Last Resort

by Susan Lewis

  ‘I just came over to say hi,’ David answered. ‘But I can see it’s not convenient right now. I’ll call back another time.’ And with a quick glance at Marielle he left.

  ‘That’s the last time that bastard pulls one on me,’ Stirling snarled, staring at the empty doorway. ‘You tell him from me, Marielle, you tell that son of a bitch, I’m gonna blast his ass so fucking hard they’ll still be looking for the pieces come Doomsday.’ His eyes swivelled to Marielle. ‘For Chrissake, cover yourself up,’ he barked. ‘Then get the fuck out of here and don’t come back.’

  The sound of laughter from behind the closed door of Sylvia Starke’s office was becoming infectious. The production concourse was fairly full at that moment and as they all turned to look at each other a grin was spreading on every face. David Villers, Sylvia’s cherished godson, had gone in a few minutes ago when just the sight of him striding through the office had caused more than a few female hearts to flutter.

  In the comfort of Sylvia’s plush seating area David had just finished recounting the story of how he had discovered Marielle with Stirling. Sylvia was dabbing her eyes and trying to catch her breath, she had laughed so hard.

  ‘What I wouldn’t give to have seen his face,’ she gasped. ‘But you must be careful, David. Stirling is nobody’s fool: he’s clever and he’s dangerous. He isn’t going to take this sitting down and you know it.’

  ‘He’s never taken anything sitting down,’ David said calmly, ‘but it’s never got him anywhere yet.’

  She eyed him for a moment, her expression alone warning him not to become cocky. ‘What made you go over there?’ she asked.

  David shrugged. ‘Seemed crazy not to when I’d just caught him spying on me with his binoculars.’

  ‘But how did you know he was there? On that particular boat?’

  ‘Easy. I got Pierre to follow Marielle.’

  ‘Ah, yes, Marielle. So what happens to her now?’

  David grimaced. ‘I haven’t made up my mind yet. Nothing, probably – at least, not for a while. My guess is, when Penny finds her feet a bit more she’ll fire her, but she needs Marielle right now whether she likes it or not. And Marielle’s harmless enough. A bit of a schemer, but she’s playing out of her league here which she’ll find out soon enough.’

  ‘Well, just make sure she can’t do you any damage before she does,’ Sylvia warned.

  ‘You got it.’ David winked. ‘You know,’ he said, stretching an arm along the back of the sofa and resting a foot on his knee, ‘I find I’m getting quite fond of old Stirling. I reckon I’m going to miss him when all this is over.’

  Sylvia’s mouth tightened as she looked at him from under her lashes. ‘And when will that be, David?’ she asked in a serious voice.

  ‘Good question,’ he sighed.

  Sylvia watched him for a moment, then said, ‘Have you heard anything more from Gabriella?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not for a couple of weeks.’

  ‘Do you trust her?’

  He laughed bitterly. ‘With a woman like Gabriella, trust doesn’t come into the equation.’

  ‘Has she agreed to let you see the boys?’ Sylvia asked after a pause.

  ‘No way is she going to let me anywhere near them while she’s staying with my old lady,’ he answered, an edge of bitterness in his voice. The bitterness turned to anger as he got abruptly to his feet. ‘It hurts, Sylvia,’ he muttered. ‘It hurts like fucking hell. They’re my boys and I’m not even getting to see them grow up.’

  Sylvia, watching him walk to the window, said nothing. There was no point reminding him that if he hadn’t played around the way he had Gabriella might not be doing this to him for as true as it was, it sadly was now a very long way from being as simple as that.

  ‘Stirling’s after everything. You know that don’t you?’ he said. ‘And he’s not going to stop until he’s got it.’

  ‘He feels you owe him,’ Sylvia pointed out.

  David laughed and turned to face her. ‘Now, there’s an understatement,’ he said.

  Sylvia’s answering smile was small. ‘How’s Penny?’ she asked, changing the subject.

  ‘Still in LA. Back the day after tomorrow.’

  ‘Have things worked out for her over there? She hasn’t called me at all.’

  ‘I spoke to her last week some time. She sounded pretty pleased with herself, so yeah, I guess it must be going OK.’

  ‘Good. Didn’t you tell me you got the impression she didn’t want to go?’

  David nodded.

  ‘The new man?’

  ‘I imagine so.’

  Sylvia frowned thoughtfully. ‘How are things on the personal front between the two of you now? You’ve obviously made things up since your atrocious display of insensitivity the night of the party.’

  ‘It was an honest mistake,’ he defended himself. ‘And yeah, we’ve made it up.’

  Sylvia eyed him suspiciously. ‘Not between the sheets, I trust?’

  David’s grin was sheepish. ‘She turned me down,’ he said.

  ‘Wise girl,’ Sylvia remarked. ‘You know full well she’s not someone for you to have a fling with.’

  ‘It wasn’t a fling I had in mind,’ he said soberly.

  ‘Well, whatever you did have in mind, I hope you’ve got rid of it now. I’ve told you before, I don’t want her mixed up in any of this – and, if you do care about her, then neither will you. Gabriella is a dangerous adversary . . .’

  ‘Thanks for reminding me,’ he said tightly. A quick stab of temper suddenly flared in him and he slammed his fist into the wall. ‘Jesus Christ, I’m beginning to feel like a criminal here,’ he seethed.

  Sylvia laughed. ‘Why don’t you tell Stirling that? I think he’d enjoy the joke.’

  It was David’s turn to laugh. ‘Now, he could give lessons on what it feels like to be a criminal,’ he said. ‘God knows, he’s not short on qualifications.’

  ‘Robert Stirling’s not short on a lot of things, David, and well you know it,’ she said.

  David turned back to look out of the window.

  ‘We’ve got to get something sorted out soon, David,’ she went on, starting to get up. ‘If we don’t, that man is going to drag us all—’

  Wondering why she had stopped, David turned to look at her and his blood turned instantly to ice as he saw her slumped over the table. He was across the room in a second. ‘Sylvia! Sylvia!’ he cried, lifting her and cradling her head against his chest. ‘Jesus Christ! Sylvia, what is it?’

  ‘It’s nothing,’ she gasped. ‘Nothing. Just a dizzy spell. It’ll pass. I’m not as young as I used to be, remember,’ she tried to joke.

  ‘Bullshit!’ he said savagely, a horrible, terrifying panic welling in him. Next to his sons there wasn’t another person in the world who came even close to meaning as much to him as this woman. ‘Oh Christ, Sylvia,’ he cried as she clutched his hand. ‘Shall I get the doctor? What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Just hold me,’ she smiled. ‘It feels good, you holding me.’

  ‘Let me get the doctor,’ he said, pulling her closer ‘You just stay where you are. I’ll go get—’

  ‘David, no – there’s no need. I’m fine, really. Look, it’s passing already,’ she said, forcing herself to sit a little straighter.

  ‘This is my fault,’ he said, kneeling in front of her and holding her hands tightly in his. ‘I didn’t want you to get involved in this—’

  ‘Shh, shh!’ She smiled.

  ‘I should never have let you. I should have just—’

  ‘David,’ she interrupted, ‘I would never have forgiven myself if I’d let you go through this alone. Now, please, stop fussing. I told you, it was just a dizzy spell – nothing to get excited about.’

  His eyes were still wide with alarm. ‘Have you had them before?’ he asked, knowing he wouldn’t believe her if she said no.

  ‘Yes, I have,’ she told him. ‘And I’ve already seen a doctor, which is how I know the
re’s nothing to get excited about. Now, off you go and leave me . . .’

  ‘No way am I out of here now,’ he cried.

  ‘I would like to lie down for a while,’ she said, laughing.

  ‘Then I’ll wait outside.’

  Shaking her head in exasperation, she said, ‘I will never be able to sleep knowing you’re pacing up and down out there and getting in everyone’s hair.’

  ‘Sylvia,’ he said, ‘since when have you started taking naps in the afternoon?’

  ‘Since this started,’ she said. ‘A few months, I suppose.’

  ‘I want to see your doctor,’ he declared. ‘I want to speak to him myself.’

  ‘David, I promise you, I’m not going anywhere yet. So off you go back to France . . .’

  ‘Forget it,’ he said.

  ‘But Penny’s back tomorrow. She’ll be wanting to talk to you about LA.’

  ‘Then she’ll have to wait, because there’s no way in this world I’m leaving London until I’ve spoken to your doctor and found out for myself just how serious this is.’

  Chapter 13

  PENNY CAME AWAKE with a start and looked up to find the stewardess standing over her, asking if she would like breakfast.

  ‘Um, no, um, just tea, thank you,’ Penny said, straightening herself up and trying to shake away the cobwebs. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Seven-thirty,’ the stewardess answered. ‘We’ll be arriving at Nice in just over an hour. Are you sure there’s nothing else I can get you, besides tea?’

  ‘No, just tea, thanks,’ Penny smiled.

  The stewardess turned back up the aisle and Penny fumbled around in the stack of newspapers and magazines on the seat beside her for the complimentary flight bag. She badly needed to clean her teeth and stretch her legs after this seemingly endless journey back to France. It felt as though she’d left Los Angeles a week ago rather than – she looked at her watch – well, however many hours it was . . . she was hopeless at working out time differences. Anyway, she’d had a long wait for her connection to Nice at New York and just at this moment she couldn’t remember if it was Friday or Saturday.

  By the time she returned to her seat she was feeling a little less groggy, though desperately in need of a shower. It wouldn’t be long now, though, she reminded herself, and smiled at the wonderful shiver of excitement that penetrated her heart.

  It had been a successful trip, one that she was now glad she’d made, since it had done her good to get away for a while. She’d met up with all the people David had put her in touch with, most of whom had passed her on to those she really needed to speak to. But David had opened the doors with his endless contacts and Pauline Fields had swept her out of the Four Seasons Hotel within days of her arrival and installed her in one of the guest rooms of her Bel Air mansion.

  She’d had a great time, socially as well as professionally, and was now much more enamoured of Los Angeles than she’d been after previous visits. Actually, she’d never really been able to get the hang of the States and she couldn’t quite work out why. It wasn’t as if she didn’t like the people, because on the whole she did, as long as she remembered that British irony didn’t always travel too well. Still, she wasn’t going to fall into the American trap of analysing every little thing she did or felt: the fact was that until this trip she’d always felt cut off, lonely and completely out of her depth in the States, despite the fact they all spoke the same language. What was important now was that she had made arrangements for several freelance film reviewers to furnish her with their critiques as and when the movies were released, which meant they would be available to Nuance way in advance of the cinema presentations in France. She’d also struck deals with gossip writers, who’d agreed to let her edit their columns for Nuance – with the proviso she make it known they were edited. She couldn’t take the columns in their entirety, since her readers probably wouldn’t have heard of most of the Americans featured. But still, there would be plenty of material there she could use and it was a column she was looking forward to taking charge of.

  As the captain’s voice came over the PA system Penny took out a compact and touched up her lipstick. David would be waiting at the airport. Those moments beside the pool before Sammy had made her timely arrival had played themselves through Penny’s mind several times while she was away and she could only congratulate herself for not succumbing when the last thing she wanted was to add her name to David Villers’s endless list of conquests. Lust was a pretty powerful thing, especially when someone had gone without for as long as she had – what was it, six months now? She shuddered: an unthinkable amount of time.

  It wasn’t until she was leaving the plane and making her way to the arrivals hall that the dreaded lethargy began dragging through her limbs. Flying always had played havoc with her system and it seemed that this time was going to prove no exception. Sometimes it could be days, even weeks, before she was back on an even keel. Not sleeping, wanting to throw up, getting paranoid about nothing: you name it, she did it, all on account of jet lag. With any luck, though, she was going to be too busy to let it get the better of her.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, finding Pierre waiting for her outside the baggage claim. ‘I thought David was coming to get me. Not,’ she added with a laugh as she kissed him on both cheeks, ‘that I’m not pleased to see you. How are things at the office?’

  Pierre looked troubled, but then if he ever displayed an emotion that was it, so Penny didn’t take much notice.

  ‘Marielle been behaving herself, has she?’ she said, allowing him to take charge of her trolley and lead the way to the car.

  ‘There are a few things we need to discuss,’ Pierre said sombrely, ‘which is why I’ve come to get you.’

  ‘Oh dear, that sounds ominous,’ Penny remarked, trying to make light of it when her heart was already thudding with apprehension. ‘What’s happened? What has she done? I thought I’d left everything in order for the next couple of issues. Don’t tell me she’s gone and screwed it all up.’

  ‘Not exactly,’ Pierre answered, unlocking the boot of his car and throwing in Penny’s suitcase. ‘Do you want to go home or shall I take you to the office?’ he asked, opening the passenger door.

  ‘Maybe you’d better tell me,’ Penny said, getting in. ‘What’s going on, Pierre? Where’s David?’

  She didn’t get an answer until Pierre had slipped in behind the wheel and started the engine. ‘David’s over in London,’ he told her gravely. ‘He won’t be back for a while.’

  ‘Why? Oh God, Pierre, you’re making me nervous. What’s been happening? Why isn’t David coming back?’

  ‘He’s staying with Sylvia. She had a bit of a turn a couple of days ago and he doesn’t want to leave her.’

  ‘What sort of a turn?’ Penny demanded, her eyes wide with concern.

  ‘Nothing serious, apparently, but he’s going to stay a while.’

  ‘But she’s all right? Nothing’s—’

  ‘She’s all right,’ Pierre assured her. ‘But you know how fond David is of her, she’s like a mother to him, and he wants to spend some time with her. Which is why I’m here to pick you up and why I have to discuss with you what’s happened while you were away, since I don’t want to bother David with it right now.’

  ‘Pierre!’ Penny cried when he stopped. ‘For heaven’s sake come to the point, will you?’

  ‘The point,’ he said, as they joined the autoroute heading for Cannes, ‘is that we’re in danger of having a fairly serious lawsuit slapped on us.’

  ‘Lawsuit?’ Penny echoed incredulously. ‘What for, for God’s sake? Oh my God, I knew I shouldn’t have left Marielle in charge. What’s she done?’

  ‘It wasn’t Marielle,’ Pierre said. ‘It was your sister, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Sammy? But Sammy’s not in a position to—’

  ‘It was her column,’ Pierre said. ‘She advised some woman to take a blunt instrument to her unfaithful husband and I’m afraid the woman’s done ju
st that.’

  Penny looked at him, dumbfounded. ‘Jesus Christ Almighty,’ she mumbled, wanting to strangle Sammy even though she was already beginning to get a picture of what had happened. ‘But how on earth did it go to press?’

  ‘I don’t know the ins and outs of it yet,’ Pierre answered. ‘It just blew up yesterday. But what I do know is that Sammy’s disappeared and Marielle is demanding your resignation.’

  ‘What?’ Penny cried furiously. ‘Take me to the office, Pierre. I want to see that woman now!’

  Half an hour later Marielle was standing in front of Penny’s desk not even attempting to disguise the disdain in her smile.

  ‘I always knew,’ Penny said in a dangerously low voice, ‘that if I gave you enough rope you’d hang yourself, but what I want to know is what made you think you could possibly get away with this.’

  ‘How I could get away with it?’ Marielle laughed incredulously. ‘It was your sister who wrote it. And it was you, Penny, who insisted she have the job.’ She looked at her nails. ‘I was never in agreement, as you know, and now look what she’s done.’

  ‘Marielle,’ Penny said, pronouncing her name with great deliberation, ‘you seem to be missing the point here. Both issues published while I was away were checked and cleared by me before I left, so I know what was in Sammy’s columns and neither of them contained the advice that has gone to press. So that can only lead me to conclude that you, Marielle, made a last-minute change.’

  Marielle’s lip curled in disgust. ‘For someone who’s screwed up on her own editorials . . .’

  Penny’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘My mistake did not go to press—’

  ‘Because I spotted it before it got that far,’ Marielle cut in triumphantly. ‘And it leads me to conclude that you aren’t doing your job properly and that you didn’t double-check the problem page.’

  Penny looked at her long and hard. ‘Where did you find the column?’ she asked. ‘Was it here, in my desk? Yes, I thought as much,’ she said when Marielle coloured. ‘And you know full well that it was a column Sammy gave me months ago as a joke.’