‘What’s so bad?’ he whispered into her hair. ‘What’s so bad? We’ve still got each other; we’ll always have each other.’
She shut her eyes, feeling the warm afternoon sunshine on her neck and enjoying the sensation of William’s arms wrapped tightly around her. At that moment, she realized how completely she loved him. Perhaps it was a different sort of love to the one she had read about as a teenager. This love was not breathless, thrilling, and sensual, but was protective, deep and, above all, forgiving. How could she ask for more than that?
The nurse walked over.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘Violet really needs to go inside now.’
Paula nodded sadly and she bent to kiss her daughter on the cheek. As she did so, her eyes met Violet’s, and she could have sworn they shone with happiness.
‘See you soon, darling,’ whispered Paula as she watched the nurse pushing her back into the building. William wrapped his arms around her from behind and squeezed.
‘She knows,’ he said simply.
Paula nodded sadly. ‘Let’s go home.’
CHAPTER FIFTY–THREE
David Billington was waiting for Tess when she got back to the apartment. She silently cursed when she saw him sitting in the living room. She had spent the last forty–eight hours flying from New York to Charleston to Wilmington and back to New York again. In that time she’d paid off a blackmailer, seen Paula’s long–lost daughter, and was frankly so emotionally and physically exhausted she felt quite sure she could sleep for a week, not that there was any hope of that. She gave David a bright smile, trying to hide her annoyance. After all, this was not what she had signed up to do. She was a publicist, for God’s sake! She was supposed to firefight any negative stories, massage the press, maybe set up a few interviews. Right now she felt like a cross between Henry Kissinger and Bruce Willis in Die Hard. But her irritation gave way to worry as she saw his grave expression. Besides which, he had never been to her flat before, and thus she had to assume he had good reason. She sat on the armchair and peeled off her coat.
‘Been waiting long?’ she asked. ‘Sorry, I’ve just been out of town on business.’
If only he knew where she’d been and why. Another mission impossible, covering up the tracks of the Asgill family. And what was it all for? The career of the handsome, if tired–looking man sitting opposite her. He shook his head.
‘Just twenty minutes or so. Jemma was in but she just popped out to get cigarettes.’
He was fiddling with the cuffs of his white shirt and it unnerved her. Tess had never seen David look anything less than immaculate and composed. There was a pot of coffee on the table in front of him. Tess leant over and poured herself a mug. It was thick, hot, and black and it sent an instant jolt around her body. No wonder New Yorkers loved the stuff. Tea just didn’t pep you up like this.
‘So is everything okay?’ Now she was more awake she could sense his troubled vibe.
David reached into the inside pocket of his cashmere overcoat and pulled out a magazine. ‘Ever heard of the Washington Spy?’
Tess was vaguely aware of it, although it was outside of her usual fra
me of reference. A satirical Washington magazine printed on grey recycled paper, it had a small circulation but was a popular guilty pleasure for the younger Washington movers and shakers, who loved its irreverent and scurrilous take on political events and life on Capitol Hill. She took the magazine from David and examined the cover. It was a line drawing of David Billington opening a wardrobe full of skeletons.
‘What have they got?’ she asked, flipping to the story anxiously.
‘The Olivia Martin story. I assume you know all about that saga?’
Tess nodded as she scanned the pages. It was a rehash of the Olivia Martin story, except this piece was bolder than the cuttings Tess had previously read. It stated that Howard Asgill had been having an affair with Olivia, insinuated that Howard had something to with the drama of her disappearance, and asked the question as to whether David Billington could weather the scandal if he ran for Congress next year. Tess felt her heart sink. The Washington Spy might be a small–time magazine but it still had influence, particularly where it mattered, in the corridors of power and, by extension, the news media. And while Tess had warned Meredith on several occasions that she couldn’t control tabloid gossip, she felt sure David’s mother held her personally responsible for every nasty blind story or unflattering paparazzi shot of her daughters. Well, the shit is really going to hit the fan this time, thought Tess. And this time she felt sure that the Billingtons were going to take exception to the story too.
‘This is an early subscribers’ edition, so the story won’t have broken in any of the papers yet,’ said David. ‘I don’t think my father knows about it yet, but I have my lawyer on it already seeing what we can do.’
Despite her misgivings, Tess shifted into reassurance mode.
‘This is old news, David. It’s just tittle–tattle, nothing more.’
‘Come on, Tess. We all know about this story, but this is the first time Howard Asgill’s name has been publicly linked to Olivia’s disappearance.’
Tess knew he was right. This story had always unsettled her, but when it was just a missing actress at a wedding, even a semi–famous actress who had supposedly drowned in a drugged–up stupor, Tess knew it would not have any direct impact on David’s popularity and electability.
But the Washington Spy story was exactly the kind of ‘no smoke without fire’ story that could easily smear someone’s name, and Tess knew how these things could easily run out of control.
‘It may all have happened over forty years ago, Tess,’ he added. ‘But for many people, especially for the younger politicos in Washington, this story would be a fresh scandal. And scandal is the last thing we need right now.’
‘It’s not necessary going to pan out like that,’ said Tess firmly.
‘You know, three months after I started dating Brooke, my father came to me to talk about Olivia Martin.’ said David, looking down at his hands. ‘He told me it might cause “problems”. He had an investigator snoop around the story, but it threw up nothing.’