Stolen Beginnings

by Susan Lewis

  ‘You’ve what? Didn’t she think that was a bit odd?’

  ‘Yes. But I told her you were lonely, and that it made little difference to her whether she was in Stephanie’s flat or her husband’s pied-a-terre, seeing as he’s not in town at the moment, so you two could keep one another company.’

  ‘I’d have thought she was sick of me by now. We’ve just spent over two weeks in each other’s company, twenty-four hours a day.’

  ‘You do yourself an injustice. She quite liked the idea, actually. She’s moving in over the weekend while you’re away.’

  Marian looked at her watch, but she still had plenty of time to get to Paddington for her train.

  ‘I’ve read the scenes you drafted for Italy,’ he told her. ‘They’re exceptional. You’ve got quite a talent, you know, Marian, you should think about using it more profitably. I think Stephanie’s going to have a word with you about that.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I’ll let her tell you.’

  ‘Matthew,’ she said, after a pause, ‘do you think Olivia’s still alive?’

  He compressed his lips together thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know,’ he answered finally. ‘Sometimes I think she is, other times I don’t. What about you?’

  ‘I think she is.’

  ‘Why? Not because of the screams you heard in Tuscany, surely?’

  ‘No, I’m pretty certain that was a nightmare now.’

  ‘Then why do you think she’s alive?’

  ‘Well, nobody’s ever found a body. I mean, surely one would have turned up after all this time if she were dead. So I think she’s alive.’

  ‘And don’t tell me, it’s your intention to find out,’ he said, arching his brows humorously.

  ‘Oh no. I’m not so conceited as to think I can succeed where everyone else has failed. But I will admit that it’s driving me nuts trying to work out what’s happened to her, isn’t it you?’

  ‘Yes, it is.’ He put down his drink, and taking her hand, he turned her to face him. ‘But I hope you mean it when you say you’re not going to try and find out. I know that sitting here in London, America and Italy seem a whole world away, but please don’t underestimate the crimes – or indeed the people – Olivia was involved with. I’m sure you feel as strongly as I do about what happened to the children, anyone would, so the men who committed those atrocities will stop at nothing to hide their identities. If you dig too deep then whatever’s happened to Olivia could well happen to you. Remember, it’s because she knew what they were doing that she was sent to Italy, and no one’s ever seen her since. And fond of you as I am, Marian, I don’t want to be making a film about you.’

  He was looking so deeply into her eyes, and his hand was holding hers so tightly, that by the time he’d finished her face was suffused with colour and her pulses were racing. She gazed into his face, for the moment unable to utter a word as the pretence of light-heartedness which had so far carried her through this meeting was eclipsed by the truth of what she felt for him.

  ‘Well, hello.’

  Both Matthew and Marian looked up, and Marian’s heart foundered as she saw Stephanie and Bronwen standing over them.

  ‘Not interrupting anything, are we?’ Stephanie said, sweeping her eyes from Marian’s crimson face to their joined hands.

  ‘Not at all,’ Matthew smiled, getting to his feet. ‘As a matter of fact, we were just talking about Olivia.’

  ‘Really?’ Stephanie said archly, and neither Marian nor Matthew missed the knowing look that passed between her and Bronwen.

  ‘Yes, really,’ he said. ‘Now, what would you two like to drink?’

  Ignoring Matthew, Stephanie said, ‘I thought you were catching the six o’clock train to Devon, Marian.’

  Marian’s eyes flicked nervously to Matthew. ‘I was only . . .’

  ‘I asked her to come and have a drink with me so she could fill me in in more detail on what happened over in Italy,’ Matthew finished for her.

  Again Stephanie looked at Bronwen, but Bronwen, not wanting to get involved, was studying the cocktail menu.

  Then Matthew put an arm round Stephanie and whispered something in her ear. Stephanie burst out laughing, and dropping her bag on the floor, she gave him a quick kiss before sitting down on the sofa facing Marian. Certain that whatever he’d said had been about her, Marian was mortified and reached quickly for her bag, mumbling that she had to leave now.

  ‘No you don’t,’ Matthew told her. ‘Your train’s not until a quarter to nine so you’ll have another drink. And you, Bron? What’ll you have?’

  ‘I’ll have a Kir Royale,’ she said, obviously relieved that the awkward moment had passed.

  ‘Me too,’ Stephanie said, then turning to Marian, she smiled. ‘Have you called your mother to tell her you’ll be late?’

  Marian nodded. ‘I used the phone out there, in reception.’

  ‘Good. When are you coming back?’

  ‘On Sunday night,’ Marian assured her. ‘I’ll be at work on Monday.’

  ‘That’s what I like to hear, don’t you, Bron? Dedication – and loyalty.’

  The was no mistaking the sarcasm in Stephanie’s voice, and Marian looked down at her hands, not knowing what to do or say.

  Bronwen sat down next to her. ‘Have you heard?’ she said. ‘I’m going to be your flat-mate?’

  ‘Yes,’ Marian smiled, ‘Matthew told me.’ Immediately she wished she could take back the last three words.

  Then, to Marian’s relief, someone Stephanie and Bronwen both knew came over to talk to them, and by the time he went away Matthew was back with the drinks.

  Over the next hour Marian hardly spoke at all, while Stephanie and Matthew resumed their argument about the helicopter and cranes for the opening sequence, with Bronwen playing devil’s advocate. The outcome was, as ever, a stalemate, and Bronwen declared that they should discuss the more pressing matter of who was to play the part of Olivia.

  When eight o’clock finally came round Marian waited for a lull in the conversation, then announced that she would have to leave.

  ‘How are you getting to Paddington, cariad?’

  ‘I’m taking her,’ Matthew answered.

  Marian looked at him in astonishment. He hadn’t said so before.

  ‘You haven’t got your car here,’ Stephanie informed him acidly.

  ‘I know. I’m taking her in a taxi.’

  ‘But she’s perfectly capable of getting a taxi on her own, aren’t you, Marian?’

  ‘Yes,’ Marian answered with alacrity.

  ‘I’m sure she is, but I’m taking her. Will you still be here when I get back, or shall I meet you at the flat?’

  ‘Please, Matthew,’ Marian said, ‘I can get a taxi on my own, honestly. Thank you.’ But looking at Stephanie’s face, she knew she’d only succeeded in making matters worse.

  ‘I’ve got a terrific idea,’ Stephanie said. ‘Why don’t you go to Devon with Marian, Matthew. That way you’ll be absolutely certain she’s got there in one piece, won’t you?’

  ‘And I’ve got an even better idea,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you come in the taxi with us to Paddington, and then we can take it on home, together?’

  ‘No, thank you,’ Stephanie replied. ‘I’m having a drink with Bronwen. Goodnight.’

  Rolling his eyes and letting out a deep sigh, Matthew turned to Marian and jerked his head towards the door.

  ‘You needn’t come with me,’ Marian told him as he flagged down a taxi. ‘I can make it to Paddington on my own, I promise you.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I’m coming.’

  ‘But why? No one’s following me as far as I’m aware, and it’s just causing friction between you and Stephanie.’

  ‘Let me worry about Stephanie,’ he said as he pushed her inside the taxi. ‘Paddington Station,’ he told the driver, then getting in himself, he sat back in the seat beside her.

  ‘Really, Matthew,’ she protested, ‘you needn’t worry so much about me. I ca
n look after myself. After all, if you didn’t know anything about it . . .’

  ‘But I do know, and I do worry, so let’s leave it at that, shall we?’

  ‘How can I leave it at that when Stephanie thinks . . .’ She gulped, and turned quickly away.

  ‘When Stephanie thinks what? That we’re having an affair?’

  She shrugged. ‘I’m sure she doesn’t think that. I mean, that would be preposterous.’

  ‘Would it?’ he said, then laughed as she spun round in her seat and looked at him with disbelieving eyes.

  The rest of the journey was spent in silence, and when they arrived at the station Marian expected him to let her out, then ask the driver to turn round and take him back to the Groucho. But he didn’t, he got out with her, paid the fare, then carried her case onto the platform.

  ‘You’re overdoing this, you know,’ she told him. ‘I mean, what happens at the other end? I shall be on my own then.’

  ‘Isn’t your mother meeting you from the station?’

  ‘Well, yes, she is. Though she doesn’t usually.’

  ‘Well, if she is, then you won’t be alone, will you? Now here you are, sit in this carriage here, it’s quite full so you should be all right.’ He helped her on, then found her a seat next to the window and put her case in the storage space above. ‘Now I’d better be getting back to make my peace with Stephanie. Have a good time, and don’t speak to any strange men.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Marian promised, laughing.

  By the time the train pulled out of the station, five minutes later, he had vanished into the crowds and was probably, she surmised, already in a taxi on his way back to Stephanie. She wondered if Stephanie would be waiting when he got there, and though part of her hoped she wouldn’t be, another part remembered Stephanie’s remark about loyalty, and she felt herself burn with shame. She, more than anyone else – with the possible exception of Bronwen – knew how insecure Stephanie was when it came to Matthew, and now it was she, the very person in whom Stephanie had trusted and confided, who was scheming to take him away from her.

  But although she didn’t like herself too well for the way she felt about Matthew, it actually wasn’t true to say that she was scheming to take him from Stephanie. She would never do that to Stephanie, nor to anyone, not after she had had it done to her and knew exactly how it felt. Besides, even if she were scheming, it was utter nonsense to think she had even an iota of a chance of succeeding; Matthew was so much older than her, and he was obviously very much in love with Stephanie – even if Stephanie did refuse to believe it. Now she must spend the rest of her journey trying to make herself accept the truth. And the truth was, that no matter how concerned Matthew was for her, or how fond of her he claimed to be, he would never, never, seriously consider giving up Stephanie for someone like her. Someone who seemed to have forgotten, these past few weeks, what a thoroughly unattractive and unconfident person she really was.

  Sergio was waiting for Deidre in her office. She’d known he was there the instant she saw her secretary’s face – no one but Sergio Rambaldi could ruffle Anne’s imperturable calm. As she opened the door she saw him sitting at her desk, flicking through a magazine, but when he saw her he put it down and stood up. Straightaway she felt the sensitive force of his mind; it was as though he were reaching out for her misery, telling her that he was there now, so she must release it and let it go to him. She tried to speak but her voice was engulfed by emotion, and as she walked into his embrace, he smiled, and taking her face in his hands, he pressed his lips gently to hers. Then, as he gazed at her with his magnificent eyes, she felt her weakness turning slowly to strength.

  She wanted to speak, to tell him all that was in her mind, but knew that she would be unable to until he let her go. But when he did so, she found herself moving back to him, drawn by the sheer power of his presence. It was a long time since he had affected her so profoundly, and she was reminded of the early days between them when she’d have given him her life if he had asked it. Perhaps she had given him her life . . .

  He spoke quietly, in his soft, hypnotic voice. ‘I came as soon as I could, cara. Now you must tell me all you have learned.’

  In a tremulous whisper she told him how she had searched his apartment, then followed him to the hill that led to Paesetto di Pittore.

  ‘I see.’ He smiled. ‘But tell me, cara, in your heart you always knew?’

  She nodded. ‘About Olivia, yes. But not about . . .’

  He put his fingers over her lips. ‘And yet you have never betrayed me. I am undeserving of your love.’

  ‘Will you tell me now,’ she said, ‘what happened?’

  He shook his head. ‘It is difficult, my love. But when it is over I will tell you. I will tell you before Olivia returns to the world.’

  ‘Then she is alive?’

  The question seemed to haunt him and his eyes had a faraway, almost ethereal look as he stared past her. ‘Sì, è ancora viva.’ Then, as if he had relinquished his thoughts to a passing cloud, he turned back to her. ‘You have come to love Madeleine, no?’

  She nodded; and as he smiled, sadly, the dread that had been with her ever since she’d searched his apartment suddenly tore at her heart. She turned away, moving to her desk and resting her hands on the edge. ‘You’re going to take her, aren’t you?’ she whispered. ‘That’s why you have all those pictures of her. I knew when I saw them, but . . . Sergio, please tell me it’s not true. Please tell me you’re not going to take her.’

  She waited for a long time, feeling the silence creep between them like the spectre of doom. In the end she turned to look at him, her eyes imploring him to deny it, but he said nothing.

  ‘Why? Why Madeleine? Oh Sergio, don’t take her away from me, I beg you. Please, don’t take her away.’

  ‘I must, cara.’

  ‘Then tell me why. Please, Sergio,’ she begged, ‘please tell me why.’

  As he walked towards her, her eyes moved over the immaculate beauty of his face. ‘There are many reasons, reasons I cannot explain now.’

  ‘If there are many, tell me one.’

  ‘You have made her famous.’

  She shook her head, bewildered. ‘But that doesn’t make any sense.’

  ‘It will. I promise you, one day it will.’

  ‘And what about Madeleine? Where will she be then?’

  ‘She will be with Olivia and together they will return to the world.’

  ‘Sergio, it sounds so horrible. What does it mean, they will return to the world?’

  ‘It means that you will see her again.’

  ‘When?’

  He lifted a hand to stroke her hair. ‘You are a brave woman, my darling,’ he whispered. ‘I have stolen your heart and know what this has cost you, but my gratitude and love are all yours. I need you now, I need you to help me and to trust me.’

  ‘Oh Sergio.’ Her voice trembled, but the potent touch of his fingers steadied her. ‘If I knew what was going to happen to her, if I knew . . .’

  ‘Sash! It would not help to know. Please, just trust me, cara.’

  Though he was barely touching her, she felt as if he was pulling her to him, wrapping himself around her, swallowing her into the depths of his love. And though not a muscle in her body moved, she felt herself join with him, and knew that he was so much a part of her now, it was as if her personality had merged into his. ‘Hold me,’ she gasped. ‘Hold me, please.’

  When Marian arrived back at Stephanie’s flat on Sunday night, Bronwen was sitting out on the balcony, checking through the script and basking in the evening sun.

  ‘Ah, cariad,’ she said as she saw Marian walking across the sitting-room towards her. ‘Come and have a glass of wine with me. Good weekend, was it?’

  Marian dropped her bag on the sofa. ‘Don’t ask,’ she sighed. Then, smiling, ‘Actually, it wasn’t so bad. I played a game of bingo and won twenty pounds.’

  Bronwen laughed and Marian wandered outside to sit down, pick
ing up the pages Bronwen had already been over with her blue pencil. The air was still and fragrant, and in the distance church bells chimed.

  ‘This is nice, isn’t it?’ Bronwen said after a while. ‘Just you and me. Gives us a chance to have a little chat – without any interruptions.’

  ‘Interruptions?’ Marian repeated. ‘You make it sound as though you’ve got something particular to say.’

  Bronwen smiled awkwardly, then took a mouthful of wine. She was already beginning to regret agreeing to this, but she’d promised Stephanie. Besides, Stephanie was right, Marian was making such a chump of herself over Matthew that it was the only decent thing to do. She looked across the table at Marian, and the cheerful smile she received made her heart sink. This wasn’t going to be easy. ‘How was your mother?’ she said.

  A frown briefly crossed Marian’s face. ‘As a matter of fact, she wasn’t too well. She said she’d had a cold recently, but she was taking some sort of pills and I’ve never, in all my life, known her to resort to medication for anything as simple as a cold. And then, when we went to visit my father’s grave this morning, she had a dizzy spell. She won’t admit it, but I think she’s fretting over Madeleine. She’s still hoping she’ll answer her letter.’

  ‘Do you think she will?’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘Do you still miss your cousin?’

  Marian nodded. ‘Yes. Both Mum and I do. The house was always so lively when she was around, I think we both feel a bit lost without her. Still, as Mum says, as long as we’ve got one another and Madeleine’s happy, there’s nothing for us to worry about. I read in the paper that she’s going to a party tomorrow night at the The Roof Gardens. Paul’s book is coming out the day after. I’ve read it, actually – well, most of it. It’s quite good. All about a young boy growing up.’

  Bronwen smiled, and as she gazed at Marian’s small, pale face she wondered how, in this world of egotists and self-seekers, Marian’s selflessness and simplicity had remained so refreshingly and enviably intact. And not for the first time, Bronwen felt a surge of affection for her. There was something special about Marian. Maybe it was her modesty, maybe her intellect, or perhaps it was her extraordinary gift for making people, no matter who they were, feel important. ‘Do you still care for Paul?’ she asked gently.