Living Together

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘I wish you agreed to everything that easily,’ he taunted before going into his room, closing the door after him.

  Helen lingered in her bath, waiting until she was sure Leon must have left before emerging from her bedroom. She had been right to fear her growing feelings for Leon; the love was already too strong for her to do anything about it. She only hoped he had been teasing her about marriage and children—because there was still something about her he didn’t know, something she didn’t want him to know!

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  MR WALTERS was furious with Helen when she told him today was to be her last day at work, telling her she might as well clear her desk and leave now. She didn’t argue with him, but did as he said.

  ‘Does your leaving have anything to do with your Leon Masters look-alike?’ Sally whispered across the desk. ‘Larry, or whatever his name is.’

  If only Sally knew it wasn’t a look-alike at all! ‘Yes,’ Helen whispered back, conscious of the angry glares she was receiving from Mr Walters.

  ‘Are you getting married?’

  Helen smile contained a certain amount of irony. Poor Sally could only think in terms of love and marriage, whereas she didn’t even want those things mentioned, and neither did Leon, she felt sure. ‘Not quite,’ she replied truthfully.

  ‘What do—Oh!’ Sally blushed. ‘Oh well, I don’t blame you. He’s gorgeous.’

  ‘Thanks, Sally,’ Helen smiled gratefully. ‘And good luck with Steve and the move to Australia.’

  Mr Walters wished her a stiff unfriendly goodbye before she walked out into the sunshine. It felt strange to be out of a job, somehow making her more dependent on Leon. Now she would only have him and possibly Max for company. It was because this made her feel slightly trapped that she telephoned Jenny and invited her out to lunch.

  They met at a restaurant convenient to Jenny. ‘So he’s made you pack up your job,’ Jenny said slowly. ‘Are you sure that’s a good thing?’

  Helen shrugged. ‘It’s what Leon wants.’

  ’And what do you want?’

  ‘Whatever he wants,’ Helen admitted.

  Jenny gave her a sharp look. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means—it means I just want what he wants. He makes me feel alive, Jen, and beautiful.’ Helen’s eyes glowed.

  ‘You love him,’ Jenny said dazedly.

  ‘Incredible, isn’t it? But even knowing that doesn’t change anything between us.’ Helen’s face was shadowed. ‘Last night, and this morning for that matter, he would have made love to me if I’d just said the word. But I couldn’t let him. It’s as if I have a sickness, and no matter how much I want to get better my mind just won’t let me.’

  ‘You have plenty of time.’

  ‘That’s what Leon says. But I don’t feel I’m being fair to him. What if I can never…I don’t think Leon will be able to be patient for long, no matter what he says.’

  Jenny smiled. ‘You just have to relax and let things happen.’

  ‘I can’t relax with him, he isn’t the sort of man to make you feel that way. He sends out sexual vibrations, emits this aura…It’s very hard to resist.’

  ‘Then don’t,’ Jenny advised practically.

  ‘I have the feeling that if I ever did give in to him I’d never want to break away again.’

  ‘You don’t seem to be trying very hard to get away,’ her cousin said dryly.

  Helen grinned. ‘I know. I like feeling alive. I didn’t think I would, but I do.’

  ‘I can see the difference in you.’

  ‘Not too much of a change, I hope.’

  ‘Only for the better. God, look at the time!’ Jenny groaned. ‘Brent will have my hide if I’m late. He has an important meeting this afternoon he wants me to sit in on. You’ll call me later in the week?’

  ‘For the next thrilling instalment?’ Helen teased.

  Jenny laughed. ‘I hope so!’

  Helen spent a lazy afternoon browsing around the shops, treating herself to a couple of new dresses, a violet one that matched the colour of her eyes, and a pale lemon creation that made her skin appear more fragile and pale than usual.

  It was quite late when she got back to Leon’s apartment with her parcels, and she knew by the heavy cheroot smoke that he was already home.

  She hadn’t even had time to put down her parcels before Leon stormed out of the lounge, and stormed was the appropriate word—he looked furious. ‘Where the hell have you been all day?’ he demanded.

  Helen frowned. ‘Don’t you know it’s polite to say hello when someone comes in?’

  He took her shoulders in ruthless hands and shook her hard. ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘Why?’

  Her calm attitude only seemed to incense him more. ‘Why?’ he snapped. ‘Because I came home early, in time to have lunch with you, and you weren’t here. I called the travel agency and that poker-faced manager told me you’d been and gone. I called Jenny’s flat and there was no answer. I even telephoned the television studio and Brent told me Jenny was out at lunch. When I called again later they said Brent and his secretary were both out.’

  ‘They were going to some meeting or other,’ Helen confirmed dazedly, unable to fathom his mood. Okay, so she had been unattainable, but that was no reason for him to be in this temper.

  ‘So you have seen Jenny,’ he pounced.

  ‘I was the person she was lunching with.’

  ‘Where have you been since then?’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, Leon!’ she said impatiently. ‘Don’t these parcels tell you anything?’

  He seemed to notice them for the first time. ‘You’ve been shopping?’

  ‘I would have thought that was obvious. Here,’ she handed him one of the parcels, ‘I bought you a present.’

  That seemed to stop him in his tracks. ‘You bought me a present?’ He seemed to have trouble articulating.

  ‘Yes.’ She moved into the lounge, shedding her jacket on the way.

  ‘What is it?’ Leon stared down at the parcel in his hand.

  ‘Open it and see.’

  ‘I’ve never had a woman buy me presents before,’ he said roughly.

  ‘Present,’ she corrected. ‘After the way you just shouted at me I’m not sure there’ll ever be another one.’

  Leon clicked open the lid of the small square box, lifting out the gold medallion suspended on a thick gold chunky chain. He slid it over his golden hair, unbuttoning several more buttons of his shirt so that the medallion could be seen nestling among the darker blond hair on his chest.

  ‘There’s an inscription,’ Helen told him stiffly. The medallion looked strangely intimate nestling against him like that, making her feel as if she almost touched him herself.

  Leon turned the medallion over and read the two words engraved there. ‘Do you mean it?’ he asked huskily.

  She now regretted her impulse. ‘Love, Helen’, she had had engraved there, and even if she herself suspected it were true she should not have given this man that power over her. Her shrug was deliberately casual. ‘It was just an impulse,’ she told him truthfully.

  ‘But “Love"?’ he probed.

  ‘Well, it wouldn’t have looked very nice if I’d just put “From Helen” on it, not after all you’re trying to do for me.’

  ‘I see.’ He turned away. ‘Thank you,’ he added coldly. Things fell into an uneasy routine for them after that. With Leon out at work all day Helen was left very much on her own. They spent their evenings talking of impersonal things, the only contact they made with each other being the perfunctory kiss on the lips Leon gave her in the mornings when he left and in the evenings when he returned.

  The bathroom scene had never been repeated; Helen always made sure that it was unoccupied before she went in. Things were very impersonal between Leon and herself, so impersonal that they might well have been two old friends just spending a few days together—and Helen hated it! Whether Leon was doing it deliberately or simply didn’
t care for her any more she didn’t know; what she did know was that she was so aware of him now she was at fever pitch.

  But he no longer seemed interested in her sexually, often working late at a moment’s notice. They had been living together almost two weeks when he telephoned once again to say he would be late.

  ‘I know it’s Max’s night off,’ he continued, ‘but I’m sure if you look in the refrigerator you’ll find something to make up a meal.’

  She knew she would, because she had decided to cook him a meal tonight! ‘Do you have to work?’ she asked with a sigh.

  ‘I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. Use your common sense, Helen,’ he told her impatiently. ‘I shouldn’t be too late, and you can always watch television.’

  ‘I don’t want to watch television,’ she said petulantly. ‘I want to be with you.’

  ‘Why this sudden desire for my company?’ he drawled mockingly. ‘You hardly notice I’m there even when I do come home.’

  She didn’t notice anything else! ‘You know that isn’t true,’ she protested.

  ‘Don’t delude yourself it’s my company you want, Helen,’ he snapped. ‘Why not go and see Jenny?’

  ‘She’s going out.’

  ‘I see you already checked,’ he taunted.

  ‘I did not! I was talking to her earlier today and she happened to mention that she and Matt were going to a party.’

  ‘Probably Suzanne’s,’ he muttered.

  ‘Why, yes.’ She sounded surprised. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘I was invited.’

  ‘And I suppose my being here stopped you accepting,’ Helen said almost tearfully.

  ‘Don’t be so damned—’

  ‘Or is that where you’re really going?’ she interrupted shrilly. ‘I don’t suppose you’re working at all, are you? You’re going to this party,’ she accused heatedly.

  ‘Helen—’

  ‘Don’t take that patronising tone with me!’ She was almost hysterical now, the thought of the intimate dinner for two she had been going to prepare like a barb in her thigh. Especially with the way she had decided the evening would end. ‘If you want to go to a party then just say so. But don’t lie to me, Leon, don’t ever lie to me.’

  ‘Will you—’

  ‘I know you think I’ve taken you away from all your friends,’ she continued. ‘But the two of us living together was your idea. You’re at liberty to back out any time you want to. I won’t—’

  ‘Have you been drinking?’ Leon snapped suspiciously.

  ‘No, of course I haven’t!’ she replied indignantly.

  ‘Well, it damn well sounds like it to me. I’m working, Helen, not going to a party. And if you don’t believe me come down here and see for yourself.’

  She swallowed hard, her anger starting to fade. ‘You really aren’t going to Suzanne’s party?’

  ’If I were I’d tell you. Are you jealous, Helen?’ he queried softly, almost tentatively.

  ‘No, of course—Yes!’ she admitted in a choked voice. ‘Yes, I’m jealous, Leon,’ she spoke so softly he must hardly have been able to hear her. ‘I—I want you to come home.’

  He drew a ragged breath. ‘Just exactly what does that mean?’

  ‘You know, Leon!’

  ‘I want to hear you say it.’

  ‘I want— No! I can’t, Leon, I can’t say it!’ she cried her anguish.

  ‘Then I have work to do,’ he told her coldly before slamming down the receiver.

  Helen did the same. Swine! Dirty, rotten, lousy—He was doing this on purpose! He wouldn’t ask her, she would have to ask him, and he was tormenting her with her own desire. She hated him, damn him!

  She went into the kitchen, taking the duck out of the oven and pushing the tin uninterestedly on to a work top. Another half an hour and the meal would have been cooked to perfection, tender duck served on a bed of rice followed by lemon soufflé. Now it was all ruined, the whole evening ruined. She sat down on one of the bar stools and sobbed her heart out, feeling as if the frustration of the last weeks would never fade.

  She hurriedly wiped the tears away as she heard the key in the lock, smoothing down her hair before going out to greet Leon. She would act cool, show him he didn’t matter to her.

  It wasn’t until she saw the beautiful blonde woman letting herself into the apartment with a key that she actually realised Leon couldn’t possibly have got back from the studio so quickly, not even if he had left immediately on replacing the receiver, which wasn’t very likely, the mood he had been in.

  The two women eyed each other silently for several long seconds. Blue eyes clashed with violet and there was challenge in both. Helen recognised the woman as the female star in Leon’s last film, Sharon Melcliffe. She was tall and beautiful and totally sure of herself, making Helen feel drab and inconspicuous. She was still in cream corduroys and blouse, her face bare of make-up, just on her way to get ready, when Leon’s call had interrupted her. It hadn’t seemed worth the effort when he had said he wouldn’t be coming home, but Helen wished now she had taken the trouble to smarten herself up, especially as Sharon Melcliffe looked so chic in a daring black silk dress, the clinging material revealing that she wore little beneath.

  ‘Who are you?’ the woman drawled in a bored voice.

  Helen’s hackles rose. ‘I was just about to ask you the same question,’ she lied, knowing perfectly well who this woman was. But why did she have a key to Leon’s apartment? The answer seemed all too obvious.

  The actress moved forward with a catlike grace, smiling as she looked about the lounge. ‘Everything is just as I remember it,’ she purred, her sharp blue eyes turning to look at Helen. ‘Except you,’ she snapped. ‘You certainly weren’t here the last time I was here with Leon.’

  ‘I should hope not,’ Helen said dryly. So much for Leon’s assertion that no other woman had lived here with him!

  ‘I don’t suppose you could be a replacement for Max?’ She arched one plucked blonde eyebrow.

  ‘I don’t suppose I could,’ Helen agreed coldly.

  ‘I thought not. I couldn’t see him leaving Leon. Then where is the old devil—ah, I remember,’ the actress smiled. ‘It’s his night off.’

  ‘Right again,’ Helen nodded.

  ‘Of course, Leon and I usually ate out that night. Where is Leon?’

  ’Working,’ Helen told the other woman through stiff lips.

  ‘Oh yes?’ Sharon Melcliffe scorned. ‘And you believe him, I suppose.’

  Helen’s cheeks flamed with anger. ‘He just called from the studio.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure he did—before he left for some party or other. And if you call the studio now you’ll conveniently be told that he can’t be disturbed now. Leon’s greedy, I’m afraid. He likes a woman at home and still likes to have his other little diversions.’

  ‘Really?’ Helen muttered.

  ‘Oh yes. That’s why I went to America with a—a friend of mine.’ The woman said this so suggestively that the friend could only have been male. ‘I caught Leon up to his little tricks and walked out on him. So if you aren’t a replacement for Max you must be mine.’

  ‘I suppose I must be.’

  The blue eyes were strangely inquisitive. ‘Do I know you?’

  Helen gave her a startled look. ‘Kn-know me?’

  ‘Yes,’ Sharon Melcliffe said slowly. ‘I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere before. I’m better with names than faces, actually, so what is your name?’

  ‘Helen—Helen Course,’ she gave her maiden name.

  ‘You don’t seem very sure.’

  ‘Oh, but I am. I just didn’t think about giving you my surname until I realised you expected it.’

  ‘Mm—well, it doesn’t sound familiar,’ the actress said thoughtfully. ‘Never mind, I’m sure it will come to me in time.’

  Helen hoped not! ‘Did you want to see Leon about something special?’ she changed the subject.

  ‘Not particularly. I just called to se
e how he is, but I can see he’s doing just fine. As you’re here I might as well leave you my key. I’m sure Leon has given you your own, but as I won’t be needing mine any more there’s no point in my keeping it. I’m getting married, you see.’

  ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘No need to be polite, Miss Course. I can see you hate me like hell.’

  ‘No, I—’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ the actress gave a husky laugh. ‘I would probably feel the same in your position.’

  ‘You don’t understand—’

  ‘But of course I do,’ Sharon purred. ‘Make the most of it, Helen, I can see the signs.’

  ‘S-signs?’

  Sharon nodded. ‘Of the end of your little romance. As soon as Leon starts to feel hemmed in he starts working late—or pretending to. He’s a beautiful lover, extremely accomplished, as you probably know, but he doesn’t stay attracted for very long. I would say your appeal is beginning to wane.’

  ‘I think you should leave, Miss Melcliffe,’ Helen said stiffly.

  ‘So you do know who I am.’

  ‘I recognised you a few minutes ago,’ Helen admitted coldly. ‘I’ve seen magazine articles about you.’

  ‘Oh, that trash,’ the actress dismissed. ‘I only have to look at a man and they have me having an affair with him or on the brink of marrying him. They like to wrap good old-fashioned sex up in a romantic parcel. Leon is the best, though, believe me, he just hasn’t heard of the word marriage. A shame, because he really is the best lover I’ve ever had.’

  ‘And I’m sure you’ve had plenty,’ Helen snapped insultingly.

  Sharon Melcliffe’s humour deepened. ‘Hundreds,’ she confirmed. ‘My future husband comes way down the ratings, but as he’s a millionaire a few times over I’m willing to forgive that little fault in him. After all, I can’t stay at the top of my profession for ever, and this marriage will give me the security I want, whether it lasts or not. A divorce settlement from Harvey would keep me in luxury for the rest of my life. Oh dear,’ she mocked, ‘I’ve shocked you now. Don’t worry,’ she laughed. ‘Harvey knows exactly why I’m marrying him, he just wants me at any price.’

  ‘Then you should be happy together!’