The Club(72)

Georgia shook her head again, faking ignorance. ‘I was on the other side of the world,’ she said, spacing her words carefully, emphasizing each syllable. ‘We were shooting all through the holidays, I remember because the crew kept blocking off the beach to film and they kept getting complaints. We had a big Christmas lunch at the hotel, a New Year’s Eve party. And we didn’t wrap – you can check this, this information is out there – until, I don’t know, the tenth, the eleventh of January. And Jackson was making a film too, over here, down in Pinewood.’ Was it Jess’s imagination or was there a slight quiver in her voice, when she got to that last part?

‘You’re a liar.’ Of course, Jess had checked Georgia’s whereabouts that night, just as she had checked Jackson’s. But she also knew what she had seen – had always known what she had seen. And now she had the memory stick too.

The music was getting so loud that even as close as they were, Jess needed to shout in her mask to be heard, and as they spoke the twirling dancers flung themselves, flung each other around the room.

Georgia tried to shake her wrist free of Jess’s grasp. Instead, Jess tightened it. Then Georgia did shout, did call out for help, continued trying to shake her arm free and pull away. But over the music – those shrieking fiddles, the stamping of feet – her cries were barely audible even from where Jess was standing, and nobody could see Georgia’s expression behind her mask. And still the music grew louder, and still faster spun the dancers. And their expressions were still frozen, their grins as rictus-set as the grins on the faces of the masks surrounding the dancefloor.

And that was when Jess realized that Georgia was shouting Jackson’s name, that she was looking around the room, scanning the faces, scanning the eyes, calling his name and still trying to pull her arm free and trying with her other hand to push Jess away.

He’s dead. That was what Jess wanted to tell Georgia. Jackson Crane was dead and as soon as Jess removed the ‘Do Not Disturb’ notice from his cabin’s notes and someone found the body, the police would be called, and they would search cabin ten and they would search cabin forty-two. And once they had established what was in Georgia’s cabin and when they had established what was in Jackson’s body, it was clear what conclusions they would come to. And Jess would tell her that, and she would tell her soon, but not yet – not until she had some kind of confession, not until she saw something in Georgia’s eyes that showed her she knew exactly what Jess was talking about.

‘I saw you with my own eyes, that night in the car. I saw you in the car.’

She tried to keep her voice steady but despite herself Jess could feel a note of desperation slipping into it, could feel the first hint of a suspicion that this was not working out according to plan, that her control of the situation was slipping. How long ago they seemed, those childish dreams of confronting Georgia and Georgia confessing, immediately breaking down and begging her forgiveness.

‘It’s on tape, you know. Recorded. At Country Home. That was where you were driving to, that night, wasn’t it? Where you drove back to. You and Jackson.’

Still the music went on, the dancers dripping sweat now, their grins painful even to look at, one of the violinists just sawing away over and over at the same top-note.

Jess felt a pressure in her forearm and she looked down and found that Georgia was gripping it just as hard as Jess was grasping her arm. And Georgia brought her masked face up to Jess’s masked face, so close they were staring directly into each other’s eyes, so close Jess could make out every vein, every tiny capillary, could see each individual clump of mascara on those famous eyelashes, so close that even over the noise she could hear Georgia’s voice clearly as she spoke.

‘I have no idea what you are talking about,’ she said, with equal emphasis on every word.

For a moment there was a flicker of doubt in Jess’s mind, and then she reminded herself this was an award-winning actress she was talking to, this person with whom she was now practically wrestling in public, while the dancers span and swooped and leaped, while the music swirled, while the crowd jostled and whooped and cheered.

Jess tried to pull away. Georgia maintained her grip. Jess glanced down at her arm.

‘Look, I don’t know anything about any car accident. I’ve never heard anything about any car accident. I don’t know what this footage is, or how you’ve obtained it. And I don’t know who the hell you are. But there is something I need to tell you. Okay? Listening? Listening?’

Georgia’s voice was firm, now. Her gaze was steady. Their masks were practically touching.

‘There is a reason we always have separate hotel rooms. My husband and I. There is a reason I never visit him on set, when he’s away filming something somewhere – and vice versa. It’s not a normal life we lead. It’s not a normal marriage. How could it be? You can’t have any idea – I didn’t have any idea – what it’s like to live the way he does. The way we do. The pressure. The temptation. The adulation. The scrutiny. Do you understand what I am saying?’

Jess was silent.

‘Do you understand?’ Georgia asked again. ‘Jackson fucks other people. He’s always fucked other people. And I’ve always known about it. The affairs. The one-offs. It’s not exactly the best kept secret in the business. But there are rules. There are boundaries.’