‘You have an hour now,’ said Cassandra glancing at her watch and turning towards the lift. ‘Let’s meet in the restaurant at eight.’
In her room, Cassandra stepped out of her clothes, damp and sticky from the humidity, leaving them on the floor as she walked into the shower, letting the steaming water run over her body until every nerve felt revived. She wrapped her hair in a turban, pulled on a fluffy white robe and flopped onto her four-poster bed. She was just reaching for the phone to call Max, when it started ringing.
‘Did you get everything you need?’
Alex Jalid sounded eager and concerned.
‘It was wonderful, Alex. I can’t thank you enough for arranging this.’
‘You can thank me by never repeating our conversation in Mykonos or anything that has gone before or after it.’
She gave a small smile as she replaced the receiver. She would of course keep her side of the bargain, but it was inevitable that Alex would be caught out again one day soon. He was too important, too careless, too arrogant not to be. For a second she wondered who would benefit from his indiscretions next time? A jilted lover? An opportunistic member of his court perhaps? She didn’t care; he’d been useful to her this time – that was all that mattered.
Laura was already at a table in the hotel restaurant, rumoured to be one of the best eating establishments in the country and full of rich Sulkanese couples and American oil company executives dining on expense accounts. As she sat down, Cassandra examined Laura critically. Her hair was lank and her eyes rimmed red. She hadn’t even changed; Cassandra could smell the hot sweat of the jungle from the other side of the table. Laura had already ordered an aperitif and lifted the cocktail to her lips, draining the glass in one.
‘I needed that,’ said Laura, motioning to the waiter for another. Cassandra merely lifted an eyebrow.
‘So are you happy the way it went?’ asked Laura.
Cassandra’s smile was wide and genuine.
‘It’s the coup of the decade,’ she said warmly, ‘and I think Xavier definitely did it justice. I think the sales figures will go through the roof. The strongest covers are often the simplest, aren’t they? Those 1960s Esquire covers – Andy Warhol in a Campbell’s soup can or Muhammad Ali with his hands tied. Even that Vanity Fair cover of Jennifer Aniston after her break-up with Brad Pitt – just Jennifer in a man’s shirt. The power of a picture was worth a thousand words.’
‘Well, thank goodness the Ellie Saab dress arrived in time,’ said Laura, taking another drink. Cassandra pursed her lips and let the jibe pass; she was not about to admit her mistake to Laura. She noticed that Laura had glanced twice at her watch in the last five minutes.
‘Is everything all right?’
‘Well, yes,’ she said, shrugging when she realized Cassandra was waiting for a fuller answer. ‘Actually, I was just keen to call Max. I haven’t spoken to him in two days.’
‘I’m sure he’ll cope,’ said Cassandra.
Laura gave a half-smile and flushed. Cassandra sensed that something was wrong.
‘Tell me,’ said Cassandra, hoping she had achieved the right note of professional firmness and personal concern. Laura finished her cocktail before she spoke.
‘I’m not sure Max is happy that I’m spending so much time out of the country,’ said Laura, her eyes darting to the table.
Cassandra felt a little stab of panic. After all, Max had never once complained to her when Laura was on a photo-shoot in LA, Paris or Peru if it meant they could spend a sex-charged night in a hotel or a lazy weekend in Provence.
‘Did he actually say that?’ she asked intently.
‘No,’ replied Laura, ‘but he seems ever so distant these days. My mum calls it the “disapproving quiet”.’
Cassandra felt a sudden short-lived light-headedness; a sense of glee and triumph not to mention wonder that Laura thought Max’s distance from his wife was disapproval! She instantly imagined herself a fly on the wall in the Carlton household; Max’s barely-disguised disinterest in his wife, the inevitable lack of sex in the bedroom – or anywhere else for that matter – their polite but stilted conversations over supper during which Max would feign a meeting in Brussels or Geneva to spend the night with his lover. It was all Cassandra could do to stop herself from laughing out loud.
‘Isn’t Max happy for all the wonderful professional opportunities you’ve been given?’ asked Cassandra.
‘I suppose so, but because he’s away so much himself now …’ Laura paused as her eyes started watering. ‘I, we, don’t want our marriage to suffer.’
Laura drew a napkin to her eye and dabbed it quickly.
‘I’m so sorry, Cassandra. I’m just tired and emotional not to mention rather embarrassed,’ she said with a small smile.
‘Don’t be,’ replied Cassandra.
The waiter came over and Cassandra ordered two salads for them before snapping the menu shut. Laura looked at Cassandra hesitantly.
‘I’ve been meaning to ask you, and this is probably as good a time as any …’ She trailed off, wilting under Cassandra’s gaze. ‘I was wondering if I could cut back on the number of overshoots I’ve being doing.’ She held her hand up in front of her apologetically. ‘Cassandra, I am so grateful for the opportunities you have given me and I think I’ve been doing some of the best work of my career.’