by Lyons, Mary
‘For goodness’ sake! There’s no need to yell at me like this,’ Alex snapped.
‘As far as you’re concerned—I feel quite free to do anything I like!’ he roared, his temper now quite clearly out of control. ‘I really thought that we’d got it together. That I had, after all these years, been finally reunited with the girl of my dreams. And, after that wonderful night we spent together, I was quite certain of it.’ He spun around to glare at her. ‘Poor fool, me—huh?’
‘But...but, Leo...’
‘Once again, you’re quite right, Alex,’ he grated bitterly. ‘The word “but” should have been printed in capital letters—certainly as far as our relationship was concerned. Because you didn’t care what you did—or who you hurt—in the pursuit of your stupid story. You didn’t know Fiona. So why should you give a toss about her problems? After all, you simply had a job to do, right?
‘So, why should you know or care that it was Ethel who tipped off the newspapers, hoping to put public pressure on me to marry her daughter? Why should you be interested in the fact that poor Fiona—admittedly a rather weak personality—dreaded being hounded into an unwanted marriage? Or that the net result of your article would likely make it even harder than ever for Fiona and I to escape the machinations of Ethel Bliss? And I was fair game, too, wasn’t I?’
‘That’s not true,’ Alex protested.
‘Oh, yes, it is!’ he stormed, pacing up and down the room once more. ‘It only needed just one comment from a hack journalist—who’s clearly got a mind like a sewer!—and you had the fact that I was a raving Casanova firmly planted in your brain.’
He spun around on his heel to glare at her. ‘For God’s sake, Alex. I’m thirty-one years of age. Did you seriously expect me not to have had any girlfriends in the past? Or do you think that I should have shut myself up in a monastery?’
There was a sudden noise of laughter and giggles out in the corridor, and the door was suddenly thrown open.
‘I say...’ a young, fair-haired man enquired. ‘Have any of you people seen my girlfriend, Rachel?’
‘Get out!’ Leo growled, not bothering to turn around as he continued to gaze sternly down at Alex.
There was a brief gasp before, with muttered apologies, the young man quickly vanished from sight, softly closing the door behind him.
‘To sum up what I was saying, when we were so rudely interrupted,’ Leo continued grimly. ‘You were never a “notch on my bedpost”, Alex. The truth is, that after only one night of passion—please note, I did say only one night—I realised that I was deeply in love with you. That you were the girl I wanted to marry. But I now see that I was living in a fool’s paradise.’
Leo gave a heavy sigh. ‘You’re clearly incapable of understanding that a relationship means nothing—’ he snapped his fingers contemptuously in the air ‘—if one of the persons involved either doesn’t know or refuses to learn the meaning of trust.’
He stared silently down at the girl for a moment, noting the hectic flush spreading over her cheeks and the fact, for once, she didn’t seem to have anything to say.
‘So silent? Well, that does make a change!’ he ground out sarcastically. ‘You’re a very rich and clearly a very spoiled young girl. Maybe you don’t realise that I do actually take my job very seriously indeed. And when, after a brief meeting at the bank early last Friday morning, I found myself having to jet off to America with little or no warning, I—poor fool!—assumed that if you didn’t immediately hear from me you’d realise that I’d get in touch with you as soon as I could. Unfortunately, as it turned out, I unexpectedly found myself in a large, remote estate in Connecticut with no telephone to hand.
‘Bankers don’t just count money,’ he told her sternly. ‘They are often used as honest brokers when two large corporations are thinking of merging. And that’s exactly what happened last week. All the telephones had been barred, to prevent any of the principals trying to make a killing on Wall Street, and it was only by a lot of special pleading on my part that I managed to get hold of a mobile phone in order to try and make a brief call to you. And, raving idiot that I am, I also persuaded the principals to let me leave ahead of everyone else. So that I could catch a flight on Concorde and be back in time to appear at this damned ball. All these efforts designed, purely and simply, not to let you down.’
Alex had never realised what the expression ‘ready to sink through the floor’ meant, but she now definitely bad a good idea. As the frozen ice around her heart began cracking and melting away, she was forced to acknowledge that Leo had been quite right. She hadn’t trusted him.
‘Where...where is Fiona?’ she muttered in a small voice.
Leo shrugged. ‘With her vet, presumably.’
‘Her... what?’ Alex frowned in puzzlement.
‘The veterinary surgeon who looks after her horses.’ Leo gave another heavy sigh, the anger seeming to drain out of his tall figure as he strolled across the room to stare out of the heavily draped window at the headlights of the traffic cruising up and down Park Lane.
‘Fiona never wanted to marry me—or anyone else, for that matter. But the poor girl was saddled with a heavily ambitious mother, and I felt deeply sorry for anyone who had to live with Ethel Bliss. Unfortunately, Ethel took it into her head to imagine that I would be the perfect husband for her daughter. And, although Fiona and I could have sorted everything out quite simply between ourselves...we hadn’t counted on Ms Alexandra Pemberton jabbing her long nose into our business.’
‘I didn’t realise...I didn’t know—’
‘But Ms Pemberton—a rich, spoilt young journalist—was solely intent on her story,’ Leo continued, ignoring her interjection. ‘Why should she care if her driving urge to gather material for her article could only further Ethel Bliss’s ambitions? In fact, by the time Ms Pemberton had made a thorough nuisance of herself, the proposed marriage was fast becoming a fait accompli.’
‘Oh, Leo...I’m so very sorry,’ Alex moaned.
‘So, it’s fortunate,’ he continued grimly, ‘that as it turns out Ms Pemberton did do poor Fiona a good turn, after all. You remember the vet, I mentioned earlier...?’ He turned around to gaze sardonically at Alex.
‘Well, it seems that he had been harbouring a deep but silent passion for Fiona. After reading your article last Saturday, the veterinary surgeon lost his rag, rushed over to see Fiona, declared his undying love—and gained her father, George Bliss’s approval—before carting the girl off on his fiery steed! Well...’ Leo added with a caustic grin, ‘to be truthful—he actually drove off his beloved Fiona in his trusty old Land Rover!’
‘And...and is Fiona really happy?’
‘Ecstatically so, I believe. After all, she has found a man who loves her and, just as important, someone who’s prepared to stand up to her mother. George Bliss is all for the romance if it means his daughter’s happiness, so—always provided that he can keep his wife under some sort of control—there’s no reason why the two people shouldn’t live happily ever after.’
‘I’m so pleased to hear it,’ Alex murmured, hesitating for a moment before adding, ‘I...well, about us...you were quite right. I’m so sorry that I proved to be so incredibly foolish, so lacking in trust...’
‘Please! Spare me the fulsome apologies,’ Leo ground out, turning around and walking back into the middle of the room. ‘It’s taken some time, but I’ve finally learned my lesson. I won’t ever make the mistake of trying to see you again, Alex. Do us both a favour, hmm? Just make sure you stay well out of my life in future.’
‘Leo...! Please don’t go. You know...you know that I love you, with all my heart...’
He walked over to the door. ‘Forget it!’ he retorted as he opened the door, allowing strains of music to float into the room.
‘Believe me...I’m gone. I’m history!’
CHAPTER NINE
SUNK in gloom, Alex leaned forward across her desk, resting her weary head in her hands, and wishing that like
Rip van Winkle she could go to sleep for well over a hundred years. There seemed no other way in which she’d be able to escape what was bound to be a monumental, cataclysmic row with Mike Tanner. It was only because he was out at a meeting, and hadn’t yet had an opportunity to look at the photographs of last night’s ball, that she still had a job and a desk, in the Chronicle’s newsroom.
‘Maybe he won’t go bananas,’ her friend, Tessa, the assistant fashion editor, said, trying to cheer up the heavily depressed girl.
‘Oh, yes, he will,’ Alex moaned. And Tessa, after a quick glance at the photographs concerned, agreed that the other girl’s prospects didn’t look too good.
‘Still, never mind. Maybe they’ll inspire Mike to start a “Page Three Girl” feature,’ Tessa said, referring to the idea used by other tabloid newspapers to increase sales by always featuring, on the third page of the paper, different pictures of virtually naked young girls.
However, if Tessa had hoped to relieve the other girl’s gloom with this mild joke, she certainly didn’t succeed.
‘Oh, don’t!’ Alex groaned, before rushing off to the ladies’ room and being violently ill. A few moments later, sitting in front of the mirror with her nervous stomach churning like a concrete mixer on fast forward, Alex knew that she had to face up to the hard facts of life. Not only were her days on the Chronicle likely to be severely curtailed, but she wouldn’t be at all surprised if Mike told her not to bother to come in tomorrow.
‘It’s all Leo’s fault,’ she muttered grimly, trying to whip up her anger against the man who, from when she was sixteen, seemed to have cast a blight over her life. But her heart wasn’t in it. With those terrible, final words, ‘I’m gone. I’m history’, she’d known, from the hard note of finality in his voice, that their love affair was well and truly over. And that, through her own folly and stupidity, she’d now lost the man whom she loved with every fibre of her being.
To have him walk out on her, leaving her weeping figure alone in the anteroom, would have been bad enough. But it had been his sudden decision to add a sort of postscript marking the end of their love affair which had finally demonstrated the scornful, contemptuous light in which he now viewed her.
As he’d opened the door to leave they’d both heard the strains of a fast jive instrumental number, which was currently ‘top of the pops’, the music and its dance steps having taken the country by storm.
‘Ah...I think I’m going to claim one last dance with you, Alex,’ he murmured, striding back to grab hold of her hand, and then retracing his steps with her protesting, tearful figure being towed along in his wake.
‘Please...I don’t want to...leave me alone!’ she cried. But all to no avail.
‘Come on, Alex! We mustn’t disappoint your public,’ he drawled in an ominous, sardonic voice, a malevolent expression on his handsome face as he paused in his determined progression towards the dance floor to tap Sid on the shoulder.
‘I think there’s time for just a few more pictures,’ he told the photographer.
‘Well...I dunno...’
‘Just do as you’re told!’ Leo snapped angrily, before hauling her still protesting figure onto the dance floor.
‘All right, guv. Anything you say,’ Sid muttered, quickly deciding not to argue with a man who had such a nasty glint in his eye, and who also dwarfed the photographer by a good six inches.
‘If this is your idea of a joke, I don’t get it,’ Alex cried, desperately trying to struggle away from Leo’s firm grip.
‘Oh, you will, my darling. Believe me—you will!’
And, alas, she had.
The new dance had seemed to consist of being clasped firmly to the partner’s chest, before being whirled away to the length of his arm and, just as rapidly, being twirled back again. Unfortunately, on the third ‘twirl’, Alex and her dress had parted company, with the red crimson satin gown continuing to go one way...while she’d gone quite another! And the resulting photographs were now lying on Mike Tanner’s desk.
Shocked and stunned, she’d hardly known what had been happening to her as Leo had crushed her now topless figure to his hard chest. After claiming her lips in one last, burning kiss, he’d whipped a tablecloth from a nearby table. Amidst the noise and clatter of broken glass and cutlery—not to mention the screams of anger and outrage from the people sitting there—he’d thrown the large white cloth over her bare breasts, before abruptly turning on his heel and stalking off the floor.
If it hadn’t been for Sophie, Alex was quite convinced that she would have expired there and then from utter mortification. However, her friend had immediately rushed to her rescue, murmuring comforting words as she’d led the sobbing girl from the room.
It was Sophie who’d quickly organised a taxi, putting a warm arm around the still tearful girl as they’d arrived back home, and had also helped to put Alex to bed.
Quite how she’d managed to force herself into work this morning, Alex didn’t know. The only faint spark of pleasure so far had been the bubbling happiness and joy of Susan’s voice on the telephone. Was it due to the fact that, possibly for the first time in her life, Susan had defied her mother? Or that the older woman now realised that in her future son-in-law she had a man who was prepared to put his foot down? Whatever the reason, Susan’s mother had welcomed her back from the dance with open arms, apologising for having upset Nigel, and promising to be less heavyhanded about their wedding arrangements in future.
Well, at least one couple was happy, she thought, looking glumly at herself in the mirror, and almost shuddering at the sight of her pale face and the deep shadows beneath her tired, dull blue eyes. She already knew that trying to forget her brief love affair with Leo was going to be a total waste of time. Because, although what had happened last night had without doubt been the most humiliating moment of her life, it still didn’t seem to make an ounce of difference to how she felt about him. And, if she now found herself deserted, it was entirely her own fault.
After all, she had written that article which he, in his own way, had obviously found just as degrading and embarrassing as the way he’d finally treated her. In fact, Alex could find no excuse for her own behaviour. Right from the moment she’d placed her finger on his picture in the newspaper, and told a barefaced lie about being able to easily gain his cooperation, she’d obviously got everything she deserved. As you sow, so shall you reap, she told herself sorrowfully, before bracing herself to go back to the newsroom and the expected summons from Mike Tanner.
It wasn’t long in coming.
‘Alex...!’ Mike’s voice rang like a Tannoy around the newsroom. ‘Get yourself in here-immediately!’
Feeling as though she was taking the walk to the scaffold, Alex took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other as she made her way towards Mike’s office.
As if to rub even more salt in her wounds, she discovered on entering the room that Imogen Hall-Knightly was also present, a happy grin etched on her thin features, and clearly looking forward to the pleasure of hearing and seeing Alex’s dismissal from the Chronicle.
‘I want to know what the hell has been going on,’ Mike growled, flicking a hand towards the photographs spread on his desk. ‘You told me everything was set up for the grand finale of our feature, with all the couples at this St Valentine’s Day Ball. And what do I find? Not only has one bloke lost his girlfriend somewhere along the line, but that you, Alex, have clearly decided to take her place!’
‘It’s just the sort of thing that stupid girl would do,’ Imogen commented sourly.
‘Do you think our readers are blind?’ Mike continued, ignoring the other woman’s interjection. ‘Even they won’t be able to help noticing that this guy, Leo Hamilton, seemed to have a dark girlfriend in last week’s issue and has a new blonde one in tomorrow’s supplement. And it’s not just a girlfriend at the dance, is it? It’s his damned stepsister—who also happens to be one of our reporters!’
‘
I can explain, Mike...’
‘I should jolly well hope you can!’ he ground out angrily.
‘Well, the thing is, you see...’ Alex muttered, before taking a deep breath. Staring fixedly at the wall above his head and ignoring Imogen Hall-Knightly, she made a full and frank disclosure of everything that had happened since the editorial meeting just under two weeks ago, haltingly at first, and then gathering pace.
‘I’ve got no excuse to offer, Mike,’ she said at last with a heavy sigh. ‘I was just so blinkered, so determined to get a story...’
‘I don’t have a problem with that attitude.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s the one important quality which journalists must have, if they’re to succeed in this profession.’
‘Yes, but not at the expense of other people’s feelings. And I should have been honest with you. I should not have promised something that I couldn’t deliver.’
Imogen Hall-Knightly gave a shrill laugh. ‘I couldn’t have put it better myself. It’s obvious that you were simply never up to the job,’ she added with a satisfied smirk. ‘You’ll never get a job in Fleet Street after this.’
‘Excuse me, Miz All-Nightly, but I don’t think we are discussing the whole of Fleet Street,’ Mike interjected quickly. ‘My only interest is in this newspaper. And the point at issue is what we’re going to be putting in tomorrow’s supplement, right?’ he added crushingly.
Imogen, who wasn’t a total fool, quickly nodded her agreement and lapsed back into silence.
‘Any ideas, Alex?’ Mike turned to face the pale girl standing in front of his desk.
She shook her head. ‘No, not really. Sid took pictures of the two other couples, of course, and they’re both still happy together, thank God.’
