Eva sighed, she couldn’t tell Charles. “You have nothing to apologise for. When do you start the madness again? I’m not asking for Charles. I’m just checking you’re having enough of a break in between.”
“I’m not leading the selection process next time. I’ve done my share.”
“You’re retiring?”
“I’m effecting a gradual stepping away in the buzz speak. Then I’ll be free to see my god-daughter whenever I want. You’ll do Mathias proud tonight, Eva.”
She blinked hard; she hoped so.
“You getting out, love?” The cabbie’s question told Eva she was taking too long scoping out the front of the hotel. Poisonous cake, if that was what had killed Eric, was subtler than an assassin’s bullet. She was probably safe to march right up the middle of Kensington High Street, but getting out of the cab and inside the hotel foyer was hard enough.
“Eva, Eva Janssen!”
She looked for who shouted for her before she thought not to. The woman didn’t look like a threat, but the cake hadn’t either.
“Amelia Moore,” shorter even than Eva, young, a messenger bag slung across her body. She jabbed a phone between them, its red recording button a warning. “What’s going on at the Every Drop sites?” Sites? “What happened to you?”
The phone waved a circle in front of Eva’s face.
“What do you mean ‘what’s going on’?”
“People are falling sick. I thought your water was going to be their salvation.”
“I don’t have the scientific data—”
“You don’t need scientific data to see that you’re poisoning them.”
“We’re not poisoning anyone, but I won’t comment beyond that until I know the full picture.”
“If you’re giving me a ‘no comment’, I’ll just print that you don’t care.”
Amelia Moore had a lot to learn about interviewing if she thought going low right away would get her what she wanted. ‘You get more flies with honey’, Eva’s father’s words flickered through her mind. It was almost funny. The night affirming his legacy and here she was being roasted by a young reporter.
“Research me, it’ll take you less than a minute to see how much I care. That’s why I won’t comment until I know the truth. Speculation and innuendo might sell articles, but the truth is what matters.” Eva made for the lift, dogged by Amelia. “The event I’m going to is ticket only.”
“That’s okay, I’ll wait until you come out.”
Making the guests feel scrutinised and uncomfortable wasn’t the way to get them to open their wallets.
“Why don’t you come to my office tomorrow morning and I’ll give you your comment then.”
“An exclusive?” Amelia looked as though Eva had offered her a promotion.
“Until I know what I’m dealing with, I can’t promise that, but I will give you first shot at this, if it’s even a story.”
No time for Eva to wonder if she’d sold her soul, just enough after going through the reassuringly tight security, to fail to reach Charles again. If he was angry she hadn’t backed him up that morning, now was the time for him to let that go. She needed him here, smiling, talking the science.
Everything in the ballroom looked perfect. Eva toasted her staff her thanks just as the guests began to arrive and they dispersed to be perfect hosts. The security process nicely staggered the arrivals into the pre-function room so she had time to mentally cross reference every face she greeted.
“Eva.”
She turned around. From the Chairman of Every Drop’s Board’s expression, she could have been forgiven for thinking she’d walked into the room, but her dress had stayed outside.
“Hello, Stuart. Pleased to meet you, Felicity. I’m Eva.” Stuart’s new wife shook Eva’s hand as though her injuries were contagious. She reminded Eva of a wren, tiny, unobtrusive, unnoticeable even, on the periphery. Stuart was more like a hawk. His grey curly hair was still thick, but age had not been kind to his nose, which now dominated his face, ruddy with the pay-out from long-term drinking. Much taller than both women, he looked down at Eva, staring at her face longer than the doctor who’d stitched her up. “What on Earth happened?”
“Nothing serious. Did you see my interview on ‘Your Good Morning’?”
Perhaps not the best time to question him on his alleged quote, but at least here, in front of this crowd, he’d have to answer her something. She gestured to the enormous bar behind them, wanting to help that along. “What would you like?”
“Someone else to do the keynote. You can’t do it looking like that.” Stuart’s hand wafted between them.
“It’s about what I say, not what I look like.”
“There’s an image commensurate with Every Drop.” He smoothed the lapel of his tuxedo, tailored well enough to make it less obvious he’d put on more weight. “The right one makes the donors feel more at ease. You have to know how to court them.”
Clearly she did, they couldn’t turn around without hitting a peer, celebrity or captain of industry. Lord and Lady Butler meandering behind her were an ideal foil.
“Lord and Lady Butler.” Eva said as though surprised they were there. “How lovely to see you.”
“Oh, my goodness. What happened to you?” Lady Butler asked.
“I had a disagreement with the pavement. It’s fine, it looks worse than it is.”
“You’re very brave to go out looking like that.” Her hand flew to her carefully maintained jawline. Her face might have been as aghast as Stuart’s if it had still been able to form any emotional expression.
“So tell me, Lady Butler, which lots do you have your eye on?”
“Well, I am rather partial to the ‘have your portrait painted’. I have just the spot for it in our drawing room, don’t I?”
“Yes indeed, it would look splendid in the drawing room.” Her husband replied.
“Did you notice the opportunity to be featured in a spread in the House Beautiful Yearbook? It would be rather lovely to have your portrait in one of those photos.” Eva said it innocently.
“Yes, it would.” Lady Butler’s face tried to light up. “I want that one too.”
Eva’s work there was done. “It’s
