by Susan Lewis
Now, as he drove her back to her flat in Chelsea and listened to her enthusiasm for her new discovery, he found he was feeling much more relaxed with her than he had since that fateful night. Indeed, there had been only a couple of awkward moments these past few weeks, the worst being when she’d come into his office and apologized for having lunch with his family. He had been so startled by the apology and embarrassed, that he had heard himself telling her that he hoped she’d join them again one Sunday. Fortunately, she hadn’t brought it up since and his mother was under threat of credit card removal if she as much as mentioned it.
‘So you’d be happy for me to take on Stevie Brown?’ she said, glancing over at him as they passed through the dark, empty streets of King’s Cross.
Michael nodded. ‘Very,’ he replied. ‘He’s got a good stage presence and you’re right about his looks, they probably will work well on camera. How old is he?’
‘Eighteen,’ she answered. ‘Did he tell you he’s got a part in a friend’s film that they’re making for film school? He’s going to send a copy of some of the rushes so we can see how he works on screen. Would you like to see them when they come?’
‘Sure,’ he said, swinging the car into the left lane to allow a speeding police van to pass.
They were quiet for a while then, travelling swiftly along Euston Road then heading south towards Park Lane. It was Sandy who finally broke the silence. ‘Jodi tells me you’re going to Australia the week after next,’ she said.
Michael nodded. ‘That’s right.’
She looked over at him as he stopped the car at a red light and in the silvery glow of a street lamp she could see the perfect profile of his face and the strength of his hands on the wheel. Inside, she was such a bundle of nerves she barely knew what she was saying, for all she could really think about was what was going to happen when they got to Chelsea. Would he drive on over the bridge to his place? Or would he just take her straight home to hers?
‘Are you going to see Mark Bergin, the man you mentioned at the meeting the other day?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘Among others.’
‘How long will you be gone?’
‘A few weeks. I’m flying on to LA after. Victor Warren’s new film, United We Fall, is premièring there.’
Sandy turned to look out of the window. Her heart was tight with misgiving, for his mention of LA had reminded her of Ellen Shelby and the fear that that particular threat might not have gone away. As hard as she tried she couldn’t quite forget the way he had looked at Ellen that first night he saw her, and the fact that he had had dinner with her after weeks, months even, of swearing he’d never see Ted Forgon’s messenger still sat very uneasily with Sandy. But she must remember that it was her he had spent the night with, not Ellen, and as far as she was aware he hadn’t seen or even spoken to the woman again before she’d returned to LA. So there wasn’t really anything to worry about there, she was just nervous about everything where Michael was concerned and until they really sorted out how they were going to play their relationship she didn’t see that changing. ‘Do you think you’ll strike a deal with Mark Bergin?’ she asked, pushing Ellen Shelby from her mind as she gazed out at the smart white houses of Belgrave Square.
‘Mmm, there’s a chance,’ he responded, glancing over at her. He could see only the back of her blonde head, and thought how much better her hair looked since she had let it grow. Her hands were bunched together in her lap and the way her fingers were agitating each other told him how anxious she was. In an effort to put her at her ease he talked some more about Mark Bergin and what a major coup it would be for the agency if the investment programme came off.
‘What does he do, this Mark Bergin?’ she asked, knowing already as he’d told everyone at the meeting, but she needed something to say.
‘He’s an industrialist who wants to get into the arts,’ he reminded her. ‘And with the kind of money he’s offering to put up no one’s going to deny him,’ he added with a smile.
Sandy fell silent again and could feel her tension mounting as they drove towards Sloane Square, where he was going to need to turn right for her flat or left for his. Whichever direction he took she knew what she was going to do, for this was the first time she’d been alone with him since they’d slept together and there was just no way she could let the opportunity pass. She thought about him going to Australia and wished desperately that she could go with him. From the corner of her eye she looked down at his lap and had to fight the urge to touch him.
‘We’re going to talk about an LA and New York linkup,’ he told her, braking as they approached Sloane Square.
Sandy was confused for a moment, then remembered they’d been talking about the Australian, Mark Bergin. ‘So you’re going to make it international?’ she said, wondering if that sounded as stupid to him as it did to her.
‘It’s a possibility,’ he replied. ‘I’ll be talking to a few people in LA, then I’ll probably stop off in New York to see Chris Ruskin on the way back.’
‘Chris Ruskin?’ Sandy echoed, though she was barely listening as her heart flooded with disappointment and panic. He was turning right and in less than two minutes they would be outside her flat. She had to do something. She had to make him change his mind and take her home with him.
‘Our associate in New York,’ he reminded her, sounding surprised she hadn’t remembered. ‘Is it this one?’ he asked, looking up at the terrace of red-brick houses.
‘No, the next,’ she answered.
He accelerated gently, then came to a stop behind her neighbour’s car. ‘Would you like to come in for a coffee?’ she asked staring down at her hands as he turned to look at her.
‘It’s late, I’d better be getting back,’ he replied, glancing at his watch.
‘Will you take me with you?’ she asked, turning to look at him.
His eyes moved instantly away. ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea,’ he said awkwardly.
‘We need to talk, Michael,’ she said. ‘We need to sort out what’s going on between us.’
He took a breath, and after several seconds he looked at her again. ‘Sandy, listen,’ he said, ‘I know this is going to be hard, but—’
‘I know how you feel about me,’ she interrupted, ‘and I know you’re fighting it. But that’s OK. I don’t mind waiting. I just want you to know that I’ll keep our affair a secret for as long as you want.’
‘Sandy, we’re not having an affair,’ he said gently. ‘It happened once and …’
He was about to say it had been a mistake, but he didn’t want to hurt her any more than he already was. ‘Look I like you,’ he said, knowing it wasn’t strictly true. ‘You’re good at your job and you’re great with the actors …’
‘It can happen again,’ she said, moving towards him. ‘Any time you want it to.’
He caught her hand as it slid along his thigh. ‘Sandy, you’re making this very difficult,’ he told her, grabbing her other hand as she tried to kiss him. He turned his face away. ‘Sandy, stop.’ he said.
‘You can touch me,’ she panted, pushing his hand down to her lap. ‘I’m wet for you, Michael. Its the way you like it. Remember?’
To his dismay she wasn’t wearing underwear and yanking his hand away, he caught her hard by the arms and pressed her back into her seat. She pulled him with her and tried kissing him again.
‘If you like, we can do it here,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t mind.’
‘Sandy, for God’s sake, let go!’ he seethed, trying to unlock her arms from his neck.
‘Why are you pretending!’ she cried desperately. ‘I know you want it too. I see the way you look at me in the office. I know what you’re thinking, but you don’t want anyone else to know. Well, no one’s here now except you and me. You can do me and I’ll never tell anyone.’
She had let go of his neck, but as he drew back she began fumbling with his fly. Clutching her hands he pushed her hard back into the seat. �
��Listen to me,’ he snapped. ‘There’s no pretence going on here, except inside your head. I’m not going to make love to you tonight, or any other night. Do you hear me? What happened before, well, it shouldn’t have happened. It was my fault and I’m sorry if I led you to think there would be any more between us than that. Now please, pull your clothes down and let’s try to forget this ever happened.’
She lay back, looking at him, her breath ragged, tears of defeat standing brightly in her eyes. ‘Please,’ she whispered brokenly.
His eyes closed as frustration welled in him anew.
‘Just once …’
‘Sandy, no!’ he shouted. ‘Now, for God’s sake, pull yourself together and get out of the car.’
Her head fell forward and he felt a tear drop on to his hand.
‘I’m going to let you go now,’ he told her a few minutes later.
She nodded and sniffed, and very gently he took his hands away, bracing himself in case she lunged at him again.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I tried to rush you and I promised myself I wouldn’t. But I feel like I just have to be with you and sometimes the feeling’s so strong …’ Her breath caught on a sob. ‘I’m sorry,’ she finished lamely.
‘It’s OK,’ he told her, feeling the unsteady beat of his own heart. ‘Like I said, let’s just forget it happened.’
She lifted her face into the light. ‘Will you kiss me, just once?’ she asked.
He could see the tears glistening on her cheeks and as he looked at her he felt pity – and that same urge to violence he’d felt with her before. But there was no way he was going to touch her, either in tenderness or in fury.
‘No,’ he said softly. ‘I’m not going to kiss you. I’m going to wait for you to get out of the car, then I’m going home.’
Her breath shuddered inside her and fresh tears appeared in her eyes. She could feel his eyes boring into her and though there was a part of her that was so deeply ashamed she wished she could die, there was still a very strong part that wanted to carry on begging him. ‘Can I kiss you?’ she said.
He shook his head.
Pain circled her heart. ‘You do want me,’ she said, pulling down her skirt. ‘I know it. And I’ll wait.’
He said nothing, as she picked up her bag and opened the car door.
‘It doesn’t matter how long,’ she said.
He waited, watching her as she walked around the car and mounted the steps to her front door. He knew already that he hadn’t been forceful enough, that he should have spelled out to her that there was just no way there would ever be anything between them. God only knew what was going on inside her head, but she had clearly convinced herself of something and pushing her away tonight didn’t seem to have disabused her of anything. He groaned inwardly as he thought of how it was going to be from here, him constantly trying to avoid her and her never giving up on her quest. How long would it be, he wondered, before she caused a scene at the office? He had no evidence to say she would, but after what had happened here tonight anything was possible.
Starting the car, he pulled slowly away from the kerb and headed back towards the river. He was trying hard to come up with some grounds to fire her, something that wouldn’t end up involving the agency in a law-suit or her in any more pain than she was already suffering. Off the top of his head he could think of nothing, but he wanted her out of his life before she became a serious liability to him as well as to herself.
He sighed as he thought of the young actor who’d been so excited tonight at the prospect of being taken on by McCann Walsh. The boy’s hopes for the future were probably, even now, Oscar bound and who could blame him when Michael McCann himself had come along with the woman who was proposing to represent him. So what did he do now, assign the boy to someone else while he crushed Sandy’s career? It hardly seemed fair to make her pay such a bitter price for the fact that he didn’t care for her.
He accelerated hard, suddenly as angry with himself as he was with her. OK, he was to blame for sleeping with her in the first place, but God knew he’d done nothing to encourage the girl since. So there was no dilemma really, she had to go and she had to go soon, before she misinterpreted anything else he said and ended up even more desperate and pathetic than she already was.
‘No! You’re not serious!’ Janine, one of the bookers, cried, her eyes glittering with delight as she clasped a hand over her mouth.
‘Sssh,’ Bertie warned, glancing over at Sandy and, drawing Janine and Frances into a closer huddle, he went on with his gossip.
Sandy was at her desk the other side of the well marking up scripts for Janey and Diana. It wasn’t unusual for Bertie to make out he was talking about her whether he was or wasn’t, so ignoring his little performance she simply carried on with what she was doing, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing she cared.
It was a laborious task she was undertaking and she doubted either Janey or Diana would look at the scripts when she’d finished, but she did it anyway so they could see, should they wish, which roles she was sending their clients up for. Already Janey had come to rely on her heavily, since about the time of Sandy’s promotion one of Bobby Mack’s kids had gone down with an illness no one seemed able to diagnose. It meant that Janey was rarely in the office, which suited Sandy perfectly, for not only did it allow her to act as an agent, it saved her from having to suffer the way Michael enjoyed Janey’s company. As for Diana, she was more than happy for Sandy to take over her lower-profile actors while she concentrated on the bigger names.
All this meant that Sandy’s hopes for further promotion were grounding themselves firmly in an expectation of being made up by the end of the year. At least, if she worked hard on developing her own list she might, but discovering new talent was one thing, finding productions to cast them in another altogether. But the way to remedy that was to put more effort into forging contacts with even more producers and directors than she was already on terms with. She’d give almost anything to find a way in with the directors Michael represented, but they were all such big names and worked so consistently that short of asking Michael to introduce her she knew there was little chance of making that breakthrough yet.
Hearing the others burst out laughing again, her insides turned hot, but without deigning to look up she opened another script and carried on with what she was doing. She’d seen Michael every day since that night in his car, and though she’d felt embarrassed and awkward at first, she still hadn’t given up hope. To the contrary, in fact, for thinking about it after, she had realized that there was every chance he had rejected her because he wanted her to know that she mattered much more than a quick screw in the back of a car. So, by turning her down and telling her he liked her he had made her see that it wasn’t how he wanted to treat her and that if she just gave it time the like would probably turn to love.
Drawing a thick yellow marker along the edge of a ruler, highlighting various names on a cast list, she kept her eyes lowered and tried not to hear the continued whispering and laughter going on over at Frances’s and Janine’s desks. Thea and Jodi had joined them now and knowing that Jodi was a part of it hurt a lot more than Sandy wanted to admit. But she would get her revenge one of these days, when she was an agent and in a position to make them pay.
After checking her watch, she picked up the phone and dialled Stevie Brown, her new protégé. ‘Stevie,’ she said when he answered, ‘do you have the cassette yet?’
‘I’m trying, Sandy,’ he groaned. ‘I swear it, but Todd’s not calling me back.’
‘Then let me ring him.’
‘You can if you like, but his machine’s on. He’s up to his eyes trying to cut this film together. The last I heard he was wanting a reshoot for some of the scenes.’
Sandy sighed. That didn’t bode well for Todd’s film, but it was seeing Stevie on camera she was after. ‘So when do you think he’s going to get a tape to you?’ she asked.
‘It’s hard to
say, but I’ll keep on it,’ he promised. ‘It’s not going to affect me joining McCann’s, is it? This not getting the tape.’
‘No. You’re already my client,’ she assured him. ‘It’s just that I want Michael to see you on screen before he leaves for Australia.’
‘When does he go?’
‘The day after tomorrow.’
Stevie swore under his breath. ‘Would it be too late when he gets back?’ he asked.
Sandy’s heart sank, for she was intending to use the tape as an excuse to see Michael before he went. She’d love to think he might seek her out instead, but she doubted it, so it was up to her to give them a few precious moments together to carry them over the time he was away. ‘No, I suppose not,’ she replied, already trying to think of another way through. ‘But if you do get it before Friday call me. I’ll send someone over for it.’
As she rang off the lift doors opened and Michael came in with Zelda and Dan. The instant she saw him Sandy’s heart turned over and unable to stop herself she watched him walk around the upper circle to his office. He didn’t look at her, but she felt sure he knew she was there. He had been to Chutney Mary’s over on the King’s Road with Zelda and Dan, where Craig would have joined them had he not stolen a rare few days away with his lover. Sandy wondered if Michael knew where Craig was. If he did she knew he would never say, any more than she would, for were anyone ever to get wind of the affair it would mean an end to the Cabinet Minister’s career, if not his marriage, and probably Craig too.
Looking across to where Bertie was still perched on the edge of Janine’s desk, Sandy found them all looking in her direction. Before she turned away she saw that Jodi at least had the decency to blush. Indeed, she got up and went back to her office and Sandy was so deeply engrossed on the phone by the time she emerged again that she didn’t see her go into Michael’s office, then come out a few minutes later – nor did she see the signal Jodi gave Bertie to tell him he could go in and see Michael now.
