Page 114 of Duplicity

They can be their future, if they make room for me in their lives.

‘Okay,’ she says hesitantly. ‘If you’re sure. It sounds amazing.’

‘It will be. And I’m sure. So that’s settled, then. Now, next agenda item. When can I take you on a real date?’

CHAPTER 54

Marlowe

Brendan warned me on the drive up to Newmarket that his parents’ house was like something out of a Jilly Cooper novel, and having binged on the TV adaptation ofRivals, I can concede that the guy has a point.

The house itself is absolutely gorgeous—a huge square Georgian pile sitting in perfectly manicured gardens that spill over into extended grounds. There’s a pool, two tennis courts, an actualmaze, and endless lovely spots for losing yourself in a book. Inside, it’s luxurious if somewhat over-furnished, accessorised to the hilt with festoon blinds and curtain tassels and horsey oil paintings.

Every single surface—walls, beds, soft furnishings—of the airy twin room that Tabby and I will share is covered in a cheery rose print that continues into the ensuite bathroom. It’s full-on but decidedly charming. It’s clear that, despite the extreme wealth the Sullivans have, their house is a proper home. I allow myself a small private giggle at the thought that perhaps it was the aggressive florals that drove Brendan to furnish his penthouse in floor-to-ceiling taupe.

We’re a party of thirteen this weekend: Brendan, Tabby and me; Athena and Gabe; Brendan’s parents, Ronan andMaeve, who are lovely; Mairead, her husband Peter and three kids; and a guy Brendan introduces as “my mate Dave”. Dave seems slightly out of place, and I struggle to work out why until Brendan pulls me aside and explains that Dave is, in fact, a highly trained paramedic with a fully equipped private ambulance parked discreetly in one of the many garages. If Tabby suffers the slightest setback, Dave will spring into action and, worst case, transfer her to the nearest A&E.

I’m absolutely blown away that he’s thought of this—that he’s gone to this much effort and expense to guarantee Tabs’ wellbeing while keeping the setup discreet enough to ensure she doesn’t feel self-conscious. It’s a level of detail that would totally have evaded me. That said, I’m relieved to know a trained medic is in our midst in this rural location. Brendan’s bought me peace of mind this weekend, and it’s as wonderful as it is alien.

Brendan was fab on the drive up here, putting on a Disney playlist to which the three of us proceeded to sing our hearts out. I had one of my moments when the other two were singingHakuna Matata, and I’m not sure if it was dissonance or downright fantasy, but it was sweet and cruel all at the same time.

This could be your future,the little voice in my head said.A gorgeous man to share these moments and make everything better. Brighter. A father figure for Tabs and absolutely everything for you—best friend, lover, confidant. Partner.As if he’d read my mind, he looked over at me mid-song and smiled like he was having the time of his life.

Brendan Sullivan, billionaire playboy, singing along toThe Lion Kingwith a single mum and her little girl and looking perfectly content.

The weekend officially kicks off with a lavish lunch on the huge terrace. The spread is an epic ploughman’s—indecently good pork pies, brightly coloured salads, a wooden cheeseboardgroaning under the weight of all that lovely, runny cheese, and scotch eggs so well-crafted that I declare them a delicacy.

I’m more interested in the people-watching, though. The dynamics. Athena’s not one to struggle in any social situation or let insecurities get to her, but she doesn’t seem entirely comfortable with Maeve yet. I know Brendan’s parents took it hard when they discovered the true nature of Athena’s relationship with Gabe. Athena and Maeve are very polite—almost too polite—and it feels forced.

It’s only when the conversation moves onto the Audacity Foundation, the family’s foundation which Athena now runs, that Maeve warms up a little. It’s a relief. Athena’s amazing, and Gabe couldn’t have found a more wonderful partner, but I know mothers can struggle to see their sons move on with another woman.

Brendan and his parents have a different dynamic, I notice. They seem to defer to Gabe a lot. He used to be a priest, so I suspect they still view him as a font of wisdom (even if his mother will never quite forgive him for leaving the priesthood). But they don’t seem to view Brendan with quite the same respect, which frankly dumbfounds me.

Gabe may look after the family’s wealth, but Brendan runs their core business. Sullivan Construction is a behemoth in UK industry, and he’s a highly respected CEO. There was absolute devastation when he dropped out of the summit to go be by my side. And still, they seem to treat him as a hapless, bumbling kid. When he put something in the wrong place on the lunch table his mum called hima big eejit. I think she meant it teasingly, but his reaction hit me hard: he instantly mumbled an apology, his huge shoulders slumping.

Jesus. Is this why he’s obsessed with image and trophies and playthings—because his parents still don’t take his successseriously? Becausehedoesn’t allow himself to take it seriously? Maybe it’s easier, safer, if it all feels like a game.

After lunch has been cleared away by several discreet members of staff, Brendan’s parents go off to view a horse they’re considering buying (as you do) and the rest of us set up camp around the pool. It’s a lovely long pool in a secluded part of the garden that’s walled off for safety reasons by tall laurel hedges and a wooden gate. There’s a long row of solid wooden sun loungers with thick mattresses on the flagstone area, and a generous border of grass around the edges. At one end is a bar whose row of glass-fronted fridges is stocked with every drink imaginable. It’s so hard to comprehend this kind of wealth. Even the cash sitting in all those purchased beverages must be hundreds or thousands of pounds.

‘How are you feeling, sunshine?’ Brendan asks Tabs as he clips her oximeter onto her finger.

‘I’m good,’ she says. ‘I want to swim.’

‘That’s absolutely fine as long as you—oh, would you look at that. It’s all running like a Swiss watch in there.’ He pokes her in the breastbone.

It is. Her sats are at ninety-eight. I’m not sure when the thrill of seeing those numbers will fade.

‘Just take it easy,’ I tell her gently. ‘You can have fun, just remember to take breaks if you feel tired or breathless.’ I’m so used to managing her levels, to preempting every moment of exertion, that it will be a long time before I relax enough to let her activity levels run riot. Still, she looks to be full of life andraring to go, and Dave has taken up residence at the far end of the pool with a soft drink from the bar and a newspaper.

‘I’ll look after her,’ Brendan tells me. ‘Come on, sunshine. Let’s go make a splash.’

We put our swimming costumes on in our room after lunch. I help Tabby take off her sundress and hand her her goggles. Her little body is vibrating with excitement. The plaster over her scar is barely visible under her swimming costume—the joys of laparoscopic surgery.

‘We’re going to do cannonballs,’ Elsie, Mairead’s eldest, tells Tabs. She has a shock of ginger hair and is, according to both Gabe and Brendan, a total terror.

‘I hope no one wants to go swimming today,’ Brendan says, reaching behind him and tugging his t-shirt off in one fell swoop, ‘because I’m going to cannonball so hard that I’ll empty the whole damn pool of water.’

‘Nooo, Brendan!’ Elsie pushes him ineffectually on the thigh. ‘Not fair!’

---