The City Affair Read online

  The City Affair

  Helen Crossfield

  © Helen Crossfield 2014

  Helen Crossfield has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  First published in 2014 by Endeavour Press Ltd.

  KAZZIEKAT@dpgroup

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 - January 2007

  Chapter 2 - Christmas Eve 2007

  Chapter 3 - The End

  Chapter 4 - The Hospital

  Chapter 5 - Bernard Marshall

  Chapter 6 - Boxing Day

  Chapter 7 - The Truth

  Chapter 8 - Digesting The Truth

  Chapter 9 - Funeral Arrangements

  Chapter 10 - The Final Send Off

  Chapter 11 - Refreshments

  Chapter 12 - London

  Chapter 13 - Before The Party

  Chapter 14 - The Party

  Chapter 15 - Getting In Touch

  Chapter 16 - Daphne Lu

  Chapter 17 - Fettuccine And Mushrooms

  Chapter 18 - Easter

  Chapter 19 - London

  Chapter 20 - Simon’s Revenge

  Chapter 21 - Forgiveness

  Chapter 22 - Film Night

  Chapter 23 - September 2008

  Chapter 24 - Cameron McKenna

  Chapter 25 - The Beginning

  Extract from The Italian Affair by Helen Crossfield

  Chapter 1 - January 2007

  “Oops! Sorry!” Simon exclaimed as he clumsily stepped on her toes on the Sunday evening Eurostar from Waterloo to Paris. Tish immediately looked up, more out of curiosity than pain, and in that moment she knew something of significance would happen between them.

  “Bad luck, I think I must be sitting next to you. Can I squeeze past?” Simon asked, smiling down at her with a pair of intelligent dark brown eyes before peering at his travel ticket and then back at the number on the seat next to Tish, just to be sure.

  Under normal circumstances the disturbance would have annoyed her. She wanted to spend the journey chatting to her father, who’d momentarily left his seat.

  But rather than roll her eyes, Tish found herself wanting to reply. “Sure,” she grinned. “Just let me move my bags out of the way so you don’t have to squeeze too hard. I’ve brought way too many. I always do.”

  “Thanks,” Simon replied mischievously, as he took off a beautifully tailored blue jacket with a deep purple silk lining before easing himself past her to get into his seat. “Are you going to Paris on business?”

  “God, no,” Tish responded sitting back down, surprised at the question. “I’m not even in business. I’m travelling with my father, who is. He’ll be back any minute. I’m going to Paris with him. His treat.”

  “Lucky you,” Simon chortled as he settled into his seat, creating a startling amount of static between them. “Can I ask what you are you being treated for or is that a question too far?”

  “There is a reason, but I’m not sure I should I tell you. We’ve only just met,” Tish laughed, tossing her long curly black hair over her left shoulder before looking out of the window onto the station platform thinking about how best to respond.

  “Oh, go on,” Simon persisted. “You know you want to.”

  “Well, ok then,” Tish beamed. “But only because I’m dying to tell anyone who’ll listen. I’m an actress and I’m just about to start filming my first movie, albeit a decidedly low-budget one. It’s called Double Lives. Dad’s so chuffed he insisted I came with him to Paris before it all gets too crazy.”

  “I’m star struck,” Simon teased, his perfect brown eyes playing with hers. Interested by her answer, he turned his body towards her. “What’s your name? I hope you’re not really famous and that I’ve just gone and blown it by not recognising you.”

  “Tish Thorpe,” she replied, looking him straight in the eyes. “And don’t worry I’m not famous at all. Well not yet anyway. And you are?”

  “Simon Grealy, and not famous either, and probably never will be,” Simon answered oozing confidence and charm. “I’m a fund manager from London. Well actually, to tell you the whole truth, I’m from Hampshire originally. How dull does that sound in comparison? I need to spice things up. Do you fancy a game of cards?”

  “What do you mean?” Tish asked, taken aback at the randomness of his question. “That’s the most unusual thing anyone’s ever asked me on a train. Why do you suddenly want to play cards?”

  “Because, I get bored easily on train journeys, and because I need to get even with you,” Simon countered. “You can tell so much about a person just by how they deal their hand. It’s a fascinating science.”

  “Well, you’ll get on well with dad then,” Tish laughed. “He loves playing cards and games generally, especially at Christmas. And, by some sort of strange coincidence, he’s also a fund manager. That’s him coming towards us now holding the water bottle and cups. The buffet car won’t be open yet, but he’ll have charmed someone.”

  “Ah, a man after my own heart,” Simon replied, standing up again. “And, talking about people being famous, even if it’s only in their own lunchtimes, I’m sure I already know him by reputation. It’s hard to pick up a trade mag these days without seeing him being quoted in it. I can’t say I always agree with some of his comments but….”

  “Dad,” Tish shouted out along the carriage as her father walked towards them. “I want you to meet Simon Grealy. It’s your lucky day. He’s a fund manager and he’s looking for someone to play cards with.”

  “Nice to meet you,” her father replied in a strong booming voice whilst stretching out his hand to Simon. “Richard Thorpe. I see you’ve got the cards out ready to play. I like your style.”

  “Oh, yes,” Simon said. “It’s too good an opportunity to miss, and even better now I know you actually like cards and I don’t even have to bully you into playing.”

  “I see. It’s like that is it?” Richard replied, laughing at Simon’s intensity. “Well I’d love a game, but before we do, let’s get the supper bag out. I’ve had a long day and I’m starving. I think we’ve got some smoked salmon sandwiches, cake and coffee somewhere in that luggage haven’t we Tish?”

  “That sounds hugely organised and is making my mouth water just thinking about it. I’m very impressed,” Simon interjected, as he looked hungrily at the bags. “Don’t tell me you’re an actress and a Cordon Bleu cook. How does that work?”

  “Don’t be silly,” Tish teased as she ferreted around in one of the bags on the floor. “It has nothing to do with me. It’s mum’s idea. She loves cooking and always makes us a picnic when we travel. It’s a Thorpe thing. She doesn’t trust the food you get on trains or planes. And don’t worry ‘cos there’ll be plenty for you, she always makes far too much.”

  “Blimey,” Simon said, “She sounds awesome.”

  “Yep, she is actually.” Tish smiled smugly as she took a large piece of Tupperware out of one of the rucksacks. “Ah, and she’s also put a tablecloth in here too, so before you start dealing the cards, I’ll put that on the table.”

  “Classy,” Simon said, slightly bemused as he watched Tish unfold a crisp linen tablecloth and lay it over the table before serving perfect triangles of brown bread filled with smoked salmon together with delicately cut slices of fruit cake and coffee from a National Trust flask.

  After they’d finished eating and playing cards, Simon and her father had spoken about the markets and gossiped about a sizeable collection of mutual acquaintances. They’d got on famously.

  As the train pulled into Gare du Nord, Simon gave Richard his business card and told Tish he would call and take her out for a drink in London one evening.

  That night
, as Tish and her father sat in an expensive Parisian restaurant with extravagant murals on the ceiling eating Michelin Star food, Richard Thorpe had volunteered his approval. “Simon’s a really nice guy, darling. Promise me you’ll go out with him when he calls? He reminds me of how I was when I was younger. Full of expectation and unashamed ambition.”

  And that’s how Tish met Simon, a simple chance meeting on the Eurostar to Paris in late January 2007.

  It provided a catalyst for a sequence of events which were all somehow interconnected, an evening when none of them could have predicted the exact hand they would be dealt over the next twelve months.

  Chapter 2 - Christmas Eve 2007

  Each front door told a different story, Tish thought as she buried her face into a multi-coloured woolly scarf, hurrying home through the village of Levenhurst with the familiar line of over-wintered cherry trees sprinkled with a fine dusting of snow towards the Thorpe family Christmas.

  The biting cold stung her cheeks as she considered the routine of the next few hours.

  There would be the chopping and peeling of carrots, potatoes, parsnips and sprouts and the basting of the goose, all freshly delivered from Frank’s Farm Shop. Her father’s bad jokes followed by gales of laughter and the popping of champagne corks as their family unit of three made the final preparations for Christmas Day.

  Later, after they’d eaten the ‘Thorpe Chilli Con Carne’, they would choose the wines for the next day and the condiments and then wander into the dining room to dress the table.

  They would start with the cream linen table cloth and then add the silver cutlery, the bone china Christmas dinner service decorated with miniature poinsettia, the Fortnum & Mason crackers and finally the napkins tied loosely with moss-green silk bows.

  Midnight mass, home-made miniscule mince pies and hot chocolate would provide the Christmas Eve finale.

  As Tish got closer to home, she smiled at the sight of small white fairy lights twinkling brightly from two immaculately manicured holly trees, standing either side of the entrance to the imposing Thorpe family home.

  A huge Christmas wreath decorated the front door, carefully adorned with crimson red velvet bows, woodland cones, cinnamon sticks, small gold baubles and slices of dried orange.

  Mother’s heavenly touch at work again, Tish thought as she walked up the path and got a whiff of Norwegian fir intermingled with exotic mandarin oils.

  “Hello darling,” Pamela called out as soon as she heard the front door opening.

  An air of excitement and anticipation hung in the hallway, as her mother rushed forwards to greet her in a veil of Chanel No 5, wearing an expensive pair of tailored beige trousers and a cream silk blouse.

  “I‘m so glad you got here before the snow sets in,” she continued, pushing her beautifully coiffured shoulder length strawberry blond hair behind her ears whilst speaking earnestly about the weather. “The forecast is awful. I was so worried you wouldn’t get here in time.”

  “Mum,” Tish said as she rolled her eyes and shook fine particles of snow from her hair. “I’m fine. Please stop fussing! It’s not that bad out there, seriously.”

  “Well it’s going to be,” scolded Pamela as she kissed her much missed only child and smiled indulgently at having her home. “Take your wellies off quickly and come through into the kitchen. You’re absolutely freezing. Go over there and thaw out in front of the Aga whilst I make us something warm to drink.”

  “Where’s dad?” Tish asked, looking around the kitchen expecting him to be there. “I was hoping to find him hard at work in the kitchen. His car’s in the drive. Don’t tell me he’s working on Christmas Eve?”

  “Well sort of. He’s in the garden studio catching up with emails,” Pamela replied sheepishly.

  “For God’s sake,” Tish exclaimed in disbelief, whilst untying a huge pile of long dark curly hair that sat bundled on top of her head. “It’s been like this all year. I thought you’d banned him from doing any work over the holidays, especially as he’s hardly been at home recently.”

  “Well you know what your father’s like,” Pamela responded with a wry smile. “Work has to come first. I can hardly stop him, but he promised me he’d come in as soon as you got here.”

  “At least that’s something then,” Tish said with an undertone of sarcasm, blowing into her hands to get the circulation going as she moved away from the front of the Aga and slumped down onto the kitchen sofa. “Ah, it’s so nice to be home mum. It feels like an eternity since I was here last.”

  “Well, it’s good to have you here. You’ve not been home for a good few months,” Pamela replied, trying her best not to sound too disapproving. “I was trying to think of when it was last night. It must have been the end of August. You were in the throes of filming Double Lives and we had a bit of a celebration in the garden. I don’t think we’ve seen you since.”

  “I know, it’s been crazy busy,” Tish said, her eyes lighting up at the mention of the film. “But so exciting, I mean, sometimes I can’t believe this whole film thing is actually happening to me.”

  “It’s been a roller coaster year for you and we’re so proud of everything you’ve been doing, darling,” Pamela enthused as she took two bone china mugs out of the cupboard. “Let me make the tea and then you can tell me all about it before Dad comes in.”

  “Touch wood, everyone seems really pleased with how the whole thing is turning out,” Tish gushed, grinning from ear to ear as she ruffled her hands through her hair. “Long hours of not actually doing much and getting cold is what it’s really like being on a film set but I’m not complaining, I mean it’s just so brilliant to have got the part, and the director seems to be genuinely happy with it and with me.”

  “Are you allowed to tell us more about what happens?” Pamela asked. “You’ve gone very quiet on the film lately, no gossip on the phone, nothing!”

  “I just want to keep it a surprise for you both,” Tish laughed. “What I can’t keep to myself is the fact I’m married to Cameron McKenna, who I have to say is as gorgeous in real life as he looks on the big screen. Even though he goes off and has an affair, at least he married me! I mean how many women can say that?”

  “About three if you believe what’s in the papers,” Pamela chuckled as she handed Tish one of the mugs filled with Whittard’s Spice Imperial tea. “Did it all work out in the end with him being cast at the last minute?”

  “Yeah,” Tish said. “I mean they always wanted him in the lead role, but didn’t think they could get him. When he suddenly came free no-one could believe their luck, particularly me!”

  “It’s wonderfully exciting for you to be working so closely with someone so famous and handsome,” Pamela laughed. “I can’t wait for next year when we’ll finally get to see you and him on the big screen.”

  “He looks quite a bit like dad close up, especially the piercing blue eyes,” Tish giggled. “Although I’m certainly not going to tell dad I think so! I got so lucky with this part I still have to pinch myself every morning. I mean I wasn’t even first choice. I only got it because Ally Beale pulled out at the last minute and—”

  “Don’t think like that darling,” Pamela interrupted. “What matters is that you got through the auditions, got the part in the end and that you’re working with some big names. Hopefully it’ll prove the vital foot on the first rung.”

  “I know, I’m just…I’m just wary, that’s all,” Tish said trying to calm herself down. “I don’t want to get too wound up in it all in case everything falls on its face and I fail at the final hurdle. That would be just too tragic for words.”

  “I’m sure everything will work out just fine,” Pamela said reassuringly as she turned to the window before gasping in disbelief. “Good grief Tish, I’m going to have to tell your father to come inside. Look at the snow. It’s really starting to come down heavily.”

  “So you weren’t exaggerating the forecast,” Tish exclaimed as she joined her mother at the kitchen window
and watched as thousands of magical white snowflakes flurried and swirled in front of them. “We’re definitely going to get snowed in if it continues like this.”

  “I warned you it would get much worse, but it looks so beautiful out there,” Pamela responded, squeezing her daughter’s hand, excited to have her safely at home. “It looks like it’s going to be the first white Christmas in a few years. Now, before we get too engrossed in your glamorous new life, let’s just deal with the practical for a few minutes. Did you manage to park your car in the village?”

  “Certainly did,” Tish sighed, sounding bored at the mundane line of questioning. “In fact, I obeyed your orders exactly. I managed to get one of the last spots on the main road just before it branches out towards the farm, next to the Old Oast House.”

  “Oh, well done darling,” Pamela exclaimed. “That’s by far the best place to park because at least one of us will be able to get a car out if we need to. Did you meet anyone in the village?”

  “Yes, and no prizes for guessing who,” Tish retorted, shaking her head at the thought. “Just as I was getting out of the car, I bumped into Bernard Marshall who said we could be snowbound in the village for days.”

  “Ah, I thought you might meet him,” Pamela laughed. “Dear Bernard is always looking out for us all. He rang up this morning and told me about the forecast and to tell you to park up there, bless him. He was very worried about you getting back to London if you needed to, what with the filming and everything.”

  “Why is he so interested in what we all get up to?” Tish said. “I mean, hasn’t he got quite enough to be preoccupied with? I know he’s technically retired and has just lost his wife but I would have thought his legendary bee-keeping amounted to a full-time job.”

  “I’m not sure how much bee-keeping needs doing in the winter Tish,” Pamela said with a look of amusement at her daughter’s incomprehension of village life. “Some people are interested in the welfare of others you know! When you live somewhere as small as this there are always going to be people like Bernard around. You need a rich diversity within a community to keep it ticking over.”