by Susan Lewis
‘But I do not want your pity.’
‘That was not the word I used. And for what it’s worth, as well as my compassion, you have my admiration and respect, but not for the way you’ve dealt with it here. Here, with me, you only had to be honest.’
‘Then you have my sincere apology for not confiding to you the reality of my situation. Now, is that, per’aps, an end to this conversation?’
Her heart jolted. It was so unlike him to be sharp that she was momentarily thrown. ‘OK,’ she said, feeling as though he was taking the upper hand. ‘But it’s not an end to the matter,’ she added, struggling to get it back again.
He looked at her steadily. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I think it is not, but please do not think that you can become involved in the situation, because you cannot,’ and turning away he quickly assumed one of his more charming smiles as the door opened and Michelle Maurice came sailing in, followed by two rather harried-looking directors.
It wasn’t until the middle of the afternoon that Patsy found time to send Susannah the promised email, adding an account of that morning’s unsettling encounter. I don’t understand why he’s being so defensive, she finished. There again, I’m not sure I understand anything about him at all. After sending it, she sat thinking about it for a while, wondering what her next step should be from here, or if she should leave it to him.
In the end, still with nothing resolved in her mind, she was about to close down her email and carry on with some work when she remembered what Susannah was facing this evening. Immediately she began typing another message wishing her good luck, and promising to watch the programme when it aired at nine thirty, French time.
If you get a chance, call me before you go out and we’ll have a chat. Otherwise let’s speak when you get home. Don’t worry about how late it is, I’ll be wanting to hear how you got on. Love Px
Chapter Twenty-Three
MORE THAN ANYTHING Susannah wished it was Patsy’s number she was dialling right now, because she could desperately do with the moral support before facing Michael, but there simply wasn’t the time. He’d rung earlier, suggesting they watch the programme in the screening room at his house, which meant he’d be picking her up from the lodge at seven forty-five. It was now seven thirty.
She was already dressed for the evening, and feeling as nervous as hell, as well as extremely thankful that Polly was nowhere around. She was still waiting for Polly’s big move out, but it hadn’t happened yet, and she guessed it probably wouldn’t now, since the tiresome woman’s contract was due to finish in a couple of weeks. Presumably she was somewhere up at the Centre this evening, and with any luck she’d stay there for transmission, or at least for the next fifteen minutes. Even so, having the lodge to herself wasn’t making it any easier to ring Alan, but she had to, not only because he’d worry, or find it odd if she didn’t, but because she wanted to ask him about Neve.
‘Hi,’ he said cheerily when he answered, ‘I was hoping it would be you. We’re all looking forward to the big event this end. Eight thirty prompt, we’ll be glued to the screen.’
With a smile Susannah said, ‘Where are you watching it?’
‘Actually, I’m home alone. I was going to watch it with Lola and Neve, but Lola’s invited a few of the neighbours in to make a bit of a party of it, so I thought I’d give them some extra room and settle down here with a glass of wine and a TV dinner.’
‘I’m sorry we’re not watching it together,’ she told him, feeling relieved that he had no idea about who would be watching the programme with her. That it was Michael Grafton would be bad enough, in a private screening room at Michael’s house would be totally unacceptable. In some ways she wasn’t even sure about it herself, since it didn’t seem right not to be at the Centre for the first transmission. However, blue unit would still be shooting at that time, so not everyone would be there anyway. And if anyone should ask why she wasn’t … Well, she’d deal with that when, if, the question arose.
‘Have you seen Neve today?’ she asked, wanting to get on to the real reason for her call. ‘She sounded quite down when we spoke earlier, and she hasn’t answered my text asking where she’s watching the programme. I know she’s at Lola’s now, but I just wondered how she’s seemed to you after she vanished off to Melinda’s for the weekend.’
‘I haven’t seen her since,’ he told her, ‘but I’m picking her up from school tomorrow, so maybe I’ll be able to find out more then.’
Susannah looked up as someone jogged past the lodge. Relieved to see an actress she sometimes jogged with herself, and not Polly, she waved as she said, ‘OK, it’s probably just the time of the month, or she’s had some kind of upset at school that she doesn’t want to worry me with, but she doesn’t usually hold back, or go for so long without being in touch, so I’m feeling a bit concerned.’
‘I’m sure there’s no need to be. Kids that age aren’t always as forthcoming as we’d like them to be when it comes to letting parents know where they are, or what they’re up to. But like I said, I’ll have a chat with her tomorrow to see if I can find out if anything’s on her mind.’
As she tried to thank him there was such a painful twisting of guilt in her heart for not being there for Neve, that her words were lost. ‘You’re so good with her,’ she said, finally, ‘actually with us all.’
‘You’re my girls,’ he reminded her softly. ‘You’ve made me happier in these few short months than I ever dared hope to be again.’
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she pressed a hand to her head as she said, ‘I’m glad, because you’ve done the same for us. I’m just sorry we’re having to be apart so much.’
‘Me too. Where are you now?’
‘In my dressing room,’ she lied. ‘The others are waiting for me to join them in the bar, before the transmission, but I want to speak to Lola before I go over there, so I’ll have to ring off now.’
‘OK. Just remember, I love you and I’ll be sitting here at home rooting for you as the programme goes out. Will I speak to you after?’
Her eyes closed. Why hadn’t she thought about that? ‘Probably not immediately,’ she answered. ‘I think Marlene’s going to give some kind of a speech and then no doubt there’ll be the usual party and post-mortem. I’ll call as soon as I can though,’ and after assuring him she loved him too, she rang off, still hearing the words echoing emptily through her mind.
A few minutes later she was talking to Lola, but there was so much noise in the background as the neighbours gathered that it was difficult to make out what she was saying. Clearly it wasn’t the time to ask her about Neve, so she had quick, lively little chats with a chosen few, apparently making their nights now they’d spoken to the star herself, then promising to call Lola later she hung up and tried Neve’s mobile.
After the seventh ring she found herself being diverted to voicemail, so she left an upbeat message saying she was dying to hear what Neve thought of the programme, so please call as soon as it was over to let her know.
By the time she clicked off it was seven forty-five, and picking up her bag and a shawl she went outside to wait in the warm evening air, knowing if she stayed indoors she’d start pacing and agitating and working herself up into the kind of state that wasn’t going to serve her well at all.
Alan’s eyes were unfocused as he held two ready meals in his hands, one fish, one chicken. He wasn’t hungry yet; he wasn’t even thinking about what choice he might make. He was simply starting to act out what he’d told Susannah he would do, as though in some way programmed to follow his own words. In his mind he was picturing Neve’s face, ravaged by tears and saliva, ashen with dread, stricken with confusion. She was sobbing and begging, her hair tumbling in straggly knots around her shoulders, her body a writhing mass of skinny limbs and tender young flesh. He could hear himself soothing her, whispering gently in her ear, telling her not to be afraid. ‘This is what you want,’ he’d murmured. ‘You’ve been thinking about it for a long time, imagining how
it would be. It’s no different to what’s in your head, because really it only exists in your head.’
She didn’t believe him yet, but she would.
‘If you change your thoughts,’ he’d told her softly, ‘you’ll come to realise that everything’s perfectly all right. Something is only wrong if you think it is. So you see, the power lies with you, not me, or your father, or even your mother. It’s all up here in your mind, working its magic like an angel whose only desire is to make your wishes come true. And this is what you’ve wished for, isn’t it?’
By the time Michael arrived to collect Susannah, five minutes late, she was standing in the country lane that skirted the Centre.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, pushing the door open, ‘I got caught up. Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine,’ she answered, inhaling the scent of leather, and him, as she slid into the passenger seat. ‘I was just afraid that Polly might put in an untimely appearance, so I thought it best to wait out here.’
‘Very wise,’ he commented with a smile, and once her belt was fastened he accelerated to drive on.
‘Now here’s my next apology,’ he said, as his phone started to ring. ‘I have to take this call, and I’m afraid it probably won’t be short.’
With a smile she gestured for him to continue, turning to look out at the passing scenery as he spoke to someone called Robert who, from what she could make out, was either in New York or LA.
Sorry that she couldn’t use the time to call Pats, she continued watching the countryside go by, a green and golden blur, speckled with wild flowers and skittering birds. She was wondering if she’d be so worried about Neve, or feeling so guilty about Alan, if she weren’t pregnant, when changing hormones often shifted things out of perspective. She could only hope it was that, because she could hardly bear to think of Neve being unhappy and feeling, for some reason, that she couldn’t confide in her mother. On the other hand, Lola was there, so if anything was wrong Neve would be sure to tell her. Or Alan. In fact, now she came to think of it, there was a chance this crush of hers was starting to take its toll. Unrequited love was difficult at the best of times – at Neve’s age it could seem like the end of the world.
Confident she’d hit on the cause of Neve’s withdrawal, or at least a contributing factor, she made a mental note to mention it to Alan the next time they spoke, then refocused her attention on Michael as he finished his call.
‘There, that’s that sorted,’ he said, removing his earpiece, ‘and just in time, because we’re here,’ and pressing a button on the underside of the rearview mirror, he eased the car to a stop.
Susannah watched as two enormous black iron gates, set in a ten-foot-high wall, began to glide slowly apart, and the vista that opened up beyond caused her heart to stir and swell. Though she’d imagined his home to be impressive, it had never occurred to her that it would be anything like as grand or enchanting as this. As he accelerated to enter the grounds she gazed out at the immaculate lawns either side of the drive, one of which formed part of an intricate knot garden, while the other was divided by stone walkways leading to pergolas, fountains, or pyramid-shaped yews. The colours of the flowers were as vivid as if they’d just been painted in oils, and the sparkle of sunlight on the water seemed to turn it to jewels. At the far end of the drive a magnificent Elizabethan manor with pale limestone walls, long rows of leaded mullion windows and perfectly symmetrical wings sat at the heart of it all.
‘I hardly know what to say,’ she murmured, as they came to a stop on the gravelled forecourt, next to a curious piece of modern art. ‘It’s so beautiful it almost doesn’t seem real, especially in this light.’
With a smile, he got out of the car, and as he came round to open her door a stout, elderly lady appeared in the front porch.
‘I may have forgotten to mention,’ he said, as Susannah stepped out, ‘that some of the staff will be joining us for the viewing. This is Sheila, my housekeeper,’ he went on, as the woman came towards them, all beaming smiles and old-fashioned curls.
‘Welcome,’ she said, squeezing Susannah’s hands in a doughy grasp. ‘We’re considering ourselves very honoured to have you with us tonight. So come on in, the others are all waiting.’
With a humorous glance at Michael, who gestured for her to go ahead, Susannah followed the bustling old lady into a large flagstone hallway that was home to several elaborately carved settles, solid oak beams in its ceiling, and an eclectic collection of paintings that adorned the walls and continued up over a wide wooden staircase. Sheila was already beetling along a sunlit hallway, passing several closed doors until she reached the end and turned a corner.
‘She’s here,’ Susannah heard her announce, and following her around the corner she found herself in an enormous atrium full of succulent plants and sumptuous cane furniture, with a breathtaking view down over the rear gardens to an orchard and a tennis court and a sprawling arrangement of outbuildings that nestled at the foot of the surrounding hills.
Smiling at the faces turned towards her, she shook their hands as Sheila introduced them: Bob, the gamekeeper; Millie, the cleaner; Greville, the chief gardener; Paulette, Millie’s daughter who helped out when Mr Grafton hosted special functions; and Binkie, the children’s old nanny, who still had to put them in their places now and again, and that went for her older charges too, who apparently included Michael and his brother, James.
‘I live in one of the cottages next to the stables now,’ she told Susannah, her rheumy green eyes and loose, crinkled cheeks seeming to pool and ripple as she spoke. ‘You can’t see it from here, but it’s not far to walk, and the children are forever over there plaguing the life out of me about something or another. Never get a minute to myself when they’re around, so I don’t.’
Warming to the fondness in her tone, Susannah began asking more about the children, while Michael passed her a glass of champagne and after making sure everyone else had one, he proposed a toast to her and the programme.
As they all drank she forced down a sip herself, not enjoying the reminder of her condition and finding it particularly irksome that it should be champagne that made her feel the worst. After a little more small talk with the staff, Michael announced that they should all go next door now, and taking their glasses with them everyone shuffled off through a set of double doors that Greville had thrown open into what turned out to be a small and very sumptuously furnished media room. There were at least half a dozen deep, plum-coloured sofas and even more matching armchairs all turned towards a large white screen that wouldn’t have looked entirely lost in an arthouse cinema. There were any number of TV monitors, speakers and pieces of hi-tech paraphernalia stacked against the back wall, and more refreshments laid out on a table just behind the door.
At the flick of a switch the screen came to life, showing the closing credits of the programme that was airing immediately before Larkspur.
‘Oh, we’re just in time,’ Sheila declared, slumping down in one of the chairs. ‘I’m sorted, come on the rest of you, you don’t want to miss the start.’
Michael directed Susannah to one of the sofas, and after closing the door and dimming the lights he sat down next to her, stretching out his long legs and resting an arm along the back, and managing to look as at home in this small theatre as any man might in front of his own TV.
Feeling somewhat disoriented, yet enjoying the experience, she put her drink down on the glass table beside her and stretched out her legs too. As the commercials played she found herself thinking of Alan again, and Neve, and how unbalanced everything was feeling at home. Then realising Michael was watching her, she turned to him and smiled in an eager, nervous sort of way, as though she were thinking of the programme and nothing else. The opening titles of Larkspur were starting to roll, and as they both turned to the screen the tremendous opening shot of Silver galloping out of the forest and thundering across the hillside caused a murmur to thread around the room. Then her own face was filling the frame, haughty
beyond measure as she gazed out at Marianne’s magnificent estate. The shot changed and there was the valley in all its Avalonian glory, seeming almost like an apparition in a swathe of silvery mist.
As the episode played out she found her mind wandering again, back to Alan and Neve, Lola, Pats, then returning here to Michael. She was becoming increasingly aware of him sitting next to her and wondered if he was paying as much attention to the programme as he seemed to be. He’d seen it often enough by now, so surely he was no more absorbed by it than she was, but of course they must pretend to be. Everyone around them appeared engrossed, sometimes tutting or even sighing at appropriate moments.
It seemed an eternity, and yet no time at all, before the end credits were rolling. Michael’s staff applauded heartily and he joined in. Smiling, Susannah stood up and took a bow, feeling suddenly light-hearted and in the mood for a party. A milestone had been reached. The first episode had finally been played into millions of homes around the nation – in fact the world, thanks to Sky. People would be making up their own minds now whether to watch again, and everyone in the room was in no doubt about what they would decide.
‘Are you ready for dinner?’ Michael asked quietly.
Susannah smiled, and nodded, even though she had no appetite at all.
‘We can either eat here,’ he told her, ‘or I’ve reserved a table at a restaurant a few miles away.’
Feeling a light going out inside her as she realised it might be better to make her dreaded confession here, rather than in a public place, she said, ‘If it’s not too much trouble, why don’t we stay here?’
‘No trouble,’ Sheila assured her. ‘I can have something dished up in no time at all.’
‘Actually, why don’t you take the rest of the evening off,’ Michael suggested kindly. ‘I can always throw a salad together, and I’m sure you’ve some cold chicken or smoked salmon tucked away somewhere.’
‘I’ll put it all out before I leave,’ she informed him, ‘and I made a peach crumble earlier so I’ll put that out too. Lovely to meet you, Susannah. I think you’re splendid in the programme. You did a wonderful job with that nasty little minx Marianne. I’m going to love hating her, so I am.’