Close Harmony

by Justine Elyot

  “Shh, you don’t have to…”

  “I do.” He turned to face Karl-Heinz. “And I want to thank you also.”

  “What for?”

  “For what you just did. And for taking care of Lydia when I could not.”

  “I’m not a babysitter,” he said.

  “That’s not the way I meant it.”

  The taxi pulled up outside Karl-Heinz’s Bloomsbury address and the threesome made their way up the steps.

  It was dark and raining—hardly the most auspicious of conditions—and yet Lydia felt a strange excitement at the pit of her stomach, a sense that something incredible was in the process of happening. Karl-Heinz was allowing Milan into his home…Milan wasn’t sniping at Karl-Heinz…what on earth could it mean?

  “All right, old man,” said Karl-Heinz, touching Milan’s elbow and steering him towards the bedroom, Lydia at their heels. “Let’s get you undressed and on the bed, shall we? Lydia, help him out. I’ll go and fetch the lotion.”

  “This place is so very von Ritter,” remarked Milan, looking around the neat, dark room as he unbuttoned his cuffs. “Nothing is out of place. Not like my bedroom.”

  “Not much,” agreed Lydia with a laugh, working on his shirt buttons. “Hold your arms still—that’s it.”

  She saw the livid welts on his back and sucked in a sympathetic breath.

  “Karl-Heinz really went to town on you,” she said.

  “Touch them.”

  “Won’t it hurt?”

  “Of course it will. I don’t mind. I like it. Don’t look at me like that—you must like it too, or you wouldn’t be with von Ritter.”

  “Well, I guess,” she said, feeling heat flood her face. She put a fingertip to one of the raised red lines, impressed by how warm it still was.

  Milan removed the rest of his clothes, then he pulled Lydia into his body for a long and passionate kiss before lying face-down on the bed.

  Her lips still stinging, she smiled blissfully, then caught sight of Karl-Heinz, standing in the doorway with his little pot of magic ointment.

  There was something about the misty, longing look on his face before he realised she had seen him that made everything suddenly slot into place.

  It could all work out.

  It could be so beautiful.

  Was it really possible?

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I like the scarf, is it silk?”

  Vanessa shrank away from Ben as he reached over to ruffle the pretty Hermès accessory. Under no circumstances should he be allowed to get it off her. Not until that bloody love bite faded.

  Her hand shook a little as she raised her gin and tonic to her lips. She mustn’t be tempted into letting him go home with her tonight. How would she put him off? She needed to think. Feigned illness? Exaggerated tiredness? Or maybe a simple ‘I want to be alone’. If it was good enough for Garbo…

  “Are you all right, gorgeous?” he asked, screwing up his face with concern.

  Vanessa felt as if she had been stabbed through the heart.

  “You’ve been a bit strange all day,” he continued. “Not quite yourself. Are you sickening for something?”

  Here was her chance.

  She gave him a weak smile. “Maybe,” she said. “I do feel a bit under the weather.”

  They both looked through the bar window at the steady rain, through which harassed Londoners battled, holding umbrellas like shields.

  “Twatty ap Twat doesn’t help, I suppose,” said Ben. “He’s been particularly obnoxious today. I don’t know how von Ritter doesn’t kick him into the middle of the room sometimes. What about all that argy-bargy over the tempo of the Beethoven earlier? Sheesh.”

  “He likes…control,” said Vanessa, her chest suddenly so tight she could barely breathe. Flashbacks of the night before tormented her and she tried to drown them in gin, but to no avail.

  She should tell him. Why couldn’t she tell him?

  “Perhaps we should go,” suggested Ben. “You’re pale as a ghost. Appropriately enough, with Hallowe’en coming up.”

  “Look. Do you mind…” Vanessa’s words were coming out in breathy jerks. “Not coming. I’ll go alone. Early night. Feel better later.”

  “Christ, Ness, is it that bad? Darling, I’m not letting you make that Tube journey alone. You look as if you might have some kind of seizure. Come on. I’ll get us a cab.”

  Plan A thwarted. She couldn’t fob him off when he was being so kind and sweet. So Ben.

  She let him escort her out into the cold, rainy night and leaned on him while he flagged down a taxi.

  He was blessedly quiet on the drive south of the river, and only spoke again when it was time to pay the fare.

  “I’ll get you inside,” he said. “Shall I run you a bath?”

  “Oh, Ben, I can look after myself.”

  “But I want to look after you,” he said with a pout.

  She opened the door to the flat and staggered gratefully to the sofa.

  “That’s very sweet of you, darling, but I think I’ll be better on my own. Why don’t you call your friends, meet up with them? They’re always grumbling about how much time you spend here.”

  Ben sat down on the sofa beside her, the corners of his mouth downturned.

  “Oh dear,” he sighed. “Tonight really hasn’t gone according to the Chancellor plan.”

  Vanessa couldn’t resist his disconsolate face. She reached out and stroked his cheek.

  “Poor baby,” she said wearily. “I’m sorry to be such a bore.”

  “You are never a bore,” he said decisively. “Never.”

  He shuffled up closer to her.

  “Give us your germs,” he said, puckering his lips.

  Vanessa couldn’t help laughing. “What an offer,” she said. She gave him a quick peck. “Go on with you, you daft thing.”

  The look that passed between them after the kiss seemed to last a very long time. Vanessa’s resolve to make him go home weakened, second by second.

  “I do love you, Ness,” he said.

  She rubbed her nose against his.

  “I know.”

  “So much,” he said, swallowing. “I should probably postpone this now but… I don’t feel as if I can wait another minute.”

  “What?”

  “Lie back against the sofa and shut your eyes.”

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  “Don’t stress, Ness.”

  She smiled at his familiar catchphrase and did as he’d asked. Oh, how comfortable it was, after the tense day she’d had. She felt her neck muscles unwind, as if her body knew it could trust Ben.

  “I booked a really nice restaurant for tonight,” he said softly. “Don’t—don’t say anything. It’s okay. I’m not pissed off. We can go there another time, any time we like.”

  “Which one?”

  “That one at the Mandarin Oriental.”

  “Oh, such amazing views. I love it there. We have to go another time.”

  “Yes, well, I wanted the atmosphere to be special.”

  Vanessa opened her eyes.

  “Why?”

  “Shut your eyes, woman.”

  She began to feel a flutter of panic. Now was not the time for anything…special. Not after the horror she’d been through the night before. She needed some recovery time, a few days for the mark Dafydd had left on her to go. And why had she allowed him to do that? Why was she with Ben if she’d let Dafydd… That photograph, that fucking photograph! The swirl of panicked thoughts rushed to the forefront of her mind and she put her hands up over her face.

  “Hey,” said Ben softly, taking them away. He put something into one of them and made her close her fingers around it. She felt the shape of it, a square base with a rounded top, velvet covered.

  Oh God, not this, not now.

  “Do you know what it is?”

  She heard him whisper, heard the sound of him shifting, moving, until he was on the floor in front of her.


  “Ben…”

  “Please, let me say the words. Vanessa, I love you so much I can’t imagine how I functioned before I met you. I want to marry you. Will you marry me? Please?”

  Vanessa opened her eyes again and looked into the earnest, ardent, beloved face.

  “Oh, love,” she said, blinking back tears. “You know I’m already married.”

  “Yes, yes, but you’re going to get a divorce now, aren’t you? So, after that? Yes?”

  “I…” She looked around her, as if for escape. “I don’t deserve you,” she said.

  “Yes, yes, you do,” he said, pressing her hands hard. “That is, I mean, no, you’re too good for me, obviously, but don’t let that put you off.”

  A laugh forced its way past the lump in her throat.

  “You’re such an idiot.”

  “But you love me.”

  “Yes. I do.”

  “So you’ll say yes?”

  Vanessa saw two lives stretch out ahead of her. One was full of laughter and love and sex and companionship. The other was empty of it. One person stood in front of the first option—Dafydd, the gatekeeper of hell.

  He wouldn’t, absolutely wouldn’t, be allowed to ruin her life for her.

  Somehow, she would get rid of him.

  After all, he hadn’t even spoken to her at the rehearsal, hadn’t confronted her about not showing up in the park that morning. Perhaps, in the cold light of day, he had finally realised that his behaviour was unreasonable and he should let Vanessa go. Yes, that must be it. He must have come to his senses. Not before time.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice sounding foreign to her. “Yes, why not?”

  Ben punched the air and hissed, “Yesss!” before yanking Vanessa to her feet and clamping her into a bonecrushing hug, then an intense kiss.

  “Put the ring on,” he urged, releasing his grip on her.

  She sat back down, a little winded.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, falling on his knees on the sofa beside her. “I forgot you were ill. Euphoria of the moment. Oh my God. I’m going to be your husband. Mr Vanessa. I can’t believe it. Wow.”

  This should be one of the happiest moments of my life, thought Vanessa, adjusting her silk scarf. And I am happy. I love him. I want him for the rest of my life. But…

  She opened the box and took out the elegant solitaire. Just her taste. He knew her so well.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said, smiling up at him, still tearful. “You’re such a clever boy.” She slipped it on her finger, finding that it fitted perfectly.

  He took the hand and held it to his lips, kissing the fingertips, then the ring.

  “We’re officially engaged,” he whispered.

  “Can you be married and engaged at the same time?” wondered Vanessa.

  “You’ll see a lawyer, won’t you?”

  “The appointment’s already made,” she said, truthfully.

  “That’s fantastic! You must have had a premonition.”

  “It had to be done. I have to get Dafydd out of my life, once and for all.”

  “Out with the old,” said Ben softly, putting his lips to her cheek and sliding her into his arms.

  “In with the young,” she joked with a tired smile.

  Ben pinched her and she yelped, flapping her hands at his chest.

  “Gerroff!”

  “Just celebrating my engagement.” He pushed her down, pinning her to the sofa while she squirmed and giggled.

  “Celebrate with a bit more decorum, can’t you? I’ve got prosecco in the fridge—go and open the bottle.”

  “Awesome! You’re feeling better, then?”

  She sat up once he’d let go of her, adjusting herself.

  “A little,” she conceded.

  The prosecco led to smooching and the smooching led to making out and before Vanessa could recollect her senses, she was deeply embroiled in love and desire, the alcoholic bubbles having temporarily erased last night’s trauma from her mind.

  She lay on the sofa, her leg over Ben’s, unbuttoning his shirt and kissing the exposed area of his chest. His hands wandered up her top and into her bra. Their tongues pushed and probed inside each other’s mouths. There was some reason why she wasn’t meant to be doing this…some reason…but it felt so good.

  And there was something she should have told him, but that proposal had derailed her intentions and made her want the evening unspoilt by the dirty shadow of Dafydd. She wanted things to be perfect and lovely, for Ben’s sake as much as hers.

  But she was pretending. She knew she was only pretending.

  She tried to sit up, determined to stop this before it went too far and tell Ben about what Dafydd had done.

  The kiss broke and Ben’s hand moved to her scarf.

  “No,” she cried, grabbing hold of his wrist, but he had undone it.

  “What’s up, Ness?” he slurred, drawing the silk from her neck, uncovering her skin. “Oh.”

  She felt him tense, felt him jerk back. She couldn’t look at him.

  His finger prodded her love bite.

  “What’s this? I didn’t do that. I wouldn’t do that. What is it?”

  “He attacked me.”

  “What? Who did? What are you saying?”

  Ben was pale, his eyes appalled.

  Vanessa reached out for him.

  “I have to tell you…”

  There was a bang at the door.

  “Who the fuck’s that?” shouted Ben, sounding so unlike himself that Vanessa sobbed.

  “Ben, listen to me ―”

  “You’d better answer it. It’s probably whoever did that to you.”

  “I don’t want to answer it. Whoever it is didn’t buzz—it’s probably just a neighbour. Ben, let me explain.”

  “How do you explain a thing like that? What was it? Vampire attack?”

  He was on his feet now, stumbling about the room as if he’d drunk way more than the two glasses of prosecco.

  The bang at the door came again.

  “Please, sit down,” Vanessa urged. “It was Dafydd. He attacked me.”

  “What the fuck? Why wouldn’t you tell me that? You’d have told me. Why would you not tell me? I don’t understand.”

  The door was hammered at a third time.

  “Oh, fuck off!” he bellowed.

  “I bet that’s him,” said Vanessa. “I was supposed to meet him and I didn’t.”

  “You were supposed to meet him? What’s going on?” wailed Ben, clutching his forehead in his hands.

  “I should have told you,” she said, getting up and reaching out for him.

  “Yes, you should,” he said.

  He headed for the door.

  “Don’t get the door. Make him go. Make him go away.”

  The bellow of “Vanessa!” from the other side was unmistakably Dafydd.

  Before Vanessa could stop him, Ben had opened the door and was staring Dafydd straight in the eye.

  “Oh, hello,” said Dafydd, switching on the instant smarm. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Why ever not?” Ben spat the words out.

  “Not after what I sent to your phone earlier.”

  Ben dropped his hand from the door handle.

  “What? What was that?”

  “Why don’t you check your phone now and see?”

  “Don’t bother,” broke in Vanessa, hovering by Ben’s shoulder. “It’s a photo. A photo of me.”

  “Aren’t you going to let me in, Mrs ap Hughes?” asked Dafydd.

  “No, I’m not. I’m calling the police if you don’t go away now. You’ve done your worst.”

  Ben was fumbling in his pocket for his phone.

  “Ah, I’d switched it off,” he said, frowning. “In case it ruined the moment.”

  Well, yes, thought Vanessa, her stomach in plunging knots. It might have had that effect.

  “Don’t look,” she said, although she knew it was useless. “It’s not what you think.”


  Dafydd laughed.

  “It’s exactly what you think,” he said. “What do you think of Vanessa’s neck? Nice mark, hmm? My signature on her skin.”

  “You know you forced yourself on me,” shouted Vanessa. “You know you did, you bastard.”

  “No I didn’t. You allowed me to kiss you. Shocking memory you have, Nessie. Must be old age creeping up. Don’t you think, Ben? Not that you’d know.”

  Ben had obviously found the photograph, judging by the way his hands were shaking and his eyes filling with tears.

  “I can’t take this,” he said, dashing the phone back in his pocket and wrenching the door wide so it would let him through. “I’m sorry, Ness. I just can’t take it. I need some time…”

  Vanessa hung in the open doorway and pleaded with him to come back, but his footsteps echoed up the stairwell, never retracing, until she heard the outer door bang shut.

  “Get out of here,” she said in a low, hard voice to Dafydd. “Get out of my sight.”

  “Let me in, love. I’ve got things to say to you.”

  “I’ve got nothing to say to you. Nothing, ever, ever again.”

  He opened his mouth to speak again, but she clenched her fist and drove it into his face, surprisingly hard, much harder than she’d ever thought she could. Her ring caught the side of his eye, drawing blood.

  “Fucking hell!” he shouted, clutching his wound. “You bitch.”

  The door across the hallway opened and the elderly man who lived there alone peered out.

  “I’m calling the police,” he said. “Two nights in a row you’ve been making a racket out there. I’ve had enough of it.”

  Dafydd whirled round in a fury, but the man had already closed his door.

  “You heard the man,” said Vanessa. “Now go.”

  Dafydd lashed out, getting hold of her elbow.

  “I’m waiting for the police to arrive,” he said. “I’m going to make a complaint against you. This is assault.” He pointed to his eye.

  Vanessa pointed to her neck. “So is this.”

  “You can’t prove a fucking thing. They’ll think you wanted it.”

  “Why would they think that? Look at you. You’re vile,” snarled Vanessa.

  “You used to want it all right. Remember when you couldn’t get enough. Remember when you were on your back morning, noon and night, wide open for me. What about our honeymoon, Nessie? What about Jersey? You got it every which way every day until you couldn’t make it down to the hotel restaurant. And you still wanted more.”