Stolen Beginnings

by Susan Lewis

  ‘Changed your mind, have you?’ she said tartly.

  A smile flickered across his mouth before he answered. ‘Actually,’ he said, ‘I’m worried about Marian. She’s been gone over half an hour.’

  Madeleine’s face tightened. ‘So?’

  ‘I think I’ll go and look for her.’

  She turned round, her top lip arching into a sneer. ‘Well, what are you waiting for, my permission?’

  He shrugged. ‘I was wondering if you might have some idea of where she’d be.’

  ‘Why should I? She said she was going to the shops, so I presume that’s where she is.’

  He turned back into the hall and took his coat from the rack. ‘If she comes back, tell her I’ve gone looking,’ he said.

  ‘I will – if I’m here.’

  He didn’t bother to remind her that Marian had gone out to get butter for her toast, he knew only too well that the girl had no conscience.

  He’d been gone no more than five minutes when the front door opened again and Marian came in. Her face was flushed with excitement as she tore off her coat, then snatched up the carrier bag she’d dropped on the floor.

  ‘Maddy,’ she said in a whisper as Madeleine came into the hall, ‘I’ve got to talk to you.’

  Madeleine gave her a peculiarly acrimonious look – Marian really did look so much better these days, even that dull, long hair of hers seemed to shine. ‘If it’s something you don’t want Paul to hear,’ she said, ‘then don’t worry, he’s gone out.’

  Marian stopped, her eyes losing some of their sparkle. ‘Oh? Did he say where?’

  Madeleine sighed. ‘As a matter of fact, he’s gone looking for you. Where have you been?’

  ‘Looking for me?’ Marian’s rapt smile irritated Madeleine and she tossed her head impatiently. ‘I just can’t believe the way he fusses over me,’ Marian laughed. ‘Oh Maddy, I love him so much. I feel like a different person since I’ve known him.’

  ‘I’d never have noticed,’ Madeleine replied. ‘Anyway, I’ve got a surprise for you.’

  ‘Me first!’ Marian declared. ‘I’ve got some news and a surprise. The news first.’ She pushed Madeleine back into the bedroom and closed the door. ‘I’ve been downstairs with Pamela Robbins,’ she said. ‘She’s going away filming next week for twelve weeks and she’s letting her flat to a director who’s going to be in Bristol shooting a film for Channel Four.’ Just as she’d known it would, this immediately sparked Madeleine’s interest. ‘And you’ll never guess who it is,’ Marian went on. ‘Matthew Cornwall!’

  Madeleine’s face was blank. ‘Who’s he?’

  ‘Oh Maddy! He’s just about the best known director in the country, and he’s absolutely gorgeous. You were only reading about him the other day in one of your magazines.’

  ‘Was I?’ Madeleine said. ‘I can’t remember. When’s he moving in?’

  ‘Next Monday apparently. Oh Maddy, just imagine, Matthew Cornwall right here in our house. This could be just the break you’ve been looking for.’

  ‘It could indeed,’ Madeleine answered, but carefully hid what she was really thinking – that another man on the scene, and one like Matthew What’s-His-Name, could be just what she was looking for to make Paul as jealous as hell. ‘We’ll have to invite him up for a drink,’ she said.

  ‘Whatever you like. Now, what’s your surprise?’

  ‘You’ll have to wait and see. And yours?’

  ‘You’re going to have to wait for that too,’ Marian chuckled, ‘but if I can pull it off it’s absolutely fantastic.’ She took a packet of butter from her carrier and handed it to Madeleine. ‘Now go and put the kettle on and make us both some tea and toast.’ She waited until Madeleine had gone, then opened the wardrobe door and pushed the carrier bag to the back.

  When Paul returned he found them sitting on the floor munching toast and flicking through old magazines, trying to find the article about Matthew Cornwall. When she saw him, Marian jumped to her feet and put her arms round him.

  ‘I was worried about you,’ he smiled as she kissed him. ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘Planning a surprise,’ she said, ‘and talking to our neighbour downstairs.’

  ‘What kind of surprise?’

  She gave a sigh of exasperation. ‘It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, would it?’

  ‘She’s being very mysterious,’ Madeleine yawned.

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ Marian retorted. ‘Anyway, want some toast?’

  Paul nodded, and once Marian had left the room he caught Madeleine’s eye and held it until she looked away. He might not be prepared to do anything about it, but he got quite a kick out of teasing her. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor and looked daggers at him, before turning round to switch on the TV, stabbing the button hard and leaving him in no doubt that she’d have taken great pleasure in doing the same to him.

  ‘What’s the telly on for?’ Marian said when she came in with a tray of more toast and coffee. No one answered, so she put the tray on the table and turned Paul’s wrist to see the time. ‘The lunchtime news should be on the other side, shall we watch that?’ she said, looking at Madeleine. When Madeleine only shrugged she started playing around with the tuner button, trying to get a decent reception for BBC 1.

  ‘Stop!’ Madeleine suddenly shouted. ‘Go back! Go back!’

  Marian fiddled with the knob until she found the hazy picture she’d just passed. ‘This?’ she said.

  Madeleine was staring at the screen, and surprised by the intent, almost angry expression on her face, Marian turned to watch too.

  ‘I’m not sure that coup is quite the right word,’ Stephanie Ryder was telling her interviewer, ‘but naturally my partner and I are delighted to have the rights.’

  ‘Olivia Hastings has been missing for some five years now,’ the interviewer said. ‘Just about everything that is known about her disappearance has been published in the press, heard on TV, indeed written about in Deborah Foreman’s book. Will you be introducing anything new? New evidence, new theories about what happened in Italy?’

  Stephanie smiled. ‘You’ll have to wait for the film to come out for the answer to that, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Olivia Hastings,’ Marian said, thoughtfully. ‘Isn’t she the girl . . . ?’

  ‘Sssh!’ Madeleine slapped her hand.

  ‘And will the film be released here first, or in America?’ the interviewer wanted to know.

  ‘America. I hope to make it with an English crew, but the finance, of course, is totally American. As indeed, is Olivia.’

  Madeleine snorted. ‘God, she’s a stuck-up old cow, isn’t she?’

  Astonished by this sudden outburst, Marian turned to look at her. ‘Who?’ she asked.

  Madeleine sprang to her feet. ‘Her there! That stupid bitch of a producer, Stephanie whatever-her-name-is. God, she thinks she’s it just because she’s being interviewed on the telly. Someone should tell her, she looks like a constipated pig!’

  ‘But she’s stunning,’ Marian objected, as Madeleine stormed from the room. ‘What on earth was all that about?’ she said, turning to Paul.

  ‘Search me.’

  Concerned that someone she had never met before had so upset Madeleine, Marian followed her into the bedroom. She was sitting at the mirror, dragging a brush furiously through her hair. ‘What’s wrong?’ Marian asked.

  ‘What do you mean, what’s wrong?’

  ‘Well, isn’t it a bit strange to . . .’

  ‘Oh shut up, Marian!’

  ‘No, I won’t. I want to know why you flew off the handle like that.’

  Madeleine jerked herself round to face her cousin. ‘Because, if you must know, she was the old bag who threw my clothes at me in the HTV club bar. Satisfied? And if you tell Paul, I’ll kill you.’

  Feeling her mouth start to twitch, Marian thought it wise to leave the room before Madeleine noticed. As she walked back into the sitting-room she looked at Stephanie Ryder, whose in
terview was coming to an end. No wonder Madeleine had been so upset, Stephanie Ryder wasn’t only a producer, she was beautiful too. Madeleine had never told her that. With Stephanie’s air of cool self-confidence and sophistication, it was no wonder Madeleine felt so wretched and humiliated.

  That evening Madeleine wasn’t working, so after she’d been for her sun-bed session the three of them pooled their resources and went to the Chateau Wine Bar. Neither Marian nor Madeleine was in a particularly good mood because they’d had a row about the way Madeleine squandered money on beauty treatments when it could have been used to pay off some of the bills. Madeleine’s defence was that she had to look her best if Matthew Cornwall was arriving the following week, and ungraciously, Marian had given in.

  Madeleine’s set, as usual, were grouped round the back bar, and after a few drinks Madeleine became increasingly animated. It was all an attempt to demonstrate to Paul how popular she was, but he was sitting at a table with Marian, engrossed in an amusing discussion of existentialism and completely oblivious to the way Madeleine was flirting with any man who came her way.

  By eleven o’clock Madeleine was at screaming-point. Jackie and Sharon had now witnessed how close Marian and Paul were, and both had grudgingly admitted that they didn’t think Madeleine was going to win after all.

  ‘I mean, look at the way he looks at her,’ Sharon said. ‘He hasn’t got eyes for anyone else.’

  ‘In a way you can hardly blame him,’ Jackie chipped in. ‘I’d hardly have recognised her. Of course, she’ll never be a raving beauty,’ she added hurriedly, ‘but you know what being in love does to a woman, and I’m telling you, I’ve never seen such a transformation. Has she lost weight?’

  ‘God knows,’ Madeleine answered through gritted teeth.

  ‘I think you’re going to have to bow out graciously this time,’ Sharon said.

  ‘Not on your life,’ Madeleine hissed, now more determined than ever. ‘I’ve got another card up my sleeve, and this one’s bound to work.’

  ‘What was all that about?’ Marian asked when they were leaving. Madeleine was still laughing because Jackie had shouted out something about a three-card trick.

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ Madeleine answered. ‘Now come on, let’s hurry up and get home, I’ve got a surprise, if you remember.’

  ‘Well?’ Marian said, when they got in the front door. ‘What is it?’

  Paul watched Madeleine throw her coat on a chair and rush to the mirror to check how much damage the sudden downpour had caused. He hadn’t been as oblivious to her during the evening as she’d thought, but if she’d known what he was thinking she’d have wished he had been. He was repelled by the way she prowled shamelessly about the wine bar on the hunt for a man, and her loud laughter and suggestive eyes were cringe-making – though he was intrigued to see what lengths she would go to in pursuit of her goal.

  ‘Madeleine!’ Marian half shouted with frustration.

  Madeleine looked at Paul, but he was turning on the gas fire. ‘I,’ Madeleine declared, dragging her eyes from him and turning to Marian, ‘have decided that from now on I am going to sleep on the sofa. So you two can have the bedroom to yourselves.’

  Paul turned round, his eyebrows raised and the corners of his mouth tight. He should have been prepared for her to pull a stunt like this and he was angry, as much with himself for not having foreseen it as with Madeleine for putting Marian in this position.

  ‘Madeleine,’ Marian gulped. Her insides were in an uproar and her voice did nothing to hide her mortification. ‘Do you think we could talk about this? In the bedroom?’

  Paul caught Madeleine’s arm as she started to leave, and pulled her back. ‘No, Marian,’ he said, ‘you and I will talk about this.’ Then letting Madeleine go, he took Marian’s hand and led her down the hall. ‘Sit down,’ he said, as he closed the bedroom door.

  She did, but before he could speak she immediately started to gabble an apology for Madeleine’s lack of tact. ‘I promise you I didn’t put her up to it,’ she was saying. ‘I had no idea. It was as much of a shock to me as it . . .’ She stopped as he put a finger over her lips. Then he sat down and took her hands in his.

  ‘I’d like to take Madeleine up on her offer,’ he said.

  Marian’s eyes and mouth formed three circles as she stared at him. Then a rush of colour stained her white face.

  ‘If you’re completely averse to the idea,’ he continued, ‘then of course we can forget it. Or, if you like, we can keep the beds separate and I will promise not to molest you.’ Slowly her eyes started to reflect the humour in his. ‘I think you would be wise to say yes,’ he went on. ‘If nothing else, it will stop Madeleine from embarrassing you in this way again. Which, given the opportunity, she will, I’m quite sure.’

  ‘She doesn’t mean anything by it, you know,’ Marian said, aware that she was veering away from the point. ‘It’s just her sense of humour.’

  ‘I’m not sure whether humour’s the right word,’ he muttered, ‘but I’m not interested in Madeleine. What I want to know is your answer.’

  Marian bowed her head. Her heart was thumping violently and she was sure he must be aware of the way her hands shook. Eventually she nodded, and he pulled her into his arms.

  ‘I take it that’s a yes,’ he whispered. ‘But it shouldn’t have happened like this. We’ll push the beds together, but I’ll keep to my side until you tell me yourself that you’re ready for more. Until then I think it might be better if you let Madeleine think that we are making love. Now stay here and I’ll go and tell her to come and fetch her things. And would madam like a nightcap?’

  ‘Madam would.’ The words tripped out so lightly that she was amazed they had been spoken by her own voice, but she was smiling when Madeleine came flying into the room, closed the door and threw her arms round her.

  ‘Oh Marian, I’m really glad you said yes,’ she cried, almost choking on her rage. ‘Let me help you push the beds together, and I’ll give you a few hints.’ Letting Marian go, she dived between the beds and picked up the small cabinet that separated them. Marian watched her, still too dazed by the events of the last few minutes for anything approaching coherent thought.

  ‘We’ll suppose you’re already in the nude,’ Madeleine said, carrying the cabinet over to the window. She stole a quick glance at her cousin, and satisfied with Marian’s dismayed expression, she carried on: ‘You should keep the light on, men always prefer that, and when he kisses you – has he used his tongue yet?’

  Marian shook her head.

  Madeleine hid her amazement and continued. ‘Well, when you’re building up to it,’ she said, ‘he’ll put his tongue in your mouth. It’s sort of the first part of foreplay. You should put yours in his too, by the way. Then he’ll probably kiss your neck, then your boobs. Now when his hand touches you down below . . .’

  ‘Oh, stop it, Madeleine.’

  ‘Why? What’s the matter?’

  Marian shrugged. ‘It’s personal, isn’t it?’

  ‘I thought you wanted some advice?’

  ‘I do – did, but . . .’

  ‘Look, if you’re going to be this bashful with me, how the hell are you going to be with him? Anyway, it’s all perfectly natural, everyone does it – well, everyone except you. And he’ll have done it hundreds of times before, he’ll know exactly what he’s doing, so you’re going to look pretty stupid lying there like a dummy, aren’t you?’

  ‘I won’t lie there like a dummy!’

  ‘Then what are you going to do? Come on, tell me! See, you don’t know, do you? What if asks you to put his thing in your mouth?’

  Marian looked at her, aghast. ‘He wouldn’t . . . would he?’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, of course he would. And you’ll gag, everyone does, especially if he asks you to swallow his sperm, but you’d better get used to the idea because men just love oral sex. And get him to do it to you too, it’s fantastic!’

  ‘I’m not listening to you any more,
’ Marian cried. ‘You’re insane if you think I’m going to ask him to do that to me.’

  ‘Do what? You don’t even know what a man does when he’s got his head down there, do you?’

  ‘Not really, and I don’t want, to either.’

  ‘All right! All right! Forget that. But whatever you do, you’ve got to play with his balls.’

  Despite herself, Marian giggled. ‘Honestly, Madeleine!’

  ‘Hold them in your hand for a while, and make sure his thing’s absolutely rock hard, then squeeze. I’m telling you, it’ll blow his mind.’

  Marian looked dubious. ‘But I thought men found that painful.’

  Madeleine rolled her eyes. ‘God, you’ve got a lot to learn. That’s why I told you to make sure it’s really hard, it doesn’t hurt then.’

  Marian flopped down on the bed. ‘I’m going to make a real hash of this, I just know it,’ she groaned, forgetting for a moment that it wasn’t going to happen that night.

  ‘You won’t,’ Madeleine assured her. ‘Just do as I’ve told you and have plenty of tissues at hand, the blood makes a real mess.’

  ‘Blood? Oh yes, the blood.’

  Marian could feel herself sinking into despondency and was more relieved than she should have been when she remembered that Paul had said they’d do nothing until she was ready.

  She undressed in the bathroom, wishing she had something a little more fetching to put on than a flannelette nightgown. When she studied herself in the mirror she was amazed to find her own face looking back at her with such calm, when inside a tempest of conflicting emotions raged. Her chest heaved with nervous breath, yet she felt light-headed with exhilaration. She longed for him to touch her in the intimate places that were tingling so warmly, yet the thought frightened and embarrassed her.

  He was already in bed when she went into the bedroom, and she almost gasped at the sight of his naked chest. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen it before, but for some reason it looked different tonight. She felt a thrill run through her veins and quickly turned away.