Strange Allure

by Susan Lewis

  Now, as Sonya spun her off towards the bar, she almost collided with Maudie, who was waiting for the Reverend to see her home.

  ‘Ah!’ Carla said, staggering to a halt. ‘I’m glad to catch you. If you hear any singing tomorrow night, it’ll be coming from my CD player.’ She didn’t add that this was a ‘date’ with Richard, to listen to one of their favourite operas.

  Not quite sober, Maudie blinked a few times, then said, ‘There’s something going on in old Gilbert’s house, you mark my words, and I’m going to speak to that detective friend of Graham’s about it.’

  Coming to join them, Avril said, ‘You already did that.’

  Maudie swayed from side to side. ‘Did I?’ she said. ‘What did he find?’

  ‘That Carla had her CD player on too loud.’

  Maudie was shaking her head. ‘Not that,’ she said. ‘I know it wasn’t that.’

  ‘So what was it?’

  ‘Ah, there you are, Maudie,’ the Reverend said, coming up behind her with her coat. ‘Ready to go?’

  After punching thin air a couple of times as she tried to insert an arm in a sleeve Maudie finally managed to get into her coat, and after slurring a frosty goodbye, she followed the Reverend and his nephew out into the night.

  ‘Silly old bag,’ Avril commented, then, catching Carla’s arm, she dragged her over to where Graham and John and several others were engaged in a one-upmanship contest as to who had seen or heard the weirdest things.

  ‘Oh God, Maudie should still be here,’ Carla laughed, sitting down between Gayle and Perry.

  ‘Sssh,’ Angie said, ‘Fleur’s telling us about the aliens she and Perry have been making contact with lately.’

  ‘We haven’t actually managed to speak to them yet,’ Fleur insisted, ‘but we will, soon. We’ve ordered all this high-tech equipment from the States that’ll help us communicate better. It should be here any time. But we can definitely hear them, can’t we Perry?’

  ‘So what are they saying?’ Sylvia wanted to know.

  Fleur’s angelic face was earnestly sober. ‘Hard to make it out,’ she answered, ‘but they’re definitely talking about our planet.’

  ‘So they speak English?’ Teddy said, hiding a smirk.

  Fleur nodded. ‘The ones we’ve heard do.’

  ‘So how do you know they’re talking about Earth?’ Angie asked.

  ‘And where are they, exactly?’ Faith demanded. ‘Just in case I gets any letters for ’em,’ she added, making everyone laugh.

  ‘They’re somewhere in their own craft,’ Fleur answered, not in the least bit fazed. ‘We haven’t managed to locate it yet, but it can’t be far away, and once we’ve got all our stuff from America set up …’

  ‘Did you see that film, Contact?’ Gayle said. ‘You’re going to be like the Jodie Foster character.’

  ‘Hah!’ her husband laughed. ‘That’s the one where they had Pensacola, Florida as paradise. Can’t say I want to go there much, when my number’s up.’

  ‘I think Jodie Foster’s wonderful,’ Beanie swooned. ‘Have you ever met her?’ she asked John.

  He shook his head. ‘Avril probably has,’ he offered.

  ‘Not yet,’ Avril confessed, ‘but give me time.’

  Teddy was eager to get back into the bizarre. ‘Come on, Graham,’ he said, ‘you must be full of weird and wonderful stories. So what’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen or heard?’

  Graham pulled a face as he thought hard and stared down at his drink.

  Everyone was agog, and Carla could see he was going to do his best not to disappoint them.

  ‘Well,’ he said finally, ‘I suppose the worst thing I’ve ever seen has to be someone being murdered.’

  Virtually everyone’s jaw dropped. ‘You’ve seen someone getting killed?’ Sylvia breathed. ‘How? I mean, what, were they chopped up, or strangled, or what?’

  Graham lifted his glass, then said, ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.’ He put his glass back on the table. ‘It happened a long time ago, but it was very distressing, and I … Well, I never talk about it, and as I said, I shouldn’t have brought it up.’

  It was clear that everyone was dying to ask who it had been, where it had happened, how he’d come to be there, was it in one of his books now, and many other questions, but the pale, closed expression on his face made them hold back.

  Stepping into the breach, Angie said, ‘Come on, Pete, we should go home, we’ve got work tomorrow.’

  ‘Bloody hell, don’t remind me,’ he grumbled.

  Avril said to John, ‘Where are you staying?’

  ‘I’ve booked a hotel in Bath, so I should leave my car here and get a taxi.’

  ‘Won’t hear of it,’ Graham told him. ‘Plenty of room at my house, and it’s walking distance. My wife’s away, so we’ll have to fend for ourselves, but I’m sure we can manage.’

  ‘I was going to invite him to stay with me,’ Avril protested.

  ‘So was every other woman in the village,’ Gayle added.

  ‘Plenty of room at my place,’ Robin chirped up.

  Laughing, John held up his hands. ‘I’ll take the first offer, if it’s OK,’ he said to Graham. ‘But I should see Eddie and his girls home first.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about us,’ Carla said. ‘We could do with the air.’

  ‘The most gorgeous man on earth offers to see her home, and she wants air,’ Avril complained.

  It wasn’t until they were walking back through the village, with John and Graham heading in the opposite direction, that it briefly occurred to Carla how little she knew about John Rossmore’s private life. This was surprising, considering how often it must have been written about in the press. However, gossip had never held much appeal for her, so she only ever got the gist of what was going on, like how difficult he could be to work with, and how hard he partied. She’d yet to witness either, though it was still very early days and the way he’d thrown himself into this evening certainly proved he had no aversion to the good time. She presumed he was single, and straight, or Avril wouldn’t be making such a play for him, though one could never tell with Avril, who wasn’t the type to let such trivialities stand in her way. Carla toyed for a moment with asking, then decided against it. She didn’t want Avril reading anything into her interest, which was only mild anyway, and could easily be satisfied by tapping into the Internet, if she was that keen to know. Which she wasn’t. It was simply an idle curiosity, promptly dismissed, for, unlike many of her neighbours, she had no desire whatsoever to fall asleep thinking of John Rossmore.

  Chapter 12

  MOVING INTO THE Belgravia ménage turned out to be a riotous affair, thanks to Lyle and Hans, the two stand-up comics who, in true Hollywood fashion, were moonlighting as a team of first-rate business managers, currently working exclusively for Avril. Their outrageous approach to the world, and mind-boggling talent for making things happen, meant that any angst Carla might have suffered at this next big step in her life was immediately tossed in the air and blasted to smithereens by their scathing wit. Sonya and Avril were having a real trip with them, while Carla and John Rossmore attempted to discuss the programme, unpack boxes, put up shelves and dodge round removal men.

  For the moment John had disappeared, and Carla was under a desk trying to plug in a computer and suppress the dread of Zanzibar that she’d woken up with that morning, and had little hope of shaking now that everything was going ahead.

  ‘OK! What’s going on out here?’ Avril suddenly demanded, banging out of the kitchen in her fuchsia pink dungarees and blue spotted hairband.

  ‘Ah, here she is, like a page out of Vogue,’ Hans crooned.

  ‘And I’ve never seen a woman more out of vogue,’ Lyle added.

  ‘Yes, very funny,’ Avril responded. ‘What’s happened to John Rossmore? I hope he’s not shirking …’

  ‘I’m up here!’ he shouted, from the balcony.

  Avril turned to look up. ‘Why?’ she asked. ‘T
hose are our private quarters.’

  ‘Because someone threw a pile of bedding at me, and told me to bring it up here,’ he answered reasonably.

  ‘That was me,’ Sonya owned up, appearing from behind a tall cupboard with a mobile phone pressed to her ear. ‘I’ve got the delivery department from Harrods on the line,’ she told Avril, swerving round a couple of removal men who were lugging in Carla’s furniture from storage. ‘They can bring the new bed and sofas for your flat today, but the rest of it won’t be available until next week.’

  ‘Whenever,’ Avril responded, waving a dismissive hand. ‘Is the plumber up there with you, John? One of the taps isn’t working in the kitchen.’

  Sonya was beetling after the removal company’s foreman. ‘I asked your boss for a printout of everything. Did he remember to give it to you?’ she asked, grabbing his arm.

  ‘Didn’t give nothing to me,’ the foreman grunted.

  Sonya immediately got on the line to the storage company. As she waited to be put through Avril backed into her, dragging a heavy box. ‘What time are you leaving to drive home?’ Avril wanted to know.

  ‘About four,’ Sonya answered. ‘That should get me back for seven at the very latest. Why? Oh, hang on. Yes, Mr Fox? Sonya Craig here. That’s right, the printout. I need the total of everything we’ve paid over the last fifteen months, including the charges for today, to give to the accountant.’ She paused as he spoke, and glanced at Avril. Then she was frowning. ‘You gave it to who?’ she said. ‘But I didn’t send anyone … No, I didn’t ask for anything to be taken out of storage until today. Are you sure you’ve got the right account?’

  Avril was looking at her curiously.

  ‘Well, I don’t know anything about that,’ Sonya said. ‘There must be some mistake. Anyway, could you put the printout in the post to me, please?’

  ‘What was all that about?’ Avril said, as she rang off.

  Sonya shrugged. ‘Got his wires crossed somewhere,’ she answered. ‘Says someone took some things out of storage last week and he gave them our statement. With any luck they’ll pay it, whoever they are.’

  ‘Didn’t he say who it was?’

  ‘No, just said “the gentleman” I sent. But believe me, I’ve been dealing with this company for over a year, and I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve received bills that weren’t ours and letters asking us for keys we never had. Now, where were we? Oh, yes, I’m leaving at four.’

  ‘Great. Could you run Lyle out to the airport on your way, he’s got a friend flying in from LA who he wants to meet.’

  ‘No problem,’ Sonya answered. ‘Oh, crikey. Look at that. What are they doing with those filing cabinets?’ and off she zoomed to carry on supervising the deliveries.

  By late afternoon everything was finally in, and as the door closed behind the heavily-tipped removal team Avril conjured a magnum of Laurent Perrier from the fridge, which she got John to crack open so they could drink a toast – in hastily produced coffee mugs – to their excellent ménage.

  ‘I’ve got to hand it to you two,’ John said, looking up at the huge picture windows and exquisitely painted ceiling, ‘this place is definitely unique.’ He was standing at the centre of the room, dust from the shelves he’d put up smearing his face, sweat dampening his clothes, so that his T-shirt clung to his body in a way that made Avril glance at Carla with wicked eyes.

  ‘Have you decided what’s going where yet?’ Hans asked, slumping into an executive swivel-chair and looking doubtfully at the utter disorganization of desks, filing cabinets, bookcases, framed prints, boxes of stationery, stacks of video cassettes and dozens of unlabelled boxes.

  ‘My section’s over there in front of the fireplace,’ Avril answered, going to sit cross-legged on an unpacked box. ‘I’m not going to need as big a staff as Carla, so her desks and stuff will take up about two-thirds of the space.’

  ‘Which means I should be paying more rent,’ Carla stated, from where she was perched on the top of a stepladder.

  ‘In lieu of which I’ve taken a share in her company,’ Avril announced. ‘So let’s drink to that too.’

  Too tired to get up, they merely raised their glasses, then Sonya, noticing the time, dragged Lyle off to where she’d left her car, on a meter that had happily jammed.

  Carla was watching John as he strolled over to the stairs and sat down on the bottom step. Catching her eye he winked and instead of smiling she looked quickly away, which was a stupid reaction, when she should have just come right out with what she was thinking, and thanked him for helping today. After all, he probably had a thousand other things to do and places to be, but in choosing to come here and muck in with everyone else he’d shown where his priorities were. Besides, it wasn’t everyone who could lay claim to having John Rossmore put up their shelves and shift around their bedroom furniture, which alone deserved a word of acknowledgement.

  ‘I’m knackered,’ Avril yawned. ‘And starving. Who’s for pizza?’

  ‘Definitely,’ Hans replied.

  ‘Me too,’ Carla added.

  John drained his glass. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to count me out,’ he said, glancing at his watch. ‘I should leave here in half an hour, so make use of me while you can.’

  Avril looked him up and down. ‘Now there’s an offer,’ she responded seductively.

  Carla laughed, then coloured slightly as she looked at John, whose eyes were dancing. He was obviously well used to women like Avril, and not for the first time Carla found herself wishing that she too could occasionally be a little more laid-back.

  ‘But you’ve still got all sorts of trust issues going on,’ Avril reminded her, when Carla brought the subject up later, as they wearily climbed the stairs to their studio flats, ‘which is bound to make you a bit nervy around men. And besides, it’s just not in your character to be as brazen as me. Your attributes, oh long-legged, tousle-haired beauty that you are, are elsewhere placed. Now, what do you say we bunk up together tonight, because I don’t think I’ve got enough energy left to make up more than one bed?’

  ‘Fine by me, but we should make it mine, because Eddie’ll want to crash out with us and all your bedding’s brand new. Which reminds me, we’d better trot him round the block before we turn in.’

  ‘You’re on your own,’ Avril muttered. Then, looking down at the madness below, she groaned out loud and sent up an impassioned plea for Mary Poppins to swoop in and rescue them.

  However, somehow, over the next two days, a semblance of order was culled from the chaos, as telephones were connected, computers were installed and the great unpacking began to look marginally less like a scene from Twister. With so much organizing and arranging to be done, there wasn’t much time for Carla to dwell on some of the terrible reviews the programme had received the morning after transmission, or how utterly terrified she’d felt by them, though there were plenty of moments when they stole up on her anyway, and left her feeling almost physically sick. Three critics had absolutely torn it to shreds, calling it pompous, non-directional, out of touch and, in one particularly nasty case, a patronizing and xenophobic attempt to disguise utter twaddle as cultural enlightenment.

  The rest of the reviews had been glowing, calling it fresh, imaginative, funny, and a cut above the more mundane approach to this type of programme. Maddening, how the praise never seemed to soften the blows of censure and ridicule. It was like a tender caress after a sharp, painful slap – welcome, but not very effective. Not even the high viewing figures had been much of a balm either, since they were attributed to the promotional build-up, rather than audience approval. However, the second programme, set in Mexico, had now gone out, and the ratings, to Carla’s surprise, and relief, had held steady. Had they dropped, she honestly didn’t think she’d be taking the risk of moving into the ménage, but that small boost to her confidence, combined with John’s unshakable belief in the programme, and Avril’s refusal to countenance failure, had refuelled her determination to make this show wo
rk. So now there was never any discussion about her misgivings for the future, only about how they were going to continue raising enough money to finance it, which was an exercise that she and John were throwing themselves into with praiseworthy zeal.

  Virtually every day over the following few weeks was taken up by meetings with bankers, businessmen, industry financiers and sponsorship brokers. That they could produce such impressive viewing figures was certainly holding some sway, though Carla was very aware that John’s involvement, and charm, were responsible for many of the positive decisions, especially now that he had agreed to appear in the programme.

  ‘Sure, I understand why you’re asking,’ he’d said when she first approached him on the matter, ‘and all modesty aside, I think it’s the right move. I just wanted it to come from you, rather than me.’

  Carla’s eyebrows went up. ‘I thought all modesty was aside,’ she teased.

  Laughing, he sat back in his chair and signalled for a waiter to bring the bill. They usually lunched together now, since most days found them somewhere in the City or West End, in between meetings and with a need to eat – or even sometimes to celebrate, when a potential backer became a committed investor.