Fantasy Woman

by Annabel Murray

  'His first wife?' Gina said carefully.

  Marcha laughed complacently.

  'A bit premature of me, a slip of the tongue. It's not generally known, but Tod and I will be getting married. Probably when this film is in the can.'

  'I see,' Gina said, and she thought she did. Her former conclusions had been totally wrong. The barrier between her and Tod had not been the shadow of Maria Mantalini, but that of Marcha. No wonder Tod had gone too far at times; he'd been using her as a substitute for Marcha in more ways than one. What would Marcha think if she knew that, she reflected bitterly. But Gina would never stoop to tell her, whereas, if the positions had been reversed ...

  'You haven't eaten your lunch,' Marcha pointed out now.

  'No ... no, I haven't.' She pushed it away from her. 'Still it's just as well. I'm swimming this afternoon with Tod. It isn't wise to swim on a full stomach.'

  'Oh I don't think you will be. Because I'm back a day earlier than he expected, Tod wants to run through the script with me. We play lovers in the film. Very appropriate, isn't it?' Marcha was smugly self-satisfied.

  'Very appropriate!' Gina said drily, wondering if she had imagined the innuendo. Just how thoroughly would Tod and Marcha be following the script that afternoon? By all accounts they had been apart for a while. 'Since I seem to have some free time,' she continued, 'I think I'll make the most of it. Excuse me.'

  She had reached the dining-room door, when Marcha recalled her, her tone acidly sweet.

  'I suppose you didn't by any chance think you'd be playing this part?'

  Gina's cheeks scorched.

  'I see that you did!' Marcha wasn't speaking so sweetly now. 'But then dear Tod can be just a little unscrupulous in obtaining his ends. I shouldn't set your heart on any kind of part if I were you. Not after I've spoken to him.'

  After her hectic morning, Gina had thought longingly of a restful afternoon. But now her wish was granted the empty hours no longer seemed desirable. Her mind was in a turmoil, varying emotions fighting to gain the upper hand. There was disappointment, downright chagrin in fact, that she was not to play the female agent in Tod's film. There was annoyance that Tod had not put her fully in the picture. Had he deliberately misled her, as Marcha had insinuated, or had it never occurred to him that she might make the wrong assumption? She wasn't really afraid, however, that Tod would dismiss her. By all accounts he'd known of Marcha's unwillingness to have her cousin as her stand-in, but he'd still gone ahead and hired her and she didn't think Tod was a man to see all his weeks of training go for nothing.

  Uppermost was a dragging depression. Tod was going to marry Marcha. Despite the physical attraction that had flared between them, Gina stood no chance with him. The chemistry that she'd hoped might develop into something deeper was just that, chemistry. Tod loved Marcha. But Gina knew her cousin wasn't worthy of his love. Totally selfish, Marcha was incapable of making him happy. If only he knew about ... But she could never be the one to tell him.

  In this frame of mind, Gina knew she would never be able to rest and, on a sudden impulse, she turned aside to knock at the nursery door. It opened a fraction to reveal the anxious face of Sally, the nursemaid. But when she saw Gina, she opened the door fully, smiling her relief.

  'It's you, miss. I'm always afraid ...'

  'That it might be kidnappers?' Gina followed the girl into the room. 'Were you working for Mr Fallon then?'

  'When the second attempt was made, yes, miss. It was horrible. One man had a gun, and another had one of those horrible flick knives.'

  'Where was this?'

  'Out in the grounds, miss. I was walking Melanie in her baby buggy. She was smaller then, and it was before Mr Fallon had all those electric fences put round the walls.'

  'What happened?'

  'Luckily both Greg and Andy were around that day. They managed to disarm the men and throw them out, but it was a near thing.' The girl shuddered.

  'Can I see Melanie?' Gina asked, glancing towards the closed door of an inner bedroom.

  'Do you really want to be bothered, miss? You look rather tired if you don't mind me saying so. Melanie can be a real handful, very demanding.'

  Gina smiled wryly. Melanie Fallon must have a lot of her father in her make up.

  'Frankly, I'd welcome some sort of diversion,' she confessed. 'I'm a bit fed up right at this moment.'

  'So's Melanie. That's why she's acting up. Ever since she heard that she was back,'

  Gina didn't need to ask whom. That was obvious, since her encounter with Marcha.

  The child was sitting in a window seat, looking down broodingly into the grounds. Here in the bedroom, as in the nursery, was every plaything a child might want; a rich man's child, yet the little figure was a pathetic one. She turned and, at the sight of Gina, her olive-complexioned face brightened and she beckoned imperiously.

  'Come and sit here with me. I didn't think you'd ever come. No one else bothers, except Greg and Andy.'

  'What about your father?' Gina tried to hide her disapproval. Didn't he ever make time to play with his small daughter?

  'Sometimes,' Melanie admitted, 'but quite often he's too busy and when she's here, I don't want him to come, because she comes with him.'

  Of course, as Tod's future wife, Marcha would need to get acquainted with his daughter. Gina frowned slightly. It was out of character. Normally Marcha had no time for children. In fact she had always claimed to detest them.

  'Well, I'm not busy this afternoon,' she said in a deliberately cheerful tone. 'I'll play with you if you like. What shall we do?'

  'What I'd really like,' Melanie said wistfully, 'is to go down there.' She pointed out into the grounds. 'Greg says the gardener's cat has kittens. Sally, do you think Daddy would let me have one, for my very own? It would be somebody to play with.'

  Gina looked at Sally, her face expressing all that she felt for the child's pathetic state of loneliness, and saw her sympathy reflected in the nursemaid's face.

  'We'll ask him about the kitten,' Sally promised, 'but you know you're not allowed outside unless Greg or Andy goes with us.'

  'Oh, well!' The child was philosophical for one so young; Gina would have expected tantrums. 'At least I've got you! What's your name?' Gina told her. 'I like that. It sounds Italian. I'm half-Italian,' she bragged as she slid from the window seat. 'Did you know that, and that my wicked grandpa wants to steal me?'

  So Melanie knew that. Fancy allowing her to be troubled by such fears; how could she ever have a normal childhood?

  'Don't worry,' Gina said comfortingly. 'Your daddy would never let that happen.'

  'Oh, I wouldn't mind,' the child said surprisingly. 'I could go to Italy and meet all my relations. Then I'd have plenty of people to play with. I'd rather live with my grandpa, anyway, if Daddy's going to marry her.'

  'You really will have to stop calling Miss Durrant that!' Sally remonstrated. 'When she's your stepmother…'

  'I shan't call her Mummy or Aunt Marcha!' Melanie stamped one small foot. 'She's not my mummy or my aunt and she'll be a wicked stepmother, I know she will, much more wicked than my grandpa!' The childish lips set mulishly, but they had a tendency to tremble. Observing this Gina put an arm around the child's shoulders.

  'I'm sure your daddy won't let anyone be unkind to you and we're not going to worry about it just now. You never know, he might not get married.' She was telling herself that as well as the child. The only trouble was that, whereas Melanie's face brightened, Gina could not believe so easily' in her own optimism. 'Look, I can see Greg down there. Let's knock on the window and ask him up. Perhaps he'll take us to see the kittens.'

  Greg's delight was all too evident and Gina had an uncomfortable suspicion that most of his pleasure was derived from the prospect of her company.

  'You haven't forgotten we have a date tonight?' he asked.

  'I haven't forgotten,' Gina said, aware of Melanie's interested stare.

  The cat and her kittens were housed in an u
nused wing of the stable block. Already the kittens were mischievous, ready to leave their mother. There were six of them in assorted colours.

  'I shall have the black one,' Melanie announced.

  The black kitten was a pathetic scrap, the smallest of the litter. It was not as boisterous as its brothers and sisters and Gina doubted whether it would thrive.

  'Wouldn't you rather have one of the livelier, healthier ones?' she asked. 'What about the pretty little ginger one?'

  But Melanie was stubborn, another trait which seemed to be inherited equally from mother and father, Gina reflected.

  'No. This one's like me. He's lonely. The others don't play with him. I want him.'

  She sat in the straw with the kitten in her lap, quite content to watch as the naughtier, more inquisitive ones climbed all over Gina, sticking like burrs to her slacks and sweater, licking her with tiny sandpaper tongues.

  They were, all three of them, Melanie, Greg and Gina, still sprawled in the straw, and Greg was attempting to remove a stubborn kitten from the front of Gina's sweater, when Todd looked over the half door. They were all making so much noise with their talk and laughter that they hadn't heard his light tread, and Tod was able to stand, unobserved, for some minutes, his dark eyes unconsciously wistful at first as they surveyed the warm, attractive, almost domestic scene. His daughter, more dishevelled and grubby than he had ever seen her, yet also, somehow, happier, was clutching a kitten, while innumerable others seemed to be using Greg and Gina as an assault course.

  Dishevelment suited Gina, he brooded. Her cheeks and eyes glowed with laughter. An emerald green sweater clung lovingly to her generous breasts and as Greg attempted to remove the kitten, his hand accidentally brushed against her lovely curves. Instantly, Tod felt within himself the stir of the other man's reaction, as he saw how Greg, his eyes involuntarily widening, movement arrested, looked at Gina.

  She was not unaware either, he noticed. Her flushed face was in profile to Tod as she lifted her eyes to Greg's, and he saw her bite on her lip, a troubled little gesture. But then she was smiling again, pushing the other man's hands away.

  'Better let me do that.'

  'Gina!' Greg's husky voice carried to Tod's alert ears and his hands clenched at his sides. And, as Greg leant forward, his mouth seeking Gina's parted lips, Tod erupted into the loose-box.

  'So there you are, Gina! I thought I made it quite clear that I wanted you down at the pool this afternoon. And after searching everywhere for you, what do I find? You, fraternising with one of my men; a man, furthermore,' he glared at Greg, 'who's supposed to be on duty; and I find my daughter, looking like a gutter brat.'

  In one swift movement, he scooped Melanie from the straw, the kitten tumbling away. He thrust his daughter at Greg.

  'Here! Get her back to the nursery. I'll talk to you and Sally later. As for you.. .' as Gina made to slip past him, 'I'll deal with you here and now.'

  Greg's pleasant, rugged face was red with mingled guilt and embarrassment, but Melanie proved more recalcitrant. She set up a heartbroken wailing.

  'You've hurt my kitty. I want my kitty. Gina said I could have him.'

  'I ...' Gina began, then faltered into silence as she met Tod's glare.

  'Be quiet, Melanie!' he roared. 'You're not having the damned thing. It's probably full of fleas. Greg, tell Sally that child's to have a bath immediately and her hair washed.'

  'OK, Mr Fallon.' Greg paused in the doorway, his muscular arms easily restraining the threshing child. 'See you about seven then, Gina.'

  'I'm looking forward to it!' she told him with deliberate enthusiasm.

  Melanie's screams diminished into sobbing, and, as Greg departed with the child, there was silence in the stable, an ominous silence, broken only by the sound of breathing, Tod's deep and heavy with recent anger, Gina's fast and light with apprehension and indignation. Rather than wait for the predictable attack, she plunged into the offensive.

  'You callous brute! There's nothing I hate worse than a man who's cruel to children and animals. Melanie was happy, really happy…'

  'So was Greg, I noticed,' Tod snarled.

  So that was what was eating him, because she'd defied his policy of non-fraternisation.

  'We were all happy,' she retorted, 'until you came along.'

  'I spend a fortune on two men's salaries just to see that my daughter comes to no harm and you ...'

  'She wasn't in any danger!' Gina snapped. 'Greg was here .. .'

  'With his mind on other things.' The ginger kitten was still adhering to Gina's sweater and almost absently he reached out to pluck it away, but she retreated.

  'Leave it alone and leave me alone.'

  'I didn't hear you protesting so violently when Greg tried to come to your assistance.'

  'No! Because he's my friend. You're only my employer and he hasn't tried to deceive me ...'

  'And I have?' Tod's heavy brows rose enquiringly.

  'You know damned well you have! Oh, you were very clever. Yon never actually put it into words, but you must have known what I thought.'

  'No,' sardonically, 'please enlighten me.'

  'You didn't tell me I was just a stand in for Marcha Durrant, that I was to take all the risks, while she takes all the glory.'

  'What touching family feeling. Marcha is your cousin.'

  'Very distant, not distant enough for me.'

  'Do I detect a note of female jealousy?'

  'No, you do not! I wouldn't change places with Marcha if it meant my name in lights in Hollywood. She hasn't got a thing I want.' Except you, her heart mourned, but she kept her features strictly schooled.

  'Yet you wouldn't have objected to her part in my film.' He had her there.

  'I assumed, you led me to believe, it was my part.'

  'Not at all,' he denied coolly. 'The subject was never discussed. I said nothing which could lead you to suppose anything so ridiculous. You play the lead in a major production? What acting experience have you had?'

  It was an unanswerable question. He knew she had none. But she had a question for him.

  'Why did you hire me when you knew Marcha objected so strongly? And now that she's back, do I get the sack?'

  'Not at all,' he said calmly. 'Marcha is many things in my life, but she doesn't tell me how to make my films. And to return to the whole point of this conversation, why weren't you at the pool this afternoon?'

  'Because,' she said witheringly, 'you were to be otherwise engaged.'

  'Who said so?' he asked sharply.

  'Marcha, of course.'

  A look of palpable disbelief crossed his face.

  'You've made it pretty clear that you've no natural affection for your cousin. Well, she told me you were a pretty cold fish. But don't you think it's rather despicable to lie about her, to blame her for your rebellious defiance?'

  Gina opened her mouth, then closed it again. What was the use, she thought wearily. It was her word against Marcha's and it was pretty obvious who Tod was going to believe. But why had Marcha told Tod she, Gina, was cold? What was her cousin up to?

  'Can I go now?' she asked.

  'No! I haven't finished with you yet. I warned you, Gina, to stay away from the men in this outfit. Stay away from Greg Gibson! I want his mind on his job, not on your body ...' a husky note crept into his voice, 'delectable though it may be. And since you obviously have no sense of responsibility, stay away from my daughter as well.'

  Swift as a lance, the answer came back.

  'Is that why you stay away from her? Because you don't have any responsibility towards her, other than as a provider of expensive, useless toys, as a gaoler. What about being a natural father for once, noticing that a child needs affection, company of her own age, or, failing that, a pet to love? Something warm, something living, that she can call her own.'

  'Ah!' He scowled. 'I wondered when we'd get around to the cat, mangy, flea-ridden . ..'

  'It is not mangy. Flea-ridden it may be, but fleas can be de
alt with and Melanie loves it. Look at it, go on, look at it.' She picked up the black kitten and thrust it under his nose. Take notice for once of something lovable, something that doesn't mean money.'

  His eyes flickered briefly over the kitten, then returned to her flushed, angry face, dropped to the tumultuous heaving of her breasts.

  'I'd rather look at you,' he said softly, 'but then you know that, don't you? Did I say you couldn't act? I'm beginning to wonder!' Suddenly his hands erupted from his sides, clamped her upper arms and he shook her as he spoke. 'Dammit, Gina! Just how devious are you? Do you know, I wonder, just how effective your anger is, how magnificent it makes you look? I think you do. Can you assume it at will?'

  'Anger? You think my anger's assumed?' she spat at him. 'Don't be so damned patronising. I don't need to pretend with you. You make me bloody, seething furious, with your arrogance, your high-handed ways, your inhumanity! And you had the neck to call me cold. You're Mr Iceberg himself.'

  Suddenly the atmosphere about them was charged with an electricity that was not only that of anger, and other tempestuous emotions made Gina tremble. But this time she was determined she would not be disarmed, become putty in his hands. Boldly, she continued to outface him.

  'Let go of me! I'm Marcha's stand-in, remember? She's back now, so you don't need a substitute, you can go and sate your sexual appetites on her!'

  'While you do likewise with Greg, I suppose?' he snarled. 'Oh, I noticed your reference to a date, made in flagrant defiance of my orders.'

  Once she would have denied vehemently that there was anything between herself and Greg other than mutual liking, but she knew that on Greg's side there was more and, besides, she felt annoyed, contrary.

  'As I told you before, who I date is my business. And since we're on the subject of free time, I want a whole day off next week.'

  'For what purpose?' he snapped.

  'To go and see someone I usually visit regularly. I haven't been able to go since I've been here.'

  'Another boyfriend?'

  'You could say that.' After all, Rusty certainly wasn't female.

  'Greg not enough for you?' he taunted. 'And you talk about my sexual appetites! And if I refuse permission?'