Friends & Rivals (46 page)

Ten minutes later, alone in her own bed but twitchingly aware of Ivan's presence down the hall, Catriona tried to untangle her raging emotions. There were so many. Nostalgia. Anxiety. Fear. Anger. Although it shamed her to admit it, there was part of her that felt flattered by Ivan's overtures. Another, more worrying part, did wonder what it might be like to be part of a family again, living at The Rookery, reconnecting with all their old friends as a couple, as if the past few dreadful years had been nothing more than a bad dream. Was she pleased that he and Kendall had broken up? There was a time when she would have been. Now she felt little more than a weary numbness. And something else: pity. Perhaps compassion might be a kinder word. She cared about Ivan, about his feelings, despite it all. If tonight's awkward encounter turned out to be the first step in a more genuine and long-lasting friendship between them, surely that must be a good thing?

Down the hall, Ivan was having thoughts of a more practical nature.

He wouldn't announce his and Kendall's separation publicly till after Christmas. She – they – needed that number one if she was going to sign the fat new deal that would set his finances back in order, and enable him to buy back The Rookery. Cat couldn't see it now, because it felt like a pipe dream. But once he took her hand and led her back into that beautiful house, the once happy home that they had built together; and once he showed her how happy he was going to make her again, he felt sure Catriona would want a reconciliation as much as he did.

We were meant to be together
, he thought happily, drifting off beneath Cat's freshly laundered, lavender-scented sheets. He was home again at last.

Jack Messenger wandered through the second floor at Fortnum & Mason's, admiring the decorations. This year his favourite London department store had gone for a ‘Victorian Christmas' theme, complete with miniature trees in the windows hung with clove-stuck oranges and a wonderfully intricate hand-painted mural of skaters on the frozen Thames. When Sonya was alive she used to love coming to London or New York for pre-Christmas shopping. LA was beautiful, but there was something about palm trees and sunshine that never felt quite right during the holidays, however brightly dressed and be-ribboned they may be. Walking among the papier-mâché robins, complete with real feathers, and the delicately carved and painted wooden reindeer, Jack missed her. He always missed her, although it was no longer with the furious, raging pain of his early years as a widower. It was more of a dull ache, a flicker of sadness, like a passing storm cloud, but tinged lately with the silver lining of nostalgia. Fortnum's held many happy memories.

Idly he picked up one of the robins and a stack of pretty Medici cards. It was rare for him to have an afternoon off, and he intended to make the most of it, stocking up on British goodies to take back with him to LA. Lisa Marie had gone back last night. She'd told him before the London trip, in the kindest possible way, that she'd started seeing somebody else, and she'd gone back home to be with him.

‘I adore you, Jack, you know that. And I really hope you still wanna work with me. But I'm thirty-eight and I want to have kids. We always knew it couldn't last for ever.'

If only more women were like Lisa Marie. So straightforward and uncomplicated and civilized. He assured her that her job at JSM would be there for as long as she wanted it, as would his friendship. Slightly to his surprise, they'd spent a couple of nights together since they got to London, a sort of farewell to their affair that Jack had thoroughly enjoyed. Nevertheless, he was relieved when she flew back to join her new beau for the holidays, and felt a renewed sense of freedom this afternoon as he strolled the brightly lit streets alone.

‘Jack.'

He spun around. Looking tinier than usual in a pair of tight black corduroy pants and a jade-green polo-neck sweater that clung to her matchstick-like arms, Kendall Bryce smiled up at him. It was the smile, more than the coincidence of running into her, that threw him. He found himself blushing and stammering like a schoolboy.

‘K … Kendall. Wow. This is a surprise. Small world.'

‘Actually the world's pretty big. If you'd stuck to your side of it I doubt we'd have run into each other. But … here we are.' Her smile broke into a grin. He was relieved to see she was joking.
I guess she can afford to be magnanimous, now that Ava's crashing and burning in the press here and she's a shoo-in for number one.
‘How are you?'

Jack shrugged. ‘I'm OK, I guess.' He contemplated making a snide remark about the way she and Ivan had bad-mouthed Ava, but nobody liked a sore loser. If Kendall was prepared to bury the hatchet, with Ava's competing single being officially released tomorrow, the least he could do was return the favour. ‘I'm surprised you aren't out on the PR treadmill, this close to the big day.'

‘You too,' said Kendall. ‘I heard Ava on Capital Radio in the cab on my way over here. Didn't she want her hand held?'

‘Lex is with her,' said Jack. Was it his imagination, or did Kendall's face just fall? ‘Look, if you're really not busy, d'you want to go and grab a coffee?'

Kendall cocked her head to one side suspiciously. Last time she'd seen Jack he hadn't exactly been in a coffee-buying mood. At least not towards her. ‘Really?'

‘Only if you want to.'

‘I'd love to,' she said quickly. ‘We'd better go somewhere private, though. If anyone got a picture of the two of us talking, it'd seriously set the cat amongst the pigeons.'

‘You're the Londoner,' said Jack, putting back the Christmas cards. ‘Any suggestions?'

Ten minutes later, they were sitting at the back of a nondescript Italian café a stone's throw from The Berkeley.

‘They do an amazing coffee cake here,' said Kendall, sitting down at a table in the back facing away from other cust-omers. ‘And mince pies, but with Amaretto butter instead of brandy.'

‘You like those things?' Jack made a face as if she'd just suggested he order a dog-shit sandwich.

Kendall laughed. ‘I do actually. They're an acquired taste.'

She ordered one, along with a pot of delicious freshly ground Italian coffee for two. Watching her bite into the warm pastry, Jack said, ‘From the look of you that's more calories than you've eaten in the last month. You're skin and bone.'

It was the sort of thing he used to say to her in the old days, like a nagging father always worrying about her health. Back then it used to bug her, being treated like a child. Now it felt nice, having someone care enough to notice.

‘I eat,' she assured him through a mouthful of crumbs. As if to prove a point, she scooped up a spoonful of Amaretto butter from the whipped heap on the side of the plate and devoured it greedily. ‘This is not starvation. It's stress.'

It was a surprisingly honest comment, under the circumstances. Jack responded in kind.

‘I don't think you have too much to worry about. You're number one right now. Great song, by the way.'

‘Thank you,' said Kendall. ‘Sweet Dreamer', her Christmas offering, was a soulful, nostalgic melody with lyrics about separated lovers who rediscover each other at Christmas. It wasn't exactly risky, but it was a strong commercial track with just the right degree of festive schmaltz to hook those elusive seasonal record buyers.

‘All you have to do is hang in there for another week,' said Jack. ‘If the bookies know what they're talking about, you have this thing in the bag.'

‘A week's a long time in pop,' said Kendall philosophically. ‘And they haven't heard Ava's single yet. Plus, this is Britain. They love an underdog here. Right now Ava's the underdog.'

‘Thanks to your husband,' said Jack. He hadn't intended to say it. The words just slipped out. But to his surprise, Kendall didn't seem angry at the mention of Ivan, just sad. She pushed away the last bite of her mince pie and stared down at the table, fighting back tears.

‘Is everything OK?' asked Jack.

She looked up at him and shook her head. Without thinking, Jack reached across the table and took her hand. ‘Kendall?'

It was the hand-squeeze that did it. Out of nowhere, the floodgates opened, and Kendall found herself pouring her heart out to Jack. She told him everything. How things had started to go wrong with Ivan very quickly after they married. How he'd started to drink, and only stopped after that awful night at The 100 Club when she'd fallen and badly cut her face. How since then they'd tried to go on, but after last week's awards ceremony they'd both realized that whatever love there might once have been between them had gone.

‘There's no bitterness. No anger.' She dabbed at her eyes with a butter-smeared paper napkin. ‘In fact, weirdly, since we decided to split, things have been better than ever between us. I thought it might be difficult, putting on a front until after Christmas. But you wouldn't believe how thoughtful and considerate he's being.'

‘After physically assaulting you?' seethed Jack. ‘Sure I would. He's probably terrified you'll report him to the police. Or, worse from his point of view, the tabloids. Why the hell didn't you?'

Kendall looked him straight in the eye. ‘Same reason we aren't divorcing tomorrow. Because we needed a united front to see off the threat from Ava.'

‘Oh,' said Jack awkwardly.

‘Also, it was an accident. He didn't actually mean for me to fall. You must promise you won't say anything. Not about that, or us splitting up, or any of it. I told you as a friend.'

‘I know,' said Jack hesitantly. ‘And I appreciate it. But—'

‘No buts,' said Kendall, slightly hysterically. ‘You have to promise. It's not as if you're blameless in all this, Jack. You bringing Ava back here was what tipped Ivan over the edge with his drinking in the first place.'

Jack's eyes widened. ‘You're saying it's
my
fault the bastard hit you?'

‘No,' Kendall sighed. ‘Of course not. And he didn't hit me. He pushed me.' She was already starting to regret telling him. But it was hard not to open up to Jack, especially when he was being so kind to her again after so long. ‘You're focusing too much on one incident. The point isn't what happened at the club that night, it's that we never really loved each other in the first place.'

Now this really was an admission. In Jack's humble opinion it called for something stronger than coffee. He ordered a bottle of Sangiovese, then another. Afternoon turned into night. Coffee and cakes were replaced by
insalata mista
and
cioppino
with crusty bread and olives while Kendall talked him through the last five years as they'd looked from her perspective.

‘I was in love with you, you know,' she announced, somewhere between her third and fourth glass of red and with the warm soup and bread sitting heavy in her stomach. ‘I can tell you that now 'cause it's not true any more. But at the time I was – and I felt – rejected. You saw me as a child.'

‘You were a child,' said Jack.

Kendall shrugged. ‘Ivan didn't think so. And you know it was fun in the beginning. Flattering. He can be very charming.'

‘Don't I know it,' said Jack.

‘And you were so bloody serious all the time, not to mention pig-headed about the money.' She drained her glass and poured herself another. ‘You pushed me away.' She smiled, but she was clearly only half joking.

‘Perhaps I did,' said Jack quietly. ‘I was so angry with Ivan myself at that point, the way he was neglecting the business and messing around on Catriona.'

‘You really have a soft spot for Catriona, don't you?' said Kendall archly.

‘She's a nice woman,' said Jack. He didn't want to admit, even to himself, how much he had missed Cat in recent months. The business, Ava, and his affair with Lisa Marie had all been distractions. But mentally, Catriona was the mother-ship to which his thoughts always seemed to return. Deep down, he felt guilty about this. As if Catriona were somehow ‘pushing Sonya out'. But he hadn't untangled his own feelings yet, and certainly wasn't ready to talk about them.

‘Ivan's still in love with her, you realize.'

Kendall's words hit him like a slap in the face.

‘He told you that?'

She shook her head. ‘He doesn't have to. It's obvious. Every time he'd come back from visiting her and the kids, he'd hit the bottle. Like clockwork. I wouldn't be surprised if they got back together eventually.'

Jack shook his head, as if trying to dislodge such an unpalatable idea. ‘Christ, I hope not. That really would be the last straw.'

He's still so attractive
, thought Kendall, gazing unsteadily into his blue eyes in the candlelight. They were the only customers left in the café now, and she felt as if they were the only two people on earth. Lex shacking up with Ava had been the last straw for her. But Lex wasn't here. He was probably in bed with Ava somewhere right now, making love to her, telling her not to worry about tomorrow. And she was here, alone, with Jack.

Reaching out for what she thought was Jack's hand she ended up grabbing the salt-shaker instead. Shit. She must be drunker than she'd thought. Seconds later she felt Jack's warm, dry hands wrap themselves around hers.

‘You deserved better, you know,' he said gruffly. ‘I knew Ivan was a shit. I should have come back for you when I raided the other Jester acts. Taken you back to LA and talked some sense into you.'

‘Why didn't you?' Kendall asked him. She no longer felt bitter about it, but she'd always wondered.

‘I don't know. I should have,' said Jack. ‘Too angry I suppose. And Lex would have killed me. To lose one partner might be considered a misfortune, but to lose two starts to look like carelessness. I couldn't have gone against his wishes, not when it came to you.'