Kiss Heaven Goodbye Part 59

She leant in to kiss him, wincing inwardly. She had always regretted treating Philip so badly. He was a good man and a good friend, but she had pushed him aside in favour of her ambition and her feelings for an unsuitable married man. He was still looking good. His hair was peppered with grey at the temples, and his skin looked sun-worn, but at forty-seven he was still the most handsome man at the party.

'I didn't even know you were in the country,' said Sasha. 'The last I heard you were in Hong Kong.'

'I was in Sydney for eight years. I moved back two months ago, escaping the Aussie winter.'

He smiled. It was a warm, genuine smile although there was no reason for him to be so happy to see her. Sasha remembered the final days of their relations.h.i.+p: Philip's marriage proposal, her plan to oust him from the company, his quiet, dignified exit. How could she have been so selfish, so brutal? Looking at him now, she wondered what it was that hadn't worked. Certainly, she could have shown more grace.

'So who are you here with?' asked Philip.

'Just me. I was only popping my head in,' she said. 'I try not to dwell too much on fortieths, with mine being just around the corner.'

'Forty? Try having fifty out there.' He laughed. 'You're lucky I didn't bring my walking stick today.'

'I think you're looking great, Phil,' she said, blus.h.i.+ng slightly and rus.h.i.+ng on to cover her embarra.s.sment.'So tell me everything. What were you doing in Sydney?'

'CFO of a car manufacturing company. Not as s.e.xy as evening dresses.'

'But you always loved cars, didn't you?' She glanced down at his left hand. 'Married? Kids?'

'Both.'

'Great.' She smiled too brightly.

'Well, the marriage is past tense, actually. It didn't quite work out as I'd hoped. Ended rather badly in fact.'

Sasha raised her eyebrows. 'A horror story you wish to share?'

Philip pulled a face. 'I wish it was something original,' he said, 'but it was just plain common-or-garden infidelity. Natalie, my wife, is English. We moved out to Sydney together, had Lily, our little girl. And then Natalie had an affair. End of story, really.'

Sasha touched his arm. 'I'm sorry to hear that.'

He shrugged. 'The day she told me she was leaving me and taking Lily, it was such a blow, I wrote a cheque for half of what we had in the bank and told her to get out.'

'Very dramatic of you,' said Sasha. 'Like an eighties mini-series.'

Philip laughed. 'Turns out it was a big mistake. In Australia, you can't begin divorce proceedings until you've been separated for twelve months, by which time she'd spent all the money I gave her and came after me for another half. I got screwed twice.'

'Gosh, Phil, that's so not like you,' said Sasha. 'At Rivera you watched every pound, s.h.i.+lling and pence.'

'Love makes people do the strangest things.'

She nodded, hating the thought of Philip being hurt so badly again. He deserved better.

'And what about you?' he asked. 'I've watched from afar, of course. I'm proud of what you've done with the company, Sash, but then again, I always knew you'd fly high.'

She snorted. 'Well right now, I'm about to crash and burn.'

'Really?'

Sasha quickly filled him in about a.s.sad's takeover and being forced to leave the company.

'I thought something was wrong. You look worn out.'

If anyone else had said it, Sasha would have felt insulted, but from Philip it had the quiet intimacy of someone who knew her well. She reflected that he probably knew her better than anyone else. That's a tragedy on its own That's a tragedy on its own, she thought.

She looked out beyond the gardens, towards the darkness of the Thames and the twinkling South Bank and the soaring, majestic London Eye on the other side of the river. It was a romantic, inspiring vista.

'Listen, I'll understand if you say no,' said Sasha, 'but could we go out and talk about it?'

He chuckled. 'You want my my advice?' advice?'

She touched his arm again. 'I can't let my company go without a fight, Phil. Besides, I always valued your advice. I just didn't show you how much I appreciated it.'

He looked at her for a moment, then smiled. 'What are you doing tomorrow?'

'Wallowing.' She grinned.

'I have a house in Tetbury. Nothing fancy. But it's quiet. There're horses, fields, long walks. It's the perfect place to convene a council of war.'

'So you'll help me?'

'Sasha, I've never stopped wanting to help you.'

She wanted to hug him, feel his rea.s.suring warmth against her, but instead she just said, 'Thanks.'

He c.h.i.n.ked his champagne gla.s.s against hers. 'I'll pick you up at five o'clock. And be ready for once, OK?'

'Oh I'll be ready,' smiled Sasha.

72

Miles couldn't concentrate. In the Pool Room at New York's Four Seasons restaurant, he should have been in his element, charming the group of j.a.panese bankers opposite him, cutting deals, laying the groundwork for his next attack on another territory ripe for exploitation. But with yesterday's trip to Na.s.sau still weighing heavily on his mind, he could barely order coffee successfully, let alone impress new financial backers. He'd been like this all day so distracted and wound up he'd had to leave the Ash Corp. offices and go to the driving range to work off some of his anger and frustration. How had he allowed this to happen? Why had he sold the island? If he had kept it in the family, no one would have gone anywhere near that b.l.o.o.d.y beach.

His phone was vibrating in his pocket, but he let it ring out: the j.a.panese were always sticklers for politeness. Its angry insistence made him feel under siege. Finally, the j.a.panese group began to leave, citing early flights back to Tokyo. Smiling and bowing, he waved them off, then let out a long breath and headed straight to the bar by the Grill Room and ordered a large gin and tonic, then took a seat in a quiet corner to make a call.

'Michael, you called?' he said.

'Yes, it's probably nothing, but Detective Carlton has been in touch.'

Miles closed his eyes and let his gin slip down his throat.

'Apparently they've spoken to an ex-Angel Cay employee,' continued Michael. 'A chef who worked there in the late eighties, early nineties. He remembered one of the casual staff disappearing 1990, 1991, he thought.'

Miles was determined not to let his anxiety show. 'Hmm, yes. I vaguely remember that too. It was 1990, because I'd just finished at Danehurst. It was some boat boy and he hardly disappeared. He was drinking on the job and bunked off nicking one of our boats before he got fired. d.a.m.n inconvenient it was too. My father had a very important corporate event going on and didn't need the ha.s.sle of disappearing staff.'

Miles was surprised at his own calm manner as he spoke. He certainly would have found this more difficult to say if he had been with his lawyer face to face. That probing look Michael had, like he could see straight through whatever you were saying.

'Well, either way, you're going to have to go back to Na.s.sau,' said Michael.

'But I was only b.l.o.o.d.y there yesterday!' cried Miles.

'We have to give them something, Miles. They want to know if you have any contact details for this boat boy at least.'

'Of course I don't,' snapped Miles. 'I was eighteen years old.'

'Carlton wants to know if there are any records of staff on the island or at the company offices.'

Miles felt his anger flare into red spots of heat on his cheeks. 'Michael, don't bother me with this s.h.i.+t. Sort it out. Pay someone off.'

'Look, Miles, I am trying to get them off our backs,' said Michael with irritation. 'Forgive me if I don't have as many police contacts in Na.s.sau as I do in London or New York.'

The tone of Michael's voice made Miles s.h.i.+ver. Michael Marshall was a top-notch fixer, always happy to roll up his sleeves and get dirty; he never baulked at anything Miles asked, dealing with it with implacable calm and efficiency. In all the years they had worked together, he had never been tart or sarcastic. The fact that he sounded hara.s.sed and anxious made Miles think that the situation was more severe than Michael was letting on. But this was no time for rolling into a ball and giving up.

'Michael, I don't expect you to know every spook on the planet. But I do expect you to get on top of the situation. If you don't have the contacts, get them. Everyone, especially policemen, has their price. Try f.u.c.king harder.'

He slammed twenty dollars on the bar and stormed downstairs, out of the restaurant on the warm midtown night. His driver was waiting for him and took him uptown to his Fifth Avenue home, the lights of Manhattan slipping past in a blur of colour. Back at the apartment, he took a hot shower and a Xanax. He needed something to help him sleep. He needed something to make him forget.

73

It was almost eight o'clock by the time Philip's Range Rover pulled up outside a detached grey stone farmhouse with a low-slung gable roof, in an idyllic spot behind Wes...o...b..rt Arboretum. The journey from London hadn't been nearly as awkward or uncomfortable as Sasha had been expecting, not once she'd employed the tactic of just letting Philip talk about his daughter. There didn't seem to be any limit to Philip's pride and affection for Lily. It was bittersweet for Sasha to listen to him; she was happy to see his face light up, but sad that she had no one she could speak of with such warmth or love.

Dusk was still an hour off but light had already fallen from the sky, smudging it with a peachy glow like a wash from a watercolour brush. This is a summit meeting, not a b.l.o.o.d.y mini-break This is a summit meeting, not a b.l.o.o.d.y mini-break, she told herself as she took her overnight bag from the boot and made her way into the house.

'The blue room at the front of the house is the nicest guest room,' said Philip. 'Put your bag upstairs and I'll start dinner.'

Sasha had been in many country house guest rooms before confections of four-poster beds, de Gournay wallpaper, Jo Malone candles and well-chosen antiques. But an interior decorator hadn't been near this place, she thought, looking at the uneven floor, chintzy curtains and rickety white wooden furniture.

Unzipping her holdall and removing the slim skirts, three pairs of high heels, Hermes riding boots, jodhpurs and a.s.sortment of silk and cashmere items, she felt immediately ill-equipped for the weekend ahead. This was a chunky jumper and Hunter wellies sort of place, not a dress-for-dinner one. She also felt ill-equipped for spending so much time with Philip. Emotionally, she was raw anyway, but it was somehow worse seeing Philip so well and so ... sorted. She'd always a.s.sumed that he'd have spent his days pining away for her, but he'd moved on, healed whatever wounds he had.

A cast-iron claw-foot bath sat in front of the huge bay window that looked over fields and hills, just smudges of olive and charcoal in the twilight. She turned the stiff bra.s.s taps on, and the bath quickly filled.

There was a knock at the door. 'You decent?'

Smiling at the propriety of it all, she saw Philip's arm appear around the door holding a gla.s.s of wine which she took gratefully.

'Thanks, Phil,' she said.

'Don't mention it,' he mumbled as she heard him thudding back down the rickety stairs. Taking off her clothes, she stepped into the bath and slid down until her shoulders dipped under the soapy water. All was silent, except for the evening song of a cl.u.s.ter of blackbirds outside and the gentle popping of bubbles against her skin, and she relaxed, feeling the tension ebb away. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea coming here after all.

Finally she came downstairs in the most casual clothes she'd brought: a pair of cashmere jogging pants and a sheer knit that just took the edge off the cool summer evening air. Philip was standing at the Aga with his s.h.i.+rt sleeves rolled up, grinding pepper into a bubbling pot.

'Just in time,' he said as he served up two plates of calorific-looking stew. They went through to the large living room, where a fire had been lit and stacks of papers set up on the table.

'What's that?' she said, pointing to the paperwork.

'Business school case studies of fas.h.i.+on company buy-outs, everything I could find on Simon a.s.sad, profiles of other investment houses, company accounts ... loads of other more boring stuff.'

She smiled, unable to hide how impressed she was. 'You've certainly done your homework.'

'Anything for a friend.' He smiled, then looked away. 'Anyway, what I don't understand is why a.s.sad can't see the value you bring to the company.'

'I think he did, but he's been persuaded otherwise.'

'By who? Randall Kane?'

Sasha shook her head. 'On Thursday I saw Miles and Simon go in to Randall's party together. I think Miles Ashford has poisoned a.s.sad against me.'

'Miles?' said Philip, almost choking on a mouthful of stew.

'It's female intuition, Phil. I know it.'

'But why would he do that? It's just petulant.'

'Miles always has been angry, peevish and destructive. Plus I think he's struggling a bit did you hear how his Dubai project went under? and he's p.i.s.sed off because he cashed in his Rivera investment before he made any real money.'

She paused, taking a sip of wine.

'And he'll still be bitter about my relations.h.i.+p with his father.'

'That was a long time ago, Sasha,' he said.

She could tell he didn't want to talk about it, but it was the elephant in the room and she needed to broach it, however painful it was.

'You do know I was with Robert in the car accident that killed him?' she said quietly.

'I heard a rumour,' said Philip, not meeting her eye.

She reached across to touch his hand. 'I didn't mean to hurt you, Phil, I really didn't, but ... I suppose I was swept off my feet, or something along those lines anyway. I certainly wish I hadn't been such a b.i.t.c.h to you.'

'As I said, it was all a long time ago.'

'Not for Miles,' said Sasha more fiercely. 'Miles hates me and I hate him right back.'

'Hate is a pretty destructive emotion, Sash,' said Philip. 'Nothing good ever comes of it. Have you confronted him about it?'

'As you might expect, Miles and I no longer talk.'