‘You two close?’
Madeleine frowned, unsure of what to say. She settled for a non-committal response. ‘Yes, she’s great fun.’ She nearly added, ‘Don’t you think?’ and then thought better of it. Without knowing the depths of Rose and Lysander’s relationship, or the reason for Rose’s reaction to his arrival the previous evening, she decided it would be better to skate along the surface. She should keep her nose out, wait for Rose to fill in the blanks.
His nod was dismissive as he picked up his mug.
Rose stiffened as she heard the knock on her door. ‘Who is it?’ she said.
‘It’s me. I brought tea.’
Rose smiled, slipped from the bed, and unlocked the door. With Madeleine inside the room, she relocked the door and retreated into the warmth of her duvet. Madeleine concentrated on setting the mugs on one of the bedside cabinets. A beat of time passed– it was as if Madeleine were waiting for permission– before she shed her slippers and dressing gown and slid beneath the covers to join her.
‘I’ve missed this,’ she said.
‘It’s only been a few days.’ In truth, Rose had missed it, too. She reached out, brushing a wayward strand of Madeleine’s hair away from her face.
‘Yeah, well, I’m not very good at being patient.’ Madeleine caught hold of her hand and threaded their fingers together. She leaned over and kissed her, the feather-soft warmth of their lips brushing together gone almost before Rose was able to process it, and way too quickly. ‘Have I ever told you how amazing you look first thing in the morning?’
Rose drew back and deliberately changed tack. ‘Thanks for the tea,’ she said.
‘I had an ulterior motive,’ Madeleine said, passing her one of the mugs. ‘It’s not everyone who gets the chance to see what the face of Ralph Lauren looks like first thing in the morning.’ Glancing across, a frown flitted between her eyes as the grin slid from her face. ‘Oh, God. Have I put my foot in it?’
Rose studied her for sarcasm, but that wasn’t Madeleine’s style. She sighed. ‘Was it that obvious?’
‘No.’ Madeleine drew the word out as if she wasn’t totally convinced by it. ‘You were upset by his arrival. Obviously. But that could be for loads of reasons.’ She took a sip from her mug. ‘I’m not going to ask. I know I ask questions about everything. All the time.’ Rose grinned. ‘But I’m not going to ask about that. The past is the past. Tell me if you want to, but otherwise I promise I won’t pry.’
As her shoulders dropped, Rose realised how much she wanted to hear Madeleine say that. Lysander shouldn’t have the ability to make her feel like this, not after all this time. They were kids when it started, stupid young kids. Initially, she’d been flattered by his attention. Even back then, when all the other boys were gawky and awkward, he’d been poised and good-looking. No, not just good-looking, he’d been ridiculously handsome. Everyone said so. On top of which there was something else. An aura? His self-confidence? She’d never been able to put her finger on it, but it had propelled him into the spotlight, secured him an exclusive modelling deal with one of the world’s most renowned male outfitters, at the tender age of nineteen.
Perhaps it wasn’t surprising, Rose thought, being the son of one of the most iconic film stars of the last thirty years and his supermodel wife. Second wife. Rose made the clarification. Tania’s mother unceremoniously dumped in favour of Brigitte. Both women pregnant at the same time, Tania just a tiny baby and Lysander no more than a discreet bump when their father dropped the bombshell that he was permanently swapping beds.
When Rose began dating him, in the sixth form, everyone around her was in awe of Lysander– and his family. Rose would still challenge anyone in her situation not to have been swept along by the tide. Even the people in authority at the school, with its supposedly strict rules against students engaging in relationships, seemed to turn a blind eye where Lysander Harrington was concerned.
To this day Rose wasn’t sure why Lysander had singled her out. They knew one another outside school, had been on ski trips together to the lodge a few times, fair enough. But so what? The majority of the girls– and a decent percentage of the boys– at Kittering College would have leaped at the chance to get the kind of attention she’d received from him. So why had he zeroed in on her as if she were a rabbit and he was a hawk? He’d hunted her down. There was no other way to describe it.
She had wondered if it was purely because she was best friends with Tania. Wondered if that made her a perversely attractive proposition. Lysander had always enjoyed taking Tania’s toys, after all. Or maybe it had more to do with his– even then– desire to be seen ticking all the right boxes in the eyes of the fickle world of celebrity. Mixed-race girlfriend. Tick.
Either way, as far as Lysander Harrington had been concerned, it had ended up being nothing more than an early notch in a long line of conquests on his bedpost. Just a stupid teenage fling with a girl who he’d decided didn’t like sex very much. And she’d never verbalised this deepest issue, at that point in her life she didn’t have the confidence to do so– she didn’t have the right words, didn’t have the understanding. Didn’t connect the dots as to why his seduction of her had only ever felt like pressure, something she came to dread, rather than dream about. With hindsight, Rose knew she’d withdrawn further and further into herself, battened down the hatches while she waited for the storm to pass.
It had taken her a long time to move forwards. Longer than she’d wanted to allow herself– probably because her path continued to criss-cross that of Lysander’s. And he had a way of turning on the charm, wheedling his way back into favour. Rose found him difficult to gauge, had decided it was almost impossible to be sure whether he meant anything in a genuine way.
And then there had been the debacle with the dress. Eighteen months previously, Tania had determined to wear a dress designed by one of her art school friends to a First Galaxy premiere– the last Harrington three-line whip she’d been subjected to. The dress was supposed to be a secret– a flourish for the press, followed by a spotlight of publicity for the friend and her fledgling designer business. Somehow the details had been leaked, and by the time Tania was on the red carpet, nobody cared a toss about the dress. Instead, the focus was on Lysander and some outrageous suit he’d chosen for the occasion.
Lysander had asked Rose what Tania was going to wear to that premiere. He’d said he didn’t want to clash with his sister, had made it sound a genuine request, and so Rose had told him. It had ruined the moment for Tania’s designer friend, and Rose had never managed to shake the feeling it had all been her fault. From that day, she’d resolved to keep her mouth shut whenever Lysander was around.
And now, finally, when she felt as though her life was truly beginning to move forwards with Madeleine, here he was again. Dragging her back to a place of insecurity and indecision.
‘However, while I promise not to pry …’ Madeleine’s voice jolted Rose out of her thoughts and she refocused as Madeleine prodded at the side of her head. ‘Holes are being burned up here, so I am going to have to ask a few things.’
‘OK. Go for it.’ Rose grasped her mug, welcoming its warmth against her fingers.
‘Number one is about the Donkey thing.’ Madeleine frowned. ‘Let’s dodge that one for a moment, on account of me not prying. But hot on its heels is the next one. Why the hell does he call her Tits? It’s not even like she’s particularly well endowed in that department. Or have I got the wrong end of the stick?’
Rose nodded, and smiled at Madeleine’s observation, all at the same time. ‘Totally the wrong end. Thing is, she’s really called Titania. Unsurprisingly, she’d already dumped that in favour of Tania by the time I met her. But Lysander insists on reminding her, in his own particular way.’
‘By calling her Tits? Doesn’t he ever call her Tania?’
‘In front of their father, yes. Apart from that, not really.’
‘Nice. And that’s why she wasn’t impressed to see him?’
