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Paula had thought about filing divorce papers there and then, but when news reached her that Liz was trying to raise the money to buy Skin Plus, she knew she had to put her plans on hold. In just a few months time, the Asgills – and, by extension, William, would be more flush with cash. She had no idea of the figures involved, but surely it would be enough to buy a modest little second home? And if William refused to make life more comfortable for her … well, there was more money in the pot for a divorce settlement.
Karl was collecting this table plans and files together and looked ready to leave. ‘Let’s talk tomorrow, darling,’ he said.
Paula touched her heavily perfumed cheek against his, quickly ushering him towards the door. She had a Shiatsu massage at Skin Plus in forty minutes and it couldn’t come a moment too soon.
‘Mrs Asgill, you have another visitor.’ Paula rounded angrily on Maia, her maid, who stood nervously at the bedroom door.
‘Who on earth is it?’ She tapped her gold Cartier watch. ‘I’m late for my Shiatsu.’
‘Sorry madam,’ Maia said, ‘but it’s Tess Garrett from Asgills. She says it’s urgent.’
Cursing, Paula walked through to the hallway to see Tess Garrett taking off her beige Burberry mackintosh. Rather presumptuous, thought Paula with irritation: did these Brits have no manners?
‘I’m afraid I’m on my way out,’ said Paula briskly, gesturing toward the door.
‘Sorry Paula,’ said Tess, not moving. ‘I need to speak to you. Urgently.’
There was a sobriety to the publicist’s voice that put Paula immediately on edge. Surely nothing had happened to William or the family? No, Tess Garrett wouldn’t be delivering that sort of news. Had she heard about Paula’s visit to Charles Nicholls? She pushed that thought from her head; the Scythe’s whole business demanded discretion.
Paula pointed towards the living room, glancing down at her watch again. ‘I can spare a few moments,’ she sighed.
Tess settled on to the sofa and waited until Paula was sitting opposite her. ‘I’ve just come back from South Carolina,’ she began.
‘How nice,’ smiled Paula thinly.
‘I was there to meet someone called Ted Kressler. You wouldn’t know him, but you do know his ex–wife. Her name was Marion Quinn.’
At the mention of those two words, Paula felt as if she’d stepped off a cliff. She sat motionless, unable to breathe. Tess saw her reaction and nodded.
‘Yes, I know everything, Paula,’ she said quietly. ‘He told me everything.’
Paula closed her eyes. This had to be a dream. A nightmare. It couldn’t be happening, not after all this time.
‘Have you seen Violet?’ she whispered. It was obvious there was no point in lying to Tess. Even if she was bluffing – and why would she be?, she was working for the family. She was on their side, wasn’t she?
‘No, I haven’t seen Violet,’ replied Tess. She opened her bag and pulled out a photograph, handing it to Paula. ‘I don’t know where she is. But this is what that man Kressler gave me.’
Paula took the photograph of Violet and Marion, her hands trembling so violently that she had to put it down. She covered her mouth with her hand. Her fingers smelt of candles and chocolate, of her new life, the life she was meant to have. Feeling warm tears trickle down her cheeks, she began to breathe deeply, distant memories she dearly wished to leave in the past, floating to the surface.
‘Violet is in a nursing home in North Carolina,’ said Paula, licking her dry lips. ‘Her new parents wrote me and told me that she needed constant care a few years ago. I guess she’ll still be there. She’ll be fifteen now.’
She saw Tess Garrett’s disapproving expression. Goddamn limey bitch, she though
t, what gives her the right to judge me? She has no idea what my life was like. And all this because Marion Quinn’s husband had crawled out of the woodwork.
‘How bad was Violet’s condition?’ asked Tess.
‘She has severe microcephaly,’ said Paula grandly, like someone comparing the models of their Gulfstream jets. ‘It is a life–threatening disease.’
A chill suddenly ran through Paula as it occurred to her that she didn’t actually know whether Violet was alive or dead. It had been a long time since Violet’s adoptive parents – a professional couple called Kate and Don something, Richards perhaps? – had written her a short, polite letter assuring her that they were getting the best care for their new daughter. Violet’s had been an open adoption, meaning that Paula could keep in touch with her daughter, although, as the years passed, Paula had felt increasingly uncomfortable with the arrangement. Given the choice, she would have closed that particular chapter of her life forever.
‘I never wanted this to happen,’ whispered Paula, pressing her fingertips into her cheeks. ‘I was eighteen years old when I had Violet. I was called Pauline then; I bet you didn’t know that either,’ she said, her voice hard and brittle.
‘Violet’s dad was a summer fling I had after high school, a construction worker on some development job in Nowheresville. He had left town long before I even found out I was pregnant. I knew something was wrong the second I held Violet in my arms.’ She looked up at Tess, her eyes pleading. ‘I had only just left school,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t ready for a child, let alone one that was severely disabled.’
‘So Violet was put in foster care?’ prompted Tess.
‘I couldn’t cope,’ said Paula bitterly, her anger at the situation bubbling to the surface. ‘My mum wasn’t any help. She was ill by then. So Violet went in to the system and, thank God, she went to Marion Quinn, a woman in Greensboro who took in a lot of difficult children. I went over to see her and she seemed to really care. But then Marion got sick and by then I was in New York, modelling, so Violet was formally put up for adoption. I mean, who would make a better parent? Me? A twenty year old, or adoptive parents who were desperate for kids? It was a better life for her.’
