Kiss Heaven Goodbye Part 40

'The "we're getting married" news, stupid.'

He felt his cheeks flush. 'Of course. Well, maybe later,' he said, suddenly feeling tongue-tied and embarra.s.sed. 'Don't you want to tell your friends first?'

But Melissa had already gone, trotting over to another super-groomed blonde woman. 'Darling,' she said, 'you'll never guess, but I've got some fabulous news ...'

And when Alex looked around for Grace, she had gone.Sasha loved the venue for her party; she only wished it hadn't come with strings attached. Chambrey Park was not quite the biggest private residence in the Home Counties but it was, quite possibly, the prettiest. The cut-gla.s.s chandeliers sparkled diamonds of light around the restored ballroom which was lined with beautiful modernist art: Warhol, Basquiat, Matisse. Its owner, Abu Dhabi billionaire Iftaka Khani, had been extremely generous in offering Sasha his house for her thirtieth birthday party. Generous, but not altogether altruistic. He had taken a great s.h.i.+ne to the beautiful entrepreneur, lavis.h.i.+ng her with gifts, dinners and invites to his many homes around the globe, and as Sasha was officially single, and he was one of the most eligible bachelors in London, he clearly thought it was only a matter of time before they would become an item. He certainly had made an effort. The catering had been done by the Fat Duck restaurant, just a stone's throw away in Bray, and the music was courtesy of Fatboy Slim. That alone must have cost a fortune. Still not enough Still not enough, thought Sasha with a s.h.i.+ver, thinking of Iftaka's fifty-inch waist and hairy hands.

She walked through the party exchanging air-kisses and compliments, then stopped on the mezzanine balcony. Behind her through long windows she could just see the River Thames glinting in the moonlight, while in front of her the party was crackling with laughter and energy, the guest list a glamorous mix of old money, new money, fas.h.i.+on legends and Hoxton hipsters. She smiled as she remembered the times she'd had to sweet-talk bouncers to get into the sought-after London parties. But fas.h.i.+on had been kind to her, sweeping her up on the crest of a wave and giving her a place in society, not to mention a flouris.h.i.+ng business. What was it that Vogue Vogue had said about the Rivera label recently? That its fans were buying into the fantasy of Sasha Sinclair's lifestyle: chic, successful new millennium glamour. Well it was a fantasy she had created all by herself, she thought. This party was full of so-called 'self-made people' who'd actually been backed by family money or wealthy spouses. Yes, Sasha had needed investment too, but she had used every ounce of ingenuity, every contact, every business advantage; she'd worked ruthlessly to make it happen. had said about the Rivera label recently? That its fans were buying into the fantasy of Sasha Sinclair's lifestyle: chic, successful new millennium glamour. Well it was a fantasy she had created all by herself, she thought. This party was full of so-called 'self-made people' who'd actually been backed by family money or wealthy spouses. Yes, Sasha had needed investment too, but she had used every ounce of ingenuity, every contact, every business advantage; she'd worked ruthlessly to make it happen.

Ruthless. That was what Ben Rivera had called her when she'd finally pushed him out kicking and screaming, although she'd noticed that he didn't refuse the five-million-pound pay-off. 'Rivera will never succeed without me!' he had declared. Well he was wrong. She'd swiftly hired a talented young French designer, and with Sasha firmly steering the design, she had taken the company to even greater heights it had recently been valued at a hundred million dollars. No, it was an amazing place to be at thirty, but still Sasha felt a pang of sadness. There was one person missing from this party: her father. Twelve months ago Gerald Sinclair had had a stroke which left him paralysed down one side. Although some speech and mobility had returned slowly, he was still a shadow of himself and she hadn't been surprised when her mother had turned up at the party without him. She smiled to herself. If Ben Rivera thinks I'm ruthless, he's never met my mother.

Her mobile phone was buzzing. Irritated, she snapped it open and then smiled at the message. 'First bedroom on the second floor,' it read.

Robert was waiting for her, silhouetted against the window. She locked the door and went over to him, running her hands over his shoulders.

'Where's Connie?' she whispered.

'Talking to Iftaka Khani.'

'Ironic,' said Sasha.

He looked at her seriously. 'There's nothing going on there, is there? You and Iftaka. I mean, it's good of him to do this ...'

'I've never made him promises.'

'Good.'

His smile pleased her. Recently they'd celebrated the fifth anniversary of their relations.h.i.+p. It was longer than most marriages in their world. Yes, Sasha sporadically dated other men, but whenever Robert called, she would come running. He was her north point, the only other pa.s.sion that co-existed with her business in her universe. She didn't like being possessed, even if it was her choice, but she still wanted to feel desired.

'I'm a single girl, Robert,' she said. 'I can do what I please.'

'Don't go playing hard to get,' he said, turning her around and kissing the back of her neck. 'Not when I've got something special planned for us both tomorrow.'

He slid his hand into her dress and cupped her breast, rubbing the nipple with his palm. She tipped her head back and moaned. She wanted him inside her now, and from the hardness of his c.o.c.k, she could tell he wanted her too.

'The door's locked,' he mumbled into her hair.

Suddenly she took a step away from him and turned around. 'Well you'd better go and unlock it,' she said. 'I've got to get back to the party.'

He looked at her, puzzled.'Sasha, we've got a private minute here. Let's make the most of it.'

G.o.d, she wanted him, but she knew it was time to play a different game. It was time to start calling the shots. The truth was, she'd hated seeing him arrive with Connie, hated the polite, remote way he'd spoken to her when they had been standing with mutual friends. She knew it was the price of their secret romance, but it was a price she was no longer going to pay.

'Sasha. I can't go back out there. I've got a hard-on the size of Africa.'

She looked him up and down witheringly. 'Hmm. Looks like you're going to have to stay here for a little while then,' she replied flatly, handing him an interiors magazine from the bedside table as she headed for the door. 'But don't worry, we can pick up where we left off tomorrow.''Remind me why I'm here?' said Sarah Brayfield as she watched Sasha Sinclair glide down the stairs.

'She's not that bad,' smiled Grace, glad that her former flatmate had come to the party with her. Sarah's no-nonsense approach hadn't changed over the years Grace suspected it was essential in her job as a media litigation lawyer and it was refres.h.i.+ng to go to a society party with someone who didn't think everything was 'fabulous'.

'She is is that bad, Grace!' said Sarah. 'You might have forgotten what a pain in the a.r.s.e she was that holiday in Angel Cay, but I haven't. She's poisonous and she always will be.' that bad, Grace!' said Sarah. 'You might have forgotten what a pain in the a.r.s.e she was that holiday in Angel Cay, but I haven't. She's poisonous and she always will be.'

'Ah, the tolerance, the generosity of spirit; Sarah Brayfield, how I've missed you.' Grace giggled.

The two women clinked their c.o.c.ktail gla.s.ses together. As part of her plan to build bridges she had burnt over the years, Grace had contacted Sarah straight after Freya's wedding and was delighted when she had agreed to be her 'date' for the party. It was hard to believe that she hadn't seen her since she had left for Thailand all those years ago. That, Grace now realised, was the real tragedy of Angel Cay. It had robbed her of her friends.

'When are you coming back to London, Gracie?' asked Sarah. 'I've still not forgiven you for b.u.g.g.e.ring off to Australia and marrying Che Guevara.'

'You mean the father of my children,' she said, raising one eyebrow.

'Yes, him. And then you go off and lead the b.l.o.o.d.y good life in Ibiza. You know I never saw you as the Spanish Felicity Kendal. Come on, you've got to admit you miss London?'

Grace pulled a face.

'Well all right then, you must miss me at least? I promise I've cleaned up my act. I don't even drink snakebite and black any more on a night out. It's all elegant c.o.c.ktails and good behaviour now.'

'I should think so. I'd hate to think of you staggering around the High Court reeking of booze.'

They laughed.

'Seriously, though, we do have to get out on the pull,' said Sarah. She had never married another of the things she had inherited from her hippy parents was a distrust of the inst.i.tution and had only recently split up from her barrister boyfriend of three years. 'I mean, when was the last time you had s.e.x, Grace? If you tell me it's last century I'm going have to batter you with this c.o.c.ktail umbrella.'

'It's hard being a single mum.'

'Excuses, excuses.'

'I'm serious,' protested Grace. 'I was at Glasgow airport the other day and this Ewan McGregor lookalike smiled at me at the baggage carousel. You should have seen his face when the kids came to help me with the luggage.'

'Well I saw Julian Adler clocking you earlier.'

'The artist?' said Grace. 'Don't be silly. He was probably just looking for the loos or something.'

'Well I think he's pretty s.e.xy in a "going to seed but knows it" kind of way. I bet he'd be filthy in bed too sensitive fingers.'

Grace laughed, but she couldn't help scanning the crowd to see if she could spot the famous painter.

'Have you seen Alex yet?' she asked. 'I thought I saw him through the crowd but then he disappeared.'

Sarah looked at her wide-eyed. 'Alex Doyle Doyle is here? So that's why you've dragged me out to b.l.o.o.d.y Berks.h.i.+re.' is here? So that's why you've dragged me out to b.l.o.o.d.y Berks.h.i.+re.'

'Don't be daft.'

'Well I hope not, because you do know he's got a superstar girlfriend, don't you? I suspect even you can't compete with her.'

Grace shook her head, surprised at how disappointed she felt at the news. 'What superstar girlfriend?' she asked.

'Whatshername, Melissa Jackson. Hollywood s.e.x-pot.'

Grace almost snorted her drink down her nose. 'What? He goes out with He goes out with her her?'

Sarah tutted. 'Don't you ever read Heat Heat?'

'Not in rural Ibiza, no.'

'Well, they're LA's hottest power couple; they're practically joined at the hip.'

Suddenly Grace felt the music getting louder, the crowd pressing in.

'Listen, I'm going to the bar,' she said. 'Do you want anything? '

'Don't worry about me,' said Sarah. 'I've just spotted that guy Iftaka, the one who owns this place. I'll put in a good word for you!'

'Oh G.o.d, don't ...' But Sarah was already tapping the stocky Arab on the shoulder.

Blus.h.i.+ng, Grace headed in the opposite direction, suddenly remembering why she preferred her quiet farmhouse in Ibiza.Alex had managed to give Melissa the slip. Not that he wanted to get rid of his fiancee exactly, but he wanted to tell Grace about their engagement privately, without Melissa making a big deal of it. He had no reason to break it to her gently, of course, but he felt she would appreciate hearing it from him, rather than reading about it in the papers.

He found Grace in the orangery, sitting on a marble bench sipping a gla.s.s of champagne. 'Guess who?' he said, coming up behind her and covering her eyes with the palms of his hands.

'Al Doyle. Rock and roll superstar,' said Grace with her throaty chuckle. 'I thought I saw you coming in.'

'It's still Alex to you, by the way,' he said, sitting down next to her. 'I haven't turned into a complete k.n.o.b quite yet.'

'I wasn't suggesting you had.' She smiled.

'Here, give us a swig of your bubbly,' he said. 'I've got a throat like a badger.'

She covered the gla.s.s with her hand. 'Are you allowed?'

Alex rolled his eyes. 'Not you too. The person I came with is on a zero tolerance alcohol drive at the moment. Some health kick in time for the Oscars. It's all mung beans and green algae drinks.'

'The person you came with?' She smiled. 'Would that be your Hollywood girlfriend?'

He nodded. 'Yeah. Melissa's cool.'

'She was terrific in that film about the lost puppy.'

'Are you being sarcastic?'

'No! I'm the mother of two ten-year-olds,' said Grace. 'It kept them quiet for two hours on a flight to Parador.'

There was a moment's awkward silence.

'It's good to see you, Grace,' he said, nudging her. 'Haven't seen you in ages.'

'Two years.' She smiled slowly. 'But in Hollywood years that's probably about two minutes, right?'

'I'm surprised you're here,' said Alex. 'You know, because of the ... Well, I never thought you and Sasha were particularly close.'

Grace shrugged. 'I could say the same thing about you.'

'Ah, well Melissa didn't actually tell me whose party it was until I got here.'

'I came willingly,' she said with a sheepish grin. 'Actually, Sasha told me you were coming and I thought that unless I went to Wembley or somewhere, it was my best chance of seeing you.'

'Hey!' protested Alex. 'I've been busy.'

'I know, I know,' teased Grace. 'Rock stars aren't allowed to use the phone.'

She looked around the orangery. 'So do you have bodyguards lurking in the shrubbery?'

'Not tonight.' He smiled, a little sadly. 'In England, people still think of me as that bloke from Year Zero.'

'Come on, even I know you've had three number-one alb.u.ms.'

Alex laughed. 'Hey, listen. This was all your idea. If you hadn't told me to go solo in Ibiza, I'd be living in some bedsit in Catford by now remembering the days when about five people knew I was the guitarist in some band no one can remember the name of any more.'

'Whatever happened to Year Zero anyway?'

'Drugs, cabaret, fatherhood, in that order,' said Alex. 'Jez, the singer, is still out there searching for his big break, although he's been dropped by his record company and I hear he's got badly into drugs, not that I'm one to talk. Gav is playing in a show band on the cruise s.h.i.+ps and having the time of his life by all accounts. And Pete has gone into teaching and become the proud father to a baby girl called Isabelle. He's asked me to be G.o.dfather at her christening, would you believe?'

'Heavens,' laughed Grace. 'I guess Cool Britannia really is well and truly over.'

Alex s.h.i.+fted on the cold bench slightly. He knew he should tell her about the engagement, but it didn't seem like the right moment.

'So what about you?' he asked, playing for time. 'You still in Ibiza? I must come out and see you again, if the offer's open of course. I loved it out there.'

'I've been thinking of coming home, actually,' she said, looking at her hands. 'Not full time, just term-time, if I can get Joe and Liv into good schools over here. I want them to have the best of both worlds, and it would be good if they could spend more time with my mum, too.'

'You should come back,' said Alex. 'I think England agrees with you; you seem back to your old self. Not that there was anything wrong with you in Ibiza,' he added quickly.

'Well it will give me the chance to give my photography a proper crack. There isn't much call for it in Ibiza beyond shooting another line of olive trees for Conde Nast Traveller Conde Nast Traveller.'

'Hey, why don't you take my picture?'

'What, now?'

'No, I mean do my alb.u.m sleeve.'

She started laughing.

'I mean it,' said Alex.'Those portraits at your house were amazing and my label have been talking about doing something black and white, gritty. They want me to be taken a bit more seriously.'

'As opposed to being a teenybopper adored by millions of teenage girls? Besides, you're too pretty to look gritty.'

'Well, the girls might not be so interested in me when I'm married.'

He watched as Grace's smile slipped temporarily.

'Married?' she said quietly.