Will just looked at him blankly while cameras whirred and clicked.
‘Sir Philip passed away last night,’ the reporter said piously. ‘It was a heart attack, very sudden.’ His reverential tone was belied by the excitement in his face. ‘I’m sorry to be the one to tell you.’
No, you’re not,Will thought, longing to smash his smug face in. You’re not sorry at all. You’re fucking delighted. He had to clench his fists to stop himself lashing out.
‘He was a great man, Sir Philip,’ the reporter said solemnly. ‘A great loss to us all.’
As if you knew him. As if anything he did meant fuck to you. Name one of his plays, you fucking Neanderthal!
The rest of the gaggle of reporters, who had fallen silent during this exchange, sprang into action once more, all shouting questions at once. Had Will really not known about his father’s death until this moment? Was he in touch with Antonia Bell? Had he spoken to Sir Philip before he died? How did he feel? How did he feel? How did he feel?
Somehow Will turned on his heel and walked purposefully towards the house, the newsmen tripping over each other as they struggled to keep up with his long stride. Head down, shoulders hunched, his mouth shut in a grim line, Will ignored the questions, refusing to look into the cameras thrust in his face. He just had to hold it together until he got inside. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of breaking down in front of them. When he got to the other side of the door, he could howl and scream and go to pieces. He just had to keep it together for another couple of steps.
10
Kate arrived back at the house a couple of hours later. Since everyone else was going to the 2Tone concert tonight, she didn’t have to cook dinner, so she had taken advantage of the opportunity to do some sightseeing and treat herself to a little retail therapy – or a lot, as it turned out. She had set off with the noble intention of spending the afternoon doing the rounds of Florence’s art treasures, after a quick trawl of the shops to pick up some presents for people back home. But once she hit the streets, Michelangelo and Botticelli were sidelined in favour of Prada and Versace. Seduced by Florence’s wonderful shops and markets, she had walked her feet off, pounding the hot pavements, enjoying the rare luxury of having plenty of money to spend. One shop led to another and another, and before she knew it, the hours she had meant to spend gazing at art in churches and galleries had telescoped into a quick flit around some frescos, which she dutifully squeezed in before falling into a cab.
Though Will and the band had done their best to persuade her to go to the concert with them, she had refused, opting instead to have a quiet night in by herself. If Tina hadn’t beenaround she’d have jumped at the chance to join them, but the thought of spending an entire evening in her company was more than Kate could bear. She couldn’t relax around Tina, who seemed to go out of her way to make her feel like a fifth wheel, a terminally uncool hanger-on. Besides, she was looking forward to a deliciously self-indulgent evening. She would play with her purchases, take a long, luxurious bath, eat supper on her lap in front of the TV and have a long-overdue early night. It was lovely being able to watch trashy TV likeCelebrity Cell Blockwithout Brian making faces.
Thinking of Brian, she realised that a phone call to him was also long overdue. She’d ring him tonight. It was a good thing she’d managed to take in the frescos, even if it was an afterthought – at least it would give her something cultural to tell him and he wouldn’t think she was a complete philistine – or, worse, that she had become a slave to Mammon. She could talk up the frescoes and play down the shopping. Unfortunately, he was too high-minded to want to listen to scurrilous gossip about celebrities, which was a pity because she had loads to tell. Besides, she was dying for a bitch and, with everyone out of the house, it would have been the perfect opportunity to let off steam about Tina and her friends. Maybe she’d ring Freddie first…
She arrived home at about seven. Expecting to find the house empty, she sailed into the living room, prepared to drop her bags, kick off her shoes and flop onto one of the couches. She was taken aback to find Tina draped sulkily on one of them, flanked by two of her friends, bitching about something. They were all stunningly beautiful and dressed to the nines, but Kate was reminded of the three witches inMacbeth.
Tina looked up as Kate came in, then resumed her conversation as if she wasn’t there.
‘I’m not being selfish, am I?’ she was saying in a low voice to Julie, a blonde, baby-faced waif.
‘No, of course not,’ Julie purred soothingly. ‘You’ve been looking forward to this for ages. Naturally you’re disappointed.’
‘If anything, he’s the one who’s being selfish,’ Gwen, an angular redhead with endless legs and cheekbones that could have cut diamonds, chimed in supportively. ‘He knows how much this means to you.’
‘It’s just my luck,’ Tina huffed. ‘Why do these things always happen tome?’
‘Why do bad things ever happen to good people?’ Gwen asked philosophically.
Kate’s first instinct was to make for the kitchen but, as they had seen her come in, she felt that would be rude. So she decided to tough it out and determinedly threw herself onto the couch opposite, greeting them with a cheery ‘hi.’
Tina looked at her as if the cat had spoken. Kate’s spirits sank. Faced with the clannish hostility of Tina and her mates, she felt suddenly lonely for a friend. If only Freddie was here for a post-shopping show-and-tell and an evening of giggly gossip and bitching over a bottle of wine.
‘You’ve been shopping?’ Julie enquired, nodding to Kate’s bags.
‘Yes. I got a bit carried away.’ Kate smiled ruefully.
‘Oh, the shops here are just to die for, aren’t they?’ Julie wrinkled her nose conspiratorially. ‘I love that place – their stuff’s amazing,’ she said, pointing to a bag from a trendy designer shop.
‘Let’s see what you got,’ Gwen said brightly, with a pop-eyed expression of enthusiasm and an inane smile. She might have been speaking to a three-year-old.
Reluctantly, Kate obeyed, pulling out a beautiful silk dress in a bold, richly coloured print.
‘Oh, that’sgorgeous,’ Gwen gushed, fingering the material.
‘It’s really sweet, isn’t it?’ Julie consulted Tina.
Tina eyed the dress sceptically. ‘I didn’t know they did plus sizes,’ she said.
‘Oh, you’re not a plus size, are you, Kate?’ Julie said kindly. ‘It’s only – what? – a twelve?’
‘A fourteen,’ Kate blushed.
