by Susan Lewis
‘I think the way to go,’ he said, ‘would be for me to alternate between presenting and acting. The weeks I’m not presenting we can call on a guest celebrity to front the show, that way we’ll add more variety and keep it looking fresh. Incidentally, did my agent call you about my contract yet?’
Carla nodded, and felt a flutter of unease as the prospect of Zanzibar moved one step closer. ‘It’s with the lawyer, and should be ready for our signatures by the end of the week,’ she told him.
He grinned. ‘So then we’ll be officially attached.’
Feeling a slight colour rise in her cheeks, she mumbled, ‘Something like that,’ and picked up the bill.
She knew he enjoyed teasing her, and on the whole she didn’t mind, for it had been a long time since a man had flirted with her in such a harmless, yet flattering way. With Richard everything was on a level that was much more soulful and intense, and even frightening since he’d begun suggesting they meet. She wanted to, of course, indeed the very thought of it filled her with such excitement and anticipation it was often what carried her so blithely through the day, but in the evenings, when she was alone and playing out the erotic instructions he’d given her, she invariably ended up feeling almost sick with embarrassment to think of herself writhing naked on the bed, as though she were some remotely controlled sex object. It was no way to be living, making love to herself and pretending he was there, so why was she continuing to do it? Why couldn’t she just say no, it’s over now, and move on? Or even yes, and agree to see him? Why was she allowing this to happen? Because she loved him, of course, and because she was afraid of losing what little of him she now had. But what about when she was in Zanzibar? The very thought of it, masturbating in a place where he and Chrissie had made love, turned her skin hot and cold with loathing. Dear God, just being on the same island was going to be bad enough; to think of humiliating herself like that made her want to tear herself to pieces rather than even consider it. She so desperately didn’t want to go, but there was no backing out now, the plans were already under way, and John was so looking forward to it that she didn’t have the heart even to suggest she might not be.
Avril sensed how reluctant she was, Carla knew, but Avril clearly had no intention of indulging her by discussing it, at least not in any depth, for she was too busy becoming fully operational in her London base. Mainly thanks to Lyle and Hans, who’d stayed for three weeks setting everything up, she now had an executive vice-president, Jeffrey Calder, two account managers, Felicia and Leo, and a vacancy for a personal assistant. On Carla’s side great progress had been made too, though the staffing of the programme was a joint effort between her and John, and so far they’d recruited the previous series’ production manager, Frazer Jackson; a researcher, also from last time, Verna Pope; and John’s choice of lighting cameraman, Kit Kingsley. The assistant director John had approached was tied up on a film for the next few months, so he was currently scouting around for another. As Carla also required an assistant it was decided that she and Avril would share, since Avril wouldn’t have need of anyone on a full-time basis.
‘Sonya would be perfect, of course,’ Avril declared one evening, as they made themselves comfortable in the glowing warmth of Carla’s candle-lit studio. ‘Can’t we get her to move up here?’
‘You might get her to, but I don’t think Mark would,’ Carla answered, patting the sofa for Eddie to jump up.
‘Have you asked him?’
‘No. Nor will I, because Sonya’s got two kids, which means she can only commit part-time anyway, and to cover both of us we need someone full-time.’
‘Can’t she get a nanny?’
Carla laughed. ‘Drop it,’ she said. ‘Sonya can’t do it, and we’ve got to concentrate on finding someone who can. Shame Davey, who did the last series, has gone back to Oz. He’d have been perfect. Bit of a slave to his libido, but a great assistant.’
‘Has John come up with any ideas?’ Avril wanted to know. ‘Where is he, by the way?’
Carla shrugged. ‘God knows. It’s past eight o’clock, he’s generally out of here by six thirty, seven at the latest.’
‘He is? I hadn’t noticed. Where does he go?’
‘I don’t know,’ Carla cried, laughing. ‘Home, I expect. Or out somewhere. If the amount of calls he gets are anything to go by, then he’s got such an active social life I’m amazed he manages to get up in the morning, never mind drag himself over here for a full day’s work.’
‘But you’re getting along well with him?’
‘Of course.’
Avril looked pleased. ‘So you haven’t given him the slip in favour of Richard again?’ she said.
Carla’s annoyance showed. ‘Richard and John are two entirely separate issues in my life,’ she responded, ‘so the question of giving one the slip in favour of the other doesn’t come into it.’
‘It did the night after the party, when John cooked a meal at Graham’s, and you couldn’t make it because you were listening to an opera, supposedly with Richard, but actually on your own.’
Carla’s expression was tight. ‘I’m not getting into that again,’ she retorted. ‘I told you at the time, what I do, and when and how I do it, is my business. I don’t get on your case over the male escorts you choose to go out with, so don’t get on mine over how Richard and I choose to spend our time.’
Avril looked at her hard.
Carla refused to justify herself further.
With no preamble Avril said, ‘When was the last time you had sex?’
Carla blinked. ‘What?’
‘You heard me.’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘You know damned well what it’s got to do with anything. All that e-masturbation and cyber-screwing, it’s not real, Carla …’
‘It’s not like that, now let’s leave it, shall we?’
Avril continued to look at her, then finally moved her eyes around the room, which was cosily furnished with a deep beige sofa and matching armchair, queen-sized brass bed, Oriental rugs and cabinets, loaded bookshelves and lushly draped windows. ‘Anything in here that didn’t come from your and Richard’s flat?’ she asked lightly.
‘I’m not in a position to go out and buy everything new, the way you did,’ Carla reminded her tersely.
‘No, of course not. Sorry.’
A few more tense moments passed, then Carla’s expression softened. ‘No, I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I guess I’m tired, and anxious about tomorrow …’
‘What’s tomorrow?’
‘John and I start casting for the Zanzibar programme.’
‘Oh, right. Have you told Richard you’re going?’
‘Not yet.’
‘But you’re still in touch with him? Every day?’
‘More or less.’
‘Does he ever say how Chrissie is?’
‘No.’
‘The baby?’
‘No. Look, let’s get off the subject, or we’ll end up falling out.’
‘OK. But just answer me this. Has he asked to see you at all, now he knows you’re in London?’
Carla’s answer was to look down at Eddie’s face, resting on her lap.
‘Well, thanks to the papers we now know he’s in Knightsbridge,’ Avril pointed out. ‘A hop and a skip from here.’
Still Carla said nothing.
‘Don’t you think it’s odd, that he hasn’t asked …’
‘He has, OK?’ Carla snapped. ‘In fact, if you must know, he’s suggested it several times and I’m the one who’s holding back.’
Avril couldn’t have looked more surprised. ‘Why?’ she demanded.
‘I don’t know. I suppose because I’m just too afraid of being hurt again.’
‘Well, I can understand that,’ Avril responded. ‘But it’s not really healthy, is it, going on the way you are?’
‘So you think I should see him?’
‘As a matter of fact I do, because it’s probably the only way t
o lay the ghost.’
Carla shifted restlessly. Even discussing this was hard, especially in terms of breaking it off. ‘If I do see him,’ she said, ‘it won’t end there. We both know that …’
‘And where do you think it’s going to lead, considering the commitments he now has?’
Carla threw out her hands. ‘I don’t know,’ she cried, irritably. ‘I haven’t got the faintest idea. Now let’s get off the subject. Tell me how long you’re going to be in LA. Will you be back for Christmas?’
Sighing and stretching, Avril said, ‘I’m not sure. I’ve already been away longer than I should have. But I’m considering coming back for the Zanzibar trip. It’s OK, I’ll pay my own way, and handle the publicity, so how’s that for an offer? When is it, by the way?’
‘John’s going in about three weeks, to recce and cast locally,’ Carla answered. ‘The actual shoot’s due to happen in January.’
‘You’re not going with him on the recce?’
‘There’s no need for me to, so there’s no point adding to the expense. When are you leaving, by the way?’
‘Sunday,’ Avril answered, looking at her watch. ‘Shall we go out to eat, or shall we see what we can rummage up in the kitchen downstairs?’
Half an hour later Avril was heaping piles of steaming hot pasta and spicy tomato sauce into a couple of bowls, while Carla set a fresh bottle of wine on the big pine table then reached up to get some glasses from one of the shiny oak cabinets over the sink. Though the kitchen was slightly beaten, and old-fashioned, it was homely and functional, and during the day offered a sunny view on to the disastrously untidy patio-garden. By now the conversation had moved on to the current state of financing for the next series of There and Beyond.
‘We’ve probably got four programmes covered,’ Carla was saying, as she filled the glasses, ‘and there are still plenty of possibles who haven’t come back to us yet. The fact that the ratings have increased is working wonders, and all the positive press you’re managing to get us is definitely making a difference.’
‘Which other locations are you planning to feature?’ Avril asked, pulling up one of the Victorian-style stickback chairs.
‘Argentina, India, Bali, and the others are still up for discussion. John’s quite keen on Greece, which I’ve already done part of a script for.’
‘Mm, interesting choices,’ Avril commented. Then, going to get the pepper mill from next to the hob, she said, ‘Has it occurred to you that John might have a bit of thing for you?’
Carla immediately stopped eating. ‘I can’t believe you said that,’ she finally responded. ‘He’s never done anything to give even the slightest impression he’s interested in me, and by suggesting it you’re going to make it uncomfortable for me when I see him again.’
Avril laughed. ‘It’s OK,’ she said, sitting down again. ‘I don’t think he’s about to leap on you. Though a spot of leaping about with John Rossmore would probably do you the power of good. Release some of that tension you’ve got building up over there. And you can’t tell me you don’t find him attractive.’
‘Actually, I don’t,’ Carla lied. It certainly wasn’t a huge attraction, but considering how charismatic, not to mention good-looking and physical, he was, it was hard not to imagine what he might be like in bed. But she had no intention of telling Avril that, for there was every chance Avril would pass it on to John, and she’d rather hang upside down naked in a public place than be numbered amongst the millions who were all dying to know what John Rossmore was like in the sack. ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘I thought you had designs in that direction.’
‘Me!’ Avril laughed. ‘I’d like to shag him every night for a month, but I value our new friendship too highly to jeopardize it for the sake of mere fleshly fulfilment.’
‘Well, the same goes here. Not that I want to shag him, as you so eloquently put it, but I wouldn’t want to jeopardize the working relationship we already have.’
‘Glad to hear it, because God knows it would be the easiest thing in the world to find yourself taken in by all that wit and charm. Regardless of whether or not he’s got the hots for you, I can tell you this: all women are, to men like John Rossmore, is a reason to change the sheets. And being tossed out with the laundry once is enough for any woman.’
Carla was looking perturbed, as, cutting herself a slice of olive bread, she said, ‘You know, I hope his womanizing isn’t going to prove a problem while we’re shooting, because the last thing we need is him causing havoc amongst the female members of the cast and crew.’
‘Well, you’re going to be in some wickedly hot climates, and you know what heat does to the libido,’ Avril warned. ‘But he’s behaved like a professional thus far, and I for one am pretty convinced by how committed he seems to the programme’s success.’
‘Mm,’ Carla responded dubiously. In fact, were it not for Sonya faxing her the occasional article that popped up in the diary and gossip columns, placing John Rossmore at various hot spots around town, she might not have been even half so concerned. After all, the way he’d conducted himself with her these past few weeks hardly suggested a tempestuous, hard-drinking egomaniac with an incurable passion for women and gambling. However, the papers were nothing if not consistent in their portrayal of his bad-boy image, frequently commenting on how he was rarely seen with the same girl twice, and how, just last week, he’d been involved in a scuffle with the police after they’d been called to deal with some ‘threatening behaviour’ at a Mayfair casino.
Being ever mindful of how she had failed to detect any signs of Richard’s duplicity, Carla was doubly unnerved by this apparent split personality in John. Still, at least in this case she knew about the aberration beforehand, so she didn’t have to be afraid of it coming out of nowhere the way it had last time.
‘Do you think what we read about him in the papers is true?’ she said to Avril.
Avril shrugged, and, finishing a mouthful of food, said, ‘Probably. At least a lot of it will be, but all you have to concern yourself with is the fact that he didn’t get where he is today without talent and tenacity, or without a killer knowledge of how to play the press to his own ends when it suits him.’
Carla carried on eating. Avril was right, of course, she didn’t need to concern herself with anything about John other than what he was bringing to the programme. As that amounted to just about everything, including the go-position they were now rapidly sliding into, she reminded herself of how fortunate she was to have him on board, then turned her thoughts to Richard and the ever-increasing dilemma of what, if anything, she should do about seeing him.
Chrissie was pushing Ryan’s stroller through the crowded food department in Harrods. The overhead lights were dazzling, the various smells and noises were a bouquet and cacophony that felt joltingly at odds with her own reality, much like the towering pre-Christmas displays and seasonal music were out of place so early in November.
People kept stopping to admire her beautiful baby, so Chrissie smiled and thanked them, but never looked at Ryan herself for fear of starting her screaming. But so far Ryan had been an angel, and since Chrissie had been taking the medication Richard had insisted on, she’d felt better too. At least now she had the energy to get out of bed, she even cooked on occasion and went out for walks with Richard and Ryan. She’d only agreed to take the Prozac because Richard had looked so anguished when he’d tried to persuade her that she’d been afraid of what he might do if she didn’t. Though he’d sworn he’d never let anyone take her away, she didn’t believe him, because she’d heard the doctor telling him that in the end it might be the only solution. She hadn’t seen the doctor herself, not even when he came to the house, she’d just listened from the top of the stairs as he told Richard about psychoses and depressions and an urgent need for intense psychotherapy.
So she took the medication, and life did seem a little brighter now, so much so that she’d even chatted on the phone with some of her friends. No-one ever mentioned
that horrible spread in the paper, nor did she and Richard any more. It had been awful at the time, so hard for them to deal with that in the end they’d made a pact to try and forget it. But before the pact they’d tried to work out who might have been behind the story. Richard had suspected the man with the grey hair who was so often outside the house. Certainly they hadn’t seen him since, but Chrissie knew she hadn’t told him anything about Richard, or Carla, or even herself to the degree it was in the paper. Of course there was the new nanny, but she simply hadn’t known them long enough to give so much detail on Chrissie’s past. That left only one other person, but Chrissie hadn’t mentioned that person to Richard, because if she was right, she didn’t want anyone to know the shame she felt for having led someone to avenge themselves on Carla for something Carla hadn’t even done.
But she didn’t need to worry about Carla now. The programme was in its fourth week of transmission, the ratings were fantastic, and whatever damage the article might have inflicted had no doubt been obliterated by the heady swell of success. And she knew how that felt, because people were recognizing her and congratulating her all the time, now that she was coming out more, and seeing the reaction for herself. Carla might have snatched away her power, but there was nothing she could do to steal her glory.
Stopping at the chocolate counter, she helped herself to one of the truffles a girl was handing out, found it delicious and bought a box for Richard. Moving on, she came across another promotion, this time for punch, and giggled with the woman as she downed three straight off. The cheese counter was one of her favourites, and as usual there were plenty of varieties chopped into cubes for tasting. She thought about what to get for dinner, but wasn’t sure if Richard would be back in time. He’d gone to see someone he’d been trying to get a meeting with for ages, someone to do with Middle East intelligence, he’d said.
An hour later she found herself being tempted by the exotic fragrances of the perfumery department. She was laden with parcels by now, though with no real recollection of what was in them, or even of buying them. It wasn’t the first time she’d mentally blanked like this, but such lapses happened to everyone, and everyone had an inbuilt autopilot that steered them about when they had lots on their mind, like when she’d taken the car last week and driven out to the cemetery where her father was buried. She couldn’t remember anything about getting there, not even taking the decision to go, but she’d known exactly where she was when she’d arrived, and had then found her way back again without Richard even knowing she was gone. It wasn’t the first time she’d gone off like that, and he didn’t know about the other times either.
