‘I was at a party about a year ago – this was when I’d finally turned my life back around – and a lady came over to speak to me. She was beautiful, a redhead in this gorgeous dress, you’d guess she was the wife of a lawyer or a banker – she looked a lot like your sister actually; anyway, she came up and told me that she knew how I felt. I asked her, “How I feel about what?” and she said, “Julian Denver”.’
‘Who was she?’
‘She gave me her card. I kept it. You never know when Julian Denver’s other ladies might need one another.’
‘Do you have it?’
Susan sighed, as if Rachel had truly overstayed her welcome, then disappeared into her bedroom, returning a few moments later with a business card.
‘You can’t have it,’ she said quickly. ‘But you can take down the details. I can’t tell you anything about Julian’s secret assets. I assume that’s what you’re here for, tracking down his love nests. But perhaps she can tell you more than I can.’
41
The Limelight Club in Bishopsgate was one of the most exclusive private clubs in London. It had stunning views over the City, an executive chef who had just been poached from Alain Ducasse in Paris, and on any given day it would see Forbes 500 chief executives, senior bankers and an assortment of other City power-players pass through its revolving doors. Most importantly, it accepted women as members, unlike many of London’s more established clubs, like White’s or Boodle’s in the West End.
Patty Reynolds stood by the window in a meeting room on the top floor known as the Snug.
‘I know we’d all have preferred lunch in the restaurant – but
these walls have ears,’ she said, instructing a waiter to leave a platter of sandwiches on the table.
Diana looked around the cosy space. Greg Willets and Michael Reynolds were reclining in two leather club chairs. A third chair was conspicuously empty.
Patty noticed her line of vision. ‘I did invite Elizabeth, but she was too busy to come.’
‘Is that what she said?’ said Diana.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Greg Willets, sniffing out the gossip.
‘She’s challenging Julian’s will,’ said Michael, putting down his Financial Times.
‘And what’s Adam got to say about that?’ asked Greg, sipping some mineral water.
‘You can ask him after the meeting,’ said Patty, nodding towards the door.
Diana turned, and her heart raced as she saw Adam striding through the door in a smart grey suit. Their eyes connected and she felt a flood of butterflies turning somersaults in her belly.
The empty chair was opposite her, and she shifted her position so that she was only looking at Patty.
‘The reason we’re here is to discuss Julian’s memorial service. Adam, I think even you will agree that perhaps the funeral didn’t have enough of Julian’s soul in it.’
‘I think Elizabeth is quite far down the line with arrangements. Does she know about this?’ Adam looked slightly fearful about the repercussions of what Patty was proposing.
‘Leave it with me. We can make some suggestions here today and I can pass them on to Elizabeth.’
‘Suggestions?’ said Greg. ‘You know as well as I do that Elizabeth will disregard anything that doesn’t come as a three-line whip.’
‘Perhaps you should give them to Ralph,’ said Diana diplomatically.
‘I said I’ll deal with it.’
‘Okay, okay,’ said Michael, putting up his hand. ‘Let’s remember why we are here. And it is possible to work with Elizabeth on this, rather than against her.’
Everyone nodded in agreement.
‘Diana, what do you think the day should be like?’ said Patty.
She felt nervous speaking first. Everyone else around the room was so confident, so sure about everything that came out of their mouths. Diana never had been.