Friends & Rivals (36 page)

‘Will?'

Jester's beleaguered number two, Will Jameson, picked up instantly. ‘You've heard, then?'

‘Just now. Some idiots on Radio One, but there were no details. What do you know?'

Will Jameson sighed. ‘I've been online for the past hour. Ava's saying nothing; they're still going with the line that she's too sick to make a statement.'

‘They're using my strategy!' said Ivan furiously. ‘They don't want to risk Don Peters suing.'

‘Messenger gave a press conference, though, about fifteen minutes ago. I can play you the audio if you like?'

‘Go ahead.' Ivan put Kendall's BlackBerry on speaker and propped it up on the dashboard. Kendall wanted to open the door and run, but it was too late. Seconds later, Jack's voice filled the car.

‘I'm delighted to announce that Ava Bentley has decided to become part of the JSM family. I've followed Ava's progress with interest since she first appeared on
Talent Quest
. Ivan Charles was quite right to identify her as a major vocal talent, and I believe with the right US platform she has what it takes to become a huge global star. JSM will be able to give her that platform.'

‘
Bastard
,' hissed Ivan.

‘Like all Ava's fans, I was devastated for her when she had to pull out of the competition due to ill-health. She's still very unwell, but the doctors have assured her she should make a full recovery within the next four to six weeks. Too late for
Talent Quest
, but in this case it turns out that Britain's loss will be America's gain. I knew I would have to move quickly to secure a deal with Ava, but her father Dave and I hit it off immediately. We finalized the paperwork yesterday and my hope is that Ava will move out to Los Angeles to start recording some material after Christmas.'

In the background a reporter could be heard shouting, ‘What does Ivan Charles have to say about this? Have you spoken to him? Has Ava?'

‘Ava's too sick to speak to anybody right now. And no, Ivan and I haven't spoken, but I'm sure he'll be as delighted for Ava as the rest of her friends are. This is a unique opportunity—'

Kendall reached forward and hung up the phone.

‘What did you do that for?' said Ivan.

‘Because I can't listen to it any more. And I don't know how you can.' She opened the door and bolted into the lane. It felt strangely incongruous, standing there among the green fields and sheep and centuries-old dry-stone walls, surrounded by peace and beauty while her hopes crumbled to dust.

Jack hadn't come for her. He'd come for Ava.

He didn't want her any more.

Try as she might to stop them, tears started to flow down Kendall's cheeks. She had made her choice, she had chosen Ivan, and no one was going to come and rescue her from the consequences of that decision. The irony was that by taking Ava, Jack had driven Kendall and Ivan even more closely and irrevocably together. Professionally, Kendall was now all Ivan had left. He needed her. Only a few months ago, that was exactly what Kendall had wanted: that certainty; that security of knowing that Ivan would never leave her, either as a lover or in her career. Now, thanks to Jack, she had it. But instead of triumphant trumpets sounding, all she could hear was the clang of prison doors closing. She was trapped.

Alone inside the car, Ivan felt similar emotions, only his were tinged with rage. Jack had taken everything from him. His business, his reputation, the love and affection of his own son, and now Ava.

Of course he still had Kendall. Sexy, talented, unpredictable Kendall, the one who'd started it all. He watched her pacing in the lane, picking berries off the hedgerows and flinging them furiously into the meadows beyond. She had her back to him, but Ivan could tell from her shaking shoulders that she was crying.
She thought Jack had come back for her
, he thought sadly. He wondered if she would ever stop wanting him, stop yearning for the life she'd left behind? Then again, would he? Now that he and Kendall had been thrown back together, Catriona was farther away from him than ever. He, too, had made his choices. And there was no rescue in sight.

Getting out of the car, he walked up behind Kendall and gently put his arms around her. ‘It's OK,' he whispered. ‘He's hurt us both. I understand.'

Ivan's unexpected compassion and tenderness was more than Kendall could bear. Turning around, she threw herself into his arms, sobbing and sobbing until she hadn't an ounce of breath left. Eventually she recovered enough to ask plaintively, ‘Oh, Ivan. What are we going to do?'

‘That's easy,' said Ivan, tightening his grip around her tiny, shivering body. ‘We're going to make you the biggest female recording artist on the planet. We're going to wipe the floor with Ava Bentley, JSM and anyone else who gets in our way. And we're going to annihilate Jack fucking Messenger.'

Kendall managed a small laugh. ‘Oh we are, are we? Well, that's good to know. Anything else while we're at it? Take over the world, perhaps?'

‘As a matter of fact, there is something else,' said Ivan.

‘And what's that?'

‘We're going to get married.'

The morning after Jack Messenger told the world that he had signed Ava Bentley to JSM, Kendall Bryce and Ivan Charles announced their engagement. Just as Ivan had hoped, the news was received rapturously by the British press. Every celebrity gossip magazine from
Heat
to
Now
to
OK!
ran pictures of the happy couple on their front covers, and for weeks shots of Kendall smiling and flashing her huge four-carat diamond engagement ring were plastered all over the red-tops. Indeed, so great was the public surge of affection for the couple, particularly in the light of Ivan's recent setbacks, that Polydor brought forward the release of Kendall's new album,
Flame
, which promptly debuted at number five in the UK album charts and number two in France, as well as going gold in every other European market.

Within a week, it was as if Ava Bentley had never existed. And Kendall and Ivan were already on their way back.

Ava's defection to America and Jack Messenger wasn't the only news to get ‘buried' by Ivan and Kendall wedding fever. In the weeks preceding the wedding, Ivan was unceremoniously sacked by ITV; and Jester, the once great company to which he'd devoted his entire adult, professional life, was quietly dissolved in a South London courtroom. But no one wanted to read about these doom-and-gloom stories, especially with Christmas just around the corner. They wanted to read about Kendall's dress, who was invited to the star-studded reception, and where the newlyweds would be going on honeymoon. Everybody loved a happy ending.

Meanwhile, back in LA, Jack could do nothing but watch in frustration as Ivan skilfully rebuilt his image, telling television interviewers around the world that he'd decided his time with
Talent Quest
had reached ‘a natural end'. ‘I want to spend more time at home with my beautiful wife,' he gushed. ‘Who wouldn't? I'm so blessed to have Kendall in my life. Family's really my focus now.'

It was galling to come back from England having succeeded in annihilating Jester, only to find that Ivan Charles had already risen phoenix-like from the ashes. But then perhaps Jack should have expected it? Ivan had always been a consummate master of his own image, and a wily and determined competitor. Jack's mood wasn't helped by the fact that Lex Abrahams, and a lot of the other JSM staff, were still furious with him for taking off for a month and for saddling them with a string of unknown British acts (half of them classical, for God's sake!) without consulting a soul.

‘What is this?' Lex shouted at him the day he got back, ‘a partnership or a dictatorship?' For once, Jack was lost for a comeback. Even Catriona was upset with him for going after Ava. Apparently she considered it ‘below the belt', conveniently forgetting that her slippery, two-faced ex-husband had never exactly been big on Queensbury Rules when it came to business – or any kind of rules, for that matter.

The thought of Kendall marrying Ivan made Jack feel physically sick. There was no doubt that in PR terms it was a masterstroke. But the idea that he, Jack, might have brought the thing to pass was more than he could stomach.

So much for the return of the conquering hero.

Two days before the wedding, Catriona raced around the drawing room in Burford, manically plumping up pillows and rearranging photographs on the various side tables.

‘Muuum.' Rosie walked in and rolled her eyes. ‘For heaven's sake, stop it. Anyone would think the pope was coming over. It's only Dad.'

In black, skintight jeans and the extortionate Balmain leather jacket that Ivan had bought her for her birthday last year, Rosie looked tall and skinny and gorgeous. Gone was the gawky teen of the last few years, replaced almost overnight it seemed by this clear-skinned, willowy, confident young woman with magenta-painted toes and an artfully arranged selection of bangles jangling at her wrists like Christmas bells.

‘You look lovely,' Catriona told her, smiling. ‘No one'll be looking at the bride when they see you in that bridesmaid's dress.'

This remark earned a second eye-roll, but it was followed by a hug and an offer of a cup of tea. There could be no mistaking her daughter's happiness as she skipped into the kitchen to put the kettle on, and Catriona didn't begrudge her a second of it. For Rosie the wedding was exciting. She'd been over the moon when Ivan had asked her if she'd consider being bridesmaid. After all the poor girl had been through in the difficult early days of their divorce, the pain of seeing her parents at war, finding herself the undeserving target of her brother's anger for the ‘crime' of maintaining a relationship with her dad, Rosie deserved a little joy. Catriona and Ivan were ‘friends' now, and even Hector had calmed down on the Ivan bashing. Although he drew the line at attending the wedding, he hadn't given Rosie any stick for her decision. Perhaps Rosie felt that an official union between her father and Kendall would draw a line under all the heartache and enable all of them to finally move on?

Perhaps she was right. Catriona herself had mixed feelings about the wedding. It had certainly come as a shock. She'd had no idea Ivan was even thinking of taking such a big step, and had heard the news on television like everybody else. In fairness, Ivan had tried to call her, as she later discovered when she charged her phone and checked the messages. But it was still a bolt from the blue. There was a time when news like this would have been inordinately painful. Now the negative feelings she had fell more into the wistful, regretful, nostalgic category. This was soft-focus pain, of the sort that called for anxious cushion-plumping rather than a bottle and a half of Gordon's. Not drinking definitely helped.

Ivan arrived before Rosie's promised tea. Through the drawing-room window, Catriona saw him park his blue Bentley on the High Street and climb out, brushing lint off his corduroy trousers and smoothing down his hair as he walked round the side of the house.
He's nervous too
, she thought, not without affection. How strange this all was! Catriona hadn't actually seen Ivan in person in well over a month, not since before Stella came to stay. So much had happened in his life in that time, and so little in her own. But she was happy pottering around Burford, tending her garden and taking her photographs. She wondered if he was happy, living his life at warp speed, having his every up and down splashed all over the tabloids for public consumption.
I suppose he must be. He wouldn't do it otherwise.
Perhaps Kendall was the wife he needed after all.

‘Dad!' Rosie flung open the kitchen door, spilling tea all over the flagstone floor.

‘Hello, Rose.' Ivan hugged his daughter tightly. Like Catriona he was astonished by how quickly she seemed to be growing up. ‘You look gorgeous as ever. Are you packed?'

‘Nearly,' said Rosie, who hadn't even unearthed a suitcase yet. ‘I'll just go upstairs and, er, finish off.'

Catriona walked in just as Rosie was leaving.
Bloody hell
, thought Ivan,
she looks good too.
Ever since she got back from California, Cat had been on some health kick, no doubt inspired by St Jack of Brentwood. But, as irritated as he was by Jack's influence, Ivan had to admit that Catriona looked ten years younger as a result. Her skin was clear, her pale-blue eyes bright and shining and her wild blonde hair as thick and lustrous as he remembered it in her twenties. But the biggest change was in her figure. She must have lost two stone at least, none of it from her tits, which seemed fuller and more glorious than ever beneath her tight coral T-shirt. Her legs looked terrific in a pair of slim-fitting cords and sexy riding boots, and Ivan searched in vain for the comforting roll of fat that used to be wrapped around her hips and belly.

‘Hello, Ivan.' She kissed him on both cheeks. Ivan noticed that she smelled of violets. ‘How are you?'

‘Fine,' said Ivan. ‘You know. Busy. You?'

‘Less busy.' Catriona laughed. Now that he was actually here, she felt her tension easing. ‘Nothing much changes around here, you know that. Can I get you some tea?'

They sat in the parlour at the back of the house, overlooking the garden. It was only half past three, but midwinter dusk was already beginning to settle over the frosty ground, giving everything an eerie, silvery feel. Catriona lit a fire and poured piping hot Lapsang into mismatched china cups. ‘Shortbread?' She offered a plate to Ivan. ‘It's home-made.'

Ivan looked at it longingly. ‘I can barely get into my morning suit as it is.'

‘Nonsense,' said Catriona. ‘You're skinny as a bean. You always were. Go on.'

Ivan gave into temptation. ‘What about you?' he mumbled through a mouth full of delicious, buttery biscuit crumbs. ‘You look like you haven't had a biscuit in a year.'