by Flora Dain
His eyes flickered. ‘Me too. I couldn’t resist seeing Eldon doing his stuff.’
We touched fingers briefly and discreetly and then I showed him to a seat near the front. He grinned at Eldon, already busy with his camera. His brother responded with a cheerful thumbs-up and now my cup was filled to overflowing.
Drama teaching doesn’t get any better than this.
As the scene plays on I relax. It’s going really well. The extra hush and the crowded hall have charged the atmosphere with electricity. I’m thrilled for the students. The air crackles with tension, like we’re in a real theatre.
As they reach the moment where the lovers kiss we’re all spellbound. This scene is a masterpiece – tender and beautiful. I’m so proud of them I feel a lump in my throat. The two leads are truly touching. I hear several sniffles from the audience.
As the scene ends there’s a new noise in the hushed silence. Someone’s whistling a catchy tune from everybody’s childhood.
It’s the jingle for the famous popcorn candy that most people here ate as kids.
‘Korn Kraik, Korn Kraik
Makes you laugh, makes you ache
Take a bite, take a break
Take a treat with Korn Kraik’
We all go into freeze-frame. Now a throng of merry students rush up on stage and join in, throwing their baseball caps in the air and waving to camera.
Someone starts singing and soon the jingle’s echoing all round the hall. The pandemonium on stage is almost drowned out by the roar of applause from the audience.
They think it’s part of the show. Eldon’s getting it all on film, grinning behind his camera as he captures this edgy, impromptu piece of avant-garde theatre, and all at once he bounds up onto the stage, camera lowered. He raises his hand for silence.
‘Hi, everybody. I’m the cameraman. I’m also the director, creative director and producer.’ He pauses for effect, one eyebrow arched in a quirky boy-band grin that instantly captivates the audience. ‘And I was whistling the theme tune too.’
Everyone laughs.
‘In fact one day, maybe, I’ll be some of those things for real. But today I just wanted to say these kids are amazing.’
The audience cheers wildly, like we’re at an awards ceremony already. He holds up his hand again. ‘I’m making a promotional piece for the Academy, to show off some of the great things going on here.’ He pauses for more applause. ‘But this scene’s so good I might even use it in something bigger. How about a full-length feature, say, about a control-freak who takes over a family and makes their lives a misery? Cape Fear with popcorn, anybody? This balcony scene would make a terrific opener. And if I ever get to make it – in both senses, guys, your call – you’ll all be stars. So crack open the popcorn, folks, and wish me luck.’
More applause and cheers. High-fives all round. Everybody thinks it’s a hoot.
Everybody except one.
Darnley strides out of the room. There’s a loud crash as he slams the door behind him.
CHAPTER NINE
I race out into the street but Darnley’s car is already pulling away. I stand in the road gazing after it until an angry driver honks at me and I leap for the sidewalk.
Keep calm. Call him. I can talk him through this.
I’m still in shock. The enormity of what I’ve seen is still sinking in. The only mercy is that no one else here knows what it means. Eldon just thinks it’s funny. He’s far too young to remember clearly. And from what Darnley’s told me he never even knew what was going on. Darnley’s spent most of his life keeping it hidden. Maybe it’s just coincidence that he said all that – a spur-of-the-moment thing. Eldon was just eight at the time. He knew nothing back then about Lydia’s past – he could barely have known Darnley’s step-mother at all – or how Kraik used it to gain control of the family. Darnley apart, Kraik’s real poison was aimed at the adults. Teasing Darnley was just a sideshow. But Eldon must have seen their tormentor around the place, seen how people reacted to him. Children pick up the vibes.
I hurry back into the building against the flow of milling students. They’re off home now and still talking in excited groups about the movie.
I’ll find Eldon and ask him why he did that. There’ll be a perfectly simple reason. Then I’ll call Darnley and we’ll clear this up.
But Eldon’s gone. I’ll have to catch him tomorrow.
I snatch my phone and jab in Darnley’s private number.
‘Wolfe.’
I frown. I hardly ever call him – I know he’s always on business, but he never answers me like this. I show up on his display so he knows it’s me. Maybe he’s busy. ‘Darnley?’
I wait. Nothing happens. After a few seconds the signal blanks.
Damn. This is no time for my phone to play possum. I try again but once more the call fails. Exasperated, I thrust it in my pocket and join the remains of the audience still in the hall. Some of the senior staff members are still here, mulling over their success.
‘Who’d have thought we’d one day be in a movie?’
‘What price an Oscar, you guys?’
‘Ella, that was terrific. You’ll really put us on the map.’ The Principal’s especially pleased.
They leave slowly, their praises ringing in my ears. The sound is hollow.
Finally I head home. As I walk out through the Academy gates I call him again, hoping he’s cooled off. This time the signal cuts before he even answers. I stare at the phone in obstinate fury and all at once it hits me: he’s refusing to talk.
A slow chill spreads through me. I daren’t even think how he must be feeling right now. All I know is I have to be with him.
As I cross the next street a long, sleek car draws up beside me and a window slides down. At last. But it’s not Darnley. It’s his driver.
I see Bullen every day. We were almost friends. Now he blanks me like we never met.
‘Mr Wolfe says he can spare you a few moments now, ma’am. Or you can make an appointment.’
Shock almost robs me of speech. I take a deep breath and try to look dignified. ‘Thank you, Bullen. Now would be fine.’ I wait as he gets out and walks round the back of the car to open the passenger door closest to me, and then I clamber in.
Darnley’s here. With a sigh of relief I collapse onto the seat next to his and pause, waiting for Bullen to get behind the steering wheel and pull away into the traffic.
Nothing happens. My door is shut but Bullen’s standing next to it, looking away from us with his arms folded.
We’re going nowhere, in both senses.
Darnley eyes me from the far end of the seat, his eyes cold. ‘Well?’
Fear clutches my stomach.
His voice is remote, his expression steely. ‘I suppose you think that was funny?’
‘Of course not. Nothing like that happened in the rehearsals. I’d no idea he was planning a thing like that. It was as much a shock to us as it was to you. He –’
‘Please.’
I’m gabbling. In a bid to calm down I breathe deep and start again, more slowly. I keep my voice low. ‘Darnley, I’m so sorry. I’ll talk to him tomorrow and see if I can –’ I tail off at his furious expression. ‘Better still, why not call him now? There’ll be a perfectly simple –’
His eyes have narrowed to slits. ‘Have you any idea what you’ve done? You must have put him up to this. He’d never have come up with that kind of scenario unless somebody suggested it. You seriously think it was funny?’
He’s almost quivering with suppressed rage. All at once he seizes my wrists, still sore from our heady weekend session. He grips them painfully in one hand, his eyes burning. When I whimper and try to pull away he holds me fast, twisting his fingers cruelly on my skin, the power of his fist crushing my wristbones together like a vice. Pain shoots up my arms.
‘Stop it, Darnley. That hurts. What are you doing?’
His voice rasps, his chest heaving now. ‘Yell all you like. No one can hear you. Sure i
t hurts. It hurts like hell. And that’s not all that hurts when you’re eight. You’ve got your pride, even then. If it had happened to you maybe you’d know just how funny it really was. And let’s not even start on how it may affect the family if any of this gets out. It’s not just me, Ella. It’s all of us on the line here.’ He releases my wrists with an angry thrust.
I rub them, wincing a little. I stare at him in alarm.
His eyes burn into mine. ‘But believe me, Ella, however bad it hurt then was nothing compared to how much it hurts now. You, of all people.’
He turns away to stare out of the window, his profile like stone. I try to speak – to tell him I’m desperately sorry, that I love him and that I want to help him. No words come.
And all at once it’s too late. He’s already glancing at his watch. Beside me the car door has swung open and Bullen is waiting for me to get out.
The audience is at an end. And by the looks of it, so are we.
So this is how he dumps his women. Not with a damp, fresh-washed blonde drifting through his mansion draped in a towel. Not with a wisp of lace flung on a multi-million dollar painting.
He simply cuts a signal.
I walk home slowly, wishing for once I’d brought the car. I haven’t used it in a while, since I first stepped into his weird wealthy fairyland where I get chauffeured everywhere.
From now on I guess I’ll be driving myself.
It’s a long walk. This morning I was so happy it took no time at all. Tonight it takes for ever.
I’m weary when I get in, too tired to eat, too listless to open wine. I uncap a fizzy fruit drink and walk over to the window to draw the crisp white shades Billy’s fond dad installed in her tiny apartment. Before I do it I gaze at my reflection in the glass, not really seeing it.
I still have to apologise, somehow. I reach for my phone and jab at Darnley’s number before I remember he’s not talking. With a sigh I start a long, emotional text, stabbing at the keypad in a fury, and press ‘send’.
As I look up I see a movement in the shadows across the street and a woman steps out from behind a gatepost.
It’s her. This time she knows it’s me. She’s looking straight at me.
She was waiting for me.
My phone rings. Automatically I lift it to my ear.
‘Ella?’
Darnley’s voice sounds in my ear but I’m not listening.
I’m staring in fascinated horror at the woman. Now I get a good look at her I take in tiny details I’d missed: tired skin, dusty-looking from a poor diet, dry and patchy from poor skincare. A sharp-looking woman, older than I am. She verges on trailer-trash, flashily dressed in shabby boots, tight jeans and a cheap pink jacket edged with fake fur. She’s chewing gum.
I shake myself. It’s just coincidence … ‘I – I’ll call you back. It’s that woman. She –’ I break off. The woman is preparing to cross the road. She’s waiting for a gap in the traffic. She’s coming here.
I freeze.
‘Ella? What about her?’
His voice is louder now but I’m watching her. I must be hallucinating; after everything that’s happened today, now this?
‘I – I …’ My throat’s seized up. Oh, no. Please God, no. Not now.
I stare at the woman as she walks slowly towards me, her eyes fixed on my face. I’m in a bad dream. I’m on a phone, I’m paralysed with fear and I can’t talk.
‘Ella. What the …? Are you home? Is she in the room?’
I open and close my mouth but nothing comes out. I lower the phone as I realise the street’s empty.
She’s already here. She must be in the building.
I shove the phone down into my pocket and race round the apartment, double-checking all the locks. Then in a panic I race round again and check the windows.
I should call the police.
But what can I say to them? That I may have a stalker? That I’m a scaredy-cat teacher who hyperventilates at the sight of somebody in the street simply because she’s just broken her lover’s heart by staging some skewed Shakespeare that went all wrong?
And suppose I still can’t say anything?
I lean my head on the glass and try not to listen to the fists banging on the door. That must be her.
I close my eyes. How will she do it? With a gun? With a knife? Maybe she’s got a scarf or a rope and she’ll grab me from behind …
‘Ella, it’s me. Let me in.’
There’s a crash behind me as the door bursts into the room. I still can’t move.
My eyes snap open and behind me, reflected in the glass, I see Darnley’s face. He spins me round and scowls down at me. He touches my cheek with the back of his finger. ‘Hey. You’re icy. Look at me, Ella. You saw her again?’
I nod, still paralysed.
Now the room is filling up with people. Someone switches on the lights and I blink in the glare.
Darnley starts barking orders to his men, his eyes still fixed on mine. ‘Scour the yard at the back. Check the fire escape. She may be on the roof.’
‘A woman climbed over the back wall, sir. She ran off. No sign of her now.’
‘Bullen?’
‘Sir?’
‘Miss Dean is in shock. Take her back to Lexington and make her a hot drink. I’ll finish up here.’
About twenty minutes later I’m sitting in his vast, steel-lined kitchen and clinging to a cup of hot, sweet tea. Speech is coming slowly back. I even manage to whisper a shy ‘thank you’ as Bullen presses the steaming drink into my hands.
I stare across the room, not really seeing anything.
I want to go somewhere dark and quiet and hide.
Outside a purring engine and the slam of a car door announce Darnley. He strides in and dismisses Bullen with a curt nod.
Now we’re alone.
‘You’re a terrible colour.’
‘Sorry about that,’ I mutter. ‘No time to change it.’ I avoid his eye and take a sip, courage seeping back with the heat of the tea. ‘Can I go home now?’
He draws in a deep breath. ‘Not for a while. She got away. She may be back. I stationed a man there while we change the locks.’ His eyes gleam. ‘Should take a day or two.’
Slowly I raise my eyes to his, my heart shorn of hope. His words in the car have cut me deep. I’m still stunned. ‘Thanks for the rescue. I’m sorry I panicked. I’ll finish my tea and then find a hotel.’
He looks down at me critically for a moment. Very gently, like I’m made of glass, he prises the empty cup out of my hands and sets it down on the table. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll stay here.’ His voice is low.
‘I can’t do that.’ I can feel his eyes on me and now I start to shiver. I stare obstinately down at the table. I must look dreadful with my sweat-matted hair, pinched grey face and work-tired clothes. It’s been a weird day.
He raises me to my feet, folding his arms around me and locking his hands together at the back of my waist. I shiver again and he clasps me tighter.
‘You’re moving in. Stay here till we get to the bottom of this.’
Feeling’s seeping back into my limbs and at last it reaches my brain; a little late in the day, but just in time to mount a protest. ‘Here? I don’t even know where we are. And tomorrow I’ve got to go to work. I’ve got to talk to –’
I break off. Best not remind him.
His expression is stern as his eyes lock on mine. ‘OK, fine. You can go to work, provided you follow my instructions. And tomorrow I’ll explain where you are and we’ll work out your timetable and when and how you travel in and out of town and who goes with you. I’ll even show you a fucking map. But right now you’re going to bed.’
He takes me upstairs and runs a bath, keeping his arm round me the whole time. I’m getting better by the minute. I laugh a little as I wriggle to get away.
‘Hold still. You’re not going anywhere.’ He’s not playing. He sounds grim.
‘I can’t just move in, Darnley.’
&nb
sp; ‘No? Why not?’ He turns off the faucet and tips in some bath essence. A strong aroma of lilies wafts all around us in the drifts of steam. Now he releases my waist and starts to unfasten my jeans, his fingers urgent, his eyes filling with heat.
He still sounds angry. ‘It’s a no-brainer. You get full-time protection and I get plenty of sex.’
I lift my chin. ‘Who says?’
He starts to drop tiny kisses all over my face, deft little touches of his lips that lure me into a long, sensuous sigh long before I ought to give him permission.
His scowl is so like his brother’s I have to smile.
He glares back. ‘You do. All the time. Every time you look at me, every time you move. When you’re around I can’t think of anything else. When you’re not around I can’t think of anything else. Anyway, it’s easier to look after you if I know where you are twenty-four-seven. Saves on food. Saves on electricity. Better for the environment. Healthier all round. Now get in the damn bath.’
My bath is hot in every sense. He leans over me, washing me with gel-smeared hands, making me kneel up, bend over, lean back so his fingers can reach into every cranny and hidden crevice of my tired, aching body. His touch is so soothing and at the same time so infuriatingly arousing that I’m aching for him when I finally rise to my feet, suds running off me in rills. Before reaching for the towel he runs his thumbs down over my breasts, my thighs and my belly to skim off the water.
When I step out he places my hands gently on his flies. I bite my lip in excitement as I learn my bath requires a small token of thanks – and quickly I free him and kneel to bestow it. But first his hand knits deep into my wet, tangled hair and pulls my head back out of reach of his surging, twitching manhood, looming before me, eager for my mouth.
‘You want this, Ella?’
I lower my eyelids, impatient now. ‘You want it in writing?’
His eyes flicker. ‘I just want to be sure. I’ve no right to force you. You’ve had a shock.’
I smile and kiss his crown with a light, reverent touch of my lips. The skin feels taut and smooth. I feel a tingle of sparkling lust in my eager mouth. At the same time I sense an answering twitch in his jutting shaft.
