by Susan Lewis
‘But what are you to her, that she would do as you ask just like that?’
He gave her a smile.
Her lip started to curl. ‘Please don’t tell me … Frank, you can’t. It’s …’
‘You need the boo-kett?’ he offered.
‘If what I’m thinking is true, then yes, I do.’
He started to laugh. ‘I am ’appy to tell you that you are wrong. I know Céline very well, it is a fact, but not in this way you are meaning, because then it would be incest and that would not be good.’
Patsy blinked.
‘Céline is the sister of my father,’ he explained.
Resisting the urge to slap him, she said, in as contemptuous a tone as she could muster, ‘The Comtesse du Petits-Louvens is your aunt.’
He nodded.
‘And you didn’t tell me this before because …?’
He merely shrugged in his typically Gallic way.
‘I want some answers, Frank,’ she said fiercely, ‘and if I don’t start getting them, now, I will be speaking to Claudia when she comes about making some changes around here, and yes that means what you think it does. And don’t try telling yourself she won’t back me, because I know she will.’
Frank’s expression was a little tragic as he said, ‘Please, promise me, for your own sake, that you will not put it to the test.’
Patsy’s jaw dropped in shock.
‘Claudia is an old friend of my family,’ he told her, almost apologetically.
Patsy could only stare at him, so confounded by this emerging net of connections that she began to feel unnervingly entangled, even betrayed. ‘I should feel surprised by that,’ she said coldly, ‘but for some reason I don’t.’
‘I believe that Claudia tell you this herself,’ he confessed. ‘Her husband, before he die, was the partner of Céline’s brother in their company of law. Now, it is the son of Céline and my cousin, Bertrand, who are the senior partners of the firm.’
‘I see,’ she said tightly. ‘And you, Frank? Why aren’t you at the top of this company, where we all know you should be?’ Then with an acid sarcasm, ‘Especially considering your connections.’
He threw out his hands helplessly. ‘I don’t know what to tell you,’ he said, sounding genuinely sorry. ‘I am just Frank, and you are running this company with very good efficiency, I think everyone agree about that, and I am extremely ’appy to work for you.’
Despairing of ever getting anywhere, she began gathering up her files and laptop. ‘You weren’t straight with me about your relationship with the comtesse,’ she reminded him, ‘or about how close you are to Claudia. Those two facts alone prove that I can’t trust you, and if I can’t trust you then life around here could start to get very difficult indeed. Unless I leave, which I think is what this is really all about.’
He could hardly have looked more stunned. ‘This would be the very last thing I am after,’ he assured her. ‘You must surely know that I have une vraie tendresse for you that I have never tried to hide.’
‘No, you’ve used it to try and make a fool of me, and I’m sorry to say you’ve succeeded. But no more, Frank …’
‘Patreesha,’ he interrupted, sounding surprisingly harsh for him, ‘you will listen to me, please. I have great admiration and respect for you, I also have other feelings for you that I think you would rather not hear of now. But that does not stop them existing, nor does it mean that I will allow you to go on thinking bad things of me. You have my complete loyalty and support, and though I will admit there are certain things I find it very difficult to discuss, they do not at all alter who I am.’
‘I don’t see how …’
‘I know you have had your heart broken,’ he said over her, ‘and because of this you are suspicious and mistrustful of others, but you have no need to be that way with me because I have had my heart broken too. It is not a good thing, but it does not make me afraid of you, or of the life that do this to me. Instead it make me value it more. The mask you have seen, he is another part of me that sometimes I need to get me through the day. He is my guardian, my entertainer to distract the world when the other parts of me want to break down. Now I will leave you with this, because I need to go home and shave,’ and making her a courteous little bow he walked out of the room.
‘Alan, your lawyer’s on the line,’ Janet announced through the intercom. ‘Shall I put him on?’
‘Sure,’ Alan replied, and turning away from his computer where he was researching case studies of paternal abandonment, he pressed the connection and picked up the phone. ‘Ken,’ he said with a forced brightness. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine. Bit overworked, but nothing new there. I’ve some bad news, I’m afraid.’
Alan’s face drained of colour. ‘Please tell me Helen’s not going ahead with her threats,’ he said shakily.
‘Not exactly, but it seems she saw Susannah’s interview on GMTV – more to the point, so did her brother.’
Alan’s eyes closed in despair. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of, and why he’d reacted so angrily after Susannah had gone back on her word. They’d made up again now, but clearly the damage had already been done. ‘Have you spoken to either of them?’ he asked.
‘The brother, about ten minutes ago, and it wasn’t pleasant. We could have him arrested for attempted blackmail, but I don’t think you really want to go that route, any more than anyone else.’
‘Absolutely not,’ Alan confirmed.
After a pause Ken said, ‘You’re in a very vulnerable position, now they know you’re involved with Susannah.’
Turning back to the screen, Alan looked at the report and closed his eyes against the anguish building inside him. Far, far more vulnerable than his lawyer realised, but he didn’t need to tell him that yet.
‘So what do I say to the brother when he rings back?’ Ken prompted.
Taking a breath, Alan closed down the screen and said, ‘Ask him if he really wants to do this to his sister’s children, and if he’s prepared to, tell him I am too.’
‘He’ll know you’re bluffing.’
‘But I might not be.’
‘I hope you are.’
‘It’s got to end some time, Ken, and I’m not having Susannah’s life torn apart over something that has nothing to do with her.’
‘I understand what you’re saying, but you have to think of her daughter too. This isn’t …’
‘I do, all the time,’ Alan interrupted. ‘Now, if you’ll forgive me, I have a patient waiting,’ and after promising to call back later in the day, he rang off and speed-dialled Susannah’s mobile.
‘Hi, darling,’ she said, coming cheerily on to the line. ‘To what do I owe this pleasure in the middle of the day?’
With a tender smile he said, ‘I was thinking about you and wanted to hear you. What are you doing?’
‘Right now I’m at a hair salon being videotaped having highlights, and talking to you.’
‘Remember your promise, no names,’ he said softly, even though it was already too late. But there was no point aggravating the situation by putting it out there again and again.
‘Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten. What are you doing?’
‘Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to go up to Derbyshire this weekend to take a look at the set, if it’s allowed. We could stay in a hotel nearby and start familiarising you with the surroundings, as you’re going to be there such a lot.’
‘Oh darling, that is such a wonderful idea, and I’d love to … Can you stop recording a moment, please,’ she said to someone in the background. Then, coming back on the line, ‘I have a double riding lesson on Saturday morning, and costume fittings in the afternoon. Then on Sunday, the main cast is getting together with the writers and producers at the Savoy to talk about interpretation and character development.’
‘I see,’ he said, suppressing a flash of irritation. ‘Well, it was just a thought.’
‘And a really lovely one.
It means so much to me that you’re taking an interest.’
‘I’m trying,’ he confirmed, ‘but already losing you for an entire weekend isn’t making it easy.’
‘I know and I’m sorry. Things will settle into a proper routine once the shooting starts, then we’ll be able to make plans and stick to them.’
Stifling a sigh, he said, ‘Let’s hope so. Anyway, I’ll let you get on with your video. Will I see you this evening?’
‘Unless things change between now and then I should be home around seven.’
After ringing off he sat quietly in his chair, thinking, planning, trying to come to decisions that could cost him so much more than he was willing, or even able, to pay. In the end, pushing everything else aside, he picked up the phone again and called Neve.
She didn’t answer so he left a message. ‘Hi, it’s me,’ he said, ‘I was wondering what you were doing at the weekend. Mum’s going to be quite busy apparently, so I was thinking, if you’re free, I could take some photographs of you to put in a frame for her to keep in Derbyshire. We can make it a surprise if you like, and I wouldn’t mind one or two shots for myself to put up here at the office. Call when you can,’ and ringing off he went back to his study of the short- and long-term effects of paternal abandonment.
‘Oh my God,’ Neve murmured, her cheeks turning crimson as she listened to Alan’s message.
‘What?’ Sasha prompted, sliding into a chair in the dining hall with a tray full of food.
‘He wants to take photos of me,’ Neve told her, feeling a buzzy sort of sensation coming all over her.
Sasha was searching the table for ketchup. After shouting for someone to pass it when they’d finished, she said, ‘What kind of photos?’
‘I don’t know.’ She didn’t want to admit they were for her mother or it might not sound as good. And anyway, it might just be an excuse.
As Sasha fell into conversation with some others at the table, Neve sat staring at her food, not seeing it, only feeling the unsteadying force of a heat growing inside her as she imagined herself striking all sorts of poses. She was showing her legs and her midriff and her cleavage, and pouting into the lens like a model. She began wondering what she’d do if he asked her to take off her top, but as she started to imagine herself doing it the burn between her legs became so intense she had to make herself stop.
‘Aren’t you going to eat that?’ Sasha asked, her fork ready to plunge into Neve’s spag bol.
Neve shook her head. ‘No, you can have it if you like,’ she said.
It wasn’t until much later in the day that she rang Alan back to say she’d love to do some photos. ‘When’s a good time for you?’ she said shyly into his voicemail. ‘I can be free whenever you like.’
Ten minutes later she received a text saying How about Saturday afternoon?
Feeling almost sick with anticipation, she pressed in Cool, then clutched the phone hard as if to stop the text leaving it, even though it had already gone.
All that night she lay awake in her room planning and imagining and becoming so aroused by her thoughts that she felt dizzy and almost queasy with excitement – and shame. It wasn’t as though she’d never touched herself intimately before, because she had, plenty of times, but tonight was the first time she’d allowed herself to do it while thinking of Alan.
When she stopped she wanted to tear at her skin, or rip out her hair as though to get rid of her disgrace, but by morning the burning sensations were back, hotter and more piercing than ever. She could barely look at him as they sat across from one another at breakfast, and wondered how much of what her mother was saying was reaching him, because almost nothing was getting through to her.
Finally she heard Alan say, ‘Well, now you’re free for the afternoon I can tell you what Neve and I were planning to do, so perhaps you can join in.’
Shock and misery drained the colour from Neve’s face as she looked at him, then at her mother. ‘I thought you had costume fittings this afternoon?’ she said dully.
‘It was cancelled just before you came down,’ Susannah told her. Then to Alan, ‘Whatever it is, I’d love to join in. Is it possible that Lola can too?’
‘Absolutely,’ he answered with a laugh. ‘In fact I should have invited her anyway. I was going to take shots of Neve to frame for you to keep in Derbyshire, but now you can be in them too, as can Lola …’
‘And you too!’ Susannah cried, wrapping her arms around him in delight. ‘Oh God, I love you so much for thinking of it. You’re amazing and wonderful and I know I’m embarrassing Neve … Don’t go, darling,’ she begged, trying to grab Neve’s arm. ‘I’m sorry, I just got a bit carried away.’
Neve shrugged her off. ‘I’ve got homework to do,’ she said shortly.
‘What about your breakfast? You haven’t eaten anything yet.’
‘I don’t want any. Actually, I’m not sure I can make the photos either, because Sasha’s asked me to go shopping.’
After she’d gone Susannah turned to Alan in dismay. ‘I think I’ve just stolen her thunder,’ she said quietly.
He nodded a wry agreement. ‘If she’s not down in fifteen minutes I’ll go up and have a chat with her,’ he said.
When Neve failed to show, true to his word he went upstairs to knock on her door. ‘It’s me,’ he called when there was no answer. ‘Can I come in?’
There was the muffled sound of her moving, followed by a tragic, ‘OK.’
He found her sitting on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair, and trying to keep her face averted, but it was evident right away that she’d been crying. He didn’t mention it, only went to turn a chair away from her dressing table to sit facing her.
‘I’m sorry if you’re feeling a bit let down about this afternoon,’ he said, attempting to catch her eye.
‘It’s cool. I don’t mind,’ she answered with a shrug.
‘I think it would have been quite special if it had been just us,’ he told her softly. ‘But there’ll be other times.’
She swallowed hard as her cheeks flamed.
‘We can take photos, or go for a walk, or simply hang out together, here at home,’ he suggested. ‘Would you like that?’
Her chin went up, but she still wouldn’t look at him as she said, ‘If that’s what you want.’
‘It is, very much,’ he whispered, and reaching for her hand he held it between his.
They sat that way for several minutes until finally she brought her eyes to his.
‘Can I have a smile?’ he asked tentatively.
In spite of trying to stop them her lips started to curve.
‘That’s better,’ he told her. ‘And now, how about a kiss?’
Her face flushed beet red as her heart did a violent flip. Did he mean like before? Or … She looked at his lips and felt her head starting to swim.
‘Perhaps you’d like me to kiss you?’ he offered gently.
Her eyes stayed down as she gave a breathy sort of sob and tried to nod.
He leaned forward and she stayed where she was. His lips felt warm and spongy on her own, and wet on the inside as he parted them slightly.
‘There,’ he said, a moment later, ‘does that feel better?’
She swallowed hard.
He got to his feet and slipped a hand under her hair. ‘You can have one of those any time you like,’ he told her softly, ‘but it has to be our secret, OK?’
She looked up at him, and as he smiled she felt as though her heart might explode with fear and elation. ‘OK,’ she whispered.
After he’d gone she went on sitting where she was, still feeling the pressure of his mouth on hers, and the fierce pounding of the beat in her chest that seemed to be getting louder and harder until she couldn’t hear or feel anything else. What had happened was seriously wicked, and she didn’t know whether she wanted to scream or cry or lie down on the bed and curl up and die.
Chapter Seventeen
IT HARDLY SEEMED possible that the day of depart
ure for Derbyshire was coming around so fast. After a month of almost constant press and publicity, and the kind of build-up worthy of a Canaveral launch, Susannah had finally arrived at the point where she was almost as familiar to the public as she was to herself. Already she was finding it virtually impossible to go anywhere without being recognised, and hardly a day passed that she wasn’t featured in at least one newspaper, magazine or TV chat show.
‘It’s amazing,’ she told Patsy as they strolled arm in arm on Clapham Common the day before she was leaving, ‘half the time I’m pinching myself to make sure it’s real, and the other half I’m convinced it’s all about to come crashing down around me.’
Patsy’s smile was wry. ‘I don’t think that’s going to happen,’ she said confidently.
Susannah suppressed a shiver. ‘In retrospect I’d like to have gone in quietly, just in case of implosion,’ she said, ‘but it’s too late now. The cameras start rolling on Monday, and two weeks after that the public will get to see for themselves what all the fuss has been about. I’m absolutely dreading it, because after this sort of hype expectations are going to be soaring beyond any possibility of satisfaction.’
‘How are the scripts looking?’ Pats asked, amused by a jogger who almost hit a post as he recognised Susannah.
‘My answer to that changes by the minute,’ she confessed, ‘which is nerves, of course. I’m in all of the first six episodes, and I’ve got some great storylines. I haven’t told Alan yet that one of them involves seducing two of the judges at a county show in order to make sure Silver qualifies for Horse of the Year.’
‘At the same time, or individually?’
‘Don’t be shocked, but at the same time. I even toss a coin to decide who goes first.’
‘My God! What kind of woman is she?’
‘Sly, conniving, deadly ambitious and sex-mad. And that’s her shy side.’
Laughing, Patsy said, ‘So not exactly casting to type?’
‘No, she’s definitely nothing like me, which is why she’s going to be so fantastic to play. I can really get my teeth into how scheming and bitchy she is, but she has a few redeeming qualities, well, one anyway, she absolutely adores her horse – which reminds me, I’ve only been approached by Playboy to do a centrefold, on horseback, as Lady Godiva.’