by Susan Lewis
Colin looked at Bruce. ‘Do you know either of them?’ he asked.
Bruce shook his head. ‘I’ve heard of Russell, of course.’
‘I know the man,’ Colin said. ‘Not well. But he’s good. Damn good. He’ll get this without my help.’
Taking that as a refusal to see either, Parker’s eyes closed in frustration.
‘OK, let’s give this Laurie Forbes a chance,’ Colin suddenly said. ‘Russell’s too high profile.’ Then with a dry laugh: ‘It’ll be one way for this Laurie Forbes to make a name for himself, if he wants to.’
The door crashed open before Parker could correct him. ‘Lunch, Ashby!’ the guard snarled.
Bruce and Parker began packing up. Nothing interrupted prison routine, not even lawyers’ visits, and neither of them saw any reason to get into the gender confusion when it might endanger the yes.
As he reached the door Colin turned back to Bruce. ‘What news of Beth?’ he asked. ‘How is she?’
‘She’s going to Spain tomorrow to stay with her parents,’ Bruce answered. ‘She needs to get away.’
Colin looked so dejected that Bruce was tempted to tell him about Ava Montgomery and the book, in an effort to show she was surviving. But there wasn’t time, and it wouldn’t be true anyway, for the depth of Beth’s heartache was never going to be healed by a few smart dresses and a book deal, despite the brief respites they were managing to buy.
‘I’ve been worried about her,’ Colin said. ‘Has she done anything about a divorce?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘She should.’
‘Ashby!’ the guard growled.
Parker handed over Laurie Forbes’s address. ‘Send the visiting order today,’ he said. ‘And make it for the next visit.’
‘My mother and Heather already have it,’ Colin answered.
‘Then change it.’
Bruce held on to Colin’s shoulder as he shook his hand, glad that Beth had no way of knowing that Heather wasn’t only being allowed to visit, but that she was supposed to come with his mother. He didn’t mention it to Colin either, for he couldn’t find it in himself to make the man feel worse than he obviously already did. So all he said was, ‘You’re doing the right thing, talking to a reporter.’
‘I hope to God you’re right,’ Colin murmured. ‘I just hope to God you’re right.’
Chapter 12
LA RESIDENCIA D’EL Sol was about seventy kilometres from Málaga, and five from the nearest beach, in a beautiful sun-drenched valley of vibrant feathery palms, powdery sand and lush cool grass. The two-storey buildings, with their exquisite Moorish arches, red roofs and bougainvillaea-clad walls, were grouped around an Olympic-sized pool, with half a dozen tennis courts, a clubhouse providing all facilities including two gourmet restaurants, and an eighteen-hole golf course completing the sprawling acreage of the luxury complex.
Beth’s parents, Hal and Joyce Winters, had lived there for seven years. They spent their afternoons golfing, and evenings imbibing the local brew. Hangovers, and any shopping or chores that needed to be done, generally took up the mornings. They knew everyone in the complex, and might have been more enthusiastic about reintroducing their daughter to their friends, were she not embroiled in this embarrassing fiasco.
‘Of course, we’re always glad to see you,’ her mother said, her words slurring into each other because it was now early evening and she’d already consumed the best part of a bottle of plonk, ‘but we have busy lives and the world doesn’t just stop because you’ve decided to turn up. I hope you understand that. Are you going to have some?’
Her father was putting a tray on the mosaic-topped table with three tall glasses, a dish of succulent black olives and a large pitcher of his home-made speciality, sangria. ‘Of course she is,’ he answered. ‘She’ll need one after that long journey.’
‘So how is Colin?’ her mother demanded, her leathery face puckered with resentment. ‘What on earth did he think he was doing? He surely didn’t imagine he was going to get away with it? Well, of course he hasn’t, has he? And no more should he, but I don’t mind telling you it’s not been easy holding our heads up around here, us being related to him and all. Right to the top, Hal.’
‘Have you been to see him?’ her father asked, passing a brimming glass of sangria to his wife.
‘Only once,’ Beth answered, watching him fill a glass for her. ‘You heard about the other woman and the child, I suppose?’
‘Makes you wonder how much worse it’s going to get,’ Joyce snorted. ‘Here, cheers,’ and she clanged her glass against Beth’s. ‘Anyway, enough about him. We’ve got some friends coming over at eight, so why don’t you go and freshen up? You might want to go into the local town for a look round. Or you can stay here with us. Up to you, but I don’t want to spend the evening talking about him.’
‘I’ll just get an early night,’ Beth responded, wondering why on earth she’d come when she’d known full well it would be like this. It had never been any different where her mother was concerned – she was an irritant, a liability, a pathetic streak of nothing that had never got any further than being a kindergarten teacher, though, by some miracle, had managed to land herself the dashingly handsome and successful Colin Ashby, a man of impeccable character and social standing who’d presumably suffered some kind of aberration the day he met her. Of course, Joyce’s high opinion of Colin had dramatically nose-dived now, though it would only be a matter of time before she got round to making Beth fully responsible for his disgrace.
She spent the first two days by the pool, carrying her book and towel as far from her parents’ apartment as she could get, and setting herself up under a blue-and-white-striped parasol to read and sleep the time away. No one had mentioned Colin again, and though she wasn’t surprised that her mother hadn’t bothered to ask how she was coping, or what she might be planning to do now, she couldn’t help feeling resentful of the neglect. But she kept it to herself. It never paid to get into a row with Joyce, and being in such a vulnerable state anyway she knew how unlikely it was that she’d be able to handle too many of Joyce’s hurtful remarks. She hadn’t even told her about Ava or the book deal, though the fact that she was using Ava’s persona to defend herself against her mother hadn’t gone unnoticed.
‘What kind of outfit’s that?’ Joyce spat, as Beth stalked into the sitting room in a flame-red bikini and matching sandals. ‘It’s not decent. You can’t go out there like that.’
Beth simply ignored her. As Ava she didn’t even hear people like Joyce, never mind heed them.
‘Cover yourself up!’ Joyce cried after her. ‘I’ve got to live here.’
Ava turned slowly on her heel to face her. ‘Mother, this is a bikini,’ she said. ‘And out there is a pool. Why are you having trouble matching one with the other?’
‘Don’t you speak to me like that,’ Joyce raged, her face turning puce. ‘There’s no backside in that thing, and no one else round here wears thongs, so I don’t want you out there making a spectacle of yourself because it’ll only reflect on me.’
‘So this is about you, not me?’
Joyce’s nostrils flared as her eyes bulged with fury.
‘Or is it about the fact that my backside is small and firm, whereas yours … isn’t?’
Joyce was so shocked that for a moment she looked like a fish. ‘Just who the hell do you think you’re talking to?’ she demanded, saliva bubbling at the corners of her mouth. ‘I’m your mother! You don’t take that attitude with me.’
‘Then don’t take it with me.’
‘You just get yourself back in that bedroom now, and make yourself decent,’ Joyce shouted in panic as Ava started to move on. ‘If you don’t have a proper swimming costume you can use one of mine.’
‘No thank you,’ Ava responded pleasantly. ‘I’m quite happy with this one. Enjoy your golf,’ and off she stalked.
It was a small victory that made her feel good for a while, but as the day wore on,
and she fell into the self-inflicted misery of composing letter after letter to Colin, she became increasingly unhappy and confused. She was so desperate to talk to him that the need swept through her like bolts of energy, readying her to go to the phone or the car, anywhere that would connect her to him. But for the moment at least, letters were all she had, and knowing she would probably never send them made their comfort very small.
On the third morning Joyce’s hangover was particularly bad, so she had less to say about the bikini this time, though she couldn’t let it go entirely. ‘You look like a tart,’ she sniped as Ava brushed past her in the kitchen to pick up her book.
‘Thank you,’ Ava responded.
‘Why do you want to go flaunting yourself like that, a woman your age? You look ridiculous.’
‘How kind,’ Ava said with a smile. Then looking her full in the face, ‘Would you like to tell me why you dislike me so much, Mother, or shall I just put it down to jealousy?’
‘Jealous of you?’ Joyce snorted. ‘What’s there to be jealous of? And where did this hoity-toity attitude come from, eh? Anyone would think you had something to be proud of, instead of more than enough to be ashamed of.’
Realizing that Colin’s name was only a few seconds away, but forcing herself to think of the book, Ava said, ‘Mother, if only you knew,’ and draping a towel over one shoulder, she slipped on her sunglasses and walked out of the flat showing not a glimmer of the quaking hurt inside.
By mid-morning her mind was clogged with thoughts of Colin again. She felt angry and sad and confused that both he and her mother were treating her so badly. She didn’t understand why. She wasn’t a bad person, and she’d certainly never done anything to hurt them.
Looking down at her long, lean body, she thought of the way Colin always used to touch it. It was almost three months since they’d last made love, and it seemed the deeper the pain of missing him drove, the stronger her desire became. Sometimes it was almost as though the two were linked, for the harder she cried the more aroused she became. But it wasn’t only crying; the agony of thinking and feeling could make her respond the same way. It was as though everything in her was so raw and charged by grief that her emotions were a physical mayhem.
Feeling a new onslaught of panic starting to rise, she abruptly got up from the chaise, picked up her keys and went to let herself back into the apartment. She couldn’t remain alone with her thoughts any longer – they were driving her crazy. She needed some kind of distraction, something to remove her from the misery that was making it so hard to stay calm. After checking her parents weren’t around she picked up the phone.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Ava,’ Caroline said, ‘Robin’s out at a meeting. But I know he wants to talk to you. We’ve had some pretty exciting news.’
Beth’s heart gave a beat of pleasure. This was just what she needed, to hear someone call her Ava, and have them tell her that one part of her life at least was good and free of the pain. ‘I suppose you’re going to keep me on tenterhooks,’ she teased lightly.
‘I’m sorry, but I know Robin wants to tell you himself.’
‘Of course. When will he be back?’
‘Not until the end of the day, but I’m sure he’ll call before he goes home. Probably seven or eight your time.’
‘I’ll be here all evening,’ Ava told her.
After ringing off she went to look in the mirror. Her tan was very deep now, and her glossy, dark chestnut hair had grown a lot these last few weeks. It didn’t look too bad, actually, though now she came to think about it … She tilted her head to one side. No, something about it wasn’t right. For some reason, it didn’t quite suit her. Maybe she should go and get it cut. Or maybe … Yes! Of course. Why hadn’t she realized it before? A woman like Ava would never have brown hair. She’d be seriously held back by such an incorrect feature, which had to be why she was having such trouble staying on top of Beth.
Returning to the phone, she pressed the button for the clubhouse, got put through to the hair salon, and two hours later she re-emerged into the sunlight with an exquisitely stylish blonde crop that framed her face in a way that made her features both sultry and elfin. Hearing someone whistle she smiled, then laughed, and was suddenly warmed by a feeling of more confidence and sexual power than she’d ever had in her life.
‘My God, what have you done?’ her mother cried, when she walked in, the horror appearing quite genuine.
‘Isn’t it fabulous?’ Ava purred, pouting from side to side in the mirror.
Her father was watching from his balcony chair, though staying well out of it.
Joyce’s face was twisted in rancour. ‘Well, at least no one’ll recognize you now,’ she said acidly.
Beth’s teeth were clenched; Ava’s smile was dazzling. ‘Time to go shopping,’ she declared. ‘Can I take the convertible?’
‘As long as you bring it back in one piece. And while you’re out, get yourself some decent clothes.’
‘What’s the matter with this?’ Ava challenged, blousing out the copious folds of her white cotton dress that had a perfectly modest top with shoestring straps.
Joyce merely grunted and turned away, so Ava swept up the keys and went off to find the car.
The local town wasn’t far, though most shops were still closed for the afternoon siesta. It didn’t matter. She was content to stroll around the nearly deserted streets, catching wonderful glimpses of her glamorous new self in darkened windows, and stopping at a stall for ice cream. The vendor didn’t speak English, but the look in his eyes easily conveyed the meaning of his words. Ava laughed in a girlish, flirtatious fashion, then, tossing her head like a diva, she walked off licking her ice cream, knowing he was watching her sensuously swaying hips.
Turning into a narrow, palm-lined street, she continued watching her reflection, falling more and more in love with her gorgeous new look. It was making her feel so alive and reckless, so gloriously detached from her mother’s daughter, that she could almost be a brand-new person. How wonderful that would be to break away from the past completely, let all her problems and fears fade like bad dreams, and step into a whole other existence. Not one that was just temporary, the way Ava was now, but one that could take over entirely, transporting her to whole new experiences she’d never had before, places she’d never been and where no one at all knew her. There’d be no one to hurt her then, no one to tell her she looked like a tart, or that she should get a divorce. With Ava’s glamour and self-confidence she could start a whole new life so full of fun and laughter that everyone, just everyone, would adore her.
Smiling at the fantasy she idled a while at the window of a perfumery before moving lazily on. There was no one else around, except the man strolling along behind her, and though there didn’t appear anything particularly menacing about him, she decided that since this was a bit of a backwater she should maybe return to the main street. However, short of doubling back, she had no other way to go, for she hadn’t any idea which of the narrow lanes she was passing might take her in the right direction. Then she spotted a shop that was open, just up ahead, all its wares displayed outside, from snorkels and flippers, to buckets and spades, to T-shirts and shorts.
Pausing to browse, she waited to see what the man following her would do. From the few glimpses she’d caught of him, she didn’t think he was Spanish, but it was hard to tell in a distorted shop-window reflection. He was very close to her now, still ambling along, hands in his pockets, eyes mainly on the sky above as he whistled tunefully to himself. In fact he didn’t even look at her as he passed, just continued on down the street, as though he were the only human being in the world.
She was about to turn back the way she’d come when the shop’s owner appeared, and beckoned her inside.
‘I have very beautiful dresses for the lady,’ he told her. ‘Very beautiful for the night and for the day. Come. You see.’
Well, that was what she was here for, to do some shopping, and though this didn’t look at all li
ke Ava’s kind of shop, with nothing else open why not give it a try?
To her amazement, when she stepped inside she found she was in another world altogether. There was no touristy bric-a-brac in here, in fact there was hardly any clutter at all, with the exception of a couple of overstuffed dress racks and a small mountain of boxes. The rest of the carefully spot-lit interior was given over to an impressive display of women’s clothing by many designers she’d heard of and some she hadn’t. There was some expensive-looking beachwear too, and even a selection of designer shoes.
The owner was beaming with pride. ‘Everyone have surprise when they come in for first time,’ he told her. ‘But my special customers, they know about me. They come always to Antonio. I have the best dresses. Please, you look.’
Happy to, Ava turned to a row of exotic-looking sarongs that had already caught her eye. Taking one from the hanger, she wrapped it around her waist and turned to the mirror. Immediately her heart lifted at the blonde vision she now was, with her perfect golden tan and simple white dress.
‘Please, you try anything,’ Antonio insisted. ‘You have very lovely shape. All dresses look good on you.’
Absorbing the compliment, Ava cast him a look from the corner of her eye, then carried on browsing. He was tall for a Spaniard, she was thinking, with a pretty good body of his own. His shirt was open almost to the waist, and his trousers were the customary hip-huggers the Latins often went in for. She guessed he was around the same age as her, though maybe a little older. It could be fun trying on clothes and having him admire her.
The first two dresses she slipped into were from the Armani day collection. Though elegant, they didn’t set either her or Antonio on fire, so he began bringing in a slightly more colourful selection with more daring cuts and unusual styles. It was exciting her to leave the curtain partially open while she changed, so he could see her in her strapless bra and panties. The bra was only because the white dress was semi-transparent; she was hardly well-endowed enough to make one necessary otherwise. Then Antonio brought her a stunning gold evening gown that was cut very low in front and had no back at all.
