Strange Allure

by Susan Lewis

  Surprised by the question, Carla said, ‘No.’

  ‘Did he ever tell you whether he has the rest of the letter your mother wrote?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you did ask him?’

  Carla’s head was starting to throb. ‘Yes.’

  ‘What about him coming to the cottage? When Graham’s wife saw him. Did he ever confirm whether or not it was him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You do see where I’m going with this, don’t you? You never seriously challenge him. You get no answers, or explanations, so you make up excuses for him, and carry on in your peculiar state of delusion, which you call spiritual understanding. Now, what about actually seeing him?’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Well, you haven’t answered him yet, so is this really a case of you playing fast and loose with him?’

  Surprised Avril would think that, Carla gave the question some thought. ‘I want to see him,’ she said in the end. ‘I don’t know if it’s wise, but yes, it’s what I want.’

  ‘OK. So do as he says, name the time and the place and go. But think about this before you do: what are you expecting to come from it?’

  Carla’s eyes closed as her heart plunged into free fall.

  ‘He’s a married man …’ Avril began.

  The words were out before Carla could stop them. ‘There’s such a thing as divorce.’

  ‘But he’s not getting divorced, is he?’

  ‘You don’t know that.’

  ‘Has he said so? In any of his emails, has he ever said anything about divorce, or Chrissie, or his daughter? He hardly ever mentions them, except to use them as an excuse for not seeing you. But they’re there, and guess what, they ain’t just going away. So, let’s go back to him seeing you. What happens after you re-establish your relationship? You’ll be his mistress then, instead of Chrissie. You won’t come first, and you’ll hate it. Unless, of course, he gets you to read Rousseau’s Émile, as a way of persuading you that you can all live happily together under the same roof.’

  ‘If you’re going to be sarcastic …’

  ‘You think it’s sarcasm? Then let me tell you, from where I’m standing there seems no end to that man’s power over you, which, by the way, is more bullshit, because he’s only got power as long as you allow him to have power, but we’ll get into that another time. For now, let’s say, for argument’s sake, that he decides to leave Chrissie for you. What then?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, he’s still going to be the man who cheated on you for God knows how long with your best friend; who told so many lies we’ll probably never know even the half of them; who didn’t have the guts to tell you himself it was over; who was too spineless to give you any answers when you desperately needed them; who’s now, for all we know, considering dumping the mother of his child and maybe the child too …’

  ‘All right, all right,’ Carla said. ‘I get the point.’

  ‘Do you? Are you really in tune with how many issues you two have to resolve, and how unresolvable they actually are? Personally, I think you are, but you don’t want to face them, which is why you’re having such a hard time at the moment. You’re trying to get your head round the idea of finally cutting loose, and accepting that he’s no longer in your life. And shall I tell you something, if you don’t do it, he will.’

  Carla’s heart turned over again. ‘Why do you say that?’ she asked.

  ‘Because, in my opinion, in his own weird way, he’s having as tough a time letting go as you are, but in your hearts, or your joined-up spirits, or whatever arcane means of bonding you have, you both know you don’t really have any choice.’

  Several seconds ticked by before Carla, with some irony, said, ‘Well, I don’t feel angry any more.’

  Avril laughed. ‘I’m almost afraid to ask how you do feel.’

  ‘I might need some time to work that out.’

  Avril’s tone softened considerably then, as she said, ‘Don’t think I don’t understand. It takes a long time coming to terms with the shock of finding out someone’s betrayed you, especially the way he did it. Maybe worse is having to face the fact that all the dreams you’ve had just aren’t going to come true. Shall I tell you something? More often than not it’s the dreams we can’t let go of, not the person. So maybe it’s a good idea to see him, talk to him, and then you might very well come to realize that your dreams are already changing in ways that actually don’t include him any more.’

  Though Carla wasn’t convinced, she didn’t take issue, because, in her heart, this encouragement to see Richard was what she wanted. So all she said was, ‘You never told me you’d been in love.’

  Avril laughed. ‘I haven’t,’ she said. ‘But I’ve seen enough people go through what you’re going through now to give me some understanding of the utter turmoil it puts you in, and how afraid you are of taking the new paths life is opening up for you. So,’ she continued, ‘are you ready to name the day?’

  Carla looked around the lamplit room, at all the furniture and books that had once been theirs and now were hers. She thought of the empty office downstairs; of John and the crew in Zanzibar, and her here alone; of the last line of John’s fax, and the Karen who called him more regularly than the others; of the weekend looming ahead that offered only the cold, empty cottage in Cannock Martin, and the occasional drink at the pub before going home, alone. Then there was Christmas and New Year on the horizon, the second that Richard would spend with Chrissie instead of her … There was so much to think about, so many pictures of togetherness for others, and hours of working to escape the loneliness for her.

  So her answer to Avril was, ‘I’ll let you know when it’s going to happen,’ and after they ended their call, she opened her laptop and began composing an email. ‘Though it hasn’t always been easy deciphering your messages, and intuiting your meanings,’ she wrote, ‘I now understand how you’ve been using your knowledge of my psyche in subtly Machiavellian ways, sometimes resisting or frustrating me, often imploring or tempting me, but always guiding me gently and patiently towards the point where I am absolutely certain that I’m ready to take the next step in our journey. I’m at that point now, so I shall be at the Bluebird Café on Thursday at four.’ And when she finally clicked on the box that sent the email she was amazed to discover just how right it felt.

  At her end, Avril sat staring at the phone for some time after their call was over, wondering if she hadn’t just made the most colossal error of judgement in what was needed to wrest Carla from her delusional state. But, for God’s sake, something had to happen to start her emotional life moving forward again, and if getting some closure with Richard wasn’t it, then she truly didn’t know what was.

  ‘You didn’t mention you were going out today,’ Chrissie said.

  ‘Just over to the Groucho Club,’ Richard answered, putting a scarf on over his raincoat. ‘Ginger Buckley’s back from Sierra Leone – he was with me in the Gulf, so he’s got a starring role in that section of the book.’

  ‘How long will you be gone?’

  ‘A couple of hours, probably. If it looks like being any longer, I’ll call.’

  She gazed up into his eyes, and smiled with confidence, for she knew that her own were losing their dark shadows, even becoming blue again, and less tired. Her skin looked better too, and her hair was slowly regaining its curl as well as its shine. ‘Would you like to invite him back for dinner?’ she suggested. ‘I can get Elinor to come to the supermarket with me. Or I might try going out alone.’

  Laughing at the mischievous twinkle in her eyes, he pulled her into an embrace and said, ‘If you’re feeling up to it, then certainly I’ll ask him. Just think it over for a while, then call me on the mobile to let me know what you decide.’

  After he’d gone Chrissie remained standing in the hall, his kiss still warm on her lips, and the pleasure she felt at these few small steps of recovery glowing in her heart. This wasn’t the first t
ime he’d gone out without her feeling panicked about where he was going, or who he might be seeing, but each untroubled departure was proving a small triumph in itself. Since Rosa and Jilly had visited almost two weeks ago, there had been nothing but progress – so much so that Richard’s mood over the weekend had been buoyant to the point of reckless, when he’d swept her off her feet in the middle of the park to swing her round and round in utter joy that she’d just completed her first session of therapy. Her second appointment was booked for tomorrow, and he was coming with her. After that they’d decide as each session came up whether or not it was necessary for him to attend too.

  Wondering how she could ever have doubted his love, she took herself off to the kitchen to search out a recipe that would test her limited culinary skills to an extent that wouldn’t embarrass them both. Then, after jotting down a list of ingredients she would need, she spent a moment trying to decide whether to go to Waitrose alone, or take Elinor and Ryan with her. First, though, she should call Richard to let him know that dinner, with a guest, was on.

  ‘You’re incredible,’ he told her softly when she gave him the news.

  ‘Will you bring some wine, or do you want me to get it?’ she asked.

  ‘There’s still some Puligny in the cellar. Let’s have that.’

  ‘Good idea. But I’ve just had a thought. Do you know if Ginger’s vegetarian?’

  ‘He wasn’t the last time I saw him, but I’ll check when I get there and call you back.’

  She sat down at the kitchen table to wait, and continued flicking through her recipe books, looking out for meatless dishes that sounded appetizing and cookable, just in case.

  Half an hour later the phone rang. ‘Darling, it’s me. I’m with Ginger now, but I’m afraid he’s not free tonight.’

  Chrissie’s spirits plunged. She’d really been looking forward to attempting this hurdle, and now it had been removed the race didn’t seem worthwhile any more. ‘Oh,’ was all she said.

  ‘But I am,’ he told her, ‘and I’m not vegetarian.’

  It wasn’t the same, and her disappointment was still crushing.

  ‘Chrissie?’

  She didn’t answer.

  ‘Chrissie, we can always invite someone else. It doesn’t have to be Ginger.’

  ‘I never meet any of your colleagues,’ she said.

  ‘We can invite him another night.’ She heard a muffled voice at his end, then coming back on the line he said, ‘Ginger says that if you’re that keen to meet him he’ll cancel his arrangements and come. And he’s not a vegetarian.’

  ‘Tell him I love him already,’ she laughed, and, ringing off, she skipped up the stairs to help Elinor get Ryan ready to go out. She was feeling so exuberant, and proud of herself for wanting to entertain this much, that for one delirious moment she considered calling Carla to ask her to make up the four. What a shock that would be for Richard, but of course she’d never do it, it was just this madcap idea she had that one day they could all be friends again.

  The hum and bleat of Christmas carols drifted out of the café and market, seeming somehow to warm the chill, late afternoon air, as Carla walked slowly through the arrangements of holly, mistletoe, elaborate wreaths and twinkling lights that were laid out on the Bluebird forecourt. The traffic on the King’s Road roared past, while the delicious smell of roasting chestnuts evoked memories of when she and Richard had come here together, to shop in the exotic market that was a part of this old garage complex that had been converted into a nursery, food store, cafe and restaurant, all to serve the refined tastes of London’s elite. Here they’d purchased foods from all over the world, which they’d experimented with at home, after drinking tea or something stronger at the café.

  She’d chosen the venue because it was where he’d first asked her to move in with him. She knew he’d remember that, though he hadn’t mentioned it in the email that had come back within hours of hers being sent, telling her how relieved and happy he was to know that she was finally ready to take this next step.

  ‘I was going to ask if you’re sure,’ he’d written, ‘but I know you are, and I’m so glad that you understand the worthier machinations of Machiavelli’s mind-play. Do you understand how, in your own way, you do it to me too? The Bluebird Café at four on Thursday. We have so much to discuss and I have more forgiveness to ask than one man could ever deserve. Mais, on n’a rien pour rien.’ Nothing is had for nothing.

  She didn’t know who’d said that, nor was she entirely sure of its meaning in this context, though she suspected it was his way of saying that unless he asked her forgiveness he could never hope to attain it. Would she give it? Maybe she already had, though she knew very well that the wound still burning inside her, dimmed by nerves at present, was apt to flare into anger at any moment, and was likely to make this meeting even harder than she already feared it would be.

  After she was shown to a corner table in the café, where a dozen or so Christmas shoppers had come in from the cold to sip hot chocolate and indulge themselves in cake, she ordered a cappuccino and stared out at the dismal, darkening afternoon. When he arrived, she would see him before he saw her. The mere thought of it twisted the knots in her stomach. This was how she had been since she’d got his email, unable to eat, or concentrate, or even sleep very much. She was glad John was away, he was too much of a distraction while she had this on her mind.

  A waitress brought her coffee, asked if she wanted anything else, then went away.

  Carla stirred the chocolate into the foam, and looked out to where a young couple in long black overcoats and light-coloured scarves were pondering over which Christmas tree to buy. This was where she and Richard had bought the exquisite blue pine for their first Christmas together. They’d decorated it entirely in silver. She felt suddenly strange as a horrible scenario came into her head, of him insisting on buying a tree today, for him and Chrissie and their baby, and asking her to help him choose it.

  Looking around the brightly lit room she wondered what on earth she was doing here. Her nerves were so stretched now that her feelings were far closer to fear, as she began desperately to wish she hadn’t come. Avril was right, there would be no going back after this, and she had no idea of the way forward. All she could see, as she sat here waiting, was more disruption at a time when it could do most damage, more heartache when she was finally starting to get over the last, and the total betrayal of her colleagues for even attempting this emotional minefield when they’d made their commitment to a programme that was hers. She pressed her fingers to her lips as the horrible nightmare of how she had suffered before swept through her with a frightening clarity, reminding her of just how devastated, and even deranged, she had been. She couldn’t take that chance again. Not right now. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him, or even that she expected it to be that bad again, it was simply that the risk was still too great, when her responsibilities were so pressing. It was already four fifteen and the fear that he was going to stand her up was pulsing so hard through her head that she had to get out now, before the rejection became real and prevented her being able to tell herself later that there was a chance she’d let him down instead of the other way round.

  By the time her taxi pulled up outside the ménage she’d drawn breath a hundred times to tell the driver to turn round and take her back. But she was here now, paying the fare, and bracing herself to face whoever was inside.

  Mercifully no-one seemed to notice anything odd about her, and why would they when she looked exactly the same as when she’d left? Taking off her coat, greeting Eddie and turning on her computer was about as normal as her work day got. She went straight online, expecting to find an email explaining why he hadn’t made it, but there were no new messages waiting. Quickly she typed in her own message, apologizing for not waiting – she had to do that in case he had turned up, and the waitress accurately described her – but she’d just rushed over there to tell him that something urgent had come up, which meant she h
ad to go and join the crew on the recce. One of the best things about the email, no-one ever knew where you were!

  His reply came the following morning, by which time she’d spent a near sleepless night trying to decide whether she was an appalling coward for running off like that, or one of the planet’s most professional women for putting her programme first. She guessed it hardly mattered now it was done. However, when she read that he’d arrived at four twenty, after getting snarled up in traffic and calling the café to let her know he’d be late, only to find she hadn’t waited, she not only felt calmer, she also, surprisingly, felt she had been right to leave.

  Of course, she was annoyed with the waitress for not passing the message on, but this morning the relief she felt at having no catastrophe to deal with was so overwhelming, it made a mockery of her belief that she was ready to see him. So in answer to his request that she set another time and date as soon as she returned from the recce, she rather cruelly said.

  ‘It seems destiny was not with us yesterday, though I still feel as secure in the mystery of its plan as I do in your love. Of course we shall meet, we both know that, it’s what we want, so if need be we shall coerce the fates into making it happen. Nothing can stop me wishing you were with me now, and the stronger I wish it the more I feel it. I hope you’re feeling it too, and will still be as eager to see me when I return as I know I will be to see you.’

  Yes, that was definitely one of the better aspects of the email – that no-one ever knew exactly where you were.

  Chapter 17

  WITH THE CREW’S return from Zanzibar everything shifted into a much higher gear, as preparations for the January departure had to be finalized before the Christmas break. Two more researchers were brought on board to help with the setting up of the rest of the series, while Carla concentrated on roughing out the scripts, furthering deals with various travel companies and apportioning the budgets accordingly. She was also becoming heavily involved in a search for the right web-site designers in order to take the company online, and was booked to attend an e-commerce conference in Geneva, with Avril, immediately after the New Year holiday. This meant that she and Avril would arrive in Zanzibar a couple of days after the crew, but Avril was insistent that Carla had to be at that conference, since the future of interactive TV was on the agenda, and Avril didn’t want Carla to be running down the track, attempting to leap on board, after the train had left the station.