Stolen Beginnings

by Susan Lewis

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I keep getting the feeling that someone’s watching me.’

  His expression was immediately serious. ‘What makes you say that?’

  She shrugged. ‘It’s just a feeling I get every now and again. I expect it’s nerves.’

  ‘Well, we don’t want to take any chances, so you’d better lock up and come to lunch with us.’

  She shook her head. ‘It’s all right, Josey and Woody are on their way back. In fact, there they are now, getting out of a taxi, so I’ll be fine. Anyway, as I said, I’m pretty sure I’m imagining it.’

  He still seemed uncertain. ‘I’d feel happier if you were with me.’

  ‘Honestly, Matthew, I’ll be fine.’

  He looked at her for a moment or two, then said, ‘Look, I’m having a drink with my daughter tonight – if she turns up – why don’t you come? You’re about the same age, you might get along together.’

  Dumb pleasure swirled through Marian’s chest. ‘Hazel’s booked me into an aerobics class,’ she mumbled. Then, decidedly more cheerful: ‘But I can always cancel it.’

  ‘You do that. I’ll pick you up here around six.’

  ‘Are you ready yet?’ Stephanie shouted.

  ‘Almost there,’ Matthew called back. ‘Have you got the photographs Judith gave me yesterday?’

  ‘Yes,’ Stephanie said, with exaggerated patience.

  ‘Did you call Bronwen back? She rang while you were in the shower.’

  ‘Yes, I called Bronwen back.’

  ‘Where are my keys?’

  ‘Out here on the table.’

  ‘Then I’m ready to go,’ he grinned, as he came out of the bedroom. His hair was still damp from the shower, and seeing his teeth gleam as white as his shirt, Stephanie thought how unspeakably handsome he was. She ran her eyes over the hard muscles of his forearms and felt a surge of desire.

  ‘I thought there was a taxi waiting,’ he murmured, as she lifted her mouth for a kiss.

  ‘There is.’

  ‘Then pull yourself together, woman, and get down those stairs.’

  Laughing, Stephanie swept a pile of documents into her briefcase, snapped it shut, then waited out in the hall while he locked up.

  Sitting in the taxi on the way to the Savoy, she took out a handful of photographs. These were of some of the actors and actresses they were about to audition. Matthew had chosen them, passed their names on to Judith, the casting director, and now he was going to test them out with some dialogue scenes from the script.

  As he looked over Stephanie’s shoulder at the assortment of faces, he rubbed his hands with glee. ‘The power,’ he grinned, ‘their lives in my hands.’

  ‘You’re sick,’ Stephanie said lightly. ‘I quite like this guy for the Rubin Meyer character.’

  ‘Do you? If we’re going by looks, I prefer this one.’

  But instead of looking at the picture, Stephanie was looking at the way the dark hair curled round his watch-strap and over the backs of his large but slender hands. ‘God, you really turn me on, do you know that?’ she murmured, turning her eyes to his.

  ‘So you were feeling as randy as you looked just now,’ he grinned, and his eyes narrowed as she pressed her hand against his thigh. ‘I’d be careful if I were you,’ he warned.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because the driver’s watching you in the mirror.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, he can’t see anything.’

  ‘But,’ he said, removing her hand, ‘this is hardly the time or the place.’

  A flood of colour suffused Stephanie’s cheeks, and she turned away, angry and embarrassed. A few minutes ticked by, during which she struggled to keep a rein on her tongue, but in the end, unable to stop herself, she hissed, ‘Tell me, Matthew, do you find Marian so easy to resist?’

  ‘I’ll ignore that remark,’ he said. ‘It was unworthy of you.’

  ‘Myself, I’d say it was pretty unworthy of you, staying out until past midnight with her last night. Where were you all that time? You say your daughter didn’t turn up, so what was it, a cosy little dinner for two?’

  ‘Stephanie, leave it, before you say something you’ll regret.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose I would regret it if you were trying to hide something. Are you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So she’s still a virgin, is she?’

  ‘What! Stephanie, you’re in grave danger of pushing me too far over this I thought we’d had it out about Marian. I thought . . .’

  ‘No, Matthew, we didn’t have it out. All we decided, all you decided, was that she had a crush on you. What we never got to the bottom of is what your feelings are for her.’

  ‘For God’s sake, she’s only a . . .’

  ‘Yes? She’s only a what? A kid? She doesn’t look much like one these days though, does she? In fact she looks rather good, rather desirable, wouldn’t you say? Obviously more desirable than me.’

  ‘God, talk about hell hath no fury,’ he muttered. ‘If you must know, I took her to an Italian restaurant in Covent Garden. We ate a meal, we talked . . .’

  ‘What did you talk about?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m not getting into this, Stephanie. Now, either we discuss the casting session coming up, or we continue this journey in silence, the choice is yours.’

  It was obvious from the way she turned back to the window that she had chosen silence, and he sat back in the seat, staring straight ahead and feeling the good humour with which he had begun the day dissolve into discontent.

  Judith was waiting in the foyer of the Savoy, and led them upstairs to a third-floor room. The session went off much as expected, one or two possibles and a dozen nos.

  Still feeling irritable, Matthew snapped at Judith to get her act together over the re-casting of Olivia, then said he was going to meet Bob Fairley, the lighting cameraman, for a drink – if that was all right with Stephanie.

  ‘Perfectly,’ she answered, the pinched corners of her mouth indicating how nettled she still felt – although she knew she was in the wrong.

  ‘Good, then I’ll see you at the office some time this afternoon.’

  ‘Don’t rush,’ she said.

  He shot her a look of pure exasperation, then turned and walked out.

  When Stephanie returned to her office, still seething with fury – as much at herself as at Matthew – she found Marian sorting through a pile of paperwork on her desk. ‘What are you doing?’ she snapped.

  Marian spun round, obviously startled. ‘I was looking for the contracts Hazel gave you to sign yesterday. She needs them to take to the lawyers this afternoon.’

  ‘Can’t she come and find them herself?’

  ‘She would have, but I offered, as I know your desk a little better than she does.’

  Stephanie slung her briefcase on a chair, then looking at her watch, she said, ‘Shouldn’t you be at lunch?’

  ‘I’m still dieting,’ Marian answered, feeling the incongruity of her smile as Stephanie glared at her, her eyes filled with contempt, her mouth a thin hard line.

  Marian shifted uncomfortably under the gaze, but understanding only too well what it was about, she decided that there was no point in running away from it, she must say something. ‘After Bronwen talked to me the Sunday before last,’ she began, ‘I could see straightaway what a fool I’d been making of myself, and I wanted to speak to you then, but everything seemed to sort itself out so I decided there was no point. And then, when everyone started teasing me about the crush I had on Matthew, including you, though it made me feel even more foolish, I was glad because it meant that you and I were friends again. But now I can see that you’re upset again, and obviously I know why. But there isn’t any need to be, Stephanie. Matthew invited me to dinner because he thought it would be nice for me to meet his daughter, someone more or less my own age. Samantha didn’t turn up, so as we were already in the restaurant we had something to eat. I talked most of the evening, bleating on ad nause
um about my mother, because she hasn’t been well lately and I’ve been worried about her. Matthew was kind enough to listen, but I feel embarrassed about it now, and even worse because you’re feeling the way you are when there’s no need to.’

  Marian paused, then grinned disarmingly. ‘I could treat you to some of my amateur psychology here, but I don’t think you’d appreciate it, and besides, I don’t have any wine or cocoa handy. Anyway, it’s none of my business how you . . . Well,’ she shrugged, ‘I just want you to know that I understand why you’re angry with me, and to know that if you no longer want me to work for you, that it will make me very unhappy but I shall understand.’ As she finished, she felt suddenly dizzy, though whether with the relief of getting it off her chest, or with trepidation, she didn’t know.

  Stephanie regarded her closely, her face still solemn. ‘I’ll tell you what, Marian,’ she said at last, ‘I wouldn’t blame Matthew if he was in love with you. Now come here and give me a hug and tell me what a stupid, jealous, nasty old bag I am.’

  ‘You’re a stupid, jealous, nasty old bag,’ Marian said, walking into her embrace, ‘but I love you to bits.’

  ‘And me you,’ Stephanie laughed.

  ‘I bet,’ Marian said, as she was walking out of the door, ‘that you and Matthew had a row this morning.’

  Stephanie nodded.

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘Drinking somewhere with Bob Fairley. He’ll be in later.’

  ‘Then why don’t I cancel your appointments for the afternoon and send him home so that you can make things up?’

  Stephanie seemed hesitant. ‘I don’t think he’ll come. Not after what I said this morning.’

  ‘You leave him to me,’ Marian said, and grinning broadly to cover what she was feeling inside, she walked off down the stairs.

  – 20 –

  Madeleine giggled. Deidre, her dark auburn hair tucked behind her ears, leaned back in her chair and watched her, an indulgent smile hovering about her mouth. Inside, her emotions were in turmoil, but she was sufficiently in control of herself not to let them show.

  ‘This great love of yours is beginning to make me feel old,’ she smiled, when Madeleine finally put the phone down and threw out her arms in an expression of joy. ‘How did he take it?’

  ‘He already knew,’ Madeleine answered, flopping down on Deidre’s leather sofa and putting her feet up. ‘He wondered if you’d like to come out to dinner with us tonight, to celebrate?’

  ‘Love to. Is Harry Freemantle invited?’

  Madeleine pulled a face. ‘Yes.’

  Deidre wondered if it was worth getting to the bottom of Madeleine’s dislike for Paul’s editor, but decided that if she wanted to tell her, she would. The fact that Paul’s book had entered the best-seller lists in its first week was the reason for Madeleine’s elation, though it shouldn’t have come as a surprise, exactly – it had cost her a great deal of money.

  ‘So what do you think?’ Madeleine said, holding out her hand for the umpteenth time so that Deidre could get a good look at the ring.

  ‘I think two things,’ Deidre answered. ‘First, no matter what the size, a diamond can never be vulgar – though yours comes close, madam. Secondly, it’s good to see you. Morocco obviously agreed with you.’

  ‘Loved it. Paul bought me this ring with his advance. It cost him the whole amount. It’s an engagement ring, you know?’

  ‘I did gather that,’ Deidre answered dryly. ‘Congratulations. As you say, we’ll celebrate tonight. Now, how would you like to open up your diary so we can get down to business?’

  While Madeleine leafed through her new leather-bound Mulberry – something else Paul had bought her – Deidre buzzed through to Anne. A few minutes later Anne brought in the newspaper and magazine cuttings for the past week, and left them for Madeleine to peruse.

  Self-admiration came so easily to Madeleine that Deidre might have been appalled if she hadn’t been used to it. Besides, she liked Madeleine better when she was being narcissistic, at least it meant that everything was back to normal. Obviously Paul’s proposal of marriage was just the tonic she’d needed – there hadn’t been a single mention of her aunt and cousin since, no refusal of work, and the haunted, almost frightened expression had gone from her eyes. If anything, she was looking more striking than ever. Deidre immediately despised herself for the feeling of relief this gave her; but there was no getting away from the fact that, when Sergio gave her the word, she would find her task much easier to carry out if she felt that Madeleine had known happiness. She wouldn’t be able to bring herself to do it, she thought, if the rift with Paul had continued. She wondered if it would please Sergio when she told him that Paul and Madeleine were now engaged; he had told her that she must report every development in their relationship to him, and everything she knew or found out about Paul. His request confirmed to Deidre that she had been right all those months ago when she suspected that Sergio knew Paul – but exactly how he knew him, or what their relationship was, he had refused to say.

  ‘Right,’ she said, picking up the booker’s cards in front of her, ‘you’ve got everything up until tomorrow, haven’t you? Good. The next day. In the morning they want you on the ‘This Morning’ programme up at Granada TV. They’ll be asking you about the new perfume, so someone will be there to give you the necessary details. From there Roy will take you into Manchester where you’ll meet up with Paul. He’s doing book-signings at Waterstone’s and, let me see, Smith’s and . . . well, Anne’s got a list of the bookshops. The BBC local news will have their cameras there, I expect Granada will, too. Roy is writing a little speech for you in case you’re asked to say something. In the afternoon Paul is on the radio in Leeds while you’re going off to open a new beauty salon. They’re holding a raffle, I believe, and it’s being fixed for you to win a prize, don’t forget it goes to charity – Roy’s got the name of a couple of local ones. From there both you and Paul go to Birmingham for more book-signings and personal appearances. Local TV news and again newspapers will be there. At ten tomorrow night there’s something happening at Stringfellow’s. Anne’s got the tickets. She’ll pick you both up from Euston station, drive you home to get ready, then on to the club. Don’t insult Peter Stringfellow again – at least, tell Paul not to. He’s a nice chap and can do you a lot of good.’

  ‘Now, on to Friday. An eight o’clock morning flight to Glasgow for you both. There you part company. Paul’s publicist has his schedule, Roy will have yours. It’s mainly fashion stuff. Café-Society and Tatler will have photographers going round with you, Roy will probably have a few more lined up, too. Obviously Phillipa will be with you, so will Helen and her team to sort out your make-up and hair. You’ll catch up with Paul in Edinburgh where you’ll both be on a local chat show. Overnight in Edinburgh, then the big fashion shoot on the Orkneys for the following two days. I’ve spoken to Harry Freemantle and the publicity people at Freemantle’s, and they’re quite happy for Paul to go with you. Phillipa’s arranged to borrow some men’s clothes from the Armani collection, so Paul will also be involved in the shoot – if he wants to be. Again, TV cameras will be there, this time from ‘The Clothes Show’ and a new programme TVS will be launching next month. How are you doing so far?’

  ‘I think I’ve got all that. Does Paul know about everything?’

  ‘Harry should be talking to him this afternoon. When you come back from the Orkneys, you’ll have a day to pack and then you’re both off to Los Angeles. I think the Johnny Carson Show is recorded rather than live, but I’ll check that out before you go. Then you’ve got an audition for a major movie – no, it’s not the starring role. I’ve booked you into the Beverly Hills Hotel for the night, but Shamir has invited you to stay with her. Yes, OK, I’ll cancel the Beverly Hills. Right, you’re then flying to New York where Paul’s publishers and their publicity people will take over. Is that enough to be going on with?’

  Madeleine’s pleasure was more than touching. ‘Can I take all
these cuttings home to show Paul?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course.’ Deidre stood up, pushing her hands into the deep pockets of her black cotton dress. ‘Now, off you go, I’ll see you tonight. Where are we going, by the way?’

  ‘I’ll get Paul to ring and let you know.’

  ‘You’d better, if we want Roy to send along some photographers.’

  Madeleine hooked her bag over her shoulder. It was the same subtle shade of orange as her shoes, belt and the suede panels in her cream-coloured dress.

  ‘Tailored clothes become you, Maddy,’ Deidre remarked.

  ‘Just wait until you see my outfit for tonight,’ Madeleine gushed as they walked out into Anne’s office. ‘It’s white with sequins and things. Skin-tight, I won’t be able to wear a thing underneath. Well, I couldn’t anyway, because the top’s completely see-through and there are great chunks cut out of the hips right round to here.’ Her hands rested on either side of her pubis. ‘It’s something else,’ she sighed.

  ‘Sounds delightful,’ Deidre murmured, then she kissed her on either cheek, and waited until Madeleine was in the lift before turning to Anne. ‘Is Dario around?’

  ‘No. He went off on a shoot at the weekend – I mean, a gun shoot – and hasn’t come back yet.’

  ‘Abysmally hung-over, knowing him. If he does manage to drag himself in at some point, have him come in to see me, will you?’

  ‘Will do. By the way, I still haven’t managed to get an answer from Sergio’s apartment.’

  ‘OK. But keep trying.’

  Back in her office, Deidre closed her eyes and leaned against the door. It was several days now since Sergio had been here, but she was still reeling from the shock of discovering that Dario, the photographer who had been her partner for seven years, was a member of the bottega. Sergio had told her so that she wouldn’t feel so alone in what she was doing. But having Dario to support her made little difference; since she’d agreed to help by taking Madeleine to Italy, she had barely slept or eaten. She tried so hard not to think about it, there was still some time before he needed her, Sergio had told her – but not knowing what was going to happen to Madeleine once she got to Italy was tearing her apart inside. And having to face Madeleine day after day, and pretend that everything was normal, only increased her anguish. But she knew she would do it, not only because those few days he’d spent in London had sharpened her love for him in a way that made it almost too painful to bear, but because he had asked her to marry him and go to live with him in Florence. It was what she had always wanted.