She was studying history and politics in the year behind him, although she was one of the older students in her year as she’d taken a couple of years out, ‘because of the band,’ she explained to people, because Eden liked being famous even if being in a failed girl band made her more infamous than famous.
As a girl who’d worked – unpaid – as a chambermaid in her parents’ hotel, Eden viewed rich kids with something akin to loathing. Ralph Tallisker, with his famous friends of the family, his father’s frequent trips to the White House and Number Ten, his skiing – imagine, skiing! – was all the things Eden thought she’d despised. She’d served the wealthy and privately educated in the hotel and she hated them on principle.
Yet she was astonished to find that she didn’t mind any of this at all when it came in the lovely package of Ralph Tallisker. He was handsome yet didn’t seem to know it, clever but not in the slightest bit elitist, friendly to all comers. If he had a euro in his pocket, he’d hand it to a homeless guy and sit down to talk to said homeless guy.
‘Nobody talks to them – it’s as if they’re invisible,’ Ralph said the first time she’d seen him doing it with a young man he’d clearly talked to before.
If Ralph had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, it didn’t show.
‘Unlike all those other “my daddy’s in the government” types, he’s a total ride,’ said her friend, Susie, who was studying arts.
Eden attempted to look shocked at these words, although she’d known Susie so long that it was hard to do so. She and Susie had been to too many parties together when they were at school. But Eden’s reinvention for the failed girl band came in useful in college. She’d long since ditched the torn jeans and the tight tops. The new Eden worked hard in both the college library and the Bray garage where she did late-night shifts to pay her living expenses. Thanks to the band, she had a wardrobe of vintage long skirts that wouldn’t have shocked a Victorian.
‘He seems nice,’ she said to Susie, secretly eyeing Ralph’s sturdy rugby-playing frame, the face with the mobile mouth, the outrageously big eyes with long dark eyelashes like a girl.
‘Nice?’ said Susie. ‘He’s gorgeous. Look at that mouth too … Bet he’s amazing in bed.’
‘Not everything’s about bed,’ said Eden, in Victorian mode. Susie could be so crude.
Susie snorted. ‘Yeah, right.’
Eden decided she ought to stop hanging around with old friends like Susie because if you were going to reinvent yourself, you needed to really cut the ties with the past.
Two weeks later, Ralph noticed her.
Eden, who’d never had to try to get a man to notice her in her life, found she’d been subconsciously looking out for Ralph between lectures. The old Eden would have been on his radar like a shot, but the old Eden wouldn’t have scored a date with him. He’d have bought her a drink, maybe, and been warned off her by his friends. Scions of political families did not hang out with wild girls.
But long-skirted Ms Robicheaux, with her hair French plaited and books clutched to her bosom, was another thing entirely.
Another email pinged in.
Eden groaned until she realised it was spam. Still, most of the others weren’t.
Politics took their toll on every part of her life, she thought, clicking into the first email which was a diatribe from a constituent on dog fouling.
She reached for her cup of tea and as she did so, her eye caught the drawer where she’d hidden the letters. Three now. Typed on what looked like an actual typewriter.
I know what you did, Mrs Tallisker.
Eden had found the third letter in her post at home.
I know what you’ve done.
One insane letter was normal. Two was worrying. Three was time to call the police – or her father-in-law. But she couldn’t. Because it would end her career in an instant. There were different rules for women politicians. Like in everything.
The Platts had had a little boy.
‘Mark Junior!’ said Mark proudly, holding up the baby in a way reminiscent of the birth scene inThe Lion King.
He’d only just been stopped from letting the Afghan hounds in to smell the baby. Indy loved dogs, and these were beautiful ones, but felt they were better outside the field of birth.
Once everything was finished and their notes were written up, Indy and Flo left.
‘I could kill for a cuppa,’ said Flo, finally allowing herself to relax out of her smiling ‘it’s all fine!’ midwife mode, ‘but I had to get out of there.’
Indy grinned. ‘Dog scent and a lot of incense is not a good combo. I can’t join you for tea – I’m racing off to the hotel where my parents are getting married. Myself and my sisters are helping get it ready.’
‘The Sorrento,’ said Flo fondly. ‘My mum remembers it. Lucky you growing up there.’
