by Susan Lewis
‘Louisa, can I come up now?’ Sarah wailed.
Jake’s laughter was expelled into Louisa’s throat as she too burst out laughing. They looked at each other for a brief moment then, letting go of Sarah’s hair, Louisa took hold of her and guided her back to the car.
‘I’m sorry,’ Sarah said as Jake walked round to the driver’s side. ‘I know you want to kill me, but I was getting cramp down there.’
‘It’s all right,’ Louisa laughed, aware that she was still slightly dizzy from the effects of the kiss. ‘Now, you’re sure you’re not going to throw up again?’
‘I don’t think so.’
Within ten minutes they were home and Sarah had taken herself discreetly, as well as necessarily, straight off to bed.
‘Are you sure this is all you want?’ Louisa said to Jake, carrying a beer onto the terrace for him.
He turned and sat on the balustrade, watching her put the beer on the table. ‘That’ll do just fine,’ he answered, inhaling deeply on his cigarette. ‘What about you? Aren’t you having anything?’
‘Just coffee,’ she said, praying that he couldn’t see how nervous she was.
The air was perfectly still, with just the metallic chirping of night insects chafing the silence. The garden offered its own delicate perfume, the soft lights of the terrace captured them in a muted glow of sensual awareness. She watched him reach for his beer, following the movements of his hands, so strong and so masculine she could almost feel herself melting at the thought of what they could do to her. His long, powerfully muscled legs were stretched out in front of him and through a rip in his jeans she could see the dark hair on his thigh. Desire was pulsing so hard through her body it held her rooted to her chair. She raised her eyes back to his face to find him watching her.
‘You’ve got exceptionally beautiful eyes, do you know that?’ he said.
A voice somewhere deep inside her was crying out for her not to listen, not to be taken in by such easy charm and flattery, but of course it was too late. Just that one kiss had been enough to tell her that she was his for the taking.
‘Thank you,’ she said, then felt a bubble of laughter rise in her throat.
The next moment, to her amazement, she heard herself say, ‘I hope your girlfriend won’t mind you bringing us home.’
Jake’s eyebrows lifted and raising his cigarette he took another long draw.
‘She’s very beautiful,’ Louisa said, wishing she could stop herself. ‘What’s her name?’
‘Marianne,’ he answered and Louisa’s heart seemed to split in two.
‘Oh,’ she smiled. Then when he said nothing, ‘I saw you with her in Mougins yesterday.’
He nodded, then flicking his cigarette into the garden he tilted his head back to drink his beer. ‘Time I was going,’ he said, putting the half-empty bottle back on the table.
Louisa had already drawn breath to protest before she mercifully managed to stop herself. She walked with him round to the front of the house, thanking him again for bringing them home and hoping he couldn’t hear the misery and shameful anger in her voice. When they reached the car he stopped, turned to face her and crooking his fingers under her chin, he said, ‘Look, we both know something special is happening here, but don’t let’s rush it, huh?’
Louisa gazed up at him with wide, uncertain eyes.
He smiled. ‘Marianne’s not my girlfriend,’ he said. ‘No one is, and you, Louisa, have just got to be patient. Can you do that?’
‘I don’t think so,’ she answered, making him laugh.
‘Yeah, well, there are a lot of things going on right now,’ he said, ‘things I can’t explain, leastways not yet. But I will, when the time is right.’
‘Can’t you at least tell me something?’
He shook his head. ‘No. It’s not good for you to know. And I want you to keep what we have between us to yourself. Will you do that?’
‘And what exactly is it that we have between us?’ she pressed.
‘You know as well as I do,’ he murmured, ‘so stop trying to make me say things I’m not in any position to say right now. Just keep it to yourself, OK?’
She nodded.
‘And don’t listen to all you might hear about me, ’cos only half of it’s true. You’ll find out which half when, if, I’m ever able to make the commitment you want.’
‘Am I so easy to read?’ she smiled.
‘It’s not a case of reading,’ he answered, ‘it’s a case of feeling and I feel you mighty powerfully, Louisa Kramer.’ He grimaced. ‘Too powerfully,’ he added with a smile.
‘Then why do you have to go?’ she whispered.
‘I just do. We’re not either of us ready for this yet,’ he said, brushing his fingers over the cool softness of her cheek.
‘I feel ready,’ she said.
‘Don’t make this any harder than it already is,’ he said, looking ruefully into her eyes.
‘Then just tell me when the time will be right,’ she persisted, wanting so desperately for him to hold her, to feel his strength beneath her hands, against her body.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Soon, maybe. But …’ He stopped and looked past her into the black of the night.
‘But what?’ she said.
‘But no promises,’ he said, lowering his eyes back to hers.
Louisa felt a coldness stealing over the unsteady joy in her heart and as if sensing it he said, ‘Don’t expect too much, Louisa, ’cos it may be that in the end I can’t give it.’
‘I wish I understood what was going on,’ she said.
‘I wish I understood it too,’ he answered, seeming suddenly very far away.
‘Will you kiss me again?’ she whispered.
He shook his head. ‘If I do that I’ll never be able to leave here tonight.’ He laughed at the mischievous look that shot into her eyes. ‘I can’t stay,’ he told her. ‘Believe me, I want to, but I can’t.’
‘Will I see you again?’
The corner of his mouth curved in a wry smile. ‘My guess is we’ll see each other again,’ he said, his voice laden with irony. ‘Just don’t ask when, don’t listen to all you hear, trust me and keep what we have for us.’
He touched his lips so lightly to hers that were it not for the sudden flame it ignited in her he might not have touched her at all.
‘OK?’ he whispered.
‘OK,’ she nodded.
As she watched his car disappear at the end of the drive she was wondering why it had only occurred to her now to ask him about Danny, when it was too late. But what difference did it make? She knew now that he felt the same way she did and though he hadn’t told her anything about himself or what he was really involved in she was going to do as he asked and trust him.
9
THE TURN OF the century Grand Hotel on the very tip of the millionaires’ promontory Cap Ferrat, was one of the most exclusive and expensive on the entire coast. The rich, the famous and even the infamous could stay there in complete seclusion and anonymity if that was their wish, which was why, as a woman who valued her privacy above all else, Consuela had arranged to meet Rosalind on the hotel’s sweeping half-moon terrace, shaded by umbrella pines and sufficiently distant from the other guests not to be overheard.
At that moment Rosalind was staring in horror at Consuela, wondering if she were looking at a friend or an enemy. Neither of them spoke for a moment as two uniformed waiters positioned themselves at their elbows, paused, then with a subtle flourish, lifted the silver lids from their plates to reveal the homard aux girolles.
‘I’m sorry, Rosalind,’ Consuela murmured as the waiters departed. ‘Truly, I’m sorry.’
‘But if he’s with Peter now,’ Rosalind said, ‘why didn’t you call me before I left? Maybe I could have stopped him.’
‘I called,’ Consuela said, ‘but you were already on your way.’
‘Oh my God!’ Rosalind muttered, her face as pale as the alabaster sculptures in the gardens. ‘This is go
ing to kill Peter,’ she said, gazing sightlessly at the other tables where fine wines accompanied the exquisite food and easy laughter rippled from the lips of the chic guests. ‘It’ll kill everything. Don’t you understand that? Peter trusts me. More than that, he truly believes that the sex life we have is enough. And it is! It’s just that sometimes the pressure of living with someone who’s dying is too much. I have to find a release, to forget it, if only for a few hours.’
‘I understand,’ Consuela said, covering her hand. ‘Believe me, I know what you’re going through.’
‘So why are you allowing Jake to do this?’ Rosalind implored.
‘It’s not a question of allowing, you know that,’ Consuela answered.
‘But you must have known what he was doing.’
‘Not until it was already done,’ Consuela said, swallowing hard on her food.
Rosalind looked at her dully. ‘How much money is he going to ask for?’ she said.
Consuela shook her head. ‘I don’t know. It’ll be a lot.’
‘But didn’t you tell him Peter was dying?’ Rosalind pleaded. ‘Doesn’t he have any pity for a man whose only wish now is for a peaceful end to his life?’
‘Of course I told him,’ Consuela assured her. ‘I did everything I could to stop him. I even offered him the money myself.’
‘But he wouldn’t take it,’ Rosalind stated helplessly. ‘I’d have paid him,’ she said. ‘I have money. Not as much as Peter, it’s true, but … Oh no, Consuela,’ she cried as Consuela lifted her napkin to her mouth to stifle a sob.
‘Rosalind, I’m sorry,’ she choked. ‘Would that it had been anyone but you. But no, I wouldn’t wish this on anyone and to think that this is the price people have to pay for being my friend. It’s my fault, I’m as much to blame as he is, but tell me, what can I do? They wouldn’t send him for trial. His family are more powerful than …’
‘Sssh, ssh,’ Rosalind soothed, aware that they were attracting several interested glances. ‘It’s not your fault. Please, Consuela. You mustn’t blame yourself. I know what he’s put you through …’
‘He doesn’t want me to have any friends,’ Consuela said, her voice so choked with tears it was barely audible. ‘The rumours he’s spread about me … I know what he says, but that I can live with. It’s what he does to the people I care for that I can’t live with.’
Rosalind turned and stared at the glittering Mediterranean where expert skiers skimmed smoothly across the waves, wind-surfers glided with the breeze and a hundred different yachts rocked and swayed in the current. ‘So he’s done this before,’ she said, hearing the words echo in her head.
Consuela nodded. ‘I wish I could tell you otherwise, but he’s had those videos put together in the past and …’ Her voice was too strangled for a moment to continue, ‘and … he’s rich, Rosalind, richer than you or I put together. He doesn’t need the money. He does it for kicks. Diana and William Fitzbligh? You remember them. They’re divorced now, we never see her any more. It was Jake who split them up, who destroyed her life. He put a camera in the bathhouse and had everything she did edited together with a real pornographic film. He sent copies to William’s colleagues, to his clients, even to his children. Diana didn’t do half the things she looks like she’s doing, they’re most of them editing tricks, but it looks so real and the damage … Rosalind, he’s going to make as big a fool out of Peter as he can and Peter will …’ she stopped, unable to go on.
‘Will die thinking that that was how much I valued him and what we are to each other,’ Rosalind finished, still staring blindly out to sea. ‘Oh God, Consuela! What am I going to do? How am I going to face him?’
‘You can only tell him the truth,’ Consuela answered. ‘You must tell him why you come to the bathhouse then explain the editing tricks Jake uses to make it look like it’s you doing those disgusting things.’
‘How disgusting are they?’ Rosalind said, her eyes dilating with fear.
‘They’re horrible. Depraved.’
Rosalind took a gulp of wine. It was still her first glass, but already she was lightheaded with the fear of what this was going to do to the husband she loved so deeply. A man as gentle and kind as Peter should never have to be submitted to the kind of humiliation and heartbreak Jake Mallory was going to bring into his life. He had so little time left in this world, so why couldn’t Jake just let him die with dignity and love in his heart, instead of the shame of seeing his wife behave like a whore or worse. She thought of how long it had taken to win over her stepchildren; what were they going to think now? Would Jake really show them?
She looked at Consuela. ‘We have to go to the police,’ she said.
The clatter of cutlery, strains of soft music and drifting hum of conversation filled the silence. At last Consuela shook her head, ‘It wouldn’t do any good,’ she said. ‘Remember, he has already been arrested once and on a much more serious charge than extortion. They let him go then and they’ll do it again. His father’s influence doesn’t stop at the shores of the United States any more than the power of the United States stops there.’
Rosalind put a shaking hand to her mouth. ‘Dear God, where does all this end?’ she sobbed.
‘I wish I had an answer for you,’ Consuela said, gazing down at her empty plate. ‘But you must think of yourself now. Make Peter’s last days as happy as you can, the way I know you want to. Tell him to call me if you think it will help. I’ll stand by you, I’ll do all I can to ease this for you – for you both … And he won’t change his will, I know he won’t. He loves you too much to do that. Yes, I know right now that’s not your consideration. You don’t need the money, but neither do you need it being said that it was your indiscretions on a video that made him change his will. It happened to me, remember? My husband changed his will and now the disgrace is such that I cannot return to my homeland. Yes, he gave me the house, he gave me enough to run it, but everything else he took from me, including my beloved Argentina.’
Rosalind looked at Consuela’s beautiful, grief-stricken face and realized that she could hardly begin to know the depths of her suffering. Rosalind knew so much more than most, but even she didn’t know the full story of what had happened at the time of Carmelo Santini’s death. Consuela couldn’t bring herself to speak of it the pain was so great. And the question that had trembled accusingly on Rosalind’s lips earlier was already answered. Consuela had the bathhouse because Jake made her.
‘What are you going to do about those girls?’ Rosalind asked, looking at her watch. ‘They’ll be here soon, have you thought about what you’re going to say?’
Consuela shook her head then shivered as though a storm-cloud had suddenly passed over the blazing sun. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she said. ‘I keep telling myself they’re young, they don’t have so much to lose, they can survive it, but one of them, Danny, is already involved with him. I don’t know how seriously, but you know how the young are, if you forbid it they will want it all the more. You know Danny’s mother, Suzannah Spencer?’
‘Yes, yes, I know her.’
‘It would break her heart if anything happened to that girl.’
‘I know,’ Rosalind mumbled. It wasn’t that she was feeling unsympathetic, it was simply that she was facing a crisis herself right now and just couldn’t take on board any one else’s.
Consuela smiled weakly. ‘But let’s not dwell on what might happen,’ she said, ‘when the unthinkable is already happening to you.’
Rosalind’s heart gave a sickening lurch as she thought of what her beloved husband must be going through even as they spoke. ‘Consuela,’ she said softly, ‘would you mind terribly …’
‘No, of course I don’t mind,’ Consuela said, reading what Rosalind was about to say. ‘He’ll need you now. Call me when you can.’
Rosalind started to get up then stopped as she realized she was leaving Consuela in such distress. Her loyalties were badly torn, but Peter was dying. ‘I’ll always be there for you,
Consuela,’ she said. ‘You know that, don’t you?’
‘I don’t deserve it,’ Consuela smiled sadly, ‘but yes, I know.’
Within minutes the atmosphere around the table had changed so dramatically that Consuela could barely catch her breath. Louisa was so overwhelmed by the hotel’s splendour that Consuela found herself laughing along with her at such guileless enthusiasm. In fact both Louisa and Danny appeared in such high spirits that it was impossible not to be drawn in. And in their own individual ways they looked so lovely that heads were constantly turning in their direction. It was undoubtedly Danny who was attracting the most attention, for she was the more beautiful of the two and she looked so radiant today that Consuela decided that to broach the subject of Jake as she’d intended would be a mistake.
‘Hey!’ Danny said suddenly as she handed the menu back to the waiter. ‘We just saw Rosalind Carmichael driving off. She looked terrible. In fact she almost drove into us she was going so fast.’
Consuela chuckled. ‘That is Rosalind’s usual way of driving, I’m afraid,’ she said. ‘Always in a hurry. So, where’s Sarah? I thought she was coming along too.’
‘Sarah is in her new darkroom,’ Louisa answered. ‘She’s shot about a hundred reels of film since we’ve been here so we’re not expecting to see her for at least a week.’
Consuela appeared interested. ‘What is she photographing?’ she asked.
‘Anything that moves,’ Danny replied, her eyes moving about the terrace, ‘especially us. Every time we turn round she’s right there with her camera.’
‘Not that you’re complaining,’ Louisa retorted, laughingly.
Danny threw her a look which brought a fond smile to Consuela’s lips.
‘And what have you two been doing with yourselves?’ she wondered.
‘What haven’t we been doing?’ Louisa laughed. And as she recounted their hilarious attempts at water-skiing, para-sailing and even a little scuba-diving plus the parties they’d been to and the whole general chaos that was taking over their lives, Danny interjected with teasing comments and obviously feigned boredom. Though Consuela was smiling she could have wept for the loss of her own youth and such enthusiasm for life. And Louisa, she noticed, was a good deal more beautiful than she’d at first thought. Her hair had lightened in the sun and it was now a soft caramel colour, her skin had darkened and her smile was quite dazzling. She was, Consuela realized, fascinating to watch, for there was an elegance, a grace to her movements that brought out her femininity in a way Consuela had seen in few other women.
