Page 207 of Guilty Pleasures

Giles led Cassandra out through a door onto a decking area that had a splendid view over the fields to the sand dunes and the sea beyond.

‘I’m sorry about everything that’s happened in the last three months,’ said Giles kindly.

‘Thank you,’ said Cassandra. ‘But actually in a funny way I’m glad of it all. It was horrible at the time but I’ve learned an awful lot: about myself, about what I want and what I need. And you know what I needed the most?’

He shook his head.

‘A friend,’ said Cassandra softly.

He put his arm around her shoulder and she rested her head on his. One day soon she wanted to be held by a man she was in love with and who was in love with her. Right now, she’d settle for the embrace of a man whom she loved.

Giles looked inside the house at Ruby and Stephen throwing oranges and raspberries in a blender.

‘I’m glad Ruby’s come,’ he said.

‘Oh, why didn’t someone tell me what I’ve been missing out on?’

‘What’s that?’

Cassandra waved a hand towards Ruby and Stephen, the windmill, the view.

‘All of this. Fun. Love. Contentment,’ she smiled and looked at her daughter lovingly. ‘We’re going to Paris for Easter.’

‘Are you staying at Guillaume’s chateau?’

‘No. Disneyland Paris,’ she laughed.

‘Disneyland Paris?’ said Giles, a horrified hand flying to his mouth.

‘Then two nights at Le Meurice,’ she laughed in her familiar glamorous tinkle. ‘It’s so handy for the Louvre. You know in all the times I’ve been to Paris, I’ve never seen the Mona Lisa.’

‘There’s a first time for everything,’ said Giles. ‘I hear she’s very chic.’

They both fell silent, content in one another’s company again.

‘You know it was Francesca who told Glenda about the Georgia Kennedy shoot,’ said Cassandra after a pause.

He nodded. ‘I figured that out when Francesca got the editor’s job.’

‘I’m sorry for doubting you.’

‘Well, you did me a favour.’

‘Really?’ said Cassandra, surprised. She knew he was finally writing his Dior biography, but she felt sure he missed life at Rive.

‘That old life? It was tyrannical,’ said Giles. ‘Do you know how long it used to take me to get dressed in the morning?’

‘You always looked fabulous,’ she laughed, but she knew what he meant.

She couldn’t have a favourite handbag because it had to be replaced every season. Even the most beautiful, exquisite dresses could only be worn once. After that they had to be archived until it was safe for them to be called vintage. Everything had to be the best, the latest, the hottest. It was no wonder she could barely sustain a relationship with a man; in her disposable and judgemental world, she wasn’t even allowed to form a bond, a relationship, with a handbag.

‘How’s everything in Chilcot?’ asked Giles. He had been taking a keen interest in the story that had been running in the papers for weeks. Rebecca Milford and Ruan McCormack were currently on remand for arson and attempted murder. Julia was still being investigated by the Swiss police;

formal charges were expected any day.

‘Emma has offered me a non-executive directorship of Milford,’ she said, looking out to the strip of silver sea in the distance.

‘So you’ve finally made your peace?’