Page 5 of Meet Me at Sunset

‘Oh, you know. Busy as usual,’ Camille said lightly. ‘Making sure everything goes perfectly for the launch.’

‘I know it will,’ Lucas reassured her. ‘You’re a perfectionist.’

‘That’s very sweet of you, darling.’ Camille turned to her assistant. ‘Thank you, René. That will be all for now. I’ll let you know when I need you.’

‘Of course. Enjoy your lunch. Good to see you again Lucas.’ He nodded.

Camille linked her arm through her son’s and steered him towards the terrace. ‘I reserved a table for us,’ she explained, as they left the Sunset Room and meandered through the expansive gardens, crossing a small, cobbled courtyard with a stone fountain, where dragonflies dipped to drink, and large white butterflies fluttered around the dusty lilac hortensia bushes.

They were shown to a pretty stone table, dressed in white linen, beneath a wooden pergola draped with greenery to create welcome shade. Both declined the wine list and stuck to sparkling water; Lucas was working later, and Camille wanted to stay sharp in case she was needed for further launch preparations that afternoon.

‘So, Maman, how was the flight?’

‘Fine, though I’m feeling rather tired with all the travelling.’

‘Did you come straight from New York?’

‘Yes, I did …’ There was hesitation in Camille’s voice.

‘With Nicolas? How is he?’

‘Oh, he’s … the same old Nicolas, you know.’

‘I’m looking forward to seeing him at the launch.’

Camille sipped her ice-cold drink, glad that she was wearing sunglasses so Lucas couldn’t read her expression. ‘I’m not sure whether he’s coming. He might have to stay in the States for work.’

Lucas frowned, sensing that something wasn’t right. ‘You two haven’t had an argument, have you? Not about business? Nicolas always goes along with whatever you say,’ he laughed.

Camille smiled ruefully. ‘Perhaps a few creative differences,’ she conceded. ‘But nothing for you to worry about.’ She knew how much Lucas liked Nicolas and looked up to him. After Andre’s death, Nicolas had become a father figure to Lucas, and the two men respected one another enormously. To her relief, her son had accepted her relationship with Nicolas, mature enough to see the happiness and stability it brought her. But today, she didn’t want to talk about him … couldn’t talk about him.

‘Let’s change the subject – I want to have a relaxing day today. I plan to spend the afternoon round the pool doing nothing more taxing than reading a Jackie Collins novel. This coming week will be so hectic. Did I tell you I’m meeting Catherine tomorrow to talk about designing a gown for her?’

‘Catherine—?’

‘Zeta-Jones,’ Camille clarified, as Lucas raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed. ‘Her people got in touch with my people – she likes what I do,’ Camille elaborated, with a small shrug, but a look of excitement in her eyes. ‘I’ve wanted to dress her for years – though, of course, she’s so beautiful she could make a garbage bag look incredible. You know that she and Michael have a villa along the coast? The S’Estaca estate?’

‘Yes, they’re regulars at Il Paradiso whenever they’re on the island,’ Lucas nodded, naming his restaurant.

‘Well, that’s perfect,’ Camille smiled. ‘How is everything going with the business? And are you still dating Elle? I want to know all your news …’

A waitress arrived to take their food order, and mother and son settled down for a leisurely lunch and a long overdue catch-up.

‘Oh, Stuart, this is exactly what I needed,’ Isobel sighed, as the two of them left their hotel room and headed for the main pool. She’d changed into a pale gold bikini with a coordinating silk kaftan thrown over the top and a Hermès scarf tied around her head to keep off the sun. With her vintage cat-eye sunglasses, Isobel hoped she was channelling a Grace Kelly vibe.

‘I’m glad you’re happy,’ Stuart smiled, as they headed for two empty loungers and sank down on the thick blue-and-white cushions.

Isobel removed her kaftan and settled back for a spot of people-watching. The Spanish heat on her bare skin felt delicious, the familiar scent of sun lotion and coconut oil in the air. The sky above was a perfect shade of blue and completely cloudless, only the occasional aeroplane flying high overhead.

Around the large, rectangular swimming pool, everyone looked so glamorous, the women slender and toned, the men muscled and bronzed, some in European-style tiny trunks that left little to the imagination. Isobel watched admiringly as one guy pulled himself out of the pool with ease, his muscles flexing, water racing down his broad torso, discreet designer logos peppering his swimwear and sunglasses.

Beside Isobel, Stuart leaned across, his fingertips tracing a line up and down her arm as he softly stroked her skin. ‘Mmm, this is the life, isn’t it? We should do this more often. I tell you what, why don’t we relax here for a while, have a couple of cocktails, then head back to our room for a siesta?’ He narrowed his eyes wolfishly.

But Isobel was no longer listening. Her attention had been taken by a woman standing on the other side of the pool. She was wearing a glamorous red swimming costume teamed with an enormous sunhat, its wide brim covering most of her face.

Who needs a parasol? Isobel thought with a smile.

The woman looked wealthy, in that indefinable way – though that was hardly unusual at the Palacio del Sol Radiante. She was older than Isobel, perhaps in her early fifties, but she was in great shape, with long, lean muscles that came from a dedicated regime of yoga and Pilates. She had a glowing tan that clearly wasn’t from a bottle, but spoke of holidays in exotic destinations and winters spent on ski slopes at the most exclusive resorts. Her expensively coloured hair swished out below her straw hat, and her gold jewellery was timeless and elegant.