Last Resort

by Susan Lewis

  Shock rooted Penny to the spot as she stared at them with the kind of compulsion she experienced when watching a horror film. The air was charged with their eroticism; she could feel it moving through her with the cutting edge of silk. Richmond’s hand was sliding beneath the waistband of Declan’s pyjamas. Their mouths were still joined; the dark sweep of their lashes quivered in the mounting intensity. Richmond was holding Declan’s fully erect penis, moving his hand back and forth. Then he stepped in closer and as his own penis brushed against Declan’s he circled his fingers around both, clamping them together, while with his other hand he began to push Declan’s pyjamas down over his hips.

  Penny turned quietly away and walked unsteadily down the stairs. When she reached the sitting room she simply stood there, staring blankly into space. The greatest part of the shock, she realized, was not so much what they were doing, but that they had done it in front of her, that Declan had so clearly wanted her to witness his initiation into the world of homosexuality. What was surprising her even more, she realized dully, was her own calmness in the face of such blatant and stupefying infidelity.

  Her head went to one side and as she caught her reflection in the mirror she gave a humourless laugh. How the hell was she supposed to handle this? Should she storm out in a fit of prim, Victorian disgust? She didn’t much feel like doing that and, besides, how could she when Mally and the boys were already on their way? So did she just sit there and wait for them to finish? It was going to feel pretty weird trying to get on with her work while Declan was upstairs getting laid by a long-distance runner. She guessed she just had to hope he wasn’t a long-distance lover.

  Walking over to the kitchen, she put more coffee in the percolator, then turned to watch the rain sliding down the windows. It was hard to believe that the man who made love to her so tenderly and boisterously and so damned regularly was upstairs now playing the woman for another man. She felt herself starting to turn hot, then slightly dizzy with the fear of what it really meant. It was as if the past two days had descended on her world with all the vengeance of Nemesis, tearing out the roots of her career and shattering all the trust and belief she had had in Declan. And as the images of what they might be doing to each other began to flash hideously through her mind she knew that she was never going to be able to bring herself to make love with him again after this. The betrayal was absolute and irrevocable. The hurt and the shame was unforgivable.

  Suddenly she was shaking with fury. The bastard! How could he spring this on her now when he knew how vulnerable she was feeling about her job and knew too that since her mother had died and Sammy had gone off travelling he was the only person she felt close to, the only one she ever turned to in times of need. This was one of those times and what was he doing? He was up there literally getting his ass screwed off by another man, while she was down here feeling like a superannuated idiot who didn’t know whether to put the kettle on or tie the bastard’s balls to his ankles with a short string.

  The bucket was already under the tap, water cascading into it, as she fumed with a deadly mix of resentment, devastated pride and fury. Hiking the bucket out of the sink she marched up the stairs. As she turned into the studio the light blinded her for an instant; then, seeing them writhing about on the cushions like a negative trying to get processed she dumped the entire contents of the bucket over them, before snatching up a tube of black paint and squirting it all over Richmond’s portrait.

  ‘What the fuck . . .?’ Richmond protested as she started to walk out of the studio.

  ‘Be-Jesus, she’s angry!’ Declan muttered, using the back of his hand to wipe the water from his face. ‘Penny! Penny, get back here.’

  Penny swung round. ‘Oh, I’m not angry, Declan,’ she seethed. ‘Why should I be angry that you want to play Polo mints with Mr Bassett, here?’

  ‘She calling me a liquorice allsort?’ Richmond grunted.

  At any other time Penny might have laughed. As it was, she was too hurt and angry to respond. The only thing that brought her a moment of relief was the sight, from the corner of her eye, of a discarded condom wrapper. ‘I don’t know whether you’ve just lost your virginity, Declan,’ she said scathingly. ‘If you have, I hope it hurt like hell. But if you’ve done this before then I’m making you a promise here and now: if there’s the slightest hint of any virus whatsoever in my blood when I go to get it tested, I’ll be back here to cut off your dick and shove it so far down your throat you’ll be wearing your balls as earrings. Have you got that? Are you receiving me?’

  ‘But Penny, m’darling, you got this all wrong,’ he said, smothering his slackening genitals with his hand. ‘To be sure, you got this all wrong. I thought this was what you wanted, so I did. You said you wanted two men . . .’

  ‘That was fantasy, Declan,’ she shouted. ‘Don’t you know the god-damned difference? And if it was what I wanted, it was supposed to be me who had the other man, not you!’

  Declan grimaced. ‘Well, to be sure, I can see there’s been some confusion here,’ he said. ‘But I love you, Pen. I love you with all my fickle heart, so I do.’ He grinned roguishly, as though expecting to make her laugh.

  ‘Is this the first time?’ she demanded.

  His expression was a burlesque of shame.

  ‘Stupid question,’ she muttered, contempt adding itself to the anger.

  ‘You know what it’s like for me, Pen,’ he said mournfully. ‘I can’t be controlling me hormones now. But it’s you who makes me life worth living. It’s you who gives me—’

  ‘Save it, Declan,’ she snapped. ‘I’m getting myself tested – and providing I’m not harbouring some killer disease, you’ll never see me again.’ She was surprised by how much those words hurt, for she meant them and she loved him and she just didn’t want any of this to be happening.

  ‘But, Penny, aren’t we to be going to France together?’ he asked plaintively.

  ‘In your dreams, Declan,’ she cried.

  ‘Oh, now don’t be saying things like that,’ he protested. ‘You know how I’ve always wanted to go to France.’

  ‘Then go, Declan. Go, and take him with you.’

  Realizing he was again being spoken about, Richmond jerked his head round, moving his gaze from the devastated portrait that now showed what he would look like if it really were possible to melt under the burning animosity in Penny’s eyes.

  ‘You see, I just like sex,’ Declan said, with his unique flair for non sequiturs. ‘Well, you’ll be knowing that, but the best is always with you, so it is. Didn’t I say that to you, Richmond: the best is always with Penny.’

  ‘Some people are satisfied with the best,’ Penny snapped as Richmond obediently nodded his head.

  ‘And to be sure I am,’ Declan assured her. ‘But it’s like, well, you know how it is, people come in different shapes and sizes and I like to be trying them all But my heart belongs to you, Penny Moonshine. Everyone knows my heart belongs to you. But sometimes a man needs something else, so he does.’

  The absurdity of the situation, a situation only someone like Declan could ever bring about, wasn’t by any means passing Penny by, but her normally indomitable humour was blunted by the pain of knowing how much she was going to miss him.

  ‘I’ll get myself tested,’ she said sharply, ‘and I suggest you do the same. How many other women have you slept with? They should be told too.’

  ‘Oh, now, listen to what you’re saying, Penny,’ he objected. ‘You’re assuming the worst. I’ll not be having AIDS, I promise you that. And the other women, now they won’t be reacting the way you are, so they won’t.’

  Penny’s heart twisted. So there were other women too. How ludicrously naïve of her never to have suspected it before. ‘Nevertheless, I think you should inform them of your bisexuality, or at least get yourself tested to make sure you’re clear,’ she said.

  ‘If that’s what you’re wanting, then take it as done,’ he said. ‘Just don’t be walking out of my life.’


  ‘I’m sorry, Declan,’ she said.

  ‘Penny! I’ll never sleep with another man,’ he cried, leaping to his feet as she started down the stairs. ‘I swear it, Penny. Let’s go to France, put all this behind us and start over, why not?’

  Stopping, she turned back to look at him. ‘It’s not just the men, Declan,’ she said. ‘In fact, the strange part is if it weren’t for AIDS I could almost forgive that – after all, they can offer you something I can’t. But it’s not something I can live with, Declan; nor can I with the other women.’

  ‘Monogamy? That’s it: you’ll be wanting monogamy,’ he said decisively, as though this aberration of the female psyche had never occurred to him before. ‘I can give you monogamy.’

  ‘No, you can’t,’ she said. ‘I should have realized it before, but I suppose I just didn’t want to.’ She smiled bleakly. ‘We’ve had some good times together, Declan, some great times, but as of now I’m signing out of the harem.’

  He waited until she reached the landing below, then in a voice that was imbued with gentleness he said, ‘Penny, if you’re going it alone from here, if there’s nothing I can say to change your mind, then you take my advice now. Always remember how special you are, that this humble man who has erred still loves you – and if you were maybe to be lose a little bit of weight now, well, I’d be happy to take you back.’

  Perfect, Penny was seething to herself as she walked on down the stairs. Just perfect. Why could she never think of the devastating exit lines when they were called for? But in truth, despite the hurt, the very rumness of it all was almost making her laugh. Though only, she guessed, because Mally was on her way and, if nothing else, Mally would be able to make her see the funny side of it all. Knowing Mally, she’d even find it funny to discover Penny waiting at the station ready to board the next train back to London. Nothing ever seemed to faze Mally, and ordinarily Penny had to admit that nothing much fazed her either, so the hell was she going to let this be an exception. She had a mountain of work to get through, plenty to occupy her time and her mind; it was just a shame that by Sunday night Mally would be gone and by Monday she, Penny, had to have an answer ready for Sylvia.

  Damn Declan! she thought, tears burning her eyes as she gathered up her belongings. Damn him, damn him, damn him, for the idea of going to France without him was making her resist it all the more.

  ‘. . . and I’ll take the magret de canard, thank you,’ Sylvia said, closing the menu and handing it back to the waiter.

  Penny’s blue eyes, though slightly red from all the crying she had done over Declan these past two days, were sparkling with laughter. ‘Not very subtle,’ she commented.

  Sylvia inclined her head questioningly.

  ‘Bringing me to a French restaurant,’ Penny clarified.

  Laughing, Sylvia raised her glass of light, carefully chilled Provençal rosé. ‘There’s a lot of this, too, where you’ll be going,’ she said.

  ‘I’m sure there is,’ Penny remarked, clinking her glass against Sylvia’s.

  Sylvia’s affection was clear in her eyes as she looked at Penny. ‘I’m glad you’ve agreed to go,’ she said, smiling. ‘And though you might not think so now, you’ll thank me for it in the end. You’re too young to be tying yourself to one country, and England, I’m sorry to say, is fast becoming the backwater of Europe. You need to be out there experiencing more of the world and most young women of your age would give a great deal for an opportunity like this.’

  ‘It’s OK, I feel ungracious enough as it is, so you don’t have to rub it in,’ Penny said with the ingenuous bluntness towards her superiors that had warmed Sylvia to her at the very beginning. ‘Did you get a chance to look at the memo I left for you this morning?’

  Sylvia nodded and with a wry smile said, ‘As usual when something is penned by you, ma chère, it made rather entertaining reading. However, I have to say that I am in complete agreement with you: the magazine as it stands is . . . Now, let me see, how did you put it?’

  ‘A heap of shit,’ Penny provided.

  Laughing, Sylvia sat back in her chair. ‘As I recall, what you said was that “after diligently excavating this mine of slothful pomposity the odd gem could be found glinting. But, taken in its entirety, it was the apogee of banality expounding more self-congratulatory twaddle than a Labour party press release.”’

  ‘I was feeling benevolent at the time.’ Penny grinned.

  Still laughing, Sylvia said, ‘So now I should like to hear any ideas you might have for putting it to rights.’

  ‘Still early days for that,’ Penny responded, popping an olive into her mouth. ‘That’s not to say I don’t have ideas, it’s just that I would like to do some more homework before I commit myself to paper.’

  ‘Then I would suggest that you make a trip to the South of France and get the lie of the land, see if you want to keep on any of the staff or contributors or even the premises – and while you’re at it, you can find somewhere suitable to live. You’ll have a generous allowance – as the editor you will be called upon to entertain quite frequently, so I’d advise you to choose a nice villa somewhere.’

  Penny had to admit that, on the face of it, it was all sounding pretty irresistible, but taking a deep breath she said, ‘Look, I know I’ve said I’ll go, and I will, but there still remains just one tiny little snag – I don’t have any experience of actually running a magazine . . .’

  ‘I’m aware of that,’ Sylvia answered, ‘which is why I have arranged for you to spend as much time as possible with Yolanda before you go. It’s also why I have assigned someone to work alongside you.’

  Penny’s eyes instantly narrowed. ‘Oh? Who?’ she said warily.

  ‘My godson, David,’ Sylvia replied.

  Penny’s glass hit the table, slopping wine on to the chequered cloth. ‘You don’t happen to mean David Villers, do you?’ she said, horrified. ‘No, please tell me you don’t mean him!’

  ‘Yes, I mean David Villers,’ Sylvia confirmed, as the waiter placed an hors-d’oeuvre in front of her.

  ‘Then, that’s it!’ Penny declared. ‘I’ll have to resign now because I wouldn’t work with that man if my entire life depended on it. I’d rather be Linda Kidman’s lackey. I’d rather go back to Preston. I’d rather juggle chainsaws than work with David Villers.’

  ‘I had no idea you felt so strongly about him,’ Sylvia said, trying hard not to laugh. It wasn’t the first time she’d witnessed such a heated response from a female where her godson was concerned and she doubted it would be the last. In fact, knowing Penny as she did, it was highly likely there’d be an endless stream of them coming up over the next few months that would be as colourful as they were entertaining.

  ‘Sylvia, this isn’t funny,’ Penny said earnestly, her luminous eyes clouding with despair. These had not been an easy few days and so far there was no sign of any let-up. ‘I know he’s your godson,’ she said, ‘but, I’m sorry, I can’t stand him and I certainly can’t work with him. So I’m afraid you’ll have to find someone else.’

  Sylvia was shaking her head. ‘The more I’ve thought about this, Penny,’ she said, ‘the more convinced I am that your – how shall we put it? – unique combination of talents is exactly what is needed for the job. Just give yourself a chance . . .’

  ‘But not with David,’ Penny implored. ‘Please not with him. I’ll do it willingly, I’ll go and you’ll never hear a word of complaint from me, if only you’ll say it doesn’t have to be with him.’

  Sylvia was more bemused than annoyed. ‘Why on earth do you dislike him so much?’ she asked. ‘In fact, I didn’t even realize you’d met him – he’s so rarely in the country.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve met him all right,’ Penny said tightly as the unsavoury memory flaunted itself brazenly in her mind. ‘And he’s rude, arrogant, lazy, selfish, spoiled and downright fucking horrible.’

  ‘My, my!’ Sylvia chuckled. ‘I always knew he had his faults, but what on earth did he do to you?’


  Penny looked away. She wasn’t about to admit to Sylvia that once, while under the influence of a little too much wine, she’d come on pretty strong to her precious godson. They’d been at a party in one of the plush restaurants on the Embankment at the time and Penny, like every other woman present, had been aware of David Villers from the moment he’d walked in. Being as strikingly good-looking as he was with his long, curly blond hair and strong, well-defined features, it was hardly surprising he’d caused such a stir. But it wasn’t only his looks that attracted people to him, for his self-confidence and easy humour had a magnetic allure all their own. He’d been there for almost half an hour by the time Penny plucked up the courage to respond to the interested glances he was casting her way. It wasn’t until she had already introduced herself that she’d realized the glances had in fact been directed towards the leggy brunette somewhere behind her. However, with a reckless, champagne-induced bravado fizzing through her, instead of moving on she had attempted to block his view of the other woman by bobbing around in front of him, snatching his smiles for herself while going into some hideously embarrassing routine designed to impress him. Even now, as she thought of it, she could feel her toes curling. But that was by no means the worst of it, for if she remembered correctly, and sadly she knew she did, every time he’d politely tried to excuse himself she had unflinchingly pressed more of her amusing anecdotes upon him while sidling doggedly with him across the room. Oh God, why do we do these things? She was cringing inside. It was only after the call of nature had prised her briefly from his side that he had made good his escape and then, coming back down the stairs, she’d overheard him apologizing to the host of the party for sneaking out early but he just had to get away from the ‘stumpy little blonde who’s coming on to me like some sex-starved Sumo’.

  As she looked at Sylvia, still trying to think of an answer, Penny was sunk in the misery of her recaptured disgrace. How could any self-respecting woman have embarrassed herself like that? Unfortunately the answer was ‘easily’, since if the truth were known she had a bit of a knack for it. But why couldn’t David Villers just have stayed in Miami where he belonged? Actually, if she remembered correctly he was a Scot, but he’d lived in the States for ten years or more, or so he’d said, and as far as she was concerned the USA was more than welcome to him. She had no idea what he’d been doing over there and neither did she care. Except now he was back in England, at least she presumed he was, and he was about to discover that his partner in this new venture was none other than the sex-starved Sumo. Wasn’t he going to be pleased!