Private Lives

‘Helen obviously sees some steeliness in you. She wouldn’t have hired you otherwise.’

‘I’m not sure she sees anything in me these days except a cock-up.’

‘After the Sam Charles thing?’

Anna nodded. ‘I thought she was going to fire me.’

He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

‘We’ve all screwed up, Anna. Don’t you think Helen’s had her failures?’

‘I thought she was indestructible, like Superwoman,’ she laughed.

‘That’s the secret of high-achieving people: good spin. You never hear about the knock-backs, the disappointments, just the good stuff. History is written by the victors, isn’t it?’

Anna nodded. ‘Wise words, boss man. But I still don’t want Superwoman blasting me with her laser eyes, so I’d better go and have a little word with our friends the paparazzi.’ She stood up, brushing the grass off her skirt. ‘Are you going to stay here?’

‘I’ve got a little mission of my own,’ he said, trying to sound mysterious.

Anna smiled.

‘My guess is that she’ll be in the production office up at the house. I don’t think she’s on for a couple of hours.’

Matthew watched her trot over the grass, her ponytail bouncing from side to side. The photographers were stationed at the entrance to the VIP area, waiting to catch any celebrities going in or out. He couldn’t hear what she was saying to them, but he could see her face, serious and no-nonsense, as she jabbed her finger at one of the paps, warning him to keep his distance from Chantal or face her wrath. Matthew chuckled to himself as he watched those burly, scary-looking men with their big cameras and their stepladders all looking at the ground and shuffling their feet. You go, girl, he smiled admiringly, then turned and strode towards Parkstead House.

Kim Collier was standing on a balcony at the front of the mansion. The event was being filmed for TV and there were cameras pointing towards the stage. She was watching Chantal Elliot perform on one of the monitors.

‘Hello,’ she said as she spotted Matt, folding her arms defensively across her chest. ‘I’m not sure I should be speaking to you.’

Matt knew he had to play it cool, make it seem like a coincidence.

‘Don’t worry, I’m actually here for her,’ he said, gesturing towards the screen. ‘Chantal’s a client.’

‘Well shouldn’t you be down there, then?’ said Kim.

‘Better vantage point from here.’

‘Like a sniper?’ she said frostily.

They listened to Chantal’s soaring vocals.

‘Bloody hell. I wish I had a voice like that,’ Kim said more softly. ‘You know, if she only got her act together, she could be the new Ella Fitzgerald.’

‘We all make mistakes,’ said Matt evenly.

‘Is that a swipe?’ she asked.

He took a breath, knowing it was his moment to speak. He had been mentally rehearsing what he might say to her in the taxi over, but now he was here, the words seemed to have deserted him. He knew he had to speak from the heart rather than the script he had written in his head.

‘Do you know how long I’ve been at Donovan Pierce?’ he said finally.

‘No idea,’ she snapped.

‘Six weeks. Three months ago I had my own little practice in Hammersmith. Then one day, a man I barely knew called Larry Donovan came along and gave me his share of this big media firm.’

She frowned. ‘I thought Larry Donovan was your dad.’

‘He is.’ Matt met her gaze directly. ‘In twenty-five years I met him maybe a dozen times. He missed my entire childhood and I’ll be totally honest with you, I’ve never really got over that.’