by Susan Lewis
‘You came here, cara, because you believed that one way or the other it would benefit you. My fortune or Laurence McAllister. Perhaps both. But you are going to use neither his wife, nor my fortune to get what you want.’
‘But you invited me . . .’
‘Of course. Always I have wanted to make love to you. You know that. You are a beautiful woman, what man would not want to make love to you? And you, mia bella, are a Venus. You make love as though you were the goddess herself, but as you see, it is not so easy to outfox Zaccheo Marigliano. I have eyes that see right through to your heart, and your heart, Kirsten Meredith, is greedy for material prizes.’ He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Maybe it is greedier still for Laurence McAllister.’
Laurence was standing beside the bed staring sightlessly down at Pippa’s note. Despite her protests that she was all right he had cancelled his flight to New Orleans and come straight back to London. And now, God help him, he wished he hadn’t for had he known he was coming back to this then he might never have come back at all. But maybe he had known, maybe in truth it was the fear of this that had driven his need to see her to the point of desperation. But how could he have known when in his heart he had truly believed that she loved him.
Yet strangely, he thought distantly to himself, it all seemed to fit into place now. Her accusing him of having affairs was because of the guilt she was suffering at her own affair. He winced at the sudden bolt of jealousy that lurched through his gut as in his mind’s eye he saw her in Zaccheo’s arms. Jesus Christ, all this time she’d wanted him to fall for someone else, because it would have made it easier for her to leave him. The fact that she was always so irritable with Tom was only because she’d resented him for making her feel so bad about her imminent desertion. How long had she been planning this? How long had she been lying to him?
He leaned against the dressing table and stared down at the faint rings in the dust left by the things she had taken. Why was it only now that he was understanding all that she had done for him? Had he truly been so ignorant of the fact that it was only because of her that he had been able to handle all that happened with Kirsten? To shut it out and pretend it had never happened.
Sinking down onto the stool he buried his face in his hands. Kirsten! Kirsten! Kirsten! He should have known that something like this would happen as soon as she came back. For weeks now it had been as though he was facing an eclipse of his own emotions and his love and need for Pippa was blinding him still to the bitter deceit of his life. Except now, and perhaps only now, he realized, there was no deceit. He loved Pippa, truly loved her.
The shock of her going made him nauseous. Did Tom know yet that she was gone? For sure he’d know she was on a trip, but had anyone told him that Mummy wasn’t coming back? A surge of protective love wrapped itself around his heart and without thinking what he was doing, he took himself to Tom’s room and sat down on the bed beside him.
His throat started to tighten. Where in the hell were they going to be without her? What life was there for these two guys without the woman they loved? He gazed down at the innocent, childish face and felt the defencelessness of those tender limbs and the untroubled joy of the tiny heart pierce through him like a knife. He could almost feel Tom’s delight when he woke to see his Daddy watching over him. They always had had a closeness that some said was unusual for a father and son of Tom’s age, and now Laurence couldn’t help wondering if Pippa had deliberately pushed them together knowing that in the end they would need and console each other when she had gone.
Unable to stop himself Laurence lifted Tom into his arms and held him tightly. Drowsily Tom pushed his arms around Laurence’s neck and settled his head on his shoulder. Laurence smoothed his hair, kissed him softly on the cheek and only just resisted the urge to squeeze him with the full force of his love. Pippa, he was crying inside, Dear God, Pippa, please let this be some kind of joke. Please let me open my eyes and find you sitting there, laughing at me . . .
A few minutes later he heard Jane come into the room. He kept his head averted, not wanting her to see the tears on his cheeks.
‘Dermott Campbell’s on the phone,’ Jane said quietly.
‘Tell him I’ll call him back,’ Laurence answered gruffly. But as Jane was turning to leave he remembered that Dermott had tried to get hold of him in the States. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I’ll take it.’
Gently he handed Tom over to Jane and went into his bedroom to take the call.
‘At last!’ Campbell’s voice boomed down the line making Laurence wince. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you for days. I just heard you were back so I called to tell you the latest.’
‘And what’s that?’ Laurence asked dully.
‘I guess you didn’t see my column at the weekend,’ Campbell said. ‘No, well, I don’t suppose you would have jet-setting around the world the way you do. Incidently, how did it go over there in LA? Anything doing?’
‘It was OK,’ Laurence answered. He took a deep breath. ‘Look, Dermott, do you think we can get to the point here?’
‘Sure. The point is, my friend, that the Kirstie Doll is over there in Italy getting laid by none other than Zaccheo Marigliano! And you don’t need me to tell you who Marigliano’s editor is. And who is Marigliano’s editor married to? Are you following me, Laurence? Kirsten Meredith is trying new tactics. She’s got your nanny, she’s getting your best friend, next thing you know she’s going to be pally, pally with your wife. So at the risk of telling you I told you so . . .’
All the time Campbell had been talking Laurence had felt a burning rage running through his veins and suddenly it erupted. ‘For your fucking information, Dermott,’ he seethed, ‘my wife is out there getting laid by Zaccheo Marigliano herself. So get your fucking facts straight. And get the fucking hell off my back about Kirsten Meredith or . . .’
‘What!’ Campbell gasped. ‘What did you say? Did I hear you right? Pippa’s out there . . .’
‘You heard me.’
‘You mean . . .? Are you telling me you two . . .? Shit, Laurence! What the hell’s going on here? I thought you two . . .?’
‘Yeah, well you thought wrong. Seems we both did.’
‘Oh, Christ, Laurence, I don’t know what to say. I mean, are you sure you’ve got this right, ’cos I’m telling you the Kirstie Doll’s out there too.’
‘I couldn’t give a fucking damn where Kirsten Meredith is,’ Laurence raged. ‘My wife’s walked out on me, she’s shacking up with my best friend, as you call him . . .’
‘I’m coming round there,’ Campbell interrupted.
‘Don’t. I got to have some time to think this through . . .’
‘You can think about it later. Right now you need to get drunk.’
‘That’s the last thing I need. I got a son here, remember. He needs me right now.’
‘He’s got a nanny!’
‘He’s about to lose his mother, for Christ’s sake! And I’ve got to do something to stop that happening. So stay where you are, Dermott. I’ll call you when I’m ready.’
He slammed down the phone and was about to turn away from the bed when his eye was caught by the note he had dropped there. He picked it up, crushing it in his fist. It wasn’t over yet. Oh no, it was a long way from over. The debilitating shock and anger would wear off soon enough, but he knew that even before that he was going to do everything it was humanly possible to do to get his wife back. He had to because he just couldn’t bear life without her.
Like the captive of a painting she sat immobile in her frame of solid darkness. Though her hands didn’t move the silky smoothness of the photograph was cool beneath her fingertips. Little pools of light glimmered happily on the surface lending an almost ethereal quality to the beautifully expressive eyes. The warmth from her skin seemed to seep into the gloss bringing the beloved face to life. She could almost hear the laughter bubbling from the parted lips, feel the joy reflecting itself in her heart. She smiled, dreamily, but then, as her eyes closed, instea
d of seeing the wondrous images of the past a shadow of fear darkened her thoughts.
Things were changing. So much was happening. Nothing was in her control. What would become of her baby? And as though sensing her distress the baby started to cry. The sound of its wails echoed through her ears, gently at first then louder and still louder, until it was as though her mind was being lashed by the cruel shards of a punishment undeserved. She bunched her fists at the sides of her face. She had to go to it, she had to. But she couldn’t. . . . .
10
‘So what do you think?’ Kirsten said, bunching her thick hair behind her head as she looked up from the stack of papers scattered across the table. ‘I say Zeus and the Titanesses is perfect for the opening programme.’
‘I like the story of Persephone better,’ Helena said.
‘No.’ Kirsten was shaking her head as she picked up a slice of cold pizza. ‘It’s a great story, but it’s not powerful enough to launch with.’
‘OK. You know best,’ Helena yawned. ‘But at the risk of repeating myself, Kirstie, I reckon you’re overreaching . . .’
‘I know what you think, but why not aim high?’
‘But this,’ Helena laughed, sweeping her hand over the table, ‘is mammoth. I mean, nothing like it’s ever been done before – putting modern day interpretations on to Greek myths. Who are you going to get to write it, to start with?’
‘I’ve a few names in mind,’ Kirsten answered dismissively, ‘and I’ve started the script for the Titanesses myself. I’ll let you read it when I’m happier with it.’ She bit into the pizza. ‘Now, let’s go on to Artemis and Orion. The way I see it . . .’
‘Kirstie! It’s nearly midnight, for God’s sake, can’t we take a break?’
‘But Artemis and Orion is a terrific story. According to one version, the one I’m going to use, she ends up killing him . . .’
‘I know, and if you don’t stop I’m going to end up killing you. We’ve been at this all day, all week! Isn’t there any light relief to be had around here?’
‘Not when light relief to you means discussing the break up of Laurence’s marriage,’ Kirsten said, putting the slice of pizza down as her appetite vanished.
‘But all this work,’ Helena protested, ‘can’t you see, it’s you running away from things?’
‘No! It’s me getting my life back in order.’
‘And how the hell are you going to raise the colossal sums you’ll need when you’ve got Dyllis blasting all your arrows before they even reach the target?’
‘Had we not just been discussing Artemis I’d have said that was a poor metaphor,’ Kirsten remarked. ‘But as we were it’ll suffice.’
‘Kirsten! Listen to me. You might be able to convince the rest of the world that Laurence and Pippa’s break up means nothing to you, but . . .’
‘Helena, I don’t want to discuss it. Besides which, you heard what Jane said earlier, he’s going over to Italy tomorrow to try to get her back. He’ll probably succeed so . . .’
‘But what if he doesn’t?’
‘I don’t know,’ Kirsten cried.
‘But you’re still in love with the man!’
‘OK, but after what just happened with Zaccheo – I take it you are aware of the fact that this is the second time in my life I’ve lost a man to Pippa McAllister?’
‘Yes,’ Helena answered. ‘I expect you’d like to kill her again now, wouldn’t you?’ she grinned.
‘Believe you me, for a while there I could have been tempted. But I’ll just have to content myself with never testing the waters of romance again – and especially not with Laurence. Rejection hurts, Helena. It not only hurts it can cause a lot of damage, lasting damage.’
‘I know that. But . . .’
‘Back to Artemis and Orion,’ Kirsten interrupted. ‘I reckon you’d be perfect for the part of Artemis and John Callway for Orion.’
‘I thought you had me earmarked for one of the Titanesses?’
‘I have, but what’s to stop you taking on both roles?’
‘Only that they’re never going to happen.’
‘Why are you being so negative?’ Kirsten almost shouted.
‘Because you’re not going to be able to do this, Kirsten! You’re not! Do you hear me?’
‘Then what the hell do you want me to do? Persuade myself that Laurence and I can make a go of it, when you and I both know that that’s even less likely than me getting this series off the ground.’
‘Oh God, I don’t know what I want you to do,’ Helena sighed, pushing her fingers into the mass of frizzy black hair.
‘Go to bed, Helena. Go to bed and try to get up in a better mood tomorrow.’
‘And what about Jane? What kind of mood do you think she’s going to be in tomorrow?’
‘Helena, please, don’t do this,’ Kirsten said, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her heart. ‘I had no choice but to remind Jane that she’s only going to get herself into more trouble with Laurence if she goes behind his back the way she suggested. I did it for her own good.’
‘She was pretty upset though. I felt kind of sorry for her.’
‘Don’t you think I did? But while Campbell’s writing all his stuff about me being responsible for the problems in Laurence’s marriage I don’t see what else I could have done. You must have noticed how nutty she is about him. Why else do you think she’s taken his break up with Pippa so hard? Because Laurence is hurting and she just can’t bear to see it. She practically worships the man and she just hasn’t got what it takes to stand up to his temper. And believe you me, if she keeps coming here and he finds out he’ll fire her.’
‘Mmm, I guess you’re right. But she’s pretty nuts about you too.’
‘She’ll get over it.’
‘OK, have it your way, I’m off to bed. And don’t work too late.’
When Helena had gone upstairs Kirsten walked over to the kettle and filled it. She was so tired she felt she could sleep for a week, yet she knew that the second her head touched the pillow she would come wide awake again.
She sighed heavily. It really was hard work having Helena around right now. Not that she didn’t want her there, being alone at this time would probably only make matters worse, but she wished Helena would stop trying to make her confront things she just wanted to forget. But no amount of coaxing on Helena’s part was going to get her to confess to how frightened she was really feeling, for once she gave into the fear she knew there was every chance she would be right back to where she was five years ago when she and Laurence had split up, and she really didn’t think she could come through it a second time.
But Paul’s death, Laurence’s hatred, Dyllis’s campaign, Zaccheo’s rejection – it was all starting to get to her now in a way she recognized only too well. It was too late to stop the terrible feelings of insecurity, they were with her already, maybe they had never really left her, but it wasn’t something she wanted to show the world. What she wanted, perhaps more than anything else, was that Laurence would get back with Pippa, because the idea of him being free was something Kirsten knew she would be unable to handle.
Pippa was curled into one corner of the huge leather sofa in Zaccheo’s drawing room, hugging her knees to her chest as though to protect herself. Laurence was standing at the centre of the room, his face as thunderous as the gathering storm outside, his very appearance a reflection of the pain she had caused him. There was no mistaking the fact that between them she and Zaccheo had shattered his life and Pippa knew that Zaccheo would feel every bit as bad about that as she did.
Earlier Laurence had asked her how long it had been going on between her and Zaccheo, and not wanting to lie to him any more Pippa had told him. Almost two years. She had seen the way her betrayal had cut into him, could read his thoughts as clearly as if he had spoken them. He had trusted her, believed in her love as he had always believed in her fidelity. It was as though she had torn out the very roots of his life, leaving him disoriented, confused
and yes, devastated. Her heart weighed heavily in her. She felt she might drown in remorse, yet she knew that no matter what he said, no matter how much he was suffering she wouldn’t go back to him. She was where she wanted to be, where she had always, for the past two years, known she would eventually come. It had simply been a matter of choosing the right time.
Laurence had walked to the window and was now staring out at the rain spattered garden. His whole demeanour was one of barely restrained anger, but Pippa knew he was fighting it. She longed to go to him, to lend him the comfort of her arms, but knew that would be the wrong thing to do. He had to get used to the fact that she would no longer be there for him, that his troubles were his own and that whatever the future held he must face it alone.
‘What about Tom?’ he said, his gruffness piercing the silence.
The pain seared Pippa’s heart. ‘What about him?’ she whispered.
Laurence spun round. ‘What about him?’ he seethed. ‘He’s your son, for Christ’s sake! Your own flesh and blood.’
‘He’s yours too,’ she said simply. And when Laurence only glared at her, she added, ‘He’s more yours than mine. He always was,’ but the tears had already started in her eyes.
‘Pip, please,’ he implored, ‘you love him as much as I do, so if only for his sake let’s try again.’
Pippa buried her face in her knees, but Laurence saw the barely perceptible shake of her head.
‘I don’t understand it!’ he cried, slamming his fist into the wall. ‘I thought we really had something you and I. I thought you were happy, as happy as I was. For God’s sake, why didn’t you tell me if you weren’t?’
‘I was,’ Pippa choked. ‘I loved you, Laurence. I still do, but just not in the way I love . . .’ her voice trailed off and Laurence’s eyes closed as a wave of jealousy swept through him.
‘But what about before I went to the States? Shit, Pippa, I thought we’d recaptured everything then. We were so close, so . . .’
