Summer at the Star and Sixpence (8 page)

Sam met Nick in Golden Square. It had always been one of her favourite London gems, tucked away almost unnoticed behind the bustling Soho streets, like an emerald nestled
behind a flashy, attention-grabbing diamond. Nick wore a baseball cap and dark glasses to disguise himself and Sam was grateful for his thoughtfulness – the last thing she needed was a throng
of adoring
Smugglers’ Inn
fans following them on their way to the office of his PR advisor.

‘Lizzy knows the basics but I’ve left the details for you to fill in,’ Nick said as they arrived at the deserted offices. ‘Between the three of us we should be able to
manage the situation.’

Sam placed her hand on his arm. ‘Thanks, Nick. I really appreciate this.’

He took off his sunglasses and smiled at her. ‘No problem. Anything for you.’

The door buzzed and they took the lift up to the fifth-floor offices of Goldman PR. Lizzy greeted them both with warmth in spite of the fact that Sam knew she’d been pulled away from her
family to deal with this. Then again, when your client was Nick Borrowdale, you went the extra mile.

‘Tell me everything,’ Lizzy said, once they were seated in her office with a steaming pot of coffee between them. ‘I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that honesty is
the best policy here – whatever you tell me will remain strictly between us.’

It felt strange to Sam to be on the other side of the desk. She knew Lizzy by reputation and had always been impressed by the way she’d managed Nick’s public persona. Not that he
needed much handling – once his star had gone well and truly supernova he’d become a PR dream. Which made it all the more important that his role in this mess be managed the right
way.

After Sam had spilled out the whole sorry tale, Lizzy sat back, looking thoughtfully between Sam and Nick. ‘Forgive me for asking this, but what is your actual relationship? Are you seeing
each other?’

‘No,’ Nick said. ‘We spent the night together on occasion if it suited us, but not since Sam left London.’

Was it Sam’s imagination or was there a hint of regret behind his words? She shook the thought away. ‘I’m in a relationship with someone else. The thing with Will happened
before I met him but he doesn’t know about it.’ She paused. ‘Yet.’

Lizzy sighed. ‘You worked in PR for years, Sam, so you know how this is likely to go. From the sounds of things, the story is going to run. We need to think about damage limitation and how
we do that depends on who’s running the story.’

‘The journalist I spoke to was from
The Sunday Planet
,’ Nick said.

‘She means the source,’ Sam explained. ‘Not the outlet.’

Lizzy nodded. ‘If Marina Pargeter is behind the story then we could try to cloud the waters, suggest that Sam isn’t the only other woman or maybe even issue a flat-out denial. But if
it’s Will himself, then we’re in trouble.’ She paused. ‘I have to say that if Will was my client, I’d be tempted to break the story first to get his side of events
into the public consciousness.’

‘That’s what I’d do too,’ Sam said.

‘Have you had any contact with him since the start of the week?’ the other woman asked.

‘No. I’ve called in a few favours with journalists to see if any of them could find out whether any deals were being done and spoke to a few friends at Brightman and Burgess. Nobody
had anything concrete – even the ones who work closely with Myles hadn’t heard much.’ Sam shook her head. ‘I thought about arranging a meeting today and confronting him but
decided not to on the drive down.’

‘Good,’ Lizzy said as she picked up the phone. ‘Let’s go straight to the horse’s mouth. I’m going to call Myles.’

Sam fixed her gaze out of the window as the conversation wore on and tried to resist the urge to tear the phone out of Lizzy’s hand. Myles was clearly being slippery but Lizzy was a
pro.

‘My client is concerned about how the revelations will affect her relationships and reputation,’ she said, fixing her eyes on Sam. ‘And since it was your client who failed to
mention his wife and young children before spending the night with her, I don’t think there’s any doubt who is in the wrong.’

Her gaze hardened as she listened. ‘If you do that my client will sue.’

Sam’s heart sank. It was abundantly clear who the source of the story was now. He was going to hang her out to dry to save himself. She waited for Lizzy to finish the conversation before
venting her fury.

‘Those bastards! They’re putting all of this on me, aren’t they?’

Lizzy let out a humourless laugh. ‘Pretty much. Reading between the lines, Myles has set up some kind of heartfelt confessional interview between Will and
The Sunday Planet
. Myles
suggested that Marina’s post-natal depression left Will vulnerable and you made a play for him, knowing exactly who he was.’

‘Bull,’ Sam snapped. ‘Will came onto me, not the other way round. I had no idea who he was until afterwards. Myles knows that.’

‘That’s why Will’s version of events sounds so plausible,’ Lizzy said. ‘Myles is holding all the cards. So, how do you want to handle it?’

Sam passed a weary hand across her eyes. ‘I don’t think there’s any way we can suppress the story. So you’re right, we need to limit the damage. I suppose I could tell my
side of things but no one will be interested in me until I make the headlines.’

‘We could make you more interesting,’ Nick said.

‘How?’ Lizzy asked dubiously. ‘No offence, Sam. You know what we mean.’

‘What if we staged a romance between Sam and me?’ Nick said. ‘The papers already think there’s something going on. What if we build on that and get snapped out together,
very clearly in love?’

‘No,’ Sam said immediately. ‘Thanks, Nick, but I don’t think that’s going to help my relationship.’

‘But it might save your reputation, and weaken Will’s lies,’ Lizzy mused. ‘Think about it: Will is involved with politics and people naturally distrust politicians,
whereas Nick is practically a national treasure, his likeability is sky-high. Coming out as being in a committed relationship with you won’t hurt that, in fact, women will probably love him
more for standing by you at a difficult time.’

Sam pictured the look on Joss’s face when she tried to explain. ‘No,’ she repeated. ‘Thank you, Nick, I love you for offering but there must be another way.’

‘Then you could ride it out,’ Lizzy suggested. ‘Keep a dignified silence, refuse all interview requests. The trouble with that is it makes you look guilty and Will gets away
with it.’

Nick shook his head. ‘You might get dragged into the divorce, too. Marina Pargeter could name you as the other woman.’

‘That’s if they get divorced,’ Sam argued. ‘There’s more mileage in an emotional reunion and glossy magazine feature showing them as stronger than ever.’

‘You’re thinking like a PR,’ Nick said gently. ‘Marina is a woman scorned, remember? Would you take someone back after they’d cheated on you and broadcast it to the
nation, dragging your mental health through the mud in the process?’

‘No,’ Sam admitted, feeling another rush of indignant fury on Marina’s behalf. ‘I’d string him up by his balls.’

Lizzy narrowed her eyes. ‘The post-natal depression angle might backfire on Will. What he’s actually doing is subtly laying some of the blame on Marina – if she’d been
looking after him properly at home, he’d never have strayed.’

It was a good point, Sam realised. ‘Maybe we can use that. Can we prime a few friendly female journalists? Get a media-friendly health professional lined up to denounce him for blaming his
wife?’

‘I think we should target his role as advisor to Number Ten, too,’ Lizzy said. ‘How can he preach to anyone about morality when he can’t respect his wedding vows?
Let’s play up the young family angle as well – he abandoned his responsibilities there. Didn’t the government publish a report on the impact of divorce on children’s
achievement not so long ago?’

Nick looked back and forth between them, his expression half-admiring, half-amused. ‘You two are ruthless. I almost feel sorry for this guy.’

‘Will Pargeter is a class A manipulator,’ Lizzy said. ‘I have no issues with taking him down.’

Sam sat back, trying to be objective. The next few days were going to be tough. If they went with the angle she and Lizzy had just worked out, Will would win the opening round but there was
every chance Sam would win the war. And she knew only too well that today’s news was tomorrow’s tumbleweed. She’d always be known as Will Pargeter’s other woman, though, a
situation that would be made even worse if Marina cited her in any divorce petition. Sam glanced sideways at Nick. If it wasn’t for Joss, she’d have accepted his offer in a heartbeat.
Pretending to be loved up with him would be no hardship whatsoever.

‘Okay,’ she said with a decisive nod. ‘Let’s do it that way. Lizzy, you see if you can dig up a journo or two to run opinion pieces.’

She pulled her phone from her bag and began to dial.

‘Who are you calling?’ Nick asked sympathetically. ‘Joss?’

‘An old friend,’ Sam said, with a grim smile. ‘When the Archbishop of Canterbury condemns a man for cheating on his wife, people pay attention.’

Nick whistled. ‘Wow, go Sam. Will Pargeter is about to find out he messed with the wrong PR.’

The wedding meal went without a hitch. Once again, it was clear that no expense had been spared; the service was perfect and the food looked mouth-watering. Nessie didn’t
see every course but the crab and fennel tart starters smelled divine, as did the chocolate orange crème brûlée dessert. But it was the aroma of the freshly percolated coffee
that gave her the most envy and, realising she hadn’t eaten or drunk since before the wedding ceremony itself, she headed back to the pub for a break.

The rest of the villagers began to arrive at the green around six-thirty. JoJo and Jamie had issued an open invitation to join them for dancing and drinks into the night and it looked as though
Little Monkham’s residents had taken them at their word. The bar of the Star and Sixpence began to get busy and Nessie was glad they’d taken on some extra staff for the night; the free
bar was definitely whetting people’s whistles.

She hadn’t heard from Sam and it was worrying her. Of course, she knew that Sam had more important things to think about, but even so, by seven o’clock, Nessie was picturing her
sister arrested for assault, or worse. She did her best to put it out of her mind and took the opportunity of a lull in trade to wander over to the marquee to catch JoJo and Jamie’s first
dance.

The tables hadn’t been moved after the meal; most of the guests were still seated at them, although they’d moved around a lot. Nessie frowned as she wove her way between the tables
– where exactly was the first dance going to take place? Wasn’t there supposed to be a band later too? She felt a stab of anxiety even though it wasn’t part of her remit. Had
something gone wrong?

At the top table, Jed tapped the microphone and raised it to his lips. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please. Put your hands together for Mr and Mrs Brady’s first
dance!’

The curtain at the end of the marquee fell away, revealing another, black-roofed tent complete with twinkling starlight overhead and a glitter ball. A band was poised on a small stage near the
back and the sides of the tent had been opened up to allow guests to gather around the edges. With a murmur of delight, people got to their feet and made their way over to watch.

A collective
aaah
filled the air as Jamie led JoJo to the middle of the dance floor and the band began to play the opening bars of
Can’t Take My Eyes Off You
. Cameras started
to flash almost instantly. Nessie found herself standing next to Martha from the village bakery and her husband, Rob.

‘Doesn’t she look beautiful?’ Martha sniffed, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. ‘I remember her being born. Now look at her.’

Nessie smiled. Everyone she’d spoken to had a story about JoJo, a memory to share. It was one of the things that made it such a lovely wedding, a day Nessie knew she’d remember for a
long time.

Around halfway through the song, Kate and Jed joined the bride and groom on the dance floor. They beckoned the other guests to dance too. Nessie smiled as Martha dragged Rob to join in. Reminded
once more of her own wedding, Nessie turned to slip away and found Owen there.

‘They make a lovely couple, don’t they?’ he said, nodding at JoJo and Jamie, who were gazing into each other’s eyes as though they were the only two people there.

‘They do,’ Nessie agreed. ‘But doesn’t every bride and groom? They’ll never be more in love than they are at this moment.’

Owen tipped his head. ‘True.’

They watched in silence for a few seconds. Nessie was aware of Owen shifting restlessly beside her, as though he was trying to decide something. Finally, he spoke. ‘Want to
dance?’

Nessie hesitated. ‘Owen—’

‘I’m tired of always trying to work out how I should act and what I should feel,’ he said, his expression unreadable. ‘So I’m going with my gut and right here,
right now, it’s telling me to dance with you.’

She gazed at him in an agony of indecision. There was less than half the song left and they were in a crowd of people. What harm could it do to dance with him? Without another word, she took his
hand and led him onto the dance floor.

Neither spoke as they moved. One of Owen’s hands clasped hers, the other rested lightly on Nessie’s waist. It burned through the cotton of her shirt. Slowly, she slid her fingers up
his arm, feeling the curve of his muscles under the fabric of his suit. His eyes seemed darker than ever, stormy and intense as their bodies swayed. Nessie’s gaze slid down to his mouth,
reminding her of the last time she’d been this close, near enough to kiss him. Was he remembering too? Or was he thinking of Eliza and the way she’d danced at their wedding. Nessie
closed her eyes briefly, her heart aching. This had been a mistake. How could she have thought it wouldn’t affect her?

The song ended. All around them, people broke into applause. Nessie broke the hold and stepped back, forcing her mouth into an easy smile. ‘I should be getting back to the pub. Thanks for
the dance.’