by Susan Lewis
It had never been clear if anyone in the village ate Sunday lunch at home, certainly they were all in the pub by one, and no-one ever left much before three. Reverend Beesely and his wife Mary were usually the last to go. Today, though, it seemed that the celebrities would be the last out, and, laughing as Bob slipped an arm round her shoulders, Allyson wondered what kind of event the cricket match was going to turn into.
‘I’m just off to pick up the kids,’ Bob shouted in her ear. ‘We should be back at the house by three thirty.’
‘How much have you had to drink?’ she shouted back.
‘Half of bitter,’ he answered, giving her a wink, then catching her as she wobbled. ‘How much have you had?’
‘I stopped counting after three. By the way, I was trying to remember if you and Tessa have ever met.’
Bob looked across the bar to where Tessa was now talking to a couple of the soap stars. ‘You know, I don’t think we have,’ he said. ‘Maybe a brief hello at the office. Which one is she? The one over there with Mandy and Frank?’
Allyson knew the devilish spirit of drink was goading her, but she was too far gone to smother it. ‘Come on, I’ll introduce you before you go,’ she said, grabbing his hand. ‘She’s a great assistant, did I ever tell you that?’
‘Yeah, you told me,’ he answered, following on behind.
Looking back over her shoulder she gave him a saucy wink and said, ‘What’s she like in bed? Is she great there too?’
Bob’s insides churned, for the tease had barbs and he knew it. But deciding that the safest bet was to keep it all on the surface, he said, ‘Oh, she’s the best. Just the best.’
Though Allyson’s heart did a sickening dive, she continued to smile, and made herself remember that this was only play, and that a hot denial might well have been far greater cause for worry.
‘Tessa!’ Allyson cried. ‘I want you to meet my husband, Bob.’
Tessa turned round, flushed and sparkling, but her smile was already fading as unease clouded her eyes and made her mouth tremble.
‘This is Bob!’ Allyson declared. ‘Apparently, you’re having an affair with him.’
Bob took Allyson’s arm and tried to pull her aside. ‘The joke’s gone far enough,’ he said in her ear. ‘You’re embarrassing the girl.’
‘No I’m not, am I?’ she demanded of Tessa. ‘How am I embarrassing you?’
Those nearby had stopped to listen. Over in the corner, the kids’ presenter and Mrs Briggs were attempting to dance to Abba, while Ron rang the bell for last orders. ‘So you live in the same building as Bob’s producer,’ Allyson affirmed, slurring slightly. ‘Did you hear that, everyone? Just because Tessa here lives in the same building as Bob’s producer she’s supposed to be having an affair with him. Bob, I mean, not the producer. Now tell me, isn’t that a joke!’
There was some uneasy laughter as again Bob tried to pull her away.
‘No, don’t,’ she said, shrugging him off. ‘I’m just telling everyone that you and Tessa have never really met before today, but you’re still supposed to be having an affair. Crazy, isn’t it?’ she said to Mary Beesely, the vicar’s wife. ‘I mean, how can you have an affair with someone you don’t even know?’ She turned to Tessa. ‘This,’ she declared, putting an arm round her, ‘is my wonderful assistant Tessa. I know I’ve told you all about her, and now here she is, in the flesh. She’s fantastic. She wants to become a reporter and I’m helping her get there, because I think she’ll make a brilliant reporter. But I’ll be sorry to lose her, because she’s the best assistant I’ve ever had. And she’s not, I repeat not, having an affair with my husband. Are you?’
Tessa’s voice was small as she said, ‘No.’
‘You see,’ Allyson shouted. ‘She’s not. And just for the record, Bob and I are still every bit as much in love as we’ve ever been … Correction, we’re even more in love than ever, and if things work out, we’re going to be starting a family. Aren’t we, Bob?’
Laughing, Bob pulled her into his arms and held her tight. ‘That’s enough now,’ he whispered. ‘You’ve made your point. I’m going to get the kids.’
‘But you didn’t even say hello to Tessa!’ Allyson objected.
‘Hello Tessa,’ he said.
‘Hello,’ she responded. The colour in her cheeks was flooding right down to her neck, making her look so innocent and tender and afraid that it wrenched the anger from Bob’s heart and replaced it with a searing desire to protect her.
‘Tell you what, Tessa,’ Allyson cried. ‘Why don’t you go with Bob to get the kids? Then you can actually get to know one another.’
Tessa was looking more miserable by the minute. Bob’s anger was back. ‘Ally, let’s leave it now,’ he said shortly. ‘I’ll see you in half an hour, back at the house.’
As he walked away he took Wanda to one side. ‘Give her some coffee,’ he said. ‘She’s never been able to handle martinis.’
‘Leave her to me,’ Wanda said. ‘I’ll have her sober in no time. What about the lass? She looks a bit lost, standing there like that.’
Bob turned round. Allyson had now moved into the centre of another crowd, leaving Tessa standing alone. Her head was bowed and Bob ached to take her in his arms and soothe away the pain. ‘Poor kid,’ he murmured. ‘What do you think I should do?’
‘Oh, go on with you,’ Wanda said. ‘I’ll get her chatting to someone else, don’t you worry.’
Bob started to leave, and Wanda turned away to clear glasses from a table. It took her by surprise when Bob suddenly came back. ‘You know what, I’m going to take her with me,’ he said.
Wanda blinked. ‘I thought you was going to leave her to me,’ she said, taking a moment to adjust.
He didn’t answer and Wanda watched in confusion as he brushed past her to get to Tessa. The young girl’s eyes looked big and grateful as he spoke to her, and it was only after they’d gone out of the door that Wanda thought it strange that neither of them had looked at Allyson. You’d have thought one of them would, she later remarked to Mrs Briggs.
From where she was now sitting, in one of the bay windows, Allyson stopped listening to those around her and watched Bob lead Tessa to the bus. Her heart was pounding and her face was turning numb as every instinct in her screamed to make itself heard. It was true! He was sleeping with the girl. Oh my God! Oh my God! It was true. But no! No, no, it couldn’t be. Push it aside, smother the paranoia and remember who had started the rumour. They always got it wrong, always, and maybe her mother was right, Bob should sue.
She was staring hard at the bus, watching it pull away. Her mind’s eye showed her visions of them kissing, their hands entwining … It was hard to breathe, dread was billowing up inside her like a great suffocating balloon. She had to be wrong, it had to be drink that was frightening her like this, making her get everything out of perspective and think that their lives were going to be wrecked. She needed some coffee, she had to sober up and remind herself calmly that Bob and Tessa both loved her far too much to do this to her, and there was just no way this was going to wreck their lives, because there was no ‘this’ and because she believed wholeheartedly in the strength of their marriage, which could overcome even ‘this’ if there really was a ‘this’, which there absolutely was not.
The spacious sitting room of Shelley Bronson’s Kensington flat was littered with the Sunday papers. The remains of a late breakfast were still in evidence, and a stack of hand-labelled video cassettes had broken down into an untidy pile in front of the TV. Otherwise the room was pure elegance and style, with its sensuously lit Icart nudes, stylish Thirties furniture and rugs, and splendid original art deco fireplace. It was all so beautifully reminiscent of old Hollywood that both her home and her magnificent collection of ceramics and glassware had recently been featured in Interiors magazine. But not even the tasteful and unusual elegance of her surroundings could compare with Shelley herself, whose hauntingly dark beauty, languorous movements and thoughtful, almond-shape
d eyes created a woman who was so exotic and sensuous that she aroused interest and caused intrigue merely by existing. But she was a very private woman, with few friends and a marked distaste for publicity, which in itself gave rise to all manner of speculation, for her dark, velvety eyes radiated the kind of promise that could incite male fantasies beyond normal limits, and often left other women feeling benign and gauche in her presence. Shelley liked it that way, for there was no reason for anyone to know about the dark, disturbing rivers that ran through her psyche, because everyone had them. The trauma of her father’s death when she was only twelve, and the catastrophic relationship with her mother that had followed were the major causes of whatever doubts and insecurities she might have now, but they were nobody else’s business, and certainly not for public appraisal.
For Shelley, her outward appearance and the image she created was all that mattered. She was forty-two, almost six feet tall and had the most perfectly formed body it was possible for a woman to have. She was also incisively intelligent, with great poise and confidence, and had very little time for fools, of whom there seemed to be lamentably plenty amongst the males of her acquaintance. She had yet to meet a man who could match her, in the bedroom or the boardroom, though she wasn’t the kind of woman who went for long without sex, she simply indulged herself with the husbands of others, who would naturally want no scandal or commitment. There was only one exception to the non-commitment deal, though not one that she ever discussed, even with Allyson, her closest friend.
Shelley was thinking about Allyson now, as she took part in a conference call with Soirée’s other two producers, Alan Rich and Hayley Brocket, who would surely have seen that morning’s exclusive in the News of the World. It was probably only a matter of time now before one of them brought the subject up, possibly in the hope of getting the low-down from Shelley, though they had to know how unlikely that was. As they talked Shelley wandered aimlessly about her apartment, the lush satin of her robe slipping down over one shoulder to reveal an exquisitely pert breast, and the flawless olive-dark skin. When finally she sat the robe fell apart exposing the silken firmness of her thighs, and as she unclasped her glorious chestnut hair, letting it tumble loosely around her shoulders, Hayley finally got round to the subject of Allyson.
‘So how do we handle the “Secret Love” at the meeting tomorrow?’ she asked. Then quite bluntly tacked on, ‘Is it true, by the way?’
‘What do you think?’ Shelley responded, enjoying the sensation of her fingers as they moved through her hair.
There was a moment’s silence at the other end before Alan said, ‘Have you spoken to Allyson today? How did she take it?’
‘Probably the way you’re imagining,’ Shelley responded. She got to her feet and went into the bedroom to stand in front of the mirror. Untying the robe she let it pool at her feet.
‘Isn’t Tessa going down there today?’ Hayley asked.
‘Mmmm.’ Shelley was checking her flawless skin for the first signs of a blemish.
‘I doubt she’ll go now,’ Alan said.
‘She’s already there,’ Shelley informed them.
‘My, she’s got guts,’ Hayley remarked.
‘Why? If she’s innocent?’ Shelley said.
That stopped the conversation. Obviously both Hayley and Alan had presumed the story was true.
‘OK, the line-up from Monday to Wednesday is looking good,’ Shelley said. ‘Let’s see what comes out of the meeting tomorrow. Are there any Hollywood stars in town, we could probably do with some light relief on Wednesday – that show’s looking a bit heavy right now.’
‘Allyson wanted it that way,’ Hayley reminded her.
‘OK. We’ll talk tomorrow and I’ll fill you all in on what Stella Cornbright has to say.’
‘Hey, Shelley, before you go,’ Alan said. ‘I was with Tim Forster last night. He’d really like to meet you.’
Shelley’s immaculate eyebrows rose. ‘Tim Forster the night-club owner?’ she said. As Alan answered she turned back to the mirror and imagined herself standing in front of Forster like this. It would blow the man’s mind.
‘That’s him,’ Alan was saying. ‘He couldn’t stop talking about you. Wants you and Allyson to join him for dinner after the show on Friday. In other words, he’s after some publicity for his club.’
‘I don’t think that’s all he’s after,’ Shelley responded. ‘Tell him I’m a lesbian and Allyson’s an electronic invention,’ and she rang off.
Glancing at the delicate gold Cartier watch on her wrist she toyed with the idea of calling Allyson to find out how things were going, but the Hobert Hall kids were due to arrive any minute, meaning Allyson would probably be too busy to talk. The notion of calling Bob on his mobile appealed for a moment, but then she dismissed it, and going into her bedroom she took out an exquisite set of black satin underwear and laid it on the bed. She loved beautiful things, especially those that caressed her skin and made her feel so desirable. Her creams and lotions were all from the most expensive perfume houses of France and Italy, and her clothes were either silk or cashmere, leather or suede.
After showering, she dressed slowly, savouring the pleasure of satin, then cashmere, then leather as it covered her lovingly scented body. She wasn’t unduly worried about what Stella Cornbright had to say. The show’s ratings were down, it was true, and Allyson’s popularity had been waning these past few months. However, this scandal would turn that around. The nation would take her right to its heart now, the way it always did when a wife was cheated on by her husband, especially publicly. And the fact Tessa was so young and Allyson was fast approaching forty could, perversely, work even more in Allyson’s favour than the cheating itself, for how could a middle-aged woman be expected to compete with a teenage girl?
Shelley sighed, for she knew that this kind of pain was new to Allyson, and she couldn’t help wondering how she would handle it. Of course, Shelley would be there for her, and of course, it could all blow over. However, Shelley doubted that, for she knew very well that this obsession had hit the man like a raging tornado, and there was just no knowing how much havoc and devastation it was going to wreak, or indeed how many lives it would leave destroyed in its wake.
She sighed again as she reflected on what fools men were, and Bob Jaymes surely had to take the prize for being the biggest.
The cricket match was a triumph for the kids. Despite their handicaps they threw themselves wildly into the game, and came out so far ahead that the losers deserved nothing less than the bombardment of cream cakes and soggy fruit they got. Thanks to Elsie Carter and Jack Turner there was plenty of both.
Allyson rarely loved Bob more than at times like this, for he got so involved with the children, and had such a great time himself, that it seemed like he never wanted it to end. She had no idea how many of the children recognized him from the TV, but it didn’t seem to matter, he was their hero. He was the one who visited them each month with Allyson, who took them on day trips to Weston or Longleat, and he was always interested in what they were doing and what they had to say. He was so good and kind and full of crazy fun that their reward was to make him the prime target when it came time to let fly with the ammunition of cakes and fruit. Allyson and Tessa were right in there with them, letting him have it too. Allyson wasn’t sure if she detected some vindictiveness behind Tessa’s pitching, which would have been quite out of character for Tessa, so perhaps it was her own missiles that were sailing through the air with such lethal intent.
The footballers and soap stars sacrificed their dignity too, but it wasn’t long before they started fighting back and there wasn’t a single person on the field who wasn’t covered in goo. A couple of photographers, one from the local paper and another from a tabloid, took plenty of shots and Allyson felt a tightening in her chest as she wondered if Bob and Tessa had been captured together. No doubt she’d find out the next day.
She hadn’t yet passed comment on how he’d taken Tessa to pick up the kid
s, mainly because she was at a total loss how to play it. The thought of them together on that bus was making her feel sick inside, but she had to keep reminding herself that those torturously erotic images were a product of her rabid imagination, not of reality, so she must get a grip. Not that she was really in danger of losing it, she just didn’t know what to say when she brought the subject up, which presumably she should. Or should she? Oh God, why did all the answers get spirited off the minute a crisis turned up?
Except there was no crisis, there was only her husband, who was making his way towards her with cream all over his face, and looking so wicked and humorous that she had to laugh. As he reached her she began mopping him up with a paper towel, then she shrieked as he suddenly scooped her up and spun her round. The spectators, who’d come to watch the game, were delighted, and after taking their bows Allyson turned to Bob with a huge, friendly smile and said, ‘So, did you screw Tessa on the way over to the Hall?’
His face was hidden as he had resumed wiping the cream from his eyes. When it emerged he was grinning. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t going to waste the opportunity, was I?’
Allyson hoped her look of scepticism disguised her misgivings. ‘Out of interest,’ she said, ‘is she going with you when you take them back? Could be another opportunity, though hopefully not in front of the children.’
She was already turning away, but he grabbed her arm and spun her back. Then tilting her chin so that her mouth was very close to his, he said, ‘Stop this. You’re tormenting yourself.’
She swallowed hard on a sudden rush of anger, and guessing they were being watched she put on a showy act of intimacy as she looked up into his eyes. But the caustic response she was planning got suddenly swept away by a wave of unease. ‘Can you stay here tonight?’ she asked. ‘My meeting’s not until twelve tomorrow.’
He was still looking at her, and she could see his anger retreating too, until finally there was only concern in his eyes. ‘I’ll fix it so I can,’ he said, and after giving her a lingering kiss on the mouth he went to start packing the kids into the bus.
