Going Too Far

by Catherine Alliott

  ‘What d’you mean?’ he said quickly.

  ‘Oh come on, d’you really think she’s in love with you? She’s an opportunist – you must know that by now; she’s out for what she can get. True love doesn’t come into it.’

  He stared at me for a second, then looked away.

  ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he muttered.

  I was startled. Had I hit a nerve? Had things started to go wrong between the little love birds already? I pounced.

  ‘Oh, don’t I? I know her extremely well actually, in fact I could write a book about her nasty, conniving, calculating little ways. She’s totally manipulative, Sam. She uses people – men especially – and when she’s finished with them she just flushes them straight down the loo without a second thought. I bet she’s done that to you, hasn’t she? I bet you’re somewhere in the S-bend even now and you haven’t the faintest idea how you got there, am I right?’

  I cocked my head sideways to see his face. It crumpled briefly, then he resumed his grim contemplation of the carpet. I straightened up.

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t be too hard on yourself if I were you,’ I said softly. ‘That’s always the way it is with Serena. Most people don’t find out they’ve been shafted until it’s too late. Bad luck, Sam.’

  Call me foolhardy but suddenly he didn’t frighten me any more. I saw him for what he really was. A coward. A weak, pathetic man who didn’t have the guts to say no, who let the tide wash him this way and that as he floated aimlessly through life. Only this time the tide hadn’t just washed him round the corner to Rosy, or through the next office to Samantha in accounts, it had taken him to Serena. Serena, the wrecker, who with her lantern of bright blonde hair had beckoned him on, luring him towards her, tempting him with her beauty and her fame, but who was ultimately poised to dash him on the rocks and smash him to smithereens when she’d finished with him. I looked at him now, savagely massaging his brow, sweat gushing from every pore. God, he was a wreck already.

  Had he really meant to lose Sally, I wondered, or had he just let his affair with Serena get out of hand? Had he really meant to jettison his film career and become a petty thief, or had he just been too weak and too greedy to say no when Serena had shown him a way to pay off his crippling debts at the same time as relieving the only man who’d ever dumped her of his family heirlooms? Oh yes, I detected Serena’s hand at the back of all this, no doubt about it. And for how long would she be sticking around with the failed film director? Just long enough for him to serve his purpose and leak the porcelain on to the market, I suspected. And, looking at him now, I knew he suspected it too.

  ‘You’re talking crap, Polly,’ he muttered eventually.

  ‘Am I?’ I folded my arms. ‘Oh, well in that case I hope you’ll be very happy together. You and Miss Montgomery.’

  He didn’t answer me.

  ‘I suppose you’ll get married then, will you? I mean as soon as Sally gives you a divorce?’ He didn’t look up, but the circles he was rubbing on his forehead were becoming frenetic. ‘I don’t suppose Sally will want to hang around, will she?’ I went on. ‘I dare say she’ll want to get everything sorted out as quickly as possible, get her life back together again, sell the house perhaps, make a new start, that kind of –’

  ‘Shut up!’ he hissed suddenly, shooting me a glare. ‘Just shut up, will you!’ He looked down again but not before I’d seen the despair in his eyes. He shook his head.

  ‘Such a mess …’ he whispered, ‘such a godawful … terrible … mess … got to think …’

  I sat quietly and let him think, let him stew in his rancid juices. After a while he muttered something inaudible. I leaned forward.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said I need a cigarette.’

  ‘Actually I don’t smoke any more,’ I said nonchalantly, crossing my legs and rearranging my skirt. Gosh, I felt almost in control here. Soon it would be time to ask him to leave.

  ‘GET ME A FUCKING CIGARETTE!’ he bellowed.

  Did I mention control? I leaped up like a cat who’s been sat on and scampered out to the hall. I looked around wildly. Pippa’s briefcase was still sitting on the chair where she’d left it. I ran to it, snapped it open, rummaged around furiously and found a half-empty packet of Silk Cut at the bottom. As I took them out, I noticed her Dictaphone. I stared at it for a moment. Suddenly the house seemed awfully quiet and still, just the hall clock ticking away behind me. I felt ridiculously brave. I took the Dictaphone out and with a trembling hand pressed the record button, then I carefully lodged it behind the case, out of sight.

  I went back into the sitting room, handed Sam the cigarettes and a lighter and walked, rather shakily, back to the far end of the room, where I perched on the arm of the sofa again. Sam lit a cigarette and pocketed the rest. I cleared my throat.

  ‘So you didn’t sleep with me after all that night at the hotel?’ I said clearly.

  ‘No I bloody –’ Suddenly he halted. He narrowed his eyes and blew the smoke out thoughtfully in a thin stream. The full implications of admitting to how revolting he found me gathered in his eyes.

  ‘No I didn’t,’ he said shortly. ‘You were far too drunk. I put you to bed and, er, tried to sort of get you interested, but you were totally out of it. I just went to sleep next to you in the end.’ He took another deep drag on his cigarette and exhaled through his nostrils, watching me carefully.

  ‘Not what you said in the restaurant the other day.’

  ‘No.’ He licked his lips. ‘No, I – well, I suppose I wanted to shake you up a bit, give you something to think about.’

  ‘And you stayed with me all night? Left early the next morning?’

  ‘That’s right,’ he said slowly, ‘at about seven. You got the note, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I got the note.’

  There was a tense silence. The room felt oddly still. He watched me warily, the veins throbbing away in his wet forehead. I summoned up what little courage I possessed.

  ‘You were seen, Sam,’ I said hoarsely.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You were seen leaving the hotel at about twelve thirty that night. You ran down the back stairs and went out of the fire exit at the back. Maria, one of the maids at the hotel, saw you go.’

  The few remaining traces of colour in his face drained clear away. He stared at me. I’d got him. The satisfaction was immense but short-lived, like me probably. What did I have, a death wish or something?

  He got unsteadily to his feet and advanced towards me. I quickly got up and backed away towards the french windows.

  ‘Her word against mine,’ he breathed, advancing slowly. ‘Who d’you think cuts the most ice, a maid who can hardly speak the lingo, or an eminent film director, who, it transpires, was simply nipping into the garden for a quick cigarette before going back to his room five minutes later? The mere fact that she didn’t see me return is neither here nor there, is it?’

  ‘No, no, you’re right,’ I said quickly, slipping round the side of the sofa, ‘neither here nor there. Absolutely right, couldn’t agree with you more.’

  The fact that she saw him get into a car and drive off at top speed with Serena was not to be mentioned under any circumstances, not unless I wanted to be bludgeoned to death on the carpet with one of Pippa’s Conran candlesticks.

  I crept round the sofa as he stalked me, our eyes locked in combat. I felt my way around with my hands, not daring to lose his gaze for an instant.

  ‘Y-you know you’re absolutely right, Sam,’ I whispered. ‘The maid was probably very tired and she obviously got it all wrong. After all, it was very late; she was probably daydreaming or – or hallucinating or something. I’m sure there’s a perfectly rational explanation, nothing to worry about at all. I mean, as you say, she’s just a maid who can’t even speak English, there’s no way they’re going to get you just on her say-so, is there?’

  He stopped and stared at me from the other end of the sofa, his yellow eyes burnin
g into mine.

  ‘Get me for what?’

  I swallowed hard. Christ! Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut?

  ‘Get me for what?’ he repeated evenly.

  ‘F-for … for nothing really, Sam, nothing. I meant, um, for not paying your bill, perhaps, or – or –’

  ‘I paid my bill,’ he hissed, circling the sofa. ‘What are you blabbing about, Polly, what do you know?’ He was gaining on me now. ‘You interfering little cow, what the hell d’you think you’re –’

  Suddenly the doorbell rang, interrupting his stream of abuse. We both froze in mid-creep and stared at one another. Sam looked alarmed.

  ‘I – I must get that,’ I whispered, taking one very brave but futile step towards the door.

  ‘Don’t even think about it,’ he breathed, instantly welding me to the spot.

  ‘B-but I must, it might be Pippa, she might have forgotten her key or something, or it might be –’

  It rang again, long, loud and shrill, cutting short my nervous babble. We gazed at one another, transfixed, like a couple of statues. Then there was silence. Oh God, please don’t go away, I thought desperately, digging my nails into the palm of my clammy hand. Whoever you are, please don’t go away!

  We listened. The silence continued. Sam’s mouth began to twitch triumphantly. He took a step towards me, when abruptly – the bell rang again. This time a series of short, sharp, urgent blasts.

  We both stared at the door. The whole house seemed to reverberate to the shrill, persistent summons. Then silence again. I bit my lip. Please don’t go, please don’t go. There was a rustle, then – footsteps. Retreating footsteps, going back up the garden path. I felt my heart sink through the floor. Sam’s face lifted with relief.

  ‘Oh what a shame,’ he said, smiling nastily. ‘They’ve gone. Bad luck, Polly, looks like you’re on your own.’

  He swayed slightly and grabbed the back of the sofa to steady himself. ‘Now,’ he said quietly, ‘you were saying?’

  ‘W-was I?’

  ‘Yes.’ He moved towards me. ‘Oh yes, you were, about how “they” were going to get me, remember? Get me for what?’

  He was close now and I could see hundreds of tiny beads of sweat glistening on his forehead and upper lip. His tawny hair was streaked with dark and stuck to his temples.

  ‘Oh, er, nothing,’ I gasped. ‘Nothing at all, it was just a – a figure of speech, really, an expression, can’t think what I meant at all!’

  He gazed at me intently. ‘You know something, don’t you?’

  He was almost upon me now. I kept going back, but ultimately I was going to hit the wall. Like now. I flattened my hands against it and slid sideways towards the front door.

  ‘What the hell do you know?’ he breathed into my face.

  ‘Nothing!’ I yelped. ‘Don’t know anything!’

  ‘You think I stole your precious porcelain, don’t you?’ he hissed.

  ‘No, no, of course not,’ I whimpered.

  He stared at me for a moment, then his top lip curled.

  ‘Oh, what does it matter?’ he spat scornfully. ‘Say what you like, no one will ever believe you. We were too clever, and you were too stupid and drugged up to the eyeballs with the little beverage I slipped you to know what the hell was going on. Do your worst, Polly. It won’t get you anywhere – we outsmarted the lot of you.’

  I slid slowly along the wall towards the door again, feeling my way with my hands. He crept after me, shadowing me all the time, sneering contemptuously into my face.

  ‘You and your stupid, trusting husband who leaves his keys lying around where anyone can find them, the dopey police in that backward village of yours, Brucey the Botty with his convenient passion for porcelain and his big homosexual secret that he wanted kept from Mummy at all costs, making him ripe for a spot of blackmailing. Oh yes, it all dovetailed together very nicely indeed, thank you very much, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it now.’

  He rested his hands on the wall on either side of my head, stopping me in my slide towards the door and, ultimately, the free world. Then he brought his head down level with mine. Our noses were practically touching. His was wet with sweat and his eyes had a touch of madness in them. I felt sick with fear.

  ‘And don’t think it bothers me one iota if Serena sticks around or not,’ he hissed into my face. ‘Silly bitch – I’ve got no illusions about her, never have had. I used her as much as she used me. She got the Meissen out but at the end of the day I’ll be the one selling it on, and when I do, I’ll be the one holding the purse strings and she can come crawling to me for a change.’

  He thumped his chest for emphasis, swayed and gripped my shoulders to steady himself. I cringed at his touch and felt myself begin to shake under his hands. He tightened his grip and leaned forward. His yellow eyes were huge and staring, his teeth bared like a dog’s. I retched as a mixture of sweat and gin-soaked breath shot up my nose.

  ‘And don’t think anyone’s going to believe your little fairy story either, Polly,’ he breathed. ‘You squeak about being drugged and they’ll think you’re just an adulteress who’s trying to save her marriage. Too many people saw you with your undies hanging out that night, too many people saw you being carried upstairs, they all knew what a rollicking good time I was going to give you. You mention drugs and the police will smell a guilty conscience a mile off.’ He shook my shoulders. ‘But then you won’t be mentioning anything to the police, will you, Polly?’

  I stared at him, I couldn’t speak.

  ‘Will you?’ he repeated, shaking me a bit harder. ‘Come on, Polly, speak up. I can’t hear you.’ He inclined his ear to my lips.

  I shut my eyes and let out a strangled sob, but still I couldn’t utter. My voice seemed to be wedged in my throat somewhere, along with my heart. I was dumb with fear.

  ‘I said, will you, Polly?’ He shook me roughly this time, and my head bashed against the wall.

  I covered my face with my hands, whimpering. I was shaking violently now. He grabbed my hands and yanked them away from my face.

  ‘You won’t be mentioning anything, WILL YOU, POLLY!’ he bellowed into my face, shoving me backwards.

  I gasped with pain as my head struck the wall again. I stared up into his bulging yellow eyes, his gritted teeth and his white face, dripping with sweat. He was terrifying, but he was desperate too. Suddenly I knew I had one chance and one chance only. I dug deep for courage, opened my mouth and summoned up all the breath in my body.

  ‘H-E-E-L-P!’ I shrieked at the top of my voice.

  Sam stared at me in fury. He raised his hand, I ducked, and suddenly there was a resounding smash. A brick came hurtling through the front window, sending glass flying everywhere.

  ‘Christ Al–’ I ducked as pieces of glass sprayed around the room and the brick landed with a crash in the fireplace.

  ‘What the –’ Sam stepped back in alarm.

  I gazed in astonishment as the yellow chintz curtain at the front window was ripped roughly from its brass rail. There was a jagged hole where the glass had been smashed. Through the hole, from the dark night beyond, a hand appeared. A man’s hand. It swiftly unfastened the broken window and flung it open. Two hands then gripped the top of the frame, and a pair of very familiar blue-jeaned legs dropped deftly into the room, crunching glass underfoot. They were followed by an even more familiar torso and head. I gave a strangled sob, wrenched myself free from Sam’s grasp and flew across the room.

  ‘Nick!’ I shrieked, as I ran into his arms.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  I buried my face in his shoulder and sobbed into his jumper. He held me close for a moment then pulled away and lunged towards Sam, who was making a desperate dash for the door. He fell on his legs and rugby-tackled him to the ground. They wrestled for a moment, but it wasn’t much of a contest. Nick was stronger and fitter and Sam was too drunk to put up much of a fight. Before he knew what had hit him, Sam was flat on his face on the floor
, his nose pressed hard into the Axminster, his arms pinned behind him full-nelson style with Nick sitting firmly astride his back.

  ‘Get out of that, you bastard!’ gasped Nick, wrenching one of Sam’s arms a bit further towards his head.

  ‘Aarh! You’re breaking my arm!’ screeched Sam.

  ‘I’d like to break your bloody neck!’ Nick gave the arm another jerk. ‘You creep!’

  Just then a little blond head popped through the window. ‘Safe to come in yet?’ said a nervous voice.

  ‘Get in here, Bruce,’ yelled Nick. ‘You could give me a hand!’

  Bruce climbed tentatively through the broken window. ‘I’m not too sure I’d be much help, actually. I do hope you’ve got him firmly. I was never much of a one for wrestling.’

  ‘Just be ready to help if I shout, OK?’

  I, meanwhile, had rushed to the dresser and picked up a large Chinese vase which I held high, poised over Sam’s head.

  ‘Shall I? Shall I?’ I shrieked excitedly.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Polly,’ panted Nick, ‘we don’t want to kill him, just immobilize him. Go and phone the police, for God’s sake.’

  ‘Oh! Right.’ I put the vase down with a twinge of disappointment, but at the mention of the police Sam gave one last desperate heave. Nick struggled to keep him down.

  ‘Quick, sit on his legs, both of you!’ he ordered.

  Bruce and I scampered round and sat, with great pleasure, and as hard as we possibly could, on the backs of his shins. Sam struggled, but I for one was no lightweight. We’d got him.

  ‘You bastards!’ he screamed. ‘You’ve got nothing on me, you’ve no right to do this!’

  ‘Oh, haven’t we?’ I retorted. ‘He stole our porcelain, Nick, he just admitted the whole thing. He wasn’t with me at all on that Friday night; it was him and Serena – they did it together!’

  ‘I suspected as much,’ said Nick through gritted teeth. ‘The police in Helston were beginning to put two and two together, said it was just a matter of time before they had enough evidence to pull him in.’

  ‘You mean,’ spluttered Bruce incredulously, ‘he – he tried to frame me?’