by Sara Craven
But it was the immediate future which was troubling her. The last thing she wanted was to find herself dependent on the bank of Mum and Dad, or living at home even temporarily.
However, it seemed clear she could not afford to go on living in London either, and certainly not continuing to share this flat and its expenses with Susie, and she owed it to her friend to tell her this as soon as possible, so she could find someone else.
She hadn’t simply lost a job she loved, she thought, biting hard into her lip. Her whole life was falling apart.
And all this because she’d told Zandor she wouldn’t sleep with him?
No, not just that, she thought, swallowing past the painful lump in her throat. Because she’d told him over and over again to leave her alone. Insisted that she wanted him out of her life.
Accepted Gerard’s nonsensical proposal in order to drive the point home.
And now Zandor had taken her at her word, and she was cut off—stranded in some bleak, unforgiving desert of her own making.
And how stupid did that make her? she wondered drearily.
Almost as foolish as the girl who’d stood in an orchard, fantasising about children playing there, as if they’d somehow been her own, and the man who’d fathered them was standing beside her, holding her in the circle of his arm...
A sob escaped her, as she realised that from the moment she’d woken up in Zandor’s bed, she’d been fighting her true feelings. Denying that he was the focus of her every dream, every desire.
Instead telling herself forcefully, insistently that all he’d wanted from her was sex, and she’d be crazy to imagine otherwise.
And perhaps she’d been right, yet it made no difference. Because now, when it was too late, she knew with utter certainty that she loved him and had done so from the first.
Admitted at last that one major reason for running away was the hideous memory that, as she was drifting off to sleep in his arms, sated and glowing, she’d broken the first immutable law of the one-night stand.
Actually said the damning words, ‘I love you.’
His lips had touched her hair, but his only reply had been, ‘Tomorrow.’
When, no doubt, he would have been kind, she thought bleakly. Unendurably so. Would have let her down lightly, perhaps suggesting another meeting on his return from America, at the same time making it clear that a night’s pleasure was no grounds for any kind of long-term commitment on his part at least.
And if she’d expected more...
Maybe a shrug. A suggestion that they should simply enjoy the situation for what it was, while it lasted.
And she’d known, lying there beside him, listening to the messages rampaging through her brain, that, as simply and surely as she needed air to breathe, she wouldn’t be able to bear it. That she might break down and cry. Even plead.
And how, after that, could she bear to live with herself?
Well, the answer to that had been, ‘I couldn’t.’ So, she’d left, swiftly and quietly, and, she’d hoped, irrevocably.
Except it was never going to be as easy as that.
She sighed, pushing a hand through her hair. It had been madness to say what she had, and she’d known that for a long time.
Since she’d been at school, in fact, and her literature group had been studying the poetry of William Blake, their opinions divided over the three bleak verses of ‘Never seek to tell thy love.’
‘He was an idiot to say it,’ Susie had declared robustly. ‘He spoke too soon and frightened the girl away, losing her to another man in the process. Sheer, lousy judgement.’
‘No, he was being honest,’ someone had protested. ‘Saying what was in his heart, even if it was a mistake. Amazing.’
‘For a man perhaps,’ Alanna said slowly. ‘But if a woman had done the same thing—what then?’
‘Easy,’ said Susie cynically. ‘The guy would have run and twice as fast.’
And I agreed with her, Alanna thought wretchedly. Decided that I was never going to wear my heart on my sleeve, or say the ‘l’ word until I met the right man, and even then he’d have to say it first—and mean it. Not use it as a ploy to get me into bed.
A perfectly good resolution that I let crash and burn, blurting out the words on a wave of post-rapture euphoria.
I had no guarantees of any kind from Zandor, and why would there be when, as Joanne told me, he has girls everywhere?
Although this Lili seems to be the top of the heap as she might well have been a year ago too.
But maybe she has sufficient nous not to expect too much from a man who can afford anything that life has to offer, she thought, wincing.
But that was never possible for me, because I wanted so much more. From that first moment, I knew I needed to be everything to him.
And now I’m less than nothing, and somehow I have to live with that.
She felt those inner knots of tension begin to unravel and, as the first slow, heavy tears scalded her face and the aching sobs choked in her throat, realised they’d been all that was holding her together.
She didn’t even try to stop crying because she needed the catharsis of tears. Within her, there was a deep well of wretchedness, mixed with remorse and bewilderment, that had to be drained before she could re-start her life.
So, she let the storm of weeping have its way with her, until, finally, there was nothing left.
She sat up slowly, shivering, and drank some wine, feeling it warming her. Signalling she was ready to take control of herself again. Reminding her too that she might soon have to face Susie looking like a drowned rat.
In the bathroom, she relentlessly showered away all traces of grief, and used drops to soothe her swollen eyes before dressing in khaki slouch pants and a black T-shirt.
By the time her flatmate returned some half hour later, she had a pasta sauce bubbling on the stove, sending out welcoming aromas of tomato and garlic.
‘Smells almost good enough to eat.’ Susie dropped her bag and ditched her jacket with a sigh.
‘I thought maybe you’d be dining out.’ Alanna took a packet of penne from the cupboard.
‘So did I—for about five minutes.’ Susie rolled her eyes. ‘Listen and learn, dear friend. When something is dead, give it decent burial. The kiss of life definitely does not apply.’
How right she is, Alanna thought, as pain treacherously slashed at her again. She managed to summon a smile. ‘I’ll try to remember that.’
The meal over, she made a pot of coffee and carried it into the living room.
Susie’s brows lifted as she took an appreciative sip of the dark, rich brew. ‘A great meal and now the good Colombian blend? Pourquoi?’
‘I thought we might need it.’ Alanna took a deep breath. ‘I—resigned from my job today.’
Susie replaced her beaker on the tray very carefully. ‘May I ask why?’
Alanna shrugged. ‘Because the threatened takeover has now become harsh reality, and I found it was either jump or be pushed.’
‘My God,’ Susie said blankly. Then: ‘What did Gerard say?’
Alanna swallowed. ‘I—I haven’t actually told him yet.’
In fact, until this moment, I hadn’t given him a single thought, she added silently and wished she could summon at least a trace of guilt.
‘Worried that he might whisk you to the altar while you’re still reeling?’
Alanna bit her lip. ‘There’s no chance of that. And I’ve told you first because I’m probably going to run into financial difficulties in the near future and you need to look for another flatmate.’
‘While you sleep rough in a doorway, I suppose.’ Susie shook her head reprovingly. ‘No way, babe, and no arguments either. My trip to the States earned me a good bonus and I can afford to pick up the slack while you find your feet again.’
Alanna said shakily, ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Then save your energy for rebooting your CV.’ Susie paused frowning. ‘What I can’t figure
is why this new company let you go. Who is it, anyway?’
‘Some outfit called TiMar International.’ She tried to sound casual.
Susie whistled. ‘Is it indeed? As in strong family company turned media and leisure giant in one generation, and still expanding thanks to young dynamic boss. Or that’s what they were saying in New York. And now they’ve moved into mainstream publishing too.’ She retrieved her coffee and drank thoughtfully. ‘I think I’d have been tempted to hang around for a while. Check out any planned changes.’
‘Unfortunately, I found I was to be involved in a really bad one with no alternative,’ Alanna said quietly. ‘Anyway, perhaps I’m due for a move. A new challenge.’
‘Maybe,’ Susie agreed doubtfully. She paused. ‘But if Gerard offers, promise me you won’t take a job at Bazaar Vert, even on a temporary basis.’
‘I promise—but why?’
‘Because within a week, you’ll be crowning someone with an ethnic vase,’ said Susie. ‘You’ve been warned.’
* * *
‘You didn’t tell me about my cousin.’
Alanna stiffened. Oh, God, she thought. What can he have heard?
She met his faintly accusatory glance across the restaurant table. ‘What do you mean?’
‘That he’s just bought your publishing house. What else?’
‘Oh.’ She paused. ‘Well, that only happened a few days ago, and I thought you’d already know.’
‘Not until I read it in the Business section. In fact, I didn’t realise he was still in London,’ Gerard said shortly. ‘And I certainly never ask about his latest acquisitions or there wouldn’t be time to discuss the Bazaar Vert chain, which is my only concern.’
He paused. ‘So, how do you like the idea of working for Zandor?’
She bit her lip. ‘That’s—not actually going to happen. You see—I resigned from my job on Monday.’
He put down his knife and fork. ‘But you’re bound to serve a period of notice surely?’
‘Not on this occasion.’ She kept her voice bright. ‘I was told to clear my desk and go.’
‘Good God, Alanna.’ His smile was uneasy. ‘Tell me you haven’t been embezzling the petty cash.’
‘I hope that’s a joke. In any case, I wouldn’t know how.’
‘Then why?’
She shrugged. ‘Like a divorce. Irreconcilable differences but with a senior editor instead of a partner.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’ He paused, frowning. ‘I’ll have a word with Zandor. Get you reinstated.’
‘No,’ she said too quickly. ‘Please don’t do that. I—I can find another job. And, anyway, he has better things to do than concern himself with someone at the bottom of the food chain.’
‘Not when she’s my future wife,’ he said shortly. ‘And, on that subject, I’m glad to see you’re wearing a ring,’ he added, studying the glimmer of the opals on her left hand. ‘Not exactly what I’d have chosen, but that can be dealt with later.’
The ‘future wife’ reference sent alarm bells jangling. But now, for all sorts of reasons, did not seem to be the time to tell him once and for all that there’d be no ‘later’.
She shrugged again. ‘Well, the announcement’s been in the papers, and we’re having dinner with your Aunt Caroline tomorrow night, so I felt it would be appropriate.’
‘Yes.’ He was silent while their plates were cleared, and dessert menus proffered. ‘It seems that Grandam is staying with her, so it will be a real family party.’
Only if it’s the Corleone family, thought Alanna, groaning inwardly. Do I really need this?
She said, ‘Does your grandmother often come to London.’
‘No, it’s usually just for the Horse of the Year show at Olympia.’ He looked faintly awkward. ‘This time, however, I think she might want to mend a few fences. Discuss dates for meeting your parents, the engagement party and so on.’
Alanna forced a smile. ‘In which case, that’s what we’ll do.’
* * *
After some deliberation, she chose a plain shift dress in olive green linen for Saturday evening’s dinner. It wasn’t a favourite of hers by any means, in fact she was always meaning to give it to a charity shop because it creased at a glance and the colour did little for her, but it was slightly more than knee-length and short-sleeved with a demure scoop neck, all of which should withstand the kind of hostile scrutiny she was expecting.
As if she didn’t have enough problems already...
But—one last outing for it, she told herself with a mental shrug as she fixed gold studs in her ears and slid her grandmother’s ring onto her finger. And, perhaps, not many more with Gerard.
The Healeys lived in a tall semi-detached house in a street of identical properties. The door was opened to them by an elderly comfortable woman, greeted by Gerard as ‘Nanny’.
‘Came to look after Des and never left,’ he’d confided to Alanna as he parked the car. ‘And she does the cooking, so at least we’ll get a decent meal.’
Indicating that he viewed the evening ahead with as little relish as herself, Alanna decided with amusement, hoping at the same time that Desmond and Julia might also be there to ease the situation.
But her amusement and her hopes were equally short-lived. As they walked down the hall towards the rear of the house, they heard a high-pitched bray of female laughter, oddly familiar and emanating from the room at the far end.
Glancing at Gerard, she saw his mouth had tightened into a thin furious line and thought, Oh, God—it’s Felicity.
She found herself in a large, pleasant room with sliding doors opening onto the garden, golden in the evening sunlight.
And there, like the worm in the bud, was Felicity, stick-thin in ice blue again, this time with ruffles, and ensconced with Niamh Harrington on one of the cream leather sofas which flanked the empty hearth.
She swept Alanna with a look which silently confirmed all her suspicions about the olive dress, then passed on to Gerard, her lips curving into a dazzling smile.
‘Hello, my pet. This must be a surprise, but your grandmother absolutely insisted.’
I bet she did, thought Alanna, and just when he thought it was safe to go back in the water...
‘Good to see you both.’ Richard Healey came over to shake hands. ‘Now, what can I get you to drink.’
There was a jug of orange juice on a side table, so Alanna chose that while Gerard asked for whisky and water.
Mrs Healey was also on her feet, fussing about seating, and directing Gerard to the space which had conveniently appeared between Felicity and his grandmother, while indicating that Alanna should sit opposite.
‘Now isn’t this cosy,’ said Niamh Harrington with a stunning disregard for the truth. Her gaze went straight to Alanna’s left hand and her brows rose. ‘So you have a ring now, dear girl. Well, well, that’s a pretty little trinket.’ She patted Gerard’s arm. ‘You’ve picked yourself a thrifty wife, my lad.’
Which was not intended as a compliment, thought Alanna. Aloud, she said composedly, ‘I’m so glad you like it, Mrs Harrington.’
‘Oh, not so formal, please.’ The blue eyes twinkled at her. ‘After all, you’ll soon be one of the family, so you must call me Grandam.’
When hell freezes over, Alanna returned silently, at the same time letting her eyes widen in an imitation of shy gratification, which changed to real thankfulness when she heard the chime of the doorbell.
Desmond and Julia, she thought. At last. And looked across, smiling, as the door opened to admit them.
Only to feel the smile freeze on her lips as she saw who was actually standing there.
‘Good evening,’ said Zandor, and walked unhurriedly into the room.
He was not alone. The girl beside him was spectacularly beautiful, dark-haired and creamy-skinned, her vivid blue eyes shaded by long, curling lashes, her lips the colour of a pale rose. Her dress was pink too, and clung to every inch of an exquisitely curved body.
&nb
sp; ‘Forgive the intrusion, Aunt Caroline,’ Zandor went on, his eyes carelessly scanning the surprised faces, flicking past Alanna as if she did not exist. ‘But when I heard my grandmother was in town, I felt I couldn’t miss an opportunity to bring Lili to see her. After all, it’s so seldom they’re on the same continent.’
So this is Lili, Alanna thought numbly. The girl who was his personal leader of the pack and who, according to Joanne, he’d been wise not to bring to the abbey. But here now. And, dear God, with him.
She’d thought that Monday’s crying jag would somehow have dulled her emotions, setting her on the path to recovery, but as her entire body tensed to resist the pain that slashed at her, she knew that had been a vain hope.
That she was still as hopelessly, helplessly involved as she’d been from the moment she met him.
And the fact she now had the living proof that she’d lost the battle before it even began made no difference, even though she regretted even more her choice of the olive dress.
And how many kinds of idiot did that make her? she wondered wearily.
‘Quite right too, Zan.’ Richard Healey breezily filled the astonished and distinctly fraught silence. ‘Wonderful to see you again, my dear, and looking lovelier than ever. Isn’t she, Caroline? And, of course, you’ll both stay for dinner.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Mrs Healey, as if the words were being choked out of her. ‘But I wish you’d given us some notice, Zandor. I’m not sure...’
‘Nonsense, darling,’ her husband interrupted firmly. ‘Nanny always over-caters. Besides, salmon mayonnaise and summer pudding stretch anyway.’
‘In that case, we’d be delighted,’ Zandor said quietly.
He turned towards Niamh Harrington, sitting bolt upright, her face a frozen mask. ‘Well, Grandmother.’ There was an edge to his tone. ‘Aren’t you going to welcome Lili—after all this time?’
‘Naturally.’ Mrs Harrington’s voice was level. She extended her hand towards his companion. ‘It’s good to see you, my dear. Come and give me a kiss.’
As the girl obeyed, Alanna saw Gerard scrambling to his feet, his expression taut, his face dully flushed.
Lili bent gracefully, just touching her lips to Mrs Harrington’s cheek. As she straightened, she also turned. ‘Good evening, Gerard.’ A soft, husky voice. ‘Many congratulations on your engagement. I hope you’ll invite me to your wedding—and that you’ll also come to mine.’
