The Yacht Party (Lara Stone)

‘You went out on the balcony?’

She nodded. ‘Ian Fox was at the scene. He let me into the apartment.’

‘What did you see?’

It was an instinctive question, but Alex immediately knew he’d over-stepped the mark. Lara turned on him, but Alex held up a hand.

‘I’ve already told the news team not to run it, but you know I won’t be able to do anything once Darius gets into the office – and we can’t control the other papers.’

They both fell silent, just the gentle lap of river water against the hull of the boat filling the gap between them.

‘I haven’t offered you a coffee,’ she said, suddenly standing up.

He grabbed her hand and stopped her.

‘Stop, just come here,’ he said, rising up out of his chair.

Face to face, he pulled Lara into a hug, resting his chin on the top of her head. Alex couldn’t ever remember Lara crying, but he could feel her body against his chest, tight like a drum, as if she was holding it all back. They stood there for a long moment, the river moving beneath them.

‘You know two days ago, I thought my world was going to end,’ said Lara. ‘Felix bloody Tait, some stupid argument about nothing.’

‘It’s okay,’ he whispered, holding her. ‘It’ll be okay.’ He knew the futility of the words, but what else was there to say?

Over the years they had been through so much together. Good times and bad. On their crazy nights out in their twenties they had laughed so much their bellies hurt. And the worst times too: when his mother had got sick and Alex had been stationed abroad, she had collected him from Heathrow, driven him home to Cumbria, saying all the right things on the longest journey of his life. Finally Lara pulled away.

‘You know we had the talk about this at work?’ said Lara, pulling away, wiping her moist eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. ‘Appropriate contact between colleagues?’

‘I think even HR might allow this one,’ he said, trying for a smile.

Alex wanted to stand there forever and pretend it wasn’t happening, but he knew things needed to be done.

‘Have you spoken to her parents yet?’ he said.

Lara sighed.

‘For the past hour I’ve just been running over and over in my head what I can say to them. But I just couldn’t find the words. Not like me, huh?’

It truly wasn’t. Lara was the smartest, bravest, most capable person he knew, she never hesitated. That’s why it was so painful to see her this way, lost at sea.

‘Let me sort out the arrangements,’ said Alex.

‘You don’t have to do that.’

‘No, let me. I met them at her flat in Montmartre that time we were all in Paris – they’ll remember me. I’ll get them here if they need to come.’

Lara shoulders shrugged, a gesture of resignation.

‘Thanks.’

She gave a small nod and turned away, looking back across the river. The sky was lighter now, with dusky apricot clouds blooming behind the distant high-rise blocks, far too cheery for the mood.

‘You should go,’ said Lara. ‘You’ll miss the morning conference. One of us has already been fired this week, we don’t want to make it two.’

His eyes met hers.

‘You know I’m always here for you, don’t you?’

She nodded, then glanced away. Alex could hardly blame her for doubting him. There had been a time when Alex and Lara had been inseparable; best friends, if nothing else. But over the past eighteen months, since Alicia had arrived on the scene, they had hardly seen one another outside of a work setting. It was only now that Alex realised just how much he had missed her.