The Sisters (15 page)

‘Well it’s either that or find a job.’

‘Doing what?’ As far as Beatrice could remember, Lucinda had only three A-levels and that was it.

‘Exactly,’ Lucinda said. ‘Doing what. At least you and Jess had the good sense to have a plan B. I couldn’t imagine you sitting at home doing nothing.’

‘Neither could I,’ Beatrice said as she watched the twins playing outside. ‘Neither could I.’

‘WHAT DO you mean Andrew has gone?’

‘Shhh, keep your voice down,’ Jessica said she looked past Emma’s shoulder and onto the office floor. She hadn’t intended to be having this conversation but Emma had given her little choice after Lena had called her saying she was worried about her mum.

‘So where has he gone?’ Emma asked as she sipped on her mango and passion fruit smoothie and stared wide eyed at her sister. Jessica shrugged her shoulders.

‘What do you mean?’ Emma imitated her sister shrugging her shoulders. ‘What does that mean Jess?’

‘I don’t know where he is? He just left.’

‘What, last night?’

‘No. Three weeks ago?’

‘Three weeks?’ Emma shouted.

‘Emma! Keep your voice down.’ Jessica said as a few staff members turned their heads.

‘No wonder you look like shit.’

‘What?’

‘I’m sorry but you do. You’ve lost weight and your skin looks awful.’

‘Thanks, Em. That’s exactly what I needed to hear. Why don’t you go ahead and give me another kicking whilst I’m down?’

‘So why did he go?’ Emma said, ignoring her sister’s sarcasm. ‘Is he having an affair? Are you having an affair?’

‘Me! As you always say, I don’t have to time to pull my knickers out of my arse, let alone have an affair. I don’t know why he went but he has.’

‘Are you ok?’ Emma said softly.

‘I’m doing ok. Just don’t say anything to mum or dad. They don’t need this right now.’

‘Does Beatrice know?’

Jessica shook her head. ‘No. She’s got enough on her plate and whatever you do, do not and I repeat do not tell Lucinda. The last thing I need is her gloating.’

‘Why on earth would Lou be gloating and why do you think that I’d run off and tell her?’

‘Because little sister, you have a big mouth. Just promise me that you’ll keep this to yourself until I’m ready.’

Emma walked out of her sister’s office and digested what she’d just heard. Despite the success of her parents and Beatrice’s marriage it did little to convince her that marriage was a good thing. People didn’t take it seriously. Jessica had had two marriages, and neither had made it past the seven-year mark. The clients she represented were getting married as soon as they dropped their knickers, and were filing for divorce as soon as they were back from their honeymoon. As she looked back at her sister’s office she couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. It wasn’t nice to be abandoned. Emma knew that better than anybody. She woke her computer up and started to scroll through her emails, then she felt her heart stop and her stomach begin a series of somersaults. She hadn’t heard from him for so long and now there it was. After all this time. An email from him.

‘I was thinking that maybe I should come back to work,’ Beatrice said.

‘Is this a joke?’

‘No Anoushka, this is not a joke.’

‘But you’re on maternity leave?’

‘I know that.’

‘You haven’t even done one keeping in touch day since you dropped.’

‘You said that I didn’t have to bother with that nonsense.’

‘And you expressly said Beatrice, and I quote, “I want to take the year off Anoushka. I want to spend as much time as possible with my baby.”’

‘I know that’s what I said.’

‘“I want to be a proper mum. I didn’t have enough time with the twins. I don’t want my children growing up saying that I wasn’t there.” End of quote.’

‘Thank you Anoushka.’

‘Are you sleep deprived?’ Anoushka said as she pushed her Prada sunglasses to the top of her head, revealing her own hazel, cat-like eyes, to take a look into Beatrice’s.

‘Of course I’m sleep deprived,’ Beatrice said as she stabbed at her chicken Caesar salad with her fork. ‘I’ve been sleep deprived since 2009.’

Beatrice had thought it was divine intervention when Anoushka had texted her the night before and asked her if she fancied meeting for lunch. She’d left the children with Jake, who was supposed to be working from home and had run out of the house as quickly as she could before Jake could change his mind.

‘Are you skint? Because quite frankly I thought that I gave you quite a generous maternity package. I mean, I could have been a right bitch and given you 90% of your salary for six weeks and then £136.78 per week. Talk about being punished for being a woman, £136.78 couldn’t even keep me in shoes.’

‘Or Botox, but no, I’m not skint and yes you did give me a generous maternity package. Don’t get me wrong we’re not rolling in it, but I’m not on the verge of sending the kids out to rob from the rich either.’

‘Don’t knock the Botox darling. You could do with some yourself,’ Anoushka replied as she tried to raise an eyebrow. ‘Look darling, I’m more than happy for you to come back to work but I don’t want you running off to a tribunal alleging that I forced you to come back.’

‘Oh for God’s sake. You’re so bloody dramatic.’

‘Please, I know what you new mothers are like. You act like motherhood is the hardest job in the world, but it isn’t. You try running a business as successful as mine.’

‘Anoushka, you had nannies.’

‘So, I still had to organise them.’

Beatrice had long since stopped being surprised by the words that came out of Anoushka’s mouth. They were sitting on the terrace of the fifth floor at Harvey Nichols. Anoushka had nodded acknowledgements to at least three former clients for whom she had handled multi-million pound divorces. McMillan LLP was one of the country’s leading law firms that dealt exclusively with high profile individuals and Beatrice was one of her prized assets. Beatrice’s demure demeanour was a cover for the Amazonian wonder woman who represented her clients in mediation rooms and courtrooms.

‘Every time you’ve gone off and had a baby it’s really pissed me off.’

‘You make it sound as though I’ve been breeding like rabbits.’

‘I just don’t know why women want to do everything.’

‘You did it.’

‘Well, I’m me and not everyone is as great as me. Anyway, no one else is as good as you and if you want to come back early, that’s fine with me. I got a call from Simon Wilby’s agent this morning,’ Anoushka said in a low voice. The fact that she smoked like a chimney and had developed a deep, huskiness to her voice, made that slightly impossible.

‘Simon Wilby, the footballer? I actually think that Jake would leave me for him,’ Beatrice said as she allowed the waiter to top up her champagne glass.

‘Can hardly blame him. 100 caps for England. Leading scorer for Chelsea. Fifa footballer of the year, 2009, 2010, BBC Sports Personality of the year 2012.’

‘I thought you didn’t do football.’

‘I do money, darling. And he’s modelled for Tom Ford, what’s not to love; especially when they’re instructing the firm to handle their divorce and they make a specific request for you.’

‘You’re joking? He asked for me.’

‘Why are you surprised? Look at who you represented before you disappeared into a world of pampers. Alexandra Powers, the tart from that cookery rubbish on BBC Two.’

‘Sarah Cohen,’ Beatrice added.

‘Exactly, her. George Hunter. I’m not saying that Simon Wilby had the brains to ask for you personally; this is all down to his agent. So to be honest,’ Anoushka said as she pulled out an e-cigarette from her YSL clutch bag. ‘If you hadn’t had told me that you wanted to come back, I was planning on calling you and offering you a bribe to come back early.’

‘The bribery act has been in force for a couple of years. I can’t take bribes.’

‘Oh please. Anyone can be bought. By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you, who’s representing your sister?’

‘What are you talking about? Representing my sister?’ Beatrice said as she put her champagne glass down.

‘Your sister, Jessica. In her divorce.’

‘What divorce?’

‘Don’t tell me that you didn’t know,’ Anoushka replied as she managed to dramatically raise her eyebrows.

Two hours later, Beatrice had left Anoushka outside Harvey Nichols and jumped into a black taxi. It was almost four o’clock and the taxi quickly made its way through Knightsbridge, Park Lane and towards Charlotte Street. It wasn’t the fact that Jessica was having problems at home that angered her; it was the fact that she had to find out the news from someone who wasn’t family.

‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me?’ Beatrice said as Jessica grabbed her by the arm and frogmarched her into a conference room.

‘What on earth are you talking about?’ Jessica said as she closed the door and switched the air conditioning on. The temp who was working on reception had no chance of stopping Beatrice as she burst through the main doors after she’d buzzed her in. Thankfully the office was nearly empty, as everyone seemed to be out seeing clients, or more realistically skiving, due to the weather.

‘I’m talking about you. Your husband. The divorce.’ Beatrice slumped herself down in the corner couch as the sudden rush of energy that she’d felt when she’d left Knightsbridge and jumped in a taxi suddenly escaped her. ‘Why is it so hot in here?’

‘The air con is playing up. How do you know about that?’ Jessica took out a bottle of water from the chill cabinet and handed it to her sister. ‘Have you been drinking?’

‘You’re a fine one to ask if I’ve been drinking. I had lunch with Anoushka.’

‘That explains it.’

‘Don’t change the subject, Jessica’

‘Did Emma tell you?’

‘Emma? No. Does she know? Why am I always the last to know?’

‘You’re not the last to know. So who told you?’

‘Anoushka told me. How many times have I told you? This legal world of ours is very small. Nothing stays quiet for long.’

‘I thought he might have changed his mind,’ Jessica said solemnly. ‘I thought that he would have come home by now.’

‘What the hell happened?’ Beatrice asked as she kicked off her shoes. ‘You never said that you were having problems.’

‘We’re not having problems. It’s just a thing that we’re going through.’ Beatrice stared at her sister open mouthed.

‘Jess, when I make Jake sleep in the spare room because he comes home at two in the morning steaming drunk even though he told me that he was just going to the pub for a quick pint to watch the first half, that’s a thing. When your husband instructs one of the top divorce lawyers in the country that’s not a thing.’

‘What ever happened to client confidentiality?’ Beatrice looked at her sister as though she’d turned into Hydra and grown an extra head.

‘You work in PR. You know there’s no such thing as confidentiality. You need to stop burying your head in the sand. He’s instructed Curtis Miller Solicitors. Anoushka just happened to be speaking to one of the senior partners when he let it slip that Andrew had instructed them.’

‘He’s just having a moment. He’ll be back.’

‘So he’s moved out?’

‘He packed his bags about three weeks ago.’

‘Three weeks and I’m only finding out now. Sis what’s going with you? This isn’t like you.’

Jessica leaned back on the couch and took a deep breath. She’d spent many a sleepless night pondering that same question. The arrival of her eldest sister had stirred something deep inside of her. Combined with the news of her father and Andrew’s out of the blue departure she felt as though she was in the middle of a hurricane. She thought she’d be able to throw herself into her work but they were so busy at the moment that she felt her own business was about to swallow her up.

‘Everything is such a mess, Bea. Our life was not meant to be like this.’ Beatrice suddenly felt herself sobering her up when she saw her sister’s eyes redden and fill with tears. ‘I mean there’s dad and Lucinda is back fucking swanning around…’

‘Jess stop. Come on. We can’t be…You can’t be falling apart. You don’t do that.’

‘It’s just so shit at the moment,’ Jessica sniffed as she reached over for a tissue from the box that was on the oak coffee table. ‘It’s all so fucking crap.’ At that moment, Jessica’s mobile phone began to ring. She recognised the number instantly as one of the showbiz desk from
The Daily Post
and wondered which one of her clients was about to grace the sidebar of shame.

‘Jessica LeSoeur speaking.’

‘Hi, Jess it’s Elizabeth Chandler.’

‘And what can I do for you?’ Jessica said as she slumped back in her seat. In ten years she’d never known Elizabeth, the showbiz editor, to call up just to say hello.

‘Well, I’d like a quote actually.’

‘A quote. I can’t believe that you’re actually asking for one. That’s not like you. You’re usually so apt at making them up, Liz.’

‘Very funny, Jess. We’re running a story on your impending divorce and current business problems. So I thought considering how long we’ve known each other that a quote from you would be appropriate.’

‘Liz, once again you’ve got the wrong information.’

‘Oh Jess, are we really going to play this game? We’ve known each other for far too long. We have a reliable and verified source that your husband, and this will be your second husband Andrew, is divorcing you and that there’s a dispute over the business.
“Jessica LeSoeur, ex member of 90’s girl group Euterpe in the middle of £25 million divorce battle.”
It’s a bit long for a headline but I think it’ll be effective. So, any comment?’

‘£25 MILLION
.
Is your sister really worth £25 million?’

Jake liked to pretend that he was above salacious gossip and couldn’t care less about the rich and famous but Beatrice had caught her husband on more than one occasion stealing her copy of
Allure
magazine and flicking through
Heat
magazine when they were in the supermarket.

‘If Jess is worth £25 million I wonder how much Lucinda is worth?’ he continued as Beatrice handed him a bottle of beer. It’d been hot and humid all day and Beatrice had jumped straight into the shower when she’d returned home. She felt exhausted. The combination of a champagne fuelled afternoon and the bombshell of Jessica making front-page news for the first time in nearly 20 years had been overwhelming. She’d forgotten what it was like to be caught up in the middle of a media shitstorm.