by Susan Lewis
Shaking Helena’s hand from his arm Laurence turned back to Kirsten. ‘She knows that already,’ he said. ‘I want her to speak to my wife and undo whatever it was she did. I want her to tell Pippa that I’m not in love with her . . .’
‘Not in love with who? Kirsten or Pippa?’
‘Kirsten! Who the hell do you think?’
‘But how can Kirsten know whether or not you’re in love with her – only you know that. So surely it’s up to you to persuade Pippa . . .’
‘Don’t you think I’ve tried?’
‘OK. Well maybe it’s time you tried convincing yourself.’
Laurence stared at her with such profound hostility that Helena almost laughed.
‘All right, all right, I’ve got it now,’ she said. ‘That’s what you’re doing here, isn’t it? You’re here to do just that, convince yourself . . .’
‘Helena,’ he said dangerously, ‘I don’t need convincing. After what she did . . .’
‘What did she do, Laurence? What was it she did that was so bad?’
Laurence’s eyes moved back to Kirsten and seeing the pain on her face his heart churned. ‘She knows what she did,’ he growled, pushing aside the hurt.
Kirsten turned away, but he grabbed her roughly by the arm and turned her back. ‘Why?’ he shouted. ‘Why did you do it?’
‘Laurence,’ Helena said quietly, ‘If you need to deal with it yourself don’t do it this way.’
Laurence’s eyes didn’t move from Kirsten’s face and when finally she brought herself to look back at him she could see his anguish, confusion and pain. ‘I can’t ever forgive you, you know that don’t you?’ he said.
‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘It’s why I can’t ever forgive myself.’
Seconds later the door closed behind him leaving Kirsten and Helena facing each other in the sudden stillness of the room.
‘I need a drink,’ Helena said turning to the cabinet.
Kirsten lifted a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I need a bit of time to get myself together. But at least you can see now why I couldn’t have called him about the film. I couldn’t have called him about anything.’
Helena sighed heavily. ‘I had no idea he was so bitter about it all,’ she said. ‘I thought, after all this time . . .’
‘I know,’ Kirsten smiled. ‘But maybe it’s a measure of how much he did love me that it could have hurt him so much.’
‘Yeah, well I wouldn’t argue with that.’
13
Laurence woke with a start, the hammering of his heart and almost stifling breathlessness veering him away from the dizzying height of the dream. He was covered in sweat, his entire body was rigid with the force of his desire. Something was digging into his side and as he reached down to remove Tom’s foot he heard himself groan at the excruciating ache in his loins.
He stared into the darkness, looking at but not seeing the light through the curtains that cast strange patterns across his eyes. The sheets clung damply to his limbs, the humid night air was suffocating.
He’d lost count now of how many nights he had woken this way, so submerged in the power of his body’s need, so racked with guilt at the way he had treated her. He should never have spoken to her that way. He should never have spoken to her at all. But he had and now, so many weeks later, his arrogance and cruelty still tore at his mind, just as regret dragged at his heart.
He would never go back to her, he knew that as surely as he knew that Pippa would never come back to him. What he and Kirsten had had was in the past, that chapter of his life was nothing more than a memory that from time to time, like all memories, came back to haunt him.
He turned and pulled Tom gently against him, brushing his lips over the tender, sleep-flushed cheek that pressed against his. There was no room in his heart now for anyone but this child, his son who he loved so much it hurt.
He closed his eyes and swallowed hard on the pain and guilt that rose in his throat. He didn’t love her anymore, he could never love her now, but even as he thought it he could see her eyes as she’d looked up at him and told him why she could never forgive herself. Because he couldn’t forgive her. Goddammit, why had she said that? Didn’t she realize that it just made him hate her all the more? He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. Dear God, what was happening here? Why was it that he just couldn’t let go?
It had all happened such a long time ago, but he knew he would never forget that time, not as long as he lived. And even now, as he lay there in the darkness, he could feel the past embracing him, pulling him into the tortuous memories he’d tried so hard to forget.
He had been going to go back to her – he had been going to end it with Pippa and go back to her. He’d made the decision even before she’d called him. It had nothing to do with the baby, he was going back because he loved her so much he couldn’t live without her.
He’d been on the point of calling her himself when the telephone had rung.
‘Laurence,’ she’d said. ‘Laurence, it’s me,’ and just to hear her voice, as exhausted as it was, had filled his heart so full that for a moment he’d been unable to speak.
‘How are you?’ he said.
For a long time there was only silence. Then in a voice so soft he barely heard her, she said, ‘I’m going to have a baby.’ And then she started to cry. ‘I feel so alone without you, Laurence,’ she sobbed. ‘Why can’t I make myself believe you love someone else?’
‘Kirsten, Kirstie, listen . . .’ he said.
‘You always wanted a baby so much,’ she went on.
‘You always said that, that you wanted us to have a baby. You wanted to be a father, but I’m the wrong mother, aren’t I?’
‘No! Kirstie, listen to me . . .’
‘Do you still want to be a father, Laurence?’
‘Yes. Oh God! Look, stay right where you are, I’m coming round.’
He’d gone straight over only to find she wasn’t at home. He went to Paul’s, but Paul didn’t know where she was either. For three days the two of them had looked for her. Knowing how unbalanced she was, they were both frantic with worry, but no one had seen her and no one had heard from her.
She turned up on the fourth day. She was standing at the window of her apartment when he walked in, using the keys he’d never returned. He made instantly to go to her, but there was something about her that stopped him.
‘I was about to call you,’ she smiled.
‘Where have you been?’ he asked. ‘We’ve been looking for you everywhere.’
Her eyes were glittering in a way that sent a curl of alarm through him. ‘Were you worried about your baby, Laurence?’ she said. ‘The baby with the wrong mother? Well you don’t need to worry anymore. It’s safe now. It’s with Jesus.’
He felt the colour drain from his face even as the derangement contorted hers.
‘I killed it, Laurence,’ she laughed. ‘I killed your baby. I had it scraped from my womb so that I have nothing left of you. I killed it. I killed my baby and you made me do it.’
She’d said so much more, but most of it was lost to him now. All he really remembered was how she had gloated at hurting him so much. Killing the baby was her revenge. She’d lost her mind, he’d known that at the time, just like he’d known that if ever she’d needed his help it was then, but he’d felt such bitterness, such frustration and anger that he’d wanted only to get as far away from her as he could. So he’d turned his back on her, returned to the calmness of his new life with Pippa and left Paul to pick up the pieces.
Now, as Tom stirred sleepily in his arms, Laurence could feel the tears on his cheeks. He knew, because he’d known for a long time now, that it was himself he couldn’t forgive, not Kirsten, it was just that he hadn’t been able to bring himself to face it. All these years he’d hated her for killing a baby that she had wanted even more than he had, but he hated himself more for being the cause of her doing that to herself. He knew her past,
he knew how powerless she was to control the hatred of herself that was brought on by rejection. He’d known too what the first abortion had done to her, but instead of being there for her he had turned and walked away.
Through Paul he had learned of the depth of her suffering and the more she had suffered the more he had hated her. She had filled his life with a guilt so consuming that there had been times he had thought it would destroy him. For years he had blamed her for a crime of which they were as guilty as each other. But they hadn’t been the only ones to pay the price, Dyllis Fisher had lost her husband and because of that Kirsten was still paying. She had nothing in her life now except the inheritance Paul had left her, whereas he, Laurence had his son and his work.
Lifting himself carefully from the bed he went downstairs and poured himself a drink. He’d hurt her so badly back then and now he was doing it again. Her life was a mess and the last thing she needed was him throwing his pain and resentment in her face the way he had. He still wasn’t sure what had driven him to going round there like that, or what he’d really hoped to achieve by confronting her. She’d asked him for nothing, had made no attempt to contact him, yet he’d stormed in there like some kind of mad man and accused her of trying to push her way back into his life. He grimaced. He’d made a prize fool of himself, but feeling a fool was nothing compared to the way he had probably left her feeling. What he wouldn’t give to be able to turn back the clock. But that was something totally beyond his power, so what he must look at now was that which was in his power; in other words what he was going to do to repair all the damage he had done.
Of course he knew the answer, he’d known it for some time, in fact ever since Helena had pointed it out to him, but putting his own neck on the line by helping Kirsten to stand up to Dyllis Fisher was going to bring him the kind of problems that would cause one hell of a lot more than sleepless nights. But he owed her and if he didn’t do something to help her now then his damned guilt was only going to get worse.
The big question though, was would she let him help her? Suddenly he laughed. He knew her so well he could almost hear her response when he offered. As vulnerable and insecure as he knew she was, pride alone would make her refuse him. But he would persevere, he’d make her come work with him on a strictly platonic, totally professional basis. He’d have to make that clear, because he didn’t want her thinking that he might still be in love with her. He wasn’t, nor was he ever likely to be, not now. Still, it was something they’d have to discuss, and not for one minute did he think that being around each other all the time was going to be easy, especially not when he was having these damned erotic dreams about her. But those he could handle, what he couldn’t was the guilt. So with any luck working together, achieving something together, might just prove to be the way that both of them could exorcise all the ghosts of the past.
14
‘Laurence! Are you listening to me? Are you receiving me loud and clear? Good, because I don’t want any misunderstandings over what I’m about to say. I’m not a charity case, and neither am I desperate, so we might just as well end this call right now.’
‘If you come to work for me I think we’d better get a few things straight,’ he said.
‘Didn’t you hear me, Laurence? I’m not coming to work for you. I know your ego is finding that difficult to accept, but try.’
‘Kirsten!’
‘Don’t shout at me, Laurence, I don’t have a hearing problem.’
‘I know I’m not handling this too well, but look, I really am sorry about all the things I said . . .’
‘Forget it. It’s not the first time you hurt me, but it’ll be the last,’ and for the fifth time that day she slammed down the receiver and turned to Helena.
‘That’s three days he’s been calling now,’ Helena remarked, ‘and I’m gonna say it again, you’re going to blow it if you keep that up.’
‘Impossible,’ Kirsten answered. Then clapping a hand over her mouth she said, ‘Oh, sorry, did I forget to tell you? I don’t want the job, I’m just enjoying myself making him suffer.’
‘What do you mean you don’t want the job?’ Helena cried. ‘You’re hardly in a position to turn it down.’
‘You’re beginning to sound like him,’ Kirsten commented.
‘Kirstie! He obviously really wants you on that film and as far as I can see, that puts you at an advantage. And let me remind you again, this is a feature we’re talking about. Big time.’
Laughing Kirsten flopped on to the sofa and stretched out her legs. ‘All right, I’ll come clean,’ she said. ‘I will do it, I just think Laurence and I have a few things to iron out before I say yes. Like professionalism. I can’t have him speaking to me or treating me any way he likes just because we were once lovers.’
‘And what about that side of things?’ Helena asked carefully. ‘Do you think you can handle it?’
‘I won’t know until I try. It’s not going to be easy, that’s for sure.’
‘Maybe not for him either.’
Kirsten moved restlessly. ‘Let’s not discuss that,’ she said. ‘The most important thing is that I get that script up together. I looked at it again this afternoon, it’s a pretty good story, but it needs quite a workover. I wonder what Ruby Collins is like?’
Helena didn’t feel that now was the time to relate Jane’s story of how Ruby Collins had whacked the director. Kirsten would find out soon enough what Ruby was like. What interested Helena right now was how Dermott Campbell was going to take it when he found out he’d been replaced by Kirsten Meredith.
‘Incidentally,’ Kirsten said, starting to jot yet more notes on to the script, ‘you’ll be happy to hear that I called Jane this morning. She’s coming over later if she can get away.’ She looked up. ‘You know, I was thinking, maybe we could try to do something about getting a little romance into her life.’
‘You’ve got enough to think about without playing cupid for Jane,’ Helena laughed, getting up to go and look out of the window as someone knocked on the door.
‘You’re right,’ Kirsten grimaced. ‘Like preparing myself for more bad publicity once Dermott Campbell finds out I’m working with Laurence. Come to think of it I wonder if Laurence has thought about that?’
‘Now’s your chance to find out,’ Helena said, letting the curtain fall back into place.
‘No, I don’t want to discuss any of this with Jane,’ Kirsten said.
‘It’s not Jane,’ Helena grinned. ‘It’s the man himself. And bearing gifts from what I could see.’
Kirsten’s heart did such an almighty somersault that whatever she’d been about to say never materialized.
‘Well, do I let him in or don’t I?’ Helena laughed.
‘I don’t know. Let me think!’ Kirsten was suddenly so agitated she didn’t know whether to stand, to sit, to lie down or to scream. ‘Oh, for God’s sake let him in,’ she cried when he jammed his finger on the doorbell and kept it there.
As they slipped into their chairs in a dimly lit corner of the restaurant and a waiter handed them the menus Kirsten was so nervous she knew she’d never be able to eat. However, she was going to try because tonight was the first test as to whether or not she could be around him and keep her feelings in check. If she couldn’t she would have to turn him down, but she wasn’t going to allow herself to think about it too much for she knew that the enormity of what was happening would almost certainly overwhelm her if she dwelled on it.
‘OK,’ Laurence said, putting the menu down. ‘Did you choose yet?’
‘I’ll have the liver,’ Kirsten answered, folding away her menu.
‘But I don’t like liver,’ Laurence objected.
‘Well it’s not you who has to eat it,’ Kirsten declared. Then seeing the way his eyes were dancing she started to smile. Whenever they’d gone to dinner in the past she’d invariably ended up eating his food, leaving him with whatever she’d ordered. ‘It’s OK, I’ll eat it myself,’ she said coolly.
; ‘Good. So, where do you want to start? We can go back over the past, say all the things . . .’
‘No, I don’t want to do that,’ Kirsten interrupted. ‘Let’s just leave it where it is, shall we?’
Laurence looked at her for some time. ‘OK,’ he said at last. ‘But any time you feel you . . .’
‘No, honestly, I don’t think it’ll serve any purpose. We’re colleagues now, not lovers, let’s operate on that level, shall we?’
He nodded his head slowly. ‘Sure,’ he said, glancing up as the waiter passed him the wine list. ‘Red or white?’ he said to Kirsten.
‘White.’
‘But you’re having liver.’
‘I know.’
‘So you want red wine.’
‘Why did you ask me what colour I want if you’re going to make up my mind for me?’
‘I’m not, I’m just saying . . .’
‘Look, if it makes you happy I’ll have red.’
‘No. You want white, you have white,’ and he ordered a 1979 white burgundy.
That done he sat back in his chair and surveyed her. At least that’s what Kirsten thought he was doing until she realized that he was lost in thought.
‘Shall I begin by telling you what ideas I’ve had for the opening scenes?’ she said watching his eyes come back into focus.
He shook his head. ‘No. I’ll begin by admitting that I’ve brought you here under false pretences.’
Kirsten frowned. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, her heart starting to thud. ‘I don’t understand. I thought you wanted me on the film.’
‘I did,’ he answered and Kirsten’s heart plummetted at his use of the past tense. ‘I’m afraid,’ he went on, ‘there isn’t going to be a film.’
‘What?’ She waited as Laurence tasted the wine then nodded for the waiter to pour. ‘Then what’s all this about?’ she said when the waiter had gone.
Laurence sighed heavily. ‘I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘I’ve been mulling it over in my mind all day and I reckon I’ve come up with a solution, but –’
