by Susan Lewis
He looked up from the book he was reading. ‘Ah, my turn in the bathroom,’ he said, throwing back the sheets. ‘Your nightcap’s on the dressing-table.’
‘Thank you.’ Her voice was hoarse, and her legs wobbled as she walked. In case he was naked she kept her eyes averted, but caught his reflection in the mirror as he went out of the door, and seeing that he wore his shorts she didn’t know whether she was disappointed or glad. But the dark hair on his thighs affected her so severely that it took the rigidity from her knees and she sat down, clutching the brandy and shivering.
When he reappeared, smelling of toothpaste, he got back into bed. Then, reaching across and throwing open the sheets on her bed, he said, ‘Come along, you’ll freeze sitting there. And as I said, I’m not going to molest you.’
She walked to the bed and climbed in. In all her life she’d never felt quite so strange.
He picked up her hand and kissed it. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
She nodded. Then a few seconds later she whispered his name.
When she didn’t continue, he took her chin and turned her to face him. ‘What is it?’
For a long time she looked at him, not really knowing what she wanted to say, except to let him know that she was glad he was there. But it seemed so trite, and in the end she lowered her eyes and shook her head.
He leaned over and touched her mouth with his. Then pulling back the sheets on his bed he said, ‘Come here. Get in beside me and let me hold you.’
When all she did was stare at him with confused, wide eyes, he smiled. ‘I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to,’ he said. ‘I only want you to feel safe in my arms.’
She moved awkwardly, then her foot caught in the hem of her nightgown and she tumbled against him. She wanted to cry with humiliation. But he laughed, and turning her round, settled her head on his shoulder. ‘Just think,’ he said, kissing the tip of her nose, ‘now we can tell everyone that you literally fell into bed with me.’
A bubble of laughter collided with a sob, and suddenly she was so happy that she put an arm round his neck and lifted her face to kiss him.
‘Don’t push your luck,’ he said, unwinding himself, ‘I’m only flesh and blood after all. And you’re becoming more desirable by the minute.’
He turned off the light and she lay back in his arms, sighing contentedly as the tension ebbed from her body. For now it was enough just to be with him like this, and to know that when she found the courage to tell him she was ready, he would be too.
In the sitting-room Madeleine lay staring up at the ceiling, her breathing quickened by fury. Her only consolation was that any minute now, if Marian adhered to her instructions, she would hear Paul O’Connell howl with pain.
But it didn’t happen; in fact, once the sliver of light from under the bedroom door had disappeared she heard nothing at all. This reassured her a little, but it was still a long time before she fell asleep.
The next morning she found Marian in the kitchen making breakfast, humming along to the radio and practically skipping between the toaster and the kettle. One look at her face was enough to tell Madeleine that despite the silence, something had happened between Marian and Paul the night before, and she swept out of the kitchen, mumbling that she didn’t want any breakfast. She headed straight into the bedroom, remembering too late that Paul was in there.
He was standing beside the wardrobe, but turned round as she came in, doing nothing to conceal his nudity. His face registered only mild surprise when he saw it was her, and then he laughed quietly as her eyes flew to his penis, at the same time taking in the firmness of his thighs, the clutch of black pubic hair, and the hard muscles of his abdomen.
‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, experiencing a rare embarrassment, but when she made to close the door he said:
‘What’s the matter, Madeleine? You’ve seen a naked man before, so why are you running away?’
‘I’m not running away,’ she hissed. ‘For all I care, you can walk around naked all day long.’
He grinned. ‘I expect you’d like that, wouldn’t you?’
‘It makes no difference to me what you do.’
‘What’s the matter, have you lost your nerve now Marian’s around? If you care to look again, you’ll see you’re having something of an effect on me.’
Unable to stop herself, she looked at his hardening penis. Under her scrutiny it grew further still, until slowly she started to smile. Then looking back at his face, she said, ‘Well, you know who you can stick that up, don’t you,’ and she flounced out of the room.
His explosion of laughter annoyed her, but the fact that she’d given him an erection was what really mattered. And the very morning after he’d first slept with Marian, too! So her little plan of forcing them into bed together had worked after all. Obviously Marian hadn’t satisfied him – he’d made that more than plain. Well, if he thought she was going to drop her knickers now that it suited him, he could think again. She’d get him on the run a bit before she gave in, she might even try and get him to beg.
Over the following weekend Madeleine’s mood fluctuated between depression and elation. The problem was that since their short encounter in the bedroom, Paul had behaved as though nothing had happened, almost as if she didn’t exist. In her better moments she managed to convince herself that it was because Marian was always around, and he was just biding his time. But in her worst moments she hated her cousin with such bitterness that she could barely be civil to her.
Then on Monday Matthew Cornwall arrived. They knew he was there because a package arrived for him, by hand, which Marian carried up the stairs. The man who answered the door told her that Matthew was on the phone, so he had taken the package. Then Marian dashed up the stairs to tell Madeleine.
In her excitement and eagerness to cheer her cousin up, she didn’t notice how pinched Madeleine’s face was. Paul was at his typewriter where she’d left him, and dropping a kiss on his head, she spun round and grasped Madeleine’s hands. ‘He’s here!’ she cried. ‘He’s downstairs now.’
‘Who?’ Paul asked, looking up.
‘Matthew Cornwall, of course.’ She turned back to Madeleine. ‘I brought a parcel up for him,’ she explained. ‘I’d have invited him up for a drink there and then, but he was on the phone when I knocked. I caught a glimpse of him, though. He’s really good-looking, Maddy! Anyway, what do you think? Shall we write him a note?’
Madeleine looked at Paul, but he was laughing at Marian’s enthusiasm. ‘Give the man a chance,’ he said. ‘If he’s only just got here, then . . .’
‘Oh, don’t go all cautious on me,’ Marian cried. ‘We’ve got to do this for Madeleine. I know, you go down and invite him . . . Oh Paul!’ she groaned, when he held up his hands and started to shake his head.
‘I’m having nothing to do with this conspiracy,’ he said, and circling Marian’s waist, he pulled her onto his lap. ‘Now, how about a proper kiss when you come in the door?’ he demanded.
Marian shot a look at Madeleine. She hadn’t missed her cousin’s looks of desolation, even malice, when Paul kissed her lately. But Madeleine had turned away and was already walking out of the door. Only then did Marian realise that Madeleine hadn’t spoken a word since she’d returned. She turned to Paul. ‘What’s wrong? Did you two have a row while I was out?’
‘No,’ he answered. And before she could ask any more he tore a piece of paper from his typewriter and told her to read it.
He found Madeleine in the kitchen. ‘Well,’ he said, filling the kettle, ‘the man’s arrived, so what are you going to do now?’
‘That’s my business.’
‘Not more than ten minutes ago you were threatening to have sex with him to make me jealous.’
‘Would it?’
He turned to look at her, surprised by the note of uncertainty in her voice when only moments before Marian walked in she had sneeringly informed him that he could drive himself mad thinking about what she w
as going to do with Matthew Cornwall. Now her lovely violet eyes looked sad, and realising that perhaps he’d gone too far in teasing her, he swallowed the sarcastic remark he’d been about to make and said, ‘It might.’ It was a lie, but he knew it was important to Madeleine to have her sexuality confirmed.
A contemptuous smile suddenly warped her mouth. ‘Well, I hope you fucking rot with it,’ she said, and pulling herself upright, she stalked out of the kitchen.
Not knowing what to do next, she decided to consult Jackie and Sharon. They met at Sharon’s flat in Henleaze.
‘If I were you I’d go for it,’ Jackie said. ‘I mean, what have you got to lose? A bit of rumpy-pumpy with Matthew Cornwall and all your problems could be solved.’
‘How?’
‘In the first place he might give you a part in the film he’s doing, or at the very least put you in touch with some influential people; and in the second, Paul’s admitted it would make him jealous. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ Madeleine answered slowly. ‘But making him jealous doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll dump Marian.’
‘If you can get some decent contacts out of Matthew Cornwall,’ Sharon said, ‘or even better, get him to cast you in his film, then Paul O’Connell will be eating out of your hand.’
‘How do you work that out?’
‘What’s the most important thing to Paul? His writing. If you were to become famous you could open all sorts of doors for him, and he’ll see that in less time than it’ll take you to get Matthew Cornwall in the sack.’
Madeleine wasn’t too sure about that, in fact her self-confidence had waned to an all-time low over the past few weeks. That men were still calling her up all the time, that heads turned whenever she walked into a room, even that she’d managed to give Paul an erection, didn’t matter; she still hadn’t been able to get him away from Marian. And if Paul was managing to resist her, what was to say that Matthew Cornwall couldn’t too?
She didn’t voice her reservations, but went home to mull them over in her own time. But as she walked upstairs to the flat, Marian came rushing in behind her, waving an envelope and shouting, ‘I’ve got it! I’ve got it! I’ve got it!’
‘Got what?’ Madeleine asked, watching Marian’s face and feeling her heart turn over with a painful combination of envy, love and incredulity. Sure, Marian did look a whole lot better these days, but what did a man like Paul see in her?
‘The surprise I told you about,’ Marian answered, and she ran on ahead, telling Madeleine to hurry up if she wanted to find out what it was.
‘OK, are you ready?’ Marian asked five minutes later. The three of them were in the sitting-room, Paul at his typewriter, Madeleine perched on the arm of the sofa and Marian beside the table. Her eyes were glittering, and as she looked at Paul he laughed and pulled her into his lap.
‘What are you up to?’ he murmured, giving her a squeeze and brushing his lips against her hair.
Madeleine coughed loudly, then said, ‘If you don’t mind, there are other people in the room. And I’ve been waiting almost a week to find out what this surprise is, so shall we get on with it?’ In fact, she’d forgotten all about it, but now she was intrigued enough to have pushed her problems to the back of her mind – at least until she knew what Marian was up to.
‘Sorry,’ Marian said, turning to look at her. Then remembering that she wanted to see Paul’s face when she told them, she moved across the room and stood in front of the fire.
Both Madeleine and Paul watched as she tore open the envelope she was holding and, with a theatrical flourish of her arm, produced three air tickets. ‘We are going to Rome!’ she announced.
Madeleine and Paul stared at her, dumbfounded, and she burst out laughing. Madeleine was the first to recover her senses and pounced on the obvious question. ‘Where the hell did you get the money?’
There was a flash of discomfort in Marian’s eyes before she answered. ‘I cashed in an insurance policy,’ she lied. She didn’t want to tell them how, after being turned down for a loan at the bank – who had asked her to hand over her cheque card while she was there – she had gone to a finance company in Horfield and managed to wheedle the money out of them. ‘I got fifteen hundred pounds,’ she said, ‘and I thought, to hell with the bills, we could all do with a holiday. So, my loves, we are going for a long weekend in Rome.’
Paul was shaking his head, knowing she had done it for him. He walked over to her and took her face between his hands. His eyes looked searchingly into hers, and then he whispered, ‘I love you, Marian Deacon.’
‘I love you too,’ she breathed, and suddenly she was crying.
‘Oh God!’ Madeleine muttered, but managed to restrain herself from going any further. But as she watched his fingers run through Marian’s hair, his lips cover Marian’s, her heart started to pound, and before she could stop herself she screamed and ran from the room.
Tearing herself away, Marian rushed after her. ‘Maddy! Maddy! What is it?’ she cried, but Madeleine slammed the bathroom door in her face. ‘For God’s sake, let me in!’ Marian shouted, rattling the handle and banging on the door. But Madeleine couldn’t answer. Her voice was engulfed by sobs and tears of desperation coursed down her face. ‘Why?’ her heart was crying. ‘Why doesn’t he love me?’
Marian knocked again and again until in the end Paul came to get her. ‘Leave her,’ he said. ‘She’ll come out when she’s ready.’
Marian looked bewildered, but at the same time, as they went into the kitchen she’d already guessed what was wrong. ‘We shouldn’t flaunt things in her face like this,’ she said quietly. ‘More than anything else in the world she wants a boyfriend, someone who really loves her. She’d never admit it, but it means even more to her than being famous. She’s lonely, and the way she carries on with men is all an act to cover it up. She’s always been terrified of being ignored. It’s why I got her a ticket to come to Rome with us. I couldn’t leave her behind. You don’t mind, do you?’
‘Of course not.’
‘You’re so wonderful to me,’ Marian whispered. ‘I wish she could find someone too.’
Paul shrugged. ‘Who knows, maybe this Matthew Cornwall could be the answer to all her prayers. Now, about Rome.’
Marian held up her hands. ‘No, I know what you’re going to say. That it’s very generous of me, you’ll be grateful ‘til the end of your days, but you can’t accept.’
He nodded.
‘Which is why I bought non-refundable tickets, so now you have to go whether you like it or not.’
He threw back his head, then laughing, he scooped her into his arms, lifting her right off the floor. ‘I like it,’ he said. As he put her down again he noticed that her cheeks had turned pink and she wasn’t able to look at him. ‘What’s on your mind?’ he asked. And when her face turned an even deeper red and she started to wipe down the draining board, he smiled, quickly understanding what she wanted to say but couldn’t quite find the courage for. ‘A kind of honeymoon?’ he suggested, and she turned her head to one side, pursing her lips with shy laughter.
Using his fingers to bring her face round to his, he leaned forward and touched his lips against hers. At first the kiss was so gentle she could barely feel more than his breath, then slowly his arms encircled her and he pushed his tongue deep into her mouth.
When he pulled away she clung to him, knowing that her legs were too weak to support her. ‘Something tells me you rather liked that,’ he whispered. His eyes were soft and teasing, and a gurgle of laughter escaped her reddened mouth.
‘I wish I could buy you a trousseau,’ he said, still holding her against him and pushing the hair back from her face. ‘But then, that flannelette nightie just drives me wild!’
He yelped as she kicked him, and spinning out of his arms, she said, ‘For that you can have the single room and Madeleine and I will share the double.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ he said. ‘And now I’m off to the librar
y to give you and Madeleine a chance to talk.’
‘You’re too bloody perfect for words,’ Marian quipped, and as she helped him on with his coat she wanted to tell him she loved him again, but was too afraid she might be overdoing it. She walked downstairs with him, on the pretext of seeing if there was any afternoon mail, but really in the hope he would kiss her like that again. But he gave her no more than a fleeting peck on the lips, and left her clutching a red telephone bill.
She was surprised to find Madeleine in the kitchen when she went back upstairs, and unsure what to say, she hovered in the doorway, watching as Madeleine poured wine into two glasses, then turned and handed her one. ‘I’m sorry, Marian,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what came over me. I suppose it’s the thought of losing you.’
‘You’re not going to lose me,’ Marian answered, taking the glass and following Madeleine into the sitting room. ‘Nothing’s going to change. The three of us will stay together, and then when you meet someone, well, there’ll be four of us.’
Madeleine fell back on the sofa. ‘I can’t come to Rome, Marian. I . . .’
‘I’m sorry, but you have to,’ Marian interrupted. ‘As I told Paul, the tickets are non-refundable, and besides, I want you to be there. Now, I’ve hidden the brochure in the bedroom so let’s have a look at the hotel. And I’ve had another idea, too. Why don’t we open an account at Debenham’s or John Lewis and buy ourselves some clothes to take with us?’
Madeleine’s face was an amusing combination of exasperation and misery. ‘There’s no stopping you, is there?’ she said as Marian laughed. Then her eyes lit up. ‘Ten thousand pounds!’ she challenged.
‘Ten?’ Marian scoffed. ‘Two hundred thousand pounds!’
She shrieked as Madeleine pinched her, and cried, ‘A Mercedes sports car for me and a Reliant Robin for you!’
‘A mansion for me with a shed at the end of the garden for you,’ Madeleine countered.
‘A tropical island for me and one acre of the Pacific for you.’
