The honeymoon had been idyllic. They had spent a week in Africa on safari, a week on the coast and the final two weeks in Thailand. They had stayed in the most prestigious hotels, hired the best guides and travelled first class. Federica had been enchanted by everything she saw and Torquil had enjoyed watching her absorb each new experience after experience like a proud father. But most of all she had savoured their quiet moments together as husband and wife, when he had made love to her in the humid heat of the African jungle and in the jasmine-scented rooms of Thailand. There he had taught her to listen to the calling of her own sensuality and to abandon herself to it. To lose herself in the pleasure of his caresses without inhibition or guilt. When she had found it difficult to discard her shyness he had tied her to the four bedposts so that she had no choice but to give in to her senses and ride unrestrained on the waves of his stroking. At first she had been horrified by the idea, he had never suggested anything like that before. But Torquil had laughed at her inexperience and with gentle persuasion she had agreed to playfully experiment as long as it was done with love. She now blushed at such
The car drew up outside the doors of St John & Smithe. The doorman hurried down the steps to assist her. ‘Ah, Mrs Jensen,’ he said in surprise. ‘Good morning,’ he added reverently, tapping his hat with his hand.
‘Thank you, Peter,’ she replied as he closed the car door behind her. He didn’t comment on her return or make a joke about her sudden rise up in the world. He was too polite. Now she was Mrs Torquil Jensen an invisible wall had grown up between them. Federica Campione belonged to the other side.
When Harriet saw Federica she barely recognized her friend. She was the colour of milk chocolate and her white hair had been bleached further by the sun. She looked so elegant that Harriet had to suppress a pang of jealousy. ‘Darling girl, you look fantastic. Marriage obviously suits you,’ she enthused, embracing her.
‘I love it,’ Federica replied with relish, clasping her hands together like a child with a new toy. ‘I’m deliriously happy.’
‘I can’t believe you share a bed every night with Torquil. I hate you,’ she laughed. Harriet played with the string of pearls about her neck then shook her
head and added more seriously, ‘If I couldn’t have him, m’darling, I’m happy he’s with someone I know and love.’
‘Please don’t become a nun!’ Federica said, taking her by the hand. ‘You really were very fond of him, weren’t you?’
Harriet nodded sadly but smiled in spite of her disappointment. ‘Yes, I was,’ she admitted. ‘I always made it out to be a bit of a joke, but.. .’
‘Many a true thing is said in jest,’ Federica interrupted.
‘Spot on.’
‘So, are you able to have a quick lunch?’ she asked.
Harriet looked around furtively. ‘You’ll have to ask. Greta’s smarting over your wedding,’ she hissed, casting her eyes to the closed door of Greta’s office. ‘I’m going to love watching this confrontation.’
‘No one’s going to enjoy it more than me,’ Federica grinned, pulling herself up in preparation to returning with interest the unkindness her boss had shown her during her short time as salesgirl. ‘Go and tell her I’m here,’ she said and watched Harriet stalk purposefully across the floor to Greta’s office.
Federica looked around at her old workplace, which was now, in effect, her family business. She felt a deep sense of satisfaction and power and resolved
to use every ounce of it to humiliate Greta. However, when Greta appeared Federica lost the will to hurt her. It was too easy and besides she had already won. She suddenly remembered one of Nuno’s most favourite philosophies, ‘What goes around comes around’, vengeance was not hers to take.
Greta swallowed hard and smiled with her mouth, leaving her eyes to betray her discomfort. Her face was grey like a bruised apple revealing her unhappiness in every line. She no longer had the power to intimidate.
‘Congratulations, Federica,’ Greta said tightly.
'Thank you.’
‘I hear from Mr Jensen that your wedding was beautiful.’
‘It was,’ she said, noticing the effort Greta was making to sound enthusiastic, a characteristic that came as unnaturally to her as benevolence. ‘I'd like to take Harriet out to lunch, Greta, you don’t mind if she takes more than an hour, do you?’
Greta pursed her pale lips together and shook her head. ‘Of course not.’ Then she laughed uncomfortably and added, ‘You’re the boss.’