by Susan Lewis
Kate hugged Ashley. They could give one another the understanding and support that only women who were made to suffer by a man could give.
“I can’t write either,” Kate said, as she pulled away. She tried to laugh. “I haven’t been able to write for weeks. Oh, I can write for the magazine, I can do that standing on my head. But my book, it’s over. I know I’m not going to be able to do it.”
“You will,” Ashley assured her. “Not now maybe, but you will.”
Kate got up and started to pace the room. “Ash, I’m sorry for all those things I said to you just now. I’m jealous, you see. I’m so jealous of you that I hate you sometimes. I want to be like you. I want to be able to throw myself into my work, the way you do. How much new business have you won these past two months for Julian Arbrey-Nelmes?” She spat out his name, then held up her hand. “No, don’t tell me, I don’t think I could bear it. It’s in the millions anyway, isn’t it?”
Ashley didn’t answer. Kate was right. She was right too about the promotion. Julian had only hinted at it, but she knew it would be coming her way soon. If her instincts were right, it would happen at Easter. His apology for marrying someone else.
There was a knock at the door.
“And that’ll be Ellamarie. She’s been with Bob today, all day, talking over the Queen of Cornwall. She’s got her first feature film, and she’s got Bob. And Jenneen – she should be here too to rub my nose in her success. If she wasn’t filming somewhere in the Highlands, no doubt she would be.”
Ashley got to her feet. “Right, you can cut the self-pity now, Kate. I’ll answer the door.”
Ellamarie came bursting in with the news that Nicholas Gough was to play Tristram, and wasn’t it just marvellous that the three of them, her, Nick and Bob, would be working together again? “The world is just perfect,” she sighed, helping herself to wine.
Kate burst into tears and ran out of the room.
Ellamarie was astonished. “What did I say?”
Ashley told her.
Ellamarie groaned. “Oh shit! I should have known. I got carried away with myself and didn’t stop to think. But hell, Ash, what does she see in him? He’s an out and out bastard.”
“Try convincing her of that.” Ashley looked at her watch. “Look, I’ve got to run. We’re doing a night shoot tonight and I’m supposed to be there at eight, and I told Keith I’d meet him for a drink before I left. Can you stay with Kate for a bit?”
“Sure,” said Ellamarie. “How are things with you and Keith?”
Ashley shrugged. “I’ll let myself out. Good luck.”
Ellamarie gave a grim smile and went to find Kate in the bedroom. She was lying on the bed, so Ellamarie walked over and pulled the curtains.
“How are you feeling now?”
Kate looked up. “Furious! Absolutely bloody furious.”
“Can’t say I blame you. He’s a bastard.”
“Oh, not with him,” said Kate. “With myself. For putting myself in the position where he can treat me like this.”
“Well, how were you to know?”
“I just should have.” She shuddered. “God, I can hardly bear to think about the way I’m behaving.”
“Then don’t.” Ellamarie walked over and sat on the bed. “He’s not worth it, you know.”
“I know that. But sometimes I worry, Ellamarie. Sometimes I worry that I will never meet anyone. I’m thirty now. The years are just whizzing past, and what have I got to show for them?”
“I would have said quite a lot, but then it depends on what you want to show for them.”
Kate shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. I want my career, I suppose, very badly in fact – but is it enough? How did you feel when you were thirty?”
Ellamarie thought for a moment. “The same. There is a kind of stigma, fear maybe, attached to being thirty. And a feeling inside that something has changed, and maybe a small part of you has died. No, that’s too morbid. Maybe it’s that the childish part of you finally grows up. And it’s the end of a decade, arguably the most important decade of your life. I sure was unhappy about it at the time. But I think, no, I know, that I’m much happier now. I suppose I’ve had some time to get used to it, though. Maybe you should look at it as one of life’s full stops. Now you have the chance to begin a new paragraph.”
“Or the end of a paragraph and the beginning of a new chapter.”
“Either way, you should look forward, and think of what you are going to put into your new chapter. After all, you’re the one who’s writing the novel.”
“Yes,” said Kate, perhaps a little too quickly. “Yes, I’ve always got the book. But that’s not really what I’m getting at. You see, what I need, really, is, well, I need somebody.”
Ellamarie reached out and took her hand. “Sure you do,” she said. “You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t. You’re not the first one to have doubts, you know. I was past thirty before I met Bob.”
“But that’s half the trouble. I don’t want to be past thirty. Past thirty is too late.”
“Too late for what?”
“Well, not too late perhaps. Just late.” Kate looked into Ellamarie’s face. “Do you ever think about children, Ellamarie?”
“Having them, you mean? Children of my own?”
“Yes.”
Ellamarie looked thoughtful. “I guess I do. Sometimes. But I’ve a long way to go before anything like that can happen.”
“But don’t you want any now?”
“It’s not that I don’t want any now, it’s that I can’t have any now.”
“But why?”
“Oh, Kate. Bob is still married. And I’ve got my career. There are so many things I want to do first. Don’t you?”
“Yes. But I want something else. Something tangible in my life. Creating a character in a book is the strangest thing. It’s like giving life to your fantasy man. Your ideal man. Sometimes I long to meet him, and it’s sad to think that I’m yearning after someone who only exists in my mind, or on the pages of a book.”
“That’s only because you haven’t met anyone. The two will take completely separate identities once you do.”
“That’s just it,” Kate said. “Meeting Joel was like meeting that character. He was just how I described Alan Young. And now I feel as though my own book is rejecting me. I know it sounds stupid, insane even, but it’s how I feel.”
“No, I don’t think it sounds insane,” said Ellamarie. “Odd maybe, to anyone else. But I have had a similar experience with characters I have played. Not quite the same, I know. But I understand how something that doesn’t really exist can take over your life.”
“Romantic nonsense. That’s all it is. And how’s this for nonsense? I just long to have a baby, Ellamarie. A little girl of my own. Sometimes I want it so badly I can’t think about anything else. I know you’ll think I’m mad, but I’ve even considered stopping taking the pill, but then common sense prevails. And I suppose it prevails because I also want someone to love, and to love me too. And the thing that makes me the saddest is that now it is already too late to be what I always wanted to be. A young mother. And the man I marry, if I ever do get married, will never know me in my twenties, and by the time my little girl is ten, it’s very likely that I will be forty, forty-five even. Somehow life is passing me by.”
Ellamarie laughed. “Well, if you put it like that, it’s charging by.”
“Sorry,” Kate said, “I’m being morose. But that’s how it feels to be Katherine Calloway and thirty.”
Ellamarie smiled. Darkness had overtaken the room completely and she reached out to switch on the lamp. As she did, the telephone rang, and Kate jumped, violently.
“I’ll answer it,” Ellamarie said. She lifted the receiver.
“Hello.”
She looked at Kate, then looked away again. “No, I’m sorry,” she said, “she’s just gone down to the car. We’re already late. Can I get her to call you? Sorry, could you repeat that? Yes, thank you,
I’ll tell her. Goodbye.”
“It was him, wasn’t it?”
Ellamarie nodded, and saw a look of anguish cross her friend’s face. She knew what Kate was feeling only too well.
“I know it’s difficult, honey, but I promise you, it’s for the best. He’s no good, and in your heart you know it.”
Kate turned away and buried her face in the pillow. Ellamarie sat with her, holding her hand until finally Kate sat up again. “Please,” she said, in a small, quiet voice, “don’t ever mention any of this to my father. Not about the way I’ve been behaving. Not about wanting a baby. None of it. He would be so upset. He really wants me to write this book. Since my brother was killed he has set all the ambition he ever had for both of us on my shoulders, and I just couldn’t bear to let him down. I’m not going to let him down.”
“Of course I won’t say anything to him,” said Ellamarie. “But remember, Kate, it’s your life. You must do what you want to do. You can’t be a substitute for your brother, you know, and no more should you.”
“I know,” said Kate, and she laughed suddenly. Ellamarie watched her face, and what she saw there made her uneasy.
THIRTEEN
Cradling the phone with her shoulder, Ellamarie stood at the buffet pouring herself a drink “. . . hell, I go back home for ten days, and when I get back everyone’s disappeared. Where have y’all been? I’ve been trying to call you for days.”
“Oh really, Ellamarie, you’ll just have to try and keep up,” Ashley teased her. “I’ve been at the bottom of a gravel pit with the crabbiest director I’ve ever worked with. Jenneen, when I last heard from her, was in Rome, and Kate is in Monte Carlo with – wait for it – Joel.”
“Joel!”
“Yes, Joel.”
“I don’t know what to say,” said Ellamarie, which made Ashley laugh. It wasn’t often Ellamarie was lost for words.
Jenneen, Ashley went on to tell her, was filming the playgrounds of the rich and famous, and Kate had been suddenly swept off to the south of France by Joel Martin.
“But when I left she was seeing Nicholas Gough. At least she’d been out to dinner with him once or twice,” said Ellamarie.
But ever since Joel had spoken to Ellamarie on the telephone he had been pestering Kate night and day. Eventually Kate had given in and seen him – lunch only, she had insisted. And over that lunch Joel had been so charming, and attentive, that she had fallen right back into bed with him.
“So you see, your strategy worked,” said Ashley.
“It wasn’t meant to work – not like that. Joel Martin is a creep as well as a bastard.”
“How is Bob?” said Ashley.
“Fantastic! He’s right here preparing to go off and be interviewed by someone from The Times.”
“Well, I am impr . . .” Ashley looked up as the door of her office opened. It was Julian. She flushed, and her voice faltered as she told Ellamarie that she would have to ring off.
“No need,” said Julian, “I only popped in to make sure that you were going to be at the awards ceremony tomorrow night.”
Ashley put her hand over the receiver. “Of course,” she said. “Shouldn’t the winners always attend?”
“I like your confidence,” he chuckled, and closed the door behind him.
“Was that who I think it was?”
“None other,” Ashley answered. “What on earth is going on over there?” she asked as she heard Ellamarie shriek.
“Let’s just say that I think Mr McElfrey missed me while I was away.” Bob moved his mouth further up and bit her on the shoulder. “I think I’d better go before this turns into a dirty phone call.”
“Some people have all the luck,” Ashley laughed, and they hung up.
Monte Carlo meant several things to Kate; one of them was dancing at Jimmy’z, another was trying, and failing, to make her fortune in the Salles Privées. It was the last night of their stay, and Joel and the author they had come to see, Royston Robberts, had dined alone on Royston Robberts’ yacht, while Kate, together with Maggie Robberts, had dined at the Hotel de Paris. Later they met up with the men at Jimmy’z, then went on to try their luck, one last time, at the gaming tables.
It was not quite the season yet for Monte Carlo, though with the Easter holiday not far away it was beginning to get busy. The casino was crowded, and as Kate walked in on Joel’s arm her face suddenly lit up. Walking across the room, talking animatedly to a corpulent yet obviously affluent Arab, was Jenneen. Kate called out, but Jenneen didn’t look up.
“Jenneen!” Kate called again, trying to push her way towards her. Suddenly Kate stopped. It wasn’t Jenneen who turned round to look at her at all. “I’m sorry,” Kate mumbled, and moved away again.
The look the woman had given her had unsettled her, though Kate couldn’t think why. Once or twice during the remainder of the evening Kate strained her neck to see if the woman was still in the bar, but there was no sign of her.
Joel had laughed at her, and told her to stop being nosy. There were plenty more interesting things to do in Monte than search a casino for somebody she didn’t even know, he teased her, and from the gleam in his eye Kate knew what at least one of those things was. In his quest for sexual gratification he had taken to making love to her in public places, and in order to please him Kate had not worn underwear since they’d arrived. Now he pulled her onto his lap and pushed his hand beneath the ruffles of her dress. Kate gasped as she felt his fingers enter her and looked around to see if anyone was watching them. They were in the darkest corner of the casino and Royston Robberts had taken his wife off to the chemin de fer table. After several minutes of caressing her almost to the point of orgasm Joel pushed her from his lap and told her to stand in front of him, holding her skirt up while he unzipped his fly. His penis leapt from his trousers, and turning her round he pulled her back onto his lap and pushed it deep inside her. A few minutes later he summoned a passing waiter and ordered champagne. As the waiter walked away again Kate flinched as Joel gripped her by the shoulders and buried his face in her neck in an effort to drown his voice as the semen burst from his body.
The following morning they took Royston Robberts’ helicopter to Nice airport, and from there they flew back to London. Kate had had an absolutely marvellous time and was more in love with Joel than ever, she told Ellamarie when she got back. Ellamarie made no comment.
Matthew was waiting at the door as Jenneen dragged her suitcase up over the stairs. He rushed down to help her, dropping a light kiss on her cheek and giving her a big smile. He seemed pleased that she was back, and Jenneen couldn’t help but be touched by it.
The filming had gone on longer than anyone had anticipated, and she had been away for almost three weeks. She didn’t tell Matthew that when she had returned to Heathrow, two days earlier, she had caught the train to Yorkshire to spend some time with her parents.
“So how was it?” he said as he put her suitcase inside the door and turned back to put an arm round her.
“Much like I told you on the phone,” she said.
He laughed a little uneasily. “Come on. I’ll make some coffee, and we can talk.”
She sighed, and took off her coat. More than anything else, she would have liked to come back to an empty flat. Now wasn’t that ironic? All those times when she had come back to no one, when she had felt sorry for herself and there had been no milk in the fridge, the bread was stale, and the flat was freezing cold. And now here she was, walking into a warm flat, with coffee being made for her and no doubt fresh bread in the cupboard, loving arms to hold her, and all she wanted was to be alone. What in the world did it take to satisfy Jenneen Grey?
“What are you doing?” Matthew called from the kitchen.
Jenneen collected her thoughts. “Coming.”
She wandered into the lounge, and she smiled to see everything so spick and span. She smelt the polish as soon as she walked in, and the carpets were still lined from the back and forth of the Hoover. The windows
gleamed, and everything looked so fresh. There was even a vase of flowers on the table. Dear Matthew, he really was trying hard.
She sat down, and put her feet up on the coffee table. Come what may, it was good to be home.
Matthew came in with the coffee, and set it down in front of her.
“Where did the flowers come from?”
“A flower shop.”
She smiled. “They’re beautiful, thank you.”
“I wanted everything to be nice for you when you got back,” he said. “I’ve really missed you, you know.”
She picked up her coffee, and began to drink it. “Did you manage to get everything I asked you to get?”
“It’s all in the kitchen. Ellamarie rang earlier. She and Bob will be arriving at the same time as everyone else. She doesn’t have a performance tonight.”
“Oh, that’s good,” said Jenneen. “What about the others? Are they all coming?”
“As far as I know. No one’s rung to say otherwise.”
Jenneen yawned. “I could do with some sleep before everyone arrives. What time is it?”
“Half past four.”
“I think I could manage an hour.”
“Good idea. I can be getting on with things for you, if you tell me what has to be done.”
“You don’t know how to cook, Matthew,” she laughed.
“I can always learn. Anyway, I wasn’t offering to cook, exactly. More like cleaning vegetables, or cracking eggs.”
“Don’t worry. We can do it together, when I get up.”
“I’ll go to the off-licence and get the wine then,” he said.
She picked up a magazine from the pile sitting beside her, and started to flick through. “What’s this?”
“I got them this morning, from the travel agents.”
“What for?”
“What do you mean, what for? For a holiday.”
“Where are you thinking of going?”
“Well, as the brochure might suggest, ski-ing.”
She nodded, and continued to flick through. She wasn’t really looking at the pages, she was too tired to think much.
