Page 133 of Gold Diggers

Erin just sat there, open-mouthed. She couldn’t say a word. Adam Gold was too insistent, too persuasive to turn down, at least at that moment.

‘Now then,’ he said, continuing with his air of authority. ‘I need you to do something for me.’

‘Umm, okay, what is it?’ asked Erin, busy thinking how she was going to stall Ed Davies and Millennium Publishing.

‘I need you to check on Karin.’

Erin groaned inwardly. If she could just give in her notice right at this second, she need never see that bitch again.

Adam went on. ‘I haven’t spoken to her since Monday morning when we were all at the villa.’ He looked up, the hint of a wry smile on his lips. ‘I know it might not seem like a long time, but she usually rings. I’ve tried her a few times and there isn’t any reply on her mobile or at home.’

‘You want me to go round?’ asked Erin. Adam nodded and fished in his pocket, pulling out a tan crocodile-skin key-holder and unclipping a small gold key.

‘I’m sure everything is fine,’ he said, passing it over. ‘We had a bit of a …’ he stopped, not knowing how much information to offer. ‘We had a little disagreement over the weekend, so she’s probably just in a mood. But can you just go round and check she’s okay and get her to ring me? Thanks, Erin. I really couldn’t manage without you.’

Erin stood up and nodded. If only that were true, she thought.

Tap, tap, tap, tap. Summer rolled over, not sure if she was dreaming or awake. She opened her eyes and glanced at her alarm clock. Midday. Tap, tap, tap. She could hear it again. She pushed back the duvet and sat up on her elbows. It was coming from the front door – a sharp insistent rapping of the letter box. Molly. It had to be.

‘Where on earth have you been?’ said Molly, charging through the door. Summer had to rub her bleary eyes and do a double take. Molly was wearing no make-up, her skin looked tired and lined, and she was in a pair of skin-tight navy yoga pants and white T-shirt, her hair tied up in a messy ponytail. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her mother looking anything but immaculate.

‘Summer, did you hear me?’ she snapped, ‘I’ve been frantic about you.’

‘I’ve been in Milan,’ said Summer. ‘You knew very well where I was.’

‘But I thought your plane got back last night. I’ve been sick with worry’.

Summer raised an eyebrow. ‘I did get back last night, but it was late. You don’t usually send out the search party.’

Molly tried to look hurt. ‘I thought your plane got in at seven o’clock. I knocked for you a couple of times but there was no reply. I didn’t know what to think,’ she said. There was a pause. ‘There’s nothing wrong, is there?’ Sun was blasting in through the flat’s French windows, bouncing off the pale cream walls, lighting the room up with a seaside brightness. It didn’t do Molly any favours, thought Summer. She looked as if she hadn’t slept a wink. Perhaps she really was worried.

‘No, no. Nothing wrong. My plane was delayed, that’s all,’ said Summer yawning.

‘It was a good party though, wasn’t it?’ said Molly eagerly. ‘I must phone to thank Karin. You haven’t spoken to her yet, have you?’

Her speech was quick and somehow forced and for a minute Summer thought her mum was high. ‘No. I’ve not spoken to Karin since.’

Molly began picking at a bowl of grapes on the coffee table. ‘Well, I thought you might have met up with Adam in Milan. Isn’t that where he went after the party?’

‘He’s been in Paris,’ said Summer, lowering her eyes.

‘So you did speak to him at the party?’

There was a silence. A charged quiet like the lull before a thunderstorm. Summer walked out of the room into the kitchen, where she got a bottle of mineral water out of the fridge. Molly had got up to follow her, but Summer returned to the lounge and flung open the French windows, feeling the warm morning sun on her face.

‘What is this? Twenty questions? Yes, I spoke to him.’ She still had her back to Molly and was staring intently at a little apple tree in the garden, its branches dotted with small, stunted fruit.

‘Well, what happened? You looked gorgeous on Saturday. I couldn’t believe it when you just left the party on Sunday when you could have taken the boat out with him that afternoon and spent some time together and—’

‘Mother, I’m pregnant.’

Summer shut the French doors again and turned back inside. Molly’s eyes widened towards an expression that hovered between horror and joy.

‘Adam’s?’ she asked.

Summer nodded and the tears began to roll down her face.

‘Well, have you told him?’ Molly walked over and put an arm around her shoulders. ‘You’ve got to tell him, honey. This makes all the difference. A baby makes a difference.’