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‘Noukie, here, will make a wonderful role model. Don’t you think, Jonathon?’
‘Oh, quite, quite,’ he agreed solemnly, completely oblivious of the turmoil their observations were churning within Anouk. ‘Letting them know it doesn’t matter what your background—even the glitz of Hollywood—being responsible for someone else, like a parent, can happen to anyone.’
She couldn’t focus. They were still talking but the words were becoming more and more distant and muffled. Her brain was shutting down despite her attempts to fight it. She tried to tell them that they had it all wrong, that she wasn’t anyone’s role model, but they were caught up in their excitement and weren’t listening.
She wasn’t really aware of Sol taking charge, winding the conversation up in a natural, easy way, but she knew he must have done, because the next thing she knew he was guiding her gently but firmly through the crowds without commotion. Or, certainly, no one seemed to be paying her any more or less attention than they had been before.
It was only when she found herself in a quiet anteroom that she felt herself starting to come to.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘SORRY.’ SHE BARED her teeth in what she desperately hoped would pass for a wide smile. Her stiff cheeks screamed in protest. ‘Don’t know what happened there.’
‘I think you do.’
It was soft, compassionate even. Something pulled, like a painful band, in her chest. She could deny it, but what would be the point?
‘So, Noukie Hartwood? I never knew.’
She really didn’t want to answer and yet she found herself speaking. Why was it so much easier to talk to Sol?
‘I always hated Noukie,’ she managed.
‘And the surname?’
She lifted her shoulders.
‘I shortened it to Hart when I came to the UK.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know.’ That was a lie. ‘To put some distance between myself and my mother, I guess.’
‘Because she’d died?’
‘She took an overdose,’ Anouk clarified brusquely as she shot him a sharp look. ‘I thought everyone knew that.’
‘I’m aware of the story,’ he acknowledged after a moment.
There was no need for her to say anything else, and yet she found herself speaking, her voice high and harsh.
‘Of course, she probably didn’t mean to. She had a new movie coming out and I think it was her attempt at a publicity stunt gone wrong. That’s who she was.’
She could practically feel the emotions dancing inside her. Or stomping inside her. Not that it made much difference; either way, they were having a field day.
What was she doing, bleating on?
‘Anyway.’ She shook her head back, straightening her shoulders. As if that could somehow make her feel stronger. ‘I don’t want to talk about this any longer.’
Whatever she’d expected him to say, it wasn’t the quiet observation that he came out with.
‘No one ever does, which is part of the problem. Why do you think we’re here tonight, Anouk? At this obscenely lavish ball, which costs so much per head that we could probably fund a young carers’ centre for a year?’
‘Maybe because people have cared enough to come out?’ she bit back.
‘No, because too many people as rich as most of the guests here tonight would rather throw money at an issue and get back to enjoying themselves guilt-free, than actually look at a problem and talk about it.’
She couldn’t say what it was about his tone that made her ears prick up.
