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Frankie took one last look at him, her face full of hatred and anger, then stepped out of the car.

Dan had driven straight home, and when he opened the front door, Shauna was standing in their enormous hallway, her face full of concern.

‘Dan, where have you been? I’ve been so worried.’

He took her in his arms, gave her a brief hug and said, ‘I’m OK, I just had to take care of something. I’m back now.’

‘Dan, please, I know something is wrong. You have to let me in.’

His shoulders sagged. ‘I know … these last few years have been tough on both of us.’ He kissed her on the forehead and held her tight. ‘I love you, Shauna, and after we’ve had dinner with Gary and Eric tonight, I promise I’ll tell you everything.’

‘Everything?’

‘Yes, no secrets, not any more.’

Dan had ordered a steak and a crème brûlée at dinner and Eric had ribbed him about it. ‘You English guys are all the same, everything is full of calories and cholesterol.’

‘These public schoolboys are still obsessed with school dinners,’ Shauna joked. She’d squeezed Dan’s hand and he’d squeezed hers in return. She looked dazzling tonight, he thought, casual yet elegant in a tailored grey trouser suit which showed off her curves. She’d sparkled all evening, bouncing off Eric and making him and Gary laugh with stories of her Irish childhood, stealing a penny from the collection plate in church and then being made by her mother to apologize to the priest in person, who told her to pray the five joyful mysteries a thousand times on her rosary until she was truly sorry.

His heart ached with the knowledge that things would never be the same after tonight, when he finally told her the truth about Frankie and the son he had denied. Dan knew his marriage might not survive. He felt shame not only at that, but also at the terrible unkindness he had inflicted on a child who was completely blameless. He couldn’t even blame Frankie; this was his fuck-up and he’d have to pay for it. He felt his chest tighten and a pain shot up his left arm.

‘Excuse me,’ he said, standing up and pushing his chair back.

‘Are you OK, darling?’ Shauna asked him.

‘Yes, of course, I’ll be back in a moment.’

He walked to the Men’s washroom and locked himself in a cubicle, taking one of the small paper wraps from his pocket; these days he was never without a supply. On his knee, he rested the mirror, the chopped up the lines and snorted them quickly, his hands shaking as he did so. But instead of the usual high, he felt his tight chest worsen, along with the pain in his left arm. This time the tightness was worse, and it was a struggle to breathe. It took a great deal of effort to make his way out of the washroom and back to the table. As he approached, he could hear Eric saying, ‘Apparently they’re heading for divorce, it’s the worst-kept secret in Tinseltown. She is sick of his controlling ways and that weird cult he’s in thrall to. Trust me, she’s gonna walk.’

Shauna looked towards Dan and stood up immediately, ‘Darling, you’re ill …’

Eric stood up quickly too, shouting for the waiter to call an ambulance, but by now the pain was radiating from Dan’s chest across his entire body. He tried to reach out for Shauna but suddenly if felt as if she were a million miles away. Try as he might, he couldn’t get to her.

The voices around him faded away. All Dan wanted was to speak to Shauna, to tell her he loved her and that he was sorry, but the only sound that came out of his mouth was a strangled gasp. He fell to the floor with Shauna beside him, tears streaming down her face, as her lips seemed to be saying, ‘Don’t leave me, Dan … don’t go …’

Then, everything around Dan went black and there were no more words, only silence.

Chapter 20

Beverly Hills, July 2000

Shauna O’Brien adjusted the neat pillbox hat on her head and pulled the net down over her face, praying it would blur her swollen, red-rimmed eyes. Even a make-up artist as gifted as Mel couldn’t disguise the storm that had ravaged her face, leaving it dry and cracked, as if all her tears had sucked the very moisture from her skin. Was it really only a week since this nightmare had begun? With a shaking hand, she smoothed down the skirt of the Chanel suit, a little looser around the waist than when she’d worn it last.

Stiffening, she straightened and tugged at the neat, nipped-in-at-the-waist jacket. Her fingers shook as they closed over the heavy silk-satin fabric.

‘You set to go?’ Isaac’s voice was gentle but businesslike. Today, she was grateful for his steadiness, his guidance and his admin assistant’s near perfect organizational skills. Lifting her chin, she nodded. Like him, she knew that the moment she stepped through that door the television crews and paparazzi clamouring at the gates of the funeral home would be straining to capture a glimpse of the grieving Shauna Jackson.

Without a word, she reached out and gently squeezed Issacs’s arm as he pulled open the door, letting the Californian sunshine spill inside. She was aware of the sudden flurry as everyone moved forward, first the funeral director and his team, then Mel and Roxy flanking her on one side with Isaac on the other.

At the sight of the big black hearse waiting in front of the limousine and the formally attired undertaker holding the door open, all her hard-won composure almost crumbled. Nothing had prepared her for this. She slid into the car and stared straight ahead as the others climbed in on either side of her. Roxy laid a hand on her gloved hand and squeezed but didn’t say anything as the car smoothly drew away.

As the gates opened, the paparazzi began snapping away, despite the heavily tinted windows. No one said a word in the car as it followed the stately hearse, the car sweeping down the hill and through the streets to join the four-lane highway of Santa Monica Boulevard, a sedate convoy among the flashy Bentley convertibles, behemoth Range Rovers, open-top Ferraris and Lamborghinis that cruised the street at this time of the day. Isaac had told her to expect the service to be packed to the rafters. People instinctively liked Dan. What wasn’t to like? Good-looking, personable and always the first to support the underdog. He had a streak of kindness in him as wide as the Shannon River back home.

After a smooth left turn and then another, the car slowed and came to a halt outside the historic Church of the Good Shepherd. As she stepped out into to the mid-morning heat, Shauna stared at the cream stuccoed building with its twin four-tiered bell towers topped with golden domes that shimmered in the brilliant sunshine. A cloudless blue sky framed the pretty church, seeming merciless in its endless expanse. Shauna searched the sky, wishing there was just one cloud she could focus on so that she wouldn’t have to acknowledge the oak coffin with its brass fittings glinting gaudily in the sunshine. One cloud to which she could anchor her imagination to take her away from this. She’d deliberately asked for the service to be held without mass. Her mother would have been horrified, but Shauna couldn’t bear to prolong the agony of saying goodbye.

The cool interior of the church was already full as the solemn procession made its way inside. The priest greeted them and sprinkled holy water on the coffin. Just another day for him in a holy place that had seen many funerals, including those of Rudolf Valentino, Alfred Hitchcock, Frank Sinatra and Rita Hayworth, to name but a few. Heads began to turn as Shauna made her way to the pew at the front of the church. So many familiar faces. Brad and Jen, looking as chic and beautiful as ever in near-matching tailored suits. A few rows in front were Harrison Ford and his wife Melissa, who both gave her sober, emotionless nods. Dan’s family were waiting for her at the front, except his mother, too heartbroken and elderly to make the trip. Shauna tightened her lips as a burst of resentment bloomed in her chest. Her mother had said it was too short notice for her parents to fly to LA.

Horribly aware of all the gazes settling on her, she focused on the ornate marble altarpiece, her eyes occasionally straying to the coffin. Shauna wished for a moment that she had just an ounce of the faith that had shaped her mother. She would not think of Dan’s body lying in there. Not think that he’d never give her that slow, easy smile again. That those warm brown eyes wouldn’t twinkle at her over the tops of his Raybans when they shared a private joke. An involuntary sob shook her. She lifted her chin higher. She’d get through this and make Dan proud of her. Even though she had no idea what she was going to do without him. Her mouth crumpled and her lower lip shook as she desperately tried to reign back the emotion. Her tears for Dan were private, not for public consumption. She was an actress, for God’s sake. Act, you fool, she told herself. But it was no good, the sobs hiccoughed their way into her throat no matter how hard she fought them, and tears brimmed and fell. Roxy’s hand found its way into hers as she stared straight ahead.