Where The Heart Is

By Karen Mason

Book five of the Never Forget saga. It is 1985 and Ellie and Viva are true women of their time. Both are trying hard to have it all - a career, children and a great relationship with their new husbands. However, things aren't going to plan. Ellie is struggling to be a step-mother to two teenage children as well as looking after her own daughter Angel, and Rio - the baby her cousin Viva had with rock star Jake Fairhurst, Ellie's first husband. Viva is ruing the day she gave Rio to Ellie, so she could be with pop star Guy Fitzwilliam and is now desperate to get her daughter back. In typical Viva fashion, she doesn’t mind what measures she has to take to get her way.

When a rival record company starts a hostile takeover of Titan Records, Ellie and embarks on a business venture so risky, it could result in her losing everything - including her marriage.

Viva launches a new magazine and inadvertently opens a deadly can of worms, meaning a deadly secret is revealed that could tear her family apart.
And when a handsome stranger enters both women's lives, things will never be the same again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karen Mason
• Release date: May 26, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310976872

Karen Mason

Karen Mason (PhD, University of Denver) is associate professor of counseling and psychology at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary and a psychologist working in the mental health field since 1990. She previously managed the Office of Suicide Prevention for the Colorado Department of Public Health and Environment and is a member of the American Psychological Association. She is the author of When the Pieces Don't Fit: Making Sense of Life's Puzzles.

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Where The Heart Is

By Karen Mason

Published by Karen Mason at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 Karen Mason

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

Also by Karen Mason

Summerset

Mad About the Boy

Two Become One

Winner Takes it All

Mrs Osbourne Regrets

The True Tale of Jezebel Cole

Only You

The Line of Passion Trilogy (Maudie, Kate and Julia)

Never Forget

Scorpio Rising

Paradise Lost

The Exciting Life

Teenage Kicks

Never Tear Us Apart

www.authorkarenmason.wordpress.com

Cover image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Prologue

15th April 1985

Eddie Glass stood up and tapped the table with his knife. He was such a bull of a man, the table shook and he didn’t have to do it twice to get the wedding congregation’s full attention.

‘Ladies and gentlemen and those in between,’ he chuckled. ‘Can I just say a few words about my beautiful daughter, and how proud it makes me to see her finally settled with someone who deserves her?’

Ellie felt Zac reach under the table and grasp her hand. It was as if telepathically, he knew she was dreading her father mentioning Jake and what a terrible mistake her first marriage had been.

‘I've known Zachary a long time, and he's honest, hard-working and like me, loves the bones of her. They're partners in work as well as life, and who knows? Maybe soon they'll provide me with another grandchild. So, can you please raise your glasses to Mr and Mrs Meisel?’

‘Mr and Mrs Meisel,’ everyone around the room said, whilst raising their champagne glasses. Ellie glanced down the table, and saw that Daniel, her step-father, was beaming with pride and raising a toast in their direction, but her mother’s expression was completely different. There was a hint of sadness in her Annie’s eyes, and Ellie knew why. Like Annie, Ellie had reached twenty-five and was already twice married. Ellie knew she wouldn’t want the same for Angel and Rio when they grew up, and how painful it must have been for her mother to see her following in her footsteps.

‘You’ve forgotten Mummy's birthday!’ Angel shouted, making everyone laugh.

‘Thank you darling,’ Ellie chuckled, looking at her daughter, who was sitting on her Aunt Rowan's lap, so cute in her white, milkmaid, bridesmaids outfit.

‘Happy Birthday my darling,’ Eddie said, looking down at Ellie lovingly. ‘Thank you for making me such a proud dad.’

Eddie sat down and Ellie watched as Pete, her business partner, lined up the music for the first dance. Pete was usually based in New York - running Titan Records from there, but he’d come over for the wedding and had volunteered to be the DJ. Zac and Ellie had chosen The Power of Love by Frankie Goes to Hollywood because it was romantic. But it was also rather long, and Ellie didn't fancy being the centre of attention for nearly five minutes.

‘As soon as we reach the second chorus, we get everyone up dancing,’ she said quietly to Zac.

‘I second that,’ he replied. ‘Mim and I had Ain't No Mountain High Enough and that seemed to last forever.’

Ellie thought back to her first wedding and how she and Jake had danced to Love Me Tender by Elvis. It still saddened her to think how it all went wrong. But today wasn’t a day for regrets - Zac was her future and as everyone said, he was a far better match for her.

***

The Christening of the Rt Hon Damian Patrick Augustus Fitzwilliam was not going well. It was exceptionally cold for April, Damian had a sniffle that was making him grouchy, and Guy was just off the plane from Cannes after playing a private gig the night before. A mega-rich sultan had offered Kubrick an obscene amount of money to play at his birthday party, and Guy couldn’t refuse. But now he was tired and miserable, and whinging almost as much as his son. Viva was pissed off because she was missing a meeting with a potential investor in her new magazine. To her it was ridiculous that they were being forced to have the Christening on a Monday, just because it was the only day The Bishop of Chester was available. Sunday was the day for religious ceremonies. It wasn’t as though Damian cared if he was being christened by a Bishop or not. It was just another ridiculous, Fitzwilliam family tradition.

‘Will you at least smile?’ Guy hissed out the corner of his mouth, as the Bishop held the snivelling Damian and addressed the Godparents. ‘The natives will expect you to be beaming when you leave the church.’

Viva gritted her teeth and under her breath cursed Guy. How dare he criticise her when he looked like death warmed up? No doubt after the gig, there would have been the usual mountain of cocaine and endless champagne on offer, and of course, her husband could never say no. She’d had invitations to go out and celebrate her birthday but she’d had the willpower to turn them down, knowing she had an important event to attend.

Once the service was over, they all left the church, and once again, strange, English tradition prevailed and The Duke and Duchess came out first rather than the parents and baby. They were greeted warmly by the crowds who had come not only to see the Duke, but his handsome pop star son, his beautiful American wife and the tiny future Duke of Cheshire. Peter - Guy's father - was usually the most miserable man in the world, but in front of his public, he adopted a genial smile and waved; while Hilary, the Duchess, did the same. Viva was shivering in her pink Bruce Oldfield two-piece and just wanted to get back to Sherrington Castle - the family home, where it was relatively warm.

She was relieved when she saw Carol, the nanny heading towards her.

‘Shall I take Master Damian, your Ladyship?’ she asked. Back at home she called her Viva, but here the nanny was considered a member of staff, and if she called her employer by her first name in public, Viva’s in-laws would go crazy.

‘Could you?’ Viva replied, handing her son to Carol, taking care not to damage the antique Christening gown that had been in the family for eight generations. ‘Take him to the car, he's shivering.’

Without question, Carol took Damian, and Viva walked round to the side of the church, where the cars were parked. She practically threw herself into her father-in-law's Bentley - just to be out of the cold. Guy got in beside her and the chauffer started the engine.

‘Everything go okay Sir?’ he asked.

‘Perfect, thank you Holder,’ Guy replied in that officious voice he used with members of his father's staff. Catch him on the radio being interviewed by Kid Jensen, and he sounded as though he had grown up in the suburbs.

Viva glanced at her husband and noticed the bruise on his neck. It was a love bite and it certainly hadn't come from her - they hadn't had sex in over a month. Viva had suspected him of cheating on her for ages now, and here was the proof. Their fairytale had turned into a nightmare, and most of the time she wanted to escape. But to see his infidelity displayed so blatantly still felt like a dagger to her heart.

‘You could have at least covered that up,’ she said quietly.

‘What?’ he answered.

‘That thing on your neck.’

He reached up and touched the horrid stamp his lover had made.

‘It's nothing,’ he replied.

The Duke and Duchess's car in front started to move, and Holder put his foot down and drove off.

‘That's good,’ Guy said, rubbing his hands together. ‘I thought we were going to be stuck here forever.’

Chapter 1

May 1985

Ellie was not in the mood to be having a difficult day. She felt dreadful, her legs were like lead and a permanent feeling of queasiness sat in her stomach. She had never felt this way before, but a sixth sense told her what it was and she really did not want it to be happening. The last thing she needed, was to be dealing with a petulant pop star who was refusing to find any kindness in her heart - when so many others were willing to do so.

She went into the meeting room, where Alex, who was head of Publicity, was sitting with Lena White - Titan Record's biggest act. Lena had had three number ones on both sides of the Atlantic in just over a year and she was on her way to becoming a superstar. In America, she was seen as a novelty - the blonde haired white girl with a voice that sounded like Aretha Franklin’s, and she couldn’t put a foot wrong. This morning she looked dreadful. Her naturally curly hair was un-brushed and sticking up like a bird’s nest, and dark circles sat underneath her usually bright, blue eyes. Viva guessed she had probably spent the night before either getting pissed or snorting half of Columbia up her nose. It was her way of coping with fame, and before long it would become a problem – Ellie had seen it all before.

‘What's the matter Lena?’ Ellie asked, sitting down with her. ‘Why don’t you want to do Live Aid?’

‘I'm not singing on stage in the outdoors, in the middle of July for nuffin.’ Another anomaly of Lena's was the thick Bristol accent that went neither with her image or her singing voice.

‘But Bob Geldof asked for you personally,’ Ellie said, gripping her arm, feeling how bony it was through her linen Yamamoto jacket. Lena had actually been quite plump when they’d signed her just over a year ago; but the lifestyle choices she’d made had caused her to eschew food for other substances. ‘Imagine what it'll do for your image if you appear.’ Ellie couldn't believe she was using the same placating tone of voice she used on Angel or Rio to get them to comply to her wishes, on a twenty-seven year old woman. ‘People will think you're kind and buy even more of your records.’

‘If I do it, I want to do the Philadelphia one. And I want to fly out on Concorde.’

To Ellie's horror, her queasiness was becoming something more tangible. She could feel her stomach heaving and she knew she was going to be sick. She stood up hurriedly, knocking her chair backwards.

‘Are you okay Ellie?’ Alex asked.

‘Yeah, fine. Get onto Geldof's people. Tell them Lena will be playing Philadelphia.’

She ran from the room to the nearby toilets and didn't even make it to a cubicle – instead vomiting into a washbasin. Her head spun and her legs were shaking - partly from being sick and mostly with fear. She’d been married for six weeks and hadn't had a period since. It was different this time. With Angel she'd had no symptoms until she was five months gone. This one was making its presence felt already.

She had just finished rising the washbasin, when Alex came in, a concerned look on her prim, pretty little face.

‘Are you okay Ellie?’ she asked.

‘I think I'm pregnant,’ Ellie croaked. ‘Please, don't say a word to Zac. I need to get it confirmed first.’

‘Sure.’ Alex reached out and laid her hand on Ellie's shoulder. ‘Why don't you go home? You look dreadful.’

‘I feel pretty bad. When Zac comes back can you just tell him I had a migraine?’

‘Sure.’

‘And did you manage to calm Lena down?’

‘Just about. I've got Helen to book her onto Concorde - no expenses spared.’

‘Ridiculous. The price of a return flight on Concorde would feed an Ethiopian family for a decade!’

Ellie felt too woozy to drive home to Chelsea, so instead she called a cab. She sat back and thought about her situation. If she was pregnant, then by January next year she would have Angel, her year old daughter. Rio, her four year old ward. A newborn baby, and two stepchildren - one of them a teenage girl who hated her. Some days Ellie felt as though she was thirty-five instead of twenty-five, and she’d ask herself why she'd been so stupid to throw her childhood away by marrying Jake. Not that she regretted it - she wouldn’t have Angel otherwise. But she wished everything had happened a bit later. Just so she’d had the chance to be a teenager and enjoy herself.

She got home to find that Rio was home from nursery. She attended a small school in Sloane Square every morning, and her absence gave Julie, the nanny the chance to study for her law exams. Ellie wondered how she would feel about trying to look after Angel, Rio and a newborn as well as studying. Ellie doubted she would be up for it, which meant they’d be forced to take on an au pair – which would mean more expense and even more people living in the house.

‘Auntie Ellie!’ Rio called from the kitchen. ‘Come see!’

Ellie was exhausted and needed to sleep, but Rio was such a poppet. Even now Ellie felt guilty about the fact that all the poor little girl had in the world was her extended family. She never saw her mother, and because of this, Ellie found it so hard to say no to her.

She went into the kitchen and found Rio and Julie at the table. Rio's plate of fish fingers was untouched and it looked as though yet another food fad was over.

‘Look!’ Rio said, holding up a painting of two pink splodges surrounded by a lot of black paint.

‘What’s that my darling?’ Ellie asked.

‘You and Uncle Zac.’

‘That's wonderful. Did you do it at nursery?’

She nodded and passed the painting to Ellie.

‘Ooh I think I'll hang this above my desk at work,’ she said. ‘Everyone will wonder who this famous painter is.’

Rio giggled and picked up a fish finger - biting the end of it. She looked more and more like Jake with every passing day, with her huge brown eyes and cheeky face. The only concessions to Viva were her wavy, dark auburn hair, and freckles. Sometimes Ellie felt like dying Rio’s hair and pretending she was nothing to do with Viva at all.

‘You're home early,’ Julie said to her. ‘Are you alright?’

‘I'm feeling a little peaky. I'm just going to have a lie down, then pop to the doctors. I'll pick Angel up from school if you like.’

‘Thanks, that would be really helpful. While Rio has a sleep, I’ll get down to tackling marital law.’

‘Christ!’ Ellie exclaimed. ‘That's one I'd like to avoid at all costs.’

Angel's prep school was in Sydney Street - close to the Grantham's store; and when Ellie picked her up, she was tempted to pop in the shop and see if Daniel was around. Not that she had any intention of telling her step-father of her pregnancy suspicions - she just wanted to see a friendly face. But Angel started sneezing and rubbing her very red nose; and as it appeared her daughter was getting a cold, Ellie felt it best to take her straight home. Angel looked so cute in her grey uniform and boater. Ellie couldn't believe how quickly time was going. It seemed like yesterday she was born. Now here she was, a little girl with a mind of her own.

Thinking this made Ellie realise how different the new baby's birth would be. Zac would want to be there every step of the way; and all the Jewish relatives on both sides would descend. Each with their own, unique piece of advice. When Ellie had had Angel, she’d felt alone and scared and wondering what her husband was up to while he was away on tour. No such worries with Baby Meisel. Zac was always there.

‘Is Daddy still coming on Saturday?’ Angel asked.

‘He will if he gets his album finished darling. Did he say where he's taking you and Rio?’

‘He said it's a surprise.’

‘Well I'll miss you. A week without my girls is a long time.’

Ellie got home to find Julie and Rio in the living room, watching Blue Peter. Julie looked round at Ellie and passed her a piece of paper.

‘Urgent telephone call,’ she said. ‘St Agnes's. It's about Lucy.’

Just hearing her step-daughter's name set Ellie's teeth on edge. Their relationship was difficult to say the least. Lucy found it hard to respect a woman who wasn’t even old enough to be her mother, and Ellie could summon no maternal instinct for her step-daughter. When she tried to be charitable, she would feel a sense of pity because she knew, deep down, that Lucy missed Miriam, her dead mother. But that was no excuse for her terrible behaviour. She had been quite rude and abusive to Ellie, with little provocation, and made it quite clear that she didn’t think she was good enough for her father.

‘What's she done now?’ she groaned.

‘I don't know. But I get the feeling she might be in trouble.’

Ellie told Angel to go and sit with Julie and Rio, and took the piece of paper into the office at the back of the house. When she and Zac had bought this place in Flood Street six months ago, Ellie had insisted they had their own offices. Zac had found the idea preposterous seeing as they both worked for Titan Records, but Ellie liked having her own space. Zac was very tidy and precise, but Ellie liked having shelves stacked with books, and the rickety furniture came from Billingham House. The familiarity made her feel comfortable and she could work better that way.

She sat at her desk and phoned Mrs Hughes, the headmistress at St Agnes's. When Ellie had left there seven years ago, Mrs Hughes had been Head of English. Now she had been promoted to the top job and it embarrassed Ellie that the only contact she had with her these days was regarding her step-daughter’s bad behaviour.

‘Hello Ellie,’ she said. ‘I'm so sorry to bother you this late in the day. But I tried to call Mr Meisel’s office and he wasn’t there.’

‘He had a meeting this afternoon. What’s happened?’

‘Lucy’s been in a fight with another girl. I've got no choice but to suspend her until after half term. Could one of you please come and get her?’

Ellie groaned inwardly. The thought of two weeks stuck with Lucy was horrendous.

‘Yes of course. Why was she fighting?’

‘The other girl accused her of stealing a necklace. Unfortunately, we found the necklace on Lucy.’

‘Dear God,’ Ellie sighed. ‘Okay, we'll be there as soon as possible.’

Ellie hung up and called the office, wondering what the hell they were going to do with Lucy for the next fortnight. She wasn't fourteen until August and yet she was already going off the rails. Her brother Nathan was a sweet boy and was in his first year at Goldings, a Jewish boy's boarding school in Kent. He didn't resent Ellie or misbehave, whereas his sister was determined to make her life hell and drive a wedge into the marriage before it had even had a chance.

Zac picked up the phone just as Ellie was about to give up on him.

‘Zac Meisel,’ he chirped.

‘It's me. I’ve just spoken to Lucy's headmistress. She's been suspended.’

‘Suspended?! Why?’

‘She stole another girl's necklace and fought with her.’

‘Oh for God's sake,’ Zac sighed. ‘Okay I’ll go and get her.’

‘You don’t want me to come?’

‘No, she's my daughter, I'll deal with it.’

He rang off and Ellie sighed and sat back in her chair, wondering how she was going to break the news to the nanny, that she was going to have to keep an eye on Lucy now. With Angel and Rio away, Julie had been hoping to use the half-term holiday as study time. But no such luck. It would be her job to act as entertainer-stroke-prison warder to the brat from hell.

Ellie got up to leave the room, when the phone rang again. Cursing, she reached over and picked it up.

‘Hello,’ she sighed.

‘That bad is it?’ Jake laughed.

‘Worse. Lucy's been suspended from school for fighting. I'm going to have to put up with her for two weeks.’

‘Can't Zac look after her? She's his kid.’

‘She's my step-daughter now. It's my duty.’

‘Well I'm still taking Angel and Rio off your hands for the next week. We’re going to Ibiza.’

‘Ibiza?!’ she exclaimed. ‘Why are you taking them there?’

‘Bianca's got a shoot in San Antonio. She wants me to go but I'm going to be bored rigid. I'll have much more fun with my girls.’

‘And what happens to them when you and your wife want to go out partying?’

‘We're not going out partying. Well, I'm not. If Bianca wants to, she can. I’ll stay with the kids. Come on, they’ll love it. Say they can go.’

‘They can go, but if I find out you've neglected them or dumped them on someone so you can go living it up, I will kill you.’

‘Good to see you have such faith in me Ellie,’ he quipped. ‘I'll come and pick them up on Saturday.’

Jake's call did nothing for Ellie's blood pressure. She'd not anticipated him taking his daughters to Ibiza for half-term just because his new wife had a modelling assignment and was demanding his company. It was insulting enough that he had traded Ellie up for an American fashion model. That her children had to have their holidays planned around her just rubbed salt into the wounds.

But Ellie didn't have time to dwell on the selfishness of her ex-husband. She had to go upstairs and get Lucy's room ready for her homecoming. The top floor of the four storey house was just for Nathan and Lucy. There was a bedroom for each of them, and a bathroom they could share. The next floor down was where Zac and Ellie slept; and on the first floor were Angel, Rio and Julie's bedrooms. Ellie changed the bedding on Lucy's bed and made sure there were fresh towels in the bathroom. If there was the slightest thing wrong, her stepdaughter would soon let her know, and she’d never hear the end of it. Lucy lived just to make Ellie feel bad.

Zac and Lucy arrived home just as Ellie had finished putting Rio and Angel to bed. Sometimes the little girls liked to snuggle up together in Angel's bed, and tonight was one of them. Angel and Rio were so close and Ellie would have nightmares about the day Viva decided to come back and take Rio away. Not that that was likely to happen. Viva had made a new life for herself with Guy and their baby son and heir, and Ellie imagined that Rio was probably no more than an afterthought.

Lucy had grown since Ellie had last seen her and was now a couple of inches taller than her father. She was still wearing her brown St Agnes's uniform, and Ellie didn't remember being able to have the skirt quite so high in her day. Lucy was a very pretty girl who looked much older than her thirteen years; and with her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders and the make-up she must have plastered on her face on the way home, she made Ellie think of Viva. She imagined that her cousin had been very similar at nearly fourteen. Ellie certainly hadn't been like it. Up until she'd met Jake when she was eighteen, she'd been like a child.

‘Hello Lucy,’ she said, as Lucy threw her rucksack onto the sofa and flopped down next to it.

‘Stop being so rude Lucy,’ Zac said. ‘Say hello to Ellie.’

‘Lucy's probably just tired,’ Ellie said, trying to be nice to her. ‘Why don't you go up and get changed?’

Lucy stood up, narrowing her eyes at Ellie and forcefully picking up her bag.

‘You just want me out the way, don’t you?’ she snapped.

‘Don't be silly. You can change for dinner. I’ve made spaghetti bolognaise.’

‘I hate spaghetti bolognaise,’ Lucy uttered and she stomped up the stairs.

Once she was out of earshot, Zac gave Ellie a hapless smile and held out his arms. Ellie walked up to him and let him enfold her against his warm, stocky body. She hugged him tightly and decided she liked it best when they were alone and the rest of the world wasn’t on their case and interfering in their relationship.

‘It’ll be alright,’ he said. ‘It’s only for a couple of weeks.’

‘She’s never going to like me,’ Ellie sighed. ‘I can’t replace her mum.’

‘And she wouldn’t expect you to.’

He eased her away, and looked her in the eyes. When he gave that cheeky, wide-boy smile, Ellie couldn’t help but melt and be reminded of why she married him in the first place.

‘You just need to give her time.’

‘Maybe I’m too young to be her stepmother.’

‘Stop fretting. She’ll outgrow it.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘Come on, let’s have some dinner. She’ll come down when she gets hungry.’

Chapter 2

Viva couldn’t concentrate on anything today. Last night she’d dreamt about Rio again and she couldn’t get her daughter out of her mind. It always sat so badly with her that everyone behaved as though Damian was her first child. And of course, he was so important because he was the future Duke of Cheshire and they could trace his heritage back to William the Conqueror blah blah blah. No-one ever mentioned her four year old daughter living just a mile or so away.

Viva had sold her old Fulham home, and she and Guy now occupied a huge double-fronted townhouse on Kensington High Street. It frustrated Viva to know Ellie lived off Kings Road, which was a mere walk away. She’d found this out when she’d bumped into Jake at a party. He crowed on about what a wonderful mother Ellie was to Rio, and it had infuriated Viva. As if she didn’t feel guilty enough. She didn’t need Ellie painted as some sort of saint.

Not a day went by that Viva didn’t regret marrying Guy and giving up her daughter for him. She’d been so besotted with him that when he’d first shown signs of violence towards Rio, the thought of being without him was worse than living without her child. She’d given Rio to Ellie, so Guy wouldn’t hurt her, thinking it was for the best. Guy had no feeling for children at all. When Damian was born, he’d given him little more than a cursory glance, and then went out and enjoyed the bottles of champagne his friends bought him to celebrate producing an heir first time round. Viva loved Damian very much, but he should have been brought up alongside his older sister; not in his gilded Kensington palace - treated as though he was the most important human being who’d ever been born.

Viva knew she had to rally herself and quick. She was meeting with a man called Rob Bishop, a Liverpudlian entrepreneur who had recently bought out a small publishers called Russell’s. They’d started off publishing specialist interest magazines in the post-war period, but by the 1970s had resorted to producing cheap pornographic titles. Viva was only interested in buying one of them - Hercules. It was probably the ‘softest’ of the titles and Viva intended to turn it into an upmarket men’s monthly like Esquire and GQ - like they had back in the States. ‘Right Now’, her teenage magazine, was a huge success and had made a ton of money for Fourth Estate publishers; and Lionel Mullins, the owner was encouraging Viva to expand. And never one to refuse a challenge, she now wanted to turn her attention to the male market. There were far too few general magazines for men and Viva wanted to tap into that.

Bishop insisted they meet at The Jolly Sailor, a pub in Soho he’d recently purchased and was in the process of turning into a comedy club. These clubs were cropping up everywhere due to the success of places like The Comedy Store, and the Comic Strip on TV. Viva guessed Bishop wanted to meet on his own territory so he could control things. She’d been doing business with men long enough now to know that everything had to be on their terms. Dare to argue and you were made to feel like some half-crazed, power-mad harpy.

The Jolly Sailor was a rather seedy-looking place towards the end of Old Compton Street - sandwiched between a gay massage parlour and a Chinese restaurant. Places like this always made Viva think of Iris, her mother, and the seedy life she'd led before marrying above herself. This area must have been her stomping ground.

The pub was as grimy on the inside as it was on the outside. The woodwork was chipped, and behind the bar, there were no optics. Instead, bottles of spirits stood on top of it, ripe for taking by some light-fingered punter. Standing by it was a fat man squeezed into a well-cut suit, a thin cigar hanging from his mouth. He looked like a pimp with his slicked back hair, dark eyes, three day stubble and the gold stud earring in his left ear. He eyed Viva appreciatively and this made her blood curdle.

‘Well well well, Lady Fitzwilliam,’ he said walking towards her. ‘You look even more gorgeous in the flesh than you do in the papers.’

‘It's Viva,’ she said, offering her hand. He took it and brought it to his lips. Viva winced, wondering what kind of germs he was carrying. She still didn't know if this was Bishop. He had an accent, but even after seven years of living in England, she often found it hard to work out who was from where.

‘Rob Bishop,’ he said, finally letting go of her hand. ‘What you drinking sweetheart?’

‘I'll just have a Perrier water thank you.’

‘You sure? You can have what you like.’

‘Perrier water's fine.’

He walked round to the other side of the bar and started looking amongst the bottles.

‘Yer in luck,’ he announced. ‘We've got Perrier. Go and get a table, I'll be with you in a minute.’

Viva managed to find a table with a couple of chairs that didn’t look as though they were falling apart. She looked around and wondered why anyone would come here to be entertained. It stank of stale cigarettes, alcohol and disinfectant. Even the little stage at the front was tacky, with a purple, shiny backdrop which was more suited to a stripper than a comedian.

Bishop came back with the drinks and sat before her

‘What do you think of my little palace?’ he asked, sipping his whisky.

‘It'll need a lot of work,’ Viva replied, never one to hide her distaste. ‘Will people actually come here?’

‘Course they will. Comedy’s all the rage. Anyway, down to business. Why you interested in Hercules?’

‘Well, there are no general lifestyle magazines for men. It's always specific interest - photography, fishing, nude girls. Why not a magazine that combines all three?’

‘Woman's Own for men you mean?’ he smirked.

‘Yes. I think it would sell. Lionel Mullins commissioned some market research and fifty nine percent of men said they would buy a magazine like it.’

‘Listen luv, it’s no skin off my nose what you do with it. I just want a decent offer.’

‘How much do you make on Hercules each month?’

‘Not a lot. It tries to be something it ain't Viva. There's articles about cars, and