Page 136 of Private Lives

Larry gave Sheryl a sidelong glance, wondering at her true age. Was she too old for Matthew? He could certainly do a lot worse, Larry thought, feeling a sudden pang of affection for her.

He hurried through the foyer and out towards the cab rank. No matter how fond he was of Sheryl, he really didn’t want to be seen loitering in a hotel lobby with a notorious party girl, especially after the task he’d set her.

‘Find a nice fellow.’ He smiled, kissing her on the cheek to say goodbye. ‘I do want you to be happy, you know.’

‘That’s always been the trouble with men like you, Larry,’ she said, jumping into a taxi. She wound down the window and winked at him. ‘You all think we need a man to make us happy. It never crosses your mind that we’re perfectly fine on our own.’

43

Dear Anna,

I just wanted to say how much I am going to miss you at Sophie’s wedding. Of course, I understand your reasons for not wanting to be there. I can’t begin to think how hurt you must have been by what she did and I’ll always regret not being there for you more after it happened. For a soldier, I didn’t handle it very well, did I? Burying my head in the sand wishing it hadn’t happened and hoping that things would just get back to normal.

For the record, your mother and I were so angry and disappointed with Sophie for doing what she did to you. Maybe you needed to hear that sooner, but the conflict between you and Sophie has been hard for us. We are Sophie’s parents too, and however much we disapprove of what she did, we still have to keep on loving her. I hope that one day you will forgive her too.

I know it will happen because you are the most bighearted woman I’ve ever met. I know it because you are the smartest, shrewdest, most compassionate daughter a man could wish for. I’ve always been so proud of you, Anna. The clever, enquiring little girl you were. The strong, capable woman you’ve become. The incredible wife and mother I know you will one day be.

You’re a wonderful sister, and I’m sure Sophie wants to tell you that herself too. If you are open to that opportunity, you should know that Mum has arranged a hen-party dinner at the Savoy next Thursday from seven o’clock, with dancing at some nightclub later on. No pressure at all, I just wanted you to know, because everybody would love to see you there. We’re a family, Anna. We miss you and it doesn’t feel right without you.

Anyway, I’ve said my piece. I completely understand how difficult this is for you, and I will respect your decision whatever you choose to do.

Love always, Dad

It was the fifth time she had read her father’s email. For the last ten minutes she had been staring at it, hoping that the more she looked at it, the easier it would be to find the words to reply.

But here she was, the media lawyer, the voracious reader, the first-class communicator – or so the Legal 500 had once described her – struggling to work out what she felt, let alone what to write.

She wished she had a glass of wine or a cigarette. Wished she did not have to deal with this right now. Wished that this whole situation had not made her so bitter and angry, because she knew that before Sophie and Andrew had betrayed her, she was a different person, a better, nicer, happier one. She hated feeling like this, and hated making her father feel like this.

Her hand hovered over the Delete key, then she changed tack and pressed Reply. ‘Thanks for the note, Dad, sorry I can’t make it, have to go to Edinburgh Festival, speak soon. Ax,’ she typed quickly, stabbing the Send key before she had time to think about it any more.

Anna knew her dad wouldn’t try and contact her again about it. He was a quiet, wise man, respectful of other people’s feelings, and he knew when to bow out. Living all those years with her mother had taught him that.

But as she turned away from her computer, she pictured him sitting in his kitchen office reading it, shaking his head with disappointment, and felt a flood of guilt and shame. Her breath quickened as hot tears collected and pricked the back of her eyes. Through the glass window of her office she could see Matt Donovan glancing over as if he wanted to speak to her. There was no way she was going to let him see her cry. She stumbled up from behind her desk and raced to the ladies’, ducking into a toilet cubicle and closing the door. She pulled the seat down and sat on it, pushing her thumbs on to her eyelids to stave off emotion.

Outside the stall, she could hear the click-clack of court shoes entering the bathroom. Someone was talking; a one-way conversation as if they were on the phone. The voice was low, but she recognised it immediately: Sid Travers, her trainee.

‘Look,’ said Sid, ‘I know they’ve fired me, but it still doesn’t make it right doing it. I feel dreadful.’

There was a long pause, whilst Sid evidently listened to her caller.

‘But I need the money.’

Anna’s ears pricked up. Money?

A pause, then Sid continued: ‘No, she doesn’t know, of course she doesn’t. She would go absolutely mad.’

The pitch of her voice rose with aggravation.

‘Because I should have come clean but I didn’t, did I?’ she hissed. ‘And now, after everything that’s happened, now they’ll never understand it and hate me for being a liar.’

Anna grimaced. The one-sided conversation made it impossible for her to know what Sid was talking about, but she had a slow, sinking feeling about what it could be. She recalled her conversation with Blake Stanhope, when he had said, ‘Have you ever considered that the leak came from your end?’

Sid had definitely known about the injunction and about Sam’s infidelity. They had openly discussed it in meetings with Helen in the boardroom. And something else too: Katie Grey’s mobile phone photograph of her and Sam in bed had been sent to Anna’s computer terminal. How hard would it have been for Sid to make a copy?

She strained her ears again. Sid seemed to be winding up her telephone call.

‘All right, I’ll come,’ she said. ‘But I don’t know what I’m going to say to get out of work.’