Silent Truths

by Susan Lewis

  When finally she walked into the kitchen, twin patches of blusher on her cheeks and one half of her hair brushed flat while the other remained matted and on end, there was only Elliot, sitting at the counter-bar eating a sandwich.

  ‘Where’s Rhona?’ she asked, shuffling over to get some water from the filter.

  He raised his eyes towards the roof terrace. ‘How many men does she have?’ he said, taking another bite.

  Laurie’s mouth was watering as she looked at the double layers of fresh crusty bread, with a creamy dressing oozing out of the sides. ‘According to Rhona, never enough,’ she answered. ‘What’s in that?’

  ‘Cheese, ham and coleslaw.’ He took another bite and Laurie’s mouth almost moved with his as he chewed.

  ‘Shame you’re not hungry,’ he commented. ‘This is good.’

  She was staring at the other half, sitting like exposed prey on a plate. ‘Well, I could probably –’

  ‘Here,’ he said, pushing it towards her.

  She looked up and, seeing the mirth in his eyes, she might have withdrawn if she had the will. But hunger won out.

  ‘So what about you?’ he said as she positioned the two-inch-thick sandwich ready to bite.

  She frowned. ‘What about me?’

  He watched her chomp down hard on far too big a mouthful. ‘Men,’ he said. ‘Are you seeing anyone these days?’

  ‘Mmm, hm, nnn, mmm hm,’ she responded, pressing her fingers to her lips. ‘Not really,’ she finally managed. ‘Well, nothing serious.’

  ‘What about Greg?’

  ‘That’s over.’ She took another more modest mouthful and wished Rhona would hurry up on the phone. This was getting too personal again. ‘What about you?’ she said after a while. ‘Are you seeing anyone?’

  ‘Nothing serious,’ he answered.

  She nodded.

  He started to ask how her parents were, then, remembering the response he’d got last time, thought better of it, and said instead, ‘You know, any time you want to talk … I mean, we don’t have to at all, but if you feel the need to …’

  Her heartbeat didn’t feel steady. He was referring to Lysette, of course, but she wanted to tell herself it was Ashby. In the end she said, ‘We shouldn’t make that a part of this.’

  ‘No. You’re probably right.’ He finished his sandwich then went to get more wine from the fridge. ‘By the way, Stan’s outside,’ he told her. ‘I’ll give you his mobile so you can let him know when you’re ready to say hello.’

  She frowned. ‘Stan?’ But even as she said it she remembered and was about to protest, when the idea of being watched over for the next few days didn’t seem quite so bad after all. ‘I’ve started worrying about the code,’ she confessed as he refilled his glass with a crisp-looking Australian chardonnay. ‘If they can’t work it out, do you think they’ll come back?’

  His dark eyes were expressionless as they looked at her. ‘Just introduce yourself to Stan,’ he said.

  His failure to deny it made her heart contract and the dizziness was returning to her head. ‘You think they will, don’t you?’ she said.

  ‘It’s possible. So we need to sit down tomorrow and go over everything you can remember that was on the computer. I don’t suppose you have back-ups?’

  ‘Actually, yes. But they’ve gone too.’

  He took a sip of wine and watched her over the rim of the glass. His eyes seemed suddenly relentless, as though they were boring right into her mind. She wanted to pull away, but even when her eyelids dropped she still felt bound by that invasive stare.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, putting a hand to her head. ‘Maybe I’m not …’

  She didn’t finish, nor did he say anything. He merely continued to watch her, until finally she rescued herself the only way she knew how. ‘I’ve been thinking about the Ashby women,’ she said, asserting herself on a professional level. ‘The wife and the mistress, not the mother.’

  His expression showed interest.

  ‘What’s the mistress like?’ she asked.

  ‘Down to earth. Friendly. Very open.’

  ‘Have you ever met the wife?’

  ‘Once or twice. I can’t say I know her.’

  ‘Do you know if they’ve ever met?’

  ‘Heather says not.’

  ‘Do you believe her?’

  ‘I think so. Why?’

  Laurie watched him as he drank more wine. Then, raising her eyes from his hand, she said, ‘I’ve wondered if all three of them might be in it together, Colin, Beth and Heather, working some kind of master plan that’ll rip off the syndicate to the tune of millions and buy them a safe haven somewhere in the sun.’

  Though Eliot seemed surprised, he nodded slowly, mulling the suggestion over as he stretched his long legs out in front of him and crossed them.

  ‘But even if that’s true,’ she said, ‘how they’d pull it off is beyond my powers of deduction, especially when Ashby’s on remand for murder.’

  ‘And why would they need to kill Sophie?’ he pointed out.

  She had no answer for that, and was in fact noticing the white Lacoste shirt that Lysette had given him. She even remembered going with her to choose it, and thinking at the time how good he looked in white, being so dark. ‘Is there any chance of you talking to Beth Ashby?’ she asked abruptly, knowing it would be giving away the biggest part of this for her, but if he stood more chance than she did she’d make herself accept it.

  ‘Not that I know of,’ he answered. ‘Did you know they’re supposed to be getting divorced?’

  Laurie nodded. ‘Yes. He told me. I confess I found that very odd. Why would they do it now, at a time when most men would be trying to tie their wives to them as tightly as possible?’

  ‘Heather Dance says he’s wanted to end the marriage for some time.’

  ‘Do you believe that?’

  ‘I think she does. Certainly she’s in regular touch with him, whereas Beth apparently isn’t.’

  As he raised a hand to comb his fingers through his hair Laurie’s gaze moved to the watch on his wrist. It wasn’t one she remembered. Then she looked at his scowl and suddenly remembered too much.

  Finally his eyes came back to hers, but as he started to speak, he frowned again. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. Why?’

  ‘You’ve gone pale.’

  ‘It’s my natural colour,’ she said, feeling strangely shaky and edgy.

  He looked at her hard.

  She looked back, and tried to summon her defences. Why was she suddenly losing it like this? What had happened? Where was her mind going?

  ‘That’s enough for now,’ he declared. ‘You need to get some more rest.’

  Picking up his glass and plate he walked round the counter-top towards her.

  She watched him warily, senses swimming. When he reached her he stopped and looked down into her eyes. He was so close she could smell the male scent of him, and almost feel him, though he wasn’t touching her at all. For one breathless moment as he leant towards her, to put his plate and cup in the sink, she thought he was going to kiss her. Her lips parted as she struggled for air. She had no idea what was happening. She couldn’t make herself think straight. Then finally relinquishing the hold on her eyes he returned to his stool.

  Turning away quickly she wondered if he’d known she’d wanted his kiss. Oh, please God, no he hadn’t. This was insufferable. Unthinkable. She meant no more to him than Lysette ever had, and that she could still want him like this, after everything that had happened, and after so much time had passed, was so horrendous she could hardly stand it. She wished he would go. She wanted to scream and rant and loathe herself in private. She wanted to berate God and the world and the universe for the weakness she’d struggled so hard to overcome. But how was she ever going to when they kept being thrown together like this?

  ‘You know, I think I might need to lie down again,’ she said, somehow keeping her voice steady. ‘You don’t have
to stay any longer. Rhona’s here.’

  He didn’t answer right away, but she couldn’t turn round. The air of professionalism had vanished. It was entirely personal now, and she knew he sensed it. It was as though everything they were avoiding was right there, waiting to be confronted, no longer willing to hide behind a pretence. This was getting out of hand. She wasn’t in control and she didn’t know what would happen if she looked at him again. With all her might she willed him just to leave, until finally, mercifully, she heard him get up and walk to the door.

  ‘I know this isn’t going to be easy,’ he said, ‘for either of us, and I won’t ask for your forgiveness again. I just want you to believe that I never meant it to happen. If I’d known –’

  ‘Don’t say any more,’ she sobbed, pressing her hands to her face. ‘Please, just don’t say any more.’

  A moment or two later she heard the front door close downstairs behind him, followed by the Porsche roaring off down the street. By then all the tears she’d kept bottled up since early that morning were erupting in harsh, racking sobs and coursing hard down her cheeks. She knew it was the shock coming out, and she’d keep telling herself that, but she knew too that she’d just hurt him again, and she desperately wanted to go after him, and tell him she did believe it, because of course he hadn’t meant it to happen, no one had, and the one who was really to blame wasn’t him at all. It was her.

  Chapter 16

  BETH WAS LOOKING at Theo Kennedy across the lunch table. For a so-called Hollywood producer, he was surprisingly softly spoken and had an air of dignity and integrity about him that she really hadn’t been expecting at all, even though Robin Lindsay had told her what a respected and acclaimed filmmaker he was. Not being familiar with the movie world herself, she hadn’t heard of him until Robin had first mentioned him, but it turned out she’d seen one of his films, which might have been helpful were she able to remember now what it was about. However, she needn’t have worried, because the subject, so far, had centred round her book, which he seemed to have a genuine high regard for. Naturally, his praise was welcome, and his screen-adaptation proposals, though vague at this early stage, were interesting. But as he waxed on about special effects and story techniques, she was, for the moment at least, more intrigued by the man himself.

  She guessed he was around forty, and even if the accent hadn’t told her he was American, the look certainly would, for he had that shiny, yet rugged, sort of cleanness about him, that made his features appear freshly sculpted, and his body genetically enhanced to athletic perfection. His hair was probably naturally sun-bleached and curled, she decided, though she could easily imagine his super-white, dead-straight teeth on the front of some Hollywood dentist’s portfolio of successes. And then there were his eyes, which were such a deep, lavender blue she had to wonder about tinted contacts, though they were so grave and intense, even when he smiled, that it made the idea of such artificial aids seem unlikely. In fact, he appeared to take himself very seriously indeed, and had, she noticed, either missed the few ironies Robin Lindsay had dropped into proceedings, or simply hadn’t found them amusing at all.

  Realizing he’d moved on to the subject of casting, she started paying attention again, listening to the various names he was considering for the role of Carlotta. Most were instantly recognizable, and, as he put it, guaranteed box office, though personally she found that more of a turn-off than a turn-on. However, she didn’t voice her opinion, for she could see she was supposed to be impressed by these legends, and there was simply no point in making objections until the suggestions were promoted from a producer’s hyperbole to the status of serious contenders, for even she knew that most of what was discussed at this stage fell into the category of blarney and bluster.

  ‘But getting the script together is priority one,’ Theo informed them. ‘Obviously we can circulate a copy of the book manuscript to the potential leads, but if we can show them a red-hot script, they’ll be more likely to commit.’

  ‘Do you have someone in mind to write the screenplay?’ Robin asked, sitting back as a waiter came to clear away their entrées.

  ‘Mitzi Bower’s my first choice,’ he answered. ‘She co-wrote Heaven Came Down, which won at Sundance a couple of years ago. She’s done a couple of scripts for me since, both are in development, and I’m here to tell you she’s good.’ He turned to Beth, who blinked at the way his lavender gaze seemed suddenly to glow with feeling. ‘You two should really get along,’ he told her earnestly. ‘She doesn’t come loaded down with the kind of ego that’ll get us stuck in the starting gate. She’s easy, laid-back, and she’ll welcome your input as story consultant. How soon do you reckon you can get out to California?’

  Beth blinked again, then looked at Robin. ‘Well, uh, I’m not sure,’ she answered. ‘When were you thinking?’

  ‘Just as soon as you can make it,’ he replied, picking up his glass of iced water. ‘The quicker we get moving on this, the better chance we’ll have of pulling in the cast and director before my option runs out. Did I tell you I’ve spoken to Eric Weston about directing?’ he added, more to Robin than Beth.

  Robin frowned. ‘I don’t think I know that name,’ he said.

  ‘He’s got a film coming out in the fall. I’ll try to get you an advance copy. Everyone’s tipping it for an Oscar next year. He’s young, kind of crazy, looks like a geek, but he’s got an unusual style that could be just right for this. I’m waiting to hear back from his agent.’

  ‘What sort of accommodation are you arranging for Ava once she gets to Hollywood?’ Robin asked.

  ‘I’ve got my PA on it,’ Theo answered, returning his attention to Beth. ‘We’re looking into renting a house somewhere in Beverly Hills or West Hollywood. Not too far from the office, which is on Wilshire, west of Doheny. Do you know LA at all?’

  Beth shook her head.

  ‘Don’t worry about it. It’s not hard to learn, especially when you’re going in at this level. If I can get Mitzi on the project, it might be a good idea for you two to move in together for the duration. Would you have a problem with that?’

  Beth shrugged. ‘It’s hard to say when I’ve never met her,’ she answered, ‘but I’d be willing to give it a try.’ It was amazing, she was thinking, how smoothly her words were going along with this when her heart, whilst not exactly resisting, was still there on the fence. But of course she would go, she knew that already, because apart from anything else she’d just signed the contract to say she would act as story consultant. Not that she was going to get rich on what Theo was paying her during the option period, but since that wasn’t the point of the exercise, she was hardly going to make it an issue.

  ‘Is there any more editing to be done on the book?’ he asked. ‘Anything that might change things from the way they stand right now?’

  ‘No,’ Robin answered, before Ava could speak. He felt it best not to get into the little tussle she was currently having with Stacey about the few cuts Stacey had suggested. ‘Everything will be as per the manuscript.’

  Beth treated him to one of Ava’s dazzling smiles. How wonderful it was to be able to rely on his support. Picking up her wine she said, ‘So, Theo, when are you going back to LA?’

  ‘Friday,’ he answered.

  She mulled that over, then said, ‘Maybe I could get the same flight.’

  Both men appeared taken aback. ‘Well, sure,’ Theo said, ‘if you can be ready that fast. It’ll mean staying in a hotel when you first get there, but hell, there’s no shortage in LA.’

  Beth was smiling, amused by the speed of her decision, and pleased that she’d actually made it. After all, what was the point in delaying, when she needed to put as much distance as she could, emotionally and geographically, between herself and Colin – and whoever it was following her. Though she still hadn’t spotted anyone since returning from Spain, someone was there, she could sense it, just like a bird could sense when danger was close.

  ‘Who’ll be paying for the hotel?
’ Robin enquired, ever the agent.

  ‘We will,’ Theo answered, meaning his production company.

  ‘The Four Seasons?’

  ‘Or equivalent,’ Kennedy responded.

  As she regarded them Beth felt herself flood with affection. It was so comforting, and enjoyable, having them take care of her like this. If it continued it might almost make up for Colin’s neglect.

  ‘What’s the weather like in LA?’ she asked Theo.

  ‘Hotter than this. And don’t expect too much in the way of humidity. You might hear Californians complaining about it, but in comparison to here, it’s drier than paper. You’ll need a great moisturizer at all times, and plenty of sunscreen. But don’t worry, Mitzi’ll get you fixed up with everything, including all the right spas and masseuses and manicurists and hair salons …’ For the first time his smile seemed to reach his eyes. ‘We’ll turn you into a real California girl,’ he promised.

  Beth’s eyebrows were up. ‘What about the accent?’ she said. ‘I don’t think I’d do too well with that.’

  ‘Oh no,’ he protested, ‘your Englishness is going to be as effective a passport as your book, so no way do we want to lose it.’

  She didn’t respond to that, though the idea of Ava with a Californian accent was already starting to gain some appeal.

  Later in the afternoon, after returning to Bruce and Georgie’s London flat, she stripped off Ava’s neutral Armani sheath and stepped into a cooling shower. She was intrigued and slightly amused by the way she was going so effortlessly with the flow of this new stream of events. Was this how easy life could be if she just allowed it to happen? Tickets were now being arranged, hotels booked and houses rented, all in order to transport her from this turbulent yet familiar world to one where she hardly knew what to expect, apart from sunshine, luxury and the freedom to be, as Robin had put it, whosoever she wanted to be.