Strange Allure

by Susan Lewis

  ‘Oh! Great!’ he said, obviously pleased. ‘Which line?’

  ‘Three.’

  ‘Carla!’ Marjie called from the kitchen door. ‘Avril wants to speak to you.’

  ‘Put her through here,’ Carla shouted over an eruption of laughter at something Hugo had just said. ‘And pipe down, you lot! I can’t hear myself think.’

  ‘What’s all the noise?’ Avril wanted to know, when Carla picked up the line.

  ‘God knows,’ Carla responded. ‘It’s a madhouse here. Now tell me, did you get the amended copy of the Zanzibar schedule I attached to an email?’

  ‘Yeah. And I can still make it, no problem.’

  Carla’s heart flooded with relief, for she didn’t even want to think about making the trip without Avril. ‘That’s great,’ she said. ‘John and the others are off on the recce next week, you should speak to him before he goes. I’ll pass you over when we’ve finished.’

  ‘Sure. So everything’s working out with you two? No clash of the titans, or wars of the roses?’

  ‘Not even a small scuffle at mill,’ Carla answered. ‘And if this is you looking for material …’

  ‘A falling-out between you and John Rossmore is not something I’d want to go public with,’ Avril interrupted. ‘However, if you want to fake it …’

  Carla said to John, ‘Avril’s asking if we want to fake it.’

  He grimaced, as he considered. ‘Hard to fake the real thing,’ he responded earnestly.

  Startled out of a pithy response, Carla almost blushed as she said to Avril, ‘Did you hear that?’

  Avril was laughing. ‘I most certainly did,’ she answered. ‘But is he talking about what we’re talking about?’

  Changing the subject, Carla said, ‘Have you seen the new advertising budget for the repeat transmissions?’

  ‘Yes, but before we get into that, what’s all this I hear about an intruder at the cottage?’

  Carla immediately went cold. ‘What do you mean?’ she said, her heartbeat slowing. ‘What intruder?’

  ‘I just spoke to Sonya,’ Avril replied. ‘She said someone was seen …’

  ‘Why hasn’t she told me?’ Carla cried, only then spotting the Post-it telling her to call Sonya. ‘Who was it, does she know?’

  ‘I don’t think so. She only told me that …’

  ‘I need to call her,’ Carla said. ‘I’ll get back to you about the budget.’

  Hitting the connectors she picked up another line and dialled Sonya’s number.

  ‘Are you OK?’ John asked.

  She nodded, then realizing this might be a call she didn’t want overheard, she quickly rang off and ran upstairs to her studio. Minutes later she was speaking to Sonya.

  ‘It’s OK, calm down,’ Sonya was saying. ‘Nothing’s been damaged, nothing’s missing, we don’t even know if Maudie really did see anyone. You know what she’s like.’

  Carla did, only too well, though it didn’t relax her too much. ‘So what happened?’ she demanded. ‘You said you pulled up outside …’

  ‘I pulled up outside just as Graham was letting himself out of the front door. Apparently Maudie went straight to him when she saw someone, and he went to check it out. We went back in together, but like I said, no damage has been done, and nothing’s missing. In fact, if you ask me, Maudie’s just stirring up trouble.’

  ‘Did you talk to her? Did she say who it might have been?’

  ‘She wasn’t there, but Graham talked to her, obviously.’ There was a pause, then Sonya said, ‘I know you’re probably thinking of Richard, but apparently Maudie thought it was a woman.’

  Carla’s heart turned inside out. Surely to God it wasn’t a ghost Maudie had seen. Oh please no. She’d never believed in them before, but maybe that was only because she’d never seen one. She’d certainly felt something though, on more than one occasion, and now this.

  ‘You know, I wouldn’t worry too much,’ Sonya advised. ‘Maudie’s always seeing and hearing things, we all know that, probably because she gets bored sitting behind those net curtains all day long, so she likes to create a little action for herself.’

  Carla really wanted to believe that, and with someone calling out for her downstairs, and Eddie scratching at the door to be let in, she decided she had to, at least for now. So, ending the call, she went back downstairs, Eddie at her heels, as she tried comforting herself with how sensitive dogs were supposed to be to the supernatural, so surely what she was sensing when at the cottage couldn’t be a ghost, or Eddie would have responded. And whatever Maudie had seen was probably nothing more sinister than someone delivering fliers or selling insurance.

  By six that evening, after another hectic day of meetings and schedules, Carla came out of the viewing room where she’d been watching some of the competition’s videos to find Phoebe perched on the edge of Marjie’s desk while speaking to someone on her mobile phone. Marjie herself was arranging for a car to come and pick the actress up.

  Carla linked fingers with Phoebe as she passed, then sat down at her computer to start going over the figures Frazer had entered. It was dark outside, and Hugo was putting on his coat while chatting to Leo and Felicia, who were also showing signs of leaving. Behind her, Carla heard Phoebe say, ‘Fantastic! I’ll ask him.’ Then to John she said, ‘Hey, do you want to come over to Holme House? There’s a surprise party for Wes Powell. Starts at seven.’

  ‘Sure,’ John replied. ‘What’s it in aid of?’

  ‘His birthday. I’m speaking to Tilly.’

  ‘Tell her hi, and yes, I’ll definitely be there, though maybe not as early as seven.’ He was looking at his watch. ‘Hell, it’s already after six. What time’s your car coming?’

  ‘It’ll be outside in less than a minute,’ Marjie answered, putting the phone down.

  ‘This woman’s a magician,’ Phoebe declared.

  ‘Not a magician, merely fortunate enough to call just as someone was getting dropped off a few doors down,’ Marjie responded. ‘In fact, I think I’ll cadge a lift myself, if you’re going past a tube station.’

  ‘Name it, we’ll pass it,’ John told her, putting on his leather jacket and tucking a scarf into the collar.

  ‘Don’t anyone mind me!’ Carla cried. ‘I can hold the fort.’

  ‘Then watch out for those Indians,’ John told her.

  She slanted him a look, while hoping that nothing in her expression showed how much she’d like to be invited to the surprise party too. But it must have, for John said, ‘Why don’t you come? You can be my date for the evening.’

  Carla’s heart jolted.

  ‘Now there’s an offer that’s never been refused,’ Phoebe declared, winding herself seductively around John, while smiling her beautiful smile at Carla.

  A thousand jumbled thoughts were racing through Carla’s mind, like, could she go dressed as she was? How long would it take to get changed? What was his motive for asking? Who was Karen, who’d called earlier? What about leaving Eddie alone? And what about Richard? But what about him, for God’s sake? Theirs was only a pseudo-relationship, which, when stripped of its metaphysical posturing and soul-journey gloss, was nothing more than something Zen-like and karmic to hold on to because neither of them wanted to let go. Well, it was about time she did.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she heard herself saying, ‘I’ve got a lot of work to finish up here, and I’m meeting a friend for dinner, later.’ Why had she said that? It was a lie, she had no friend to meet, and she’d really love to go. But he might have asked out of pity, thinking she was going to spend yet another evening alone, and she loathed the very idea of being seen as a charity case. Such pride, and there she was, still smiling away, as though her empty social life belonged to someone else entirely.

  ‘Oh well,’ John said, ‘old Fraze is still here to keep you company, so’s Jeffrey.’

  ‘Already gone,’ Jeffrey announced, hefting his briefcase onto his desk and starting to pack up.

  ‘Got a yoga class at seve
n,’ Frazer informed them. ‘Then I’m on my third date with the gorgeous Clarissa.’

  Minutes later, in an exodus that almost caused a draught, everyone was gone and Carla was alone with Eddie. ‘Well,’ she said, looking down at him, the commotion of the day still echoing in her ears, ‘he could have tried to persuade me.’

  Eddie cocked his head to one side.

  ‘On the other hand,’ she said, ‘I’ve got scripts to write for Greece and India, and while it’s quiet like this, it would be just the time to get started.’

  Eddie’s head went to the other side.

  ‘But first, we’ll take you for a walk. As it’s the only social life we have, we definitely don’t want to miss out on it, do we?’ And then, she added defiantly to herself, she was going to email Richard and tell him straight out that she wanted to see him.

  ‘Carla’s on the phone,’ Betty said.

  Graham looked up from the newspaper he was reading. Betty was standing in the sitting-room doorway, her small, sturdy frame cast in shadows from the darkened hall behind her, her solemn face glowing softly in the reflected firelight. ‘Oh, good,’ he said, smiling.

  Betty waited for him to lift the receiver on the small table beside him, then returned to the kitchen to replace the phone there.

  ‘Carla!’ Graham said, pleasure deepening his voice.

  ‘How are you?’

  ‘Excellent. Where are you?’

  ‘In London, but I’ll be down at the weekend.’

  ‘Then we’ll make a date for Saturday evening at the pub,’ he declared. ‘Unless you’ve got other plans.’

  ‘No. Saturday’s fine,’ she said. ‘Sonya told me about Maudie, thanks for going to check the house over.’

  ‘Not at all. There was nothing amiss. Not that I expected there to be, but you know Maudie, she probably wouldn’t have let up until someone reacted.’

  ‘So you don’t think there was anything to it?’ Carla said.

  ‘There didn’t appear to be, but it would take a braver man than I to accuse Maudie Taylor of seeing things.’

  The irony was audible in Carla’s voice as she said, ‘So it’s safe to come home?’

  ‘Oh, I think so,’ he chuckled. ‘Would you like me to pick you up at the station?’

  ‘Wonderful. I’ll call before to let you know which train we’ll be on.’ For a moment it seemed as though she might say more, but then she merely wished him goodnight and rang off.

  After replacing the receiver Graham ambled through to the kitchen where Betty was taking a goulash from the oven. Hearing him come in, she said, ‘What time do you want to eat?’

  ‘As soon as you’re ready,’ he answered. Then, rubbing a hand thoughtfully over his chin, he said, ‘I wonder if I should go and talk to Maudie again?’

  Betty looked surprised. ‘Do you think you need to?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he answered, shaking his head. ‘Maybe not. Nothing to worry about, I’m sure.’

  ‘Then leave it,’ Betty advised. ‘Best forgotten.’

  Chapter 16

  SHE’D SLEPT FOR so long that the seasons had changed. That was how it felt, though it was only the wintry darkness inside her that was succumbing to a shadowy and tentative spring. Outside the streets were grey with cold, the trees barren and rigid with a frost that melted late in the day, sometimes to return in the morning. The pills were working a little like that, slowly dissolving the paranoia, clearing her vision and even easing her gingerly out of the black depths of despair. She didn’t always feel so afraid now, though she was often nervous and querulous, but that would pass, they told her, and the periods of light were already getting longer. Ryan’s crying still made her anxious, though, on the whole, she was dealing with it better now. Just the occasional burst of alarm, or flutter of dismay, but Richard was always there, watching her, encouraging her, never failing in his love as she struggled back from the terrifying abyss that had the power to suck her in like a clam.

  Soon she would begin her sessions with a therapist, but not just yet. The medication needed more time to work, and everyone was warning her not to rush. Now she had agreed to accept help, the process would be slow, they told her, but much more effective if she learned to trust those around her, and take each day at a time. And despite the moments of utter bleakness, and spells of lethargy, she’d managed a Christmas-shopping trip with Richard and Ryan just yesterday, and today she had unpacked some of the boxes upstairs.

  Now, she was sitting on the sofa next to Richard, feeling slightly bewildered, and remote, as she listened to Rosa gossiping about There and Beyond, while Jilly cooed and fussed over Ryan, who was now dressed in the cute little dungarees Jilly had just given her.

  For her part Rosa was uncomfortably aware of Richard’s eyes watching her across the sitting room of this smart Knightsbridge house, where half of his and Chrissie’s belongings were still in boxes, and most of the upstairs rooms were so neglected they could almost be derelict. The way he fixed a person with that ruthlessly silent scrutiny, as though assessing them with that oh, so superior brain, was enough to make anyone squirm. But not her, because she had nothing to squirm about. She was just being honest about the way things were at There and Beyond, now that Chrissie wasn’t part of it any more.

  ‘There’s just not the same atmosphere,’ she complained, keeping her eyes on Chrissie, as though Richard didn’t exist. ‘You know, they don’t have the kind of fun you used to have, and Carla’s so full of herself it makes you want to vomit.’

  Jilly looked up in surprise, but said nothing as Rosa lifted her wine glass and took a sip.

  ‘Would you like some more?’ Chrissie offered, suddenly sitting forward.

  Rosa arched her eyebrows. ‘I’ve barely had three sips,’ she responded.

  Chrissie sat back again, and glanced at Richard, who smiled and stretched an arm along the sofa behind her. Considering how terrible Chrissie looked Rosa couldn’t help thinking it a miracle that Richard was still with her at all, never mind sitting so close. Her skin was puffy and grey, her hair looked dead, and her sweatshirt and jeans were so shapeless and masculine they had to be Richard’s. Of course they’d caught her on the hop, popping in unannounced like this, but it was the way Richard had wanted it, or so he’d told Jilly when he’d called. ‘Just say you were in the area,’ he’d instructed, ‘then come in and have a drink.’ Exactly what his motives were for doing things this way was anyone’s guess, because it would take some kind of genius to figure out the workings of a mind like his, but Rosa was pretty convinced that it was in some way linked to her role on There and Beyond, and an attempt to get the low-down on what was going on with Carla.

  So, ever a one to oblige, she carried on with, ‘You should see her, strutting about that place in Belgravia like she’s the one who can afford it, when everyone knows Avril Hayden is funding it … Honestly, she gets right up everyone’s nose with her airs and graces, though obviously, with her being the exec. producer we all have to kowtow and pretend to like her. Except, you know me, I’m not afraid to let her know just what I think. And it bugs her like crazy that I won’t suck up to her the way everyone else does. But I ask you, why should I, when we all know from past record that there’s no way she’d have given me that part if it weren’t for the fact that John Rossmore put his foot down and said she had to.’

  Chrissie’s smile was bland, as her eyelids blinked up and down.

  Richard’s expression remained as inscrutable as ever.

  Chrissie said, ‘How are you getting on with John Rossmore?’

  ‘Oh, he’s amazing!’ Rosa enthused. ‘You know, really easy-going, great sense of humour, really into the actors, which isn’t surprising when he’s one himself. That’s what made you such a great director, when you were doing it, or so everyone said. Of course, if Carla hadn’t blacklisted me, I’d have had first-hand experience of your talents, wouldn’t I? You know, I’m so glad you told me about that, because I always wondered why you never gave me
a part. I used to get really upset about it, didn’t I, Jilly? Especially when there’s not very much to the sketches. It just didn’t seem right, not giving a part to your friend. Anyway, like I said, John Rossmore overruled her, so it doesn’t look as though she’s going to get all her own way this time around.’

  ‘She never used to with me,’ Chrissie said. ‘Not on everything.’

  ‘Maybe not, but you still know how overbearing and pigheaded she can be when she wants. Though, credit where it’s due, she’s really getting out there and selling the programme, and she seems to work all the hours God sends. If you ask me, that programme’s the only life she has.’

  Chrissie swallowed, and her head turned briefly towards Richard, before, steeling herself, she said, ‘So she hasn’t met anyone else yet?’

  Rosa laughed nastily. ‘Only Eddie, her bloody dog. She never goes anywhere without the damned thing, and we’re all expected to make a fuss of him, and throw his flaming ball, and think he’s as irresistible as she does. I’d like to hear what she had to say if one of us wanted to bring a dog to the office, and she was expected to drool all over it. I bet it’d be a different story then.’

  ‘Eddie was her mum’s dog,’ Chrissie said, her eyes seeming very big.

  Rosa shrugged. ‘Well it’s obviously hers now. She even sleeps with the bloody thing.’

  Jilly’s head came up. ‘How do you know that?’ she demanded.

  ‘Everyone does.’

  Jilly looked sceptical. ‘And how do you know she doesn’t have a boyfriend?’ she asked.

  Rosa rolled her eyes. ‘Believe me, she doesn’t. Unless you count John Rossmore, which she’d definitely like to. Boy, has she got the hots for him. The poor guy. Everyone can see how embarrassed he is by it, but he has to play along, you know, flirt with her and stuff, because it’s what he does with everyone else, and she’s the producer, so he can’t afford to upset her, can he?’

  ‘I thought he had a reputation for being difficult and egocentric,’ Chrissie said, darting a look towards Ryan as Jilly made her squeal with laughter. ‘You’re making him sound as though he’s just the opposite.’