Obsession

by Susan Lewis

  ‘What about Cristos? How’s he handling it? He rang and left a message earlier, by the way. Said could you remember to take the music cassette down with you?’

  ‘Oh, sure,’ Corrie said, glancing at the walkman on her desk. On it was a copy of the composer’s tape for Past Lives Present. ‘Cristos is well used to people trying to dig into his life,’ she went on, ‘and he hates it. He’s just employed an army of security guards to keep the press at bay while he’s shooting. And who can blame him when they keep popping up in shot?’

  ‘So, is it serious between you two?’ Alan enquired, a little too casually Corrie thought. ‘Are you going to give up all this and go to the States?’

  ‘Are you trying get a scoop here, Alan Fox?’ she teased. ‘Yes, you are, so let’s change the subject, because I want to know if you’ve looked at the treatments I gave you last week.’

  ‘I have,’ he said. ‘And if you’re staying in good old Blighty then I’m with you all the way. You don’t want to go public with them yet though?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, you might find this hard to believe, but you can trust me. I’d like to be there with you if you pull it off – and I reckon you will.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Corrie said, meaning it.

  This conversation with Alan Fox took place on one of the rare occasions Corrie was at the office, for she was spending as much time as she could in Wiltshire. With Annalise still at home recovering from her ordeal the other producers were lining up to take over the available programme slots, and seeing this lull in her schedule as a good opportunity to look further into the possibilities of making three or four special drama-documentaries a year, under the TW banner, Corrie spent all the hours she could observing Cristos and discussing in the minutest of detail how he approached the dramatization of a factual story. Fearing that the two of them didn’t have a future together meant that Corrie’s ambitions were once again of prime importance to her – not that they had ever ceased to matter, but now she needed them desperately to fill the terrible void there would be in her life once he had returned to Los Angeles. It was all too tempting to fantasize about what she would do were he to ask her to go with him, but in her heart she knew he wouldn’t, just as she knew that even if he were to ask she wouldn’t go. She hated herself for thinking she might feel differently were he to ask her to marry him, it seemed so parochial and childishly idealistic, but to go and just live with him in a place that she disliked as much as Los Angeles, where she would have no status other than as his girlfriend – and a Hollywood girlfriend at that – was just not what Corrie wanted. But he was asking her to do neither, so rather than dwell on things that would never be, Corrie forced herself to concentrate on what she really was going to do with her life.

  Her ultimate goal now was not only to take over TW herself – though she accepted, with her lack of experience, that that couldn’t happen for some time – but to get Luke out so that she could eventually run down the current affairs side of the company and concentrate on hard hitting documentaries.

  The knowledge she was gaining from Cristos was invaluable and though he didn’t actually know the full extent of her ambitions, her desire to do something worthwhile with the air time available to her he supported wholeheartedly. He even started to ask her opinions regarding his own movie, not because he was uncertain himself, but to see what she would come up with and then tell her why her suggestions would or wouldn’t work. He taught her so much, like the importance of sound and when and when not to use effects or music; he showed her all kinds of tricks in the rough edit, like what impact it could have to hold onto a shot just a few frames longer or the power of a sudden close up, and then he gave her a portable video camera so that she could try the fly on the wall technique for herself. With regard to budgeting he put her in the hands of his line-producers and accountants, who had set up office in the Shakespeare Room at the front of the Manor House, where Cristos would often find her at the end of the day with her eyes rolling in their sockets at the incredible sums of money being administered.

  When Corrie was in London, which she invariably was for transmission and production meetings, she spent her evenings with Phillip and Annalise. By inviting her to his Chelsea home on the evenings Octavia wasn’t there, or taking her and Annalise to restaurants or the cinema, Phillip was trying to draw Corrie into his family at the same time as getting Annalise used to the idea of her being there. And in its way it seemed to be working, Corrie reflected with a tenderness bordering on sadness. Though she was growing increasingly fond of her father and half-sister, she was under no illusion as to exactly what role she would be expected to play in their lives. Already they were coming to depend on her in a way she found touching in its genuine desire for approval, but the burden of responsibility it carried, at times weighed heavily.

  Phillip himself seemed so desperate to make her his friend that he even confided to her that he was in love with his secretary, thinking that a shared secret might bring them closer together. The worst part of that was how voraciously his eyes had searched Corrie’s when he made his confession, making Corrie feel as though he would give Pam up if she asked it. Of course she didn’t ask it, and to her relief discovered that she was wrong in thinking that, since Phillip’s own relief to discover that Corrie was pleased for him resulted in the added confession that he was glad his affair hadn’t brought about their first argument, because, as her father, he really would have had to overrule her where Pam was concerned. That made Corrie smile, and marvel all over again at how two such different men lived inside one body. If only he could bring some of the dynamism and confidence he exuded in the board room – and obviously in his feelings for Pam too – into his family life! But while he was still with Octavia there seemed little chance of that happening, and he wouldn’t leave Octavia until he was certain Annalise was well enough to cope with the divorce.

  Inevitably, when the subject of Annalise’s mental condition came round, so too did the subject of Luke. But every time Corrie asked Phillip to tell her what it was he’d been about to confide to her that night at the Ritz, Phillip would simply dismiss it with a wave of his hand, saying that was all in the past and really didn’t matter anymore. Corrie’s frustration at that was extreme, since she knew only too well that Luke was very far from being in the past.

  Though Annalise appeared a little more stable than she had before going to Scotland, there was no doubt in Corrie’s mind that she was starting to pine for Luke. She would never come right out and admit it, but it showed in her eyes every time his name was mentioned, and the fact that after the two weeks he’d said he’d be away Luke had stopped ringing in to the office, meaning that no one was in contact with him now, all too often distressed Annalise to the point of hysteria. Her outbursts were always over trivial things, and Luke’s name never passed her lips, but Corrie wasn’t deceived.

  But it wasn’t only the effect Luke was still having on Annalise that told Corrie they were still a long way from being rid of him, it was the effect his disappearance was having on her. She tried hard not to think about it, but his absence, coupled now with his silence, was starting to take on all the menace of a deadly snake coiling itself ready to strike. And the feeling that she herself was his target became even more intense when during his third week of absence the telephone calls started. Most often they were late at night, and there was no way of knowing who they were from, but even when she wasn’t there and came to play back her messages later, Corrie knew the calls were from him. There was never anything more than silence, not even a whisper of breath, but those few seconds of blank tape were as unnerving as if he were actually telling her he was coming for her. She tried to put her unease down to paranoia, knowing only too well how many cranks were around, but as time passed and the telephone calls continued she started to become so haunted by the echo of the last words Luke had spoken to her, it was as though he were standing close behind her, whispering in her ear that she would come to him in the end, that
she would marry him. And just as insanity seemed to have put its blemish on his mind, so fear started to take a hold on Corrie’s. He was out there somewhere, watching her, she could feel it, so strongly at times that she would find herself spinning round in the street to catch him. Of course there was never anyone there, except maybe the press, and Corrie was starting to become profoundly glad of their presence.

  She told no one about it, not even Cristos. They’d already fought over Luke more than once, since Cristos was of the opinion that she should leave TW, start up her own company and get right away from the man. Corrie had explained about Annalise and Phillip then, admitting to who they really were so that Cristos would understand why she couldn’t just abandon them. She told him nothing of the things Luke had said to her, neither did she tell him about her earlier suspicions of Luke being involved in the prostitutes’ killings. Cristos had enough on his mind trying to complete the movie, and Corrie was determined that she would find a way of handling this without him, since once he had gone she really would be on her own.

  It was the day before Cristos was due to fly back to Los Angeles, as Corrie and Jeannie were strolling through Castle Combe together heading for the village post office, that things finally started to draw to a head. The fog had long since been blown away by high winds, which had given Cristos endless continuity nightmares, but somehow they had got through on schedule and now the unit were finishing their last stunt sequence on the weir back in the hotel grounds.

  The afternoon was so dull that as the clouds thickened overhead it was as though night were drawing in. Nevertheless Corrie could see the humpback bridge quite clearly from where she was, just as clearly as she could see the lone figure standing on it. Her mind was so full of how she was going to find the courage to handle Cristos’s departure the next day, that it wasn’t until Jeannie held up a postcard to point something out to Corrie, and Corrie looked at it, that she suddenly registered who it was standing on the bridge.

  Her head snapped up as she looked ahead again.

  ‘Something wrong?’ Jeannie said, looking up at her.

  Corrie’s eyes were still fixed on the bridge.

  ‘You in pain or something?’ Jeannie said, putting a hand on Corrie’s arm. ‘Your face is real pale.’

  ‘No, no, I’m fine,’ Corrie said, still unable to take her eyes from the bridge.

  Looking in the same direction, Jeannie said, ‘What is it? Did you see something?’ She chuckled. ‘Like a ghost?’

  Corrie’s eyes darted to Jeannie, then forcing herself to smile she said, ‘Let’s turn back now, Jeannie.’

  Jeannie shrugged. ‘OK by me. I just want to call in here and post my cards back home. ’Course, I’ll be back before them now, but what the hell … Coming in?’

  ‘No. No, I’ll wait here,’ Corrie said, once again turning her eyes to the bridge.

  While Jeannie was inside the Post Office Corrie found herself moving further down the street, as though the bridge were some kind of magnet she just couldn’t resist. He’d been there, she knew it, she’d seen him with her own eyes, but he’d vanished, like an apparition he’d just melted into thin air. Except he couldn’t have, it just wasn’t possible, so he had to be there somewhere, lurking in the shadows, pressing himself hard into the bushes, or… She swung round, certain she’d heard a footstep behind her, but the street was empty.

  She was almost on the bridge now and the air had become so still it was as though even the threatening storm had been paralysed by the atmosphere of menace. A raven suddenly soared up from the river bank, flapping its wings and screeching a raucous cry. Corrie’s heart leapt to her throat, but after drawing back in alarm, she found herself once again inching towards the parapet.

  As she peered over the edge all she saw was her own distorted reflection in the rushing current, but he was here, somewhere, she could feel it as acutely as if he were touching her.

  ‘Corrie!’

  She spun round, her hand flying to her heart. ‘Oh, Jeannie!’ she cried, ‘you gave me the fright of my life.’

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Jeannie shrugged, but looking at Corrie curiously she added, ‘you’re real on edge today …’

  ‘I know. It’s probably because tomorrow’s coming round so quickly,’ and taking Jeannie’s arm Corrie turned her back up the street towards the Market Cross.

  It wasn’t until they were outside the Old Rectory, just before the road started to curve to the left, that Corrie nerved herself to glance back. Still the bridge was empty. But she hadn’t been seeing things, she was certain of that. Luke Fitzpatrick had been standing there on that bridge.

  Twenty minutes later Corrie was back in Cristos’s room, trying to sort out what she should wear for the end of shoot party that night when the telephone rang. Even though she’d half been expecting it to, it still made her jump.

  Picking up the receiver, and saying nothing herself, Corrie waited for someone to speak. No one did.

  ‘Luke,’ she said into the silence. ‘Luke, I know it’s you.’ She waited, but the silence just stretched on. ‘Luke!’ she cried. ‘Say something, for God’s sake. I know it’s you. I saw you, do you hear me? Now what do you want?’

  Still there was nothing – then suddenly she tensed as she thought she heard him breathe. She was about to speak again, when the voice at the other end said,

  ‘Stay away from your father, Corrie.’

  Corrie plucked the receiver from her ear, looking at it as if it were playing her some kind of trick. Then speaking into it, she said, ‘What?’

  ‘I’m telling you, you be staying away from your father now.’

  ‘Luke! What are you talking about?’

  ‘Ask him, Corrie. Ask him who was the last person to be seeing those hookers alive?’

  ‘For God’s sake, Luke! What are you talking about?’

  ‘Don’t you be getting into his bed, now, do you hear me? You just be staying away from him.’

  ‘Luke!’ she screamed, dashing a hand to her head. ‘He’s my father! How the hell can you think …’

  ‘To be sure, he’s your father. And we don’t want him to be doing to you what he’s been doing to Annalise, now, do we?’

  For a moment Corrie felt like she was losing her mind. ‘Luke, you’re not making any sense,’ she cried. ‘What do you mean, what he’s been …’

  ‘I’ll be here to protect you, Corrie. I’ll be waiting, and you’ll be coming to me soon now … Very soon,’ and the line went dead.

  Corrie was in such a state of agitation as she put the phone down that she could hardly begin to think straight. But she must make herself! She had to get a grip on this panic and control it! But for God’s sake what had he meant about Phillip? Why the hell should he think she would go to her own father’s bed? She flinched at the repulsion she felt. But what about the prostitutes? Annalise? What did he mean …?

  The telephone was in Corrie’s hand almost before she knew it. ‘Phillip!’ she gasped when he answered. ‘It’s me, Corrie!’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he cried, reacting instantly to the distress in her voice. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I’ve heard from Luke. Where’s Annalise?’

  ‘Octavia’s just taken her home to pick up some more clothes. Corrie, what’s going on? What did he want?’

  ‘He wanted …’ Should she tell, him? What should she do? But the words were spilling from her mouth almost before she knew it. ‘He wanted me to stay away from you,’ she blurted.

  ‘What!’

  ‘He told me … Oh God, Phillip … He told me to ask you who was the last person to see the prostitutes alive. Why did he say that? What do you know, Phillip? What is going on?’

  ‘Oh, Jesus Christ!’ Phillip groaned. ‘I thought it was over. I thought he would leave me alone now. I went to the police, I told them everything I know, but I … Oh, Corrie. This is so difficult to explain down the phone.’

  ‘Then I’m coming back to London. Now!’

  ‘No
, don’t do that. This is your last night with Cristos, and what I have to tell you can wait. I promise you it can.’

  ‘Then explain to me why Luke implied that you were doing things to Annalise …’

  ‘Oh Corrie, I don’t know what’s going on, I swear to you, I don’t, but you’re not the only one who’s heard from him. He was here the other day. I wasn’t going to tell you, I couldn’t it was too … it was too ugly. But he came when Annalise was out with her mother and he accused me … Oh Corrie, I never wanted to tell you this … He accused me of … of sleeping with Annalise. I couldn’t believe what he was saying … I don’t understand it! It’s all lies, Corrie …’

  ‘Then why is he doing this? You must know, Phillip.’

  ‘But I don’t! God knows I wish I did.’

  Holding a hand to her head Corrie tried to make herself think rationally. Then from nowhere she suddenly remembered Siobhan.

  ‘Yes, I’ve heard the name,’ Phillip said, ‘but only from Luke. He kept mumbling something about someone called Siobhan when he was here the other day.’

  ‘But you don’t know who she is?’

  ‘No. I’d never heard of her until then.’

  ‘When he came to you the other day, did he tell you where he’d been all this time?’

  ‘No. But I didn’t ask. Should I have? Yes, yes of course I should. Damn it!’

  ‘Do you know where he is now?’

  ‘No. But I can try to find out. I’ll call his home, I’ll go round there …’

  Corrie shook her head. ‘No, he’s not there. He’s here. I’ve seen him.’

  ‘You’ve seen him? I thought you said he’d telephoned you?’

  ‘Yes he did. After. And he said …’ Her voice trailed off as she started to feel herself become almost mesmerized by the memory of his words … ‘He said that I’d be going to him, very soon.’

  Too upset to hear the puzzlement in her voice Phillip shouted, ‘Don’t you go, Corrie! You stay away from him, do you hear me? I’m speaking as your father now, and you’ll do as I say. You stay right there with Cristos and don’t you move. If Fitzpatrick is there in Castle Combe he can’t touch you while you’re with Cristos. Are you listening to me?’