Strange Allure

by Susan Lewis

  Pulling out a chair, Richard sat her on his lap and held her tight. ‘Ssssh,’ he soothed. ‘Ssssh. I’m here. It’s OK. Nothing’s going to hurt you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.’

  Still she couldn’t speak, as her whole body shook and shuddered in the aftermath of hysteria. Though she clung to him, and he held her too, she knew he wanted only to get away, to be as far from her and her unwashed clothes and dirty body as possible. There was no crisis in India. He’d made it up, so that he could get away from her and that screaming monster upstairs that she just wanted to pummel and punch and stifle and strangle.

  ‘Oh God, Richard,’ she sobbed. ‘I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m so afraid. I just … I just …’ But there was no way she could make herself utter the words she was thinking, for no woman in her right mind would ever think such evil thoughts about her own child.

  ‘Listen,’ he said, tilting her chin up so he could look into her face. He smiled tenderly at the devastation her outburst had caused. ‘If you really don’t want me to go …’

  ‘I don’t,’ she cried. ‘Oh God, I really don’t. I know it’s selfish, and that you should go really, but I’m so afraid without you, and I know we need the money, but I was thinking, you said you were offered that advance to write a book? Well, couldn’t you take that and then you could stay home and write it, and you wouldn’t have to go to India and …’

  He put a finger over her lips. ‘I’m hearing you,’ he said softly.

  She gazed at him with wide, apprehensive eyes.

  ‘Is that what you want?’ he said.

  She nodded.

  ‘OK. Then that’s what I’ll do.’

  For a moment she wasn’t sure she’d heard right, then she could barely catch her breath on the sudden rush of relief. ‘Oh God, Richard,’ she gasped, throwing her arms round his neck. ‘I love you so much. And I swear I’ll get some help. I’ll go to see a doctor, and we can get someone in to help with the baby. And I won’t interrupt while you’re working. I’ll find some decorators, and I’ll call my agent so that I can help out. Oh darling, I love you so much.’

  Smiling, he smoothed her hair and said, ‘I love you too.’

  ‘Are you sure you don’t mind about India?’

  ‘I mind much more about you. And if me not going to India will make you feel better, then I’m not going to India. But I do want a promise from you that you will see a doctor, and that you will start looking for a nanny.’

  ‘I promise. I swear. Cross my heart. Oh Richard!’ Her breath ran out again, then her hands were flying about her face as she gasped, ‘Oh God, I look so awful, how could you want to stay with me? But I’ll lose weight, I swear and I’ll join a gym, and I’ll …’

  ‘Enough,’ he laughed, squeezing her. ‘Now, I think one of us should go and see what’s bothering our daughter, don’t you?’

  The light dimmed in her eyes.

  ‘I’ll go,’ he said, picking up one of the bottles. ‘You can stay here and make us a cup of tea.’

  ‘Shall I get the rope?’ she giggled as he reached the door.

  There was a moment’s pause before he turned back and said, ‘No. Not right now.’

  Her bottom lip came out, but he left, and then she was once again overcome by a huge onslaught of relief, and amazement, that she’d actually found the courage to ask him to stay. And he had agreed! In the end it had been so easy. And not even Carla had managed to get this far, so maybe he did love her more than Carla.

  It was only a matter of seconds before the horrible fear that he might end up resenting her began blazing a trail through her triumph – and with such certainty that it left no doubt in its wake. In fact it had probably already started, because he had just turned down sex. Richard never turned down sex. He loved sex, so the only reason he’d passed up the chance was because he was really pissed off about having to stay, and so angry with her for making him that it had killed all the desire he had for her and left him despising her.

  But for the baby’s sake she had to keep him here. So what was she to do? Maybe a glass of wine would help. But no, he didn’t like her to drink, and she’d already had two glasses today. Had he smelt it on her? Was that why he was insisting she see a doctor? He thought she was a drunk. But two glasses wasn’t much, and in her heart she knew that what he was really worried about was how hard she was finding it to cope with Ryan. So she’d do what he said and get a nanny. The thought of someone else in the house made her instantly nervous, but if she got an older woman, someone he’d never look at twice in that way, it should be all right. And if she prepared a special dinner for him tonight, and cleaned herself up a bit, he might discover that he did still find her attractive after all.

  She became so engrossed in her cookbooks and painstaking efforts to adhere to a complicated recipe for stroganoff that it was a long time before she realized it had turned completely dark outside, and that the house had been silent for some time. She glanced at the clock. Two hours must have gone by since Richard went upstairs, and it was ages since she’d last heard Ryan scream. Maybe she should go and check on them. It was safe to go near the baby when he was there. Nothing bad would happen then.

  The kitchen was in the basement, so she had three flights of stairs to climb to get to the cosy little pink and white bedroom that belonged to Ryan. But she had only got as far as the ground floor when she looked up to see Richard coming down the stairs.

  ‘Are you OK?’ she said. ‘I was just coming to look for you.’

  ‘She’s asleep,’ he answered, ‘and I have to confess I dropped off with her. So what have you got cooking? Smells good.’

  Her eyes were playful. ‘It’s a surprise,’ she told him.

  He glanced at his watch. ‘How long have I got before we eat?’

  ‘Um, about half an hour. I thought I’d take a shower now, and …’

  ‘OK. I’ll just make a couple of calls and check on my email, then I’ll open one of the bottles of Puligny that we had at the wedding.’

  Though he was offering to open one of the special bottles of wine, which possibly meant that he considered this evening to be worthy of marking, what with all the new decisions and promises and plans they had talked about, her answering smile was still shaky, for she guessed that one of the calls he’d be making would be to cancel his trip to India. She wished she knew the right words to say, but none seemed appropriate, so she tried to look contrite and agreeable and full of understanding and appreciation as he left her at the foot of the stairs and walked into his study. He closed the door quietly behind him, and, not wanting to overhear the excuse he gave the NBC editor who’d called him with the assignment, she took herself off to shower alone. And maybe, since she wasn’t screaming for once, she’d take a peek at the baby too.

  *

  Carla was in her old stone kitchen, with Eddie at her feet, and a fabulous new look gazing back at her from the mirror. She loved what the French stylist had done to her hair, cutting it and reshaping it into a scrunchy sort of bob, and the creams and lotions Avril had insisted on lavishing upon her had definitely perked up her skin, which had undeniably lost lustre this past year. Now it was glowing, and as she watched her lightly frosted lips curve with pleasure, she remembered how uplifting it was to look this good. In fact the world was starting to feel like a conquerable place, and her wonderfully slimmed-down thighs in their new Versace jeans, that Avril had bought in one of the staggeringly expensive boutiques of Monte Carlo, were just such a treat to behold that she couldn’t stop admiring them.

  Naturally she had every intention of paying Avril back, which Avril was making a pretence of believing, but for the moment Carla had to swallow her pride and accept that her friend was right, looking the part was often the most important part of creating the right impression. And impressions were everything when it came to persuading someone that the right place for their money was in your pocket.

  During the two days in Monaco, and all the way back on the plane, they’
d discussed little else besides the programme and its goals. Avril’s energy was boundless, and her talent for inspiring was second to none. She’d now roared off back to London in the Porsche to start hitting on all her contacts for the favours she needed, leaving Carla’s head spinning with ideas, and her hopes brimming over with the belief that the programme really was going to work.

  Turning away from the mirror, she went to put on the kettle, possibilities for all kinds of new programmes tripping over themselves in her head. Though she was longing to get to work on them, she had to accept that for the time being at least they’d have to stay where they were, since nothing about the second series had been firmed up yet, nor would it be until she had funding. Oh please God, please, please, please, let it happen.

  When the tea was made she found a few more tasks to do in the kitchen, then she remembered there were things she needed to sort out upstairs, after which she called Sonya to thank her again for looking after Eddie, then she toyed with the idea of ringing Graham to let him know she was back and available for a drink tonight. But that had to wait, because when she and Avril had driven past his house on their way into the village she’d noticed Detective Inspector Fellowes’s white Toyota parked on the gravel outside. The detective was a regular visitor to the rectory, assisting Graham with his research and providing vital inspiration for stories. No doubt the two were deeply ensconced in the mapping out of some dastardly plot, so the last thing Graham would welcome was a ‘guess where I’ve been?’ call from her. She’d leave it until after six, and try him then.

  In the meantime she’d run short of excuses to keep her out of the office. Ridiculous really, that she’d got herself into such a state of nerves about playing back whatever messages there might be on her machine. But while they remained there, and she remained here, she could continue clinging to the hope that one of them might be from Richard. Actually, she didn’t really expect any of them to be, but that wasn’t going to prevent the crushing disappointment when she found out that none were. Of course there would still be the email, so all hope needn’t be lost, it was just that she would so dearly, dearly love to hear his voice.

  There was nothing on either the answerphone or the email.

  For one horrible moment she thought she was going to cry, until she reminded herself that, really, it was her turn to contact him, since she hadn’t yet replied to that bizarre quote from the Philosophical Dictionary. And actually, she did have some idea of what it might be about, though wasn’t sure she had the courage to admit it, just in case she was wrong. But if she was right then it could only mean that his feelings for her hadn’t changed, and he’d made a terrible mistake in going off with Chrissie.

  Oh God, what were they going to do?

  But the only real question right now was what was she going to do?

  Send an email, of course.

  Saying?

  ‘I’d like a straight answer to my question, did my mother know about you and Chrissie?’

  Or: ‘Are you completely insane? Why the hell do you think I’d want to be godmother to any child of yours and Chrissie’s?’ Oh God, the awful feelings that stirred up inside her whenever she thought of him holding and loving a baby that wasn’t hers …

  But what if he was suffering as much as she was? What if he was trying to find his way back? It was going to be so hard, and maybe he needed her to give him the answers. Or at least to let him know that she wanted it too. But she couldn’t risk it. Not yet. She had to be sure that she was reading this correctly, before she even thought about exposing herself that way.

  So in the end she typed a message saying only, ‘Richard, tell me what you really want,’ and clicked on the send box.

  As she sat back her heart was beating fast, as though she had performed some amazing physical task, rather than the more minimal feat of pressing a button. Then the phone suddenly rang and she almost leapt out of her skin. Was it possible for an email to get there that fast? She felt suddenly strange and disoriented. She hadn’t spoken to him in over a year … Was she going to have to speak to him now, with no time to think?

  Gingerly she lifted the receiver and put it to her ear. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Ah, good, you’re back,’ Graham’s voice said. ‘I saw a light on down there and hoped it wasn’t anything sinister.’

  A vying mix of disappointment and relief rushed through her. ‘No, just me,’ she responded, rallying swiftly. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Fine. How was Monte Carlo?’

  ‘You know!’ she cried. ‘Who told you?’

  He was laughing. ‘You should know by now that you can’t keep anything a secret in this village. So did you have a good time with your friend Avril?’

  Carla had to laugh, for obviously Faith had been delivering more than the mail again. ‘We had a wonderful time,’ she said. ‘It was just what I needed to boost up my energy before all the hard work begins. Are you free for a drink this evening?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Then his tone seemed to sober a little as he said, ‘I’ve some news for you that you might find, well, interesting.’

  Carla’s heart jolted. Was it something to do with Richard? Why did everything have to be to do with Richard? ‘I want to give Eddie a bit of a run,’ she said, ‘then I need to shower after the journey back. So I’ll meet you at seven?’

  ‘Sounds good,’ he replied, and rang off.

  It was almost dark by the time Carla finally got out of the door with Eddie, having been caught up on the phone with Avril for ages, then with all the calls that had resulted from that one. There was no doubt Avril was a powerhouse when it came to getting things moving – she’d even written the spiel Carla should deliver when she spoke to all the contacts she was giving her, like TV reviewers, travel-magazine chiefs, newspaper columnists, chat-show researchers, and a whole host of others who were in a position to promote her programme. Avril already had a meeting lined up the next day over at Channel 4 to get the low-down on what kind of promotion they were planning, and though she didn’t need Carla to be there, she did need her to fax over whatever material she had on each individual show.

  ‘Everyone’s asking about Chrissie,’ she warned. ‘She’s the celeb, she’s the show’s front person, so she’s the one they want to talk to.’

  Carla’s voice was stony. ‘Out of the question.’

  ‘We’re way too late for the glossies,’ Avril continued, ‘but I think I can get some ad space in some of the weeklies, probably feature space too. But again, Chrissie’s going to be the one they want.’

  ‘How do we get round it?’ Carla demanded.

  ‘With difficulty, but I’m working on it. I’m also looking into renting an apartment so’s we’ve both got somewhere to stay in London when we need it. I’ve told the agent to find one with a garden so Eddie’s got some space too.’

  Carla smiled. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘He’ll like that.’

  ‘Any emails?’

  It was a moment before Carla realized she was meaning for her. ‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘Do you want me to read them out?’

  ‘OK. My laptop should’ve turned up by now. I told them to FedEx it. Is it there?’

  ‘I haven’t seen it. Or, wait a minute, there’s a card here telling us to call so they can redeliver. I’ll do that tomorrow.’

  After she read out the half-dozen or so messages that had come through for Avril, she made the calls that Avril had insisted couldn’t wait, then went quickly back online just to see if there was any response yet from Richard. There wasn’t, so she rooted out Eddie’s lead from his overnight bag to take him out before it got dark.

  She’d more or less failed in the last, as the sun had already gone down and only the final milky glow of daylight was lingering over the fields as she and Eddie headed off down the lane that led into the woods. She wouldn’t go far, it was too spooky in the dark, and besides, after two days in the warmth of Monte Carlo, she was feeling the cold. One of the alternative shorter routes was along by the stream where
her mother had died, but Eddie always got so distressed when they went that way, and she had to confess she didn’t like it much either.

  In the end, she turned them back onto the path that made a loose, rambling circle around the outskirts of the village. This wasn’t a walk she took often, probably because of how close the path sometimes veered towards the backs of the cottages. She’d never stopped to wonder why that should be a problem, though tonight for some reason she did, and to her surprise she realized that it was because she’d wanted to keep a distance, both mentally and physically, from her neighbours. Of course she knew them all, and was never less than friendly when she saw them, but apart from Graham, she had avoided anything more than the most perfunctory contact ever since her mother had died.

  Strange, but it was as if the past couple of days away were now serving to show her what a recluse she had become, not only from London and her old friends and old life, but from those she lived with now. Even the efforts to resurrect her programme had largely been made in the privacy of her home. She’d never discussed anything with anyone, except her family or Graham, nor had she allowed any but them to pass her front door. In fact, all this time she’d been keeping her neighbours at a stiff arm’s length, treating them almost with suspicion, when they’d never done anything but be good and loyal friends to her, her mother and her grandmother. Indeed in their own way they were like family too, but she’d been so fearful of anyone ever mentioning Chrissie or Richard that she hadn’t only cut herself off from those she knew to be in touch with them, she’d done the same with those who weren’t.