Beaumont Brides Collection (Wild Justice, Wild Lady, Wild Fire)

by Liz Fielding

  ‘Would you like to take some brochures with you?’

  ‘Oh, no. Thanks. I know where I’m going.’

  Or did she? Because despite what she had told Trudy, she was rushing straight back to Oz and the comfort of old friends. Going back not forward. But as the adrenalin rush evaporated from her system she certainly felt an urgent need to sit down somewhere quiet to try and make sense of what she was doing.

  Sense was not going out of its way to co-operate. As she crossed the square to a wine bar, this time travelling at considerably less than the speed of light, she saw the exquisite double take with which the mime artist swivelled the attention of his audience towards her. Her momentum faltered slightly, but she kept on walking.

  *****

  Before she had gone more than a few yards there was a tap on her shoulder. She swung round determined to tell the man to find someone else to pick on, but there was no one there. A tap on her other shoulder and still no one.

  The crowd was laughing quite openly now, but she wasn’t in the mood to play straight man to a clown. She took a deep breath and for a moment she remained perfectly still before turning to ask him, very politely, to leave her alone. But when she came face to face with him, he was standing with his hand over his heart, every line of his body exquisitely portraying the bashful little man in love with a beautiful girl. In spite of everything, she smiled.

  That was a mistake. Encouraged, he immediately responded by producing an outrageous daisy from thin air, presenting it to her with a ground-scraping bow.

  Three floors above the square, Trudy shook her head. The boy was superb. Graceful, funny, pathetic in turn as he wooed Melanie with his art. She was still smiling as she turned back to her desk and pressed the intercom on her desk.

  ‘Get me Claudia Beaumont, will you, Lisa?’

  A few moments later the telephone rang. ‘Trudy?’ Claudia’s voice floated seductively from the receiver. ‘How did it go?’

  ‘Not well. She wouldn’t even discuss the sitcom. I’m afraid it’s going to take more than that to keep her in England.’

  ‘Damn. Luke was certain that a new challenge would keep her here. Any ideas?’

  ‘Not one. Unless you know of anyone smitten enough with the child to underwrite her in A Doll’s House.’

  ‘You’re kidding.’

  ‘I wish I was.’ Claudia let out a long slow whistle. ‘Precisely. I gave her rather a hard time I’m afraid.’

  ‘Poor Melanie.’

  ‘She doesn’t need your sympathy, darling, she gave me an equally rough ride and if she was poor there wouldn’t be a problem, she wouldn’t be able to turn this down. I’m really worried about her going back to Australia. They adore her there and they’d give anything to get her to stay. They’ll spoil her rotten, tell her how wonderful she is and before you know it she’ll be back in the soaps. Can’t Luke do something?’

  ‘What? She’s an adult. If she wants to take a year off and disappear there isn’t a thing we can do about it.

  ‘It seems out of character. She’s a family girl, and she’s been over-protected. When I think of the way you behaved at her age.’

  Claudia pulled a face at the telephone. ‘You think there’s something more than a holiday behind this?’

  ‘Maybe. But she’s worked hard for years in television,’ Trudy pointed out. ‘It could be that she’s just lost the taste for it. What does Edward think?’

  ‘He doesn’t know. He’d already left on his honeymoon - but I know it’ll break his heart if she drifts away.’

  ‘Will it? He’s got a new wife to keep him happy. And a new step-daughter.’

  ‘Heather? Puh-lease!’ Claudia paused. ‘Oh, dear God. You don’t think that’s behind this sudden need to get away? I would have said that Melanie didn’t have a jealous bone in her body.’

  ‘And I would agree you. But on reflection it is possible that it’s the new Mrs Beaumont who’s brought on this attack of the sulks. The papers have made a great deal of fuss about the wedding. How Edward has finally got over the death of the precious Elaine.’

  ‘Oh, don’t. It’s been a nightmare. If people only knew.’

  ‘Well they don’t. They don’t know that Edward loathed Elaine, or that she made his life a living hell and they don’t know that he loved Melanie’s mother. It must have hurt. Happy ever after would have seen her mother in Diana’s place.’

  ‘But her mother is-’

  ‘Dead.’ Trudy paused. ‘Forgotten?’ she enquired, not very kindly.

  ‘Of course not! Surely she can’t think. Oh, Trudy, what on earth can we do?’

  ‘Nothing. Or at least nothing that isn’t weeks too late. Isn’t there a man around to distract her?’

  ‘A man?’ Claudia cocked an errant brow at the telephone. ‘Don’t let the thought police hear you suggesting something so politically incorrect.’

  ‘This is an emergency, Claudia. It’s the best I can come with at a moment’s notice.’

  ‘Well Andy Gilbert is still carrying a torch -’

  ‘Good grief, Claudia, I said a man. Someone capable of driving every other thought out of her head. If he hasn’t managed to do that by now he’s not going to be any use to us. What this situation needs is a midnight lover.’

  ‘A midnight lover?’

  ‘The kind of man that dreams are made of, darling. Surely I don’t have to spell it out to you? You married one.’

  Claudia laughed softly. ‘If she finds someone like Mac you might never get her back, Trudy.’

  ‘I’ll take that risk.’

  ‘Then I’ll put my mind to it, although I have to warn you, men in that category are rarer than hen’s teeth. I’m sure Dad could sort this out in a moment if he were here.’

  ‘How long are the honeymooners planning to be away?’

  ‘Who knows? Luke and Mac chartered them a yacht in the West Indies as a joint wedding present. Neither of them have any commitments to rush back for so they’ve decided to take their time, go where they like, do as they please.’

  ‘Some people have all the luck. Claudia… You’ve worked with Mel, how good is she? Really?’

  Claudia laughed. ‘You’re her agent, Trudy, why are you asking me?’

  ‘Because I want to know.’

  There was small silence and then Claudia said, ‘Melanie is better than anybody will ever give her credit for, Trudy, better than she probably realizes herself. The trouble is she makes it look so easy that people assume she’s not working at it, that she’s just being herself.’

  Trudy grimaced. ‘That,’ she said, ‘explains a lot.’

  *****

  Melanie laughed. She knew how it was done but the sponge flower compressed in the clown’s palm expanded so swiftly that it seemed to appear from nowhere. But she still wasn’t going to be sucked into his act for the amusement of the crowd.

  She declined the flower with a quick shake of the head and stepped around him. The crowd, with one voice went, “Ahhhh ...”

  It was almost irresistible. Almost. But as she turned away he was there again. He was not tall. She was five feet seven in her thickest woolly socks and this man barely topped her, yet he was holding the crowd that had gathered to watch him in the palm of his hand with the power of his presence.

  The leotard moulded to his body displayed beautifully sculpted muscles and beneath the white make-up, the mournful painted-on expression, his bones were finely modelled. He would attract attention even when he wasn’t performing.

  And whether she liked it or not he had already made her part of his performance, the kind of mime perfected by Charlie Chaplin, the bashful little man falling in love with the beautiful, unattainable girl. Despite herself, she was drawn in until when, finally he presented her with the absurd flower once more, she laughed and took it, allowing him to kiss her hand.

  She was still laughing as she finally walked away, her temper having evaporated as quickly as it had boiled up in the warmth and charm of his performance. He w
as well worth the ten-pound note she’d dropped in his hat.

  Then as she crossed the piazza to a small wine bar she felt another tap on her shoulder. But she wasn’t playing again.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked, as she turned to face him. He shook his head, holding out her ten-pound note, presenting it to her with a formal little bow.

  Did he think it was a mistake? ‘No, no,’ she said, slightly embarrassed. ‘Keep it. Please.’

  He went through an exquisite routine; his heart was hers, he could not take her money.

  They were beginning to attract attention. ‘Don’t be silly. You earned it. You were wonderful.’

  He feigned modesty. She didn’t believe it but laughed out loud at his nonsense and apparently encouraged by this, he elaborately but silently invited her to join him for a drink.

  ‘Well, that’s an original pick-up line.’

  ‘But did it work?’ he asked, finally breaking out of character. ‘What do you say?’

  *****

  Jack Wolfe, a few floors above Trudy Morgan, in the penthouse suite, was also more interested in what was happening in the square than the protests of his younger brother.

  ‘Come on Jack, be fair. The way you boss me about anyone would think you were my father.’

  ‘I might as well be.’ Jack Wolfe bit down hard, turning abruptly from the performance below him. ‘Who else do you turn to when your rent needs paying? Or when you need funds for a rugby tour? Or when-’

  ‘That’s just it, Jack,’ Tom rushed in, not in the least abashed by this catalogue of his ingratitude. ‘I’ve got a ticket for the rugby international at Murrayfield this weekend. They’re like gold dust.’

  ‘And undoubtedly as expensive. I’m sorry Tom. I have no doubt that the England team will miss your support to a man and I wouldn’t ask you to do this for me if it wasn’t important, but I’m needed in Chicago…’ - Tom opened his mouth to argue, but Jack had had enough - ‘…and someone has to be in my apartment when the workmen come to fit the windows.’

  ‘Why the hell to they have to do it this weekend?’

  ‘Because they didn’t do it properly the first time. If it’s any comfort I don’t suppose they are any happier about it than you -’

  ‘Christ, Jack, not just workmen, but bad-tempered workmen. Can’t Caroline sort it out? You’re seeing her this evening, aren’t you?’

  ‘I’ve had to cancel that too. So you’re not the only one who’s suffering-’

  ‘She gave you a hard time too, did she? I don’t suppose she’s used to being stood up.’

  ‘-and since I’d rather not encourage Caro’s nesting instincts, I’m afraid for the purpose of this exercise, you are it, Tom. Accept your fate gracefully.’

  Tom reserved all the grace at his command for the rugby field. For the glacial beauty his brother chose to squire about town he had nothing but undisguised loathing.

  ‘Nesting instincts?’ He snorted. ‘You’ve got to be kidding. That woman has all the home-making instincts of the cuckoo.’

  ‘I sincerely hope so,’ his brother replied, with a wintry smile. ‘Her lack of domesticity is one of Caro’s most endearing qualities. But women have a way of disguising their true feelings and I am not prepared to take the risk.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why am I not prepared to take the risk?’ Jack asked, an edge to his voice.

  But Tom was feeling reckless. ‘If you like. I mean why on earth do you hang around with women like her? Aren’t you afraid of getting frostbite? Christ, she’s so thin I’d be afraid she’d break if I turned over in bed too quickly.’

  ‘Fortunately, that is something that you will never have to worry about.’

  ‘You can’t punish yourself forever, Jack.’

  ‘Punish myself?’ The edge sharpened and Tom flushed.

  There was an unbreachable boundary about his brother, an inviolate area of his life that no one was allowed to mention. Tom had been too young at the time to really understand what had happened to his brother when Lisette died, but as he grew older he could see that blanking it off was a mistake. Avoiding emotional involvement with women like Caroline Hickey who were all appearance and no heart, would in the end destroy him. But knowing it and telling him were two different things.

  ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’

  Jack accepted his apology with a dismissive gesture and turned back to the window. The mime artist was trying to draw a girl into his act, the girl from the travel agents who had been in such a state. She didn’t want to play, he could see by her body language that she just wanted to get away but as she turned to tell the clown to leave her alone he must have done something to make her smile.

  It was a smile that lit up the square, a smile that seemed to underline his own emotional sterility, the terrible emptiness at his core.

  Just for a second, in the doorway of the travel agents he’d had a glimpse of how it could have been as every instinct had urged him to take the girl into his arms and hold her, offer her simple human comfort. Except that people were never simple.

  If she had been a company in trouble he would have leapt in there, done everything he could to help without thinking twice. That would have been easy.

  But people expected so much more, demanded so much more. He had failed once and he hadn’t been able to handle it. The responsibility for another person’s life was too much. So he had chosen to ignore the need he had recognized in a young woman’s face and walk away from the risk.

  The clown was doing a lot better. And now the act was finished, he was following her, talking to her, taking her into the wine bar. It must be easier for a clown, Jack thought, with a white painted face to hide behind.

  ‘It was a long time ago, Jack, ‘ Tom persisted as he walked away from the window.

  ‘You’ll need a key,’ Jack said, as if he hadn’t spoken. He took one from his pocket and held it out. For a moment Tom looked as if he would baulk then, with a shrug of resignation he gave in and took it. ‘Oh, and Tom-’

  ‘I know. No parties.’ He sighed.

  Recognizing that his brother had finally accepted the inevitable, Jack Wolfe’s expression softened a little. ‘It’s not that bad.’

  ‘Yes it is. You haven’t even got a television.’

  ‘You can listen to the match on the radio,’ he pointed out, suddenly tired of pandering to a spoilt boy’s complaints. ‘And should you find time hanging heavy you could always try revising for your exams.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  MELANIE laughed at the clown’s cheek. Then, as the slight Aussie twang in his voice rang a cord in her memory, she asked, ‘Do I know you?’

  ‘I cannot tell a lie. Our paths have crossed before.’ And he bowed low from the waist. ‘Richard Latham, actor manqué, at your service.’

  ‘Richard?’ She could scarcely believe it. It had been five years since they had both been in the same soap opera. They had both been little more than children and it was doubtful if she would have recognized the man, even without the white make-up. ‘This is amazing. How long have you been in London? I suppose you saw me coming out of Trudy Morgan’s office?’ she prompted.

  ‘A glass of wine?’ Richard asked. ‘Or shall we save time and order a bottle?’

  ‘Neither. A cappuccino, please Marco.’ Richard looked disappointed. ‘I’m afraid it goes straight to my head, but don’t let me stop you.’

  ‘No, there’s no fun in drinking alone. Make it two cappuccinos, Marco,’ he said, and then turned back to Mel. ‘Actually I saw you arrive at Trudy’s,’ he said, finally answering her question. ‘I was waiting for you to come out.’

  ‘But I might not have stopped to watch you.’

  ‘You didn’t,’ he pointed out. ‘I made you stop.’ Then he shrugged. ‘I have to admit it took two attempts. You didn’t even notice me the first time. You seemed a bit upset.’

  ‘Just in a hurry.’ Richard was charming, and under the white make-up he was undoubtedly still as
attractive as he had been when they worked together. But she hadn’t fallen for him then and had no desire to confide in him now. ‘What are you doing performing in the street, Richard? I thought you’d left show business and gone to work for your father.’

  ‘I did. But the company was taken over last year by one of those international conglomerates and the Latham family became surplus to requirements. Dad made things easy for them by having a heart attack. I was harder to get rid of, but in the end I had no choice.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Richard.’ Sorry too for the bitterness in his voice. ‘How is your father now?’

  ‘Relaxing. Pretending very hard that sitting in the garden is all he ever wanted to do with his life. That’s not for me.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘I’ve a few things to settle before I make any major decisions. What about you? Are the offers pouring in after your West End debut?’

  Melanie pulled a rueful face. ‘My agent has a sit-com lined up for me. She thinks it’s exactly what I need right now. I don’t.’

  ‘But you’ll do it.’

  ‘Will I?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course. You’re too nice, too sweet to seriously upset anyone by saying no.’

  Slightly irritated by his patronizing attitude, she forgot her unwillingness to confide in him. ‘I already have.’

  ‘Then she’ll leave it for a few days, let you work up a head of guilt and then she’ll ask you again. You won’t be able to turn her down. Not twice.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘Ridiculous? Me? Think back just five minutes, Mel. You wanted to tell me to go to hell out there, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Come on, admit it.’

  He was inviting her to laugh at herself and she did, although she didn’t find it all that funny.