Free An Affair of the Heart by David George Richards Page B

as soon as she
appeared, and in an instant she was at the centre of a howling mob.
Other passengers were barged out of the way, and luggage was
knocked from some of the trolleys. One angry man, seeing his wife
pushed aside, punched a photographer, and the camera fell to the
floor with a smash. There was complete pandemonium.
    Police and
airport security suddenly appeared and pushed their way through.
They began to push the reporters out of the way, making room for
Diana and the other passengers to get through. There were shouts
and screams as Diana Williams slowly forced her way out to the
street, where a black BMW was waiting for her. She got in, and it
speeded away, quickly leaving behind the odd few photographers who
chased after it, cameras clicking.
    Diana could
hardly speak once she got into the car. She was completely out of
breath. She had no idea what had happened to her suitcase. A man
dressed in a grey uniform, who she thought was one of the security
men, had taken it from her in the rush to get to the car, and that
was the last she had seen of it. She had to just hope that it was
now safely in the boot of the car.
    Diana turned to
look at the red haired woman sitting next to her on the back seat.
She was very well dressed in a red suit, the long skirt of which
had a very high split. Her legs were crossed, and the split in her
skirt hung open, revealing light red stockings and a glimpse of one
suspender.
    Diana was
suddenly conscious of her own appearance. She had been in a rush
that morning. She had packed hurriedly, and she hadn’t had a chance
to change before she caught the flight. She wore a pair of black
trousers, a short white top, and her battered black leather jacket.
She was wearing no make-up, and after the scuffle at the airport,
she probably looked like she had been pulled through a hedge
backwards, and then run over by a number 53 bus. Somehow she had
the feeling that she was at a disadvantage.
    “My name is
Helen Worthington,” the red haired woman said in a silky tone. She
smiled at Diana as she continued, “I’m your father’s solicitor. He
thought that it might be a good idea for you to be met at the
airport. I’m sorry to see that he was right. However, I did warn
him that this might happen. I think my driver got your bag. Apart
from the arrival, did you have a pleasant flight?”
    “Yes, er, it
was fine,” Diana replied, trying to brush her dishevelled hair back
into some semblance of order. “Thank you for picking me up. I was a
bit worried there for a while. What’s happening? As soon as I heard
that Sarah had died, I called dad. He told me to get on the next
plane.”
    Helen looked at
Diana closely. She had already learned all there was to know about
her. Diana was Alex’s daughter from his first wife. She had grown
up with her mother, who was still very bitter towards her former
husband, so there had been no contact between father and daughter
throughout her childhood. But at fifteen Diana had become a model,
and by eighteen she had left home to live in London. That was when
she had first started to visit her father again. Sometimes she
brought a friend with her. And soon the friend was visiting Alex
more often than she was. That friend was Sarah. And soon after that
they were married. Now Diana lived in Milan, but her accent was
still pure Mancunian.
    She was sort of
beautiful, Helen thought, as she eyed Diana’s small waist and
exposed midriff. If you liked that sort of face and shape, that is.
Now aged twenty-two, Diana was five foot ten inches tall and rather
thin. Her face was angular, and she had Alex’s nose and brown eyes.
Her hair was long and black, reaching down to the small of her
back. But for a fashion model who was supposed to be used to being
centre stage, Helen didn’t think she had much sense of the
occasion.
    “Your father’s
having a difficult time at the moment,” Helen began. “It’s not just
Sarah’s death, you understand. It’s what happened to