They stared at each other and for a moment it was as if they were drowning in each other’s gazes. Cathy, certainly, was reliving in the flesh all she had been visualising in her mind: his tall, loose-limbed body and wayward hair, those clever eyes which were often so hard to read—and as the thought slipped across her mind, they did just that—became unreadable and no longer intent on her hair that was tied back today but still curly and vitally fair, her eyes, her jeans and white silk blouse—even her white Reeboks.
And it was Tom who broke the silence—in an uncharacteristically banal way, for him. ‘You’re back.’
‘Yes… You’re in a bit of a mess.’
His mouth twisted. ‘I was going to have a big clean-up next week. I didn’t expect Duncan to succeed.’
‘Oh.’ Cathy looked around awkwardly. ‘I’ll do it. I thought you might be at the studio.’
‘No. I walked down to get the paper.’ He had it under his arm, but from the rather surprised look he gave it as he pulled it out it was almost as if he’d forgotten it was there.
‘Another one,’ Cathy said with a faint smile. ‘I don’t know how we’re going to get rid of them all. Well…’ She turned away and began to pick up towels and clothes.
But he said, ‘How’s home?’
‘Fine, although William was away——’ she hesitated ‘—gone fishing with his grandfather.’
‘Lucky William! Cat, leave that. You’re making me feel guilty.’
‘But it has to be done!’
‘Later, then,’ he said with an amused glint in his hazel eyes. ‘I’ll give you a hand. Why don’t you come for a walk with me?’
She turned to face him. ‘You’ve just been for a walk.’
‘There’s a band playing in the bandstand, it’s a beautiful afternoon and we could have a sundowner.’
How does one do it? Cathy asked herself much later, in the darkened bedroom, as Tom rolled off her body but immediately reclaimed her in his arms. How can you partake in lovemaking when you’re so much at odds with your partner—yourself, even, and you’ve made certain resolutions—without hating it or being stiff and tense? How was I? Not stiff, not tense, although not terribly involved but acquiescent…yes, that’s the word, acquiescent. So how do you explain that? Do you tell yourself he is still your husband, you do have a duty and he did seem to want you rather urgently? What’s more, now you’re lying comfortably in his arms, listening to him starting to fall asleep, certainly not aching to tell him any home truths or tell him anything, for that matter. It’s as if—all afternoon and evening together it’s been the same, no real communication but still together. Out of habit? she reflected. Is that how marriages jog along? Out of habit with neither one really knowing what the other is thinking. He hasn’t asked me anything——
‘Cat?’
Surprise caused her to move. ‘Yes?’
‘All right?’
‘Mmm… I thought you were asleep.’
‘No. Do you want to talk?’ He stroked her bare arm.
She was silent.
‘Tell me why you came back and how long you plan to stay, for example,’ he said very quietly, and moved his hand down the curve of her hip beneath the sheet.
She slipped her hand beneath her cheek and stared into the darkness, then said with a tremor of desolation, ‘I don’t think I know anything any more—I thought I did, I thought I had it all worked out. One of the things I’d worked out was that if you still wanted me it would have to be on my terms or not at all, but then—well—oh, I don’t know,’ she sighed.
‘What,’ he paused, ‘are your terms?’
‘But that’s the thing—they don’t seem to make sense now. I mean, we can’t change each other, can we? I can’t help changing and you can’t help it if you hate it.’
‘I don’t hate it!’
‘Well, don’t want me to. And there are the times you don’t want me at all,’ she said barely audibly.
‘I thought I’d explained—about that.’
‘You also accused me of turning to a life of seduction when in fact all I wanted to do was rub your back and…’ She stopped as she felt his jolt of laughter and bit her lip. ‘I know it sounds——’
‘If I laughed it was only because that makes me feel rather geriatric,’ said Tom before she could go on.
‘Well,’ Cathy struggled to be honest, ‘I didn’t only want to rub your back, I wanted us to be able to talk to each other, and I thought it might be easier if we were physically close—you yourself said it might be all we needed to say to each other.’
‘And you didn’t see it quite like that—on one memorable occasion, Cathy.’
She sighed. ‘No—and I was more right than I knew,’ she added.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, when I seduced you the next morning——’
‘Very successfully!’
‘Perhaps,’ she said drily, ‘but I don’t think you see that as my role at all, although the few times it’s happened it’s been because you’ve moved me to it, so how can it be wrong?’
‘The few times it’s happened I’ve moved you to anger or desperation—oh, hell,’ he said wearily.
‘Whatever,’ she said. ‘But does it matter when two people love…?’ She broke off and flinched.
The silence stretched.
‘In fact, you often seduce me without even trying,’ Tom said at last.
‘I think Cathy Kerris did,’ Cathy said forlornly. ‘I don’t know about Cathy West.’
He started to say something, but didn’t finish because the phone beside the bed rang stridently, causing them both to jump.
Tom reached for it and Cathy sat up, pushing back her hair and pulling the sheet up round her breasts, and listened to the one-sided conversation which consisted of Tom saying tersely that no, he couldn’t discuss it now, it would have to be the morning, and replacing the receiver ungently.
‘Who?’ whispered Cathy, feeling her nerves still jangling.
‘Bronwen.’ His voice was clipped and curt.
‘What’s wrong? Is she…?’ Is she all right? she’d been going to say, but something made her twist round to stare at the bedside clock which showed eleven-thirty—not that late for Tom, but… And change it to, ‘Is she in the habit of ringing you up through the night?’
‘No, Cathy, she’s not,’ he said grimly but getting up and reaching for a pair of jeans.
‘Then why?’
‘She’s nervous about tomorrow. We’re shooting the big finale when Robert comes back and first of all she kicks him out and then she relents. I thought I had her all teed up for it—heaven alone knows why I allowed myself to be so optimistic!’
Cathy lay back. ‘Where are you going?’
‘To make myself a nightcap. Would you like one? I might do some work on the script too; I doubt if I can sleep now.’
‘No, thanks,’ Cathy said slowly, but she felt a tide of anger rise up in her as he strode out of the bedroom. Yet who to blame? she wondered, as she clenched her teeth. Bronwen, or the fact that once Tom had his mind on work, everything else ran a poor second?
She didn’t wake when he came back to bed, and she also slept in as late as he did, so they had to rush to get to the studio by nine—she hadn’t expected to be needed, but he told her he wanted her there. Which became the subject of an ongoing conversation in the car.
‘Are you reshooting today as well?’ Cathy asked.
‘No.’
‘Then why…?’
‘You might just calm ’em all down,’ Tom said briefly.
Cathy shook her head. ‘I don’t know why everyone thinks I have this ability——’
‘Everyone?’ He shot the question at her without turning his head and negotiated a roundabout with a flick of the gear lever.
‘Not everyone, but Duncan virtually blackmailed me into coming back, because he said the same. But——’
‘It’s nothing very mysterious. You’re supposed to be the novice, that�
�s all, yet you’ve often shown them both up, so they might be on their mettle.’
Cathy made a distracted little sound. ‘But it was such a small part!’
‘Quality can be as hard to achieve in small doses as in large. And Cathy,’ he turned his head at last so their eyes met, ‘I need to get this movie over and done with. The longer we drag it out, the less chance we have of getting it how I want it—it’ll just sink into a mire of bloody temperament and emotion. And I might sink with it.’
Cathy opened her mouth, but closed it, and her eyes widened as she read the almost unbearable tension in his.
It was plain no one knew she was back, and she wondered why Duncan had chosen not to enlighten anyone.
Bronwen virtually did a double-take as she walked in with Tom, then she looked guilty, but Charlie was quite exuberantly delighted.
‘Doggone! as they say back home,’ he drawled with a grin almost splitting his face. ‘You’ve just made my day, li’l lady!’ He threw his arms around her and picked her up and twirled her through the air, while Tom looked on expressionlessly. ‘Ah do apologise, pardner,’ he added to Tom as he set Cathy back on her feet with a flourish and said to her less audibly, ‘Your old man has his “unhand my wife” expression on, therefore I shall desist.’
But Tom heard, although he said pleasantly enough, ‘I would if I were you, Charlie, because we’re about to have a brief conference and then we’re going to shoot the finale, come hell or high water, and we’re going to get it right.’
Bronwen groaned, they all did, but she also said normally, ‘It’s good to have you back, Cathy. It didn’t feel quite right without you.’
‘That’s what I told her,’ murmured Duncan. ‘Well, kids,’ he added with a twinkle, ‘I’m here in my usual position of referee if the going gets tough—let’s get to it!’
But as everyone turned away, Cathy noticed how his eyes lingered on Bronwen and how she half turned back towards him, then squared her shoulders and followed Tom.
But despite the conference and despite a determined start by all concerned, things didn’t go well, and it was late afternoon when Tom said abruptly, ‘Bronwen, I know you’re trying as hard as you know how, but you’re still lacking conviction—in fact, you’re trying too hard. You’re not living the part.’
Bronwen swore. ‘Then I can’t do it, Tom,’ she said tightly, and an unnatural hush fell on the set.
Tom got up from his director’s chair and walked slowly towards her. He stopped about two feet from her, staring at her. ‘Why can’t you do it?’ he said softly but with a sort of insolence that caused Cathy’s eyes to widen. ‘Don’t you know what it’s like to love and hate a man? To hate and fight the awful dependence of love, the ties you resent so much? But don’t you, of all people, know now that you can’t have one without the other—haven’t you… lived through losing out, and not just to a will-o’-the-wisp like Chloe?’
Bronwen returned his gaze, her dark eyes glittering unnaturally and her face pale beneath the paint. ‘You bastard!’ she whispered.
‘Perhaps,’ he conceded with an ironic little shrug, ‘but why lose out altogether? Acting was supposed to be your life, so why not use the experience, why not give us a glimpse of the awful turmoil Portia is going through even if her reasons are somewhat different from…your experience; why not show us the pain and loneliness she’s so afraid of—if you know it? And then the turning point, when she decides that if you can’t have everything, you make the best of what you’ve got, will have some meaning.’
As his words died away you could have heard a pin drop. Cathy didn’t realise it, but she too had gone pale at the sheer cruelty of what he was doing, the ultimate revenge he was taking, let alone her implicit involvement in it all, and she couldn’t see how Bronwen could bear it.
But Bronwen came to life after what seemed like an eternity. She visibly unclenched her jaw and said, although her eyes were incredibly bitter, ‘Why not? Are you ready?’
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT WAS midnight when they got home and Cathy was white with tiredness and tension, not sure why she hadn’t insisted on leaving earlier—but then no one had been able to tear themselves away—and not sure what name to put to her latest mental turmoil.
Because, among other things, the fact that Bronwen had finally produced a stunning performance appeared to have elated only Pete and Jason. Bronwen herself had retired immediately to her dressing-room with a set, haggard expression when Tom had finally called ‘Cut!’ and they’d not exchanged a word. Duncan had followed her, Tom had gone straight into a conference with Jason, and even Charlie had looked tired, moody and subdued and had taken himself off with little to say.
The drive home had been silent, and the first words Tom said as he closed the front door behind them were, ‘Bed, I think. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted—thank heavens it’s all over bar the shouting.’
‘Bar the shouting?’ Cathy stared at him, her eyes wide and wary.
He glanced at her. ‘The final editing, then the post-shooting publicity and parties. What did you think I meant?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said wearily.
‘What’s wrong?’
Cathy didn’t answer his rather curt question Instead she shrugged and half turned away.
But with a sudden tiger-like movement he caught her wrist and swung her back. ‘It had to be done, Cathy.’
‘Why?’ she whispered, not pretending to misunderstand, and even though she was suddenly afraid of the hard glitter in his hazel eyes. ‘In the cause of your art? Her art? Forgive me if I can’t help thinking it was only a very public bid to avenge yourself, Tom.’
His mouth hardened, then he drawled, ‘You have a short memory, my dear. You suggested it yourself.’ Cathy gasped, but he went on imperturbably, ‘And aren’t you exhibiting a curious ambivalence towards Bronwen? Only last night you were extremely suspicious of her, yet now you’re siding with her—I find that strange.’
Cathy tugged at her wrist, but he tightened his fingers on it. ‘Oh no, you don’t! I think you need to explain, Cat. You can’t have it both ways,’ he added mockingly.
She stared at him, her face pale and still, and her lips worked once, but it was a good minute before she could express herself, and then it came in a torrent of words. ‘Yes, I can, Tom. I can be suspicious of—both of you, although not because I imagine you’ve been leaping into bed with each other behind my back but because of the power of whatever it is between you… Because even if you don’t know whether you love her or hate her and vice versa, I can’t believe you’re unmoved by each other. On the other hand, I can’t help feeling sorry for her and even understanding how she feels. Because I’m in the same boat as she is, you see, Tom. You wanted to change her, didn’t you? You wanted to make a lapdog out of her just as you want to keep me that way. The only thing I haven’t worked out yet is why you’re like this. Did you have an overbearing mother who henpecked your father? Did——’
But she got no further, because with a lightning movement of his arm he pulled her wrist sharply so that she winced with pain and cannoned into him, into his arms.
His teeth gleamed white but in a frighteningly savage little smile as he said softly, ‘My sweet Cathy, what a veritable fount of wisdom you’ve become lately—but I think it’s gone to your head. My mother in fact went to her grave being a doormat for my father. What, as a matter of interest, do you make of that? Other than the obvious?’ he queried.
Cathy licked her lips. ‘Obvious?’ she echoed huskily, her eyes scared but stubborn and very blue.
‘That we Wests are male chauvinists of the highest order,’ he said sardonically.
‘Are you saying it’s just the way you’re m-made?’ she stammered.
‘Well, I’ve bared my soul to you—more or less, and you’ve guessed the rest. I can’t think of any other explanation. Can you?’
Cathy tried to speak but couldn’t.
‘On the other hand,’ Tom contin
ued, watching her mouth and her eyes and every hurt, bewildered expression that chased across them, ‘Charlie Westfield believes that’s all old hat, doesn’t he? He’s all in favour of “freeing” you. Perhaps you should try it.’
With a superhuman effort, Cathy tore herself out of his arms. ‘Why——’ her own eyes glittered now and were no longer hurt or bewildered but furious ‘—are you pushing me at Charlie Westfield, Tom? I’d really like to know, because there could also be an obvious explanation for that too, you see. With me gone there’d be space for Bronwen to come crawling back to you, wouldn’t there, for example?’
He stared at her, and suddenly his shoulders sagged and he raked a hand through his hair. He also said barely audibly, ‘It occurred to me that you might be better off with him—there’s no question of Bronwen being allowed to come crawling back.’
Cathy blinked several times. Then she whispered, ‘How can you say that? Unless…’ She stopped.
‘Cathy—’ he paused and looked deadly tired ‘—let’s go to bed, we’re not getting anywhere.’
‘We never get anywhere,’ she said bitterly. ‘It’s like a circus roundabout, and I’m on it with my hands tied to it like a puppet.’
‘That’s because, despite all your new-found wisdom, there are still some things you don’t understand—perhaps you never will,’ he said harshly. ‘Are you coming?’
Cathy put a hand to her brow, suddenly aware that she had what felt like a hammer pounding inside her head. ‘What don’t I understand?’
‘It doesn’t matter—you’ll be quite safe from me in bed,’ he murmured, and frowned. ‘Is something else wrong?’
‘… I have a headache,’ she said uncertainly.
His eyes suddenly flashed mockingly. ‘How original!’ he drawled.
She shrugged and winced.
Tom stared at her with his mouth set in a hard line, but then his eyes narrowed and he swore under his breath, then before she could do anything, he picked her up in his arms and carried her upstairs.
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