Friends & Rivals Read Free

Above the fireplace, where one might have expected to see a giant mirror or an oil painting of some illustrious ancestor, one of Catriona’s photographs hung in pride of place. A brilliant amateur snapper, her specialty was portraits, but this piece was a landscape shot of the Windrush Valley in winter. To Jack it conjured up nothing so much as the forest of Narnia; a magical, snowy wonderland too strange and beautiful to be of this earth. He’d offered to buy it countless times, but neither Ivan nor Catriona would contemplate letting it go.
    â€˜Joyce Wu seemed a little unhinged earlier,’ Jack whispered in Ivan’s ear as they made their way towards the bar. ‘Is everything OK there?’
    â€˜Joyce is fine,’ said Ivan breezily. ‘Better than fine actually. Polygram just made her a whopping two-album offer.’
    â€˜That’s not what I meant. I meant is she coping OK with the fame, the pressure? She’s still very young.’
    Ivan put a hand on Jack’s arm. ‘Jack. She’s fine. As you say, she’s young. She’s letting her hair down at a party, that’s all. It’s called having fun. You should try it some time.’
    They emerged onto a stone terrace. It was twilight now, and the view of The Rookery’s gardens with the meadows and river beyond was unutterably lovely. Jack sipped his cocktail and soaked up the beauty of it all.
Ivan’s right. It’s a party. I should try and relax.
    â€˜Speaking of unhinged clients,’ said Ivan, ‘ how’s Kendall?’
    Jack felt the tension surge back into his body. Kendall Bryce, a twenty-three-year-old pop sensation with Kim Kardashian’s body and Aretha Franklin’s voice, was probably Jester’s most famous client. She was also Jack Messenger’s personal protégée or, as he preferred to think of it, the cross he had to bear.
    â€˜Kendall is Kendall. She’s difficult.’
    â€˜Is she using?’ Ivan asked bluntly. Kendall Bryce’s cocaine problems were as well documented as her love life. She was a good kid deep down and Jack was very fond of her. But she was insecure as all hell.
    â€˜No. I’ve got her doing tests weekly. She knows if she slips up again she’s off our books for good. I meant to talk to you about that, actually. I need you to make sure she keeps up with the drug tests in London. Every Friday, without fail. And she’s not supposed to drink either.’
    â€˜Sure,’ said Ivan. But he said it with a nonchalance that made Jack profoundly uneasy. Kendall was due to perform six concerts at UK venues over the next three weeks, a thought that filled Jack with dread and relief in equal measure. Relief because it meant he got a three-week break from playing bad cop. Policing Kendall Bryce’s lifestyle was becoming a full-time job. But dread because he had no control over what she might do once let off the leash.
    â€˜Jack!’ Catriona Charles came running across the lawn, her face flushed with happiness, tendrils of dirty-blonde hair escaping from pins in all directions. Jack had a sudden flashback to Oxford, and Catriona tearing barefoot around the quad at Magdalen on the night of the ball. Give or take a few laughter lines around the eyes and the odd pound of extra weight, she hadn’t changed. ‘You made it!’
    â€˜Of course I made it. Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,’ lied Jack.
    â€˜We’ve been catching up,’ said Ivan, swapping his empty glass for a full one. ‘Discussing our most badly behaved clients.’
    â€˜Well, I hope you aren’t going to be boring and talk business all night,’ Catriona said firmly, taking Jack’s hand. ‘Come on. Loads of the old gang are here.’
    By ‘the old gang’ she meant Oxford friends. Old turned out to be the operative word. For the next hour Jack found himself shaking hands and reminiscing with a series of