Page 164 of Original Sin

‘That’s strange,’ said Tess. ‘Pillow talk obviously isn’t what it used to be. You see, I heard you’re sleeping with Benjamin Foley, the Spy’s proprietor, and I think you asked him to run the Olivia Martin story.’

Alicia’s cheeks coloured but her expression was defiant.

‘And I think you have horribly bad manners coming into my home and accusing me of such things. David Billington is my friend.’

‘Exactly,’ replied Tess.

Alicia stared down at the floor and Tess took her silence as her cue to continue.

‘A contact at the Oracle told me that the story about Brooke and her college tutor was leaked by an ex–girlfriend of David’s. I think that girlfriend was you, Alicia. I also think you persuaded Ben Foley to run the Olivia Martin story. The Billingtons are very influential in Washington, and not many people would want to piss them off by running something like this, not even a satirical magazine. This is a little rich even for their blood. But then, maybe a good fuck persuaded Foley, eh?’

Alicia dipped her chin and glowered. ‘This is outrageous!’ she spat. ‘Complete speculation.’

Tess didn’t move or speak. It was one of the tactics she had picked up from her old editor at the Globe, who used it to great effect with publicists and lawyers. It gave nothing away and yet hinted at power and knowledge.

‘You don’t want David to marry Brooke, do you?’ said Tess finally.

‘No I don’t!’ yelled Alicia finally, her nostrils flaring angrily.

Tess breathed a silent sigh of relief. She was right after all.

‘I have known David for fifteen years,’ said Alicia, her voice trembling. ‘I was in a relationship with him for two of those years. I know his family well and I know the plans they have for him. I loved David Billington, do you understand that? I believe in him. It may be your job to protect the Asgills, but at what cost? You know David’s political aspirations. You’d be a fool not to recognize that he’d be a great politician. But if his wife’s father murdered someone and it’s been covered up for all these years by her family, how is that going to look to the American public? They deserve more; they deserve the truth. Can you live with yourself trying to cover that up? Can you live with having denied this country a great leader – and for what? A salary?’

Tess looked at Alicia contemptuously. She did not believe for one second that Alicia’s motives had been so altruistic, that she cared so much about the American public. This was a woman who only cared about herself and was prepared to use any tactic to get her own way.

‘Don’t give me all this morality,’ said Tess. ‘This is about you still wanting David. It’s about you being jealous of Brooke Asgill and wanting to split them up.’

‘I had my whole life, our life, planned out before he met her.’

‘Your relationship was over by the time David met Brooke.’

‘Yes, and I ended it. I was foolishly playing hard to get, because he was showing no sign of proposing. I wanted him back and was prepared to play the long–game but then he met her. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.’

Tess examined her face, seeing that her eyes were glossy with tears and, for a moment, felt sympathy. She remembered the sharp pain when she saw the sapphire ring in Sean’s bag in Maui. A ring for someone else. Yes, she knew what it was to want someone and discover that they wanted someone else. But that didn’t justify Alicia’s actions. She wasn’t just damaging Brooke; she could bring down a whole family, perhaps two.

‘The story about Howard Asgill and Olivia Martin is over forty years old,’ said Tess steadily. ‘It’s dead, forgotten. More to the point, it’s not even true. Don’t sabotage David’s relationship because of it.’

Alicia stared directly at her. ‘And you are sure about that, Tess? Absolutely sure about it?’ said Alicia with contempt. ‘Why don’t you speak to Olivia’s sister and then tell me you’re so sure. She certainly doesn’t believe that Olivia killed herself.’

‘Oh, and now you care about Olivia Martin’s family too?’ scoffed Tess.

‘At least I care about someone,’ said Alicia.

‘Oh please,’ said Tess rolling her eyes.

‘Just leave,’ said Alicia firmly.

Tess thought about challenging her some more but picked up her bag.

‘I’ll see myself out,’ she said crisply.

Out on the street, it was cold. Tess pulled her coat up around her ears and hurried back towards Perry Street. Who was Olivia Martin’s sister and why did she think what she did?

More of Alicia’s words grumbled uncomfortably around her mind. At least I care about someone. Maybe she was right. Would she be doing this if she wasn’t being so well paid? No, absolutely not. But she had come to think of Brooke as a friend and, for all Meredith’s frostiness and Sean’s cavalier way with her feelings, she did care about the Asgill family. What annoyed Tess more was Alicia’s claim to care for David and his career. It may be your job to protect the Asgills, she had said, but at what cost? It reminded her of a conversation she’d once had with a barrister friend of Dom’s. He was renowned for getting violent criminals off their charge and Tess had asked him, ‘How can you? How can you do it when you know they are guilty?’

His response had been simple; that if his client told him he was innocent, then that’s what he believed. Tess remembered mocking him for his self–seeking blindness, and he’d reminded her that journalists were not so moral creatures themselves. Maybe he was right, too. But that wasn’t why she had got into journalism: what she’d loved back in the days of the Colchester Observer was breaking stories and digging up the truth. Tess had to admit that, somewhere along the line, that ideal had become pushed to one side. The Sunday Globe had been as much about the fancy job title and the fat pay–cheque as about chasing down the truth. But was she still that way, she wondered? Was she still so blinded by ambition that the truth no longer mattered? She shivered as she opened the door to the apartment. Jemma was coming out of the kitchen holding a glass jug filled with something thick and creamy.

‘Oreo Cookie Jello,’ she smiled, holding it up. ‘Want some?’