The Housewife and the Film Star (12 page)

Chapter Twelve

"Mum, don't take this the wrong way, but you look like hell. Are you sure you're up to tonight?"

Sylvia rolled her eyes in-between violent sneezes that sent the room into a spin and forced her to hold onto the kitchen counter for support.

"What do you think? I'm going to have to be. There's no way I'm going to miss Timmy's big night, and I'll certainly not give Peggy the satisfaction of letting her take all the goddamn credit."

Another coughing fit stopped her mid-rant. The pain in her chest warred with the pain in her heart. She never should have opened that blasted envelope. What had she been thinking? And what did it matter anyway? They weren't love's young dream. He'd never promised her anything beyond showing her a good time in bed, and he'd certainly done that.

"Mum?" Alicia looked at her, concern in her eyes.

Sylvia's misery made her reply much shorter than it would normally have been. "Quit fussing. I'll be fine. Go make sure Ruby is ready, and I'll be right there, damn it."

Sylvia regretted the harsh words the minute they left her mouth. Before she could make amends, however, Alicia was gone. The tight set of her shoulders left a sour taste in her mother's mouth. Sylvia's hands went to the kitchen drawer of their own accord to pull out the crumpled note in Kathy's hand writing.

I'm sorry, Sylv, but you had to see these. They put a gag order on these so that the press couldn't use them. Does this look as though he didn't do what the girl accused him of in the papers? Is it a coincidence she was paid a huge amount of cash to shut up and leave town? Think about it, Sylv. And the others were taken yesterday in Sweden. No idea who she is. But they sure look cozy. Wake up, he is using you, and when you're ready to talk you know where I am!

Swallowing the bile rising in her throat, she screwed the damning piece of paper up and threw it in the bin. That's what she should have done in the first place. Instead she'd phoned Vera and smiled sweetly at Timmy and Ali, when they got home as though nothing was amiss.

With her fingers clutched around that blasted envelope as though her life depended on it, she'd entered the hallowed halls of Vera's prestigious PR firm yesterday.  She'd felt woefully inadequate in her jeans and simple top, facing the elderly woman in her no-nonsense business suit. Shivering from head to toe in the air conditioned office after she'd been caught in an unexpected downpour, she'd been all too aware of the stares and whispers as she'd made her way along the open plan office.

Vera's hand shake had been firm, her smile kind, and she'd sent her assistant off to fetch some warm towels and a hot chocolate to help Sylvia warm up.

"It's lovely to meet you at last. I've heard so much about you."

Heat had crept into Sylvia's cheeks together with righteous indignation, and her silly heart had clenched painfully at her next words. "I can see why Sven likes you. You're very different and just what's needed to help him improve his image."

"What's that supposed to mean exactly?"

"Oh, I mean it as compliment. One reason the papers have gone so crazy about all this. Young widow swept off her feet by notorious playboy. You couldn't make it up. Of course it would help if you weren't seen punching reporters, but no worries. I can smooth that over. How is your hand by the way? It looks sore. I told Sven right from the start it's all about damage limitation
, and so far so good, it's working well."

"What? It's fine, what do you mean damage limitation?"

Vera hadn't answered that whispered question, however. Instead she'd carried on chattering in a far too animated voice, looking extremely pleased with herself.

"Yes, as far as arrangements go, this is working beautifully. The fans love the fact that you're not a celebrity. It makes him look human and approachable. It's just what I've been trying to achieve for the last six months. Now if only I could get him to agree to a few staged photo ops, but he's so blooming stubborn about things like this. But never mind, you're here now, and you look a level headed young lady, so perhaps we can convince him together, what do you think? You'll be reimbursed for your troubles of course. Sven is a generous man. I've already set up an expense account for you and—"

Sylvia had held up her hand to stop the woman's chatter.

"Stop, just stop already. What arrangement are you referring to? I'm not here for any money. I came because Sven asked me to see you if the press got too much, that's all, and I thought you should see these."

She'd had to force herself to not throw the envelope at Vera. Instead she'd put it down on her massive desk very carefully, and then walked up to the wall made of glass. She hadn't really seen the fantastic views over London's docklands. Instead she'd willed her heart to slow down and her hands to stop shaking. Had this whole thing been a lie? Had it just been a carefully orchestrated plot by the two of them to make Sven look good in the papers?

Vera's sharp intake of breath as she'd opened the envelope had not been reassuring in the slightest.

"Where did you get these from, and has anyone else seen them?"

"I haven't shown them to anyone, but I'm sure Kathy must have copies somewhere. Kathy Simpson, works with Evelyn Jones at
Whisper
?"

"Yes I'm familiar with … well I shan't call them reporters, that's for sure. Not entirely sure whether they're even human. This Kathy is a friend of yours, I seem to recall?"

"Not anymore she isn't, but that's not really the issue here, is it? I've no idea what arrangement you're referring to. Sven never mentioned any arrangement."

"Ah, me and my big mouth. I just assumed
. Well, that changes things."

Vera had cocked her head to one side, a small smile on her face. She'd studied her as though she was some interesting species of insect under a microscope, and Sylvia's hackles had risen.

"What the hell do you mean interesting?"

"Tell me, Sylvia, what do you know about his return to Sweden?"

"I fail to see what that has to do with anything."

"Humor me, please."

"I've no intention of sharing his reasons for going back with anyone. They're personal."

Vera's answering low whistle had been accompanied by a thoughtful smile.

"Interesting. Well, I never. Who'd have thought it?" Shaking her head to herself, she'd put one hand on Sylvia's arm. "You do know these pictures are not what they seem."

"You would say that. It's your job to cover for the man."

Sylvia hadn't been able to help the slight wobble in her voice. Damn it all, she was not going to cry over this; she just wasn't.

"This is true, but there really isn't anything to cover here. I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions over your reasons for being here. Sven will hit the roof when he finds out what I've said. Please forget it, and don't hold it against him. The fault was all mine. You did the right thing by bringing these photos to my attention. I'll deal with any fallout. Now let me arrange transport home for you. It's still raining out there. Any more problems with the press, ring me, and I'll sort it."

Sylvia had been grateful for the chauffeured ride home, but she'd been sneezing violently by the time she'd arrived back at her house. The long soak in the bath had not been enough to stop her coming down with a heavy summer cold.

"Mum, we're ready."

She took a deep breath or at least as deep as her bruised lungs would let her and made herself walk to the front door. This was Timmy's time, and she'd smile and get through it. Maybe seeing Timmy in action would help her to finally burn the image of Sven kissing another woman out of her mind's eye. So much for grieving in Sweden. It hadn't taken five minutes for him to find another distraction. Damn the man to hell and back.

****

Sven looked at his watch for the umpteenth time since stepping off the plane. He was going to fucking miss it at this rate.

"Step on it, George. What's taking so goddamned long?"

His driver's smiling brown eyes connected with his in the rear view mirror.

"What do you think I'm doing
, Sven? Don't go all masterly on me. We won't be getting to your girl at all if we get stopped for speeding or end up in a ditch."

"Mind your fucking place, George, and she's not my girl." But fuck, if that didn't sound good.

"If you say so, Sven, but I can't remember the last time I've seen you in such a state about a bit of sweet pussy."

Sven's warning snarl in response elicited a rumble of laughter from his old friend.

"Just saying, good to see, now hold on. I know a short cut from here. It's going to get bumpy."

Half an hour later they screeched to a halt in front of the old building that housed Norton Prep School. The place reeked of old money
, and Sven had a hard time picturing his little Hard Head in these surroundings, even if it was in the more informal nursery setting. There he went again. Timmy was no more his than Sylvia was, but he seemed to have developed a possessive streak a mile long where that lady was concerned. Pushing those disturbing thoughts firmly to one side, he concentrated on his surroundings instead. Norton Prep had an excellent reputation for fostering each individual child's artistic talent, as well as sitting at the top of the league tables, but it wasn't cheap. Sylvia had to be struggling with the fees, even if Timmy had managed to collar one of the sought-after scholarships.

"Welcome to Norton Prep."

The sing song welcome of the two senior girls shook him out of his musings. Giggling like only two schoolgirls can, they watched him through wide eyes, blushing profusely.

"Girls, pull yourselves together." The cool female voice brought about an instant change in the girls
’ demeanor. "You will make our guest here think the school has no standards. How can I help you, Mr.—?"

"Larsson
." Sven extended his own hand. He smiled at the sharp intake of breath from the petite, immaculately dressed woman in front of him. She pulled herself together, however, the professional smile back in place, in record time.

"Of course you are. What can we do for you? Ms. Pierson here, I'm the deputy head."

Okay then, time to pull out all the stops. Giving her his most dazzling smile, he let his hand linger a minute too long.

"I'm aware I'm not invited, but a friend's son is performing in the concert, and it would mean a lot to both of them if I could surprise them. I'm hoping I haven't missed it. He's in the nursery performance."

"I see. Well, there will not be any seats because we're booked out and—"

"Absolutely no problem at all. I'll slip in the back, and I don't mind standing. I've heard such good things about your school, I had to come and see for myself."

Another scrutinizing look of green eyes later, he followed the clip clop of the woman's heels down the corridor and toward the sound of music.

"The nursery performance is next. We always save it to the end, because the little ones are just so adorable."

With another smile toward the deputy, which left the elderly woman a bit rosy faced, he slipped into the back of the packed auditorium with a sigh of relief. He scanned the many seats, and finally found her two rows back from the front. Sven's eyes narrowed and his fists clenched at the way she held herself away from none other than that weasel Harry. What the fuck was he doing here? Clearly the man could not take no for an answer. His gut clenched at the way Harry casually put one arm behind her along the seat, his fingers reaching her shoulders. Sylvia visibly started and shook the hand off. She said something to him that made the man flush and withdraw his hand.

Good going,
min sköna
, you show him.

The action had lifted her face into the spotlight, which illuminated how pale she looked under her makeup. Her nose was red, and her eyes had that glazed feverish look. Vera had said she'd arrived like a drowned rat. Protectiveness welled up inside him at the way her slight shoulders shook in a coughing fit. Alicia's worried glance toward her only increased his growing anxiety. His little firecracker wasn't well. Good thing he was here to take care of her. Willing his body to behave, he tore his eyes away from her, just as Timmy's crystal clear voice rose in his solo.

Damn, that boy could sing. Timmy searched the crowd, and, when he spotted Sven, the little fellow's face lit up. A warm, fuzzy feeling spread through Sven's chest. Seemed Hard Head there was getting under his skin even faster than his mother had done, and damn him if he didn't like that feeling.

****

Sylvia splashed some water on her face. God, she felt awful. Fortunately, she'd managed to keep it together until Timmy's solo. She wouldn't have wanted to miss it for the world. She'd sought refuge in the ladies’ room, when the thundering applause after Timmy’s performance hit. The room started to spin, and she held onto the basin for dear life. She just had to get through the refreshments, and then they could leave. And, somehow, she had to stop herself from hitting Harry or Peggy or both of them
. Gah, what is wrong with me?
She abhorred violence, yet over the last few days she'd punched Kathy and bitten everyone else's head off. Her hands itched now to wipe that smug smile of her sister-in–law's face once and for all, and as for Harry, if he tried to touch her one more time under the pretext of concern for her, she'd surely scream. She took a deep breath, which only resulted in another coughing fit, and she forced herself to leave the safety of the ladies’ and re-enter the hall.