Strange Allure

by Susan Lewis

  Davey was bemused. ‘What?’ he grunted. ‘Isn’t it the same thing, just a different way of saying it?’

  Both Carla and Chrissie burst out laughing, which seemed to confuse poor Davey all the more.

  Still chuckling, Carla began reading through her email and typing in quick responses. ‘When did you say you’re going to Zanzibar?’ she asked Chrissie.

  ‘Next Tuesday. How long’s Richard in the country for this time?’

  ‘Don’t ask. At this rate I’ll be moving into our new flat on my own.’

  ‘I’d offer to help,’ Davey assured her, ‘but I’m taking Sherry to Brighton that weekend. When is it, again?’

  ‘You’re outrageous,’ Carla laughed, throwing a pen at him. ‘Has my solicitor called, by the way?’

  ‘Oh yes, she did. Last night, after you’d gone. Said you might be able to exchange a week earlier than scheduled. And the bank called to say that they need your signature on something, so can you go over there. They need Richard’s too.’

  Carla checked her watch. ‘He’s probably still asleep,’ she said. ‘I think it was a pretty rough trip this time.’

  ‘Is he ever going to give it up?’ Chrissie asked.

  ‘What do you think? The man’s addicted to danger.’

  ‘And you’re addicted to him.’

  Carla didn’t deny it. Of all people, Chrissie knew how close she and Richard were.

  ‘So what are you planning to do while he’s here?’ Chrissie said.

  ‘We’ll probably go down to the country for a couple of days, see my mother and brother and his family. Spend some time just the two of us.’

  Chrissie was only half listening, as she went on with her work.

  ‘How’s it going with Bob?’ Carla asked. ‘Any news?’

  Chrissie shook her head. ‘He’s not going to call. He never does. It’s always me who ends up calling him.’

  ‘You don’t have to,’ Carla reminded her. ‘In fact, he’s such a pig I wish you wouldn’t.’

  ‘It’s all right for you, not yet thirty with your whole life ahead of you,’ Chrissie retorted. ‘In my case, I’m going to be forty next month and there isn’t exactly an abundance of available men out there, especially not ones as perfect as Richard.’

  ‘There’s always me,’ Davey chimed in.

  ‘Well, you can’t seriously think the Bob thing’s going anywhere,’ Carla said bluntly, ‘so I don’t know why you’re wasting your time. Damn it, you’re a beautiful woman, Chrissie. Absolutely stunning, in fact, with more personality than anyone I know, so why can’t you just call it a day with that slimeball and give someone else a chance?’

  ‘Let’s get off the subject,’ Chrissie replied, a deep flush spreading over the softness of her cheeks. ‘I’m going over to the library to see what more I can dig up on Zanzibar.’

  After she’d gone Carla regretted being so harsh, though she knew that it was the only way to get through to Chrissie – at least where men were concerned. It was astonishing really, that a woman like Chrissie, who had so much going for her in so many ways, had such disastrously poor taste in men. She just never seemed to get it right, and this Bob character, a photographer from her modelling days, who’d exhumed himself from her past a couple of years ago, was about as disastrous they came. He smoked pot all day, regularly forgot their dates, slept around all over the place, and behaved like he was the greatest gift to womankind, when what he was, in fact, was an abomination to mankind. Carla loathed him, mainly because she was afraid he might entice Chrissie back into the drug scene, for Chrissie’s resolve wasn’t always as tough as it appeared. With her concern about her age and becoming too old to have children, she was easy prey to any kind of temptation that might make the pain go away.

  Around midday, after losing her temper with her contact at the BBC for his pathetic procrastination, Carla called Richard. She’d probably just blown every chance they’d ever had of getting the series transmitted now, but God damn the man, didn’t he realize that people had invested good money – not to mention trust – in this series? And what the hell good was it to him, sitting around on a bloody shelf gathering dust? He was never going to make his money back that way. And the season for travel programmes was going to be over before much longer, so if they didn’t get it on the air now they’d have to wait another year, by which time all the hotel rates, air fares, and God knew what else they’d quoted, were going to be out of date. And exactly where that left the prospect of a second series was anyone’s guess.

  Damn the man! Damn! Damn! Damn!

  And damn Richard too, for not answering the phone – though it was hardly his fault that she’d just lost it with one of the most powerful men in British television. He was probably still asleep, and being as exhausted as he was might not relish her offloading on him so soon after extricating himself from one of the world’s more serious problems. So she left a message for him to get himself over to the bank sometime today, and to let her know if he wanted to eat in or out this evening.

  At one o’clock she went to meet a couple of friends for lunch at Mezza, leaving Chrissie a note to remind her that she was supposed to be there too. Several attempts to call Chrissie on her mobile had met with no response, mainly because, as Davey had pointed out, it was lying dead on her desk. Which was much the same state as Carla was going to be in, when Chrissie found out what Carla had just called their contact at the BBC.

  ‘But he deserved it,’ Carla explained to Jilly and Rosa over a much-needed glass of Pinot Grigio. ‘He’s been messing me about and putting me off for months now, and thanks to him it’s looking very much as though we’re going to miss the boat. Which means all the blood, sweat and tears of the past year and a half have been for nothing, and we can kiss goodbye to any future programmes and start looking for new jobs.’

  Rosa Gingell, a thirty-something actress who looked like Ruby Wax on a bad day, made a suggestion. ‘You should send Chrissie over there to speak to him personally. Men usually turn to jelly when faced with her. Men like that, anyway.’

  ‘Already tried it,’ Carla answered, looking across the crowded restaurant to see if there was any sign of Chrissie yet. ‘It almost worked, he gave us a tentative date, then bottled out over the phone. I wonder where she is? Do you think we should go ahead and order? I’m starving.’

  Jilly, another actress, who was almost famous for her appearance in a series of low-fat butter commercials, was starving too. ‘I swear doing these diet ads is going to be the death of me,’ she complained. ‘I’m getting so I’m actually afraid to eat. Of course, if I was blessed with Chrissie’s figure and didn’t have to work at it, the way she never does, I could eat anything I wanted. But a girl’s got to work, and God forbid I should be the other half of the commercial, the half with the cottage-cheese thighs.’

  Rosa said, ‘Where did you say Chrissie was? At the library?’

  Carla nodded. ‘She’s off to Zanzibar next Tuesday, researching for the new series. She claims that going through rehab taught her how to think positively, and all I can say is she must have been a star pupil, because she’s determined to go, despite the fact we’ve got no idea if the programme will ever get made.’

  ‘I wonder sometimes if she doesn’t try too hard,’ Rosa commented.

  Carla frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  Rosa shrugged. ‘Just that. She seems to overdo it a bit sometimes, and it ends up looking like a front, something that’s not quite real.’

  ‘Oh, I think it is,’ Carla corrected. ‘In fact, one of the most wonderful and amazing things about Chrissie is that despite how badly she’s been treated by so many people in her life, she’s just about the most genuine person I know, and she’d almost rather die than ever hurt anyone herself.’ The last was a deliberate effort to stop Rosa’s bitchiness going any further, but it obviously hadn’t worked, for Rosa said, ‘If you ask me, she’s too generous and kind-hearted for her own good. And she still gets really bad depressions, doesn’t she? I
mean, now and again?’

  ‘Occasionally,’ Carla conceded. ‘But she’s got it under control.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Jilly said, ‘because I’d hate to think of her suffering again, the way she did before.’ She paused, awkwardly, then went on, ‘You know, I hate to say it, but whenever I’ve seen her lately she has seemed a bit low. Does she seem that way to you?’

  ‘No,’ Carla answered, feeling guilty that she might not have noticed.

  ‘I’ve noticed it too,’ Rosa chipped in. ‘I was with her the night before last, at Susie and Patrick’s. She definitely wasn’t herself then. She hardly said a word all night.’

  Carla was feeling worse than ever. ‘She seems all right to me,’ she said lamely. ‘I mean, probably this transmission business is getting her down, but …’

  Rosa continued, ‘You know, I thought it must be Bob up to his old tricks, but I saw him a few days ago and he said he’s been trying to get hold of her for weeks, but she’s not returning his calls.’

  Carla was confused. ‘She’s not? But I thought … We were just talking about him this morning, she made it sound as though …’

  ‘If you ask me, it’s the big four-oh,’ Jilly said decisively. ‘She’s always been scared of getting old. And who can blame her? Can’t say I’m looking forward to it myself, though I’ve still got a few years to go.’

  ‘Yes, well, let’s just hope that’s all it is,’ Rosa said, in such a dark tone that the others looked at her in surprise.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Carla demanded, trying not to be annoyed.

  ‘Well, there’s always a chance she might be, you know, ill.’

  Carla’s face paled. ‘What on earth makes you say that?’

  ‘Well, it happens, doesn’t it? Women do get sick, especially at her age. I mean, you’ve only got to look at the breast-cancer rate.’

  ‘Oh Rosa!’ Jilly snapped. ‘You’re always so hung up on people getting ill. If there was anything seriously wrong with Chrissie, especially something like that, then you can rest assured Carla would know.’

  ‘How? If she didn’t tell her?’

  ‘I just would,’ Carla replied hotly. ‘I see her every day, for God’s sake. She wouldn’t be able to hide something like that.’

  ‘I’d say breast-cancer was pretty easy to hide,’ Rosa retorted. ‘I mean you can’t exactly see it, can you?’

  ‘Don’t be obtuse,’ Jilly chided. ‘Carla’s right, she would know if there was anything seriously wrong, even if Chrissie didn’t tell her, because she’d be sure to notice when Chrissie’s hair started dropping out, which it would if she had cancer and they gave her chemo. Or is it radiation that makes your hair fall out? Whichever, cancer’s not something you can keep to yourself, and knowing Chrissie the way I do, well, I’m not saying she’d go round broadcasting it, but she’d definitely tell one of us. No, you mark my words, it’s the big four-oh that’s getting her down, and the fact that she so desperately wants to have kids.’

  Eager to think it was nothing more than that, Carla solemnly picked up her glass, and silently berated Rosa for planting sinister suggestions. In fact, she should know better than to respond, for it was just like Rosa to create doubts and problems where none existed, which was the reason Chrissie had always resisted casting her in There and Beyond.

  ‘My God! What’s wrong with you lot? Did somebody die?’

  ‘Chrissie!’ Carla cried, spilling her wine. ‘Are you all right? I was starting to wonder if you’d been hit by a bus.’

  ‘I got engrossed,’ Chrissie answered, pulling up a chair. ‘Honestly, Zanzibar is just perfect for us. It’s so fascinating, you’re going to love it. I brought a stack of books back with me, and left them on your desk. I’ll have a glass of whatever they’re drinking,’ she said to the waitress.

  Carla was looking at her closely, and was relieved to see that she seemed anything but ill.

  Evidently Jilly was in agreement. ‘You look fantastic,’ she told her. ‘Have you discovered some secret elixir?’

  ‘She always looks fantastic,’ Rosa warmly concurred.

  Carla blinked. This was bizarre, considering the conversation they’d been having a minute ago. ‘Are you going to eat?’ she asked, passing Chrissie a menu.

  ‘No, I grabbed a sandwich on the way back from the library and I’d already eaten it by the time I found your note reminding me about lunch. Incidentally, Richard called while I was in the office to say he can’t make dinner tonight, he’s got a meeting with someone at The Times.’

  ‘Oh bloody hell,’ Carla said crossly.

  ‘Don’t shoot the messenger,’ Chrissie responded, holding up her hands. ‘He said you can get him on his mobile if you need to speak to him. So, Rosa, what’s new with Emmerdale, did you get the part?’

  ‘Still haven’t heard,’ Rosa answered. ‘My agent’s away and his assistant’s bloody useless.’

  As they launched off into the usual round of actor talk Carla sat quietly listening, while still wondering if Rosa’s ghastly suggestion that Chrissie was ill might actually be true. Certainly Chrissie didn’t look it, but that wasn’t necessarily anything to go by, and the fact that Chrissie seemed exactly the same to her as she always did could mean that Chrissie was trying harder with her to hide it. But no, it didn’t make any sense. They’d never hidden anything from each other before, and as Chrissie had no close family to speak of, it was always Carla she turned to in times of crisis.

  So, discarding the horrible idea of Chrissie’s imminent demise, she rejoined the conversation, which had just returned to Chrissie’s upcoming trip to Zanzibar.

  ‘Are you going to be able to see this chap at Channel Four before you go?’ Carla asked.

  ‘What have you got going with Channel Four?’ Rosa bristled, always on the lookout for a part.

  ‘Nothing more than a prayer at the moment,’ Chrissie answered. ‘Though we do have some money in the kitty towards the next series, which means …’

  ‘Enough for about half a programme,’ Carla interrupted. ‘No use to man nor beast.’

  Chrissie’s smile faded. ‘Are you saying I shouldn’t go to Zanzibar?’

  ‘I’m saying that it could be a waste of money,’ Carla responded.

  ‘So what, we just give up?’

  ‘No, of course not. We should just be concentrating our efforts on getting the first series on air. Then we can talk about Zanzibar.’

  ‘They’re giving me a free flight,’ Chrissie reminded her sharply. ‘And you said yourself, it’ll make a fantastic programme, so let’s at least get it researched.’

  Carla shrugged. ‘OK. If that’s what you want.’

  Chrissie’s eyes were still harsh.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Carla laughed. ‘I said OK.’

  Chrissie relaxed, as a more familiar light returned to her limpid blue eyes.

  The subject changed again then, and Carla only fleetingly wondered what Chrissie might have done if she’d really put up a fight about her going to Zanzibar. It seemed Chrissie was pretty determined to go, even though she had to know it would make more sense to wait. However, they rarely fought over anything, and since it really was a great location, Carla had no intention of using her executive-producer’s power of veto, if she even had such a thing.

  Chapter 2

  BY THE TIME Carla and Chrissie left the office that evening the rain was bouncing so high off the pavements they were obviously going to get drenched.

  ‘God, will you just look at it,’ Chrissie grumbled, putting up her umbrella and standing aside for a raincoated punter to squeeze past into the dance club.

  They stood in the doorway, staring dismally out at the solid, honking mass of traffic and madly scurrying commuters. After a while Davey came down to join them and stood there too.

  ‘So,’ Carla said finally. ‘Who’s the lucky girl tonight, Davey?’

  ‘It’s Sherry again,’ he answered, already sounding depleted. ‘The girl’s insatiable. Problem i
s, I’m just too damned good.’

  Chrissie grinned. ‘Do you ever think of saying no?’ she suggested.

  ‘Wouldn’t be polite, would it?’ he retorted, and, hunching his shoulders, he took off down the shiny wet street towards Shaftesbury Avenue.

  Laughing, Chrissie said, ‘Where are you going now?’

  ‘Over to the new flat to measure up,’ Carla answered. ‘Want to come?’

  Chrissie shook her head. ‘Can’t. I’m going out for dinner.’ They stood a couple of moments longer, until Chrissie said, ‘So, are we going to stand in this doorway all night?’

  ‘Rosa saw Bob,’ Carla suddenly blurted. ‘He said you weren’t returning his calls.’

  ‘What?’ Chrissie cried with a laugh. ‘Well, that’s rich, coming from him. The bastard hasn’t rung me in at least a month. When did he tell her that?’

  ‘Last week, I think.’

  ‘The man’s got a short memory, is all I can say. Now, I’m about to brave this rain. Are you coming?’

  ‘Just a minute,’ Carla said, taking hold of her arm and stopping her. ‘I want to ask you something.’

  Chrissie looked startled, then, Carla thought, almost defensive. For some reason it made her nervous. ‘If there was anything wrong,’ she said softly, ‘I mean, you know, if you … Well, you’re OK, are you?’

  Chrissie’s eyes showed her confusion. ‘Of course I’m OK. Why do you think I wouldn’t be?’

  Carla shrugged. ‘It was just that Jilly and Rosa thought you’d seemed a bit down lately, and well, maybe sometimes I get so preoccupied with Richard, you know, worrying about him and everything, that … You’d tell me, wouldn’t you, if there was anything wrong?’

  ‘Of course,’ Chrissie said, squeezing her hand. ‘You’re my closest friend. Who else would I turn to? But there’s nothing wrong, I swear.’ She smiled, reassuringly. ‘Absolutely nothing.’

  ‘So,’ Carla said, when ten minutes later they descended into the Underground station, shaking out their umbrellas, while trying to dodge other people’s, ‘who are you having dinner with?’

  ‘Oh! Uh, my cousin Elaine and her husband. I think we’re going to the Ivy. Why don’t you join us if Richard’s going to be late?’