The Housewife and the Film Star Read online

  "She's one of them? Right." Jo drew herself up to her full height of five foot three and thrust the parcel at Sylvia. "I'm getting my whip. No one messes with my friends, and you, you vulture you, ought to be ashamed of yourself!"

  And with that Jo marched off as quickly as her arthritis would allow.

  If she hadn't been so furious herself, Sylvia would have found the expression on Kathy's face quite amusing.

  "She cannot be serious?"

  "Oh, trust me, she is, and she's lethal with that whip. Just ask the latest Jehovah's Witness who dared to berate her on her books. For your own sake, I would suggest you scarper, fast."

  "Sylvia, please, this is ridiculous. Let me in and call off of the mini bloodhound, will you? It wasn't my article. It was Evelyn's."

  "Oh for pity's sake, spare me the bull. You drag me to this club, get me dressed up to the pins, and then you not only spring it on me that Jones will be joining us, you ask me for a favor that you should never, ever have asked me for—"

  "You didn't have to do it."

  "Oh I see, now this is my fault, is it?"

  Kathy took a step back as Sylvia advanced on her, for once not caring about the curtain twitching and the photographer who was now taking pictures openly with a big grin on his face.

  "For your information, Kathy, I didn't agree to anything. I was trying to get away and was hiding from Jones, when I ran into him and then. Oh forget it. The ins and outs are none of your fucking business. The point remains you named me. How the hell could you do that? Did you not think for one minute how that would affect me and Timmy and the girls?" She put her hand up to stop Kathy from interrupting. "Don't even try to justify it. You saw an opportunity to further your career, and you took it. Friend, my ass. I have better enemies than that. Now get the hell off my path."

  The crack of Jo's whip kicking up the gravel diffused some of Sylvia's anger. Kathy took another step back, turning very pale under her makeup.

  "She wouldn't dare. There's laws against this."

  "And this path is private property, and you're trespassing. Now beat it. Sylvia does not want the likes of you here. And there are laws against spreading false rumors, too. Doesn't seem to stop you lot, though, does it? Not to mention making money out of other people's private lives."

  Another crack of the whip followed that little speech, and Kathy visibly swallowed. Then she took an envelope she had been hiding behind her back and handed it to Sylvia.

  "Oh please, he's a celebrity. It comes with the job description. They use us when it suits them. When they need to promote their films, the press is the best thing since sliced bread and then they clam up when we ask too many questions. They can't have it both ways. And Larsson is hardly as white as snow. Open your eyes, Sylv. The man is using you, trying to improve his image at your expense. I came here as your friend, whether you believe me or not."

  Again, Kathy tried to push the envelope on her.

  "You need to see these pictures, Sylv!"

  Bile rose in Sylvia's throat, even as a small part of her couldn't doubt the sincerity in the eyes of her former best friend. Kathy believed in what she was saying, and wasn't that the saddest thing of all?

  "Spare me, Kathy. Listen to yourself. These are people's lives you're talking about. Just because someone has a job that places them in the limelight doesn't give anyone the right to drag their private life through the mud. I don't care what Sven is supposed to have done. You don't fucking know him."

  "Then tell me. Tell your story, and put the record straight. We'll pay you well. I know you can do with the money, you—"

  Sylvia never did hear the rest of that particular speech. A red mist descended over her vision at just that moment, and then her fist connected with Kathy's face with a very satisfying crack. She was dimly aware of Kathy's grunt of pain and the ache in her knuckles. Then Jo was pulling her back into the house with a muffled curse. Once inside, Sylvia promptly burst into tears.

  Several cups of teas, an ice pack for her hand, and a box of tissues later, Sylvia was sitting across from Jo at her kitchen table, listening to her talking to Alicia on the phone.

  "Yes, don't worry, she's fine. Just don't think she ought to do the school run really … That's great, my dear, your mum will appreciate it … Yes, I think she ought to as well … Bye, my dear."

  "Really, Jo, I'm perfectly fine to get Timmy. There is no need to get Ali out of college."

  "Balderdash, there is every need. I bet that photographer is still lurking and probably has been joined by several others. Damned blood-suckers, they ought to get themselves a decent job. Alicia doesn't mind at all, and she said to remind you that you really need to phone Vera now, whoever she may be?"

  Jo's wise eyes studied her, and Sylvia could almost see the wheels turning in her neighbor's head.

  "Vera is Sven's PR lady. He said to ring her if things kicked off. I guess I should have done it days ago, when all those pictures came out, but I couldn't see the point. Anyway, thanks for today, Jo. I appreciate the support."

  "Ah, no worries, my dear. But if you really want to thank me then open that parcel he sent you. I really am dying to find out what's in it."

  Sylvia shook her head at the hopelessly nosy woman.

  "Jo, really, no!"

  "Ach, can't blame me for trying. Now you just get some rest, enjoy whatever is in there, and I'll see myself out."

  Her neighbor drew her into an impromptu hug, which brought fresh tears to her eyes, and she watched Jo open the front door.

  "Oh, that envelope is here. Bloody hell, that woman doesn't give up. Says it's from Kathy and that you need to read it. Want me to stick it straight in the bin?"

  "No, it's okay. I'll see what she has to say. Know thine enemy and all that."

  Her heart clenched at that thought. Kathy and she had been through a lot, but this was too much. She'd always been fiercely ambitious, but ever since she started at the gossip mag, she seemed to have undergone a personality change. The signs had been there for some time. Sylvia just hadn't wanted to acknowledge the truth to herself, but there was no going back from this. Still, as one last token of their friendship, she'd look at whatever was in that envelope and then she'd be free of her.

  But first she would look at Sven's parcel. The click of the front door signaled Jo's departure, and Sylvia took the envelope and the parcel through to the living room. It did indeed rattle slightly. If that man had sent her handcuffs, he would be speaking in a very squeaky voice after she caught up with him, that's for sure. Nonetheless, warmth spread through her, as she remembered the last time they'd used some. Sylvia rubbed her thighs together, increasing the delicious ache between her legs.

  Oh, who was she kidding? If she felt like this at the mere thought of seeing Sven again, the only thing she would do when she did was jump his bones. Pure and simple.

  Anticipation made her clumsy, and she almost dropped the thing, trying to open it. Heat spread into her cheeks when the contents spilled out, as she caught it before it hit the floor.

  Hot damn, thank God she didn't open that in front of anyone.

  Staring at her was the skimpiest set of bra and knickers she'd ever seen together with a pair of six inch killer heels in matching hot pink, and a flogger. Her breath hitched at the sight of the supple leather of the flogger, and she ran the strands through her fingers. This one would give a nice thuddy sensation rather than sting, in hands that knew how to use it. And she had no doubt that Sven would have the required experience.

  The note with it simply read:

  Hej, min sköna, I did promise to fuck you wearing nothing but these. Soon. And I thought you might appreciate the toy. S xx

  Chapter Twelve

  "Mum, don't take this the wrong way, but you look like hell. Are you sure you're up to tonight?"

  Sylvia rolled her eyes in-between violent sneezes that sent the room into a spin and forced her to hold onto the kitchen counter for support.

  "What do you think? I'm going
to have to be. There's no way I'm going to miss Timmy's big night, and I'll certainly not give Peggy the satisfaction of letting her take all the goddamn credit."

  Another coughing fit stopped her mid-rant. The pain in her chest warred with the pain in her heart. She never should have opened that blasted envelope. What had she been thinking? And what did it matter anyway? They weren't love's young dream. He'd never promised her anything beyond showing her a good time in bed, and he'd certainly done that.

  "Mum?" Alicia looked at her, concern in her eyes.

  Sylvia's misery made her reply much shorter than it would normally have been. "Quit fussing. I'll be fine. Go make sure Ruby is ready, and I'll be right there, damn it."

  Sylvia regretted the harsh words the minute they left her mouth. Before she could make amends, however, Alicia was gone. The tight set of her shoulders left a sour taste in her mother's mouth. Sylvia's hands went to the kitchen drawer of their own accord to pull out the crumpled note in Kathy's hand writing.

  I'm sorry, Sylv, but you had to see these. They put a gag order on these so that the press couldn't use them. Does this look as though he didn't do what the girl accused him of in the papers? Is it a coincidence she was paid a huge amount of cash to shut up and leave town? Think about it, Sylv. And the others were taken yesterday in Sweden. No idea who she is. But they sure look cozy. Wake up, he is using you, and when you're ready to talk you know where I am!

  Swallowing the bile rising in her throat, she screwed the damning piece of paper up and threw it in the bin. That's what she should have done in the first place. Instead she'd phoned Vera and smiled sweetly at Timmy and Ali, when they got home as though nothing was amiss.

  With her fingers clutched around that blasted envelope as though her life depended on it, she'd entered the hallowed halls of Vera's prestigious PR firm yesterday. She'd felt woefully inadequate in her jeans and simple top, facing the elderly woman in her no-nonsense business suit. Shivering from head to toe in the air conditioned office after she'd been caught in an unexpected downpour, she'd been all too aware of the stares and whispers as she'd made her way along the open plan office.

  Vera's hand shake had been firm, her smile kind, and she'd sent her assistant off to fetch some warm towels and a hot chocolate to help Sylvia warm up.

  "It's lovely to meet you at last. I've heard so much about you."

  Heat had crept into Sylvia's cheeks together with righteous indignation, and her silly heart had clenched painfully at her next words. "I can see why Sven likes you. You're very different and just what's needed to help him improve his image."

  "What's that supposed to mean exactly?"

  "Oh, I mean it as compliment. One reason the papers have gone so crazy about all this. Young widow swept off her feet by notorious playboy. You couldn't make it up. Of course it would help if you weren't seen punching reporters, but no worries. I can smooth that over. How is your hand by the way? It looks sore. I told Sven right from the start it's all about damage limitation, and so far so good, it's working well."

  "What? It's fine, what do you mean damage limitation?"

  Vera hadn't answered that whispered question, however. Instead she'd carried on chattering in a far too animated voice, looking extremely pleased with herself.

  "Yes, as far as arrangements go, this is working beautifully. The fans love the fact that you're not a celebrity. It makes him look human and approachable. It's just what I've been trying to achieve for the last six months. Now if only I could get him to agree to a few staged photo ops, but he's so blooming stubborn about things like this. But never mind, you're here now, and you look a level headed young lady, so perhaps we can convince him together, what do you think? You'll be reimbursed for your troubles of course. Sven is a generous man. I've already set up an expense account for you and—"

  Sylvia had held up her hand to stop the woman's chatter.

  "Stop, just stop already. What arrangement are you referring to? I'm not here for any money. I came because Sven asked me to see you if the press got too much, that's all, and I thought you should see these."

  She'd had to force herself to not throw the envelope at Vera. Instead she'd put it down on her massive desk very carefully, and then walked up to the wall made of glass. She hadn't really seen the fantastic views over London's docklands. Instead she'd willed her heart to slow down and her hands to stop shaking. Had this whole thing been a lie? Had it just been a carefully orchestrated plot by the two of them to make Sven look good in the papers?

  Vera's sharp intake of breath as she'd opened the envelope had not been reassuring in the slightest.

  "Where did you get these from, and has anyone else seen them?"

  "I haven't shown them to anyone, but I'm sure Kathy must have copies somewhere. Kathy Simpson, works with Evelyn Jones at Whisper?"

  "Yes I'm familiar with … well I shan't call them reporters, that's for sure. Not entirely sure whether they're even human. This Kathy is a friend of yours, I seem to recall?"

  "Not anymore she isn't, but that's not really the issue here, is it? I've no idea what arrangement you're referring to. Sven never mentioned any arrangement."

  "Ah, me and my big mouth. I just assumed. Well, that changes things."

  Vera had cocked her head to one side, a small smile on her face. She'd studied her as though she was some interesting species of insect under a microscope, and Sylvia's hackles had risen.

  "What the hell do you mean interesting?"

  "Tell me, Sylvia, what do you know about his return to Sweden?"

  "I fail to see what that has to do with anything."

  "Humor me, please."

  "I've no intention of sharing his reasons for going back with anyone. They're personal."

  Vera's answering low whistle had been accompanied by a thoughtful smile.

  "Interesting. Well, I never. Who'd have thought it?" Shaking her head to herself, she'd put one hand on Sylvia's arm. "You do know these pictures are not what they seem."

  "You would say that. It's your job to cover for the man."

  Sylvia hadn't been able to help the slight wobble in her voice. Damn it all, she was not going to cry over this; she just wasn't.

  "This is true, but there really isn't anything to cover here. I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions over your reasons for being here. Sven will hit the roof when he finds out what I've said. Please forget it, and don't hold it against him. The fault was all mine. You did the right thing by bringing these photos to my attention. I'll deal with any fallout. Now let me arrange transport home for you. It's still raining out there. Any more problems with the press, ring me, and I'll sort it."

  Sylvia had been grateful for the chauffeured ride home, but she'd been sneezing violently by the time she'd arrived back at her house. The long soak in the bath had not been enough to stop her coming down with a heavy summer cold.

  "Mum, we're ready."

  She took a deep breath or at least as deep as her bruised lungs would let her and made herself walk to the front door. This was Timmy's time, and she'd smile and get through it. Maybe seeing Timmy in action would help her to finally burn the image of Sven kissing another woman out of her mind's eye. So much for grieving in Sweden. It hadn't taken five minutes for him to find another distraction. Damn the man to hell and back.

  ****

  Sven looked at his watch for the umpteenth time since stepping off the plane. He was going to fucking miss it at this rate.

  "Step on it, George. What's taking so goddamned long?"

  His driver's smiling brown eyes connected with his in the rear view mirror.

  "What do you think I'm doing, Sven? Don't go all masterly on me. We won't be getting to your girl at all if we get stopped for speeding or end up in a ditch."

  "Mind your fucking place, George, and she's not my girl." But fuck, if that didn't sound good.

  "If you say so, Sven, but I can't remember the last time I've seen you in such a state about a bit of sweet pussy."

  Sven's warning
snarl in response elicited a rumble of laughter from his old friend.

  "Just saying, good to see, now hold on. I know a short cut from here. It's going to get bumpy."

  Half an hour later they screeched to a halt in front of the old building that housed Norton Prep School. The place reeked of old money, and Sven had a hard time picturing his little Hard Head in these surroundings, even if it was in the more informal nursery setting. There he went again. Timmy was no more his than Sylvia was, but he seemed to have developed a possessive streak a mile long where that lady was concerned. Pushing those disturbing thoughts firmly to one side, he concentrated on his surroundings instead. Norton Prep had an excellent reputation for fostering each individual child's artistic talent, as well as sitting at the top of the league tables, but it wasn't cheap. Sylvia had to be struggling with the fees, even if Timmy had managed to collar one of the sought-after scholarships.

  "Welcome to Norton Prep."

  The sing song welcome of the two senior girls shook him out of his musings. Giggling like only two schoolgirls can, they watched him through wide eyes, blushing profusely.

  "Girls, pull yourselves together." The cool female voice brought about an instant change in the girls’ demeanor. "You will make our guest here think the school has no standards. How can I help you, Mr.—?"

  "Larsson." Sven extended his own hand. He smiled at the sharp intake of breath from the petite, immaculately dressed woman in front of him. She pulled herself together, however, the professional smile back in place, in record time.

  "Of course you are. What can we do for you? Ms. Pierson here, I'm the deputy head."

  Okay then, time to pull out all the stops. Giving her his most dazzling smile, he let his hand linger a minute too long.

  "I'm aware I'm not invited, but a friend's son is performing in the concert, and it would mean a lot to both of them if I could surprise them. I'm hoping I haven't missed it. He's in the nursery performance."

  "I see. Well, there will not be any seats because we're booked out and—"