by Susan Lewis
By the time the cab pulled up outside her mews house he was so bound up in guilt and apprehension that he almost told the driver to keep going. He was crazy to come here and he knew it, since he barely trusted himself any more than he did her, but she was ringing so often now, and was starting to sound so serious and even possessive that he needed to make her understand that their relationship really was over. What was more, he needed to do it in a way that left neither of them in any doubt that he meant it.
As the cab pulled away and he turned to the door, he had to concede that allowing her to think he couldn't wait to see her had probably not been a good move, for even he was now seriously doubting his true motive for coming.
She didn't speak into the entryphone, merely buzzed to release the door, then hung up again. As he walked through her workshop he was wondering how he would handle it if she was naked when she opened the door, or dressed in such a way that she might as well be. The mere thought of it was starting to turn him on, and as he pictured it he found himself thinking, maybe one last time - a kind of goodbye. No-one would ever know, and what difference would it make when it had already happened so many times before?
The answer, he knew, was that Julia would be absolutely devastated if she knew he was here, never mind his purpose, so he must keep reminding himself of that: he'd only come because he didn't want to go on hurting and deceiving her the way he had been.
Sylvia was waiting at the door, wearing, to his relief, a silk, cream-coloured suit that was quite modest in its cut, though the shortness of the skirt showed off her bare legs to perfection, and not all the jacket buttons were fastened, but at least she was dressed.
'Hi,' she murmured, raking him with her ice- blue eyes, before lifting her mouth for a kiss.
Pressing his lips briefly to hers, he walked on into the room where her suitcase was in the middle of the floor, and a freshly opened bottle of wine was on a table in front of the window.
'I can't stay long,' he said, turning as she closed the door.
Her eyebrows went up, but she made no comment as she sauntered past him to go and pour the wine.
'Not for me,' he said, as she made to fill the second glass.
Her hand paused, but then continued to pour. 'So is there something else you would like?' she enquired, picking up her own wine and turning round to lean back against the table.
For a moment he was able to look into her eyes, but then his own moved away as he said, 'We have to talk.'
She arched her eyebrows and sipped her wine. 'Considering how much we've done of that lately, I rather thought you might be ready for something a little more . . . physical, by now.'
He swallowed hard and dug his hands into his coat pockets. 'You know what I'm saying. We have to end this.'
For several seconds she seemed to have no reaction at all, until finally she started to smile. 'Poor Josh,' she said, 'you're clearly having a dreadful struggle with your conscience again. I can't say I'm surprised, though I am a little disappointed, because I was so looking forward to our reunion. I've missed you, my darling, and I don't think you can deny that you've missed me too.'
'Sylvia, please,' he said. 'We had an agreement. As soon as one of us wanted out...'
'I do remember,' she assured him, 'but a lot's happened in the past few months, things have
changed between us, you know that as well as I do.' 'No, not for me.'
'I think it has,' she corrected. 'And I've become extremely attached to you too.'
A thud of alarm beat in his heart. 'But you know Julia means everything to me,' he said, trying to keep his voice calm. 'I've never tried to pretend otherwise, and it hasn't changed. It was only because... Well, you know why this affair started, and it was never meant to last.'
Sylvia nodded thoughtfully and took another sip of wine. 'Are you sleeping with her again?' she asked.
His eyes didn't meet hers as, wishing he could say yes, he replied, 'That's not the point. I love her, she's the only woman I want...'
Sylvia laughed softly. 'Now we both know that's not true,' she chided. 'You want me too, Joshua. Very much in fact, and look at me, I'm not resisting, am I? I'm right here, and you know you can do anything you want to me.'
His groin tightened at the words, and he could only feel glad she was unable to see it.
'You know, I'm prepared to make a lot of changes in my life for you ...'
'No?' he cut in. 'Don't. Christ, it's the last thing I want.' She regarded him sceptically. He dashed a hand through his hair and started to pace 'Look, I'm not denying it was good between us,' he said, 'or that I haven't enjoyed our times together, but it has to end, Julia ...'
Her eyes narrowed as she registered the wrong name.
'Don't read anything into that,' he told her sharply. 'Just don't.'
She took another sip of wine, watching him intently over the rim of the glass. 'Tell me why you're really here,' she said finally.
'I'm trying to,; he answered. 'I need you to understand that you have to stop calling me ...'
'But you didn't have to come here in person for that, you could have told me on the phone.'
'I've tried,' he said, 'OK, maybe not hard enough, but that's why I'm here now, to make sure you understand that we can't be in touch any more.'
Turning to put down her glass, she folded her arms across her waist, then regarded him again. 'The trouble with you, Josh,' she told him, 'is that you say one thing and mean another.'
'I mean what I'm saying.'
She was shaking her head. 'But your actions aren't bearing it out,' she said, sitting up on the table and resting her feet on a chair. 'First, you try to find a way to see me in New York, then you come straight up to London the minute you hear I'm back ... You're here now because you couldn't wait to see me ...'
Appalled by how she'd misread everything, he said, 'Sylvia, I promise, you've got totally the wrong end ...'
'Darling, it's fine by me if you don't want to admit it,' she cut in, 'I'm not going to force you - why would I, when I know the truth without having to be told? And the truth is, we both know you won't be leaving here today until you've had what you came for. So really, all this talking now is nothing more than a waste of time.'
Aware of how much ground he seemed to be losing, he said, 'Look, I swear that's not why I'm here. I came because I just didn't feel that I was getting through to you ... Oh Christ,' he groaned, as she opened her legs to show that she wore nothing under her skirt.
'Can you tell me now that it's not why you came?' she murmured.
'Sylvia, please don't do this,' he said, looking away.
'Tell me you're not hard,' she challenged.
He turned his back and put a hand to his head. He needed to leave. He had to make his feet move, and carry him to the door. And he would, as soon as he'd got the message across - it was over, she had to stop calling him, he was never coming here again - he just wished to God he knew how he was going to convince her when he was so close, so very close to turning around now and taking her straight to the stars.
'Josh,' she said softly.
He didn't reply.
Her voice lilted with amusement as she said, 'Everything's hidden now. I promise.'
Feeling foolish he turned around and wasn't entirely sure whether he was sorry or relieved to discover that she was telling the truth.
'Come here,' she said, holding out a hand.
He looked at it, knowing it would be a big mistake to take it. 'If Julia were ever to find out I was here ...' he said.
'But how is she going to find out? I won't tell her and we know you won't.' She smiled and leaned forward to take his hand. 'You see, it was
easy,' she said, as she drew him to her. 'And this,' she added, pressing a hand to his cock, 'is very hard indeed.'
His eyes closed, and as she started to rub him to his shame he did nothing to stop her. He knew he should, and he would, it just felt so good ...
She opened her legs again, and though he didn't loo
k, he didn't have to, because he could see her in his mind's eye, as ready for him as he was for her. His hand fell to his side as she let go, then he felt her unfastening his belt. Somewhere inside he was still resisting her, though nothing in him was moving. His zip went down and he knew if he didn't stop her now, then within seconds he'd be inside her. He didn't know if he could prevent it, or even if he wanted to ...
She was reaching inside his trousers, searching for the opening in his shorts, then a moan escaped him as her fingers touched him. He raised a hand, not sure what he intended to do. Would he stroke her hair, reach into her jacket for her breasts, or touch her between the legs?
Her eyes came up to his and he stared down at her, watching her lips curve in a slow, triumphant smile. She knew she had him, that any second now she'd free his cock completely and he'd be plunging deep inside her, making a total mockery of everything he'd said. He touched her face, and felt her fingers wrapping around him. He continued to gaze into her eyes, then as she started to free him he lowered his hand and clamped it hard around her wrist.
Their eyes remained locked. He knew she was waiting for him to pull her hand away, and he
would . . . He meant to, but seconds were ticking by...
She started to smile again, but as she tightened her grip on his penis, so he tightened his on her wrist.
Then suddenly his mobile started to ring, and without even considering who it might be, he grabbed it from his pocket and clicked on.
'Josh Thayne,' he barked, turning abruptly away.
'All sorted,' a voice at the other end announced. It was the editor he'd spoken to earlier. 'Big mistake on my part, I talked about another author while we were having lunch. After all these years, I should have known better.'
'As long as it's all straightened out now,' Josh said, refastening his trousers.
'Plenty of ego-massaging did the trick. You know what these authors are like. I'll look forward to receiving the signed contract.'
After ringing off, Josh turned back to Sylvia, his eyes hard with contempt - though much more for himself than for her. 'I have to go,' he said roughly. 'I'm sorry if you've misread some of the things I've said, or done. I hold myself entirely responsible, because I was a fool ever to get into this. That isn't meant to hurt you, or to try and claim that I wasn't willing, because I was, and maybe, if things had been different, we could find out where this might lead. But it can't happen. I'm a happily married man. I love my wife and my children, and nothing in the world is ever going to make me give them up. So please understand that it's over between us now. I won't be
coming here again, nor can I take any more of your calls.'
As he turned and walked to the door he could feel her eyes burning into him, but not until he'd reached the door did she say, 'The only person you're fooling is yourself.'
He kept on going. It made no difference what she thought, she was out of his life now, and there wasn't even any point in tormenting himself over how far he might have gone had the phone not rung, because it hadn't happened, and that was all that mattered.
Not until he was back at the office did he answer his mobile again. Seeing it was Shannon he immediately clicked on, wanting very much to submerge himself in his family as though it could in some way cleanse him of the past hour. 'Hi darling,' he said, shrugging off his coat and returning to his desk. 'How's it going down there?'
'Everything's cool,' she answered chirpily. 'We just buried the ashes. Mum let me go with her, and now she wishes she hadn't, because you'll never guess what, Dad, we had this really terrible fit of the giggles. We just couldn't stop, because the undertaker turned up with this little miniature coffin under his arm, like Granddad was now some sort of Mini-Me, you know, like from Austin Powers ... I swear I wasn't the first one to laugh, it was Mum. She let out this really terrible snort. Then Fen started, and her brother ... Mum said it was exactly the sort of thing Granddad would have laughed at too, if he'd been there, which he was, I suppose .. . Stop it, Mum. She's still laughing, Dad, and she's the one who's saying we
have to go back and try to be a bit more respectful tomorrow, but if you could see her now ... I think she's going a bit hysterical, actually.'
Josh was smiling, for he knew the black side of Julia's humour only too well, and as he pictured the scene down there, he wished with all his soul that he could be with them.
'Shall I put her on?' Shannon asked.
'No, tell her I'll call in an hour,' he said, 'I've only just got back to the office and there's a stack of messages waiting.'
'OK, you probably won't get any sense out of her anyway, I know I can't.'
He was about to ring off when suddenly he changed his mind and said, 'Shannon?'
'Yes?'
'Tell her I love her.'
'Oh gross!' Shannon blurted. 'I can't say that. You're my parents, for God's sake.'
He laughed. 'All right, then put her on.'
'I would, but she's just gone into the bathroom to try and pull herself together.'
Still smiling he said, 'OK, it can wait,' and after ringing off he put the phone aside and sat down in front of a small pile of contracts to start checking them over. It was a while before they had his full attention though, because he was still thinking about Julia, and how much he wanted to tell her that it was over with Sylvia now. But he knew he couldn't, because it would mean admitting Sylvia was back in London, and that he'd been over there. So dismissing it, he turned his thoughts instead to the hope that Julia would find something soon to help her overcome whatever ghosts she needed
to overcome. He felt certain that once she did, they'd be able to return to the kind of intimacy they'd always shared, the only intimacy he'd ever really wanted, and once they did he knew that any lingering desire he might have for Sylvia would simply cease to exist.
Chapter Thirteen
The truth is finally out. Life can never be the same now. Afraid I will lose everything.
Julia was seated at the kitchen table, staring down at the entry in an old pocket diary she'd found in the attic. The year was 1980, the date was 24th June, three weeks before her father had left.
She read the words again, her heart thudding, her thoughts racing in too many directions. What truth? And why would it mean he'd lose everything?
Recoiling from the first answers, she quickly flipped over the page, but there was no more until 10th September, when he'd written, they still wont let me have any contact with her. And on 23rd September, The need is growing stronger instead of weaker. God, help me, I want them to die.
A horrible, suffocating feeling was coming over her, as she considered the possible meanings of what she was reading. Had he asked to be in touch with her, and 'they' - her mother and uncle - had
refused? And what was the need that was growing so strong? Please God don't let it be that, please, though what else could it be? And who did he want to die? Again, her mother and uncle?
The rest of the diary was empty, no more entries to throw light on those she'd read, and nothing to direct her to any kind of answers. Putting it down, she stared out through the open kitchen door to where a couple of robins were pecking about in the leaf-covered grass. The world was splashed in autumn sunlight, yet seemed oddly out of kilter now, as though it had taken a step back, pausing a moment to keep watch from a distance as she struggled between denial and dread. But no matter what was going on inside her, how horrific her thoughts, or intense the effort to stir her own memories, she just couldn't make herself connect the monster she was imagining with the father she remembered and loved.
She picked up the diary again and checked to make sure she'd missed nothing, but the only entries were those she'd read. So all she had to go on was her own instinct and guesswork, neither of which was helped by adding the conundrum of the uncashed cheques. Had they been to finance the start of a new life? Payment to stay away from his children? Or blackmail? I'll do as you want and stay away, but you have to pay me to. To her mind it couldn't have
sounded less like her father, and the fact that he'd never used the money ...
Reaching for the tatty shoebox she'd carried down from the attic, she rummaged through again and found a diary for the following year. 1981.
Again not many entries, and most turned out to be utterly prosaic.
8th February Started new job.
12th February spent day in library
16th April changed job
17th April take away this murdherin' hate, an' give us thine own eternal love!
This was clearly a quote, but she had no idea what from, though it was almost certainly a desire to die.
29th April I miss her so much. Does she miss me? What have they told her?
She stopped there and read the entry again. There was no mention of her name, but she felt certain he was writing about her.
Then ...
15th July One year has passed since I last saw her. They won't even let me write to her. Maybe it's best for her if I don't.
10th August They told me to forget she exists. It's what I have to do. My precious girl . . . Julia, my Julia ...
As her heart turned over in the echo of his pain, she stared down at her name and watched it become blurred by tears. This last entry had been made on her seventeenth birthday; the previous one marked the anniversary of the day he'd left. She read the words over and over until her heart was so full she could take no more. So he had loved her, there had been no pretence, despite what her mother had said, and only now did she realise just how terrified she'd been that it would all turn out to be false. But it wasn't, because in his own words he was telling her that he'd missed
