Paradise (23 page)

Ethan’s caresses grew more insistent. Angel melted.

‘Oh, all right then, I’ll race you inside,’ she murmured.

‘I love sex in the afternoon!’ Ethan declared some time later. He was lying back in bed with his hands behind his head. He turned to look at Angel. ‘I love sex any time with you.’

Angel smiled and rested her head on his broad chest. She felt sleepy now and Honey wasn’t due back from nursery for at least another hour, but she was jolted out of her doze by Ethan’s next comment. ‘I’d really like to have a baby with you. I mean, I know we were kidding around with Benny, but as we were saying it, I suddenly thought how I would love it to be real.’

Angel lifted her head and gazed into his blue eyes. ‘You really mean that?’

Ethan nodded. ‘Since Megan I’ve felt it, but I don’t want to put any pressure on you. I know it’s early days and there’s no rush, but wouldn’t it be great to have a baby? I’d kinda feel it sealed our life together.’

Angel knew that she did want another baby, had known it for a while, but she couldn’t help feeling wary,
considering the crippling post-natal depression she’d suffered after the birth of Honey. But if she had another baby, at least she and Ethan would know the warning signs. He was smiling at her and she thought about how much she loved him.

‘Okay, maybe we needn’t be so careful. Let’s just see what happens.’

And as she said it, she felt a rush of excitement at the thought of having a baby with him. That would surely free her from her past; she would have a new family.

Ethan wrapped his arms around her. ‘That would make me
so
happy.’

‘And what do we do about Benny?’ she asked.

‘We wait and see what he does. Knowing Benny, he went straight home and started working out a strategy for who to leak the news to first.’

‘Maybe he won’t leak it at all,’ Angel replied, feeling all mellow and loved up. She felt as if she was in a golden glow and didn’t want to let the bad thoughts in.

‘Maybe he won’t,’ Ethan replied, but didn’t sound convinced.

But there were no news stories in the week that followed, almost lulling the pair of them into a false sense of security. They were in their own bubble of happiness. Other brides-to-be might have been stressing out about the dress and the catering, but Angel was genuinely chilled. Gemma had recommended a new designer who might be able to design Angel’s dress, but Angel didn’t really mind what she wore. She’d had the big white dress once already, she wanted something different this time. Or at least she thought she did. And as for the catering – she wasn’t going to get hung up on hors d’oeuvres and seating plans. Instead they were going to have a BBQ buffet and people could sit wherever the hell they liked.

‘What do you mean, you don’t mind what you wear?’ Gemma sounded outraged on the phone during one of their chats when Angel admitted that she hadn’t given her wedding dress much thought. ‘You can’t just wear any old thing!’

‘Gem, I know you can’t imagine this, but I really don’t care – it’s about me and Ethan, not about some expensive dress that I’ll never wear again.’

Angel could just imagine Gemma rolling her eyes on the other end of the phone. ‘How about I fly over and help you? I’ve got some holiday and Tony can’t take time off at the moment.’

‘I’d love it if you came over, but I don’t want us to spend all our time looking at clothes – one day only and the rest chilling. Deal?’

‘Deal.’

But it was a deal that Gemma had clearly no intention of keeping as she arrived a week later with a suitcase full of magazines and ideas for Angel’s dress, which she insisted on getting out the very night of her arrival. Ethan took one look at the table laden down with magazines and headed for his games room.

‘But you should be involved in this,’ Gemma called after him, ‘You need to co-ordinate with Angel.’

Angel had a sudden flash back to Gemma’s own wedding and how she had agonised over every single detail, right down to the colour of Tony’s socks. Fortunately Tony was head over heels in love with her and had submitted to her every demand.

‘I’m going to wear a black tux for the wedding and then I’ll probably change into a tee-shirt and jeans for the reception. Angel can wear what the hell she wants, she’ll look gorgeous whatever.’

Gemma wrinkled her nose. ‘A black tux is so predictable – what about a cream suit? Or maybe white . . .
say with a blue shirt? And have you thought about shoes?’

‘See you later, girls,’ Ethan replied, and practically jogged out of the room so as not to receive any more of Gemma’s pearls of fashion wisdom.

Angel laughed at her friend’s appalled expression. ‘I told you, Gem, we’re just not bothered.’

‘But you could have anything you want! Any designer . . . any style.’

‘I want simple,’ Angel insisted.

‘What are you? Bloody Amish all of a sudden? A wedding needs sparkle and bling!’

Gemma flicked through the magazines, every now and then holding up a picture of a stunning dress, none of which fitted into the simple category, unless ten-foot lace trains and whopping great tiaras counted as simple. Angel alternated watching Honey draw – or rather scribble with her crayons – with shaking her head at every page Gemma showed her. Finally, just as Gemma was about to admit defeat, she held up a picture of a beautiful white dress, a strapless creation with a fitted bodice and a full white skirt made up of layers and layers of tulle, studded with crystals. Suddenly Angel felt her resolve to keep it simple waver.

‘Wow, that is gorgeous!’

Gemma’s eyes lit up. ‘It is! And it would be so
you
.’ She studied the caption. ‘Even better, it’s by an up-and-coming Japanese designer and it looks like he’s based here. I’m going to call him.’

And with that she reached for her phone, found his number, called him up and arranged for Angel to go to his workshop the following day.

Angel looked at her friend in awe. Gemma was like a tornado when she wanted her way: nothing could stop her.

Gemma looked as if she might explode with happiness the following day when they went to the airy open-plan workshop. There was rail upon rail of beautiful clothes: sumptuous rich purples, delicate pinks and creams and whites, fabrics of slippery silk, pearly satin, all studded with crystals and pearls.

Kaz, the twenty-something Japanese designer, pulled out dress after dress for Angel to look at, but she had her heart set on the ballerina-style dress. Finally he held it up.

Gemma gave it the critical once over and conceded, ‘Yes, it’s definitely you.’

‘Try it on,’ Kaz told her, pointing out a screen in the corner. Angel slipped off her denim mini skirt and vest and slid into the dress. It was slightly too big, but as soon as she looked in the mirror she knew it was the one. It accentuated her curves, her beautiful neck and slim shoulders, and she loved the way the full skirt made her feel like a princess.

But as she looked at her own reflection she couldn’t help thinking back to her wedding day with Cal, remembering the look on his face when he saw her in her stunning white dress for the first time. The memory bought unexpected tears to her eyes, which she hastily brushed away as Gemma called out, ‘Let’s have a look.’ She was just upset because anyone would be, thinking of a failed marriage. It didn’t mean anything more than that. Angel emerged from behind the screen, standing before Gemma.

‘Well, what do you think?’

Her friend smiled with approval and said, ‘It’s beautiful. You should wear it with your hair up, and maybe a simple necklace. Nothing else. Too many accessories would ruin it. And I would say wear it with ballet pumps rather than heels. Or maybe start with heels for the ceremony and slip into pumps later.’
Gemma had definitely missed out on her calling to be a stylist.

Angel twirled round in front of the mirror, watching the full skirt flare out. The dress was beautiful, but suddenly she didn’t feel any sense of excitement or anticipation about the wedding.

‘Ethan is going to be blown away when he sees you in that,’ Gemma told her.

‘It is perfect,’ Kaz backed her up, ‘I just need to take it in here.’ He pulled in the fabric round Angel’s waist.

‘The dress is perfect but maybe I shouldn’t be going for something as grand as this.’ She turned to Kaz to explain, ‘This will be my second marriage.’

‘Is that any less of a reason to celebrate?’ he replied.

‘Kaz is right,’ Gemma agreed. ‘Your marriage to Ethan deserves a dress like this. You’ve got nothing to feel guilty about.’

‘You mean that?’ Angel asked. It was the most positive thing Gemma had ever said about her relationship with Ethan.

‘I do. I can see how much he loves you, and you seem really happy together. I didn’t get that before, but I do now.’ Gemma never said anything unless she really meant it.

Angel was hugely relieved to know her friend was finally on her side. She had missed the closeness she’d had with Gemma. But her next comment floored Angel. ‘Cal’s seeing someone else now. That French model – Madeleine Fournier. He seems happy too. So everything seems to have worked out for both of you.’

Why then did Angel suddenly feel as if she had lost something? I am happy to be marrying Ethan, she told herself, as if it was a mantra. It doesn’t matter if Cal is seeing someone else. He’s free to do exactly what he wants. But later that night, when Gemma was in bed and Ethan was out seeing some friends, Angel found
herself irresistibly drawn to her laptop to Google Cal and Madeleine – and there they were on several of the tabloid websites, photographed leaving Scott’s restaurant in Mayfair together, holding hands. They made the most stunning couple. It shouldn’t have affected her but it did, even more so when she read the accompanying article about how ‘smitten’ Cal was said to be with the French beauty. How theirs was a relationship which had built up over the last few months and was now serious, and how they were supposed to have been seen house hunting in Chelsea. Angel felt sick with jealousy.

HOWEVER, SHE BARELY
had time to obsess over Cal as the following day news of Angel’s ‘pregnancy’ appeared in the press. Benny had excelled himself. The story was splashed across several publications but it wasn’t a straightforward leak: he had put a vicious spin on it. ‘
Ethan’s
Angel
is
pregnant
,
but
is
he
the
father?
’ screamed the headlines, and the articles went on to talk about rumours that Angel didn’t know who the father of her baby was; that she had confided to ‘a friend’ that it might be Daryl Webster, the singer.

‘Son of a bitch!’ Ethan shouted when he read the story. He was genuinely rattled. Outside the house the paps were already camped out in force, itching to get their picture. Angel got the familiar feeling of claustrophobia their presence aroused in her. She hated knowing that they were just over the fence and that she and Ethan would be pursued wherever they went, considered fair game for photographers who didn’t give a shit about people’s feelings. Indeed, Angel often wondered if the paps even saw them as people at all. To them she and Ethan were just commodities, whose image could be sold to the highest bidder.

Giving Benny the false story had seemed like a bit of a joke to Ethan and Angel and they had enjoyed the
power over him, but, boy, had he turned the tables. To Angel it seemed that Benny had used the story as a way of getting back at her for the grovelling apologies he’d been forced to make. It showed the full depth of his hatred for her. The man was poison.

‘That’s it!’ Ethan declared. ‘That motherfucker is out of my life once and for all.’

‘You’re sure?’ Angel asked. They were sitting by the pool with breakfast laid out, but neither of them felt like eating. Gemma had left for the airport several hours earlier, which was a pity as Angel could have done with her friend’s company right now.

‘Never been more certain,’ Ethan said grimly. ‘I’ve given him enough second chances. Benny was out to get you from the start . . . I should have seen it. He’s a jealous, twisted little guy. I suppose I didn’t want to think badly of someone who’s been such a major part of my life for the last ten years. But that’s it, the end of an era. I’m going to phone Abe right now and get him to courier Benny the letter terminating his contract.’ He reached for his phone, all set to call his lawyer.

‘Don’t you want to speak to Benny first? Give him the chance to explain himself?’

‘Give him the chance to try and wriggle out of it? No, I’m through with Benny Sullivan.’

It was a mad day with Ethan on the phone first to his lawyer and then meeting with Julia, the woman he had temporarily appointed to do his PR, so that they could put out a statement contradicting the news story and announcing Benny’s dismissal. Angel remembered how much Ethan had depended on Benny when she had first known him; how he’d always valued Benny’s opinion. It seemed awful that things were ending like this, but Ethan was rising to the challenge and she saw
a steely determination in him that she hadn’t seen before.

Angel had some calls of her own to make, and had to spend several hours phoning her mum and dad and friends to let them know that, contrary to the news stories, she wasn’t pregnant. She even got a cheeky text from Daryl saying he wished that he had been in the position of potentially being the father of her child. She showed it to Ethan who replied that maybe he didn’t want Daryl round to the house for dinner after all, if he was going to come out with lines like that.

Benny would have received the letter of termination by early-afternoon. Every time Ethan’s phone rang after that Angel kept expecting it to be Benny or that every time the doorbell rang he would be there, trying to talk his way out of what had happened. But there was no word from him. Instead, in the early evening, Susie turned up. She looked as if she’d been crying.

She wasted no time in getting to the point. ‘Take him back, Ethan, you’ll not get a better manager than Benny, not ever. That man would do anything for you, I swear.’ Ethan surveyed Susie coolly from where he sat back on the sofa, arms folded across his chest. He was entirely unmoved by her protestations.