Intimate Strangers

by Susan Lewis

  Steeling herself, she picked up the remote, closed her eyes and prayed silently to anyone or anything that was listening to give her the strength to get through this. It was madness, self-torment taken to its extremes, but if going right to the heart of her pain was the way to get her out of it, she would find the courage to do it.

  She took a breath, put her finger on the Play button, and was about to press down when someone knocked on the front door.

  It made her jump, even confused her at first, as she turned to look at it. Then with a wild leap of her heart she realized it must be him. He’d put his car in its usual space and had taken the lift up. Yes, it had to be him. No-one else could get in.

  The deflation of her hope was as quick as the rise. It couldn’t be him, he’d never have got here so fast. It must be a neighbour. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, or not someone she barely knew. Whoever it was knocked again. She looked down at the remote in her hand, and abruptly threw it on to a chair. She didn’t care if it made her a coward, she couldn’t do it. She needed to know who was there, just in case it was him.

  At the door she stood on tiptoe to peer out through the security glass. Whoever it was had their back to her. Then he turned round and she blinked in astonishment. Nick? What was he doing here?

  Feeling only relief that she didn’t have to be alone now, she pulled open the door.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, brandishing a bottle of wine. ‘Sorry I’m late. I came in behind someone down …’ He stopped suddenly as he registered the signs of distress. ‘Are you OK?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, uh, I’m fine. Sorry. Didn’t you get the message?’

  ‘Message? Oh God,’ he groaned. ‘My cell-phone’s on the blink. Don’t tell me, the party’s not on, and obviously this isn’t a good time. I’ll just go. Sorry. Pretend I was never here.’

  ‘No! No. It’s OK,’ she said, almost grabbing him. ‘Please, come in,’ and she stood aside for him to pass. ‘Elliot was supposed to be coming,’ she explained. ‘That’s why I cancelled the dinner.’

  He turned around.

  ‘He stood me up,’ she said, with an attempt at a laugh. ‘Well, not stood me up, exactly. He had a more pressing engagement.’

  Sighing and shaking his head, he reached for her hand. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘This is a terrible time for you. Are you sure you don’t want me to go?’

  ‘I’m sure. As long as you don’t mind putting up with me again.’

  He smiled. ‘Come on, let’s crack open this wine,’ he responded.

  In spite of knowing how Sherry would disapprove, of the wine and him being here, she led him through to the sitting room. A few minutes later they were sitting cross-legged on the cushions around the coffee table, carrying on with the bottle she’d already opened, with his in reserve.

  ‘I feel such an idiot now,’ she confessed. ‘I got all dressed up … Look at me. I thought …’ She swallowed and shook her head. ‘I don’t know what I thought. Well I do, I just don’t want to admit it.’

  ‘You look lovely,’ he told her.

  She smiled in disbelief. ‘With mascara all over my face and my eyes all puffed up like doughnuts? I don’t think so.’

  ‘Well, OK, I guess you wouldn’t want to use this particular look to run for Miss Universe,’ he conceded, ‘but I’m not one of the judges, so don’t mind me.’

  She gazed down at her drink, feeling grateful to him for being here, but not quite able to respond to his humour. She drank some more wine in the hope it might buck her up, but it didn’t. The weight of Elliot’s call, of where he was now, and the fear that he really might never come back, was still pulling her down and down. ‘Is it possible for him just to feel nothing now?’ she said, looking up at Nick. ‘After everything we meant to each other … Can he have changed that much in so short a time?’

  He shook his head. ‘I doubt it. It’s just a defence mechanism we men have, block it out and pretend it’s not happening. It comes in particularly handy when guilt’s involved – and I’m pretty sure there’s a lot going on here.’

  Her eyes went down again. She didn’t want Elliot to feel guilty, she just wanted him to feel the way he used to. ‘It sounds as though he really loves her,’ she said bleakly, and put her hands over her face, unable to stand the truth of her own words. ‘I’m sorry,’ she gasped. ‘This must be very embarrassing for you …’

  ‘Don’t worry about me, I’ve seen tears before,’ he assured her. ‘I’ve even shed a few.’

  She sighed and shook her head. ‘The world is full of tragedies and every one of them is worse than mine,’ she said. ‘So I should stop feeling sorry for myself and get over it.’

  He smiled. ‘You wouldn’t be human if you could do it just like that,’ he responded. ‘What you’re going through now hurts, a lot.’

  She looked at him, registering his dark, sensitive eyes and gentle mouth. She was glad he was here, and wouldn’t think now about how she was going to explain it to Sherry. Instead she raised her glass to his. ‘I think we should drink a toast to everyone in the world who’s hurting,’ she said.

  ‘To every last one of them,’ he agreed.

  They drank, and she watched quietly as he topped up their glasses. ‘Sherry says I shouldn’t resist the hurt,’ she told him. ‘She thinks I should accept what’s happening instead of trying to fight it.’

  ‘I’d say Sherry’s a very good person to listen to when it comes to matters of the heart,’ he replied. ‘She had a lot of practice with her mother, too much, in fact – it meant she saw first-hand what worked and what didn’t. Then, after coming through what she came through, on a personal front … Well, let’s just say you can be sure she’ll do everything she can to stop it being as bad for you.’

  Feeling almost sobered by such nobleness Laurie picked up her glass and drank. ‘How did you two meet, exactly?’ she asked.

  He seemed surprised. ‘Sherry’s never told you that?’

  She shook her head. ‘I just know it was around the time her parents died. Did you know them?’

  ‘Uh –’ His eyes dropped to his glass. ‘Not exactly,’ he answered.

  She frowned. ‘What does that mean?’ she prompted.

  ‘It means her father was already dead when we met,’ he said, ‘and her mother …’

  ‘I thought they died in a plane crash,’ she interrupted. ‘That’s what Sherry said, that they were killed in her father’s plane.’

  He inhaled deeply.

  ‘That’s not it?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, but I think I know where that came from. A couple of months before it all happened, John, her father, lent his plane to a friend to fly up to San Francisco. It crashed on the way back, killing the friend and his wife.’

  Starting to feel more than a little light-headed, Laurie said, ‘So what happened to her parents?’

  His eyes returned to hers. ‘Sherry’s mother isn’t dead,’ he told her. ‘In fact, she’s very much alive.’

  Laurie blinked. ‘I don’t understand. Why does Sherry say she’s dead, if she’s not?’

  ‘I guess it must be her way of coping,’ he answered. Then, after a pause, ‘Her mother’s in prison.’

  Laurie’s eyes dilated. ‘In prison?’ she echoed. ‘What for?’

  ‘For murdering Sherry’s father. Sherry and I met when I went to LA to cover the trial.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ Laurie murmured, pushing a hand through her hair. ‘I had no idea. This is terrible. Poor Sherry. I hardly know what to say. Does she ever see her mother?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. It’s one of the real tragedies of what happened, because they were very close. Bluebell. That’s what they used to call her mother.’

  ‘But why won’t she see her?’

  ‘She won’t discuss it. Not even with me. But it can’t have been easy seeing your own mother shoot dead the father you adored.’

  ‘It’s unthinkable,’ Laurie muttered. She turned to look at him, still lost for words.

 
‘I don’t think you should mention anything to Sherry,’ he cautioned. ‘She obviously doesn’t want people to know, or she’d have told you herself.’

  ‘No, of course not,’ Laurie responded.

  They sat quietly for a while, absorbed in their own thoughts, until noticing their glasses were empty, he said, ‘I think we need the other bottle now, don’t you?’

  She nodded, distractedly. ‘So you got her through the trial?’ she said, when he came back.

  ‘Actually, our month together was immediately after the trial,’ he replied, pulling the cork. ‘We didn’t really meet during it.’

  As he sat down and refilled their glasses her eyes followed his movements. He was such a nice man, she was thinking, so easy to talk to and be with.

  ‘Now tell me about you,’ he said, clearly wanting to change the subject. ‘How did you get into this business?’

  Reluctantly she tore her mind away from Sherry, only to find her spirits sinking again as she considered his question. ‘It’s too tied up with Elliot,’ she answered, having difficulty focusing her eyes on her glass.

  ‘Then tell me about him.’

  She looked at him in surprise.

  ‘You never know, it might help,’ he said, not sounding particularly convinced by it himself.

  With a laugh she said, ‘If you knew what you were asking … I swear, I’d be a blubbering wreck by the end of it. Or worse, you’d probably be dragging me out of the gas oven.’

  ‘Ah, but I’m not just a good listener, I’m also good at rescuing women from gas ovens,’ he declared.

  She tried a smile but it didn’t quite happen. ‘No,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I can’t do it. I can’t talk about him. I can’t even think about him, except I never think about anything else. To tell you the truth, I’m probably losing my grip. I’m all right now, talking to you, but really I’m a mess. I’m no use at the office, I can’t do anything here, I’m avoiding my parents, putting upon my friends … I live in total terror of him never coming back … I can’t face the fact that I’ve still got that day to get through at the end of next week. I’m so delusional, so in denial that I keep allowing myself to believe it’ll actually happen, and we will get married. If only I could take something, then wake up and it would all be over.’

  She drained her glass and held it out for more. ‘We can’t go on like this,’ she said, ‘avoiding each other … I’d go round there, but I don’t want to bump into her. There are things to sort out, such as what we’re going to do with this flat. I can’t afford it on my own, and I’d rather set fire to it than let him bring her here.’

  She drank again, and swallowed down hard in the hope it might keep her tears back. ‘I told him tonight to take her to Bali,’ she said, her voice starting to falter. ‘You know, I think he actually considered it. It’s where we were going on honeymoon. Can you believe he’d even think about taking her there? All the time I’m imagining them together. I can even tell you what they talk about, how they both look in the nude, the erotic picture they make, their bodies so perfectly in tune …’

  ‘Hey, hey,’ he said, coming to sit next to her and drawing her into his arms. ‘You don’t have to do this.’

  ‘I don’t know how to stop,’ she wept, resting her head on his shoulder. ‘It haunts me, day and night. They’re there when I get up and they’re still there when I go to bed. I’m obsessed by them. They’re going to New York next week – that’s where he’ll be when we should have been getting married. Oh God, Nick,’ she gasped, ‘it’s all gone so terribly wrong and I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Ssh,’ he soothed, whispering into her hair. ‘It’ll be all right. I promise. You’ll get through this. Meanwhile, don’t be too hard on yourself. Lean on your friends, pour it all out, let them be there for you, the way you’d be there for them.’

  Her eyes were closed, her cheek was pressed against him. It was so comforting being held like this, and the sound of his voice, vibrating softly in his chest, made her feel safe. With all her heart she wished he was Elliot. If he were, oh God, if only he were …

  ‘I think I’m drunk,’ she confessed in a whisper.

  ‘It could have something to do with the wine,’ he responded.

  She smiled blearily and lifted her head.

  He looked down into her eyes, and brushed the hair from her face. ‘Still not quite going to make it as Miss Universe,’ he told her softly.

  ‘That bad?’

  He nodded. ‘But beautiful too.’

  Her eyes rested on his mouth, then moved away as the desire to kiss him stole up on her. It was only the closeness she wanted, and she couldn’t use him like that, or do it to Sherry. She cleared her throat. ‘Would you like some coffee?’ she offered, staggering slightly as she tried to get up. ‘Or something to eat? Oh my God, you came for dinner. You must be starving.’

  ‘An understatement,’ he assured her. ‘What do you have? I’ll make it, while you go and freshen up.’

  Liking his bluntness she took his hand and led him out to the kitchen. After showing him where everything was, she made her way upstairs to wash her face and straighten her clothes. When she got to the bedroom and remembered what she’d hoped for tonight, she almost sank to her knees and howled. Instead she turned abruptly away, toppled into the bathroom and turned on the light.

  The mirror pulled no punches. She looked dreadful, and not even a quick clean-up of the mascara and brush of the hair could hide the redness of her eyes, or the blotches on her cheeks and neck. Her ribs ached from so much sobbing, and her heart felt like a hot burning stone, but at least on the surface she was slightly more presentable by the time she’d finished. Though it crossed her mind to change into something marginally less revealing, it seemed a rather redundant concern when she’d been sitting there pressed against him just now, her skirt riding high on her thighs and her breasts almost visible through the double layers of transparency.

  Checking her reflection again to see just how transparent, she decided that the very faint hint of dark nipple was OK, because he probably wouldn’t notice anyway, and if he did, he’d be too polite to mention it, or even to look for very long. Actually, it was quite exciting her to think of teasing him like this, it made her feel powerful and attractive, like a woman who could win a man over instead of one who had just been left to feel worthless and unloved.

  As she walked back down the stairs she saw him in the kitchen and felt a surge of resentment towards him for being in Elliot’s place. But it wasn’t his fault he wasn’t Elliot, or that Elliot had chosen to leave her for someone else. It had nothing to do with him, and at least, unlike Elliot, he was here, caring about her and how she felt, doing everything he could to help her deal with the wrenching awfulness of rejection – not out there somewhere running round at the beck and call of someone whose ass was bigger than Sugar Loaf mountain.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, as she joined him. ‘Omelette OK? Smoked salmon, chives and a green salad on the side.’

  ‘Sounds delicious,’ she responded, wondering if she’d be able to eat.

  Without thinking she picked up the nearest wine glass and drank some more. ‘I’ll get the cutlery,’ she said.

  They carried the food back to the coffee table, returning to the cushions they’d been on when he’d moved round to sit next to her. This time, as they talked, mostly about him now, she was more aware of her skirt riding up, exposing her thighs, and maybe even offering a glimpse of her panties. She didn’t attempt to pull it down, even wriggled slightly to make it go higher. She became fascinated by his hands and imagined them on her legs, smoothing their way up under her hem, circling her waist … Picking up her glass she drank again. Her head was swimming with fantasies and wine. She felt unable to speak without slurring her words, and anyway she was afraid of what she might say.

  She tried to eat, but the fork felt too heavy to lift. The sound of his voice seemed oddly distant, not connected at all to what was going on. She drank more, then hung her he
ad.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he said gently.

  ‘Yes, yes, I’m fine,’ she assured him, looking up. ‘I just …’ Her eyes went to his.

  He smiled and returned her gaze.

  She looked at his mouth again and was about to turn away when he caught her gently by the chin. ‘No more wine,’ he said softly.

  She shook her head. Then almost before she knew it she was pressing her mouth against his.

  He kissed her back, tenderly, sliding a hand into her hair, down over her neck and up again. She put her arms around him, willing him to touch her anywhere, all over, under her clothes, everywhere, but he just went on kissing her, until finally he gently eased her away.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, dropping her eyes, ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’

  Using his fingers to tilt her face up, he smiled down at her. ‘I did it too,’ he reminded her.

  As she looked at him she could feel her desire turning into a pressing need. ‘Please don’t tell Sherry,’ she whispered, though whether she meant about the kiss, or what she hoped was going to happen next, she didn’t know.

  ‘Is that why you stopped?’ he asked.

  She nodded, then shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Isn’t it why you stopped?’

  He inhaled deeply and reached for her hand. ‘I don’t want to take advantage of you while you’re in such a vulnerable state,’ he told her.

  She looked at their hands. ‘What about Sherry?’ she prompted. ‘Surely it’s because of her too.’

  ‘Sherry and I,’ he began, and glanced away. ‘Well, I’m very fond of her … In many ways she’s a wonderful person …’ He stopped and looked back at her.