by Susan Lewis
‘Friday!’ Georgie cried, when she came in from her workout. ‘Isn’t that a bit soon?’
Beth shrugged. ‘Why wait? They want to get started, and what am I doing here besides trying to fight off an editor who doesn’t understand no, and hanging around for a letter that’s probably never going to come?’
‘Actually,’ Georgie said, pulling open a drawer, ‘it arrived with the second post.’
It was suddenly as though day had turned into night, or the world had started spinning the other way. She’d been so convinced Colin wouldn’t write back, so engrossed in her Hollywood plans, that she couldn’t make the change. She stared at the prison envelope, so fearful, yet hopeful, of what it might contain that the conflict was making it hard to move. She’d prayed every night for a letter, but now it was here she wasn’t sure she wanted it. She could see that it had come through regular channels, rather than through Bruce. Was that significant? Would it make it harder, or easier to read? If there was a visiting order she would see that first. She’d know then that it would be easier. But if there was, what would she do if it was dated after Friday?
Her eyes came up to Georgie’s. ‘I almost want you to read it for me,’ she said in a hushed voice.
Georgie put it on the table. ‘I’m going to have a shower,’ she said. ‘There’s wine in the fridge if you need some fortification.’
Beth nodded, then realizing she did, she opened a cupboard and took out a glass. ‘Theo Kennedy, the producer, doesn’t seem to drink,’ she said, her voice sounding oddly distant to her own ears.
‘Probably in rehab,’ Georgie commented. ‘Half of them are.’
‘What about the other half?’
‘They’re fun.’
Beth smiled vaguely, then poured the wine as Georgie went off to the bathroom. After taking a sip she sat down at the table and forced herself to tear open the envelope. There was no visiting order, just a single blue page.
My darling Beth,
I have read your letter over and over, and though I’ve tried many times I know I’ll never be able to find the words to tell you how truly sorry I am for all the pain and anguish I have caused you, or for the times I’ve deceived you. No man could ever ask for a more beautiful, supportive and loving wife. I have been truly blessed in you, my darling, yet how do I repay you? By abusing your trust, dishonouring your love, and failing to appreciate your loyalty. And now, when I deserve your scorn and contempt, you are there, wanting to stand by me to show the world how deeply you believe in me. For that, and for everything else you are, I will always love you. But, my darling, I can’t hold you to me any longer. You have a life to live, one that is just opening up with all the new and exciting challenges you told me about in your letter, which I’m sure will bring all the success and recognition you so deserve.
It filled my heart with pride when I read about Ava’s achievement – and I love her name, by the way. I’d already read about her in the paper, which was hard, not hearing it from you first, but all the excitement you expressed in your letter more than made up for me finding out that way. Will you send me a copy when it’s in print?
I don’t know how long I will be in here now, but don’t feel badly, darling, that you’ve doubted me. I didn’t kill Sophie, but I can understand why you, and so many others believe I did, when the evidence looks the way it does. So yes, of course I forgive you for thinking the worst, though I’m relieved to hear that you no longer do. I’ve relented now, and am allowing others to try finding out what really happened that day. All the time I’ve been afraid for your safety, wondering if your association with me will bring you harm. I will tell you no more than that, because I don’t want you to bear the burden of secrets that I only half know anyway. It won’t surprise you to hear that I’ve turned to journalists for help. I just hope I’ve chosen the right ones. My own close colleagues appear to have deserted me, so I’m left with the girl who delivered the news of my arrest, and Elliot Russell, who we’ve both met once or twice in the past. He is not an easy man to intimidate, and has a way of getting to the truth that I hope will eventually return me to freedom.
If that happens, my darling, I want you to know that I will go to Heather and Jessica. Your offer to accept my daughter into our lives reduced me to tears, but, Beth, I can’t let you sacrifice yourself any more. You deserve all the happiness and triumphs Ava can bring you, so, darling, seize your opportunities and know that I will always be there for you in spirit.
God bless and good luck,
Colin
Beth was sobbing and laughing, twisting her hair, and trying to be strong, but this was so devastating she didn’t know if she could hold on. The last thing she wanted now was to go to Hollywood. Ava was nothing, no one, just a false dimension of her battered mind that she was using to protect herself from the pain. But it wasn’t working; the pain was still there, and it would never go away because in the end Colin was all that mattered – not a book, or a script, or even a new life. But he didn’t want her. He’d chosen Jessica. The daughter that should have been hers. How was she going to bear this? Oh God, how could she change his mind?
She looked around the empty kitchen. What should she do now? Almost without thinking she shouted Georgie’s name. Georgie needed to know this, she might be able to help.
Georgie’s feet sounded in the hall. ‘Oh no,’ she groaned, seeing Beth’s stricken, tear-stained face. ‘What does it say?’
Beth passed her the letter. Georgie read swiftly, then turned to take Beth in her arms. ‘I’m sorry,’ she soothed. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’
‘I’ve got to see him,’ Beth sobbed. ‘I can change his mind if I see him. I know I can.’
‘Of course, I’ll speak to Bruce. I’ll ring him right now.’
‘Is she there with you?’ Bruce asked after Georgie told him why she was calling.
‘Yes,’ she answered.
‘OK. Well, I’ve got no reason to think he’ll change his mind, but he’s due to call here in the next half-hour. I’ll put it to him, and get back to you.’
‘Oh God, I can’t bear it,’ Beth groaned, when Georgie passed on the message. ‘He’s got to say yes. He’s just got to.’
‘Pour me one too,’ Georgie said, as Beth refilled her glass.
Five minutes later the phone rang, making them both jump.
‘Hello?’ Georgie said into the receiver. ‘Ava? Oh yes, she’s right here. Who’s calling please?’ Covering the mouthpiece she said, ‘It’s Theo Kennedy.’
Beth was confused and panicky. She wanted to speak to him, but not now. Her head was in chaos and he just wasn’t a part of this world, where she was Beth Ashby, a murderer’s wife, who was afraid and vulnerable, desperate to speak to her husband and ready to abandon a future of riches and fame. But Georgie had already said she was there, so she had no choice. She had to speak to him now and somehow make herself sound like Ava, the super-cool siren he’d been with earlier.
Taking the phone, she said, ‘Hello, Theo. How nice to hear from you.’
‘Quick call,’ he told her. ‘I just need to know where to send the car on Friday?’
Frowning, she said, ‘What car?’
‘To take you to the airport.’
‘Oh, uh yes …’ she said, looking at Georgie and wondering if she should prepare Theo now for the fact that she might not be going.
‘By the way,’ he said, ‘I just got word from Eric Weston’s agent. He’s agreed to read the manuscript.’
Who was Eric Weston? Then she remembered, it was the director he was after. ‘That’s good,’ she said.
‘It’s great,’ he corrected. ‘So, the address …’
‘Well, actually, Theo,’ she said, ‘I might have a bit of a problem –’
‘Oh, hell,’ he cut in, ‘there goes my other line. I’ll get back to you.’
After he’d rung off, Beth picked up her wine.
‘Have you changed your mind about going?’ Georgie said.
‘I don’t know.
I suppose it depends if Colin will see me.’ She took a sip of wine, then said, ‘Everything in my life has always depended on Colin, one way or the other. I can’t change it just like that.’
‘But you’re trying,’ Georgie reminded her.
Beth smiled weakly and nodded. Yes, she was trying.
It was another forty minutes before the phone rang again.
‘Bruce, hi, darling,’ Georgie said, experiencing some of Beth’s nerves on hearing his voice.
‘Is she still with you?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘OK. Well, you’ll have to find a way of breaking this to her, because he obviously finds it a lot easier to be brutal about her than to her.’
Georgie braced herself.
‘He said, and I quote, “If this place doesn’t do anything else for me, at least it’ll get me out of a marriage I should have got out of years ago. So no, I don’t want her coming here, and tell her I don’t want her asking again.”’
Somehow Georgie managed to keep the shock from her expression, though she turned away so that Beth could no longer see her eyes. ‘I see,’ she said. ‘Well, that’s a shame, but if it’s not possible, I suppose –’
‘Let me speak to him,’ Beth demanded, reaching for the phone.
Reluctantly Georgie handed it over.
‘Why’s he doing this?’ Beth cried into the receiver. ‘I don’t understand why he wants to keep hurting me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Bruce said. ‘I wish I knew what to tell you.’
‘Then you tell him that I’m going to America, and unless I’m subpoenaed I won’t be back for his trial.’ And without saying goodbye she slammed the phone down.
Rhona yawned and resettled Ruby, the cat, on to the sofa beside her. It was too hot to be smothered in all that fur, no matter how silky and feathery it felt. ‘You shouldn’t be doing that,’ she chided, as Laurie put a tray of hors-d’oeuvres on the polished walnut and chrome coffee table that had arrived from Italy two days before Andrew and Stephen had left. ‘I’m supposed to be the one looking after you.’
‘But you’ve been at work all day, whilst I’ve just been sitting here on the phone or the Internet,’ Laurie reminded her. ‘And besides, I’ve decided to renounce my invalid status as of now. It’s getting on my nerves.’
‘Well, I’ll let you be the one to tell Elliot,’ Rhona responded, helping herself to a savoury pretzel.
Laurie let that go, as filling up their glasses with her own speciality fruit cocktail she said, ‘So go on telling me about Beth Ashby.’
‘Ava Montgomery,’ Rhona corrected. ‘There’s not really any more to tell. Just that she’s dyed her hair blonde, looks outrageously chic, and stalks down the office as though she’s already got six bestsellers on the shelves rather than one in the works. Stacey would never admit it, of course, but it sounds like she’s turning into a real handful – won’t make any changes to the book, totally disdained the jacket design … Is that mine?’
‘No, mine,’ Laurie said, picking up her mobile. ‘Laurie Forbes.’
‘Elliot Russell,’ he responded.
‘Where are you?’
‘Stuck in traffic on Blackfriars Bridge. Have you spoken to Murray?’
‘About Sandra Chettle and Philip Buck?’ she said, referring to the contacts Colin Ashby had given her. ‘Yes, I have, and he hasn’t got anywhere either. But Morton Shields is right here at Canary Wharf. I’m thinking of going over there in person. If I call from reception Philip Buck might be persuaded to come down for a moment.’
‘OK. Just make sure Stan goes with you.’
‘You’re surely not suggesting a foreign exchange dealer is dangerous,’ she protested.
‘No, but I know what you can be like when you don’t get your own way.’
Wishing it hadn’t made her laugh, she said, ‘So what’s new your end?’
‘Can I come over?’
If only she could make herself say no. ‘Does that mean you’ve got something interesting?’ she countered. ‘By the way, Sam deBugger, as Murray calls him, appeared today and swept me clean.’
‘Did it need it?’
‘No, apparently.’
‘Ah well, you can never be too careful. Yes, it does mean I’ve got something interesting. I’ve just spent a couple of hours with Bruce Cottle. There’s a lot to tell, but how’s this for coming attractions – Beth Ashby’s taking off for LaLa Land the day after tomorrow. Apparently they’re turning the book into a feature film.’
Laurie’s eyes widened as they went to Rhona. ‘You never told me that,’ she said.
‘What?’ Rhona and Elliot said in unison.
‘Rhona’s here,’ she said into the phone. ‘Did you know Beth Ashby’s book is being made into a movie?’ she asked Rhona.
Rhona shook her head. ‘It’s the first I’ve heard,’ she said. ‘But I don’t know everything. Why, is it a big deal?’
‘I’m not sure,’ she answered. ‘Is it a big deal?’ she asked Elliot.
‘It could be,’ he replied. ‘Have you got the fax turned on? I need Jed and Liam to send over the stuff they’ve been working on today.’
‘It’s on,’ she confirmed. ‘What time should we expect you?’
‘About half an hour.’
‘We’re ordering in food. Do you have a preference?’
‘I won’t be staying that long,’ he answered.
Annoyed at her disappointment, she said, ‘Then why not tell me your news on the phone? It’ll save you dragging all the way over here.’ But she was talking into a dead connection.
‘I wish he’d learn the art of saying goodbye,’ she snapped, throwing her mobile on to the cushion beside her.
‘The man’s a brute,’ Rhona agreed, selecting herself a juicy little crab cake. Then chuckling as Laurie slanted her a look, she said, ‘So, Ava’s off to Hollywood. Does that confuse or clarify matters? No, don’t bother to tell me, it’ll only burden me with things I’d probably rather not know. Did you call your father back, by the way? He left a message last night, after you’d gone to bed.’
‘Yes, I spoke to him,’ Laurie confirmed. ‘He sounds on good form, actually, but I ended up snapping at my mother as usual.’
‘What about this time?’
‘Elliot, would you believe? Apparently he called a couple of days ago and spoke to my father, so now my mother wants us all to get together for a cosy little chin-wag.’
‘Wow! That’s a bit of a turn-up. What does Elliot say?’
‘I haven’t discussed it with him, nor will I, because it’s not going to happen. At least not with me, it isn’t.’
‘Oh, go on, a good old purging of the soul, a bit of happy hand-clapping and thanks be to God – I can’t think of a better way to spend a Sunday.’
‘Who said anything about Sunday?’
Rhona shrugged. ‘It just seemed like a good day.’
‘Let’s change the subject,’ Laurie said irritably. It was bad enough feeling the way she did about him coming over here and not staying long, without having to go into the deeper implications of a get-it-all-out routine with her parents.
‘What time did he say he’d be here?’ Rhona asked, looking at her watch.
‘In about half an hour.’
‘Great. That should give me just enough time to shower and make myself gorgeous.’
Laurie looked at her in amazement, until the slow beat of suspicion turned her expression darker. ‘I didn’t know you –’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ Rhona cried. ‘Not for him. For Josh. I was thinking, if Elliot’s going to be here, I can go out for the evening.’
Laurie gave a laugh of surprise. ‘Elliot doesn’t need to be here for that,’ she told her. ‘I’m perfectly OK on my own. I’ve got Sam Spade outside, remember?’
‘Yeah, well, I just don’t want you to be lonely, that’s all.’
‘Who said I was lonely?’
‘No one. I simply meant I don’t want you to be. You’re ver
y defensive tonight.’
‘Am I?’
‘Yes.’
‘Sorry.’
‘It’s OK. You’re allowed, once in a while.’
When Elliot arrived about twenty minutes later, Laurie was just coming down from Andrew’s office, flipping through the twenty-page fax Jed and Liam had sent.
‘Rhona let me in,’ he explained, when she stopped on the stairs in surprise.
‘Of course.’ She returned to the fax, not wanting to prolong eye contact. ‘Would you like a drink?’ she offered. ‘There’s some fruit cocktail on the table in the lounge. It’s got rum in it.’
‘Sounds good,’ he responded.
As he went to get one she carried on reading the fax, though her concentration was poor. This wasn’t the first time she’d seen him since the night following her attack, but it was the first time they’d been alone, and she was feeling annoyingly on edge and uncomfortable with it.
‘So what else did Bruce Cottle have to say?’ she asked, when he came back into the kitchen. ‘Actually, shall we go outside?’ she suggested, realizing they were about to return to the positions they’d been in the other night. ‘It’s probably dried off after the rain.’
‘Did it rain today?’ he asked, following her out.
‘Only slightly. Here’s the fax, by the way.’
Putting his glass down on the table, he flicked quickly through the pages.
‘The graphs,’ she told him, ‘reflect the past three-year trends in the currencies you requested. The tables are more detailed versions of the same, and the text is Jed and Liam’s analysis of the whole. I’ve been on the phone with them half the day, so I’ve got a pretty good idea of what they’ve found so far.’
He was nodding as she spoke, then his eyes narrowed as he looked at the closing line. ‘Inconclusive,’ he said. ‘Which is hardly a surprise. Are they calling in more experts?’
She nodded. She turned over a couple of pages, then pushed them towards him. ‘Berlin’s regained control of East Prussia,’ she stated. ‘Incalculable sums of money involved there, and who has it benefited most at this stage? We’re working on the answers. Mitterrand’s former foreign minister and his corruption trial – is this the syndicate taking some kind of revenge on one of its own?’
