Another Way

by Frankie McGowan

  Letty was coming to London with the camera crew and it was going to be another crowded day: filming homeless youngsters on the streets of London, an interview with the Social Services Minister and at least two commentaries to camera.

  The lift doors opened and she stepped out, heading for the revolving door.

  ‘Miss Carter, Miss Carter,’ called the uniformed hall porter. ‘Phone call for you.’ Ellie turned back, trying to think why Lucy could want to stop her.

  ‘Ellie,’ came Lucy’s frantic voice. ‘Boardroom. Bentley himself wants to see you.’

  Startled, Ellie headed back for the lift and pressed for the ninth floor to meet for the first time and in uncertain circumstances the man who paid her salary.

  Dixie came to meet her. ‘So what is it this time,’ joked Ellie tiredly. ‘My head on a plate, or a public hanging?’

  Dixie hurried along beside her but Ellie thought she didn’t look too despondent.

  ‘Not sure. But you know he isn’t as bad as he’s made out to be. Just lacks the human touch. You’ll like him. Ian’s in there too.’

  There was no time for more as Ellie found herself being ushered not into Bentley Goodman’s vast office, which had been designed by someone whose enthusiasm for Citizen Kane had got out of hand, but across this and into another room where Ian Willoughby was having an early evening drink with his boss.

  It was not so much an office as a vast, elegant drawing room. Plump sofas were covered in tea roses, Colefax and Fowler chintz curtains framed three sets of windows looking out over the treetops of a pretty garden square, and in an open fireplace, although the weather was certainly not cold enough, a cheerful fire blazed.

  Ellie was taken by surprise. And by Bentley Goodman.

  The man himself rose from one of the sofas, doing up the middle button of his double-breasted pin-striped suit.

  He was of only average height, with steel-grey hair, but with a light tan, beautifully manicured nails and a tailor who had skilfully combined style with authority, he gave the impression of being much taller.

  ‘Good of you to join us,’ he said, coming forward and taking her hand. ‘Have you got time for a drink?’

  Ellie nodded.

  ‘I’ll come straight to the point,’ he said bluntly when Ellie, glancing at Ian, took her place in one of the armchairs. ‘Jerome is a very talented young man, an editor with a great future.’

  Ellie almost choked but, catching Ian’s warning look, remained silent.

  ‘You on the other hand have something he doesn’t have and that is maturity. Yes, I know what I’m saying. Ian, however, has assured me that you would not misuse such a confidence. Jerome is uncertain with people who know more than he does, he has yet to master the art of listening. I’m not asking you to make allowances for him. I am the one who decides on that. But I am asking you not to allow what’s happened to get in the way of what I think could be an exciting working relationship. Think about it overnight and let me have your decision tomorrow, but I think you know what we all hope that will be.’

  Ellie put down her untouched drink. It wasn’t only Jerome who had to learn the art of listening.

  Reading between the lines, Ellie knew this was Bentley’s way of saying that Jerome had been well and truly ticked off. He was also asking her to defuse a tricky situation. What had happened to her in the past year had made scoring points off Jerome Strachan terribly trivial.

  She thought of Ria and what it must have taken to confess such a story to her and Oliver. She thought of Clive, so kind and forgiving knowing that she had been in love with someone else for a very long time, and she thought of Theo who had not allowed quite false accusations against him get in the way of doing the right thing. Suddenly everything else seemed very unimportant. Especially Jerome Strachan’s wounded feelings.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said to Bentley. ‘But I don’t need to think it over. I’d obviously like my contract to continue. In fact,’ she said earning a grateful smile from Ian, ‘I think Jerome would too, we’ve got so many ideas in the pipeline it would be difficult not to.’

  Twenty minutes later she strolled through Sonya’s outer office and, tapping lightly on the door, went in to find Jerome on the point of leaving for the night.

  ‘I meant to tell you,’ she said as though nothing had happened. ‘I’ve got an interview with the leader of the opposition. Would you like to talk about it later in the week?’

  Jerome nodded silently. He wasn’t going to handle this well, thought Ellie with a groan. Please God, don’t let him start trying to apologize or explain.

  ‘That sounds great. Yes, let’s talk on Monday.’

  Ellie waved a cheery hand at him and started to go.

  ‘Oh, Ellie,’ he called after her. ‘Maybe over lunch?’

  She shook her head with a smile. ‘I don’t do lunch any more, Jerome, but I would welcome a glass of champagne at the end of the day,’ and with that she closed the door.

  *

  Jed’s car was still parked outside Ellie’s flat. Later, after a few hours’ sleep, he told her he would come over and collect it.

  ‘I might even give you supper,’ she offered, wishing that a few hours’ sleep was all that was needed to get rid of the ache she felt at the mess her life was in.

  No, that wasn’t true. The ache was for the loss of Theo. I’m not going to think about it, she said resolutely and proceeded to do nothing else all the way home.

  She let herself into her silent flat, picked up the mail and checked the machine for messages. Once she would have been only too eager to take up any of the invitations from her friends to join them for supper, a drink, the cinema. But tonight she wanted her own thoughts and company. In her bedroom she stripped off her clothes, ran a bath, pouring the last of some scented bath oil into the rushing water.

  Later, after she had shampooed her hair, she pulled on a white cotton robe and made a very strong pot of coffee. When it was brewed she took it on a tray into the living room, picking up her post and stretched out on the sofa.

  Bills, circulars, someone’s writing she didn’t recognize which turned out to be Carol’s commiserating with her and asking her to dinner with her and Joe next time she was down. Her and Joe, eh?

  Pouring the coffee with one hand, she flicked through the rest and then her heart stopped. There in sloping letters, black, bold and larger than life, just as he was, was a letter from Clive.

  Slowly she replaced the cup and with shaking hands opened the envelope. It had been nearly a week since she had seen him and it felt like an eternity. She missed him so much. Before she had even read it she knew that wouldn’t change, but if she could no longer have his friendship, his loving friendship, she needed his forgiveness.

  He was writing from the apartment, before going down to Joanne and the boys. He needed his family, he said, and it was then that Ellie knew no matter what they might have been to each other, she would never have replaced that trio of people who represented his security, who drew him back in times of trouble.

  She turned the page.

  ‘There is nothing to forgive, and nothing to forget,’ he wrote. ‘Just a pain that will, in the end, go away. You don’t stop loving someone because they cease to fill a need in your life. You love them for having done it. I don’t want to pass you in the street without saying hello, or to hear you’re in trouble and not offer help. Nor do I care much for the thought of hearing about you second hand.

  ‘If I can’t be the love of your life, and you can’t be mine, then let me be the friend, the uncritical friend, who will be with you for life. In a while. Not yet.’

  Slowly she lowered the page and curled up on to the cushions, Clive’s letter clasped in her hand. It was more than she had asked for, but then that’s why she had loved him. She still did. Always would.

  Intending to close her eyes for just a few minutes, she tried to visualize Clive, dragging her off to an unheard-of exhibition, making her walk for miles until he found a pub he had bee
n told about one day a year ago in Dublin, listening intently as she argued with him and wrapped in his arms as she fell asleep.

  *

  The incessant buzzing at the door finally penetrated the mists of sleep. Groggily Ellie rolled off the sofa, trying to focus on her wrist watch. It was eleven o’clock. She had been asleep for two hours. Jed must have been buzzing the door for ages.

  ‘I’m coming,’ she called, switching lamps on as she went.

  ‘I just crashed out,’ she said, swinging open the door and rubbing her eyes.

  ‘I’ve just got in,’ said the voice she loved best in the world.

  Her eyes flew open, one hand flew to her mouth, the other clutching the neck of her gown. She opened and closed her mouth. This must be a dream. Theo was in New York, not Fulham. Jed would be here in a minute and tell her to wake up.

  ‘Do you think I might come in?’ Theo asked, and for the first time she saw that even though he was smiling, he was unshaven and his eyes were showing signs of fatigue.

  Ellie stepped aside and closed the door after him.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m just so slow about these things,’ she said, wondering why she suddenly felt terribly shy and Theo was now standing uncertainly in the hallway. ‘I thought you were in New York.’

  ‘I was. I came back.’

  ‘Back?’ Even to her ears she sounded stupid. ‘Why? When?’

  ‘Er... why? Well, the view over here is infinitely more attractive,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘As for when? Well, I’ve come straight from Heathrow, the plane was late. Otherwise I would have been here earlier. I’m sorry it’s so late but I wanted to talk to you.’

  He waited for her to say something.

  ‘Finlay gave me your message,’ he said helpfully. ‘And er... I spoke to my mother. And Jed.’ He waited.

  Ellie had not been able to take her eyes from his face. His expression was watchful, wary. She had seen Theo angry, gentle, amusing and loving. She realized that not until now had she ever seen him uncertain.

  ‘And to deliver something.’ He was holding out a solid square box, wrapped in gold paper. Wonderingly she took it from him, glancing from him to the box as she pulled the string. As she removed the lid of the red velvet box that she found inside, she stifled a gasp, and a lump came into her throat.

  Carefully, gently she lifted the precious gold horseshoe from its velvet cushion and turned it over in her hand. It was gleaming now; she remembered it had been tarnished. But the inscription was still there. ‘Ellie, love always, Mummy.’

  And suddenly tears were streaming down her face.

  Brushing them away, she looked at him, exhausted, anxious, not convinced of his welcome and just held him.

  ‘Oh, my darling girl,’ Theo whispered in a voice that was far from steady, half laughing. And then they just stood clinging to each other, all the pain and misery and confusion of the last year, melting away as they drew strength from each other, just being together.

  ‘I’ve had that horseshoe for years,’ he said brushing her hair from her face. ‘I found it. When we were putting the house back together. I just kept it in my safe in New York. I forgot about it until you reminded me that it was there. So I just waited until I could find a way of giving it back to you.’

  ‘Are you always going to wait so long for everything you do?’ She smiled up at him.

  ‘Miss Carter,’ he said in a very unsteady voice. ‘I happen to be very much in love with you and it looks as though it’s incurable, but I really do think having crossed the Atlantic twice in thirty-six hours, that has to count as not wasting any time. You have no idea what that does to your brain-’

  ‘Just a minute,’ she said indignantly. ‘I’ve been suffering as well. And how dare you treat me like a child and not tell me I owe all this to you, and let me go on thinking you loved Debra and what on earth could you possibly see in her and where is she, by the way?’

  ‘New York with Gavin... and threatening to expose me for the bastard I am...’ he said, kissing her. ‘And I don’t see anything in her...’

  ‘And what has Jed to do with this? How come you’re so friendly with him?’

  ‘Er... I’m not. Well I can see I’m going to have to be. Stefano is um – friendly – with him and I’m very friendly with Stefano, so no way out.’

  ‘Nonsense. You wouldn’t give a fig about that if you didn’t like him.’

  ‘Oh alright,’ he sighed. ‘If you must know, the night in Venice when you ran off, they were so bored having to sit with me while I got drunk, they just urged me to find a solution to it all. I wasn’t banking on it being my mother. She’s very nice, you know,’ he said, eyeing her hopefully.

  ‘I’ll work on it,’ said Ellie carefully. ‘But you don’t seem to mind in the slightest all the shocks you’ve dumped on me and letting me believe that you would ruin Oliver. You don’t know the misery I’ve been going through and Jed is so fed up with me he made me drive back from the printers and I was so tired, and all you’ve done is sit in luxury flying around the world, and I’ve got to film all day tomorrow...’

  ‘Ellie, Ellie...’ he laughed, winding his arms round her shoulders and kissing her nose. ‘Not the world. Typical bloody journalist exaggeration. Just the Atlantic and are you going to talk this much when we’re married?’

  ‘Possibly,’ she grinned shyly, hugging him to her. ‘Unless,’ she added mischievously, ‘you can find some way of stopping me, which shouldn’t be beyond the powers of a resourceful man like you.’

  And she was right.

  And Then…

  Ellie walked slowly up from the village to Delcourt. The sun was hot on her back, her bare feet were pushed into plimsolls, a canvas bag was slung casually around her neck, a plain white T-shirt tucked into a long, faded blue cotton skirt carelessly tied at the waist with a narrow silk scarf.

  At the top of the hill, the road divided. To the right was the wide gravel drive that led up to Delcourt and beyond that Oliver’s house. To the left, the narrow track wound its way to the top of the cliff where rocky steps led down to Willetts Bay Beach.

  It was not yet midday. Theo would not be here for hours. For a brief moment she hesitated and then, just as she had when she was a child, the decision rarely delaying her for long, she made her choice. Why not?

  Turning left towards the top of the cliff, she climbed down the rocky steps, jumping the last three as she always did, landing with a soft thump in the grainy shingle that further on gave way to moist sand and clusters of rocks. With one hand leaning against the mossy wall of the cliff to steady herself, she bent down and removed her plimsolls so that she could walk barefoot in the soft shingle until she reached her favourite spot.

  First she took her bag from around her neck, threw it up and then tucked the hem of her long cotton skirt into her waistband until she had pulled herself up after it, wriggling her bottom into a comfortable position, her back feeling the delicious heat of the sun where it had warmed the rock behind her.

  For a while she was content to sit and gaze out over the long stretch of beach, the tide well out, a shimmering haze promising the first hot still afternoon. The beginning of summer. It had been a long week. Three days filming for Letty and a profile for Jerome. Next week was going to be busy too, she knew, but for now...

  Theo had taken her to dinner with his mother before she left for an extended stay in their summer home at Cape Cod with Robert and this weekend Theo was due at Delcourt. Not to meet Pa. That would have to come later. Later, when some of the hurt and confusion had found their rightful place. As they had with Clive.

  As Clive had said, they had a long time ahead to do that.

  Gemma and Bill were moving to Blackheath to be nearer Bill’s job and to a house with a garden for Amy, and Jed’s departure for New York was now only a fortnight away. Everything was changing. But this time the changes were of their own making, not someone else’s decision.

  Reaching into her bag, she brought out her black diary and bega
n to flick through the pages, her sunglasses pushed on top of her head. Reading back over the last year was like reading about another life. Dinner with Polly, Paul. WIN meetings with Liz or Anne or someone who wanted to get on without giving anything back.

  Interviews with the world and his wife, committee meetings. Must go. Don’t forget. The terrible dark days of being let go, the painfully blank pages of days she would rather forget, but knew she would always remember as the days when she found the courage to be herself.

  It was different now. The diary she used these days stayed with Lucy or on her desk at home. No longer were appointments ringed urgently in black Pentel, no more torrent of commitments that hijacked her time and distorted her thinking. Pages that were now filled with reminders about Gemma and Bill, babysitting Amy or dashing down to see Amanda. About Letty, Joe and Carol.

  Now it reflected a young woman who had found love, found a career and most of all had found herself.

  Slowly, carefully she got up and began to slide down the rock and then she walked, hugging her diary to her chest, right down to the edge of the sea where the waves were lapping gently on to the sand, drawing rhythmically back into the tide, a stiff breeze catching at her T-shirt, flapping it against her sides, tugging at her skirt, the front buttons swinging open to reveal bare, slender legs.

  There was a small smile on her face as she shaded her eyes against the brilliant light reflecting off the steady swell of the sea, the water swirling around her feet.

  It was time to let go. Ellie opened the pages of her diary.

  Very deliberately and methodically she began to rip them out, casting each one as she did so into the wind and watched as the white pages spun and whirled before sinking gently on to the tips of the white foam and began to float out to sea like a flotilla of toy boats, drifting and bobbing away, until finally just the black leather cover was left.

  She stayed watching the fast-disappearing pages for some time, until there were just a few white dots and she was satisfied that there was nothing to keep her there anymore. Then she turned and made her way back to the rock.