Strange Allure

by Susan Lewis

  Avril said, ‘I’m going upstairs to take a bath.’

  Carla waved her on.

  John was still talking. ‘Avril tells me there’s a party at your local tomorrow night for the programme’s launch,’ he was saying, ‘and, I guess, this is me trying to cadge an invite.’

  Carla took a breath, then held it.

  ‘I know it’s supposed to be a private thing,’ he continued, ‘but I was hoping you might consider me worthy …’

  ‘No. I mean, yes. Of course,’ she blurted. ‘Please come.’ What else could she say? Certainly not what she wanted to say, which was a categoric no. This was her territory, her friends, her family, he had no business here …

  ‘Great,’ he responded. ‘What time?’

  ‘It starts around seven.’

  ‘OK, see you then,’ and he ended the call.

  Grudgingly grateful for his failure to mention that day’s story, she replaced the receiver and wondered how long it would take him to bring it up the following evening. He was almost bound to, considering he was the one who’d been out there, spinning the tall tale on why the programme was being transmitted almost a year later than it should have been. He was probably, and understandably, a bit pissed off that she hadn’t trusted him with the truth from the outset, especially if he’d been bombarded by his own set of calls from the press today, wanting to know what he knew about the rift between Carla Craig and Chrissie Fields. Actually, it hadn’t occurred to her until now that he might be in the firing line too, so instead of going to her computer, which was where she was heading, she went out into the hall and ran upstairs.

  ‘Of course he’ll have been getting calls,’ Avril confirmed, swishing her bathwater to create more bubbles. ‘But don’t worry, I spoke to Lionel on the way here, and we decided that John’s script would be “nothing to do with me, before my time”.’

  Carla was content with that. ‘OK,’ she said, less interested in John Rossmore now than she was in the enormous breasts Avril had just freed from a D-cup bra. ‘What do they feel like?’ she asked, peering at them through the steam that was wafting up from the taps. ‘I mean, do you still have the same, you know, sensation and everything?’

  Avril cupped them with pride. ‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘They’re just firmer in the middle. And bigger, obviously. Actually, they’re probably not as big as yours, it’s just that you’re taller and I’m such a titch, so they look bigger on me.’

  ‘Do men notice the difference?’ Carla wanted to know.

  ‘Depends how familiar they are with implants. Some don’t have a clue.’

  ‘But they still feel like yours?’

  Avril squeezed and rotated them. ‘Yes, they definitely feel like mine,’ she confirmed. ‘Why, are you thinking of getting some?’

  Carla laughed. ‘I’d be more likely to go the other way and have a reduction,’ she answered. ‘Though, come to think of it, Richard was always extremely fond of my boobs.’

  ‘And that’s all that counts,’ Avril responded smoothly.

  Slanting her a look, Carla trotted back down the stairs and with a renewed onslaught of nerves turned on her computer. This time a message was waiting, but it was several minutes before she could pluck up the courage to open it. When she did, it was hard to stop her eyes skimming through it in search of the reassurance she needed, but finally she managed to steel herself and start at the beginning.

  ‘Oh my darling,’ he began, ‘after trying to protect you from the way Chrissie is, to keep her condition a secret from the world, I now find it exposed in the most brutal fashion with you as its cause. But of course it is I who am to blame, not you. Strangely, she seems brighter today, though she hasn’t seen the paper, so has no idea that her failing state of mind is being discussed by all who care to discuss it. I am trying to persuade her to see a doctor, but so far she is resisting me.

  ‘But those are my problems, and shouldn’t be allowed in any way to be a burden to you. I am wondering, now that reality has impinged on us this way, if, for the sake of others, we should cease this beautiful, oh so painful, discourse we have. L’homme est né libre, et partout il est dans les fers. Man was born free, and everywhere he is in chains. Maybe our love is binding you in chains, and I should be strong enough, honourable enough, because I love you, to set you free. Perhaps you are the only part of me that can be free. The rest of me is bound in the prison of my guilt, and only in a future existence can we be allowed to join again as one.’

  Carla didn’t give herself a moment to think, before her fingers hit the keyboard with an impassioned reply. ‘You know we cannot be so easily separated, so I beg you, don’t try. Let’s allow these events to run their course, and know that I am here, enduring your troubles with a strength that is made all the greater by its connection with you. There will be a way through this, we just have to be patient and understand that freedom and chains, guilt and innocence, belong to a relative world, as do our bodies and minds. But our spirits, our souls, will always be one.’

  Avril’s eyes boggled when she read that. ‘Blimey,’ she said, raising a leg from the soapy water to rest it on the edge of the bath, ‘very Jean-Paul Sartre.’

  Carla’s smile was wry.

  ‘Well,’ Avril said, handing back the printouts, ‘you know me, I don’t really buy all this existential stuff, but if it works for you … Hand me a towel, will you? If it works for you, then who am I to say come on Carla, get a life?’

  Carla’s eyes darkened.

  Avril laughed. ‘Now don’t start getting pissy with me,’ she said. ‘I’m having a hard enough time getting my head round all this … Who was the French bloke this time, by the way?’

  ‘Rousseau.’

  ‘Oh, him again. Anyway, I don’t know what you want me to do here. The story’s in the paper, Chrissie’s revealed her colours, and you and Richard are still soaring about in a celestial cuckoo land. Sounds to me like all’s right with your little world.’

  ‘Not quite the way I’d have put it,’ Carla said, with irony.

  ‘I daresay not,’ Avril intoned. ‘Now, go and get us some wine, so we’ve got something to sustain us through the evening as we start planning our new offices and apartments. Oh, just one other thing,’ she said, as Carla started to leave, ‘what did John want?’

  ‘John?’ Carla frowned. ‘Oh, John Rossmore. To come to the party tomorrow.’

  ‘And you said yes.’

  ‘I said yes,’ Carla confirmed.

  ‘Good. Now, summon your earthly presence and trot it along to the wine shop while I dry myself off here.’

  Laughing, Carla went to fetch her coat, and a minute later, hearing the front door close, Avril was on the point of braving the chill air of the landing to go and get her clothes, when she suddenly stopped and turned to look over her shoulder.

  It was the weirdest thing, but she could have sworn she’d just heard someone sigh. Her heartbeat quickened, and her skin started to prickle. Never, in all the years she’d been coming here, had she felt scared in this house, nor had she ever sensed any kind of presence beyond those she could see. She wasn’t sure she sensed anything now, but she was damned sure she’d heard that sigh, and apart from her there was no-one else there to heave it.

  In the end, deciding to put it down to the plumbing, she opened the bathroom door and almost fell over Eddie who was lying on the floor right outside.

  ‘Oh, it was you!’ she laughed, stooping to tousle him. ‘You gave me the fright of my life.’

  Never one to refuse attention, Eddie rolled on to his back and crooked his paws either side of his face.

  ‘Let me get dressed first,’ Avril told him, starting to shiver, and pulling the towel more tightly around her she hurried into the warmth of the guest bedroom, where she unpacked the Vuitton holdall she’d brought with her, dressed quickly, then opened the wardrobe to hang up the rest of her clothes. To her surprise, the memory boxes that took up most of the space were in some disarray, though she quickly realized, as
she started tidying them, that it was only Valerie’s thesis that was creating the mess. Careful to make sure it was all there, she gathered it up and slipped it back into the envelope. She gave a fleeting thought to the letter Carla had found rucked in the bottom, and wondered if she’d ever found the rest of it. Avril imagined not, or she’d have mentioned it, and since it was most likely that Richard had it, there wasn’t much chance they’d ever get to know what it had said.

  A few minutes later she found herself recalling Richard’s mysterious visit to the cottage while she and Carla had been in Monaco, as though there might be some connection between that and the thesis being out of its envelope. But surely not, for why on earth would he be looking for the missing page to a letter that had been written well over a year ago, and whose contents had been rendered benign almost as soon as they were penned? So no, she was just putting two and two together and coming up with intrigue for intrigue’s sake here, which was what happened to a person after they’d been in Hollywood for a while. However, she didn’t trust Richard, and wasn’t at all impressed by the fact that he’d never actually admitted to receiving the letter. Or indeed to being at the cottage. It was weird, that, the way he was proving so reticent about details that, on the surface at least, didn’t seem to matter much. There was obviously a reason for it, which was why, at some point, she was going to make Carla sit down and discuss what was happening, if for no other reason than to be sure that Carla was aware that something wasn’t right. However, after the nasty shock Carla had been dealt today, now probably wouldn’t be a good time. So, closing the wardrobe door, Avril turned the key and went down to the kitchen where Carla was searching out the corkscrew while speaking to her brother on the phone.

  *

  ‘OK, fairy godmother,’ Carla said to Avril the following evening, ‘you’ve organized the ball, so how about changing Eddie into a nice new dress for the night?’

  Laughing, Avril said, ‘You should have thought about that a week ago, because that’s how long it takes to kick-start my wand.’

  Carla looked down at Eddie, who was gazing raptly up at her. ‘Even you’ve got something new to wear to the party,’ she said, straightening up the smart black bow tie Sonya’s kids had given him earlier. Then, wafting back into her bedroom, she opened the wardrobe again and, grimacing, pulled out the trusty black cashmere dress that she’d bought at huge expense some three years ago, and laid it out on the bed. It would have to do, and she could always liven it up with the diamond pendant Richard had once surprised her with on one of his own birthdays. She couldn’t help wishing he could be there tonight, though he’d sent a message earlier assuring her that in spirit he would be, and that she should spare him many thoughts throughout the evening, and speak to him in her mind, so that he could speak back to her and share it all with her. He’d sent two messages today, and hadn’t mentioned Chrissie or the newspaper article in either. She knew why: he didn’t want anything to spoil this special time for her – but how wrong it all seemed to be doing it without him, in fact without either of them.

  Going over to the dressing table, she sat down to continue her make-up. Considering the significance of tonight’s party, she was surprisingly calm, though she didn’t mind admitting that she’d be glad when the programme was transmitted, the reviews published, and that spiteful attack in yesterday’s paper well on its way to history. It was hard coming to terms with the fact that she was in the paper at all, never mind being referred to as ‘Craig’, as though ‘Craig’ were some kind of unmentionable disease, or a hard-nosed killer on the run from a life sentence. And having so many lies and injustices printed about her was so horrible and enraging that she could hardly get them out of her mind.

  However, for this evening, at least, she had to try, since her neighbours had gone to a lot of trouble to make this party special, which Faith had been at pains to let her know when she’d delivered the post that morning.

  ‘… and course, we all knows that was just a load of ol’ rubbish in the paper about you, yesterday,’ she’d assured Carla. ‘And that’s why we all wants to make tonight a real good do for you, to make up for it, like. Everyone’s going to be there, and we got a couple of surprises which I’m not going tell you about, or it’ll spoil ’em.’

  There was a good chance, had Avril not virtually lassoed her off down the garden path at that point, that Faith’s secrets would have burst their seams, but for the moment they remained securely stitched in.

  Now, as Carla dusted a tawny blusher lightly on to her cheeks, she realized how easily she could become emotional over all the kindness that had gone into this evening. None of them had been a part of making the programme, didn’t even really know what it took to get one on the air, but because it mattered to her, it mattered to them too, and she could only feel glad that she’d decided to share its official launch with them.

  By ten to seven she was downstairs, settling back the fire and getting her big winter coat from the hall cupboard. Which reminded her, Sonya had looked in here for Richard’s letters and hadn’t found them. So she’d look herself tomorrow. Failing that, they had to be in storage, which she’d find out soon enough, since everything was due to be delivered to the Belgravia ménage, as Avril was calling it, at the end of the week. Just thinking about that caused Carla’s heart to judder, for having committed to it, she now had to pay for it, and if tonight’s programme wasn’t well received …

  ‘Are you going to get that?’ Avril shouted, as someone banged on the front door.

  By the time Carla got there Avril was already halfway down the stairs.

  ‘Mesdemoiselles,’ John Rossmore declared with a swooping bow, when Carla opened the door. ‘Your carriage awaits.’

  Slightly thrown, Carla looked back at Avril.

  ‘Well, for God’s sake let him in,’ Avril cried. ‘Can’t you see it’s raining?’

  ‘Sorry,’ Carla said, standing back to make room.

  Avril swept up behind her, then laughed delightedly as John scooped her up to his height to kiss her.

  ‘You look magnificent,’ he told her.

  Which was certainly one way of describing it, Carla thought wryly, though exactly what her neighbours would make of Avril’s totally transparent black net dress, with its few lavishly embroidered red roses covering her modesty … Well, it was going to be interesting to find out.

  ‘And so do you,’ John said, turning his smile on Carla.

  ‘Thank you,’ she replied, and turned to Avril in order to escape the humorous warmth of his eyes, as well as his oppressive proximity in the dark, cramped hallway.

  ‘I thought,’ he explained, looking at Avril too, ‘that as it was raining, I’d come and get you.’

  ‘Does that mean you’ve already been to the pub?’ Avril said, wrapping herself in a blood-red pashmina.

  ‘And met half the village,’ he confirmed. ‘Lionel’s here too, I hope that’s OK.’

  ‘Of course,’ Avril assured him. ‘But I’ll tell you what, you can take Carla on ahead and come back for me. Or send Lionel. I need to call my office,’ she explained, when Carla glared at her.

  ‘I’ll get my coat,’ Carla said shortly.

  Avril watched her disappear into the sitting room, then winked at John. ‘She wants to be a producer when she grows up,’ she said.

  John was stooping to greet Eddie, who was staring at him from the bottom of the stairs. ‘Well, look at you,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know this was a black-tie affair.’

  Eddie wagged his tail, then rolled onto his back and put his legs in the air.

  ‘Funny, that’s what I always feel like doing when you talk to me,’ Avril remarked.

  Carla was back. ‘Maybe I should take an umbrella and walk,’ she said to John. ‘You won’t want Eddie messing up your car.’

  ‘I’ve got a better idea,’ Avril said. ‘Why don’t you let John drive your car, because nothing can make that old heap any worse than it already is.’

  Carla blushed, and tr
ied not to notice the amusement in John Rossmore’s eyes.

  ‘Sounds like a plan to me,’ he said. ‘But my car’s a Range Rover, so we can always put Eddie in the back.’

  ‘He likes to sit with me,’ Carla retorted.

  ‘Then he can sit with you.’

  Avril had to stop herself screaming. ‘I don’t believe how long this is taking,’ she cried. ‘Just get in a damned car, will you, and I’ll meet you there.’

  Five minutes later Carla arrived at the pub in John’s Range Rover, with Eddie sitting at her feet in the foot well.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, as John held an umbrella over the door to cover her while she got out. She wished she could be friendlier, but she was too angry at being forced to turn up here with him, as though he was her partner, to be able to put any warmth into her voice.

  He said nothing, merely walked beside her as they dodged round the puddles in the car park to get to the pub. Then, as he opened the door for her to go in ahead of him, a rousing cheer of welcome finally brought a smile to her face. As she was pulled into the crowd she soon forgot about John Rossmore, who, Avril told her later, had had the good grace to turn up early so that her friends and neighbours could meet the celebrity guest before Carla’s arrival. That way, Carla’s big entrance would in no way be upstaged by the idiocy, as he put it, of his fame.

  ‘Bring her over here,’ Sylvia was calling from behind the bar. ‘That’s it. Right over here. We’ve got the champagne all set out. What are you going to have, our Carla? A Buck’s Fizz or a coupe, as they d’call it in France? That, for you peasants, means straight bubbly.’

  ‘Either,’ Carla laughed, gazing round at all the decorations and blinking lights. ‘Just look at all this!’ she cried in delight. ‘It’s amazing. I had no idea you were going to all this trouble.’

  ‘We made the banner!’ her niece and nephew shouted, jumping up and down in excitement.

  ‘Hey, I didn’t see you two there,’ Carla gushed, sweeping them into her arms. ‘And you made the banner. The one that says There and Beyond?’