Page 77 of Gold Diggers

‘Are you going to come home, Molly? He still doesn’t know what he did to upset you, or why you won’t see the family …’

Molly was silent.

‘But none of that matters now,’ said Janet. ‘It’s time for us to be together. Maybe for one last time.’

‘We’re not really a family any more though, are we?’ said Molly, closing her eyes as she said it. ‘I don’t belong there, I never have done.’

‘This is ridiculous, Molly. He’s your father. Your father!’

‘Janet. Please don’t bother me again.’

‘Listen, he’s in Newcastle Infirmary. The operation is a week tomorrow and—’

Molly didn’t hear the rest of the sentence. She dropped the phone, went over to the wardrobe to retrieve Janet’s letters, tearing them into pieces before she flushed them down the en-suite toilet.

36

For once in her life, Erin felt truly happy. Sipping a champagne cocktail, surrounded by twinkling candlelight, facing the man she felt sure she was falling in love with, Erin felt as if she were on a set of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Julian had picked her up after work and taken her for dinner at Julie’s restaurant in Holland Park, grabbing a cosy table for two in the gorgeous open-air courtyard. This was just typical of Julian, she thought gleefully. Every morning, she would spend at least half an hour deciding what to wear on the off-chance that he would show up after work, the top down on the sports car, to whisk her out for supper or home to her flat, where they would sit on the tiny balcony drinking red wine or go straight to the bedroom.

The sex, of course, had been sensational. He was both unselfish and demanding; his hunger for her body made her feel sexy, desired, grown-up. His touch excited every nerve-ending in her body, and her orgasms were like fireworks. On those mornings, the Julian mornings, Erin would go into the office with a smile as wide as China.

Adam would tease her, of course. ‘Did someone strike it lucky last night?’ he grinned. But Erin had denied everything: she’d had to. Julian’s company were still potential clients and, as Adam’s PA, it would be very poor form indeed to date an employee.

‘How about we skip dessert and go back to your place?’ asked Julian. It was only 9.30. Julian winked and motioned the waiter over.

‘What about your place?’ asked Erin. They had only been to Julian’s Hoxton loft apartment once, but she had loved it. She had seen sleeker apartments – she saw them every day as part of her job – but pottering around Julian’s place in his oversized towelling robe, sliding into his free-standing stone egg-shaped bath, or making tea in the chrome-fitted kitchen, she felt as glamorous as any of the sophisticated designer-clad women she had met working at Midas. More than that, she felt at home.

Julian pulled a face. ‘No, not my place. Islington’s closer. Anyway, I prefer it at yours, I like being around your things.’

Erin’s brief disappointment dissolved as she saw other women glance enviously at her as they left the restaurant and screeched off in the convertible, her hair trailing behind her like a banner. For a second she thought this is how Karin must feel every day of her life.

At Peony House, Julian parked the car while Erin went into the lobby to check her post.

‘So you’re alive, then?’

Chris was waiting for the lift, looking as if he was just coming back from work, with bicycle clips still fastened around the bottom of his suit trousers.

‘So it seems,’ smiled Erin, collecting a parcel of Amazon books from on top of her pigeonhole.

‘Well, you’re in luck, Frankenstein,’ said Chris, holding the lift door open for Erin. ‘I’ve been sent a bottle of Petrus by a French importer. Don’t ask me why. All I do is take their bribes,’ he smiled. ‘Fancy a nightcap? You can tell me where you’ve been hiding for the last week.’

Erin looked embarrassed as she heard footsteps and Julian appeared behind them.

‘Did someone say nightcap?’ he smiled.

Chris gave a vague nod of t

he head. ‘Oh hello. Yes, I’m Erin’s neighbour. And you are …?’

‘Chris, Julian. Julian, Chris,’ said Erin, rushing to introduce them, feeling her cheeks blush hot. But why should she feel awkward? Okay, so she should have mentioned Julian to Chris before now, but it was hardly a secret, was it? She had just declined to mention it. Chris merely raised his eyebrows and the three of them rode up in the lift silently.

‘Are you always nipping over for nightcaps then?’ asked Julian when they were in the flat. He had slipped off his shoes and had gone over to the fridge to open a bottle of wine while Erin lit a scented candle and quickly tried to tidy up.

‘Don’t be silly, it’s nothing like that,’ she said. ‘He writes about food and wine for the Herald, so it’s kind of research.’

‘Is that what they call it now?’ he grunted as he pulled the wine cork, pouring them both a glass before they flopped onto the sofa together.

‘Don’t go getting all huffy,’ said Erin, kissing Julian on the neck. ‘I’ve barely borrowed a cup of sugar from him.’