Black Mail (2012) Read Online Free

legs, displayed to full advantage by a minuscule black dress. She held her champagne flute at an angle until the bubbles died down, then straightened her glass. When Simon topped it up to the brim she fluttered her long eyelashes in appreciation.
    ‘Put on a few pounds since the last time I saw you, little sister?’ Jude said, popping an olive into her mouth.
    ‘Miaow!’ Helen jabbed out her tongue.
    ‘No!’ Jude laughed. ‘It was meant as a compliment. You were far too thin. It wasn’t healthy.’
    ‘Not a lot I could do about it,’ Helen shrugged. ‘I had to waste away to almost nothing for a swimsuit catalogue during the summer, but the shoot in Rio last week was more interested in the handbags and the shoes than the models so I could afford to let myself go a bit.’
    ‘And you’ve definitely decided to pack it in?’
    ‘You’d better believe it! Ten years of that lifestyle is enough for anyone. Besides, Bjorn wants to see me for more than a couple of days a month, which suits me down to the ground. The days of starving myself so I could flounce down a catwalk are behind me for ever.’
    ‘Welcome to the civilised world,’ Jude said, offering the platter.
    Helen took a cheese finger and raised her glass in front of her eyes. ‘Cheers!’ She toasted the room. ‘Another thing I won’t miss about the fashion circuit is being ogled by dirty old men,’ she added disdainfully. ‘There was one particular pervert who seemed to get a press pass for all the London shows. I never did find out his name. I’m not even sure he was attached to a magazine. He would always turn up early, grab a seat in the front row and sit with his nose stuck in a newspaper until a model appeared in something skimpy, then he’d leer at her through his piggy little eyes. I’m sure that all he lived for was a flash of nipple.’
    ‘There’s plenty more where he came from.’ Jude curled her lip.
    Helen popped the cheese finger into her mouth and washed it down with a long sip of champagne. ‘It’s a shame Alison and Norman weren’t able to make it tonight. It’s ages since I’ve seen either of them.’
    ‘Anyone mad enough to buy a farmhouse in Ballinluig has to live with the consequences.’ Jude smoothed down her silk dress. ‘Getting snowed in comes with the territory. When I spoke to Alison on the phone she told me they haven’t been able to put a foot across the threshold since last Saturday.’
    ‘There’s something comforting about that,’ Bjorn said. ‘Don’t you think so, Simon?’ Bjorn Svensson’s English was fluent, albeit with typically Nordic, stretched-out vowels.
    ‘Comforting about what?’.
    ‘Don’t you think there must be something very satisfying about being completely cut off from the rat race?’ Bjorn was perched on the edge of a high-backed chair in front of the smokeless fuel fire. His hair was spiked with gel and his long fingers fiddled constantly with his deeply dimpled chin. A hired dinner jacket sat awkwardly on his narrow, sloping shoulders.
    ‘I can see the pros and cons,’ Simon said, balancing his buttocks against the arm of the settee while adding a splash of champagne to his already half-full glass. ‘However, if I had the choice, I’d rather live within range of civilisation during the week – by which I mean decent pubs and restaurants – as long as I had the option of heading off to the wide open spaces at the weekends when –’ His comment was interrupted by the jangle of the Westminster chimes. ‘That’ll be Laura and Mike – late as always,’ he said, placing his glass and the champagne bottle down on the coffee table.
    Mike Harrison stomped the snow from his shoes on the doormat as he ushered his wife in ahead of him. ‘It’d freeze the goolies off a brass one out there,’ he complained, tugging off his scarf and overcoat and shaking out the sleet. ‘My knees are redraw. If I’d known it was going to be chucking it down like this I’d have come in