Beach Combing Read Online Free PDF Page B

Lara?’
    He didn’t wait for her to reply. ‘Well, maybe we’ll leave the jelly and ice cream aside, but we’ll definitely have fireworks and party bags. I’ll get my party planners on to it straight away.’
    Lara was mystified by Jago’s idea. She’d assumed that the holiday in Cornwall was to get away from the hustle and bustle of showbiz life and spend some quality time with Alfie. He was loaded with cash so he could easily stop working for a few weeks and chill out by the sea. She was suddenly reminded of an F Scott Fitzgerald quote she’d learned at school: ‘Let me tell you about the very rich. They are different from you and me.’ That was for sure, she thought. Jago Dunlop was on a different planet from everyone else she knew.
    ‘La -wa can come too, can’t she Daddy?’ added Alfie anxiously.
    ‘Of course she can. And do bring a friend, Lara. You won’t know many of my friends so it will be good for you to have company. Right. We’ll plan it for our last night, and we’ll have an amazing firework display at the end. Rockets, Roman candles, Catherine wheels, we’ll have the lot. St Grace won’t know what’s hit it.’
    Lara’s heart sank. She didn’t know anyone in St Grace. Who the hell could she possibly invite?
     
    Once Jago set his mind to something he made it happen. The next few days whizzed by in a mad whirl as caterers, florists, firework specialists and magicians trooped through the house carrying clipboards and looking like they were organising the next G8 summit. Jago had summoned Marcia Daly, his scarily-efficient PA, down from London and she was planning the party like a military operation. Lara tried to stay out of her way as much as possible because while Marcia was sickly sweet when Jago was in earshot she had a habit of flying off the handle with everyone else.
    Two days before the party, Lara’s ruses to avoid Marcia came a cropper when the formidable PA marched into the kitchen without warning. Jessie, Jago’s cook, had rushed out to the supermarket but had agreed that Lara and Alfie could use the kitchen to bake cupcakes while she was gone. Lara couldn’t believe her luck. She loved cooking but rarely bothered with anything more adventurous than beans on toast in her grimy student flat. The thought of being allowed to use Jago’s state of the art kitchen was even more exciting than learning to surf. Lara was gingerly lifting Alfie’s second batch of cakes out of the massive cooking range when Marcia bustled in with her iPad. She never went anywhere without it.
    ‘So here you are, Lara,’ she said frostily. ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’
    ‘Morning Marcia,’ replied Lara. She hurriedly shoved the cakes on the side and wiped her hands on a towel. ‘How can I help?’
    Lara had first met Marcia back in June, when she signed her contract of employment at Jago’s house. Marcia had made Lara feel as insignificant as something the cat dragged in – and nothing had changed in the meantime. Today, as always, Marcia looked immaculate in a crisp white shirt, tight black pencil skirt and highly polished stilettos, while Lara was wearing a pair of old jeans with holes in both knees, a Topshop vest and a pair of ballet pumps that had seen better days. Most shaming of all, she had smears of chocolate icing on her face (she and Alfie had been licking the bowl out) and her top was covered in flour and sugar.
    ‘I’ve sent you three emails already this morning and you haven’t had the courtesy to reply,’ snapped Marcia. ‘It’s very unprofessional, you know.’
    ‘Sorry,’ said Lara. ‘We’ve been so busy baking that I haven’t had a minute to look at my laptop. And my phone’s out of battery.’
    ‘It’s not good enough, Lara. You’ll have to pull your socks up, you know. It’s imperative that Jago is able to contact you at all times.’
    Lara sighed with exasperation. ‘Of course he can contact me at all times, Marcia. We haven’t been out of the