Page 176 of Private Lives

‘Stop, Jess. Come on,’ he called after her. ‘We can sort this out.’

But Jessica was already running out of the building, her eyes clouding with tears. How dare they? How dare they use her heartbreak as a way of shoring up the ratings? It was disgusting, immoral.

Scrabbling her keys out, she jumped into her car and flipped down the vanity mirror. You know how important the eighteen to twenty-five demographic is. Like she was too old. Like she was becoming irrelevant. She peered into the mirror, pulling her cheeks back. Well, a good cosmetic surgeon would ensure that didn’t happen. She’d show them who the public wanted – America’s sweetheart or some slut with perky tits. She shoved the key into the ignition and revved the engine in a roar, screeching across the lot. She indicated right to turn the car on to Mulholland, and as she put her foot on the gas, she peered into the mirror again. Maybe a bit of under-eye work wouldn’t go amiss either, she thought. Then her whole body jolted sideways, her head slamming into the windscreen, metal squealing and crumpling as another car smashed into hers. And then she felt nothing.

56

‘Another round?’ said Helen, summoning the waitress with an elegantly raised finger in the heaving wine bar underneath the Embankment arches. ‘Or how about shots?’ she added with an unsteady smile.

‘I think she’s pissed,’ whispered David Morrow into Anna’s ear. There was certainly no question that Helen was cock-a-hoop. Jonathon Balon had been awarded seventy-five thousand pounds in libel damages that afternoon at the High Court. It wasn’t a huge amount, but then Balon had never been particularly bothered about the level of compensation.The key thing was that his name had been vindicated; after two long weeks of wrangling, Mr Justice Lazner had declared the Stateside allegations to be ‘seriously defamatory’ and the magazine’s Reynolds defence had failed. Helen had taken great delight in giving a long statement on the steps of the High Court to the waiting media, declaring the verdict to be ‘a triumph against irresponsible journalism’.

‘I never thought I’d see the day when Helen Pierce wasn’t one hundred per cent in control,’ said Anna. ‘She can barely stand.’

‘All part of her act,’ smirked David. ‘You watch: at eight o’clock on the button, she’ll leave, go to the gym, do two million sit-ups to work off the booze, then she’ll be straight back to the office to call the States, drum up some new business.’

He gave Anna a wicked little smile.

‘So then. A little bird tells me you’ve become very friendly with Sam Charles.’

Anna felt herself blushing furiously. She was glad the light was low.

‘Where on earth have you heard that?’ she said, as innocently as she could.

‘One of the secretaries told me they’d heard you giggling to him on your mobile. “Ooh Sam . . .” you were going, “talk dirty to me . . .”’

She slapped him on the forearm.

‘I did not say that. He’s a client. Of course I’m not shagging him.’

‘You were the one who mentioned shagging,’ laughed David. ‘I merely suggested that you were friendly.’

She avoided his gaze. Did he know she was lying?

All week, since their trip to Kerala, Sam had been texting and calling her. She had teased herself that she had been playing hard to get by default – she had no idea about the etiquette of dating a celebrity and had let him do all the running purely because she didn’t know what else to do. And boy, had it worked – that morning he’d invited her round to his Chelsea Harbour apartment, telling her to pack a bag for the weekend. Anna couldn’t pretend she wasn’t excited. She felt sure they’d had a connection on that trip, not just between the sheets, but elsewhere, in the laughter and the conversation. Surely he wasn’t that good an actor?

‘Well I wouldn’t get all moralistic about him being a client,’ said David, flapping a hand. ‘Where else are you supposed to meet your other half but at work these days? I bet half the Donovan Pierce staff are at it with each other. I hear the PAs have a bet on to see who can bed Matt Donovan first.’

‘But he’s the boss.’ Anna frowned. She was surprised to feel a jolt of protectiveness about her colleague.

David laughed, showing his big claret-stained teeth.

‘You weren’t so full of ethics when you were nuzzling into Sam Charles’s ear, were you?’

‘I’m going to the bar,’ she said, planning her escape route. The conversation was getting a little too close for comfort, and she could do with a soft drink to sober her up, especially with a busy night ahead planned.

‘Not joining us in the tequila, Anna?’ said Helen, coming up behind her holding a shot glass.

‘I’m seeing double as it is.’ Anna smiled.

‘Fair enough,’ said Helen. ‘But you won’t deny me a toast?’ She clinked her glass against her associate’s. ‘To Balon,’ she said, downing her spirit in one. ‘Actually I wanted to say thank you for all your help,’ she added, meeting Anna’s gaze. ‘I appreciate everything you’ve done.’

Anna was taken by surprise at the compliment.

‘No problem,’ she shrugged. ‘What a great way to start at the firm, with a successful libel trial.’

Helen gave a low chuckle. ‘Well I know we got off on the wrong foot. But you belong in this firm, Anna, I knew it the moment I met you. Lesser people would have been crushed by that Sam Charles incident, but you came out fighting. I like that.’

Words of praise from Helen Pierce were as rare as hen’s teeth, so it was impossible not to feel proud. Seizing the moment, Anna looked Helen in the eye.