by Susan Lewis
‘I told you,’ she was saying, ‘I’ve done a lot of thinking, and I realize now that Luke is never going to be faithful. It’s just something in him I’m going to have to condition myself to live with.’
‘Oh Annalise,’ Corrie groaned. ‘Why should you do that when there are so many men out there who would be faithful? Who would love you every bit as much as you deserve to be loved, and who would treat you the way you should be treated.’
‘But they’re not Luke, are they?’
Corrie turned to face her, and lifting a hand to stroke her hair, said, ‘Annalise, I know this is going to hurt you, that it’ll hurt a great deal, but I have to tell you so that perhaps you’ll start to understand what he’s really like. Before I left Los Angeles this morning, Luke asked me to marry him.’
To her amazement Annalise simply nodded. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘He told me. He asked you to try to make me jealous. He thought it would bring me back to him.’
Corrie turned away quickly before Annalise saw the fury in her eyes. The bastard! she was thinking to herself. He tells her everything, he never lies and because of it Corrie could see that she was never going to get through to Annalise. Well damn it, she wasn’t going to give up yet.
‘I think there’s something wrong with Luke,’ she said bluntly. ‘I mean seriously wrong. I think his mind is disturbed.’
‘Isn’t everyone’s, one way or another?’
‘Annalise!’ Corrie cried, barely able to resist the urge to shake her. ‘Ask yourself, just ask yourself rationally, who in their right mind would do the things he does?’
‘I don’t see that he does anything so out of the ordinary,’ Annalise answered. ‘All right, sometimes he might, and I know he gets some very odd moods every now and again, but don’t we all?’
Corrie turned away in exasperation.
‘Come on,’ Annalise said, taking her by the arm, ‘you’re getting angry now, and I don’t want anything to spoil these two days, so let’s walk on around the pier and talk about something else, shall we?’
Realizing that for now she was beaten Corrie allowed herself to be dragged away for more shopping and sightseeing. It wasn’t until much later in the evening, when they were sitting in McCormick & Kuleto’s sipping white wine and tucking into the most succulent mussels, that Corrie broached the subject again.
‘What do your parents think of your relationship with Luke?’ she asked, as Annalise dipped her fingers in the lemon water.
There was just the briefest of hesitations before Annalise answered, but it was long enough for Corrie to know that she was going to lie. ‘They never really say too much,’ she shrugged. ‘At least Mummy doesn’t. Daddy thinks that I’m too young for him, but then Daddy would.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Daddy wouldn’t approve of anyone, no matter who they were. He’s always been over-protective of me, but he’s beginning to understand now that I have to make my own decisions in life.’
‘So your father doesn’t really approve of Luke, is what you’re saying?’
‘Corrie, if you’re thinking of ganging up with him against me then please don’t. The last thing in the world I want is for us to fall out, but we will if you do anything to interfere in my relationship with Luke.’
‘All right,’ Corrie said crossly, ‘then I’m going to tell you quite frankly that Luke Fitzpatrick frightens me. That I really think he’s up to something that involves both you and your father. No, don’t ask me to explain, because I can’t. But it’s a feeling I have, and I know I’m right. So, I want your solemn promise, Annalise, that if he ever does anything, anything at all, either to harm you or frighten you or anything that is in any way out of the ordinary, you will come straight to me.’
Annalise laughed uneasily. ‘All right,’ she said, ‘if it makes you feel any better, then you have my solemn promise that I will come to you. Actually,’ she added after a pause, and her voice was barely audible as she continued, ‘there isn’t anyone else I’d go to anyway.’
There was a lump in Corrie’s throat as she reached out to squeeze Annalise’s hand. ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ she said, but what she was even more glad to hear was that tiny whisper of acknowledgement that there might one day be cause to turn to someone. It was, she knew, the best she could do for now.
– 19 –
PHILLIP DENBY WAS in his office staring down into the busy street. He’d been standing at the window for some time, quietly mulling over in his mind the many times he had come so close to ending it all by jumping into the constant flow of traffic below. It seemed crazy now, but then he had been crazy at the time. Not anymore though, thank God not anymore. Now he felt so free; so free that if he did jump he would probably fly.
Hearing a gentle tap on the door he turned to see Pam put her head round. Smiling he beckoned her in, and slipping an arm about her waist as she rested her head on his shoulder he said,
‘I can’t believe it, you know. I still just can’t believe it.’
‘Am I allowed to say I told you so?’ Pam chuckled. She lifted her head then and looked into his face. He looked so handsome today, so carefree and … yes, happy. It had been a long time since she’d seen him happy. But she still didn’t yet know all the details of his visit to the police, and knowing him as she did she was concerned that he might not, even now, have told them everything. ‘So,’ she said, ‘are you going to tell me what happened?’
‘You can see for yourself,’ he laughed, ‘they let me go.’
‘Of course. You didn’t do it, remember?’
‘But they believed me, Pam! They actually believed me.’ Letting her go he walked back to his chair and collapsed into it. Pam followed, perching on the edge of the desk in front of him. ‘I told them,’ he said, looking up at her, ‘about how I was the last person to visit the prostitutes, and about how I had tied them up. I even told them how worked up and angry I get about Octavia, which was why I dabbed her perfume over them. And then I told them … I said, “I didn’t kill them,” and they believed me.’
‘As easily as that?’ Pam said doubtfully.
‘Well no. They asked me a lot of questions, naturally, like what made me think I was the last person to see them alive …’
‘And what did you say?’ Pam interrupted.
‘I gave them the times I was there.’
Already Pam could feel her heart starting to sink. ‘Go on,’ she said.
‘They asked me all sorts of things about sexual positions and the like. It was pretty embarrassing really, especially when they got me to tie knots in rope … They did ask me one strange thing though. They wanted to know if I could tell them the contents of the dead prostitutes’ stomachs.’
‘What did you say?’ Pam asked, turning up her nose.
‘I said I couldn’t, of course. I mean, how could I? The last thing on my mind when I went to see them was food, which is what I told the police.’
Pam pondered on that for a moment, then said, ‘Now don’t take this the wrong way, Phillip, but for all they know you could have just been withholding information. So what made them believe you so readily?’
Phillip shook his head, ‘I don’t know. They just seemed to take my word for it.’
‘It was probably the incredulous look on that wonderfully innocent face of yours that convinced them,’ she teased, mussing up his hair. ‘But you were gone a long time, so what else did they say?’
‘Not much really. These things just take a long time. You know, going over and over every movement of the day, every word that was spoken – right down to the money that changed hands. Did I pay in cash, and if I did, did I use twenties or tens, or what did I use?’
‘Didn’t they want to know what had made you come forward now?’
It was the question Phillip had been dreading, from Pam, not from the police, and unable to meet her eyes he stood up again and walked over to the bookshelves. ‘I told them that I had heard about the perfume, that I’d only just heard about it, and
since I knew that the times of my visits coincided with the deaths too, that I should go and speak to them in order, as they put it, to eliminate myself from enquiries.’
‘Didn’t they want to know how you knew about the perfume?’
He still had his back to her, but now, knowing that he had to, he turned to face her. ‘I explained about my contact with TW,’ he answered lamely.
‘Oh Phillip,’ Pam groaned. ‘In other words, you didn’t tell them anything about Fitzpatrick. Is that what you’re telling me?’
He nodded.
‘Not even that it was him who told you about the perfume?’
Phillip shook his head. ‘No. I said it was Annalise who told me. They were surprised that she knew the brand, but then assumed that probably most people at TW knew that by now, since they’d told Fitzpatrick themselves.’
‘Phillip, why didn’t you tell them about Luke?’
‘You know why, Pam. It’s Octavia. Clearing myself with the police doesn’t change what he knows about her.’
‘And it doesn’t change what we know about him, either.’
‘But what do we know? Nothing. Nothing that can be substantiated, anyway. It’s all surmise on our part, Pam, and what if we’re wrong? What if he didn’t do it? If I told the police I thought he did, and I was wrong, then you know full well what he’d do. He’d make everything public about Octavia, and though I might not care about her, or even what it would probably do to me, I do care about what it would do to Annalise.’
‘And what if he did do it, Phillip? Have you thought about that? It won’t be scandal and heartbreak you’ll have to worry about then, will it? And it won’t just be Annalise either. It’ll be Corrie too. Because if that man is a killer, Phillip, then you surely don’t need me to remind you that he’s very, very, dangerously close to both those girls. Think on that, Phillip. Think on it, then for God’s sake go back to the police.’
When Corrie and Annalise arrived at Heathrow Airport Luke was in the arrivals lounge waiting for them. He greeted Annalise with such convincing contrition and devotion that it made Corrie feel ill. She noticed too all the people who passed by, staring at him, recognizing him and nudging each other with delight at having got an ‘in the flesh’ look at him. If only they knew what he was really like, she was thinking to herself. Would they be quite so impressed if they had any idea what was going on behind the public facade of that oh so handsome face?
When he finally let Annalise go it was as much as Corrie could do to say hello to him herself, but she tried, and she did accept his lift into London, where he dropped her at her studio before taking Annalise to his own flat, where they would no doubt spend what was left of the weekend making up.
As she closed her front door behind them Corrie turned to look around her studio. She’d always loved this little place, it was her sanctuary, her own personal haven where she could hide from the rest of the world when life was getting her down. One of the secretaries had been in to water the plants while she was away, and had even left a small bunch of freesias to welcome her home. And Corrie would have been glad to be home, were it not for the fact that she felt she had left an integral part of herself on the other side of the world. And as she moved across the room, registering the fact that nothing had changed, that everything was just as she had left it, she began to feel even more depressed. It was as though the past three weeks had never happened, and now she wished to God that they hadn’t.
Even before she rewound the tape on her answerphone she could feel the blind hope building in her that he might have called. He could have got her number from Felicity … But of course, there was no message, and even though she hadn’t really believed there would be, the disappointment wrenched cruelly at her heart.
There was, however, a message from Felicity. ‘Call me the minute you get back to London,’ she said urgently. ‘I couldn’t get hold of you in San Francisco, you didn’t leave the number. But I need to speak to you, PDQ.’
Once again hope flared in Corrie’s chest. Felicity had sounded so excited that it must be something to do with Cristos. But the very last message on the tape was again from Felicity.’
‘Hi. Thought I’d better call back just to let you know that what I have to tell you is nothing to do with Cristos. Didn’t want you getting your hopes up. But ring me, Corrie. Seriously! Get in touch as soon as you can.’
Corrie looked at her watch. It would be five o’clock in the morning in Los Angeles now. Well, Felicity had made it sound pretty pressing so she probably wouldn’t mind being woken up. But when Corrie got through the answerphone picked up her call, so she left a message saying she was back in London now, then made herself a cup of tea before calling Paula. God, how she’d missed speaking to Paula while she was away.
Ten minutes later she was curled up on the sofa with the telephone telling Paula that yes, she thought the programme was going to work, and that no, she hadn’t liked Los Angeles very much, but San Francisco was wonderful.
Paula waited for more, but when it didn’t come she said, ‘You sound really down in the dumps, Corrie. Did something happen out there to upset you, or something? Or is it just jet lag?’
Corrie sighed. ‘A bit of both I expect,’ she answered. ‘Oh God, Paula, so much happened out there I don’t even know where to begin.’
‘Well how about starting with the important bits? Like did you get to see Cristos Bennati again?’
‘Yes, I got to see him. But listen, I’m coming down to see you next weekend, I’ll tell you all about it then, OK?’
‘That’s cruel!’ Paula cried. ‘I shall die of curiosity between now and then.’ But sensing that Corrie really was unhappy, she added, ‘I missed you.’
‘I missed you too,’ Corrie said, her eyes filling up with tears. ‘Oh God, I missed you. Anyway, I’m going to get some sleep now, I’ll call you midweek, OK?’
Hating herself for doing it Corrie put down the phone, went upstairs to lie on her bed and cried herself to sleep.
To her relief though, she felt better in the morning, and since the date the Amendment was being debated in the House had, she discovered when she arrived at the office, been brought forward, Luke took the decision to postpone that week’s programme in favour of the rape programme. This meant that Corrie had more than enough to occupy her mind over the next thirty-six hours. Every available minute there was she spent in the edit suite, and actually ended up working through the night piecing together all they’d shot in LA.
On Tuesday night the programme was transmitted, and everyone insisted that they must take Corrie out to celebrate her first credit as a producer. She went, carried along now by sheer adrenalin, and not a little euphoria that the programme, against all the odds, had come out so well. They took her to the Chelsea Arts Club where Annalise bought the first bottle of champagne, Luke the second, Alan Fox the third and she didn’t have any idea who bought the fourth, fifth and sixth, all she knew was that she was drinking it like there was no tomorrow. She even had a good time, at least she thought she did, but she couldn’t remember too much about it the next morning. But what was pretty certain was that she had once again cried herself to sleep – one look at her swollen eyes told her that.
Annalise arrived at nine o’clock to take her to the office, looking, Corrie told her, disgustingly healthy for someone who’d been out on the town half the night.
That’s because, unlike some, I didn’t drink,’ Annalise laughed.
‘You didn’t?’
‘Nope. I don’t need to when things are going well with Luke. And they are going well, Corrie. I mean really well.’
‘I’m pleased for you,’ Corrie lied.
‘No you’re not. But feeling the way you are about Cristos doesn’t mean …’
‘Who said anything about Cristos?’
‘You did. Last night. No, it’s all right, you didn’t say it in front of anyone else. You just kept telling me that you understood why you couldn’t reason with me, when you couldn’t even
reason with yourself.’
‘I said that? What the hell was I talking about?’
‘You were trying to make yourself believe that you were no more than a one night stand.’
‘God! Remind me never to get drunk again.’
‘Corrie,’ Annalise said, as Corrie went to turn on the answerphone, ‘if you are hurting, I mean, if you want to talk, then I’d be happy to listen, you know.’
‘I’m not hurting,’ Corrie snapped. ‘I don’t want to talk, and I wish bloody Felicity would stop leaving cryptic messages on my answerphone and not being there when I call back. Now come on, or we’ll be late for the postmortem.’
Corrie spent most of Saturday looking after Beth while Paula worked in the shop. Corrie had offered, and wanting more than anything that her best friend should establish a relationship with her daughter, Paula had agreed. But now Paula was at home, and though it saddened her to do it, since she knew that Dave had been longing to hear about America, she bundled him off down to the pub, settled the baby, then returned to the sitting room where Corrie was pouring them both some wine.
‘OK, let’s have it,’ she said, closing the door behind her.
Corrie was standing in the middle of the room, and as her head dropped Paula realized straight away that she was crying. And not only was she crying, she was sobbing as though her heart would break.
‘Oh, Corrie,’ she cried, tears starting in her own eyes as she ran to take Corrie in her arms. ‘Corrie, what is it? What happened?’
‘Oh Paula, it hurts so much,’ Corrie spluttered. ‘It hurts and I just can’t stop it. I thought by now that I’d be over it, but it just seems to get worse.’
‘What does?’ Paula said gently.
A bubble of laughter erupted through Corrie’s tears then. ‘It’s going to blow your mind, Paula. You’d better sit down, because if you don’t you’ll probably fall down.’
It had never even occurred to Corrie how wonderful it might be to relive what she had known with Cristos in mere words, but it was. It was as though she was somehow transported back to the night and could see him, smell him, feel him – and most of all hear him and all the things he’d said, all over again. Throughout most of it Paula was open-mouthed, though she did not laugh when Corrie told her some of the things she’d said, like that day on the set when she’d told him how she almost came, and especially when she’d tried to act out a love scene with him. She whooped with joy to learn that Corrie had actually managed the elusive orgasm, but by the time Corrie finished there was a frown on Paula’s face, and Corrie herself was angry.
