Chapter Nine

"So how do I look?" Sammy burst into the lounge giving an elaborate twirl as she went. Eventually stopping in front of Corinne and her boyfriend Mike who were sat on the sofa smiling. She'd bought a new dress for the occasion, it was a long time since she'd dressed up to go anywhere and the sense of rebellion that was linked to this evening was almost making her giddy. The Turners didn't do anything by half so she'd gone for a full length black dress, empire line as she wasn't even remotely over her baby shape, but with the sequinned detailed low cut top and flowing full skirt, she felt sexier than she had in a year. She had chosen a slight heel and that fact, plus the spinning were making her wobble.

Corinne was laughing; Mike smiling as they both stared at her, but it wasn't their voices that answered her.

"Amazing! But are you pissed already?"

She spun again to look towards the front door where Joel stood leaning against the door frame, dressed in a suit, which was no surprise for him, but his dark hair was trendily scruffy, and his jaw clean shaven. His eyes were sparkling as he reached out and steadied her because the final spin had sent her balance out of control.

"I'm not drunk!" She clung onto him with one hand, lifting her skirt with the other to reveal the diamante shoes she'd bought on a whim. "But I haven't worn heels in...forever."

He grinned then turned to Corinne and Mike, "anyone else get the sense tonight is going to be crazy?"

Corinne chuckled, "wish I was coming now instead of babysitting this little lady." She bounced Eleanor on her knee then as the little one grinned she changed her mind, "nope. One of those smiles makes it ALL worthwhile. Go you two and have a fantastic night, show those bastard Turners what they've been missing out on by ignoring you. You'll glow girlfriend."

Sammy turned to them both and gave a beaming smile, "I'll keep you updated!"

Joel had ordered a cab, and it was waiting patiently at the kerb when they emerged. He was still holding onto Sammy, but her gait had become a little less terrifying as she was getting used to things, but he was still feeling protective. Sat next to her in the dark car he looked across at her, her gaze was fixed on the route ahead, but even from the side he could see the sparkle in her eyes. She wasn't a classically beautiful woman, but from the moment he'd seen her on a Greek beach years earlier he'd been intrigued by her. Her flawless pale skin, her lustrous dark red hair and a figure that was suited to Greek mythology were all the complete opposite to the women he was attracted to, but on her it was a lethal combination, after all she had floored his womanising friend a day later when they were on the stranded ferry. Since coming back into her life she'd lost her spark, her eyes had been devoid of her usual sparkle, her glorious hair dragged back off her face, and her clothes shapeless, dark, her mourning for her husband wasn't just external, he knew that.

He smiled as she looked at him and winked, her joie de vivre was back, she was glowing in a way she hadn't in a long time. Again that made him smile.

"You're looking forward to this, aren't you?"

She chuckled, "is it wrong to want to thrust my middle finger in the direction of the Turners?"

He laughed, "no, they were always good to me, but since Marcus died..." he gulped, those words still hurt, "well they've not cared. You are right to keep your distance."

"Keep my distance? I'm about to walk into their Ruby Wedding Party."

He nodded, "physical distance is one thing, but that's not what I mean."

With a knowing smile she looked back ahead.

Fifteen minutes later they arrived at the five star Mayfair hotel that was home to this prestigious event. Joel was used to visiting the place, he'd been to a ton of conferences and meetings in most of the Mayfair and Park Lane high end hotels and he was no longer intimidated by them, but he had been once, many years ago. Glancing at Sammy he recognised the anxiety, the tension in her shoulders, the way she bit her bottom lip, she was suddenly petrified.

"Let's go in the bar, get a warm up drink first, yes?"

He barely gave her chance to agree and he'd led her past the liveried concierge and into the lobby bar. It was as glamorous as he remembered and filled with equally glamorous people sitting talking and drinking exotic looking cocktails. He steered her into the room and to two seats in the corner of the bar.

"Sit, I'll get us a drink."

Sammy thought this would be easy, walking into a hotel and playing the part of someone who belonged there. But she didn't. This was a million miles from her comfort zone; she'd sampled this life with Marcus, a little, occasional dinners out or luxurious weekends away. But in all honesty, she hadn't stayed in a hotel until she was sixteen, she hadn't had a holiday until that trip to Greece, and she hadn't known luxury until Marcus treated her.

She thought about her mother, Monica, as much as she was useless she was defensive over her, furiously so. They'd lived in more than fifteen homes by time she was sixteen, and that had included several school changes, that hadn't been good for her education. But for some reason she had scraped some decent qualifications. They'd had nothing, her mother dragged her from temporary job, to temporary job; useless man to useless man. Her mother had never had a sense of belonging, a sense of happiness and now, years later she felt pity for her.

It couldn't have been easy getting pregnant at sixteen, to an older man who disappeared at the first warning. She'd been let to believe that her grandparents had thrown Monica out and that she'd had to forge a way through life by herself, young, naive and pregnant. It wasn't until she was sixteen herself that Sammy found out that wasn't the truth. Her mother had apparently always been as self centred and stubborn as she was now, and after a disagreement over the baby, her, after her grandparents tried to discuss the best options with her, she'd literally thrown a childish tantrum and packed her bags. She'd not seen them for years, and Sammy did think that as the years passed she actually believed her own story; it had probably morphed in to one story over the years in her mind. When Eleanor, her grandmother had found her, Sammy refused to believe her; she was unable to fathom the fact that Monica had CHOSEN that life for them. But she had.

She had hated her for years, she'd never done anything to help Sammy, in fact Sammy had spent a lot of time actually caring for her own mother. Even now, Monica was useless, she was an emotional cripple and unable to organise anything. She'd inherited her family home when her parents died, and even that solidity wasn't enough for Monica. Late night phone calls, tears, histrionics...she had it all from her mother.

But she was the only mother she had, and she couldn't change that. She loved her as a person, but resented her as a mother. The only real positive, the only think she could thank her for, was her determination to be a better mother than Monica, to be everything for Eleanor.

A drink appeared in her visual field and she had to blink to focus on it, and the person at the end of the arm holding it. Joel smiled, "penny for your thoughts?"

Though they were probably worth a hell of a lot more than that, if her facial expression was anything to go by. Joel had ordered her a champagne cocktail in the hope that it would settle her nerves; placing it in front of her he sat his whisky rocks opposite.

"Sorry, I ordered for you. Rather caveman of me."

She smiled gratefully, "saved me deliberating for hours over the menu. It looks good." Tilting her head down, she leaned forward to take a sip, then smiled, "delicious. Good choice."

With a smile he reached for his drink and took a sip, "the proverbial Dutch Courage, hey?"

She studied him for a moment, then sighed, "sorry, I didn't consider how stressful this would be for you, seeing all his family again. I was just thinking of myself and the need for some moral support."

"don't be ridiculous, I'm only too glad to come with you, and I need to face up to the Turners. It'll be as hard for them as it is for me."

Reaching her hand out, she placed one over his, "you've been amazing, Marcus always said I could trust you if I ever needed anything. He was right."

That made a lump restrict his throat, for a moment he thought he'd struggle to breathe, but closing his eyes for the briefest moment he swallowed that ever-present sadness, and the guilt. Because he wasn't being honest with her. Not about Marcus, and he had to work out what to do about that.

"I mean it though Joel, I kind of forced you to do this, to come here, and I shouldn't have. But thank you anyway."

He laughed, "you make me sound like some sort of saint, and I'm not that Sammy."

Shrugging she reached for her drink, "you've been that to me. Ok?"

Feeling like a cad of the worst type, he sat back in his seat and finished his drink, "are you ready? To be thrown to the lions?"

Sammy's laughter accompanied her as they left the bar and moved to the ballroom.

Sammy stared around the room hoping that her jaw hadn't fallen open too far, this was beyond her world.

"You should have been here as their daughter-in-law. Don't lose your nerve now." Joel's hand at the small of her back did spur her on. "You belong here, ok?"

Nodding she moved slightly ahead of him into the bejewelled room.

Joel scanned the room as they stepped inside, he was close to Sammy, wishing he was some sort of protector, in reality he was nothing. But within seconds he felt eyes on him, and looking up he met the stare, the angry stare of Daniel Turner. They had never got on, though they managed to hide it from Marcus for the duration of their friendship. He knew this man was more involved in trying to drag down his business than anything else, so he couldn't help but return that scowl. Until he felt movement beside him, Sammy. He glanced down as he felt her tense, her shoulders had lifted and her knuckles were white as she gripped her bag with all her might.

Sammy took several deep breaths as she watched Margaret Turner take her in. The older woman was stood across the room, ensconced in the heart of her family, Clifford, dapper as always in a tuxedo was beside her, despite his business prowess, his success...he was second fiddle to her in every way. She had married a man who had treated her as a princess. It wasn't what she wanted, Sammy had never dreamed of being so precious, so revered by her family, but as the other woman stared at her, it was like some sort of faceoff. A team of Turners against her...and Joel.

The crowd seemed to part in some sort of dramatic wave, though she knew that was her overdramatic imagination.

"Margaret. How are you?"

The older woman seemed a little taken aback at that, but the confusion swiftly switched to a smile, "Samantha, so good to see you, thank you for coming."

Sammy kept the smile sickly sweet then handed her a gift, then watched as she accepted in awkwardly then opened it. "Such a monument us occasion, thanks for inviting me."

The picture was a framed picture of Eleanor, or rather a large picture taken the previous week, but that was flanked by two smaller pictures, one of them the first picture of the baby all red and angry at being born, the second was of her in the bath, laughing as only she could. They were Sammy's favourite pictures and she had been reluctant to share them. But then she hoped they'd only help load the guilt on a woman who had neglected her granddaughter.

Margaret turned white as she looked at the pictures, "she's beautiful, so like Marcus." That caused a hic in her voice. Her eyes finally lifted to Sammy once more, "I'd like to meet her."

Sammy shrugged, she had no intention of that happening so easily, "Daniel asked me to bring her tonight, but you must see that this isn't the right place for her."

Margaret gave a simpering smile, "I'm just desperate to meet her."

Feeling anger threaten to engulf her, she took a steadying breath, "she's almost five months old, you've had months to meet her."

Fluttering her hand at her eyes Margaret sighed, "my grief has been..."

Holding a hand she silenced her, "I know I get it, I had to deal with mine whilst his baby grew in me, every time she moved I was thrown back into it all, reminded of everything I lost, then she arrived looking the image of him. I have had to live with this for over a year, so DO NOT tell me about grief."

Then with a brief nod she stepped away from Margaret and the ever silent Clifford.

Joel was stood a few steps behind her and watched the dialogue unfold and he was infinitely proud of Sammy, and equally disgusted at Margaret, a woman who'd been like a mother to him. She was frazzled by the confrontation, he could tell that, and little disturbed the calm persona of Margaret Turner. One-nil he half smiled.

"Joel, you came!"

Within seconds she was back the socialite that she was, he turned to her, "well considering I wasn't invited, I'm not sure that's right."

He gave a smile then followed the trail Sammy had left behind.

He spotted her in the distance, a glass of champagne in her shaking hand, but a buzz from his pocket disturbed him. As he pulled his phone from his trouser pocket he started to make his way through the crowd towards her, but the screen image made him freeze. He recognised the doorway in the picture, he'd spent a day outside there the previous week, but there was a woman, maybe his age, maybe a little older, but it wasn't her that intrigued him, it was the boy holding her hand, a two maybe three year old dark haired boy with a toothy grin.

Underneath the picture was a message, "You left too soon, that's why PI's are the way forward. You aren't going to believe this. Call me ASAP, Toby."