‘Right. Well, thank you very much, Fenella.’
‘My pleasure. Goodbye, Joe.’
Joe put the phone down and sat gazing at it thoughtfully for quite a long time. It was very nice that Rose Sharon had said she liked his work so much she wanted him and him alone to interview her for Life Style, but he didn’t really quite believe it. Well, it might be true, but it seemed likely there might be something else behind it. He couldn’t imagine what though. Maybe when he met her, he could find out. He picked up the phone again and dialled her agent’s number.
‘I’m going to need some more time on this one,’ said Magnus to Richard Beauman. ‘Sorry.’
‘Magnus, you can’t have more time. It’ll go off the boil. You gave me early spring as a delivery date, and as far as I’m concerned that’s when I want it. The sales force are all geed up, the trade are wetting themselves, we’ll look like idiots if we don’t deliver, we’ll lose credibility and, I might say, a fair bit of money. We’ve already invested quite a lot in this one, and –’
‘Oh, come off it, Richard, what money? The promotion hasn’t begun, you haven’t even had to spend any of your extremely expensive time reading anything. The only possible cost has been those roughs of the cover. Which are all terrible.’
‘Thanks,’ said Beauman. ‘Magnus, I’ve put in an enormous amount of groundwork with the trade: dinners, lunches, there’s a preliminary promotional package doing the rounds, we’ve briefed the advertising people, they’ve been working on it –’
‘Balls,’ said Magnus. ‘Absolute balls. Anyway, even if you’d spent millions on it I wouldn’t let you have it. I can’t. I’ve got a whole lot more stuff to follow up and you don’t want to publish some half-arsed load of rubbish, do you? I’m investing quite a lot in it myself, Richard, turned down countless thousands in journalistic projects to write it. Including an interview with our illustrious Prime Minister the other day. Which I’ve been trying to get for ages, I might say. Every time I see a poster that says “Ted Heath talks to the Mail. Exclusive”, I feel quite sick.’
‘My heart bleeds for you,’ said Beauman.
‘So it should. Sorry, Richard, the book’s got to be right, and that’s all there is to it. Apart from anything else, with all this talk of injunctions going on, we need to be one hundred and one per cent certain of every single detail.’
‘So how much longer are we talking?’
‘Let’s say six months,’ said Magnus.
‘Six months! For fuck’s sake, Magnus, I can’t wait six months. I’m going to have to talk to Henry.’
‘OK,’ said Magnus cheerfully.
‘Magnus, this is not entirely professional,’ said Henry Chancellor.
‘It’s very professional,’ said Magnus. ‘The story is getting better by the day. I have more leads to follow up. What would be unprofessional would be to leave any of them unfollowed. I’m sure you’d agree with that, Henry.’
‘I’m not sure that I would. You could go on for ever with a story like this, Magnus. I have every sympathy with Richard. It’s going to leave a huge hole in his summer schedule.’
‘In his cash flow more like it,’ said Magnus. ‘Look, Henry, he’s lucky to be getting this book. I’ve had endless offers for it. Remind him of that, why don’t you? You make enough song and dance about not having an ongoing contract or whatever with anyone. Why not use the fact?’
‘But, Magnus, you did say originally say this autumn for delivery, then the spring. Now you’re saying – what, next autumn? I think Richard Beauman has every right to be worried. I’m worried myself.’
‘Oh, go and play with yourself, Henry,’ said Magnus good-naturedly. ‘What you’re worried about is getting your rake-off from the next tranche of the advance. You’ll get it and much bigger royalties at the end of it if you leave me be. Now get off my back, there’s a good chap. I’ve got work to do.’
‘Chloe, where is Piers?’ said Ludovic. He sounded faintly exasperated. ‘It’s very important.’
‘He’s not here. He’s gone to the States for a few days. Why? What’s happened?’
‘Nothing’s happened, darling, don’t sound so frightened. But Nicholas Marshall needs to get together with Piers as soon as possible, and he says his secretary is being unhelpful to put it mildly. Well, of course that’s what secretaries are paid for: but in this case she’s not really helping him at all. He rang me and asked me if I could get on to him.’
‘Oh. Well, I’m sorry, but he really isn’t here. Can’t it wait?’
‘Not for long. It’s like asking him to work with his hands tied behind his back, or whatever the equivalent of that is for lawyers. Having all his books locked up. But of course if Piers is really away, that’s different. Do you have an address for him, a phone number?’
‘Well, sort of. He’s staying with Herb Leverson in Hollywood. The man who produced the Dream, you know? But he doesn’t like me ringing him there unless it’s terribly important.’
‘This could be called terribly important.’
‘Oh – well, all right. I’ll try to get hold of him.’
She dialled Herb Leverson’s number straight away, before she could lose her courage. A man answered the phone, one of those asexual, transatlantic Hollywood butler voices: No, Mr Leverson was away for a couple of days, and no, Mr Windsor was out of town as well. He was expected back very shortly, maybe next day. Should he have Mr Windsor call her? What name should he say?
‘Say Mrs Windsor,’ said Chloe and slammed the phone down. She was near tears.
She called Ludovic back. ‘He’s not there. Sorry.’
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing,’ said Chloe.
‘Want me to come over?’
‘No. Yes. Oh, Ludovic, I’m so sick and tired of all this.’
‘Put the kettle on,’ said Ludovic, sounding genuinely concerned as well as amused. ‘I’m on my way.’
‘Now then,’ he said, after listening to her for half an hour, and his voice was at the same time gentle and insistent, ‘I think enough is enough. The time has arrived.’
‘For what?’
‘For you and me.’
‘Oh, Ludo, don’t,’ she said. ‘Not now.’
‘Why not now? This is exactly now. Chloe, darling, look at me.’ They were sitting on the sofa in the upstairs drawing room at Montpelier Square; Ludovic was holding one of her hands. ‘What are you hanging on to?’
‘Don’t be silly. My marriage.’
‘Chloe, you don’t have a marriage. You really don’t. Look at you. Distraught, lonely, betrayed.’
‘Don’t be so dramatic, Ludovic,’ said Chloe with an attempt at a smile. ‘I’m perfectly fine.’ And she burst into tears.
Ludovic held out his arms. ‘Come here.’
Chloe moved forward, and crawled into them, lay there for a long time, her tears drenching his shirt.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said finally, looking at the large dark patch she had made, ‘I’m really sorry. I just needed to cry.’
‘You need more than to cry,’ said Ludovic tenderly.
‘Oh really?’ said Choe, smiling at him, aware that she must look appalling, she always did when she cried, her eyes puffy, her nose red, even her mouth distorted in some way.
‘Yes. You need to be loved and cared for and’ – he said kissing her – ‘kissed, and comforted and, well, all kinds of other good things which it would be unseemly to go into now. When you’re so upset. Now dry your eyes, I’m going to go down and get you a nice strong brandy –’
‘I hate brandy,’ said Chloe,
‘All right, strong coffee then. You’re going to have a bath, and do yourself up a bit. Then I’m going to take you out to dinner.’
‘Oh, Ludovic, don’t be silly. I can’t come out to dinner
with you.’
‘Why not?’
‘Someone might see us.’
‘I hope they do.’
‘And anyway, Piers might ring.’
‘I hope he does. I shall tell Rosemary to tell him you’re with me, what’s more. Now, darling Chloe, dry your eyes, and I’ll be back in a minute.’
‘Oh – all right,’ said Chloe, sniffing. It was easier to give in.
‘Now then,’ he said later, much later, as they sat over dinner at the Caprice, and she was smiling into his eyes, happy briefly – and knowing it was briefly made it the sweeter, the more intense, ‘now then, Chloe, we have to make some kind of a commitment.’
‘Ludovic, what are you talking about? What kind of commitment?’
‘To me,’ he said, suddenly serious. ‘I haven’t been joking all these years, Chloe. I saw you that day at that terrible woman’s awful lunch, and I fell in love you, there and then, with your dear little frightened face, and your despairing brown eyes. I looked at you and I thought there she is, just exactly what I want –’
‘Yes, well,’ said Chloe, slightly irritably, ‘I’ve changed a lot since then, I’m not frightened any more although I am still despairing, and besides, I’m tired of being someone sweet and pathetic, I’m a grown-up now, Ludovic, and –’
‘I know, I know,’ he said, reaching out, touching her face gently, ‘you are immensely grown up and sensible and strong, and I just love you all the more for it.’
‘Don’t patronize me,’ she said. ‘I can’t bear it.’
‘I’m not patronizing you. Oh dear, I seem to be making a hash of this. Let me start again. I love you, Chloe, and I want you more than I know how to tell you. And I might point out I’m pretty good at telling people things, I make an impressive living of it. Now, will you please turn if not your back then your side on that miserable non-marriage of yours and do something that you won’t regret for a change?’
‘Which is?’ she said, laughing in spite of herself.
‘Have an affair with me.’
‘Ludovic, I can’t. You must know I can’t.’
‘I know nothing of the kind. What’s your problem, lady? I can show you a good time. Or do you find me totally unattractive?’
‘Ludovic,’ said Chloe, ‘I find you terribly attractive. As you very well know. But I don’t approve of people who have affairs.’
‘Well, I can handle that. I don’t mind being not approved of.’
‘Ludovic, I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about me.’
‘Well, stop talking about you. Stop talking about it altogether. Just do it. Come to bed with me. I promise you you won’t regret it.’
‘But Ludo –’
‘Listen,’ he said, and there was such passion in his voice, such solemnity it startled her; she had only ever known him laughing, light-hearted, teasing. ‘Listen, Chloe, I love you. I love you very much. I’ve watched you, over the years, being brave and loyal and good. I think it’s time you were a bit less good. You deserve it. And anyway,’ he added with a grin, ‘so do I. I’ve been incredibly faithful to you.’
‘Ludovic Ingram, don’t be ridiculous. You’ve had at least three love affairs with perfectly gorgeous creatures since I first met you.’
‘They didn’t mean anything,’ he said, smiling. ‘I was just marking time. Waiting.’
On and on it went, as he cajoled, flattered, reasoned with her, telling her that Piers had no kind of claim on her any more, that he did not deserve her, that he was a monstrously unsatisfactory husband; and she sat smiling, increasingly confused, no longer arguing, wishing, wishing above all things that she could say yes, yes, she would have an affair with him, knowing that almost any other woman in the world in her situation would have done so, and quite unable to admit to him the one overpowering reason that was holding her back: not the children, not Piers, not her marriage, but the bleak, sad fact about herself.
Finally, growing just a little impatient, a trifle weary of the excuses, he said, ‘Now come along, Chloe, what is it really, why won’t you come to bed with me?’
She replied, weary herself, irritated even by his refusal to accept what she said, ‘Ludovic, does there have to be a reason? Beyond the fact that I’m married and I have three children?’
‘Married?’ he said and suddenly there was real rage in the easy voice, dark anger in the smiling eyes. ‘That is not a marriage, Chloe, that is simply another performance Piers is putting on. And moreover, you don’t even have the starring role.’
Chloe, startled by the anger at first, felt a stinging rage of her own: not just that he had verbalized her misery, but that he was right, that it was not a marriage, not such as she had dreamed of, hoped for, worked for, and knew as well that he had finally pierced her, weakened her, and precisely why he had done it.
‘Ludovic,’ she said, standing up suddenly, ‘I want to go home.’
He drove her home in silence, clearly put out, his pride wounded, his ego (which was, his most devout fan would have admitted, monstrous) dented, and didn’t even kiss her goodnight and she went in and lay down on her bed, on the bed where she had been so unhappy with Piers, and cried for a very long time and wondered what on earth was the matter with her, that she was rejecting happiness from a man who was in every way perfect for her: charming, amusing, tender, sensitive, and proclaiming loyalty to another who deserved none of it.
‘You’re mad,’ she said aloud, ‘completely mad,’ and she finally fell asleep fully clothed and woke just before six to hear a banging at the front door.
She went down, feeling terrible, looking terrible she knew; and there on the doorstep, looking wonderful, freshly shaved and smiling, as if he had had at least eight hours’ sleep, was Ludovic, holding an enormous bunch of red roses.
‘I got them from the market,’ he said, bending to kiss her tenderly, ‘and I love you, and I have come to say that I know what the matter is, and I won’t say another word about it, as long as you let me in and give me some coffee.’
She let him in and led him to the kitchen, still confused, made a jug of coffee and set it down at the table, and poured out two mugfuls. He leant over and pushed her heavy hair back and said, ‘You’re so pretty, even when you’ve just got out of bed. Could we go up to the drawing room? I don’t like kitchens.’
‘All right,’ she said, smiling rather feebly, and led him upstairs to the drawing room, and put her mug down and turned to open the curtains and the shutters.
As she reached up she heard him move over behind her, and she tensed, and he said, ‘Leave the curtains, Chloe, we need them closed’ and ‘no’ she said, ‘no, really, Ludovic, I –’ and then she was silent, for his hand slithered down the front of her dress and was fondling, very gently but with extraordinary firmness, at her breast.
‘Beautiful,’ he said, ‘so beautiful. I’ve dreamed of these breasts,’ and she stood there, savouring him, the warmth of his hand, and the pressure of him behind her; then he pushed his hand further down, towards her stomach, and smoothed and stroked her; still she didn’t move; and then his fingers were in her pubic hair, reaching, probing; she tensed, and he said, ‘Don’t. Chloe, don’t be afraid of me.’
She pulled away then, turned and faced him, and the tears began, gently at first, then stronger. ‘You don’t understand,’ she said, ‘you don’t.’
‘I do,’ he said, ‘I do, Chloe, really. Kiss me.’
And she started to kiss him, felt herself become fluid, melting under his mouth; then tense, wary again as his hands moved down over her hips, cupping her buttocks.
‘Darling Chloe,’ he said, ‘I love you.’
He pulled at her dress, pulled it up over her head and she stood there, in her drawing room, feeling faintly absurd, wearing only her pants and he knelt and started kissing her there, and she stood, totally sti
ll and taut, afraid, afraid of him and afraid that at last he would discover her awful sad secret.
‘Come along,’ said Ludovic, and he went over and locked the door; then he removed his clothes, all of them, and she looked at him, a great golden body, his penis jutting out of his red-gold pubic hair, tanned, every inch of him – ‘The boat,’ he said, smiling, interpreting her amused surprise, ‘I always sunbathe naked on the boat’ – and he lay down on the floor, on the white bearskin rug, and said, ‘Come along, I’m going to get cold.’
‘No,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘otherwise I shall shout and pretend to be a burglar and then what will you do?’
Laughing, she sat down on the rug beside him and said finally, confused and afraid, ‘Ludovic, you don’t understand. I – I don’t like it.’
‘Oh, but you will,’ he said, ‘I promise you will. Now take those very elegant pants off and I will tell you exactly what to do.’
Laughing again, she took them off, still half afraid; and he said, ‘Now, understand, exactly what I say, all right?’
‘Yes all right,’ said Chloe, ‘but you have to know, Ludovic, before we go any further, I won’t – I can’t – I’m numb, I –’
And he sat up, and said, ‘Please stop talking,’ and started to kiss her, and his hand was feeling for her, gently, so gently in her bush, and in further, and she sighed and he said, ‘Don’t sigh, it’s going to be wonderful,’ and then he lay down again and said, ‘Come and lie on top of me.’
And she did; just lay there, unthreatened, untroubled somehow; and gradually, without realizing why she was doing it, she spread her legs until she was lying astride him, and very slowly, very slowly, she felt him pushing up against her; and she was afraid again. ‘Easy,’ he said, ‘easy, Chloe, be easy,’ and then he was in her, right in her and she still felt nothing except fear and a dead loneliness.
Then he pushed her very gently upwards, pushed her body up, so that she was sitting there, astride him, his penis sinking deeper and deeper into her, and she felt – what? A softening, a lightening; nothing more. But it gave her courage, and she moved, cautiously, gazing down into his eyes, his careful, watchful eyes; his hands were on her buttocks, moulding them, but otherwise he was quite, quite still. She moved again; she felt, within her, his penis follow. Nothing then: again, and this time, yes, there was a dart, just a faint flickering dart of pleasure.
AN Outrageous Affair Page 64