We stepped out of the shower and towelled ourselves dry, then I shooed him from the bathroom. ‘I’ve got to do my hair and put my face on,’ I told him. ‘For that I need space and privacy.’ I checked the time. ‘Go on, get dressed, we’re running late.’
I was also running on empty. I’d had a long, eventful, and inevitably tiring day. I needed refuelling, for I had to prepare for the board meeting next morning and that would mean another early start. It took me less than five minutes to make myself reasonably presentable; my hair is never a problem and I restricted myself to what I call a half face, that being more make-up than I usually wear but not the full works.
I was in the Rock ’n’ Roll bedroom of our Rock ’n’ Roll suite, dressing for dinner, when the phone rang. Liam … why are men always ready first? … picked it up.
‘Yes?’ The inevitable pause. ‘No, reception was correct,’ he continued. ‘This is Primavera’s room. Hold on a second, and I’ll pass you across to her.’
I stepped round the bed and took the handset from him. ‘Woman,’ he mouthed silently.
‘Hi,’ I began, as he read my mind and moved behind me to finish the job of fastening my bra. ‘Primavera.’
‘Who the hell was that?’ Audrey gasped. ‘And don’t tell me it was Tom. I know his voice is changing, but that one belongs to somebody else.’
‘Ask Conrad,’ I told her. ‘He’ll be able to work it out. Or ask Janet; so will she.’
‘I will, don’t worry. Whoever he is, he sounds, mmm, interesting.’
‘You got that right,’ I agreed. ‘How are the children?’
‘As you’d expect,’ she replied. ‘They were both stunned when we told them. Wee Jonathan’s in pieces. I’ve left Janet to look after him. She’s done her crying, for now at least, and she’s in control of herself.’
‘What about Duncan?’
‘Not a problem, as yet. He tried to … let’s say, assert himself as the new head of the house before they arrived, when it was just the two of us there and the housekeeper. “I’m the children’s daddy now,” he said. We had a bit of a confrontation; I told him that might be so, but they barely knew him, and that if he ever wanted to have any sort of a relationship with either of them it shouldn’t begin by him telling them their mother was dead, and that he had to leave that to me. I’d already sent Conrad a text, letting him know what had happened. Duncan got the message. He was there when they arrived, but backed off as soon as he’d said hello … or tried to. Wee Jonathan spat at him as soon as he saw him. Now he’s staying away from them. To be honest, Primavera, I don’t believe he’s interested in them. He’s been on the phone for half the day, but I don’t know to whom.’
‘Uncle Phil?’ I suggested.
‘That’s a real possibility. I had a call from him a few hours ago. He said that he’d been advised by the company secretary of my appointment to the board and asked if I’d be at the meeting tomorrow. I told him that, in the circumstances, I couldn’t attend. Then he said, “In those same circumstances, we should cancel it, shouldn’t we?” I replied that that would need the approval of the chair. He asked how he could contact you, and I told him you were in transit, bound for Edinburgh. I lied a little; I said you probably wouldn’t be contactable this evening. Mind you, maybe it wasn’t a porky after all, given who answered the phone.’
‘Whatever,’ I said, ‘you did the right thing. Does Phil Culshaw know I’m here?’
‘Yes. He asked for the name of the hotel and I couldn’t not tell him. But I said that you probably wouldn’t be there until the evening.’
‘Even at that,’ I pointed out, ‘it’s nearly half past eight. I’d have thought he’d have called by now.’
‘Will you cancel the meeting if he asks?’
‘No way. This is a listed company, and we must give the impression of business as usual. I have to get my arse firmly planted in that chair, right away.’
‘But who’ll control it, Primavera, who’ll really control it?’
‘That’s the question. You go and look after those kids and leave me to work that out. I’ll keep you informed of what’s happening here. Bye.’
I hung up, frowning as I pulled my top over my head … carefully, not disturbing my hair.
‘How are they?’ Liam asked, quietly, from the bedroom doorway.
‘Bereft,’ was the only word I could find to reply as I moved to join him. ‘It makes me shudder, to think of what they must be feeling right now. Tom too, to an extent; he and Susie were close. She was his stepmother, remember.’
‘Of course.’ He took my hand, and I leaned against him for a couple of seconds, enjoying the sheer, long-forgotten luxury of having someone with whom I could do that.
‘Okay, Lance,’ I said. ‘Let’s go and knock on his door. He must be hungry and I am thirsty. In fact I feel like getting pissed, an option that a single mother has very rarely; so please, honey, make sure I don’t.’
‘That’ll be easy. Drink the same as Tom and me, and you’ll be fine.’
I smiled as I remembered our first dinner together, forty-eight hours before, when I’d somehow got, or felt, half cut on sparkling water, as my protective barriers began to collapse. ‘I should be wearing the Versace, shouldn’t I?’ I chuckled.
‘Yeah, you should. You’d have had to pack one fewer flimsy if you’d brought it.’
I gazed at him. ‘You knew I wasn’t wearing any?’ I exclaimed. ‘Is it cut so low you could see my minge?’
‘Not quite, but it is tight. When we went into the restaurant and I was walking behind you, well, let’s just say there was something in the way you moved.’
‘Oh no! Then most of the people in the square that night … and all the women, trust me … will know that Primavera was out with a man, sin bragas.’
‘Si,’ he agreed. ‘Y por qué no?’
‘You speak Spanish?’ I gasped.
‘Solo pocito. But as a global-travelling single man you’d expect me to know the word for knickers, surely.’
Twelve
We knocked on Tom’s door a minute after the promised time. He must have been waiting behind it, for it opened in one second flat. It was clear he saw it as a special occasion, for the boy who would normally dine with his mother on a June evening wearing shorts and a cap-sleeved T that showed off his thickening biceps was dressed in creased, dark, long trousers, a conventional pale blue shirt and his black soft leather jerkin. I glanced at his feet. My God, he was wearing black shoes … and socks!
He looked different, a boy who’d taken a firm step up the ladder to manhood. Having reclaimed my womanhood, I wondered whether he saw a change in me.
He had his iPad tucked under his arm. ‘Do we need that?’ I asked. He nodded, frowning slightly, and so I didn’t take it further.
He waited until we were seated at our table, before flipping back the tablet’s blue cover, and handing it to me. ‘I thought you’d want to see that, Mum,’ he said.
Tom’s a regular trawler of news sites, among them the BBC. The page he showed me was from its Scottish section, a report headed, ‘Oz Blackstone widow dies’.
Immediately below was a photograph of Susie, taken some years ago, with Oz; around ten, I reckoned, for she was pregnant with wee Jonathan and they were on the red carpet at a movie premiere. I read the story.
Scottish business is today mourning the death of Susie Gantry (40) who passed away this morning at Nice Airport, after touching down on a flight from Paris, the last leg of a journey from Arizona, where it is understood she had been receiving treatment for leukaemia.
Her death came minutes after the company she controlled, The Gantry Group PLC, announced that she was stepping down temporarily as chairman, to be replaced by her friend Mrs Primavera Blackstone, the Scottish film legend’s second wife, and mother of their son, Tom. Tragically, Ms Gantry, three times winner of the Scottish Businesswoman of the Year award, was accompanied on her last journey by her second husband, the Scottish writer Mr Duncan Culshaw. The couple were married in a whirlwind ceremony in Las Vegas only last week.