I turn back — but Alicia’s disappeared.
Where did she go?
I hurry down the stairs to ground level, not bothering to wait for the lift. As I enter the floor I pause and look around desperately, searching for a flash of pink. But the whole place is crowded with an influx of excited, yabbering tourists. There are bright colors everywhere.
I push my way through them, breathing hard, telling myself Alicia wouldn’t really say anything to Robyn; she wouldn’t really be so vindictive. And at the same time, knowing that she would.
I can’t see her anywhere on the whole floor. At last I manage to squeeze past a group of tourists clustered round a case full of watches and reach the revolving doors. I push my way out and stand on the street, looking from left to right. I can barely see anything. It’s a blindingly bright day, with low sunlight glinting off plate-glass windows, turning everything into silhouettes and shadows.
“Rebecca.” I feel a hand suddenly pulling sharply at my shoulder. In confusion, I turn round, blinking in the brightness and look up.
As my gaze focuses, I’m gripped by pure, cold terror.
It’s Elinor.
Eighteen
I SHOULD NEVER HAVE stepped outside Tiffany.
“Rebecca, I need to talk to you,” says Elinor coldly. “At once.”
She’s wearing a long black coat and oversized black sunglasses and looks exactly like a member of the Gestapo. Oh God, she’s found out everything, hasn’t she? She’s spoken to Robyn. She’s spoken to Alicia. She’s come to haul me in front of the commandant and condemn me to hard labor.
“How did you know where I was?” I falter.
“Michael Ellis told me,” she replies crisply.
Michael told her? Doesn’t he think I’m suffering enough?
“Well, I’m er… busy,” I say, trying to duck back inside Tiffany. “I haven’t got time to chat.”
“This is not chat.”
“Whatever.”
“This is very important.”
“OK, look, it might seem important,” I say desperately. “But let’s get things in perspective. It’s only a wedding. Compared to things like, you know, foreign treaties…”
“I don’t wish to discuss the wedding.” Elinor frowns. “I wish to discuss Luke.”
“Luke?” I stare at her, taken aback. “How come… have you spoken to him?”
“I had several disturbing messages from him in Switzerland. And yesterday a letter. I returned home immediately.”
“What did the letter say?”
“I’m on my way to see Luke now,” says Elinor, ignoring me. “I would be glad if you accompany me.”
“Are you? Where is he?”
“Michael Ellis went to search for Luke this morning and found him at my apartment. I’m on my way there now. Apparently Luke wishes to speak to me.” She pauses. “But I wanted to talk to you first, Rebecca.”
“Me? Why?”
Before she can answer, a group of tourists comes out of Tiffany and for a moment we’re submerged by them. I could make my getaway under their cover. I could escape.
But now I’m curious. Why does Elinor want to talk to me?
The crowd melts away and we stare at each other.
“Please.” She nods toward the curb. “My car is waiting.”
“OK,” I say, and give a tiny shrug. “I’ll come.”
Once inside Elinor’s plushy limousine, my terror recedes. As I gaze at her pale, impenetrable face, I feel a slow hatred growing inside me instead.
This is the woman who screwed up Luke. This is the woman who ignored her own fourteen-year-old son. Sitting calmly in her limousine. Still behaving as though she owns the world; as though she’s done nothing wrong.
“So what did Luke write in his letter?” I say.
“It was… confused,” she says. “Rambling and nonsensical. He seems to be having some sort of…” She gestures regally.
“Breakdown? Yes, he is.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?” I retort, unable to keep a sarcastic edge out of my voice.
“He works very hard,” says Elinor. “Perhaps too hard sometimes.”
“It’s not the work!” I say, unable to stop myself. “It’s you!”
“Me.” She frowns.
“Yes, you! It’s the way you’ve treated him!”
There’s a long pause. Then Elinor says, “What do you mean?”
She sounds genuinely taken aback. Is she really that insensitive?
“OK… where shall I start? With your charity! The charity that he has spent all his bloody waking hours working for. The charity that you promised him would benefit the profile of his company. But funnily enough didn’t… because you took all the credit yourself!”
God, that felt good. Why have I never spoken my mind to Elinor before?
Her nostrils flare slightly and I can tell she’s angry, but all she says is, “That version of events is skewed.”
“It’s not skewed! You used Luke!”
“He never complained about the amount of work he was doing.”
“He wouldn’t complain! But you must have seen how much time he was giving you for nothing! You used one of his staff, for God’s sake! I mean, that alone was bound to get him into trouble—”
“I agree,” says Elinor.
“What?” I’m momentarily halted.
“To use staff from Brandon Communcations was not my idea. Indeed, I was against it. It was Luke who insisted. And as I have explained to Luke, the newspaper article was not my fault. I was given the option of a last-minute interview. Luke was unavailable. I told the journalist at great length about Luke’s involvement and gave him Brandon Communications promotional literature. The journalist promised to read it but then used none of it. I assure you, Rebecca, it was out of my control.”