Scarlet Women

others detest me and don’t bother to hide it.’

‘They’ll come around. Give it time.’

‘Ha!’ Annie put the phone down. It rang again. She snatched it up. ‘I don’t want to talk about this,’ she said.

‘You silly bitch, I’m asking you to marry me,’ said Constantine.

Annie sat down suddenly.

‘You still there?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, I’m still here. And that’s a hell of a way to make a proposal, calling me a silly bitch.’

There was a pause on the other end. ‘And now an answer would be good,’ Constantine said softly.

‘I’ll think about it,’ said Annie, and put the phone down in a state of shock.

Chapter 52

Finally opening night at the club had arrived. The club—her club—was throwing open its doors at last. There were limos all up and down the street, offloading a glittering array of celebs, and the general public were out in their masses, rubbernecking to see who they could catch a glimpse of.

The press were there, flashbulbs popping.

Annie was centre stage in a long black halter-neck dress, her dark hair swept up in a chignon, diamonds twinkling at her ears and throat as they caught the light of the strobes, the music pounding out a happy beat, champagne flowing freely. The place was buzzing. She’d done it. Annie Carter had created a place to be seen in.

‘Well, you made it,’ said Constantine at her side. His heavies were there, about six feet away. Close enough to watch; not close enough to be intrusive. Her heavies were there too; they were out in force. Squat Steve and lanky Gary were to be seen everywhere in their DJs and bow ties, moving among the crowds, checking invites and making sure everyone behaved themselves. Tony was a few feet away, keeping an eye on Annie.

‘I never thought I would,’ Annie admitted to him, having to lean in close to him to make herself heard over Thunderclap Newman’s Something In The Air.

Annie looked around, flushed with pleasure and success. The bar was heaving, the kitchen doors were swinging crazily from all the back-and-forth of the waiters and waitresses ferrying food and drinks out. The go-go dancers were gyrating wildly on their gilded platforms. The dance floor was a writhing sea of bodies.

Half of England’s victorious 1966 World Cup squad were in. She spotted Geoff Hurst and Jackie Charlton. And film stars too: Donald Sinden was in; she was sure that fabulous-looking man over there was Dirk Bogarde; and wasn’t that the beautiful Bond girl who had been painted gold…?

‘Yeah, that’s her. Shirley Eaton,’ said Constantine.

‘Friend of yours?’

‘Friend of a friend. Sean’s coming by later.’

‘Sean Connery?’

He’d drafted in a truckload of famous faces and young aspiring stunners to give the place some fizz tonight.

Constantine clinked his champagne flute against hers and smiled. ‘To Annie’s.’

Annie’s heart did a back-flip when he smiled liked that. Yeah, there were gorgeous people here, glossy and polished and elegant, but none of the men measured up to Constantine Barolli. She saw many of the women giving him interested looks and thought: Hands off, ladies—he’s mine.

‘Thought any more about my offer?’ he asked, his eyes holding hers.

‘Yeah. I have.’

‘And?’ He was gazing at her intently.

Slowly, she nodded. ‘Yeah, okay. I’ll marry you.’

Constantine grabbed her and twirled her around. Annie laughed and clung to him.

‘You sure?’ he said against her mouth when he settled her back on to the floor. ‘Not still hung up on Max?’

Annie shook her head. She’d loved Max and would cherish his memory forever—he was the father of her daughter. But he was gone. And now she was in love, absolutely and completely, with Constantine Barolli.

‘Yeah. Very sure,’ she said, and reached up and kissed him. Then she drew back. ‘You’re sure too?’

‘Oh yeah.’ He pulled her in closer and his answering kiss made her go limp. ‘Now relax and have fun. Enjoy the night: you’ve earned it. That’s an order.’

‘I’m not good at taking orders,’ she said against his mouth. ‘And I’m still hopping bloody mad that Redmond Delaney got away.’

She had the word out. He and that twisted bitch sister of his had to be found.

‘Yeah, I noticed,’ he said, and kissed her more deeply. ‘But come on. Let it go.’

Annie drew back and stared into his blue, mesmerizing eyes. ‘I love you,’ she said, stifling a pang of irritation.

How could he be so damned casual about it? She wanted to be mad at him, but she couldn’t. He was right, anyway. She had to enjoy this night; she’d worked hard enough to bring it about, after all.

‘Hey, Annie!’ It was Ellie, pushing through the crowds, all glammed up and carrying Layla in her party dress.

Layla looked a picture. Her dress was turquoise, all frills and flounces. She’d been trying it on for days. Her dark hair was tied up in bunches with matching ribbons. She had new shoes. Annie felt overwhelming pride and love when she looked at Layla. She’d invited Ruthie tonight, of course she had, but Ruthie had declined. Ruthie wasn’t a party person—she never had been—and Annie respected that.

‘Hey, who’s this little beauty?’ said Constantine, handing Annie his glass and sweeping Layla up into his arms. Layla laughed excitedly; from the first minute she had set eyes on Constantine, she had decided she loved him.

Animals and kids, thought Annie. They know instinctively who they can trust.

‘I’m Layla,’ said the little girl, taking him literally.

‘I remember you,’ he told her.

‘I remember you too! I got new shoes, look.’

Constantine admired the shoes. ‘And a new dress too, uh?’

Layla nodded.

‘You look beautiful, honey,’ he told her. ‘You wanna dance?’

Constantine carried her on to the busy dance floor and swayed around to the beat with her, Annie and Ellie watching from the sidelines. Layla was laughing fit to bust a gut. Constantine was smiling and chatting to her.

‘He’s gorgeous,’ said Ellie in Annie’s ear.

Yep, he certainly is, thought Annie. She looked at Ellie. ‘You look pretty good yourself, Ellie.’

Ellie blushed and smoothed her hands down over the long red mock-velvet dress she was wearing. The shade flattered her dark colouring to perfection. Ellie in her workaday overalls looked a mess, but this dress was the business. In this she was sumptuously curvy, and it nipped in and out in all the right places, the plunging neckline displaying her milky-white shoulders and ample cleavage, the cunning cut displaying to perfection a surprisingly small waist.

‘Do you think they’ll let Chris out soon?’ she asked Annie anxiously.

Annie nodded. ‘They’re just going through the formalities. They’ve got the real culprits, Chris’ll be out in no time.’