Kiss Heaven Goodbye Part 54

'Come on, Livvy,' called Grace.'Looks like your guests are starting to arrive.' Sitting on the window seat of her daughter's bedroom, she peered out of the long windows and could just make out the headlights of a coach bringing the first lot of arrivals. The door to the en suite bathroom opened and Olivia stepped out.

'How do I look?' she asked, doing a dainty pirouette.

In five-inch heels and an ivory minidress, her hair tied up in a top-knot, she looked both s.e.xy and elegant and far more mature than her years.

'You look like a G.o.ddess,' said Grace with maternal pride. Mother and daughter had gone through some difficult times after Grace had found the contraceptive pills in Olivia's bag. They had rowed constantly over boys, drinking, clothes and money. Olivia had defied Grace, sworn at her, stayed out all night. In the end, however, they had got over the worst. Olivia was less truculent and rebellious, Grace less protective and controlling. It had been a long journey for both of them, and Grace realised she had needed to grow up a little too. Six months ago she had celebrated her fortieth birthday, and yet she still wasn't ready to accept that she had a daughter who was beautiful enough to grace the cover of any fas.h.i.+on magazine in the world.

'Wait. How about something in your hair?' she said, picking up a black velvet box she had left on the side.

'What is it?' said Olivia.

'Just something your grandmother gave to me when I moved to Parador.'

Olivia opened the box and took out a beautiful silver and diamond hairclip. 'Gosh, Mum, it's lovely.'

'It's been in the Hernandez family for three generations now you make it four.'

Isabella had given it to her that second Christmas, as a belated 'welcome to the family' gesture. Grace had been touched nevertheless, and as she clipped it into Olivia's hair, she felt a warm sense of having completed a circle.

The party filled up quickly as two coaches ferried in guests from Danehurst, the local tennis club Joseph belonged to, as well as private homes in London and Oxfords.h.i.+re. After much debate, an alcohol bar had been provided along with catering by the Admirable Crichton, who had been responsible for the Posh and Becks nuptials.

'Are you sure this is an eighteenth party?' said Sarah as the guests filed in. 'It looks like a particularly decadent night at Studio 54.' The presence of Sarah, Grace and Connie as unofficial chaperones was the one concession the twins had been forced to agree to for their party, although Grace was not looking forward to an evening acting like some prison guard, separating h.o.r.n.y teenagers. Besides which, Sarah was right, none of the guests looked like teenagers. The girls, especially, seemed impossibly glamorous and sophisticated.

'Now you're not going to get in the way, are you, Mum?' said Olivia. 'You must remember what it was like to be eighteen.'

'She doesn't, but I do,' said Sarah. 'So no funny business, OK?'

Connie walked in holding a silver envelope and handed it to Olivia. 'Special message for Mr Joseph and Ms Olivia Hernandez,' she said.

'Joe!' shouted Olivia. Her brother ran over as she tore open the envelope. He was wearing a midnight-blue dinner suit and had his father's dark eyes and thick, floppy hair. Sometimes Grace would look up and catch sight of him and think she was back in Australia.

'What's it say?' said Joe eagerly, peering over his sister's shoulder.

'"Sorry I can't be there, but hopefully these might make up for it. Uncle Miles."'

Olivia looked at her mother, but Grace shrugged. She had no idea what this was about. Her daughter turned to Connie.

'What is it? What's Uncle Miles got us?'

Raising her eyebrows, Connie pointed towards the front door. Squealing, Olivia ran outside, closely followed by Joe and the rest of the party. Two gleaming silver sports cars were parked outside.

'OhmyG.o.d! OhmyG.o.d!' said Olivia, dancing on the spot. Joseph had already opened the door of the first one and all his friends were crowding around, clapping him on the back.

Grace went over to Julian. He was smiling, but she saw that he looked put out. He didn't like to be upstaged.

'They can't even drive,' he said, walking back inside.

Olivia was squealing again. 'Look, there's platinum Globe Club members.h.i.+p in the glove compartment!'

Frantic discussions began between her and her friends about when they could first head off to London, before someone had the more extravagant plan of flying out to New York to sample the Globe Club there.

Olivia ran over to show her mother. 'Why don't we see more of Uncle Miles, Mum? He's so cool.'

Grace flashed her mother a look, and Connie gave her a small smile. 'He's a very busy man, Liv. He's out of the country most of the time.'

'Can I go to New York in the summer?' Olivia said. 'It'd be so brilliant.'

Grace was about to say 'no, you're too young to travel alone' when she remembered her own disappearing act when she was not much older than her daughter.

'We'll see, honey,' she said. To her surprise, Olivia grabbed her, giving her a hug.

'You're so cool sometimes, Mum,' she said.The next two hours pa.s.sed by in a blur for Grace. As the guests got progressively more drunk and frisky one couple were found completely naked in the gun room the adults discreetly patrolled the party making sure behaviour wasn't getting too out of hand, and that the security in the roped-off parts of the manor, such as the indoor pool and the gallery, hadn't been breached. For all his pre-party worrying, Julian didn't seem all that concerned with what was going on; in fact he seemed to be enjoying himself holding court in the kitchen, surrounded by adoring girls bombarding him with questions about art and the celebrities he knew. By ten thirty Grace felt fit to drop and went to the bar for a fortifying gla.s.s of red wine.

'With two hundred teenagers to watch over, I thought I might find you at the booze supply,' said an amused voice behind her.

'Alex!' she cried, turning to hug him. 'You're here!'

'I've been here a while actually,' said Alex. 'Sarah had me collared in the conservatory.'

For once, Grace didn't feel jealous, possibly because she and Alex had spent so much time together over the past six months while he'd worked on the score for her doc.u.mentary. After he left the clinic, he had declined her offer to stay at Toddington, but he had seen her at least once a week: trips to the West End, walks around the village, or brunch to discuss the doc.u.mentary. She'd come to look forward to their time together, all the 'coupley' things she should have been doing with Julian, who never seemed to have the time. And it had been wonderful to see Alex slowly come back to life. Despite the recent mugging, Alex still seemed remarkably upbeat; the old twinkle was returning to his eyes, especially when he'd played her the music. It was amazing: dramatic, romantic, moving. Everything she had hoped for for both of them.

She got Alex a tonic water from the bar, then led him to the library, where she could rest her aching feet and they could hear themselves above the thumping ba.s.s of the funk band.

'You know Joseph asked me to do an acoustic session in the stables later on?' Alex said.

'You're not going to, are you?'

'I said I'd have a jam with a few of the lads if they were interested. But get up on stage? Not a chance. They're going to want to see Lady Gaga or JLS. A bunch of eighteen-year-olds aren't going to be interested in some old fella with a guitar.'

'Even one who's sold a hundred million records?'

'Especially one who's sold a hundred million records. I think I'm officially Mum and Dad's music now.' one who's sold a hundred million records. I think I'm officially Mum and Dad's music now.'

They stared into the library fire, listening to the m.u.f.fled sound of the DJ.

'So what did Sarah collar you about, then?'

'Oh, the state of the music industry, how the old songs are better than all this new-fangled rubbish. Your average party conversation.'

Part of Grace felt that Alex and Sarah were the answer to each other's problems. He needed someone strong and dependable, while Sarah was looking for a decent DNA donor before her biological clock ran out of steam, but she felt an out-of-character flush of relief that he did not seem remotely interested in Sarah.

She cupped her hands around her wine gla.s.s. 'I can't believe my kids are eighteen. They'll be off to university this year.'

'Does this make you officially an empty-nester?'

'It makes me old.'

'Nonsense,' said Alex. 'Plenty of women are just having their first child at your age. Maybe it's time you settled down.'

'Well, Julian does propose to me sporadically. I might have to take him up on his next offer just so I don't feel like some crabby old spinster.'

'You should,' he said, staring into the fire. 'It's good to have someone to look out for you. What's been stopping you all these years?'

Grace shrugged. 'I've done it once before, remember?'

'Still holding a torch for El Presidente?'

She shook her head. 'No, I saw a lot of Gabe making the movie in Palumbo. He's moved on, he's happy. He's got a wife who's good for him.'

'I thought that about Melissa, and look where that got me.' He took a sip of his tonic water. 'I see Miles sent elaborate gifts.'

She grunted. 'Like two eighteen-year-olds need sports cars and club members.h.i.+p.'

'Miles always was good at buying his way into people's affections. It's when you've got to pay him back that it becomes a problem.'Out in the courtyard, Olivia was enjoying a Gauloise cigarette. She liked the French brands; they made her look cool. Not that she needed any help in that department. Over Christmas she'd been shopping in Topshop and was spotted by scouts from both Storm and Models One. Olivia knew what she wanted to do when school was finally over. Her brother might have a place at Cambridge, but what guarantee was that of getting on in the world? Good looks and contacts, that was what mattered, and she was determined to work her advantages to the max.

She looked up as she heard the door open: Julian, wearing a dinner suit with a white T-s.h.i.+rt underneath and box-fresh plimsolls. She didn't bother to hide the cigarette; she was eighteen now and he wasn't her father, was he?

'Enjoying your birthday, Liv?' he asked.

'Yeah, it's been cool,' she said nonchalantly. 'The car is fantastic but I don't think Mum approves. Then again, she doesn't approve of anything these days, does she?'

Olivia was pleased that Julian didn't stick up for Grace. Although she had disliked him as a child, as the years had pa.s.sed she had come to view him as an ally. Years ago, after her mum had found her pills, she had heard her and Julian arguing about it. 'Treat her like a grown-up, Grace!' he'd said. 'If she wants to have s.e.x, she'll have it whether she's on the pill or not.' Well, he was right there.

'Have you seen your mother anywhere?'

'Talking to Alex Doyle last time I saw her. As always,' she said mischievously.

Julian smiled. Olivia had noticed he had a dirty, s.e.xy smile, as if he was always thinking about something naughty.

'I mean, don't you get embarra.s.sed how they're always off whispering in corners? People wondering, you know, if there's something going on?'

Julian laughed softly. 'I don't think your mother is the type to have an affair,' he said.

Olivia blew a smoke ring. 'A lot of people think that about their spouses. Until they get presented with an opportunity.' She was pleased to see a cloud of concern pa.s.s over his face.

'Can I have a pull on that thing?' he asked. He took the cigarette from her fingers and drew it to his mouth.

Through the smoke she looked at his face, lined and worn from experience, fun, life, excitement, success. Julian was not a particularly good-looking man but there was something about it that made him incredibly attractive. Certainly her friends from London were terribly excited to meet him. Art was the new rock and roll these days, or so she'd read in some glossy magazine. She had no idea what he saw in such a square and earnest woman as her mother.

'I got a car from Uncle Miles, the trust fund from the family, the watch from Mum,' said Olivia. 'What am I getting from you?'

'What do you want?'

'A picture.'

He smiled. 'That shouldn't be too difficult to sort out.'

'No, I want a picture of me. Come on, draw me.'

'What, now?'

'Of course. Every girl wants to be an artist's muse.'

She could see desire spark into his eyes and she knew he wanted her but then she'd known that for a while now. Last summer, when she'd been sunbathing alone by the stream running through the grounds, he'd come down and asked her if she fancied a swim, his eyes lingering over her tiny Eres bikini.

It felt good being desired by a man like Julian. Anyone could get a red-blooded, constantly h.o.r.n.y eighteen-year-old interested in them. Boys were easy prey. Real men, now they were more of a challenge.

She walked up close to him.

'Come to my room in five minutes,' she whispered, stamping her cigarette out under her heel and disappearing back into the house.

Ten minutes later there was a polite knock at her bedroom door.

'Lock it,' she said. He did as she instructed and she knew he was putty in her hands.

'So what does a muse do now?' she said, tipping her head to one side.

He stood a foot away from her and folded his arms across his chest.

'Let me look at you,' he said, a quiver in his voice.

'OK,' she said, unzipping her dress and letting it fall to the floor. She'd removed her panties before he'd got there and stood naked in front of him except for her red-soled Louboutins.

'Come closer,' she said, enjoying the sense of power she had over him. She hadn't felt this aroused, this in control, since she had f.u.c.ked Mr Browning, her English teacher, twelve months ago. He'd been a terrible s.h.a.g, but at least he had let her coast through his A level cla.s.s ever since.

'You're beautiful,' he whispered.

'I know.'

'I want you.'

'I know.'

He put his hand out, tracing around her dark beige aureole with the tip of his finger. His skin felt grooved and rough like an emery board, and as he moved his fingers down her long, lithe body she groaned, desperate to feel him inside her.

'Touch me,' she said, parting her legs, feeling his hand moving between her thighs. She gasped as he dipped two fingers into her warmth, then circled her hips, clenching around him.

'Happy birthday,' he whispered, pulling out of her to unfasten his trousers.

She felt a glow of pleasure and accomplishment. 'Make sure you make it one to remember.'Connie Ashford was a careful woman. Over the years, she'd had to learn to be. She did not like to think ill of the dead, but life had certainly not been easy with Robert Ashford. She'd known that her husband had been having affairs since soon after their children had been born, and she knew it went with the turf when you were married to a rich and successful man. But having made the decision to stay married to him, she had spent over two decades on red alert, safeguarding her position, ensuring none of his mistresses got too serious, and with the exception of Sasha Sinclair, she had been expert at detecting when women were closing in for the kill on her husband.

So when she'd seen her granddaughter and Julian talking, flirting in the courtyard, sharing a cigarette, she had been suspicious. She had never liked Julian, whom she considered too c.o.c.ky and self-important by half, and Olivia had always been so precocious, rebellious and selfish. It was not surprising that she might be flattered by her mother's glamorous boyfriend, but she couldn't know what he had in mind, what foul idea was growing in his head. Age might have dulled Connie's senses, but life experience had sharpened her instincts. So she watched and waited.

The whole of the south wing had been closed off to the party and the corridors were dark. Approaching Olivia's bedroom, she could see that the door was closed, but she could hear noises coming from inside. Horrible, horrible noises. The guttural groans of frantic, pa.s.sionate s.e.x.

How could he? She was just a child! It was tantamount to incest. Connie's anger rose: she couldn't have this, she wouldn't allow it. Through Robert's selfishness she had been robbed of seeing her own children grow up, and she was fiercely protective of her granddaughter. She was just a child! It was tantamount to incest. Connie's anger rose: she couldn't have this, she wouldn't allow it. Through Robert's selfishness she had been robbed of seeing her own children grow up, and she was fiercely protective of her granddaughter.

'Stop this!' she shouted, banging her hand on the door. 'Stop it at once!'