True Colours:The You Don't Know Me Trilogy Book 2(42)

He glances at the main doors.

'Be quick,' he warns me. 'No mucking about.'

Still wondering what sort of mucking about he thinks women get up to in  toilets, I meander through a labyrinth of corridors, stumbling over the  Ladies by accident. An ornate antechamber comes first, followed by a  luxurious washroom, and finally the cubicles. Once I'm locked inside, I  set about fiddling with the dress, desperate not to dunk any of the  eight thousand eight hundred pounds' worth of material in the toilet.  Gathering it together at the front, I bunch it around my waist, knowing  full well that it's going to be creased beyond recognition by the time I  emerge again. When I've finished, I straighten out the dress as much as  possible, open the door, and head for the sinks. I'm reaching for some  high-end liquid soap when someone speaks behind me.

'Maya.'

I turn quickly, recognising the voice. I've heard it before. In fact, if  I'm not very much mistaken, the last time it spoke to me, it called me  'sewage mouth.' Staring into the pompous face of Claudine Thomas, I  wrestle with the urge to tell her to fuck off. But I'm dressed like a  lady, and for once I'm determined to behave like one. Which is more than  I can say for her. Wearing a ridiculously short, green silk dress and  impossibly high heels, she looks every inch an escort.

'How do you know my name?' I seethe.

Her thin lips fake a smile. Her eyes glimmer with threat.

'I've done my research.'

'And what are you doing here?'

Because if Dan sees you, he's going to go ballistic  …  and that's putting it mildly.

'I paid for a ticket, silly.' She smiles again. It makes my stomach  curdle. 'I'm here with Isaac. You remember Isaac, don't you?'

How could I ever forget him? An overweight, over-the-hill walrus of a  man, the owner of a kinky club, and a lecherous pillock to boot.

She sidles forwards. 'Did he make you come?'

'I beg your pardon?'

'Just now.' The lips curl up a little further. 'At your table. You weren't just kissing, were you?'

'You saw?'

Oh bugger, I really shouldn't have said that. I should have feigned innocence.

'I wasn't the only one. Isaac enjoyed it too. And a few other people, I should think.'

My cheeks flood with embarrassment.

'Looks like you're in love.'

'It's no business of yours.'

'Of course not.'

Her cat-like eyes glisten in the light. I need to get away from this  woman, and quickly too. But before I leave, I need to put her in her  place.

'If you're here to cause more trouble, you can just forget it.'

'I never cause trouble.'

'Oh no?' I smile back, determined to play this coolly. Turning to the  sink, I squirt a dollop of soap into my hands and lather them up. 'So  spreading rumours that Dan's a whip-cracking sadist isn't causing  trouble?' Watching Claudine in the mirror, I run my hands under the  water.

'He was a whip-cracking sadist with me.'

'Only because you asked for it.'

'He enjoyed it.'

'He didn't. Believe me.' I shake my hands, switch off the tap and reach for a hand towel.         

     



 

'You don't know your boyfriend as well as you think you do.'

'I know him better than anyone.'

'He's keeping plenty of things from you.'

She cocks her head to one side and my body stiffens. Right now, I'd love  nothing more than to knock the wind out of her sails. I'd love to  inform her that she's telling me nothing new, that I'm working on it,  slowly encouraging the secrets out of him one by one. And I'd certainly  love to tell her I don't need some self-satisfied, red-headed, kinky  freak meddling in my business. But that wouldn't be wise. The less said,  the better. And besides, I need to ratchet this up a little and while  I'm at it, I'll put an inevitable end to the ladylike behaviour.

'Why don't you just fuck off, Claudine?'

Totally unaffected, her face remains impassive.

'And why don't you just ask him about his wife?'

She's staring at me now, like a child torturing a fly, intrigued by its  every reaction, and I'm not entirely sure what she's picking up on. All I  know is this: I can't move and I can't breathe, and the room seems to  have melted.

'Oh, I'm sorry. Did I shock you?' She smiles, a Cheshire cat sort of  smile, all teeth and lipstick. 'You didn't know about her, did you?'  Tipping her head to one side, she proceeds to drag out the next few  words, punctuating them with ridiculously long pauses. 'His rich  …   beautiful  …  Italian wife?'

Blind-sided, I drop the towel into the sink, steadying myself for a  moment against the marble top before I swivel round, lean back and stare  straight into Claudine's smug little face.

'What are you talking about?'

'Isn't it obvious?'

'You're lying.'

'I'm sorry, Maya. I'm not.'

'But how do you  … ' I falter, choking on my own words.

'How do I know?' She leans in to me. 'Isaac,' she whispers. 'Dan might  not be too keen on him now, but when he was younger, he used to tell  Isaac all sorts of things, especially after a few whiskies.'

'I don't believe you.'

Her eyes crease. Another fake smile.

'I don't care.'

With a shrug, she turns on her heels, leaving me in chaos, floundering in a quagmire of confusion.

A wife.

A rich, beautiful Italian wife.

His words replay themselves in my head: 'I was a mess back then. It wasn't a good time. I'd just rather forget.'

But why, Mr Foster? Is it because you hurt her? Or did she break your  heart? Is that real reason why you shut yourself off for years on end? I  shake the questions out of my head, wondering why I'm even bothering to  sift through the possibilities. After all, if Claudine Thomas is  telling the truth, then I'm living with a big, fat, dirty liar because  as far as I can remember, he told me categorically that he'd never been  married. And if he's lied to me about that, then what else is he holding  back? With a resounding crash, confusion gives way to anger. He's  reeled me in, and I've made it oh so easy for him.

Well, I'm not going to make it easy any more.

'Hey.' I look up to find Lily standing in front of me. 'Dan sent me to  fetch you. He said that's enough mucking about. The main course is being  served.'

'Is it?'

At last, I come back to my senses.

'I'm just coming.' Rearranging my hair, I resolve to serve up a main course of my own.

***

I follow Lily back to the ballroom. As soon as I'm through the door, I  catch sight of him, chatting and laughing with our fellow table-mates,  totally unaware of the drama that's about to erupt in his life. With my  heart crashing at my rib cage, I weave my way back through the tables  and take my seat.

His arm snakes around my back and I shudder.

'What's the matter?' he asks. The smile disappears. 'Maya? Talk to me.'

Oh, where to start?

'Do you think we're having pizza tonight?' I ask chirpily.

'Pizza? I wouldn't think so. This is the Savoy.'

'How about spaghetti then?'

Withdrawing his arm, he leans back. 'What's come over you?'

I survey the room. And there she is, Claudine Thomas, standing by a  table, chatting to Isaac, glancing over in our direction every now and  then.

'That pair.' I nod towards her.

I feel him tense. He's obviously spotted them.

'What the fuck are they doing here?' His eyes are back on me. 'Did they speak to you?'

'I've just had a lovely chat with Claudine in the toilets  …  in between mucking about.'         

     



 

'What did she say?'

'I don't want to talk about it here.' I rest a hand on his arm. 'I just want to leave.'

'I can't go yet. Lily's doing an auction.'

'I'm sure she'll understand if we say arrividerci.'

I smile sweetly.

'Maya, she wants me here to support her.'

'Yes, but if you say ciao, bella  … '

Without warning, he slams a fist on the table. The conversation around us grinds to a halt.

'What's with the Italian?' he demands.

'I could ask you the same question.'

'What are you going on about?'

'Your Italian wife.'

He hesitates.

'I have no wife.'

'And are you sure about that?'

'Of course I'm sure. What did she say?'

'I told you, I don't want to talk about it here.'

'And I do. What did she say?'

'Ask her yourself.'

Before I can grab at his tux, he's on his feet, twisting and turning  through the tables, making his way towards Isaac and Claudine. I watch  as he grabs Claudine by the arm, as Isaac reaches out to stop him.  There's about to be a scene, and I don't particularly want to witness  it. I need to get away from this place, and I need to get away from Dan.  Rising to my feet, I focus on the exit.

And then I run.

Within seconds, I'm out of the ballroom, tottering back down the incline  and out through the revolving doors. Removing the high heels, I dodge a  passing Ferrari, head to the left and skirt round the edge of the park.  I'm quickly onto the embankment, crossing the road and setting off  towards the Golden Jubilee Bridge, but it's not that easy making a  getaway in a full-length evening gown. Before I'm even half way there, I  run out of steam, coming to a halt by Cleopatra's Needle, as good a  place as any to hide out for a while. Stumbling down the steps onto a  stone observation deck, I lean against a wall, catching my breath as I  look down at the dark, sleek waters of The Thames. After a while, I  raise my head and take in the view: Waterloo Bridge to the left; and to  the right, a skyline dominated by the Eye. Illuminated now against the  night, it's still rotating slowly.