Rachel Lindsay - An Affair To Forget

by Rachel Lindsay

  "Why don't you come here more often?"

  "I mightn't be able to keep it a secret then. And once the crowd found out about it, they'd want to bring their birds here.." His eyes twinkled. "I love it when you blush. You're so different from the other girls I've known. I can't believe you've actually lived in the same century as me."

  "Same century but a different place,' she quipped. "The show business world is not the whole world."

  "Don't I know it! I'm learning a lot of things from you, Val. I never thought I would, but_____ " He rose and stretched his arms above his head. "I'm beginning to feel a bit cramped. Let's go on deck."

  She followed him up the companionway and they stood at the rail and looked out over the river at the trees dipping their foliage into the water on the far bank.

  "It's so peaceful," she murmured. "This is the sort of life I like."

  "It's the sort of life you should have. I can't—"

  He stopped abruptly and she looked at him. "What are you trying to tell me, Nicky? That you're sorry you asked me to marry you?"

  "Of course not. What a crazy thing to say."

  "Then stop worrying about my not fitting into your world. It may be hard for me, but it would be much harder for me to live without you."

  "I wish you loved me a little less."

  "What a thing to say!"

  "I'm sorry, Val." He rubbed his cheek against hers. "What I really mean is that I don't want to be possessed."

  "Possess is the wrong word," she said quietly. "What you mean is that you want to love me and go on living your own life."

  "You're very clever for an innocent girl, aren't you?" he said, his voice so low that she could barely hear what he was saying. "But there's no point my pretending I'm an ordinary sort of man. I'm a pop star, and pop stars are a race apart. While we're at the top of the charts everyone grovels around us, but the moment we start slipping, our adoring public will grind our faces in the dust."

  "Don't say such a thing."

  "It's true."

  "It isn't—not for you. You're more than a pop star. You're a composer, Nicky. You write wonderful songs. If you never sang again you'd still be famous for the music and lyrics that you write."

  "You really believe in me, don't you?" He gathered her into his arms. "You've built up a special image of me and you refuse to see me any other way."

  "I see you as you are—as you could be."

  "Don't give me any of this 'could be' stuff. Take me as I am, Val."

  "I do," she said huskily, turning up her face to his. "I will."

  For an answer he placed his mouth on hers, kissing her with an intensity that left her breathless. Yet there was another emotion underlying his lovemaking: a tenderness she had not felt before: a need, a longing, a fear.

  Later, as they sat together in the cabin, he spoke of his past, telling her much more than he had previously done. She learned that his parents had died when he was six and that he had been brought up by an aunt and uncle.

  "Not because they had any affection for me," he said, "but because they considered it their Christian duty. They never stopped telling me how lucky I was not to have been sent to an orphanage." He gave a bitter laugh. "I think I'd have been better off if I had."

  "Were you so unhappy?" she asked softly.

  "Unhappy?" He pondered on the word. "I guess I was, although as a child I never realized it. You see, I had enough to eat and decent clothes to wear, but what I didn't have were the things that children need— things like laughter and affection—like knowing you're wanted."

  "At least you'll know what to give your own children," she said huskily.

  "My own kids?" He looked astonished. "I've never thought about having any. I'm not sure I want them."

  Words rushed to her lips but she held them back, sensing that now was not the time to discuss it further. She had to know more about Nicky's life—about his hopes and dreams, his sorrows and fears.

  "What happened when you left school?" she asked.

  "I ran away and got a job with a band. My aunt and uncle told me never to see them again and______ " He paused. "I never have. Lord, when I think of the years of grind before I got to the top! I played one- night stands in every part of the country and then I toured the Continent, going from one sleazy dive to another. I was on the verge of chucking it in when Bob spotted me. From then on I never looked back."

  "You owe him a lot, don't you?"

  "No more than he owes me. When we met, I was a small-time singer and he was a small-time promoter. We both made each other. Bob regards me as a meal ticket—nothing more than that. And I prefer it that way."

  Valerie said nothing. She was deeply moved by all Nicky had told her and saw beneath the brave words to the lonely little boy he had been.

  But she dare not voice her thoughts: he was not ready yet. Later, when he had grown to accept her love, when he was more at peace with himself, she would be able to tell him.

  She caught his hand and pressed it to her lips. "I'm glad you told me about yourself, Nicky. One day I hope you'll realize that not all families are the same."

  "I don't intend to find out," he retorted. "I'm not a family man."

  "When you marry me I'll be your family."

  "For as long as I'm a success."

  "Naturally," she said demurely. "I'll spend all your money and then leave you when you're an old has- been!"

  With a groan he buried his face in her hair, his hands tugging at the silky mass. "You're so honest," he whispered. "So transparent and sweet."

  His lips roved along the slender column of her throat then explored the hollows of her neck. But they did not stop there long, drawn quickly—as she knew they would be—to the tantalizing curve of her breasts. Skilfully he removed her dress and brassiere and began to massage her breasts, arousing her to such a fever pitch of desire that she pulled him completely on top of her.

  "Nicky," she gasped. "Oh darling."

  "Let me," he panted. "I can't stop. I—" He gave a heaving, convulsive shudder and was then motionless.

  Afraid to disturb him she lay still. Although she did not touch him she knew that his skin was wet. Gradually his breathing slowed down, then he drew away from her, straightened up and went instantly to the bathroom. Shakily she put on her clothes. She was still trembling with emotion which, unsatisfied, bubbled inside like a hot spring, and she pushed open the porthole and drew several deep breaths. She was shattered at how close she had come to total surrender, and knew that only Nicky's own control had stopped it from happening. Love for him coursed through her like a mercury through a hot tube, and she put her hands to her face. Behind her the door opened, and she half turned and saw Nicky. He was pale and subdued, his expression impossible to define.

  "I want to th-thank you," she said haltingly. "If you hadn't stopped I'd have… have… and then I'd have regretted it. You were very understanding and I love you so much for it."

  "Don't!" he said sharply. "You've got it wrong. I didn't stop because I was such a saint but because I lost control too soon. Damn it, Val, are you so innocent that you don't know what happened?"

  "I___ " She could not go on and her silence seemed to infuriate him.

  "Until now I've never had to control myself with a girl. They've been only too willing to give me what I want. But with you I had to hold back all the time. And I wasn't used to it. So when I finally had a chance of taking you, I made a fool of myself!"

  Unable to face him, she turned back to the porthole. If anyone was a fool, it was she. A blind, stupid fool. What she had seen as a mark of respect, Nicky had shown to be his lack of control. She waited for her anger to increase, but unaccountably the humor of the situation began to impinge on her, blunting her hurt and enabling her to see the situation with less involvement and therefore more clarity.

  "You are a fool, Nicky Barratt. You just threw away your only chance of making me think you respected me. Aren't you sorry?"

  "Nq. Because I do respect you—
too much to kid you that I'm such an angel." He came to stand behind her. "I wanted you very much—I still do—but I'm not going to try any more. A few kisses, maybe, but no heavy petting. Next time I wouldn't lose my control, Val. So it's better if we keep it cool. I know you want to wait until you're married and I…I_________ Do you understand me, Val?"

  "Yes, my darling, I do."

  She leaned against him and his hands stole around her waist, moving up and then dropping back. "I've never felt this about a girl before," he muttered. "I can't figure it out."

  "It's love," she said huskily. "You're so new to it, you haven't recognized it."

  "Love," he repeated, half to himself. "Funny. I

  never___ " The rest of his words were lost as he swung her around and found her mouth.

  It was dark when they returned to Bayswater, and parking outside the house, he suggested she did not come to see his second charity show, but meet him afterward.

  "But I love to watch you," she protested. "I get so puffed up with pride that I think I'm going to burst!"

  He laughed. "Maybe you'd like to give your aunt a ticket?" Valerie hesitated and he laughed again. "I can see she's really a lot like your father—not one of my fans."

  "It isn't that," Valerie said quickly. "But I'd like her to meet you properly, not just to see you on the stage. Please come in, darling."

  "No." He put his hands on the wheel. "Let's get this straight. I've nothing against your family as long as I don't have to meet them—understand?"

  "No, I don't! You can't expect me to cut myself off from my relations, and that's what I'll have to do if you keep acting like this. I don't want to make excuses for you all the time. It's dividing my loyalties and it's wrong. Do you expect me never to have anything to do with my aunt and father again, simply because they—"

  "Your father's different," he cut in. "But I don't intend to get caught up in a dreary web of aunts and uncles. Be reasonable, Val."

  "You're the one who should be reasonable. If you had any feeling for me you'd understand the position you're putting me in. Aunt Alice is the only aunt I've got and I don't intend to hurt her. I'm not the sort to pick people up and throw them down again when it suits me—even if you are!" Jumping out of the car, she slammed the door behind her and ran up the path.

  She had her key in the lock when his hand came round her waist.

  "Don't quarrel with me, Val," he said in her ear. "How can I go on stage and give a decent performance when we've just had a row?"

  Instantly she was contrite. "Oh Nicky! What a selfish beast I am! I'm sorry."

  She pulled his head down and kissed him gently, half expecting him to say he would come in with her. But in this she had misjudged him, for he merely waited until she had opened the door before returning to his car.

  "See you at the theater," he called.

  "See you at the theater," she said, and watched him drive away.

  Wryly she entered the house. Nicky had won this argument as he had won every argument they had had. What sort of future did it auger when she was the only one to give in?

  At the theater that night she sat alone in a box. Hearing the thunder of applause she knew a moment of unreality that it could be herself, Valerie Browne, who meant more to him than any other girl in the world!

  She shivered and wished for a moment that someone from her own life—her father or aunt or even Mark—could be with her right now to share her happiness and dispel the unreal feeling that had taken possession of her.

  After the concert she went around to Nicky's dressing room. She hoped he would suggest they have supper on their own, but he was in high spirits and gregarious and, not wishing to provoke another quarrel, she returned with him and the usual gaggle of hangers-on to the hotel.

  Their engagement was still news and the suite was swarming with reporters and photographers. For what seemed an eternity she had to pose for pictures, and even after the glare of flashbulbs was dispelled, there were still all the questions to be answered.

  "How did you first meet Nicky, Val?"

  "Have you always been a fan of his?"

  "What did he say when he proposed?"

  "When are you getting married?"

  Nicky or Bob replied to most of the questions, saving Valerie the necessity of having to make up answers. However the strain was unpleasant and she was delighted when Bob finally shooed everyone out by saying Nicky would meet them all in an hour's lime at Waltz—the latest, most expensive discotheque in London.

  "Thank heavens they've gone," she muttered, collapsing onto a chair.

  "This is only the beginning," Bob said. "There'll be lots more interviews, you know. With the weeklies, the monthlies, the women's magazines, the musical papers. You're news, Valerie."

  "Nicky's news. Not me."

  "You too. You're the girl he's chosen to marry and his fans will want to know why."

  Valerie also wanted to know why when she saw a picture of herself and Nicky on the front page of one of the daily papers the following morning. Next to it was a photograph of another newly engaged couple— a racing ace and a model—and compared with this girl, Valerie knew herself to be dowdy, out-of-date and—far worse—smug about it. How could Nicky have fallen in love with her? And how could she have been so complacent about her appearance? She had good features and a good figure and she had thought that was enough. Now she knew it wasn't. Good features should be highlighted and a good figure shown to advantage.

  "I'm going to buy some new clothes," she announced to her aunt at the breakfast table.

  "You said that the other day."

  "But this morning I mean it. And different clothes from the ones I had in mind."

  "There are some nice shops on Bond Street."

  Valerie hid a smile. Bond Street and Knightsbridge had been her original choice of venue; now she remembered Nicky telling her of other places—Jackie

  Burns, for one. She thought of her bank balance and wavered, then grew resolute again. She owed it to Nicky to look her best: and not country best at that, but contemporary best. So she'd blow all her savings. So what! Once she was Nicky's wife she would have more than enough money. Thinking of last night's party and the enormous bill which Bob had paid—on Nicky's account no doubt—she was determined to watch the financial side in the future. Nicky deserved security and he wouldn't get it if he allowed dozens of spongers to cling to him.

  She pushed back her chair and rose. "I'm off. When I come back, you'll see a new me."

  "I like the present one."

  "She'll be hidden inside the new one, darling. But that'll be our secret!"

  It was an exhausted, happy, penniless young woman who returned to Bayswater at six o'clock that night. Her aunt's astonished gaze had confirmed the success of her new hairstyle, and her mirror, later that evening, confirmed the success of the first of her new dresses.

  "Do you think Nicky will like it?" she asked, pirouetting round on high heels in front of her aunt.

  "He won't know you. You look like Miss World. Only better!"

  Valerie peered at herself again, seeing the resemblance. "Better than Miss World?"

  "More character in your face, my dear. Beauty alone can often be dull."

  Valerie touched her hair. It had been cut slightly and reshaped completely, so that it swung around her face like brown satin. The expert advice of a beautician, recommended by the hairdresser, had taught her how to make the best of her features: not by heavy makeup, even though it was the current trend, but by underplaying everything except her mouth and eyes.

  "Your skin is flawless," the woman had said. "An honest-to-God English rose. So leave it and just play up those violet blue orbs."

  Jackie Burns had been equally adamant in not allowing Valerie to slavishly follow fashion. Upon learning she was Nicky Barratt's fiancée, a tidbit immediately regaled to her by the salesgirl who had just dealt with Valerie, the designer had rushed from the upstairs workroom and immediately supervised the new wardrobe.r />
  "I only have a limited amount of money to spend," Valerie had protested nervously. "I need masses of things and I can't afford to buy more than one of your dresses."

  "You can't afford not to buy my dresses," Jackie Burns had stated. "I dress all the stars here, and you've got to compete with them. Nicky's a darling boy and I want him to be proud of you. I'll open you an account and you can pay me later."

  Though she tried to argue, the designer was adamant and, because in her heart Valerie agreed with the whole idea of making Nicky proud of her, she. succumbed to the suggestion and spent the rest of the day being fitted with one lovely garment after another. Lucky she was stock size, and the adjustments necessary—a smaller waist and fuller bust— were all easily done.

  "I've never seen you in red before," Mrs. Pafford said, bringing Valerie back to the present. "It suits you."

  The admiring glances that followed Valerie's progress backstage after the show that night confirmed her aunt's compliment, and it added a spring to her step. Her hips swung provocatively, and the chiffon drifted about her shapely legs, while soft ruffles curled invitingly along the contours of her breasts. She had sex appeal. The eyes of the men showed it.

  As she reached Nicky's dressing room she heard voices and frowned as she recognized the shrill tones of a woman. She hesitated, then pushed the door open and walked in. Standing with her back to Valerie, her hands clenched at her sides, was Dawn Meadows, and facing Dawn, his eyes glittering with anger, was Nicky.

  "I absolutely refuse!" he shouted. "You can go to hell first!" Hearing the door open, he glared at Valerie. "How dare you come barging in without—" He gulped. "Valerie! Good lord! I didn't recognize you."

  Dawn turned and looked at her. Then with an exclamation she rushed out.

  Nicky turned to the dressing table and poured himself a whisky from a small flagon. He drank it at a gulp and then eyed Valerie.

  "No wonder I didn't recognize you. What have you done to yourself?"

  "Never mind that now." Valerie's pleasure in her appearance had left her and she felt nothing but uncertainty. "Why were you quarreling with Dawn?"