Guilty

by Anne Mather

  Julie’s signature was squeezed at the bottom, and Laura bent her head towards the card to make sure it was her daughter’s name that was signed there. Of course it was. Who else was likely to write to her from Hollywood? Besides, it all fitted—except the bit about the trip. She swallowed. Good lord, didn’t Julie know she had gone to Italy without her? Had Jake been expected to cancel the arrangements?

  Julie hadn’t put a date on the card, but as another thought occurred to her Laura tried to decipher the postmark. After all, the card had travelled all the way from California. For it to be lying on her mat, it had to have been posted several days ago. But how many days?

  After coping with the fact that the United States reversed the date and the month of the year, Laura eventually worked out that the card had been posted in Los Angeles more than ten days ago. Which probably meant Julie had left for the States before Jake had telephoned her.

  She breathed a little faster. So he had been expected to tell her the trip was off. So far as Julie was concerned, it hadn’t happened. But, could she seriously be considering staying in California? What about her career? What about—Jake?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THAT question haunted Laura in the days to come, days that dragged interminably, until it was time to go back to school. There was no one she could discuss it with, no one she could confide in. Even Jess was unavailable, having taken advantage of the mid-term break to have a short holiday with her husband.

  Not that Laura was convinced she would have confided in Jess anyway. After all, she had only told her friend she was accompanying Julie on a visit to her proposed in-laws. She had said virtually nothing about the fact that Jake was going with them. Oh, it had probably been taken for granted, she realised that, but what would Jess think if she told her she’d gone with him alone?

  Well, she could imagine what Jess would think, Laura conceded. What anyone would think, given the circumstances. That she was desperate for a man, she acknowledged glumly. That even though she had known her daughter was away, she had jumped at the chance to take her place.

  She refused to consider why Jake had chosen to deceive her. It seemed fairly obvious to her. After his abortive trip to the cottage, he had obviously given up the idea of seeing her again, but this opportunity had been too good to miss. And she had made it so easy for him—believing his ready lies, and saying nothing to embarrass his parents…

  Back at school, it was easier to pretend that nothing had changed. There, no one but Mark knew she had spent a weekend away. And he didn’t know all the details. She had simply said she was going to stay with Julie.

  Nevertheless, he did ask her about her trip when he caught her in the staff-room one morning. ‘I hope you didn’t spend the whole weekend running after Julie,’ he said, risking another rebuff, but for once Laura couldn’t meet his eyes.

  ‘No. No, I didn’t,’ she said, gathering her books together, and preparing to depart. ‘It—er—it was very pleasant actually. A nice—break.’

  ‘Well, good.’ To her dismay, Mark accompanied her out of the door. ‘It’s about time she started looking after you for a change. Does this mean you’ll be seeing more of one another from now on? I must say Mother thinks you should.’

  Laura couldn’t prevent a spurt of irritation that Mark should have been discussing her and Julie with his mother, but it didn’t last. If that was all that he had to talk about, why get annoyed about it? They probably had her best interests at heart. Or Mark did, anyway. She wasn’t so sure about Mrs Leith.

  ‘As—as a matter of fact, Julie may be going to work in California,’ she admitted, not knowing exactly why she should want to tell him that, and Mark frowned.

  ‘You mean—on a modelling assignment?’

  ‘Well—no.’ Laura wondered if she simply wanted to say it out loud, to prove it to herself. ‘I think she’d like to become an actress. You know: films and all that.’

  Mark stared at her. ‘You mean, she’s going out to California on the off chance that she might—–?’

  ‘No.’ Laura sighed, wishing now that she hadn’t confided in him. ‘Not on the off chance. She’s been invited to have a screen test. Apparently David Conti—–’

  ‘David Conti?’ Mark arched his sandy eyebrows. ‘She knows David Conti?’

  Laura could feel the beginning of a headache starting in her temples. ‘Yes,’ she said wearily. ‘I believe she was introduced to him in London. But now, I’ll—–’

  ‘David Conti!’ Mark said the name again and shook his head. ‘My God! I wonder how she met him.’

  Laura knew she should just leave it there. She wasn’t in the mood for long discussions, but unwillingly Mark had piqued her interest. ‘Why?’ she asked, giving in to the curiosity he had kindled. ‘Who is David Conti? I don’t think I’ve heard of him.’

  ‘Of course you have.’ Mark frowned now, evidently trying to think of a way to spark her memory. ‘That film we saw at the Gallery, about six months ago. You remember? God, I can’t recall what it was called, but it had won an award at Cannes. A black comedy, about eastern European rapprochement. Very topical, as it’s turned out. Damn, what was it called?’

  ‘Social Graces?’ suggested Laura doubtfully, and Mark pounced on her words.

  ‘Yes. That was it. Social Graces. Well, Conti produced that film—and many others, of course. He’s an Italian, I believe, though he spends most of his time in the United States.’

  Laura’s mouth went dry. ‘An Italian?’

  ‘Yes.’ Mark nodded. ‘Why? Did you meet him?’

  ‘Heavens, no.’ But Laura could feel the betraying colour deepening in her cheeks. ‘I—was just surprised, that’s all. Julie didn’t mention that he was an Italian.’

  ‘Is it important?’ Mark was curious now, but Laura decided she had said enough.

  ‘Only to Julie,’ she managed lightly, pretending to straighten the pile of exercise books in her hands. ‘Now, I really must go. My third-years will be climbing the walls!’

  ‘Will I see you this week?’ Mark called, as she started down the corridor, and Laura turned back rather reluctantly.

  ‘Maybe—maybe next week,’ she said, forcing an apologetic smile. ‘With being away, I seem to have such a lot to catch up on at home. And you know how tiring housework can be.’

  Nevertheless, she half wished she had agreed to go out with Mark when she got up on Saturday morning. The weekend stretched ahead of her, stark and uninspiring, and tackling household chores seemed the least attractive part of it.

  Not that they took long. Despite what she had said to Mark, since her return from Italy she had had plenty of time to clean the house. Until she started back at school, it had been one way to fill all the hours in the day. He couldn’t know that the last two weeks had seemed the longest two weeks in her life. It was hard to believe it was only fourteen days since she had left the cottage to go to the airport, in the limousine that had been hired for her. So much seemed to have happened in that time, and falling in love with Jake was no small part of it.

  She was working in the garden, when she heard footsteps coming along the path that ran along the side of the cottage. She wasn’t expecting anybody. She had even refrained from ringing Jess, because she hadn’t wanted to get involved in awkward explanations. She assumed she would have to tell her friend one day. But, hopefully, not yet.

  Now, however, she got up from her weeding, and looked rather apprehensively towards the sound of the footsteps. Her heart leapt briefly at the memory of another Saturday, when Jake had arrived so unexpectedly, but somehow she knew her visitor wasn’t him. The footsteps sounded too feminine, she thought uneasily. And although it might be Mrs Forrest, she wasn’t really convinced.

  Even so, she still felt a sense of shock, when Julie appeared around the corner of the house. The suspicion that it might be her daughter had already occurred to her but, nevertheless, seeing her doubts realised still caused a flutter of panic.

  Not that Julie seemed at all
unfriendly, as she came to the edge of the small sunlit patio, and subjected her mother to a resigned stare. On the contrary, she looked rather pleased with herself, and her attitude towards Laura was as patronising as ever.

  ‘Whatever do you look like?’ she exclaimed, making the older woman instantly aware of her mud-smeared dungarees, and sweat-streaked face. ‘Don’t you ever feel like wearing something—attractive?’

  Laura stiffened. ‘Sometimes,’ she said, her own guilt not quite sufficient to quell her indignation. ‘I’m gardening, Julie. You don’t get dressed up to do gardening. You should try it yourself and see.’

  ‘No, thanks.’ Julie changed the green suede bag she was carrying from one shoulder to the other, and grimaced. She flicked an insect from the skirt of her striped crepe suit, and visibly preened at the satisfying length of shapely leg below its short hem. ‘I’ve got much better things to do.’

  ‘Really?’

  Laura found she couldn’t keep the cynicism out of her voice, and Julie’s expression hardened. ‘Yes, really,’ she said, tapping an annoyed foot. ‘So—are you going to come indoors and offer me a cup of tea, or what? This is just a flying visit, I’m afraid. I’ve got to be back in London tomorrow morning. But I thought I ought to see you, before I go.’

  ‘Go?’ Laura blinked. ‘Go where?’

  ‘Back to Los Angeles, of course!’ exclaimed Julie, glancing impatiently up at the sun, and then backing into the shade of the cottage doorway. ‘Didn’t you get my card?’

  ‘Your card?’ Laura stared blankly at her daughter, and then gathered herself sufficiently to follow her into the kitchen. ‘Well—yes. Yes, I got your card.’ She moistened her dry lips. ‘But I didn’t—you didn’t—–’

  ‘I did tell you about David, didn’t I?’ Julie broke in, somewhat irritably. ‘David Conti? The producer?’ she added, emphasising the words, as she would to a rather backward child. ‘I know I told you about having a screen test, when I phoned you about going to Italy. Oh—sorry about that, by the way.’ She pulled a wry face. ‘Still, I don’t think I was cut out to be a contessa!’

  Laura reached for the kettle, but it was an automatic action. She was hardly aware of what she was doing, and only when it started to hiss did she realise she hadn’t filled it with water before plugging it in.

  But had Julie really said she wasn’t going to marry Jake? she wondered distractedly, almost scalding her hand as she took off the lid to fill the kettle. It certainly sounded that way, but she had been wrong before.

  ‘Are you listening to me?’

  Julie’s complaining tone reminded Laura that she had indeed been allowing her mind to wander, and swallowing her confusion, she managed to shake her head. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, steadying the rattle of the cups, as she took them out of the cupboard. ‘I was just—so surprised, when you said you’d—changed your mind.’

  ‘Changed my mind?’ Julie frowned now, and Laura expelled the breath she had been holding rather quickly.

  ‘Well—yes,’ she said, feeling the heat invading her throat. ‘I mean—you did say you wanted to marry Jake, didn’t you?’

  Julie sniffed. ‘Oh, him!’ She lifted her slim shoulders. ‘I haven’t seen him since before I left for the States.’

  ‘No, but—–’

  ‘Oh, Mum!’ Julie looked angry now. ‘I’d rather not talk about Jake Lombardi, if you don’t mind. Let’s just say he and I have very little in common. I was wrong. I admit it. Let that be an end to it.’

  Laura drew her lower lip between her teeth. ‘But—I don’t understand. I thought—I mean, you said he was the one!’

  ‘Oh, God!’ Julie groaned. ‘Haven’t you ever made a mistake?’ Then her eyes glinted. ‘Of course you have. How could we forget?’

  ‘Julie—–’

  ‘All right, all right. That was below the belt. I’m sorry. But talking about Jake Lombardi brings out the worst in me. I thought he was in love with me, if you must know. But he wasn’t. End of story.’

  ‘He wasn’t?’ Laura knew she was risking a row with her daughter, but she had to pursue it. ‘But—he did invite you to go to Italy with him.’

  ‘Did he?’ Julie didn’t sound convinced. ‘I suspect that invitation emanated from his parents. In any event, I don’t think he had any intention of following it through.’

  ‘You don’t?’ Laura could hear the kettle starting to boil behind her, but she paid it no heed.

  ‘No.’ Julie flung herself into a chair at the table, and propped her photogenic features on her knuckles. ‘You see, it turns out that David is Jake’s second cousin, or some distant relation like that. My guess is that Jake used that connection to get me off his back.’

  ‘I see.’

  Laura at last heard the kettle boiling, and turned to make the tea. It was quite a relief to do so, although her mind was still buzzing with what she had heard. Had Jake really arranged for Julie to have a screen test? Was the invitation to Italy intended for her all along?

  ‘He was too old for me anyway,’ Julie said, behind her, and Laura turned. ‘He was,’ Julie added broodingly, tracing the grain of the pinewood table with a crimson fingernail. ‘I mean, you must have noticed what he was like, when he was here. Telling me what I should or shouldn’t do. Trailing me round all those ancient monuments!’

  Laura filled the teapot, and set it on its stand. ‘You—you did say he was—old-fashioned,’ she ventured. ‘When—when you rang to say he wanted to—to meet me—–’

  ‘Oh, that was all my idea,’ retorted Julie carelessly, helping herself to the milk. ‘I mean—he was the most attractive man I’d ever met. And the richest, if it comes to that. And I’d heard that Italians place a lot of importance on the family. So—knowing what a homely little person you are, I thought for once I’d take advantage of the fact. But—it didn’t work.’

  Laura was staggered. ‘You mean—it wasn’t Jake’s idea to meet me? You weren’t on the point of getting engaged, or anything?’

  ‘I never said we were.’ Viewing her mother’s shocked face, Julie shifted a little resentfully. ‘I might have implied …’ Her voice trailed away. ‘Anyway, I don’t see that it matters. It’s not you who’s been dumped, is it?’

  Laura couldn’t take it in. ‘Are you saying that when you brought Jake here, you weren’t already lovers?’

  ‘Lovers?’ Julie scoffed. ‘What dear old-fashioned words you use, Mum! We weren’t sleeping together, if that’s what you want to know. Though I don’t see why you’re asking. It’s nothing to do with you, is it?’

  Laura sat down rather abruptly. It was all too much to take. Suddenly, the things Jake had said made sense, and she felt a searing pain for her own stupidity. Yet how could she have known he was telling the truth? She was Julie’s mother. It was only natural that she should have believed her daughter. But that didn’t alter the fact that she had probably hurt him deeply. That, whatever his intentions, it was her he had wanted.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  Julie was gazing at her a little curiously now, and Laura realised her feelings must be showing. But what could she expect, when her whole world had been turned upside-down? she thought bleakly. Oh, God! If only she’d known!

  ‘You look awfully pale,’ Julie continued, though the concern was tinged with impatience now. ‘I expect it’s with working outside, in that hot sun. You’d better start looking after yourself, you know. You’re not as young as you used to be.’

  Laura expelled a trembling breath. ‘I’m all right.’

  ‘Oh, well …’ Julie was easily convinced. ‘As long as you know what you’re doing. So—aren’t you going to ask me why I’m going back to California? You seem more concerned with Jake than how successful my screen test was.’

  Laura’s fists clenched on the table. The temptation to tell her daughter why that should be so was almost irresistible. But old habits died hard, and Laura still had no wish to hurt her. Besides, it was too late now to regret the past. That interlude at Cast
ellombardi would remain her secret. Not a guilty one any more, just a poignant memory…

  Almost a week later, Laura found Mrs Forrest waiting for her when she got home from school.

  It had been another long week, enlivened only by the fact that it was one week nearer the summer holidays. And, from Laura’s point of view, the holidays themselves would give her far too much time to brood about her mistakes. But she was hoping to get away for a couple of weeks at least, and she was clinging to the belief that time would heal all wounds.

  However, finding Mrs Forrest sitting in her living-room, when she opened the cottage door, dispelled any personal considerations. Something was wrong, she thought. She knew it. Mrs Forrest’s anxious expression, as she got to her feet, convinced her of that.

  ‘Is it Julie?’ she asked, dry-mouthed, only capable of one conclusion. Something must have happened to her daughter. She had no one else.

  ‘No—–’ Mrs Forrest put down the handbag she had been clutching on her knee, and took an involuntary step towards her. ‘There was a phone call, Mrs Fox. From—er—from Italy. The caller asked if I would deliver the message personally.’

  Laura’s knees sagged, and she reached for the back of a chair to support herself. ‘From—Italy?’ she got out unevenly. ‘But—I—who—–?’

  ‘It was a lady, Mrs Fox,’ said the cleaning woman eagerly. ‘I think she said her name was Lombardy, is that right? Anyway, she said you’d know who it was. She wants you to call her back. Straight away.’

  Laura caught her breath. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Mrs Forrest nodded. ‘She said immediately. That was the word she used—immediately.’

  ‘No. I mean—about the name? Are you sure it was Lombardi?’ Laura stared at her.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Mrs Forrest was adamant. ‘That was the name all right. You said it just like she did.’ She bent and picked up the pad beside the phone. ‘Look, here’s her number. I jotted it down ever so carefully. She said you can dial it direct. Marvellous, isn’t it? Being able to call somebody all those miles away.’