Persuade Me

by Juliet Archer

  A second later, she poked her head round the door. ‘There’s nothing in the article about Lou, and nothing to suggest he’s got a woman in his life at all – hardly surprising, given the way that journalist’s presenting him. But there’s bound to be one, isn’t there? And, if he’s got any sense, he’ll keep his private life exactly that – private.’

  Anna managed a smile. Then, as soon as Jenny had gone, she curled up on the sofa and stared at the picture of Pornichet; re-living those few days on the boat and ignoring the persistent ring of the phone.

  A freezing cold night, but what did it matter when you’d had several sloe gins for insulation? Jenny glanced up at the black void overhead, where stars glinted like pinheads. If only Tom was walking beside her. Oh, they often shared the same stunning view on a car journey, but nothing like this – the strolling-arm-in-arm, spur-of-the-moment romantic stuff that she used to love.

  By now she’d reached Crescent Lane, which bordered the buildings at the rear of The Royal Crescent Hotel. Further along, she would pass the public entrance to The Dower House Restaurant. Before that, set into a high wall, were two doors leading to the hotel’s self-contained garden suites. An added attraction for visiting film stars, according to a guy she’d once met who worked there; they could come and go from their rooms in relative privacy.

  Odd, then, to see one of those doors ajar …

  As she drew level, she went to pull it shut – then hesitated. No harm in having a little look, was there? So instead she pushed it further open, stepped noiselessly across the threshold and found a small, well-lit courtyard with–

  ‘Oh!’

  If she’d gasped out loud, it didn’t seem to have disturbed the man and woman in the far doorway: a couple in a fevered embrace, a couple she couldn’t help but recognise. She stood stock still, sucking in the cold night air, feeling it sear through her lungs as she took in the scene before her. The man was fully dressed and obviously the one who’d carelessly left the outer door open; he must have a key, even though she knew he wasn’t a hotel guest. The woman was wearing only a loosened towelling robe, but presumably the man’s constantly caressing hands kept her warm. Their ragged, urgent sighs carried towards her, silenced only when their blindly searching mouths met.

  She staggered back out of the little courtyard, leaving the door wide open, feeling her stomach heave. Oh God, how she wished she’d never gone for that little look.

  If only Tom was here … But she wasn’t far from home now, the home that he filled with his solid, familiar, loving presence.

  She broke into a run.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  ‘And you’re certain it was William?’ Tom swung the pan of frothing chocolate-coloured milk off the hob and poured it expertly into two mugs. ‘You know what your eyesight’s like.’

  Jenny gave a weary sigh. ‘And you know it’s my short sight that’s the problem, I’m fine if things are further away. Thanks,’ as he handed her one of the mugs, ‘let’s hope I don’t throw this up, I still feel sort of sick … Believe me, I didn’t want it to be William – and I probably wouldn’t even have seen his face if he hadn’t been twisting about like – like a cobra preparing to strike.’

  ‘But the woman – you’ve only ever seen her in that brochure Anna showed us. Was it definitely–’

  ‘Cléopatra Clé and her Hands of Love? Yes.’ Jenny blew gently on her hot chocolate and gazed unseeingly at the dispersing foam. ‘Oh Tom, I so want Anna to be happy – like us!’

  ‘That’s up to Anna though, isn’t it?’ he said gruffly. ‘There’s only so much you can do.’

  ‘I know, it’s just – I’ve got to tell her about this, haven’t I? She must like him a lot, splashing out on that dress for the theatre – completely out of character.’ Another sigh, as she picked up her drink. ‘When we went out with him on Friday evening, I thought there was something … untrustworthy about him – remember? But I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.’

  ‘Well, you can’t any longer.’ He patted her hand. ‘You’ll have to tell her – and soon.’

  This is a struggle, Anna thought, as she paused for a sip of water in the middle of her eleven o’clock lecture. But then what did she expect after so little sleep? Last night, in bed, she’d stared into the darkness and gone through all the words and looks from the weekend, starting with Molland’s on Friday evening and ending with lunch at the Pump Room Restaurant; shuffled them and turned them over in her mind, like a pack of cards. And only one scenario made sense, the one where Rick was trying to get some closure on the past before moving on. She supposed she was doing the same, in her own way. Except that he wanted to move on to someone new, whereas she’d merely discovered why the old love meant so much.

  She switched her attention firmly back to her students. ‘As I was saying, Turgenev writes particularly about missed opportunities. Take First Love, for example, a poignant tale of being in love with the wrong person …’ So much for work being an escape from her troubles.

  Back home, she made a pretence of eating dinner – a few mouthfuls of tinned tomato soup and half a bread roll – while watching Friends. Sat at the table looking listlessly through her notes for tomorrow’s lectures. Ignored the ringing phones – landline and mobile – because, for a change, she wasn’t in the mood to humour someone else’s needs.

  A knock at the door – that sounded like Jenny. Anna had seen her briefly at lunchtime but, as she had a later start on Mondays, they’d travelled to and from the university separately. She let her in, hoping – for once – that she wouldn’t stay long.

  And – for once – Jenny hovered by the door, as if telepathic. ‘You know I don’t like to interfere,’ she began, venturing a smile.

  Anna rubbed her temples and waited.

  ‘Um, can we sit down?’ Jenny said.

  ‘Of course – sorry, I must have been in some sort of trance. Do you want a coffee?’

  ‘Got anything stronger?’

  ‘Yes, some red wine–’ Anna broke off as she recalled William opening her last bottle. Needless to say, his promise to replace it had never materialised. ‘Actually, no, I haven’t.’

  Jenny heaved a sigh as she crossed to the sofa. ‘Don’t worry, I’m probably better doing this stone cold sober.’

  The first pang of alarm. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Look, why don’t you sit down?’ Jenny patted the sofa beside her.

  But Anna’s legs seemed concreted to the floor. She stayed near the door and stared over at Jenny. ‘Just tell me.’ It was about Rick and the new woman in his life, she was absolutely certain. She steeled herself, eyes darting to the painting of Pornichet as if for reassurance that she, too, had once been new and exciting.

  Jenny was saying, ‘Last night I saw something that I wasn’t supposed to see – and it’s going to upset you.’

  ‘OK.’ This is it, she added silently – but how did Jenny know it was going to upset her? With Jenny, she’d always been very tight-lipped about Rick; not like with Sophie and Ed, when she’d more or less given herself away …

  She forced herself to listen as Jenny continued, ‘It was about eleven o’clock, and I was walking back from Christina’s along Crescent Lane. One of the back doors to The Royal Crescent Hotel was open and – you know me – I couldn’t resist a quick peek.’ A pause; then, almost apologetically, ‘I saw far more than I bargained for – your father’s masseuse and a man we both know, all over each other.’

  Something drummed in Anna’s ears, as though her heart was trying to burst from her body. She heard someone croak, ‘Who was the man?’ and realised it was her voice, a husk of its usual self.

  Jenny eyed her carefully. ‘William.’

  Anna frowned back at her. No way – no way on this earth – could she have mistaken that for ‘Rick’. As it sank in, she smiled – a big, beaming, idiotic smile.

  Now it was Jenny’s turn to frown. ‘It’s true, I saw his face!’

  And Anna felt her voice re
cover its strength and bubble out of her in a laugh. ‘Good! They deserve each other.’

  An incredulous look. ‘You mean you’re not bothered?’

  ‘Why should I be?’ Anna flopped down on the sofa beside her friend; those concrete legs had suddenly turned to jelly.

  ‘Because – well, I thought you cared for him.’

  ‘I do, I suppose – but not in that way. Definitely not in that way.’ There was only one man she cared for in that way … She blinked rapidly, forcing the tears back. Oh shit, she mustn’t get upset like this; thank God Jenny wasn’t wearing her specs.

  ‘But why did you buy–’ Jenny stopped. ‘Never mind, I’m just glad you’re OK with it. Although it does beg the question – why’s William shagging Cléopatra Clé?’

  Anna took a deep calming breath. ‘I imagine he’s desperate to keep her away from Walter, in case any little Walters come along and stop him becoming the 9th Baronet of Kellynch. He can’t sell the baronetcy, but it still has considerable value to him. There’ll always be people who trust a man with a title more than a man without, for whatever reason – pretty useful if you’re flogging expensive investment advice.’ She made a face. ‘And who knows? If Cleo really is working miracles with Walter, she must be pretty good in bed.’

  Jenny chuckled. ‘From what I saw, they’d never have made it as far as her bed.’ A pause, then she added, ‘Wait a minute, if William’s going to seduce every deluded female who has designs on your father – or, more likely, Kellynch – he could be a busy man.’

  ‘I suppose so.’ Anna thought for a moment. ‘But then, so far, Lisa and Minty have been a pretty formidable barrier. Cleo only got under Lisa’s radar because she performed a useful function – making Lisa feel beautiful. And I heard yesterday that William’s looking to live near Kellynch, presumably to keep a closer eye on Walter. Between the three of them, they should see off any future Cleos.’

  ‘Do you think Lisa and William will get back together?’

  ‘If she doesn’t find out about Cleo – yes, I do. But if she does – I’m not so sure.’ Anna bit her lip. ‘Which puts me in a bit of a quandary – should I tell Lisa about this, or not?’

  ‘What would happen if you didn’t? Wouldn’t she find out herself, sooner or later?’

  ‘Probably. But I’d feel guilty that, for a while at least, I knew – and she didn’t.’

  ‘Tell her, then. Just don’t be surprised when she shoots the messenger.’ Jenny got to her feet. ‘Well, I’d better go and put Tom out of his misery. He was worried you’d be distraught about William.’ She made for the door, then spun round. ‘By the way, did you see the email from BRLSI?’

  ‘No – what about?’ They were both volunteers for the Bath Royal Literary and Scientific Institution in Queen Square, helping out at events and exhibitions. Along with many of her university colleagues, Anna had given talks there herself; there seemed to be an indefatigable interest among BRLSI members in the likes of Tolstoy and Dostoevsky and their impact on western culture.

  ‘Bob’s desperate,’ Jenny was saying. ‘Remember he emailed the other day to tell us that the science lecture a week on Friday was cancelled? Now Molland’s want that date for another Rick Wentworth event. They reckon they can fill the place – starting with the people who missed out on tickets last Friday.’ She sighed. ‘Only trouble is, Bob can’t be there – after the cancellation, he decided to book a weekend break. Any chance you can stand in for him? I can’t, Tom and I are going out.’

  She would go, even if it was just to say goodbye. No more Missed Opportunities.

  ‘Thanks for letting me know.’ She forced a smile. ‘I’ll check my diary, but I think I’m free. Can’t let Bob down, can I?’

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Away on his tour of northern England, in an attempt to keep his dark mood at bay, Rick had acquired a new routine. Before it was light, he got up and went for a run, enjoying the early-morning anonymity if not the autumn chill. Next – shower, breakfast and his first encounter of the day with Dave. He always went through the motions of checking the itinerary, but in fact Dave could have driven him to the same place each time and he’d have been practically none the wiser. Except when he went back to his old secondary school in County Durham – Stephenson country, as railway-buff Dave called it; there he did a different talk, all about making the best of yourself and finding work you could feel passionate about. In an area where the only job security was at the local unemployment office, and coming from a man who’d forgotten what passion felt like, it all sounded rather hollow.

  He spent most of his days travelling with Dave, eating with Dave, giving talks and signing books for people he didn’t know and never would. Back in his room – each night a different hotel, yet they were all uncannily similar – he made a rule never to open the mini bar. Mind you, he usually had a couple of pints with his evening meal; he realised how much he’d missed the rusty tang of English beer. Finally, to the drone of some late-night film on TV, he would drift off to sleep.

  And then the dreams would start. Oh, Annie …

  But gradually, he came to see what he’d shared with Anna more clearly – and to accept it as a unique and amazing part of his past, even if it would never be part of his future. What about the present? Well, he resolved to get through the rest of his visit to England and, along the way, show Anna the same generosity of spirit that she had shown him ever since he arrived.

  That was why he wanted to phone her, or so he told himself; to apologise for storming out of the theatre and arrange to see her again. Except that he rang her mobile several evenings running and got no answer. Then, at last, she picked up.

  ‘Anna?’

  Silence.

  ‘It’s me.’ A pause. ‘Rick.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I just wanted to say I’m sorry. Again. And I’m back in Bath next Friday–’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Can I see you?’

  Another silence; then, ‘If you want. I’ll be at your talk.’ And she hung up. Even worse, when he rang back she didn’t answer.

  Then Ben phoned to say that he was planning to come to Bath on the same day as Rick. ‘I’ve got a meeting at the university in the afternoon, then I thought we could meet up for a few drinks.’ He chuckled. ‘I was even going to come to your talk, but I can’t get a ticket – they’ve sold out.’

  ‘You can come as my guest,’ Rick said, ‘as long as you don’t heckle.’

  ‘Now there’s an idea – I could tell the audience about some of your exploits from our student days, I’m sure they’d be riveted.’

  Rick forced a laugh. ‘I’ll look forward to it, haven’t had any adverse publicity since last Sunday.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Just one problem – there’s someone I need to see straight after my talk, and I don’t know how long it’ll take. Are you planning to stay overnight?’

  ‘If I’m out with you – definitely! And of course, when you’ve got three small kids, the thought of an uninterrupted night’s sleep is always appealing.’ Ben paused. ‘Got anywhere in mind?’

  ‘I’ll text you the number of the hotel where I’ll be staying. There’s a decent pub just round the corner, so we won’t have far to stagger back after a beer or two.’

  It was a relief to think that, as soon as he’d seen Anna, he’d be able to go and drown his sorrows with Ben. There’d be no time to dwell on anything; no time at all.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  For Anna, the days leading up to Rick’s talk dragged so much that even a visit from William – or at least an attempt at one – was a welcome distraction. He rang her doorbell the evening after Rick’s phone call, making her jump and wonder if it was Rick himself … But it wasn’t, of course.

  He drawled over the intercom, ‘Special delivery for Anna Elliot!’

  She played dumb. ‘Which company are you from?’

  ‘Anna, darling, just let me in. It’s bloody cold out here.’

  ‘Shame, it’s bloody w
arm up here,’ she said, flippantly. Then, in a sterner tone, ‘What exactly do you want?’

  ‘Where do I start?’ His voice turned to honey, sweet and slow and thick with complacency. ‘I’ve got a crate of red wine, to replace the bottle I opened. Some exciting news about Kellynch. And Moët & Chandon, for a little celebration.’

  ‘What are you celebrating?’

  ‘I can’t talk to you like this,’ he wheedled. ‘Why don’t you just buzz me up and I’ll reveal all over a glass of champagne?’

  ‘I never let strange men into my flat.’ There – she’d thrown down the gauntlet; although she didn’t feel as calm and collected as she hoped she sounded.

  ‘Anna, darling, what can you possibly mean?’ But, for the first time, she detected a thread of unease running through the silky-smooth charm. ‘I’ve already been in your flat, just the other week. You didn’t think me strange then, did you?’

  ‘But I do now.’

  A nervous laugh. ‘I think you’d better explain that cryptic little comment face to face. Buzz me up, there’s a good girl, before I freeze to death.’

  ‘But I’m not a good girl.’ She took a deep breath and went for it. ‘And is it any colder than Sunday, when you were enjoying the night air outside the back door of The Pavilion?’

  Silence. Then a guarded ‘What did you see?’

  ‘Enough. I haven’t decided when or how to tell Lisa – yet. And I’ll have to tell Walter, I suppose, although I’m sure you’ll give him some bullshit about sacrificing your own happiness with Lisa to save him from social and financial ruin with Cleo.’

  ‘But Anna, that’s exactly what I’m doing – sacrificing my own happiness.’ He paused, then rushed on, ‘Don’t judge me too harshly, I’ll tell you everything if you’ll just let me in.’

  ‘But William – don’t you understand? You don’t need to tell me anything. What there was between us in the past – a brief, teenage friendship – no longer exists.’ She added, with a sigh of irritation, ‘And your sudden interest now just doesn’t add up, you could have got in touch with me when you first met Lisa in London – but you didn’t.’