‘It’s so lovely to find an author you love’
MARIAN
KEYES
THE OTHER SISTER
Twins share everything, including secrets . . .
The Sunday Times Bestseller
Rowan Coleman
penguin books
Rowan Coleman is the Sunday Times bestselling and award-winning screenwriter and author of sixteen novels including The Memory Book, The Summer of Impossible Things, The Girl at the Window and From Now Until Forever. Rowan lives in Scarborough with her husband, large family and three dogs.
Find out more about Rowan at www.rowancoleman.co.uk
Facebook or X: @rowancoleman
Instagram or TikTok: @rowanmcoleman
Praise for Rowan Coleman:
‘I’ve always loved Rowan’s writing’ Lucy Dillon
‘Beautifully written’ Daily Mail
‘There is a lovely smooth glow to the writing’ Matt Haig
‘Epic’ Red
‘Painfully real and utterly heartbreaking . . . wonderfully uplifting’ Lisa Jewell
‘Stupendous’ Lucy Diamond
‘Utterly life affirming’ Jenny Colgan
‘A book you will carry with you long after the last page’ Milly Johnson
‘Magical, wonderful and beautifully written’ Trisha Ashley
‘Whenever I read a Rowan Coleman novel, I am always taken on a great adventure’ Alice Peterson
‘Beautiful’ Louise Beech
‘Life-affirming and joyful’ Sara Sheridan
Also by Rowan Coleman
From Now Until Forever
The Girl at the Window
The Summer of Impossible Things
Looking for Captain Poldark
We Are All Made of Stars
The Memory Book
Runaway Wife
A Home for Broken Hearts
The Baby Group
Woman Walks into a Bar River Deep
After Ever After Growing Up Twice
The Accidental Family
The Accidental Wife
The Accidental Mother
PENGUIN BOOK S
Rowan Coleman
Rowan Coleman
PENGUIN BOOKS
UK | USA | Canada | Ireland | Australia India | New Zealand | South Africa
Penguin Books is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com
First published as Lessons in Laughing Out Loud by Arrow Books in 2011
Published by Ebury Press in 2016
Published in Penguin Books 2024 001
Copyright © Rowan Coleman, 2011
The moral right of the author has been asserted
Typeset by SX Composing DTP, Rayleigh, Essex SS6 7XF
Printed and bound in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, Elcograf S.p.A.
The authorised representative in the EEA is Penguin Random House Ireland, Morrison Chambers, 32 Nassau Street, Dublin D02 YH68
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN: 978–1–804–95046–3
www.greenpenguin.co.uk
Penguin Random Hous e is committed to a sustainable future for our business , our readers and our planet. is book is made from Forest Stewardship Council® certified paper.
Formychildren,LilyandFred,whomake
melaughoutloudeveryday
ChapterOne
Therearemomentsineveryperson’slifewhensomethingas simpleasawrongturn,animpulsivedecision,oradoorsoftly drawingtoaclosecanchangeeverythingforever.Moments that,WillowBriarsknewbetterthananyone,wereimpossibleto turnbackfrom;momentsthatifyouweren’tverycarefulcould shapetherestofyourlife.
WhichwaswhyshewastryingratherhardnottomurderLucy Palmer.Manywordsandphraseshadbeenusedtodescribe thirty-nine-year-oldWillow,butnotuntilthatverymoment wouldanybodyhaveevercalledhermurderous.
‘Efficient’and‘capable’washowWillowwasoftendescribed byherboss,VictoriaKincade,chiefexecutiveofficerofVictoria KincadeTalentLtd.Also‘invaluable’,‘resourceful’and‘a genuinetreasure’.
‘GoodoldWill’,washowmanyofhercolleaguesreferredto her.Fun,funny,down-to-earthWillowBriars;alwaysupfora goodnightout;says-it-how-it-isWill.AndWillowknewperfectlywellthatifanyofthemwereaskedtodescribeher physically,theywoulddwellonherlovelyskin,beautifulblue eyes,shinyhair,greatsmile,andfantastictasteingorgeous shoes,whichmadeupforherratherlimitedchoiceinfashion.
Heridenticaltwinsister,Holly,whowasexactlytwenty-six minutesyounger,calledWillowherrock,herdarling,hersoul mate,herotherhalf,andWillowcoulduseallofthosewordsto describeHollytoo.Herfour-year-oldtwinnieces,Jo-Joand Jem,calledhercuddlyAuntyPillow,sweetAuntyWilland, nicestofall,bestauntyintheworldAuntyWill,whichwasa complimentwithlimitedrangeasWillowwasalsotheironly aunt,butstill,shelovedit.
Dependingonhermoodhermothercalledhereitherthe Londontwinorthedisappointingone.
Willow’sex-husbandhadstartedoffcallingherdarling,but aftertwoyearsofmarriage,hadendedupdescribingherasa wasteofspace.And,foraverybrieftime,hisdaughter,Chloe, hadnotmindedonelittlebitifpeoplethoughtWillowwasher mum.
WillowBriarswas,andhadbeen,manythingstomany peoplebutsofarneverviolent.NotuntilLucyPalmer, graduatetraineeandthedaughterofafamilyfriendof Victoria,hadjoinedtheagencysixweeksagoandVictoriagave herthedeskoppositeWillowandinstructedWillowtolook afterthebarelytwenty-one-year-old ingénue.Fromthat momenton,toWillow’sgreatsurprise,shediscoveredshe wouldmostcertainlybecapableofboppinganotherhuman beingovertheheadwithabrickandthenfeedingthemintoa woodchipper.
‘...Anyway,Will, you wouldhave died !’LucyinformedWillow withsomeenthusiasm.‘Imean,youwouldnothavebeenableto believeyoureyes.Itwasfullyout,underthetable,righttherein themiddleofNobu! Lol! ’
Andthatwasit;thatwasthethingaboutLucythatbrought
outWillow’shomicidaltendencies.Sheendednearlyevery sentencewiththenonsenseword‘lol’.
AlesserwomanthanWillowwouldhavehatedLucyforher smoothskin,glossyhair,longlegsandinsistenceonsharing everymundanedetailofhervacuouslifewitheveryoneinone hundredandfortycharactersorfewer(‘LucyPalmeriseatinga sandwich,lol.’‘LucyPalmeristhinkingaboutlunch,lol.’‘Lucy Palmerhasgotherperiod,lol.’‘LucyPalmer’sboyfriendgothis dickoutinthemiddleofarestaurant,lol’),butwhatWillow discoveredthatshecouldnotabidewasthatLucyPalmersaid ‘lol’outloudasifitwereaword,asifithadanykindofmeaning, asifitwasactuallyasociallyacceptablesubstituteforlaughing outloud.
‘SoItoldhim,Isaidtohim,ifyoudon’tputthatawayright nowthentherewon’tbeanydesserttonight,ifyouknowwhatI mean,lol.’Forasecond,LucystaredatWillowwhowasdoing herbesttoignoreher.
‘Imeanblowjob,’sheclarified.‘Lol!’ WillowbitherlipandstaredattheExcelspreadsheeton whichshekeptarecordofVictoria’sexpenses,wonderingifthe companyaccountantreallywouldletVictoriaclaimforfour nightsonayachtinCanneswithayoungmaleactor-slashmodel,whotodatehadnotsuccessfullyauditionedevenonce, butwhothenormallyruthlessVictoriakeptonthebooks anyway,becausehewasterriblytalentedinareasthatLucy wouldhavereferredtoas‘dessert’.
‘Entertainingaclient,darling,’Victoriahadrespondedto Willow’sraisedeyebrowwhenshehandedherthereceipt.
‘Don’tyoumeanhewasentertainingyou?’Willhadasked her.
‘Well,somebody’sgotto,’Victoriahadsighed.‘Thereisnot enoughViagraintheworldtogetmyhusbandstandingto attention.’
‘PoorRobert...perhapsifyoutriedbeingnicetohim?’ Willowhadbeenlivingdangerouslythatday.
‘Darling,youknowperfectlywellImarriedRobertforhis moneyandtheSuffolkhouse.Bythetimeonegetstoone’sthird husbandbeingniceisdefinitelynotontheagenda.’
UnabletoquestionVictoria’sparticularbrandoflogic, Willowhadshruggedandkeyedintheamountunderthecolumn headed‘Entertaining’.Victorialikedheryoungmen,andshe didn’tmindatallpayingforthem,sometimesinkindand sometimeswithcash,butespeciallyonexpenses.Despiteher ownreservationsonthematter,Willowcouldn’thelpbutadmire Victoria’sdeterminationtogetwhatshewantedfromlife,even ifthatmeantorderingayoungloverinexactlythesamewayshe wouldorderfromamenu.Shedidsometimeswonderwhat Victoria’shusbandthoughtofit.
‘Anywayhegotdessert,allright.Inthebackofthecabonthe wayhome!Lol!’
WillowlookedatLucyforalongmoment,hopingthatamere glancewouldbeenoughtoimprintherseniorityandauthority ontheyoungerwomanandshutherup.Itdidnot.
‘Sowhatdidyougetuptolastevening?’Lucyaskedher. ‘Anything?’
‘Oh,youknow,’Willsaidmildly.‘Theusual.’ ‘Takeaway?’Lucyflutteredherlashesinnocently.
‘Orgy.’Willowdidnotglanceupfromherscreenandshe continuedtokeyinfigures.
‘Wow,’Lucysaid,wide-eyed,probablyatthatmomenttrying
toimagineWillowwithheramplethighswrappedaroundsome manormen.‘Lol.’
ThelasttimeWillowhadbeenoutwas,infact,Saturday,ona blinddatewithDaveTurner,afriendofafriendofherbrotherin-law,whohadrecentlymovedtoLondonanddidn’tknow anyone.PrivatelyWillowobjectedtotheassumption,often madebymarriedpeople,thatallsinglepeopleoveracertainage weresodesperateabouttheirmutualfailuretofindalifepartner soclosetoimminentdeaththattheybecameinstantlycompatible,butstillshehadagreed,becausefranklyshehadnothing elseon,andbesides,Hollywasonlytryingtobenice.And whateverelseshemightgetwrong,Willowtriedherbestnotto lethersisterdownbecauseHollycaredaboutpeople.She worriedaboutthem,evenpeopleshedidn’tknow,anditmade Willowfeellikeabetterpersontodothingstopleaseher,partly becauseshe’ddoanythingforHolly,butalsobecauseit sometimesfeltlikeHollywasherlivingbreathingconscience. Hollywasthegoodtwin,theirmothersaidsooftenenough.
DaveTurnerturnedouttobefartoogood-lookingtobea seriousprospect,thesortofmanwho,inayearortwo,would endupwithawomantenorfifteenyearsyoungerthanWillow, whowouldgiggleathisjokes,ratherthanraiseasardonic eyebrow.Nowhewasaconfidentbachelor,amanabouttown, whowasnotinneedofafriendatall.Willowrealisedrather belatedlythatHollywasactuallytryingtoexpandherown socialhorizons.ItwassoonobviousthatDaveTurnerwasnot hopingforanythingserious.Hehadthelookofamanwho wouldsoongettiredofalltheeffortofsmalltalk,finda wife,putonfiveinchesroundhismiddleandspendtherest ofhislifetryingtogetthemoff.He’dbeenpoliteenoughto
flirtwithWillow,though,andhe’dseemedinterestedinher stories.
Astheeveningworeon,andafterseveralglassesofwine,his gazehadbeguntostraytohercleavageandhissentenceswere punctuatedwithmucharmandhandtouching.Willowsensed heexpectedsomesortofpay-offforthefourginandtonicshe hadboughther.Sotheyhadpartedcompanyafterseveral minutesoffeveredgrapplingbehindthewheeliebinsinthepub carpark.DaveofferedtowalkWillowhome,butshehad declinedbecause,evendrunkasshewas,shefoundtheprospect ofanawkwardandembarrassingSundaymorning,politelies andemptynumberexchangesunbearable.
Willowlikedtobewanted,shelikedtofeelaman’sdesirefor her,butsheknew–hadknownforalongtime,evenbeforeher ill-fatedmarriage–thatshecouldneverbeinarelationship.She justdidn’thavewhatittooktomakeanotherpersonhappy.
‘Oh, lol !’Lucysaidtoherself,readingsomethingonTwitter, nodoubt,promptingWillowtogetupandpretendtogotothe loo,justincasetheurgetostapleLucytothedeskandholepunchhercarotidarterycametoanything.
‘Will,darling?’Victoriahungoutofherofficedoor,likea glamorousNosferaturisingfromhercoffin,asWillpassed.‘Uno momento, s’ilvousplaît.’Shewasneveronetoshyawayfromboth misusingandmixingthelanguagesofEurope.
‘Marvellous,’Victoriasaid,asshegesturedforWilltotakea seat.
Victoria’sDickensiangothicoffice–thegiantantiquedark oakdesk,scarletvelvetcurtains,brassdesklamp,and,hanging onthewall,anoilpaintingofVictoriawithbothacleavageand abluesilkgown,bothofwhichcamestraightfromtheartist’s
imagination–seemedalittleincongruousinthemodernoffice building.Victorialikedit,however;shesaiditgaveherauthenticity.Willowhadneverreallybeensurewhatherbossmeantby that,butneitherwasshereallysureexactlyhowoldVictoria was.Herfacewasheldinpermanentsuspendedanimation somewhereinherlateforties.Perhapsshe’dhadthatdesksince new.
‘Super,darling.Lovethose.’VictorianoddedatWillow’s heeledmules,whichpeepedoutfrombelowherwide-legged trousers.OnceWillowhadjokedthatshealwaysworehighheels sothatshewastherightheightforherweight,andeveryonehad laughedandrolledtheireyes,andsaidthingslike,‘Oh,Willow, you are funny.’
ButWillowhadonlybeenhalfjoking.Shoesweretheone fashionitemthatalwaysfittedhernomatterwhatherwaistline wasdoing.Herfeetwerelongandslender.Shecouldwalkinto anyshoestoreinanycity,andalthoughthestaffmightlookat heraskance,theywouldnotdiscreetlyorpolitelytellherthat theydidnotsellplus-sizeclothing.Shewouldsplashoutonthe kindofshoesthatsetoffasensibleskirt;thatwouldsaytoany observer,‘Iamnotfrumpy,Iamnotpastmypeak,Iamnotjust fat.Look,Ihavefantasticshoesthatmakemeinteresting, fashionableandshowyouthatthereisanothersidetome.’
‘WhatcanIdoforyou?’WillowaskedVictoria,whowas tappingherfingerthoughtfullyonherdesk.
‘Will,darling,Ineedyoutogetmesomethingreallymarvellous.Youknow,special,exotic...reallyrareandexpensive, OK?’
WillenjoyedworkingforVictoria–everydaypresenteda differentchallenge–butshedidsometimeshavetheknackof
talkingentirelyinadjectiveswithouteveractuallysaying anything.
‘Canwenarrowthatdownabit?’Willowasked.‘Whenyou saymarvellous,exotic,expensiveandrare,areyouaskingmeto ringupthatescortserviceagain?’
‘No...nodarling,although...No,notimeforsextoday.’ Whatmighthavebeendisappointmentpassedfleetinglyacross Victoria’smostlyfrozenface.‘WhatI mean is,youknow,somethingdelightful,sumptuous–anexplosionofdelightinyour mouth .. .’
BrieflyWillowthoughtofLucyandherdessert.
‘Chocolates,darling, chocolates!Weneedsomereallytop-notch wonderful chocolat forthisafternoon.IndiaTorranceiscoming in,andthepoorlittlelambneedsalotofcheeringup. Apparentlyshe’seversofondofchocolate,althoughyou wouldn’tknowittolookather,thankGod;Ican’tmakemoney fromaporker.’VictoriaeyedWillow,whoseaffectionfor confectionwasburgeoningalltooapparentlybehindher strainingbuttons.‘NormallyI’dsaysomethingcomplimentary tomakeupforthefactthatyou’refat,butIhaven’tgottimefor socialempathytoday.Wehaveonlyabriefperiodofcalmbefore allkindsofshitstartstohitthefan.It’s most inconvenient.’
‘Whatsortofshit?’Willowaskedassheclosedtheofficedoor behindherandsatdown,pullinghershirtoverherwaistband, andfoldingherhandsoverherstomach.‘Isn’tIndiasupposedto beinCornwallinawigandsomestays,piningafteramanshe cannevermarry?’
IndiaTorrance,twenty-something,hadbeenarelative unknownuntilshe’dwonanOlivierAwardforbestnewcomer atthetenderageofeighteen,havingtakenfirstStratfordand
thentheWestEndbystorm.Inthefollowingfouryearsshehad madeafilmayearthatwasbothcriticallyandcommercially acclaimedandhadbecomeVictoria’sfavouritecashcow. Ethereal,beautiful,upperclassbutdowntoearth,Indiawasin demandallovertheworld,andVictoriawasonthevergeof agreeingastringofendorsementsforher,includingperfume,a make-uprange,abohoclothinglinethatIndiawouldtakecredit fordesigning,andallthiswhileshewasintheprocessofmaking herfifthfeaturefilm,aBritishcostumedramathathad, accordingtoVictoria,Oscarwrittenalloverit.
‘Yes,shefuckingis,’Victoriasaidmildly.‘That’swhatshe’s supposedtobedoing,butshehas...transgressed,darling. .. beenateensybitofahiccupwithmyplansforher,andalittle bitof“housekeeping”willberequired.’
‘Housekeeping?’Willow’seyeswidened.ThatwasVictoria’s codewordforcoveringupareallymassivescandalandturning ittoherclient’sadvantageagainstalltheodds.Itwaswhat Victoriawasfamousfor,andmostofthereasonshewasso successful.
‘What’sshedone?’
‘It’smorelikewhatshehasn’tdone.’Victoriapaused, stabbingthenibofthefountainpenshelikedtouseintothe blottingpad,whichWillowwasprettysurewasatthatmoment asubstituteforIndia’slovelyface.‘Anyway,she’scominginand I’mcommittedtotreatingherwithkidgloves,etcetera,soI thinkwe’llstartwithsomelovelychoccies,somethingthat showswereallycareabouther,blah,blah,blah–OK?’
‘Chocolate,OK,ifyousayso.’Willowstartedtogetup,but Victoriastilledherwiththeflatofherhand.
‘Willow,thereissomethingelse...somethingalittlebit
abovethecallofdutythatIneedtoaskyou,andwhenIsayask, Imeantell.’Victoria’sbrowsfurrowedaboutasmuchasthe Botoxwouldallow,alwaysanominoussign.
Willowwaited,patientlyconfident,afterfiveyearswith Victoria,thatherbosswouldcometothepointeventually.
‘Ifthishadhappenednextyearitwouldn’thavemattered, butshe’sjuststartingtogetinherstride.Nowisthecrucial time,thetimewhenshe’sreallyvaluable.I’mthiscloseto makingme– her –someseriousmoney,andthisbusiness...’ Victoriathumpedherdeskwithherfist,makingWillowstart backinherchair.‘Honestly,Idon’tmeantosoundharsh,but thesillythick-headedlittlebitch,you’dhavethoughtthatthe amountofmoneyherparentsspentoneducatingherwould havemeantshehadabitmoresensethantheaveragefuckwit onthestreet.’
‘Youdon’tsoundharshatall,’Willowtoldhermildly.
‘She’sfuckedup,Willow.She’sbeenhavinganaffairwith HughCramner.They’vebeenscrewingand,nowit’sallcome out,he’sdroppedherlikealeadballoonandrunbacktohiswife claiminghewasseducedbyawhore.’
‘HughCramner!’Willowgasped.HughCramner,acting legend,histwenty-six-yearmarriagetohisadorablewifeoften laudedasanexampleofhowtobemarried.Anadoringfatherof four,hewasroutinelyreferredtoas‘anationaltreasure’and,it waswidelyrumoured,onlyafewshortmonthsawayfrombeing awardedaknighthoodintheNewYearHonoursList.Willow feltqueasy.‘Buthe’soldenoughtobeherfather,hepractically is...OhmyGod,doesn’theplayherfatherinthisfilm?’
‘Yes,darling.’Victoria’sfacewasimmobile,whichwasthe nearestsheevergottodespair.‘Quite.Indiaisabsolutely
distraught,asyoucanimagine,heartbroken,devastated,allthe miserywords.Buttheworstofitisthatthepressareaboutto blowthestorywideopen.They’vegotphotoswithmorethana touchofnudityandsomephonerecordings–sextalk,thatsort ofthing.Theywanthersideandthey’vegivenusforty-eight hourstoagreetoaninterviewbeforeitgoesnuclear.Ofcourse, I’vetakenheroffset,poppedherintoBlakesHotelforafew days–theyareverydiscreetthere;thatwholethingwithmeand thatboybandwentcompletelyunnoticed–butshewon’teven beabletostaytheretohideoncethestoryisout.’
‘Butifshegivesaninterview,tellshersideofthestory...?’
‘Oh,Will,haveyoulearnednothing,
monpetiteamore
?Of courseI’mnotgoingtolethergiveawayherstoryforfreetothe blastedred-topwhore-mongeringscum.No,I’mgoingto let them thinkthat’swhatwe’lldo,tobuyhersometime,andthen I’mgoingtotellthemtofuckoffandmakeherdisappearuntil, A,theshit’sdieddownand,B,Icanmakesomerealmoney sellingherstorytothekindofmagazinethatpaysbigbucks.’
‘Won’tthatmakethingsabitharderonIndia?’Willowshifted inherseat;sometimesVictoria’sruthlessnessunsettledevenher.
‘Darling,I’mnotheretomakeherlifeeasy,I’mheretomake herfamousandrich.’Victoriashrugged.‘Sowhenthestory breaksonSundayshe’llbesomewherecompletelysafe,where thepresswon’tfindher.’
‘Right,andyouwantmetofindsomewhere,acottage,maybe, inthecountry?Ireland?’Willowaskedher,alreadymentally makingalist.
‘No,darling.’Victoriadidn’tmissabeat.‘Iwantyoutokeep herinyourflat.’
‘Ibegyourpardon?’Willowwantedtobelievethatshehad
misheardbutsheknewVictoriawellenoughtoknowshehad not.
‘Youhaveit,’Victoriasaid.‘Look,darling,Ithoughtand thoughtaboutitfor...well,alongenoughtimetomakea seriousdecision.Youknowwhatthepapsarelike:whenit becomesclearshe’snotgoingtoplayballthey’llhuntherdown. Theywon’tstopuntilthey’vegotthewomanwhoseducedHugh Cramner.’Victoriasquaredupherpaddedshoulders,liftingher chinalittle.‘IknowI’mamonster,butIdocareaboutthe peoplewhomakemealotofmoney,andIndiaisoneofthem. Andthethingis,shecanbeabitfragile.Youknowhowcreative peopleare,allmanicdepressiveandmelodramatic.Indiawent intomonthsofdeclineoverabadreview,soimaginehowshe willdealwithheartbreakandinfamy.Anyway,withherparents inDevon,I’mreally inlocoparentis,andIneedtofindaperson–perhapstheonlypersonwhoIcantrulytrust–tocareforher.’ VictoriapointedatWillow.‘BywhichImeanyou.Soifyou couldjustpopherinyourspareroomforaweekortwoand makesureshedoesn’ttopherselfthatwouldbemarvellous.’
Victoria’ssmilewassomethingtobehold,somethingrather similartothegrimaceofoneofthemummifiedEgyptiansinthe BritishMuseum,deathlyandutterlylackinginwarmth.Willow wouldnothavebeensurprisedifherfacehadactuallycreaked whenshesnappedthesmileoffagainasquicklyasshe’d conjureditup.
‘Victoria,’Willowsaidquietlyandcalmly,standinguptomake herpoint,‘IamnotmovingIndiaTorranceintomyflat.Thisis worsethanwhenyoumademebuydrugsforSimeonBurton. Haveyouanyideawhatit’slikeforamiddle-agedwomanina trousersuittoturnupatanillegaldrugsdenatthreea.m.?’
‘Yes,’Victoriasaidwithsomeconviction.‘Andyouarenot middle-ageduntilyou’refiftythesedays,darling.Everyone knowsthat.Itwasinthe DailyMail:fiftyisthenewforty,which makesmeaboutthirty.’
‘Indonkey’syears,maybe,’Willowmutteredunderher breath.‘You’reputtingmeonsuicidewatchwithaworldfamouswomaninmyWoodGreenflat?Whataboutthatmakes anysense?Whydon’tyoujustrentaflat,orsomething?Gether acarer?’
‘Willow,youknowthesortofpersonIam.’Victoriagestured regally.‘I’mkind.I’makindperson,whichiswhyI’masking you tokeepaneyeonIndia.Youdon’twanttoberesponsibleforthe poorgirlslittingherwrists,doyou?Iwouldn’twantyoutohave thatonyourconscience.’
‘Me!’Willowfumedimpotently.
‘Darling,justdothisforme.Asyourboss–Imean,friend. OK–boss.LookateverythingI’vedoneforyou.I’ve...well, Ipayyouquitewell,considering.You’llhavetheweekendto prepareforher,tidyup,fumigate.Andinashakeofalambkin’s tailIwillhaveturnedthewholesituationaroundtoour advantage,washedupthatbastardHughCramnerforgoodand madeusallalotofmoney.Well,notyou,tobefair,butyou neverknow,perhapsI’llpopabitextrainyourChristmasbonus. Yes?’
Willowdroppedherchinandlookedatthepointedtoesof hershoes.Itwasfairtosaythattherehadbeenplentyofupsand downsinherlife,toputitmildly.But,onthewhole,workingfor VictoriaKincadehadbeenoneoftheups.Yes,Victoriaseemed tothinkthatsheownedWillowbodyandsoul,whichWillow thoughtshemighthavesignedoveralongwithherweekends
andevenings,whensheagreedhercontractinsuspiciouslyred ink.Butstill,Victoriahadbeengoodtoherandshedidn’tmind Willow’sfoibles;sheactivelyseemedtolikethem.Besides,itwas pointlessfightingVictoriaonceshe’dmadehermindup.She wasliketheBlackDeathpersonified:therewasnocureforher.
‘Fine,’Willowrelented.‘Fine.Whateveryousay.I’llgoout andgetchocolate.’
‘Thankyou,darling.’Victoriadidn’tsoundnearlyasgrateful asWillowthoughtsheshould.‘We’lldiscussthedetailsalong withIndiawhenshegetshere.’VictoriatossedWillowacredit card.‘Getyourselfsomewhileyou’reatit.Youknowyouwant to.’
ChapterTwo
Manypeoplewouldbeagooddealmorealarmedandoverwhelmedbytheprospectofunexpectedlyputtingupadumped, internationallyrenownedactressthanWillowBriarswas,butfor Willowitwasalmostasexpectedasitwasunexpected.Ortoput itanotherway,ifsomeonehadtoldheronherwaytoworkthat morningthatshewasabouttobeforcedtocohabitwitha celebritythenshewouldn’thavebeenintheleastbitsurprised. Overthelastfewyears,Willowhadcometorealise,andmostly enjoy,thefactthatworkingforVictoriawasabitlikefollowing awhiterabbitintoWonderlandonadailybasis,whereitwas sensibletoalwaysexpecttheunexpected,andbewaretheRed Queen.Infact,assheswungherbagontohershoulderand headedoutoftheofficesofVictoriaKincadeTalentLtdand ontoGoldenSquaretotaketheshortwalktoLiberty,the imminentarrivalofIndiaTorrancecameprettylowonherlist ofworries.
WillowwasirritatedthatVictoriahadn’tgivenhertimeto think,butthenthatwasVictoria.Shedidn’tliketogiveher peopletimetothinkincasetheytookituponthemselvesto thinkthattheydidn’tlikeherplanforthematallandwantedto changetheirminds.Victoriawasn’tafanofpeoplewhochanged
theirminds.ItwasatraitinherbossthatWillowhadlearnedto adapttoearlyoninhercareerbyceasingtothinkunlessVictoria expresslyaskedherto,whichwasabsolutelyfinebyher. Thinking,dwelling,wonderingwereallactivitiesthatWillow thoughtwereexceptionallyoverrated.
No,itwasnottheprospectofhavingacelebritytostaythat rattledWillow.Afterall,sheworkedinoneoftheworld’sforemosttalentagencies;partofherjobwasregularlybabysitting peoplewhoeitherbyaccident,luckand,veryoccasionally,talent foundthemselvesremovedfromtherestofthepopulationby extremefame.HavingIndiaTorranceslummingitinherflat wouldbenodifferentfromthetimethatVictoriamadehergo onabook-signingtourwithaWAGwho,attheageoftwentyfour,hadjustfinishedthefirstinstalmentofherautobiography. IthadbeenoneofWillow’sjobstoclearthetoiletsofany membersofthepublic,andtomakesuretherewereno offendingsmellslingeringbythetimeherclientarrived.And onceVictoriahadwokenWillowupatfourinthemorningand senthertoChelseainablackcabtowhatcouldonlybe describedasabrotheltopickoutasuitableescortforaveryshy marriedmalefilmactoroverfromHollywoodforafewdays.As Willowrelayedthechosengirl(shehadtobebrunette,curvyand willing)backacrossLondon,shehadbeenobligedtomakeher signaseriesofwatertightconfidentialityagreementsand,as Victoriahadputit,mildlythreatenherastowhatwouldhappen toherifsheeventhoughtaboutkissingandtelling.Willowhad feltsicktothepitofherstomachassheusheredtheyoung womanpastthehotelconciergeandtookheruptotheactor’s room,fightingherdisgustatwhatVictoriahadaskedhertodo.
‘Whydoyoudothis?’she’dfeltcompelledtoaskthegirl,who
couldn’thavebeenmuchmorethantwenty,shiveringina sequinnedshiftdressthatskimmedthetopsofherthighs,as theystoodinthelift.Thegirlhadshruggedasifshedidn’treally know.
‘Themoney’sgood,’she’dtoldWillowwithanabsentsmile. ‘Butdoesn’titmakeyourfleshcrawl?’Willowhadaskedher, fascinated.
‘It’sonlysex,’thegirlhadtoldher.‘It’snobigdeal.And sometimessomethingcoolhappens,likeyougettofuckafilm star.’
‘That’snice,’Willowhadsaid.Shesortofunderstood,and therewasalittlepartofherthatwasjealousofthebravadothe girldisplayed.Perhapsshemeantit.
Butstill,Willowhadfeltnobetterasshestoodontheother sideofthelockeddoor,makingsomefinalarrangementswith thestar’sbodyguardbeforeshefinallywentandfoundbreakfast. Itwasthethought,justthethought,thatthatyounggirlmight notwanttobethere,thatshemightbefrightened,orfeelhelplessorsickthathadmadeWillow,forthebriefestofmoments, thinkofgoingbackthroughthatdoorandrescuingher.Butthen sheheardapealofgirlishlaughter,likethetinkleofglass breaking,andshehadremovedherhandfromthedoorandleft. Noteveryonewantedtoberescued.
WhatreallygaveWillowpause,asshepushedopenthe beautifuloakdoorsandmadeherwayintoLiberty,stopping brieflytoinhalethedeliciousscentofpolishedwood,perfume andchocolate,wastohavesomeoneelse,anotherperson, stayinginherhome.Willowdidnotlikepeople.No,thatwasn’t exactlytrue:shelovedsomepeople,approximatelyfour,ifshe werehonest,althoughshe’donlyopenlyadmittothreeofthose.
Shefeltobligedtostayintouchwithhermother,withwhomshe hadnotgotoninyears,andhadadeeprespectandaffectionfor thelargelyterriblehumanbeingthatwasherboss.Sheenjoyed afriendlyrelationshipwithmostofhercolleagues,wasalways extremelypersonablewithclients,nomatterwhattheirfoibles ortics,andgotonperfectlywellwiththefriendsoftheone friendshehadoutsideofwork.ButonthewholeWillowdidnot likepeople,andsheespeciallydidn’tlikethemtooclosetoher, inherhouse,usingherbathroom,quitepossiblyforcryingand perhapsevenslittingtheirwrists.Theonlypersonshe’dever beenabletolivewithsuccessfullywasHolly,andshe’dalways knownshewouldloseHollyoneday.SinceherdivorceWillow likedtobeherselfinherownhome.Itwasoneofthefewplaces whereshecouldreallyrelax,buyaKFCbargainbucketfor dinnerwithoutanyonejudgingher,eatanentireboxof Maltesersinanevening,sitaboutwithherbuttonsundone,her braslungoverthebackofthesofaand,mostcruciallyofall, breatheout.Andtheninagain,andoutagain.
Evenbreathingwouldn’tbepossibleanymoreonceIndia Torrancewas insitu.Willowwouldhavetobeonhighalertall thetime,keepingIndiahiddenandsane,thelatterataskfor whichWillowwasmostdefinitelyunderqualified.Andifsomethingterribledidhappen,ifthepressdiscoveredIndia,orthe girldidharmherselfinanyway,thenthepersonwhowouldget theblamewouldbeWillow.
FromwhatlittleWillowknewaboutherpersonally,India seemedtobeaniceenoughperson,wellbroughtup,well spoken.Shewascertainlyverybeautiful,inafresh-facedway. Sheneverseemedtoneedevenaspeckofmake-uptogildthose sparklingeyesandlonglightbrownhairthatframedherdelicate
features,althoughthestylistslikedtoglamherupforthered carpetandshetookitwell,anactressplayingthevamp.India wasstillinthatbloomofyouth,thatreignofbeauty,thatwhen youareinyourtwentiesseemslikeyourright,onethatyounever expecttolose.
Pausinginfrontofamirroredwallpunctuatedwithhandbags ofallshapesandcolours,floatingonglassshelves,Willow observedherownface.
Forthelasttwentyyears,perhapsmore,Willowhadbeen allowingherselftogrowsteadilyfatter,addingafewpounds moreeveryyearandneverquitefindingthetimeorthewillto makethenecessarychangesthatcouldeitherhaltorreversethe gradualincreaseinherwaistline,hipsandbottom.Willowmet herowneyes,andregardedthemforamoment,deepblue, almostviolet,witharandomfleckofblackinoneiris.They couldbequitearresting,intense,intoxicating,someonehadonce whisperedinherear.
Everyonealwayssaidshehadlovelyeyes.
AndWillowhadgreathair,shewasagenuineblonde;noneed forhighlightsorglossesorhalfasqueezedlemonforWillow. Herthick,golden,waist-lengthhairfellinsoftcurls.Alwayssilky andsofttothetouch,itwashercrowningglory.Willowhadit styledeverysixweeksbyacelebrityhairdresserwhoowneda high-endsaloninCoventGardenandgaveheramassive discountforsendingstarshisway.He’dtrimtheendswhilst tellingherthatshehadhairanystarwouldenvy.
Herskinwasradiant,softandsmoothwithoutasingle blemish.Evenattheageofthirty-nine,evenafterahorrible divorce,evenaftereverything,shestilllookedagoodtenyears youngerthanshewas.Willowwouldroutinelygetaskedhowshe
diditandshewouldreply,itwasinthegenes,althoughonce,at sometortuousfamilyoccasion,oneofhermother’sfriendshad toldherthatbiggirlsalwayshavegreatskin.
‘It’sthefat,yousee.Stopsyourfacefallingin,’she’dtoldher asifsheweredeliveringexcellentnews.
‘Fuckit,I’mhavinganotherpieceofcakethen,’Willowhad said,enjoyingtheshockhercasuallydroppedprofanityhadhad ononeofMother’sWIset.
‘Thefat’–asifitwasn’tpartofher,asifitwereaseparate entityallofitsownthatshecouldsomehowabsent-mindedly lose,orshedlikeabutterflyshruggingoffacocoon.Butthat wasn’tgoingtohappen.Thefatwasmorethanpartofher. SometimesWillowfeltlikeit was her,allofher,marbling throughoutherwholebeing,notjustherbody,buthermind,her heartandperhapsevenhersoul.Perhapsshehadafatsoul.
Evenso,Willowcouldneverblameherweightonhergenes orhermetabolismorbigbonesoranyotherexcuse.Herweight wasallherowndoing.Afactshewascertainofbecauseshehad anotherreflection,onemuchcruellerthananymirrorshestood infrontofcouldeverreturn.Shehadherownidenticaltwinto lookat,herveryowngeneticclone,toshowinglorious Technicolorexactlywhatcouldhavebeenifonlyshehadbeen betteratsayingno.
Hollywasalmostherexactdouble,withtheverysameviolet eyes,includingthedarkfleck,honey-goldenhairandwonderful skin.Thetwinswerethesameineveryrespectexceptone.Holly wasahealthysizeeightandWillowwasalargesizeeighteen. WheneverWillowlookedatherbeautifulsister,whomsheloved morethananyonealive,andwhomsheknewlovedherback equally,shehadtoconfrontoneachandeveryoccasionwhat
shemighthavelookedlike,whatshemightlivelike,ifonlyshe couldfindwhatevermagicingredientitwasthatwouldmakeher stopeatingmuchmorethansheneededtoeverysingleday.
Willowstaredatthewomanwhowasstaringbackatherfrom behindatangerineMulberrybag,herroundedface,thegentle pouchofadoublechinthatbillowedsoftlybeneathherjaw,the buttonsofhershirtthatstrainedagainstthepressureofflesh buildingbehindthem,andthesurgeoffatthatblossomedover thewaistbandofherwide-leggedtrousers.Shecouldremember exactlythelastdaythatsheandHollyhadlookedidentical.
Ithadbeenonthedayofherstepfather’sfuneralin Christchurch.He’dbeendiagnosedwithprostatecancerten monthsbefore,andsuccumbedtohisshortillness,asthenotice inthepapersaid,athomeandatpeacewithhislovingwifeand dotingstepdaughters.Thetwinshadneverknowntheirreal fatherandWillow’srecollectionoflifebeforeIanshoneinher memorylikepolishedsilver,despitethehardshipsthey’dfaced. Backthenitalwaysseemedtobesummer,andsheremembered beingtakenoutforpicnicsonaschoolnight,becausethe cupboardwasbareandthebakersonthecornersoldsandwiches athalfpriceattheendoftheday.They’dclimbthesideof thesteephillonawindyday,papernapkinssailingawayonthe breeze,andWillowandHolly,handslinked,wouldrolldownthe slope,laughingandlaughingastheworldspunoutofcontrolall aroundthem,secureintheknowledgetheywouldalwayshave eachother.
ThentheirmothermetIan,MrSinclair,thelocalbank manger.ImogeneBriarshadmadehergirlswaitforherwhile shewentinforherinterview,carefultopointoutherneedy charges,drummingtheirworn-downheelsonthemetalchair
legsinunison,asshedisappearedintohisoffice.She’dgonein toextendheroverdraftandcameoutwithaninvitationto dinner.Afterawhirlwindromance,duringwhichWillow rememberedhermotherconstantlysmiling,theyweremarried. InsideayearIanhadbroughteverythingintotheirlivesthathad beenmissingbefore:stability,order,security.Thereweren’t picnicsonaschoolnightanymore,oreveningsspentrolling downhillsuntilafteritgotdark.Butneitherweretherewinters whenthetipsoftheirfingerswentbluebecausethepowerhad beencutoff,ortheyhadbeansontoastforteathethirdnightin arow.FromtheageofeightWillowandHollygainedtheclosest theyhadeverhadtoafather,butitneveroccurredtoWillow untiltheyburiedhim,howmuchshelovedhim.Andwhenshe realisedthatwastrue,theonlythingshecouldthinkoftodowas eat.
OnthedayofIan’sfuneralWillow’smotherhadbeen inconsolable,retiringtobedwithalargeginandValium,before theguestshadleftthewake.Holly,turnedoutsoneatlyina blackdresswithawhitecollar,haddoneherbesttostepinto theirmother’sshoes,andWillow,bereftandfeelingasudden emptycrateropeninsideher,hadsatquitealoneatthekitchen tableandeatensixtyready-cookedcocktailsausagesstraightout ofthepacket,oneaftertheotherwithoutstopping.Later,after everyonehadgoneandHollyhadbeenupstairstochecktheir mumwasstillbreathing,shehadcomedownandfoundWillow stillsittinginthekitchen.
‘She’snevergoingtogetoverthis,’Hollyhadsaid,takingout ofthefridgeachocolatecakethataneighbourhadbakedand puttingitonthetable.‘We’regoingtohavetolookafterher now.’
‘Iknow,’Willowreplied.‘Well,we’realmostfifteennow, anyway.’
‘Justthethreeofusagain,’Hollyhadsaid,hereyesmeeting Willow’s,fullofapprehension.
‘Justthethreeofus,yes.’Willowrememberedfeelinglikethe gulfinsidehermustreachthroughhertoesandintothegutsof theearth,theprospectoflifewithoutIanhadsoterrifiedher.
Fromthatdayonshehaddriftedeverfurtherfromthelifeher identicaltwinlived.WhenHolly,sizeeight,wenttouniversity, Willow,sizeten,movedintoabedsitoverachipshopand startedatatempingagency,movingfromjobtojob,quitehappy nevertosettleanywhere.WhenHolly,sizeeight,startedasa graduatetraineeforafashionhouseintheWestEnd,Willow, sizetwelve,automaticallywentalongasrequisiteflatmateand startedworkingasadentist’sreceptionist.Forfouryearsthetwo ofthemlivedtogether;aperfect,happyperiodinWillow’slife thatalwaysseemedtobefulloffun.Hollyandherboyfriend, Graham,werethesensibleonesandWillow,curvierthanher sister,flirtyandsexy,wasmuchindemand,datinganendless streamofmen,neverreallyabletosettleonone.Thatallended whenHolly,twenty-fiveandsizeeight,marriedGray,with Willow,sizefourteen,standingatthealtarinabridesmaid’s dressthathadbeendyedtomatchhereyes.
ThefollowingyearswerealmostfeaturelessinWillow’s memory.Holly,sizeeight,hadworkedherwayupinthefashion industry,travelledwithGraywhenevershecould,gradually spendingmoreandmoretimevisitingtheirmotherand spendinglesstimewithWillow,whoseemedtobetrappedina timewarp,whileeveryoneelse’slifemovedon.Willow ricochetedfromoneill-fatedliaisontoanother,someofthem
lastingformonths,othersonlyhours,driftingfromjobtojob thatdidnothingmoreforherthanmakeendsmeet,andinall thattimefindingnooneornothingthatdidanythingtogive sustenancetothatconstantgnawinghunger.
Then,attheageofthirty-two,Willow,sizesixteen,founda newjobworkingforawinemerchantunderneaththearchesin LondonBridge.Ittookherentirelybysurprisetodiscoverhow drawnshewastoSamWainwright,hernewboss,amanalittle olderthanshe,whohadlosthiswifeafewyearsearlierandwas nowbringinguphisseven-year-oldalone.Willowwasnot certainwhethershe’dlovedhim,orhisstory,orhisdaughterat first,butlovehimshedid,andithadseemedasifherlifewas finallyresolvingitselfwhenayearaftershestartedworkingfor himheproposed.Holly,sizeeight,andChloe,agedeight,had beenherbridesmaids.
Whichwaswhyeveryonewassoupsetwhen,atexactlythe sametimeasHolly,sizetenfortwomonths,thensizeeight again,gavebirthtohertwins,Willow,sizesixteen,lefther husbandandChloe,nevertoreturn.
Holly,sizeeight,movedbacktoChristchurchtobeneartheir mother,andWillow,vergingonasizeeighteen,gotofferedajob byVictoriaKincaid,who’dinterviewedheralongwithtenother applicants,tellingWillowshe’dgotthejobonthespotbecause shewastheonlyonetherewholookedlikeshewouldn’thavea nervousbreakdownafterfiveminutesinVictoria’scompany. Herweightgainhadslowed,butstillitcreptup,andWillow knewthat,ifnotthisyear,thenthenext,she’dbelookingatthe nextdresssizeup.
Now,brushingthethoughtaside,Willowpickedupseveral packetsofherfavouritehandmade‘LicktheSpoon’chocolates
andreachedintoherpocketasherphonevibrated.Thatwould beVictoria,probablyaskinghertostockuponwigsandvarious otherdisguisesforIndia.
‘Youwerethinkingaboutme,’Hollysaidintoherear.‘Nice thoughts.ThatmademewonderhowitwentwithDave.I’ve beenholdingoffasking,hopingyou’dvolunteerthedetails.’
Willowsmiled.Hollywasadeptatplayinguptothepsychic twinthing,althoughhalfthetimeshewouldjusthazardaguess aboutwhathersisterwasdoingorthinking,andmostlyberight becausesheknewWillowsowell.Sometimes,though,thetwo wouldgetasenseofhowtheotheronewasfeeling,asifanother mirroredpresencewaspassingthrough.Itwasn’tanexact science,though;itcouldneverbepredictedanditdidn’talways comeattherighttime.
‘Ah,Dave,’Willowsaid,ratherapologetically.
‘Whatdoyoumean,“Ah,Dave”?He’sgorgeous!’ WillowthoughtofDave’shalf-heartedkissesandalmost mechanicalcaresses.
‘No,sorry.He’snotforme.AndIamnottheoneforhim, either.’
‘Oh,Willow.’Hollysoundedquitecross.‘Ihadhighhopes forDave,too.’
‘Sorry,sis.’WillowpausedbyadisplayofLiberty-printcoverednotebooks,pickingoneuptoflickthroughtheblank pages.Sinceshe’dbeenquitealittlegirltherehadalwaysbeen somethingabouttheneatlyboundgilt-edgedpotentialthat comfortedher.Otherlittlegirlshadteddybears,orage-old scrapsofmaterialtocuddleupto.Itwasablanknotebookthat Willowalwayskeptunderherpillow.Theworld’smostboring secretdiary,Hollyalwayssaid.ButWillowknewwhatshewould
writeinit,ifshecould,soshedidn’thavetospoilthebeautiful purewhitepageswithwords.Pickingupaparticularlylavish pink,purpleandgoldaffair,shedecidedtoaddittoher purchases,andputitcarefullyinherdrawerfullofempty notebooks.
‘Well,anyway,I’vegottogo,youungratefulwretch,’Holly said,heraffectionatetonebelyingherwords.‘Jemseemstohave tapedJo-Jo’shairtotheundersideofthetable–butcallmelater totellmeaboutyourbigsecret.’
‘OK,thatwasaguess,’Willowsaid,andhersisterhungup withoutagoodbye.
Willowcaughtherbreathinsurpriseasthephonerangagain andshesawDanielFayre’snameonherscreen.Daniel,the fourthpersonshewouldnotopenlyadmittoloving.
‘Whatnow?’sheaskedasshetookthecall,studiouslycareful tobeflippantandbrusque,asalways.
‘Nice,’Daniellaughed.‘Where’sthehello,where’sthehow areyou,Dan,what’sup,it’sbeenafewdays?Didyougetthat assignmentinPanama?Noneofthat,then?’
‘Dan,youandIbothknowyouonlyphonemewhenyou wantsomething.Whatdoyouwant?’
‘Iwantyou!’Danielteasedher,withoutknowinghow,just byutteringthosewordseveninjest,hemadeWillow’sheart ache.
DanielFayre:photographerandWillow’sformernext-door neighbour,backwhenshehadbeenmarried.Originallyfrom FortWorth,Texas,he’dcometotheUKinhistwentiesand, upondiscoveringthatBritishwomencouldnevergetenoughof hisaccent,neverwentbackandneverlosthisaccent.Willow hadfirstgottalkingtohimwhenshe’dfoundhimonthesteps
outsidehisground-floorflat,staringbleaklyatasmashedbottle ofginthathadprovedtooweightyfortheflimsyplasticbagit wasin.
‘Careful,’Willowhadsaidasshewatchedhimgingerlypickup theshardsofglass.‘Youmighthurtyourself.’
‘Imightkillmyself,’he’dsaid,directingaheart-meltingsmile ather.‘Ihadbeenplanningtodrinkmyselftodeath,butthat wasmylastten-poundnote.’HisAmericanaccentpronouncing thosealienwordshadcharmedherinstantlyand,takingpityon him,Willowwenttofetchherdustpanandbrush,before invitingDaninforaglassofwine.Whenshetoldhimher husbandimportedwineforalivinghedeclaredonthespotthat shewashisnewbestfriend,andsomehowthatflippant remarkhadcometrue.WhenWillowwaslostinthedepthsof divorce,Danielhadtakenituponhimselftolookafterher. He’dgivenheracouchtosleepon,thenightitallbrokedown, foundheraplacetoliveafterwardsandgenerallypatchedher upandgotherbackonherfeet,evenbringingheraseriesof TVdinnerseverynightforamonthaftershe’dmovedintoher newflat,gettingthembothsodrunkthatthey’dpassoutevery nightonthesofa,headslollingoneachother’sshoulderin snoringabandon.Willowwasn’tsureexactlywhen,duringallof that,shehaddecidedshelovedDaniel,butshewascertainthat itwasafutilelongingthatwouldtormentherforaslongasit endured,whichwouldquitepossiblybeforever.Danielloved her,inhisway,andwithsteadfastloyalty.Itwasjustnotatallin thesamewaythatshelovedhim,whichwashopelessly, pointlessly.
‘You’resighing–whyareyousighing?’Daniel’svoiceinterruptedhertrainofthought.
‘I’mpicturingyounaked,’Willowtoldhim.
‘Thenyoushouldbelaughing!’Danielchuckled.‘I’mgetting middle-aged,Will.I’vegotapaunch,anactualpaunch,andI thinkImightbegoingbald.Willyoulookatthetopofmyhead forme,becauseI’vethedistinctfeelingthatI’mgettingalot moresunuptherethanIusedto.’
‘Youwantmetolookatthetopofyourhead?’Willowcaught herselfsmilinginthemirrorasshetoyedwiththeribbonaround theboxofchocolatesshe’dpickedup.
‘No,Iwantyoutocometodinnertomorrownightand perhapsbetweencourseslookatthetopofmyhead,youknow, iftheconversationisrunningalittledry.’
‘Dinner?’Willowwasdelighted.Danielhadrecentlystarted seeingsomeoneregularlyenoughforhertobeconsidereda girlfriend.Whichmeanthedidn’trequireWillow’scompanyfor watchingfilms,oreatingoutordrinkingfartoomuchonaweek night,andWillowhadmissedhim.Perhapsthisinvitationmeant thatthisone,aleggymodelhe’dmetonashootinSpain,had gonethewayoftheothersandhe’dalreadytiredofher.Willow smiled;anightoutbeforeIndiamovedinwasjustwhatshe needed.
‘I’mnotsure...’Willowpretendedtoplayhardtoget, althoughbothofthemknewitwasartifice.
‘Willow,Ineedyou.I’mworkingonsomethingbrilliant–real art,foronce,insteadofprostitutingmyselfandmycamera.But Ineedyourthoughts.YouknowIcan’tmakeanydecisionsuntil I’vetalkedtoyou.’
Willowknewshewasbeingshamelesslymanipulated,butstill sheglowed,preeningunderthecaressofhisvoice.Ithadbeen toolongsinceshe’dspenttimewithDaniel,talkingnonsense
aboutnothingserious,lyingonthedeckingofhisroofgarden, gazingatthestars.
‘Don’tdenyme,baby,’Danielcomplained.‘Please,Will,I needyou.’
‘Doyou?’Willowaskedhimsoftly,eachoneofherheartstringsexpertlytugged.‘IsupposeI might beabletomakeit...’ Willowclosedhereyesforasecond.Shewasgoingatleastto pretendforafewsecondslonger;shelikedthefeelingofDaniel wantingher.
‘ThinkaboutallofthetimesI’vebeenthereforyou.Likethat timeIcameandpickedyouupatthreeinthemorningfromthat Australianbarman’sflatinEarlsCourt.’
‘Iknow.’Willwinced,rememberinghowshehaddrunkenly thrownherselfatthemuchyoungerbarman,untilhe’d relented,takingherbacktoaone-bedroomflathesharedwith sixothersinEarlsCourt.Soberingupmid-mistake,Willow hadtoldhimshewaspoppingtotheloo,quicklydressedand sneakedoutoftheflatwithoutsayinggoodbye,stumblinginto theearlyhoursofawetOctobermorning.Danielhadcometo fetchher.Eventhoughitwaslate,andhewasdrunkandthere hadbeenagirlinhisbed,hehadcome.Alotofpeople,Holly especially,saidthatDanielFayrewasnogoodforher,but, asidefromhersister,hewastheonlypersoninthewhole worldwhowouldalwayscome.
‘I’lltry,Ican’tsaymorethanthat,’Willowtoldhim,already knowingthatshe’dprobablyleaveIndiaTorrancealonewitha cut-throatrazorandahotbathratherthanmissspendingtime withhim.
‘Great.Kayla–yourememberKayla,right?–she’llbe pleasedtoseeyou.Ah,andSeriousJamesiscoming,he’llbe very
pleasedtoseeyou.’SeriousJameswasDaniel’sotherunlikely bestfriend,anarchetypalaccountantwhodreamedofbeinga stand-upcomedian.Hepersistedinthisdelusiondespitesofar onlytestinghistalentfortiminginafewflea-riddenpubshere andthere.Heseemedniceenough,withhispermanentlytousled blondhair,whichheworealittlelongerthanyoumightexpect foranaccountant,andhisgreyish-greeneyes,whichcrinkled whenhesmiled,werequiteattractive;mightevenbeconsidered veryattractiveifhewasn’tstandingnexttoDanielFayre.The troublewasthatwheneverWillowmethim,hewasalways standingnexttoDaniel,andwheneverhemether–whichwas gettingtobequitefrequentlyrecently–heseemedtolosethe abilitytoconverseatall.Danielwasenormouslyfondofhisonly malefriend,perhapsbecauseofhisgeekyoffbeatawkwardness, andheparticularlydelightedinteasingWillowaboutthefact thatSeriousJamesfoundherutterlybeguiling.Yetsomehowthe moreDanieltoldheraboutJameswaxinglyricalabouther,the lessshelikedhim.Wheremanysinglewomenofacertainage wouldfindhisattentionsverypleasing,ifnotsomethingofa relief,itwashispoorlyclosetedadorationforherthatput Willowoff.Shefollowedtheperverselogicthattheremustbe somethingwrongwithsomeonewhocouldlike her quitethat much.
‘Bringsomeone,ifyoulike.Hey,bringthathotsluttyoneyou hatefromwork.ThatwillkeepKaylaonhertoes.Thesexis alwaysbetterwhenshe’sreallyinsecure.’
Willowtuggedabsentlyattheribbonontheboxof chocolates,barelynoticingitgivewayasshefoughtthedisappointmentofarejectionshehadn’tevenknownshewasinline for.Shecouldstillsayno,ofcourse,callhimlaterwithapologies.
Buttopassupthechancetospendawholeeveninginthe companyofDaniel,makingjokeswithhimthathisgirlfriend wouldn’tunderstand,laughingaboutSeriousJamesbehindhis back,drinkingsomuchthateverynerveendingwaslulledintoa falsesenseofsecurity,washardtodo,evenifeverymomentof pleasurewouldbesimultaneouslyblendedwithpain.
‘IfIlosemyjoboverthisyou’llhavetomarryme,you understandthat,don’tyou?’Willowheardthewistfuledgetoher voicetoolate,knowingDanielhadheardittoo.
‘Babe,youaretheonlywomanIwouldevermarry,youknow that,don’tyou?’hetoldherwithpractisedsincerity.
‘Soyousay,’Willowsaidwithamouthfulofchocolate,which gaveherpause.Asshelookeddownattheboxofchocolates,its lidaskew,itbecameapparentthatoneofthemhadalready founditswayintohermouth.Infact,oncloserinspection,it seemedthatshehadfinishedoffthreeduringtheconversation andhadbarelyevennoticed.
‘Ciao,bello,’Willowsighed,poppingthelasttwochocolates intohermouthasDanielhungup.Turninground,shefound herselfconfrontedbythewatchfulshopassistant.
‘Areyouplanningonpayingforthose?’thewomanasked, withmorethanahintofaccusation.
‘Yes,’Willowsaid.‘AndI’dbettertakeanothercoupleof boxestoo,please.’
‘Ofcourse,madam,’thewomansaidasshebustledoffto retrievemorechocolates,thelookonherfacegivingaway exactlywhatshethoughtofWillow.
Willowwincedinternally,brushingherlonghairoffherface andshakinghershouldersbrieflyasifshecouldshakeoffthe darknessthatsometimesengulfedher.Whyhadshepicked