Rules Of The Game

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‘What on earth gave you that idea?’ Gavin shot his sister an exasperated look. ‘Why do I get the impression that you’ve got a blind spot where Jay Courtland’s concerned? It can’t be because you harboured a youthful adoration for him—you were never a football fan, so what is it?’

‘Nothing,’ Vanessa lied shortly. How could she explain to her down to earth brother that everything she had read in the national press about Jay Courtland before he announced his return to Clarewell irritated her? He was a rich tycoon, a man who lived and played hard; who made no secret of his orphanage upbringing; or the fact that he had had to fight hard for all that he now owned. She had visualised him as something of a rough diamond; a man who carried his game-playing from the football field to the boardroom and who was worlds removed from the sort of man who would appeal to her. Her tastes ran to men who shared her love of music; the theatre and the other arts; men whose idea of enjoyment was a day spent at the National Gallery as opposed to Wembley Football Stadium; a man who did not make sport and being ‘one of the boys’ his Gods. In short, a man as far removed from Jay Courtland as it was possible to get. If she had to visualise a career for this mythical man it would be as a doctor, or a solicitor, something that demanded exercise of the intellect rather than the body. If she explained any of this to Gavin he would doubtless accuse her of being silly, even perhaps of being faintly snobbish, but there was nothing of this in her feelings, it was simply that men like Jay Courtland were not her type. She did not believe for one moment that his generosity to his home town was purely philanthropic. How could it be when one took into account his reputation?

‘Look Van,’ Gavin began with brotherly impatience. ‘You’ve got it all wrong. Jay intends to keep the team a local one; in fact he’s determined on that; he wants others to have the chance he had; the chance to use their skill on the football field to escape the near poverty he had to endure as a child. That’s why he’s financing the new sports and leisure complex; that’s why he’s re-equipping the local team to such a high standard.’

‘And of course his generosity has nothing to do with Supersport, I suppose?’ Vanessa asked sardonically. ‘Honestly Gavin you must think I’m a real dunce.’

‘I’m not denying that he will want to make Supersport as successful as all his other companies, but you can’t use that to detract from what he is doing for the town. If you discount everything else there are still the jobs that Supersport will bring to the town when he expands it as he intends to do.’

‘By fermenting a good deal of national public interest in his ex-local football team? By kitting out them and all other local would-be athletes for free?’

‘Okay, so there is something in it for him, and he can be a hard man, but he’s got reason to be Van. Abandoned by his mother when he was five years old; never knowing his real father, because his mother never married him and she died before he was old enough to talk to him about him; living in an institution … He got a place at university, he could have gone to Oxford you know, but he couldn’t afford to support himself while he was there, even with his scholarship so—–’

‘He became a footballer instead, swopping graceful spires for the adulation of his fans? You’re breaking my heart …’

‘As you’ll break mine, if I lose the promise of this contract. You will go and see him won’t you Van?’

‘Do I have much option?’ she asked her brother dryly, adding, ‘Yes I’ll go, and if I were you I’d check up on the whereabouts of our real model.’

There was no point in putting off the evil hour unnecessarily. Gavin told her that Jay’s aide had said he could be found at Supersport, but just as she opened the studio door Gavin yelled after her, ‘Van, go home and get changed first. If you go dressed like that they’ll never let you in the place …’

Suppressing an angry grimace Vanessa stepped out into the sunlit street, heading for the battered Volvo estate both she and Gavin shared.

It didn’t take her long to drive to Clare Lodge, the home her parents had bought shortly after their marriage. Set in the rolling countryside of the Cheviots the lodge commanded almost idyllic views of the hills. The approach road was unmade up and pot holed, but the Volvo was too used to it to do more than protest mildly, unlike the expensive foreign make sportscar which she only narrowly managed to avoid as it came racing down the lane towards her. Only by swerving almost into the ditch was there room for its driver to get past, and Vanessa had a blurred impression of dark hair before her attention was concentrated on maintaining control of her own vehicle.

The lane led only to Clare Lodge and the Manor House beyond, and she frowned wondering if the driver of the other car had merely lost his way or had had a definite mission down the muddy narrow track. The Manor House had been up for sale for over twelve months and before that had fallen into decay, occupied only by General Adaire, an eccentric, ex-army man who lived there alone after the death of his wife.

More out of curiosity than anything else, Vanessa drove past the gates of the lodge and headed towards the Manor House proper coming to an abrupt stop as she saw the padlocked gate and the ‘No trespassers’ signs. Where the old, faded ‘for sale’ notice had hung a new notice now stood, a bold ‘sold’ sticker plastered across it. Someone had bought the Manor.

Musing on who it could be and hoping it would not, as had been rumoured at one time, be a property developer intent on turning what had once been a gracious country house into a multitude of small flatlets, Vanessa reversed down the lane to the lodge. As its name implied it had once been the lodge to the Manor House, but had been modernised and extended from its original Tudor framework during the Edwardian era, when it had been occupied by the mother of the then incumbent of the Manor. Having known no other home Vanessa was fiercely devoted to the lodge. How much longer would they be able to keep it though if Gavin did not get the contract he was hoping for from Supersport? Yet another reason for her to tender her apologies to Jay Courtland. Surely her love for her home outweighed her discomfort at the thought of facing the man who had mocked her so sardonically in her brother’s studio?

Less than an hour later, showered and wearing a simple pale yellow linen suit she had bought on impulse in a boutique several weeks ago, she was driving the Volvo in through the gates of Supersport. She had visited the factory once before and as then she was struck by its general air of neglect and decay, hardly the image of a go-ahead competitive firm, she thought as she eyed the untidy loading bay and the rather decrepit vans waiting there.

The only space to park the Volvo was right next to … Her heart missed a beat as she studied the unmistakable lines of the exotic sportscar she had last seen coming down the road from the Manor. A brief glance at the personalised numberplate told its own story and her face flamed as she remembered their brief contretemps in the lane; JAC 1, the numberplate read and she wondered idly what the ‘A’ stood for as she forced herself to breathe evenly and deeply, summoning all her courage and composure for the interview ahead.

As she locked the car and walked towards the reception area she heard voices gradually coming nearer, and recognised Jay Courtland’s, much sharper and more authoritative than she remembered it. ‘All deliveries will be tendered out—at least until we get the factory working reasonably efficiently.’ Vanessa heard someone else objecting, but Jay Courtland cut ruthlessly through the objections announcing crisply that he had made up his mind and that he was not prepared to waste valuable time on discussing the matter further.

She had just reached the main door when the small party of men rounded the corner. There were five men altogether, Jay Courtland easily discernible; easily the most arresting, his lean, tall frame standing out from those of his fellows; tired-looking, business-suited individuals whom she recognised as the directors of the once family-run firm. Jay Courtland saw her first, and saying something to his companions left them to walk towards her.

‘Ah ha, it’s the lady who wants to photograph me in the nude,’ he mocked her with a taunting smile. ‘You’re nothing if not persistent, but you can hardly expect me to strip to the buff here, or was it bribery you had in mind this time?’ His glance rested provocatively on her breasts as he spoke, and the suit which had seemed eminently respectable and suitable when she put it on suddenly seemed to cling far too seductively to the curves of her body, the silk shirt she was wearing beneath it, far too revealing. Only pride and a certain grim determination not to let him rattle her prevented her from hugging the edges of her jacket protectively around her body, but as though he knew what was running through her mind Jay lifted his glance from her body to her flushed indignant face, laughter gleaming gold in his tawny eyes. ‘You know I can’t imagine you as a model somehow,’ he said softly, ‘You don’t strike me as a young woman who would docilely allow herself to be ordered what to do. Something tells me you prefer being the one who does the ordering. Is that why you prefer being behind the camera to being in front of it?’

This was the moment to tell him that she wasn’t Nadia, but just as she opened her mouth, the main doors opened and a slim, harassed looking man in his mid-forties hurried out, relief clearly evident in his expression as he saw Jay Courtland.

‘Jay, there you are. There’s a call for you about the new contracts we’re hoping to set up for Supersport. Will you …’

‘Tell them I’ll ring back in fifteen minutes will you Russell. I think this young lady has something to say to me that just won’t wait.’

Vanessa went scarlet as she felt the other man’s interested gaze skim over her, and then Jay was taking her arm and guiding her in through the open doors, down a carpeted corridor coming to an abrupt halt outside the farthest door. Thrusting it open he stood back so that Vanessa could precede him inside. The room still smelled of fresh paint and had obviously been re-decorated and refurnished. Her mouth twisted in a slightly bitter smile. Of course everything would have to be bright shiny new for the new owner.

As though he guessed what she was thinking Jay Courtland watched her mobile face for a few seconds before offering, ‘Packaging my dear Nadia, you of all people should know how important that is. How can we hope to persuade our buyers that Supersport’s products are the best if we try to sell them from grubby, tatty offices?’

‘Spend money to make money?’ Vanessa asked acidly. ‘I should have thought you already had more than enough of that commodity?’

‘A man can never have too much of any commodity he prizes,’ Jay told her sardonically, ‘and I learned young the value of money; the status and power it confers upon its owner.’

‘And that’s what you want? Status, power?’

‘Is that so wrong?’ He walked over to the row of modern cabinets with their smoked glass fronts and extracted a bottle and two crystal glasses. ‘The respect of our peers, isn’t that what all of us want?’

‘Respect can’t be bought,’ Vanessa told him defiantly.

‘You think not?’ His mouth twisted wryly. ‘You think the Mayor would still be wanting to dine with me if I was still Jay Courtland, bastard orphan of this parish? Would I be enjoying the company of a beautiful woman like you if I was still the same Jay Courtland I was at fifteen?’ His eyes and mouth told her that he thought he knew the answer, and Vanessa realised for the first time how much bitterness there was concealed behind the mocking mask; the smooth urbanity with which he faced the world. How could she tell him that no matter what he had done in life he would always have been a man who commanded the attention of others, especially her own sex. He opened the bottle he had been holding in his hand, the popping of the cork alerting Vanessa to its contents. ‘Veuve Cliquot,’ he drawled as he poured the foaming clear liquid into the fluted champagne glasses. ‘Your favourite I believe.’

Just about to correct him Vanessa realised that it was Nadia’s favourite drink, at least according to the popular press. She wanted to tell him that he was mistaken and that she wasn’t her glamorous cousin, but something more important took precedence. ‘You bought that for me? But how did you know …’

‘That you would come here?’ He shrugged powerful shoulders and smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile, Vanessa realised. Nor a warm smile, in fact it was cold and rather bitter, his eyes flat and empty as they studied her flushed face. ‘Wasn’t it part of the game that you should?’ he asked softly, handing her one of the glasses. ‘I must admit you showed ingenuity and since that is a trait I greatly admire, I felt it should be rewarded.’

Ingenuity? Vanessa stared at him, the truth suddenly so clear that it could have been illuminated in ten foot high letters outside the factory. She put down her glass so quickly that some of the frothy liquid spilled, anger darkening her eyes to deep sapphire as she faced him.

‘I came here to apologise for this morning,’ she said enunciating the words clearly and slowly so that there could be no mistake. ‘I’m very sorry for what happened, but it was a genuine mistake. I had no idea. Everyone makes mistakes,’ she added wildly, when it became plain that she wasn’t getting through to him. ‘Gavin did have a session booked.’

Jay had put down his glass and he came towards her, with a cool economy of movement that reminded her of a huge jungle cat. Even the way he walked possessed an undeniable sensuality she thought, watching him with one half of her brain while the other half struggled with the task of impressing upon him the truth.

When he reached for her hands she was so surprised that she made no move to evade him. ‘I really can’t allow you to call a halt now that the game has begun, it promises to be far too interesting. If it makes you feel any happier we’ll forget about motives for the moment shall we and concentrate on this.’

‘This’ was the warm, firm pressure of his mouth on hers, as he parted her surprised lips with consummate ease, enfolding her in his arms almost before she even realised he had done so, and then once his mouth was in possession of hers, somehow it was impossible to pull away.

She had been kissed before of course. She could hardly have reached twenty-two and not had some experience with the opposite sex, but because of her inferiority complex she had always chosen as her dates boys and then men biased towards the intellectual rather than the physical, and the actual realisation of what a kiss could and should be totally overwhelmed her. Before she knew what she was doing she was holding on to Jay’s hard shoulders, sliding her fingers into the thick silky hair at his nape, allowing him to taste and plunder her mouth as though she were no more than a ragdoll.

That he was the one to break the kiss was a humiliation she would dwell on more deeply when she was alone, for now it was all she could do to simply stand up, her eyes betraying her bedazzlement, while thick, dark lashes concealed his expression from her, his voice as warm and lazy as always as he commented softly, ‘A most auspicious beginning, don’t you think.’ He reached out and ran his thumb along the bottom curve of her lip, watching the emotions chase one another through her dazed eyes, a tigerish smile springing to his mouth as he observed, ‘For such a very experienced lady, you certainly have quite a few tricks up your sleeve, or did one of your lovers tell you how arousing that mixture of inexperience and enthusiasm can be?’

His words jerked her out of her bedazzlement and she pulled away, but it was too late to evade the hard pressure of his arms, and the even harder pressure of his mouth, as it reinforced his comments about her effect on him. This was no teasing, lazy kiss, but a man’s expression of his powerful physical need and avowing his intention of appeasing it, in a very explicit manner. A pervasive indolence spread through her body, heating her blood, melting her resistance, every nerve ending concentrating on the feelings beating through her body. Her mouth opened of its own accord beneath the hard pressure of Jay’s, her fingers sliding into his hair to prolong the caress, her body meltingly pliant against him so that she wasn’t quite sure when she first felt the touch of his fingers against her breast, only that they seemed to burn through the thin silk of her blouse and she could think of nothing she wanted more than to be with him; to be part of him.

He tensed against her, lifting his head, and her body cried out its protest, her tongue touching her swollen lips. His eyes followed the brief movement. ‘Someone’s coming,’ he told her huskily. ‘You’d better go.’ He bent his head, trailing his tongue tormentingly across the tender flesh she had just moistened, and when he lifted it again his eyes glowed as brilliantly gold as the sun. ‘You do things to me I’ve only dreamed about,’ he moaned against her throat. ‘Think yourself lucky you got that phone call this morning, otherwise we’d have been making love on that damned “beach” of yours.’

She was at the door almost before she realised what was happening. When it opened Russell was there, looking worried and drawn. ‘It’s been more than fifteen minutes, Jay,’ he complained, his thin face flushing slightly as he avoided looking at Vanessa. Had he guessed what had been happening? Did Jay make a habit of seducing every woman who walked into his life? Certainly according to the press there was no shortage of women willing to share his wealth with him. Sharp knives of pain raked over her skin, and for the first time she knew real jealousy. It was nothing like the feeling she had felt towards Nadia.

‘Miss March is just leaving, Russell,’ Jay assured his aide with a brief smile, and as she headed down the corridor to the main door, Vanessa had to suppress a faint shiver of reaction. In less than five minutes Jay Courtland had managed to turn her world upside down. Or had it happened before that? Even this morning, despite her resentment of him she hadn’t been immune to him, and now, when he kissed her … Her fingers touched her mouth and she trembled. Never had she experienced such a surge of physical desire; such an intensity of feeling that obliterated everything else until nothing mattered but the final, flaming consummation of that desire. Jay had wanted her too, he had told her so. Suddenly she seemed to have stepped into an unfamiliar world. The world she had inhabited before today didn’t allow for such happenings, for … falling in love! Falling in love, she was being ridiculous. Jay Courtland certainly hadn’t fallen in love with her. Oh he wanted her all right … She came to an abrupt halt suddenly remembering something else, a deep tide of mortification colouring her skin. He didn’t want her, he wanted Nadia. He wanted the woman he had held in his arms and kissed, she told herself; that woman was her. For the first time in her life she felt the urge to assert herself instead of creeping into the background. She was back at the studio before she remembered that she had not really apologised and nor had Jay shown any indication of accepting that the entire incident had been a genuine mistake.

Gavin greeted her with a wide grin. ‘Guess who’s just been on the phone?’ he called out to her. ‘Only Russell Jackson, Jay’s aide. Jay’s giving us the sole contract for photographing the new range when they bring it out, and he wants us to do the photographs for all the publicity the team will be getting. What do you think of that?’

‘It’s marvellous news Gavin.’ He asked her about her interview with Jay, and she told him that it seemed to have gone well, hoping he would be too preoccupied with his own news to notice how few real details she was giving him. ‘I’ve got another piece of news for you,’ he told her. ‘Jay’s bought the old manor. Apparently he’s tired of city living and he wants to settle down here. Shouldn’t even be surprised if he decides to marry.’ She had her face turned away from her brother so he couldn’t have seen the sudden paling of her face, or noticed the ridiculous way in which her heart suddenly threatened to stop beating.

‘To anyone in particular, or …’

‘Oh, I’m just surmising, but surely he’s going to want to pass on his wealth to someone? I’ve got to go and see him tomorrow, he wants to set up the publicity campaign for the team. I don’t know how long it’s going to take.’

She had been looking for a way of explaining to Jay the mix-up over her identity and suddenly hit upon the ideal solution. ‘Gavin, Jay still thinks I’m Nadia, will you explain to him tomorrow that I’m not. It’s getting rather embarrassing.’

‘If you want me to, although I can’t see why you didn’t tell him yourself today. Why didn’t you?’

‘I didn’t really get the opportunity. I had to leave because he had a phone call to make.’

‘Umm. Well while he was on he warned me that we can expect a considerable amount of activity up and down the lane for the next few weeks. The manor is practically derelict and he’s getting an architect in to work on it, modernise it.’

Modernise it! Vanessa repressed a brief shudder. She could well imagine the results, a tasteless, brash amalgam of all that was modern and gimmicky. For the first time since she had left Jay’s office reality impinged. They were two people who were worlds apart and until today his world was one she would never have dreamed of wanting to enter. She still didn’t want to. But she did want Jay. The next move was up to him. Would he get in touch with her again once he knew who she really was, or was he too, having second thoughts? Had she only appealed to him as ‘Nadia’ March the famous model?

CHAPTER THREE (#u2bbd2ad7-2c46-5749-a018-a0831d3c6b56)

IT was Gavin who informed her of the exact nature of Jay’s thoughts, when he returned from his meeting with him. They had no work on that day and Vanessa had elected to give the lodge a good cleaning. She had just finished and was sitting down with a cup of coffee when she heard the Volvo in the drive. Gavin got out looking elated, waving a thick bunch of papers.

‘The contract,’ he told her as she opened the door. He grimaced when he saw her coffee mug on the small table in the living room. ‘I think we deserve to celebrate with something a little better than that.’ He glanced at his watch and announced. ‘I’m taking you out to lunch, go and put your glad rags on, and we’ll go.’

Apart from her lemon suit there was little in her wardrobe to deserve the description ‘glad rags’, and in the end she selected a white cotton skirt and a pretty pastel toning tee shirt which had been a cast off from Nadia, who claimed that it was far too big for her.

Although both girls were slender, Nadia maintained an almost flat-chested model’s proportions while Vanessa was more femininely curved, so that the tee shirt fitted snugly to her body.

As they drove through the countryside, now in full bright green June leaf, Vanessa recognised the route to what had been a favourite family haunt— an old coaching inn which had been preserved and remained much as it must have appeared in Dickens’ time.

Because it was mid-week they had no difficulty in getting a table, the landlord immediately recognising both of them. The inn specialised in local produce, Vanessa opted for a sea-food cocktail followed by steak, new potatoes and asparagus, both vegetables being grown locally. They had reached the main course before Gavin started to talk about his meeting with Jay Courtland. He waited for the wine waiter to move away and then started to tell her about the contract. ‘It gives us the exclusive rights to do all the photographic work for Supersport, and all the publicity connected with the team. It’s a relief to know that everything’s tied up legally now,’ he confided to Vanessa. ‘Business has been too slack recently. I suppose London is really the place for a photographer to make a real success.’

‘You’ve been doing very well,’ Vanessa protested.

‘Not as well as you think,’ he told her ruefully. ‘I haven’t wanted to worry you by telling you how much we needed the money from this contract. I only found out after he died that Dad raised his share of the money for that last expedition by mortgaging the house. Unless we pay back a hefty sum this year, the bank could foreclose and we’d lose it.’

‘As bad as that! You should have told me.’

‘And have you worrying yourself to death about losing the lodge?’ He shook his head. ‘I must admit I was beginning to get desperate until I learned about the contract. And he was very nice about the mix-up yesterday. He seemed more amused than annoyed.’

‘You did tell him that I wasn’t Nadia, didn’t you?’

There was a brief silence, and Gavin’s expression changed, his face flushing slightly. ‘You haven’t told him have you?’ Vanessa breathed. ‘Oh Gavin …’

‘Look I know I said I would, but the thing is, Van, he wants you to pose with the team; for a gimmick he said. He was so keen on it that I could hardly turn round and tell him the truth. Not when he’d just said that finding out you were my assistant was what had swung the deal our way. I couldn’t tell him.’

Vanessa went pale, pushing her half empty plate away from her. ‘But Gavin, that’s dishonest. Letting him think I was Nadia …’

‘Not really. It is you he wants to model with the team. After all he’s seen you in the flesh and he hasn’t seen Nadia.’

‘But he thinks I am Nadia,’ Vanessa protested, ‘and the truth is bound to get out. The whole town knows who I am. Unless of course you’re proposing deception on a grand scale.’

He had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. ‘Look Van I know it places you in an awkward position, but what else could I do? There he was saying the contract was ours with one breath and then with the other suggesting that you wouldn’t object to posing with the team as a publicity gimmick.’

‘I can see that it was difficult for you, but surely no more difficult than it’s going to be when he finds out the truth?’

‘Need he do?’ Gavin fiddled awkwardly with his cutlery. ‘Look Nadia’s out of the country at the moment, I checked before we came out, a modelling job in Gambia and besides, she never comes back here. You know that.’

‘Gavin you can’t expect me to deliberately deceive someone; to pretend that I’m someone I’m not. Tell him the truth and if he still wants me to pose, then fine …’

‘I don’t see how I can now.’ Gavin sounded truculent and Vanessa sighed. Her brother didn’t want to admit to Jay Courtland that he had allowed him to believe she was Nadia, and she could understand that, but surely he could see how potentially dangerous it could be to deliberately allow him to go on under the same misconception. Apart from her own dislike of the thought of the deceit and subterfuge necessary to keep up the pretence.

‘Van, I wouldn’t ask if we didn’t have so much at stake, believe me.’

‘But Gavin, we can’t go on deceiving him for ever.’

‘No, I realise that. Once the photographs have been done and I’ve shown him the quality of our work, “Nadia” can disappear and “Van” can return. He might suspect the truth, but as long as we’re discreet he isn’t going to question it—he won’t want to appear that foolish, and besides what harm will it do?’

How could she explain to her brother the delicacy of the situation between herself and Jay? As far as she was concerned there was no justification for deceiving him further, and now it was too late, she cursed herself for not making her identity plain earlier. But if she went to him now and told him the truth it would be humiliating for Gavin, and they could even lose the contract. She was in a cleft stick, faced with Hobson’s choice, neither path appealing to her.

‘Look Van,’ Gavin pressed, sensing that she was weakening. ‘You only need to do it for a week or so, no longer I promise you. You might even enjoy it,’ he added with a grin. ‘Haven’t you always wanted to know how the other half live; what it’s like to be our glamorous, sought-after cousin?’

‘Not at the price of my own integrity,’ she responded smartly, but inside she felt a tiny twinge of despair. He desired her, Jay had told her, but was it her he desired, or was it the woman he thought she was? Was it the cachet of possessing her cousin’s famous face and body that drew him? Would he still want her when he discovered she was simply plain Vanessa? Second best all her life and no competition at all for the glamorous Nadia; a candle in comparison to the sun.

‘I still don’t think it’s right, Gavin,’ she told him slowly.

‘But you’ll do it anyway? Steady, reliable Van, always weighing the pros and cons … Hurry up and finish your meal,’ he commanded her, ‘we’ve got a busy afternoon ahead.

‘Busy?’

‘Umm … If you’re going to be Nadia, you need costuming for the part. The only jeans I’ve ever seen her wearing are designer label. Jay was very curious about why you were behind the camera instead of in front of it. I told him you had wanted a break and that you were helping me out.’

‘Very inventive of you,’ Vanessa said dryly, following her brother as he made to leave their table. He paid the bill and then they were out in the warm June sunshine; the first really warm day they had had and it seemed to be almost criminal to waste it on shopping, but Gavin was adamant. It was just as well he had such decided ideas on fashion because alone she could never have found the enthusiasm to buy the clothes he was pushing at her. She didn’t even like touching them; silk dresses and blouses, fluid sensual clothes that conjured up a vivid impression of her clothes horse cousin. Clothes she would never have chosen in a million years.

‘You know you look just as good as Nadia,’ Gavin commented as he made her parade up and down in front of him, studying each outfit assessingly, ‘in your own way. Where Nadia is sensual, you are innocent. In fact Jay remarked upon it, and said how surprised he’d been by the lack of sensuality which comes over so strongly in your photographs. He seemed to find it very intriguing. We’ll have that one,’ he added, picking out the bright pink taffeta dress with its low cut neckline that she had been wearing. ‘And you’ll need something really grand for the ball.’

‘The ball?’

‘Umm. He announced this morning that once the alterations on the house are finished he intends to give a ball there, proceeds from the sale of the tickets to go to the local children’s home. It promises to be an extremely grand affair, but it’s months away yet, you can get something for that later. You still need a dress for now.’

She tried on a selection of dresses half-heartedly, liking none of them until the assistant brought in the soft silk taffeta sheath. She tried it on in breathless anticipation marvelling at the apparent delicacy of her figure and the undeniable pleasure of wearing something so alluringly feminine.

When she showed it to Gavin at first she thought he didn’t like it. The neckline revealed the smooth sweep of her shoulders and the rounded curves of her breasts, the narrow skirt outlining her hips. A very provocative dress she thought and she held her breath waiting for his comments, asking anxiously when he made none, ‘What’s the matter, is it too sexy, do you think?’

The smile he gave her was faintly crooked. ‘It’s not that, it’s just that I’ve suddenly realised what we’ve all done to you, and what you would have been if there’d been no Nadia, and only a Vanessa. We’ll take it,’ he told the saleswoman.

An hour later they were back at the lodge. Because of the new contract Gavin had some work to do, and rather than sit brooding on the deception she was forced to be party to, Vanessa picked up her Nikon and wandered down into their back garden, finding the gap in the thick beech hedge which gave access to the Manor’s overgrown wood. The wood had always been a favourite place of sanctuary during her childhood, a place where she could be alone to think and dream, and now she needed its solace once more. She had picked up her camera more out of habit more than anything else, but as she wandered along the overgrown bramble and nettle bordered paths she was glad that she had. Soon this small wilderness would be gone; this might be her last opportunity to record what had once been her secret place of refuge. Soon Jay Courtland and her false identity as Nadia were pushed to the back of her mind as she worked busily photographing the ancient oaks, the small, still pool where she had watched ducklings hatch; the stream where otters played and she had once seen a kingfisher. Gavin had once brought her here at night to watch the badgers, a truly magical experience; soon she was lost, wrapped in the dense silence of her surroundings transported from the materialistic and often alien world outside.