Not, however, forever.
Chapter Seven
The new house was beautiful. The ground floor consisted of a large living-room with open plan stairs, plus a small kitchen where Lisa could eat but not entertain, while on the first floor there was a vast room with a door concealing two steps up into a tiny room in the roof where Jessica would eventually sleep.
It was carpeted throughout in cream wool with tiny flecks of beige. The beige had then been picked out as the base for all curtaining while the walls were a restful shade of leaf-green, with the exception of the kitchen which was wood-paneled, matching the wood of the folding table and two chairs in the furthest corner of the room.
Despite being small, the kitchen contained everything Lisa could possibly want, from a six-place-setting dishwasher to a microwave oven, which would make preparing Jessica's meals blissfully easy when that time came. A small fridge-freezer just fitted in by the sink, which was complete with waste disposal unit. The rest of the room had fitted cupboards and oven plus a small hob.
For the first few days she didn't really appreciate just how convenient and tasteful the house was because she spent nearly every moment of her time looking after Jessica, but as the baby settled into a reasonable sleep pattern she gradually took more notice of her surroundings.
She was both surprised and a little disappointed when Neal didn't come to see her within the first week. However, he sent a car round each day with some small gift, either for her or Jessica, plus the standard instruction for her to tell the chauffeur if there was anything she needed.
The chauffeurs varied. Most of them were young, unsmiling but highly respectful. The only trouble was they didn't ever want to talk. The exception to this was a cheerful, open-faced young man called Mike. He always had a smile for Lisa, and often consented to a cup of coffee in the kitchen where he would listen to her talking and admire the baby as though there was nothing else in the world he'd rather be doing.
After a week she asked Mike why Neal wasn't coming to see her himself. He stirred the sugar in his cup for an extra long time before giving a wry grin. 'Why do you think?' he queried.
'Is he busy at work?'
'He's always busy at work! Guess again.'
'He's waiting until I'm looking more presentable?' 'Don't fish for compliments! Talking of fishing… ' 'Yes?'
'If you want my honest opinion, he's playing a fisherman's game with you.'
'What on earth's a fisherman's game?'
'He's set out the bait, now he's waiting until he thinks it's been taken.'
She leant against one of the worktops and stared at Mike, unaware of how beautiful she was looking after the peace of the past few weeks and the joy of Jessica. 'You mean this house is bait?'
'That's only my opinion. Mind you, it's expensive bait; hardly your common or garden earth worm!'
'In that case I've already taken it. I am living here.'
'He's playing you very carefully. A clever fish can get away even after it's taken the bait. He doesn't want to take that risk.'
'Aren't you taking rather a risk, telling me all this?'
'Not really. I think you're intelligent enough to know better than to repeat any of it.'
'And trustworthy?'
'Of course—who else can you talk to?'
Her face clouded as she realised how alone she was. 'No one.' 'Hey, I didn't mean to upset you, it was a joke. I like you a lot, that's why I'm talking to you like this. I also assumed you'd already worked most of it out for yourself.'
'How many times has Neal done this before?' 'What?'
'Made women so grateful that they sleep with him.'
Mike laughed. 'He isn't the sort of man who has to make women grateful in order to get them into his bed; they leap in quite willingly. Money and power has that effect on the female sex!'
'He's quite attractive.'
'So am I, and beautifully groomed young women with designer label clothes don't fall over themselves to grace my bed! I'm younger too, so I think it's the money that makes the difference.'
'Do you want elegant women in designer label clothes?'
'Certainly not, I want them out of them! Christ, is that the time? I must go or he'll wonder what we've been doing and I could lose more than my job! How's Miss Pears today?'
'She's all right. I wish she'd look at me with a bit more interest though, she seems far more interested in her mobile than my loving face!'
'You've got enough people interested in your face, I should leave Jessica to her mobile! By the way, I shan't be round for the next few days. I'm off abroad. Should be back by next weekend. I'll bring a giant teddy for Jessica if there's room in my haversack.'
'Where are you going?' 'Amsterdam.'
'Simon used to go there a lot. He was in antiques.'
'He's the reason I'm going. He always did our work for us when he was alive.'
'What work?'
'Just remember how the elephant got its trunk, Mrs Walker! Take care now.'
After he'd gone, Lisa found it hard to settle to anything and wandered listlessly round the cottage. She was physically stronger now and Jessica slept a great deal of the time. No one knew where she was, and without Neal contacting her she felt very isolated indeed, yet for some reason she didn't like to call Sabrina or even Stephanie. Neal hadn't actually forbidden it, but she'd got the impression that she was meant to keep her new address a secret, certainly until her divorce was through.
After lunch she put Jessica in her pram and set off for a walk. She'd only got to the end of the cul-de-sac when she became aware of a very tall, heavily built man walking behind her. She slowed down, her nerve endings beginning to twitch as the memory of Toby and his beatings intruded on her previous calm. To her horror, the man slowed too.
Lisa then stopped, pretending to examine the heel of one shoe. As she did so, she glanced behind her and saw that the young man had stopped as well, apparently to light a cigarette. Her hands were clammy and her heart started beating far too fast. She walked more quickly, almost running as she turned into the main street and headed for the nearest shops. When she finally found a chemist and wheeled the pram in to buy some disposable nappies the man had gone, but when she came out he was on the opposite side of the road reading a newspaper.
Finally, Lisa gave in to her fear and turned back for home. It was only when she re-entered the mews that she lost him. He carried straight on past the end, walking briskly as though heading for some appointment, but she guessed that he was a friend of Toby's and was now so scared that she was grateful for the locks on the windows and the small spy-hole in the front door .
Fortunately Jessica continued to sleep because once she'd finished checking that the house was secure, Lisa sat shaking with terror and weeping silently. Only then, when she truly believed that Toby had found her did she finally ring the number Neal had left in case of emergency.
'Priority Commodities, good afternoon!' said a cheerful voice, not at all what Lisa was expecting.
'I need to speak to Mr Gueras,' she said abruptly.
'I'm sorry, Mr Gueras is in conference. If you leave your name and number I'll pass your message on,' was the unruffled reply.
'I need to speak to him now. He told me that I could always reach him on this number.'
'I'm sorry, Mr Gueras is… '
'I heard you the first time! Would you please tell him that I'm on the line? My name is Mrs Walker.'
'Mr Gueras cannot be disturbed in conference, Mrs Walker. Please leave your number and… '
'Forget it!' she cried as Jessica began to wail, and slammed down the phone. So much for his promise of instant support. She ran into the living room and found Jessica still wailing for no apparent reason. She changed her, offered her a feed, cuddled her and crooned to her but nothing worked. Jessica had decided to use her lungs.
At least the noise might deter any would-be prowler she thought as she tried to ignore the screaming. In sheer desperation she put on a recording of
Von Karajan conducting Aida and turned the volume up. Amazingly, within the space of three minutes, Jessica was silent, lying staring at the ceiling with a look of absolute contentment on her previously enraged features.
Worn out by her fright and soothed by the familiar music, Lisa closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. Her rest was abruptly disturbed by a frenzied hammering on the front door, and she struggled to rouse herself sufficiently to peer through the spy-hole, having first checked that the bolts were in place.
She was totally unprepared for the sight of Neal on the front step, his chauffeur only a couple of paces behind him. Fumbling with all the locks she finally managed to let him in.
'What the hell's been happening?' he demanded, grabbing her by the shoulders. 'First of all you ring me up saying it's an emergency, then you don't answer when I ring back, and now I come round here expecting God knows what disaster and can't make myself heard for that damned row.'
'I didn't hear you ring. I put the music on to drown Jessica's crying and must have fallen asleep.'
'Wonderful! I rush away from a conference and end up ruining your beauty sleep. I deserve to lose that contract. I assume it was Jessica's crying that constituted the emergency?'
'No, it wasn't!' shouted Lisa. 'How dare you come in here like some third-rate bully boy? You told me I could always contact you on the number you left, but I found myself fobbed off by a talking parrot. Then, when I finally manage to pull myself together and get some peace, you start throwing your weight around and complaining about me. Well, go back to your precious contract, and take that chauffeur with you. He gives me the creeps.'
'He isn't a chauffeur. Surely you remember Bishop? '
She did but knew that she'd managed to insult him and took a perverse pleasure in the knowledge. 'Sorry, Bishop. You all look alike in that uniform.'
'He happens to be wearing his own suit, ' said Neal coldly.
'It must be lack of character that turns even a suit into a uniform!' 'Wait outside, Bishop,' said Neal quickly, and Lisa's brief moment of triumph faded at the look of dislike in Bishop's eyes. 'Now then,' he continued, 'perhaps you’d tell me what the emergency was.' And so, eventually, she did.
'It could have been anyone,' he said comfortingly as she wandered into the kitchen to make some tea.
'Why should he have followed me?' 'You're an attractive young woman.'
'It wasn't that kind of following! Why won't you listen to me? I tell you he was checking on where I came from and where I was going. I 'm sure he's a friend of Toby's.'
'He sounds inept enough.'
'I'm sure I'm right, and if Toby knows where I am, what will he do?'
Neal put an arm loosely round her shoulders and was relieved to find that she didn't draw away. 'I've no idea, but I'll send someone round to see him and make sure he stays away, all right?'
'What makes you think he'll listen to you?' 'He will.'
'So you agree I might be right!'
'It's possible. Certainly I can understand your fright.'
He could, and he was also livid with the man who'd caused it. He was there to keep a discreet eye on Lisa and let Neal know where she went and anyone who called. Obviously he wasn't up to the job, but he'd made it doubly difficult for the next man to take over because now she was suspicious.
'How would you like to come out with me next week?' he asked casually. 'I've got to go to a business dinner and I thought you might enjoy the social side of the evening. You're looking much stronger now.'
'How many people will be there?'
'Less than eight; it's a very small group and they're not important people, I just thought… '
'You make it sound like my starter for ten!' she laughed. Neal stared blankly at her. 'I'm sorry?'
'You know, "University Challenge". It's the easy question that gets you in. I thought this dinner sounded like a gentle trial run, to see how I cope before I'm allowed to run amok at something more important!'
He smiled politely but she could tell that he wasn't really amused. 'Not at all. I thought that after the past few months and some of the undesirable publicity you've received, you'd be more comfortable at a small gathering.'
'What undesirable publicity?'
'I kept the papers from you at the time but there were stories about your final fight with Toby, and one or two lurid tales suggesting the kind of life you used to lead. Most of it total rubbish, of course, but… '
She remembered Roger and the photographs. The reason for her marriage, obviously still in existence, and stared at Neal in total silence, all the animation and colour draining from her face. In the living-room the opera came to its conclusion and Jessica began to cry again, but for once her mother didn't notice.
'What's the matter?' Neal quickly moved to her side and put an arm beneath her right elbow as he guided her to the kitchen stool.
'Nothing, I… '
'Is there something I don't know about? Some misguided behaviour on your part? If there is, I want to know about it.'
She shook her head. 'I don't think you do.'
Neal's mind began to race. He thought that he knew everything about the marriage. The drinking, the drugs, the violence—but none of that would account for the almost trance-like look of shock on her face at this moment. 'Lisa,' he said softly, 'I only want to help you. If there's something you want to talk about… '
'There isn't. I never want to talk about it. Is that Jessica crying?'
It wasn't the first time that Neal had silently cursed Lisa's baby, but he managed to nod and followed her to the other room where they both stood looking down at Jessica.
She was still very beautiful and gaining weight rapidly, but whilst she stared intently at the ceiling he was surprised to notice that she took no interest whatsoever in her mother even when she was picked up. Not a very affectionate child, it appeared.
'She's already yelled her head off once today,' said Lisa anxiously. 'Do you think she's sickening for something?'
'No, babies like to cry. It exercises their lungs. Look, I've got to go. I'll call back tonight, although it might be late. About twelve-thirty or so.'
'I'm usually in bed by eleven.'
'Perhaps you could make tonight an exception?'
She gave him a very straight look. 'I suppose I haven't any choice.' 'What do you mean by that?'
'You own the house, and he who pays the piper… '
'Calls the tune? My dear Lisa, I hope you don't think that… ' 'I'm not stupid, Neal. Naturally I'll wait up for you.'
'Because you want to?'
She gave a slight smile. 'You can't have it all ways. I'll stay up. That's what you wanted, isn't it?' 'Yes, but only if… '
'I'll see you later. Do be quiet, Jessica. This isn't like you.'
It was impossible to give Lisa a kiss when she was holding Jessica up against her face so Neal contented himself with a light touch on the shoulder and a warm smile that vanished when he got into the car and slammed the passenger door shut behind him.
'That bloody child is more trouble than her father! I'm going to start hinting at the possibility of a nanny before long.'
'If you really want Mrs Walker to engage a nanny, you'd better start telling her that you're totally opposed to the entire concept. The way her mind works she'll automatically take the opposite view.'
'When I want your advice I'll ask for it!' he snapped, before closing the glass partition between himself and Bishop. He only wished that he knew what she'd remembered when they were in the kitchen because he couldn't afford to leave any loose ends around. By the time she was his, her past had to be snow-white; not because his contemporaries had high moral standards but because his enemies would be delighted should they stumble across anything offering a chance of blackmail. It was vital that whatever she was hiding was brought out into the open as soon as possible.
When he climbed the stairs to his top floor flat in Kensington he was feeling tense and irritable, and for once neither Kay's culinary nor s
exual skills brought him any relief.
When she finally fell asleep he looked at her face and saw the first few wrinkles round the eyes, the creases in the neck, and knew that she was beginning to show her age. Not that he had any particular obsession with youth, on the contrary it was usually callow and unskilled. No, age alone wasn't responsible for his dissatisfaction with his mistress. He no longer wanted her because she wasn't tall, slim, dark and elusive. In other words, she wasn't Lisa.
There had been many Kays over the years. Women in their early thirties with carefully styled blonde hair who were always elegant in their Chanel suits and their Jaeger casuals, and who would probably feel naked without their pearl necklaces and matching earrings. They were all the same. If you closed your eyes they were indistinguishable one from the other. They even talked alike with their crisp vowels and standard expressions of surprise and delight.
It was a pity, he thought, looking down at the blissfully unaware Kay, that he'd suddenly grown out of them. They now bored him almost as much as Naomi. He was sufficiently wealthy and famous to be acceptable everywhere without the help of any of these socialites who'd eased his entry into Henley, Glyndebourne, Wimbledon, shoots and even the Royal Enclosure. Now he was automatically invited in his own right. He'd been both philanthropic and highly reticent about his generosity, so that people accepted him without question.
The result was that he now wanted a woman by his side who would attract attention herself; someone other men wanted. He needed a woman who was different in both looks and personality, and in Lisa he sensed that he'd found her. She was not yet perfect, of course, but he could soon alter her to fit the exact image he had in mind.
Yes, the days of the Kays were over. He was grateful, but that was all. There had never been any question of love or emotional involvement on his side, although naturally he'd pretended that there was, and whilst Lisa aroused a great deal of compassion and protection in him there wasn't any question of love there either.
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