my story.’
‘Come on, Becks, you know everything.’
Becky looked at Tess for a long moment, then leant forward. ‘I think it was an ex-girlfriend of David’s,’ she said. ‘You know what they say about a woman scorned? Well, in New York, that fury is multiplied. Never underestimate the damage a vengeful social climber can cause.’
‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ grinned Tess.
Becky put her hand on Tess’s. ‘Honey, it’s so good to have you over here. Honestly.’
‘It’s good to see you too. Especially as you’re doing so well. I mean, just look at you. Where did Bonkers Becks go?’
Becky laughed out loud, again causing heads to turn. ‘You know, I used to think that New Yorkers have no time for love because they throw themselves into their careers,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Now I think it’s the other way around – they become workaholics because it’s so hard to find love.’
‘So I take it you haven’t found your pashmina-wearing Prince Charming yet?’ smiled Tess.
She laughed again, casting a glance towards the couple at the next table. ‘No. The problem is, I think those banker types are pricks,’ she whispered.
Tess giggled.
‘Not that I’ve given up, of course. I even went to this “Fashion and Finance” speed-dating thing the other week,’ continued Becky. ‘Very popular right now, full of pretty girls and rich guys all looking for love, but I have to say I was absolutely bored to tears. I ended up going home with a woman.’
Tess’s eyes opened like saucers.
‘Her name was Dita,’ smiled Becky. ‘A freelance fashion PR. We had much more in common than any of those boring farts in their sensible shoes.’
‘Wow,’ gasped Tess. ‘So what happened?’
‘Nothing,’ laughed Becky. ‘Mother Nature kicked in; I couldn’t do it. But that’s New York, baby. That’s how desperate it is out there. I think it was God’s way of telling me I am destined to be alone. Anyway, how’s the very sexy Dom?’ she asked, sipping her water. ‘I think he always wanted to work in New York more than both of us.’
Tess’s smile faded at the mention of her boyfriend. ‘Dom’s still in London.’
‘You guys haven’t finished, have you?’ said Becky, her expression softening.
‘No, no, nothing like that. He hasn’t got a visa, so we’re having a transatlantic affair.’
‘Very chic,’ said Becky. ‘Are you missing him?’
‘Working fourteen-hour days I’ve not had a chance to miss him.’
‘Hmm. Or maybe you just don’t,’ said Becky, raising a brow.
Tess looked thoughtful. ‘No, I think it’s more that I had to come here to get out of my comfort zone.’
Becky laughed. ‘You two are hardly in a rut, are you? Whenever I hear from you, you’re always flying off to some exotic location.’
‘Maybe not, but we’ve been together for nearly nine years. Sometimes distance can bring you closer together.’
Becky hesitated, playing with her fork.
‘Do you trust him, Tess?’ she asked softly. ‘No disrespect to Dom, but I don’t think I would leave a man that fine alone two minutes in big, bad London. More to the point, do you trust yourself to be let loose in this big city?’
‘The answer is yes,’ said Tess firmly. ‘Yes and yes.’
Although she couldn’t help thinking back to the one time she’d been unfaithful. It had been eighteen months into their relationship when she began struggling with the idea of commitment. She was only halfway though being twenty. Should she not be young, free, and single, and enjoying all London had to offer? One weekend, Dom had been away on a snowboarding trip with his friends, and Tess had been invited to a party by an associate editor on the Globe. It had been at a big Victorian villa in Barnes, stuffed to the gills with media types she recognized from the TV or from their photo by-lines in the papers. The moment she saw Charlie, she knew something was going to happen. He was thirty, an advertising director and the son of the old chief executive of the Globe group. He was also engaged, but that hadn’t stopped him stroking Tess’s neck. She’d been flattered by the attention of someone five years older and infinitely more successful, so they’d gone back to her flat in Clapham and the sex had been explosive. Charlie had left at seven the next morning, but not before telling her about a features editor position he knew was coming up at the Globe. ‘Keep what happened last night between us,’ he’d told her and she had kept her word. Three months later she was the youngest senior journalist at the Globe.
She looked up and had the uncomfortable feeling that Becky had been reading her thoughts.
‘Don’t get too comfortable without him, honey,’ she said seriously. ‘Let Dom go and you might be single for the next five years. Some people call New York a jungle. Well, let me tell you, when it comes to love, it’s a fricking desert.’
David grabbed Brooke’s hand and led her past the doorman into the lobby of 740 Park Avenue, one of Manhattan’s most prestigious apartment blocks.
‘It’s going to be fine,’ he whispered, his voice almost lost against the tip-tapping of Brooke’s heels on the black-and-white chequered marble.
Brooke smiled weakly, feeling her anxiety grow. The last thing she felt was fine. She had spent the last three days torturing herself over the revelations in the Oracle about her relationship with Jeff Daniels, swinging back and forth between disgust, disappointment, and anger. Her first instinct was to run away and hide, but she knew deep down that the only thing to do was put on a brave face and ‘step up to the plate’ – wasn’t that what they said? She had been able to keep up a façade of calm at work, where she knew and trusted most of her colleagues, but it was quite another thing to face people on David’s extensive social circuit. Brooke didn’t understand David’s insistence about coming tonight – Graydon and Estella Winston were not particularly good friends of his – but she had not felt in a strong enough position to argue. David had been a rock since the scandal had broken. He’d been in Boston on a CTV conference and had rushed back to Brooke’s apartment to be with her. Although Brooke was sure he’d had to endure a severe tongue-lashing from his father, David had been calm and relaxed, running her a bath and giving her a heavenly foot massage while he had said lots of reassuring things about how none of it mattered and how much he trusted her.
Brooke pressed the button for the elevator and turned to her fiancé. ‘If people are whispering about me, we’re staying twenty minutes and then we’re going home.’
David chuckled. ‘Honey, these people are not Oracle or Page Six readers – most of them consider the Wall Street Journal light reading. Anyway, they fancy themselves as having more important things to talk about than your college adventures.’
Just then
