by Susan Lewis
‘It’s all going ahead. We’ve got the lobby of the Hermitage in Monte Carlo and François Ruault is doing the photographs.’
‘Great!’ Penny cried. ‘I thought he was in Paris.’
‘He was, but apparently he’s managed to squeeze us in.’
‘Well, Marielle really is surpassing herself these days.’
‘Not Marielle: Pierre. He called François and asked him to do it.’
‘For Pierre, read David,’ Penny smiled. ‘So, you don’t know where he is?’
‘No. I can try his apartment if you like?’
‘Not to worry, we’ll run into each other soon enough,’ Penny responded, showing nothing of the nervousness she felt at the prospect. ‘Now, I need to get down to some work. No interruptions unless vital. Oh, except if there’s a call from—’ She stopped. What name would he give? ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said, ‘you can put the calls through. Tell Marielle I’d like to speak to her when she’s finished tearing into Mario.’
To her surprise Penny found it easier to concentrate on her workload than she’d expected and by the end of the day she’d managed the beginning of a short story, as well as a couple of editorials, and had successfully fought her way through a barrage of telephone calls. By the time she left at seven o’clock there was still no sign of David and Pierre had come and gone so quickly she hadn’t even seen him.
‘Well, there’s no point putting it off,’ she told herself wearily as she walked into the villa and turned on the lights, she had to face the music some time. She stood for a moment listening to the silence of the house, glancing up over the stairs as though she could hear the dying echoes of her and Christian’s laughter. Then, dropping her bags in the hall, she went through to the sitting room and picked up the phone to call David’s apartment. She let it ring for some time, but there was no reply and it appeared he’d forgotten to put on his answerphone.
‘Well, at least he can’t say I didn’t try,’ she said aloud as she replaced the receiver. Which, she added glumly to herself, was more than she could say for Christian, since he hadn’t called all day.
Penny wasn’t sure when, or even how, it started, all she knew was that by the time eleven o’clock came round she had worked herself to such a pitch of anxiety that she couldn’t sit still even for a minute. She’d tried calling the Delaneys, but there was no reply; she’d tried the hotel she and Christian had stayed at in Paris, but he had checked out. She’d even considered driving over to the Delaneys to make sure no one was there, that they weren’t trying to avoid her again, but she’d stopped herself at the last moment, refusing to give in to her paranoia. Christian had said he would call and anything, just anything, could have happened to prevent it.
She kept thinking about the prowler he had spotted outside whom she’d forgotten until now. All the shutters were closed, the doors were locked, there was no way anyone could get in, but in this house of creaking antique furniture every sound was tearing her nerves to shreds. And then there was David. Where was he? Where had everyone gone? Why did she feel so alone, so inexplicably threatened by the silence, by this horrible feeling of desertion?
Her heart was beating too fast. She paced up and down, her mind racing. He had said he loved her, he wanted her with him at the weekend, so why was she worrying like this? Because she was going to lose him. Because sooner or later they would take him away and she just couldn’t bear it. They should be together now; she should have insisted she stay in Paris. Why had he sent her back? Why wouldn’t he share what was going on in his life, allow her to support him? Because he was trying to protect her. Because he loved her.
Oh dear God, she prayed silently, don’t let them have taken him away yet. Please, please, God, let me see him again.
She started, almost screamed, as the telephone suddenly shrilled through the house. Running to it, she grabbed it and in her haste, dropped it.
‘Hello? Penny?’ a voice was saying.
‘Yes? Esther, is that you?’
‘Yes, dear, it’s me. How are you?’
‘Oh, I’m fine,’ Penny answered, taking a steadying breath. ‘I was just . . . Oh God, I’m behaving like such an idiot here, Esther. Do you know where Christian is? Have you spoken to him? He said he’d call, but—’
‘He’s right here,’ Esther interrupted.
‘Where? Where are you? I tried your house . . .’
‘I’m in Paris,’ Esther said. ‘And Christian’s right here. He wants to talk to you.’
Penny waited, listening to the muted voices at the other end, then Christian’s voice, low and intimate and sounding almost as anguished as she felt, came down the line. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘How are you? I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier. Things have been hectic here.’
‘That’s OK,’ Penny answered.
‘Are you missing me?’
‘Do you need to ask? Are you missing me?’
‘I can hardly think about anything else. But listen, I’m not sure any more about the weekend. Things have changed a bit and maybe I won’t be in Italy after all. But I’ll call you, OK?’
‘Yes,’ Penny whispered. Then, unable to stop herself: ‘Can I come wherever you’ll be?’
‘Of course. I’ll let you know where as soon as I know myself.’ He paused, giving Penny the impression there was something he wanted to say, but obviously he decided not to for all he added was, ‘I have to go now. I love you, chérie,’ and the line went dead.
After she’d hung up Penny put her hands to her face and took a deep, shuddering breath. At first she thought it was relief she was feeling, but then she realized that it was something more akin to fear; as if she was beginning to drift in a sea of hopeless and tormented emotion.
‘You’ve got to pull yourself together,’ she told herself sharply. ‘This is only the beginning – and if you can’t cope now, when will you be able to?’
For some reason the sound of her own voice seemed to calm her, seemed to pass through the maelstrom inside her and quell it. She felt suddenly exhausted, as though she hadn’t slept in so long she no longer knew what it was to sink into the oblivion of dreamless escape.
Dragging herself up the stairs, she turned out the lights behind her, trying not to see the towering shadows that loomed from each corner. She’d never been afraid in this house before, but tonight her nerves were so raw they jarred at every noise; her senses were wired and razor-sharp, yet all she wanted now was to sleep and sleep and sleep.
As she got into bed she pulled the panic button from the drawer and slipped it under her pillow. She didn’t want to be here alone any more: she wanted Christian to be here, to reassure her that there was nothing to be afraid of. Was he right, was there someone watching her? She hadn’t seen anyone, but why would he have said it if it weren’t true? Why would anyone be watching her? She was nobody, a nobody who knew nothing . . .
It was in the early hours of the morning that a noise somewhere in the house roused her. Drugged by sleep, she turned over, telling herself it was just Sammy coming home, and started to drift back into oblivion. Then suddenly, as the thought of Sammy penetrated needle-sharp in her brain, the veil of sleep tore open and her heart hammered with fear. Sammy didn’t live here any more. Sammy had gone.
A white-hot burn of terror slid through her heart. There was someone in the room with her, she could hear someone breathing. Not a trace of moonlight was coming through the shutters, there was nothing to see . . .
Suddenly one corner of the room was flooded with a sluggish light. Penny’s eyes were still closed, feigning sleep, as panic pulsed through her. Slowly, very slowly, she was inching her hand towards the emergency button under her pillow.
‘I know you’re awake, Penny.’ It was a stranger’s voice, but he knew her name! Terror thundered through her brain.
‘Open your eyes, Penny,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m not going to hurt you.’
It was a nightmare. She would wake up in a minute. Somehow she would mana
ge to drag herself from this mind-numbing terror.
As though they had a will of their own, Penny’s eyes opened. There was a man, sitting in the corner, watching her.
‘Hello, Penny.’ He smiled. ‘Please forgive the unorthodox—’
He got no further, for suddenly every siren in the house started to wail and alarm bells shrilled as Penny leapt from the bed and made a frantic dash to the bathroom. Once inside, she bolted the door, pressed herself against it and feverishly pleaded for help. She could hear nothing above the pounding in her ears and the scream of the sirens. No one was forcing the door the other side, but she wouldn’t, couldn’t, let go. Her whole body was seized by shuddering spasms of shock, her mind was a screaming vortex of terror.
It seemed an eternity before she heard the piercing squeal of brakes, and the barking of dogs, carry through the din of the alarms. Her heart was still racing; she was too afraid to move.
A minute later everything went silent. The sirens had stopped. Then she heard the dogs tearing through the house and, almost immediately, someone calling her name.
‘I’m up here,’ she shouted. Oh thank God, thank God, thank God. ‘I’m in the bathroom, in the master suite.’
Even before the security guard found her the Alsatians were there, scratching the door, growling, barking, frantic to get in. Two sharp words from the guard and they backed off.
‘It’s OK,’ he called out to her. ‘You can come out.’
Tentatively Penny unlocked the door and pulled it open. She could hear more dogs outside, racing through the grounds in search of an intruder.
‘Are you all right?’ the guard asked. ‘What happened?’
Penny swallowed and took a breath. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said shakily, ‘it was just so . . .’ She took another breath. ‘There was someone in here. Someone,’ she said, pointing at the chair, ‘sitting right there.’
The guard turned to look at the chair.
‘He woke me up,’ she said. ‘He said my name. He was . . . Oh God, I’m sorry, I’ll have myself together in a minute.’
‘It’s all right,’ the guard said comfortingly. ‘Just take your time. Would you like to go downstairs?’
‘Yes,’ she breathed. ‘Yes, I think so. Is he gone?’
The guard nodded. ‘The dogs would have found him if he hadn’t. Was it anyone you know?’ he asked.
Penny nodded. ‘Yes. I mean . . . I’m not sure. It all happened so fast.’
As the guard led her gently down the stairs his colleague came in through the front door. ‘No one out there,’ he told them.
The first guard nodded, then told him to round up the dogs.
‘What I want to know,’ Penny said, as the guard poured her a brandy, ‘is how he got in.’
‘Good question,’ the guard responded. ‘We’ll check the place over, but if he got past the alarms that suggests he was already in here before you went to bed.’
‘Oh God,’ Penny groaned, feeling the fear slide through her again.
‘Is there someone you can call?’ the guard asked a few minutes later. ‘Someone who can come and stay with you?’
Penny shook her head. ‘No, I don’t—’ She stopped, swallowed another mouthful of brandy and said, ‘Yes. Yes, there is someone. What time is it?’
The guard looked at his watch. ‘Ten past two.’
Twenty minutes later Penny was standing in the hall with the guards when David’s car skidded to a halt outside and he came racing up the steps and in through the front door.
The moment she saw his pale, anxious face, Penny started to shake all over again.
‘It’s OK, it’s OK,’ he said, pulling her into his arms. ‘What the hell happened?’ He was looking at the security guards.
‘There was an intruder,’ one of them told him. ‘The door to the laundry room has been forced. It would seem he got in before the alarms were set, but we’re checking the system to make sure there isn’t a fault.’ Then, in a lower voice. ‘She’s had a nasty shock . . . Would you like us to call the police?’
‘Do you want the police, Pen?’ David asked, his voice muffled by her hair.
She shook her head and pulled herself away. ‘No. No, it’s all right. I’m all right now.’
‘Would you like us to leave one of the dogs outside?’ the guard offered. David nodded. ‘Right, no problem. We’ll come back for him in the morning. If you need him any longer, we’ll run through his commands with you. His name’s Brutus, by the way.’
As soon as the front door closed behind the guards, David locked and bolted it, then went back to Penny in the sitting room. Her face was buried in her hands, and her shoulders were shaking she was sobbing so hard.
‘Hey, hey,’ he said, going to her. ‘It’s all right. Come on, nothing’s going to happen.’
‘Oh David!’ she wailed, turning into his arms. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m making such a fool of myself. I just . . . Oh God, I can’t even speak. I was so afraid you weren’t going to be there. But I was afraid to see you. I thought you were angry with me. I don’t blame you if you are. I shouldn’t have gone just like that. I wanted to be there for you, but I let you down. I’m sorry, David. I’m so sorry. I’m making such a mess of things and I just don’t know what to do.’
‘For someone who can’t speak, you’re not doing so bad,’ he laughed. ‘Now, what’s all this about? Why am I going to be mad at you?’ he asked, squeezing her.
‘For going off the way I did,’ she said, turning away from him and moving towards the piano. ‘I know I shouldn’t have done it. I know I should have cleared it with you . . .’
‘Why should you have cleared it with me? And did the world fall apart because you weren’t there? Now, come on . . .’
‘But that’s not the point,’ she cried, wringing her hands. ‘You’ve done so much for me and I let you down. I didn’t call you back at the weekend . . .’
‘OK, time out,’ he said softly. ‘This isn’t about apologizing to me for something you don’t have to apologize for. This is about an intruder in the house . . .’
Suddenly coming to her senses, Penny spun round. ‘It was the man from the Mercedes!’ she said shrilly. ‘The one I told you about. The fat one. I swear it was him. He was sitting there in my bedroom, watching me.’
David’s face drained. ‘Are you sure?’ he said.
‘Yes.’ Then, shaking her head: ‘I don’t know. I think it was him. But if it was, then what was he doing here, David? Why did he break into my house?’
‘I don’t know,’ David answered, almost to himself. ‘But I’ll find out. Did he say anything to you?’
‘No, not really. Just that he wasn’t going to harm me.’ Her eyes came up to his. ‘David, do you think he might be having me watched?’ she said. David’s eyes bored into hers, but even through her agitation she could see that his mind wasn’t really with her. ‘Do you?’ she implored.
‘I don’t know,’ he answered. ‘He could be.’
‘Oh God,’ she groaned. ‘I can’t stand this. It’s like a nightmare. Nothing makes sense any more. Why would he be having me watched?’
‘That’s something else I’ll have to find out,’ David said and, putting an arm around her, he led her to the sofa. ‘Come on, sit down,’ he said. ‘I’ll go get some blankets. Where are they?’
‘In the cupboard on the first landing. Who is he, David?’
‘I guess you could call him my nemesis,’ he answered, staring sightlessly at the empty brandy glass beside her. ‘Do you want some more of that?’ he said.
Penny shook her head. ‘No. I just want this night to be over.’
He found the blankets and brought them back to the sitting room. Penny was hunched into one corner of the sofa, her eyelashes still wet with tears, her face even more strained than it had been when he’d left.
He said nothing as he wrapped a blanket around her as though she were a child. Penny started to look up, found she couldn’t meet his eyes, and turned away. She
knew he was still watching her as he went to sit on the opposite sofa and sensed something in him she couldn’t quite define.
‘Was it a man?’ he asked softly. ‘Was that the reason you took off the way you did?’
Penny nodded. Despite the gentleness of his voice it sounded strangely hollow, as though it was causing him more effort to speak than it was her.
‘Where did you go?’ he said.
‘Paris,’ she answered, her voice faltering on the word as tears threatened to overwhelm her again.
‘Didn’t it work out?’
Screwing up her eyes Penny swallowed hard. ‘Yes, it worked out,’ she said. ‘It’s just . . . It’s just a bit complicated, that’s all.’
His laugh held no humour. ‘Aren’t these things always?’ He waited a moment, then said, perhaps too casually, ‘Anyone I know?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, but if you don’t mind I’d rather not talk about him.’
At last her eyes came up to his. In the dim light she couldn’t make out his expression, but there was a tension about him that disturbed her, brought back the guilt she had felt when she hadn’t called him. ‘Is there anything I can do?’ she said, hoarsely.
At first he seemed surprised by the question; then, understanding what she meant, he said, ‘No. I’ll handle it. Just you get some sleep. I’ll be right here. Do you want me to hold—’ He stopped, pulled a hand over his tired face and forced himself to smile. ‘Try to sleep,’ he said.
A few hours later, as the first rays of dawn were seeping through the shutters, David got up and went to the phone. It didn’t take Pierre long to get there, by which time David was waiting on the front steps, his face drawn with exhaustion as he. held Brutus on a chain.
‘She’s still asleep,’ he said as Pierre, unshaven and warmly wrapped in a fur-lined coat, got out of his car. ‘Stay with her until she wakes up. I don’t know what she’ll want to do today – it’s probably best if she goes to the office. Then we’ll have to arrange things so someone stays here with her.’
‘Not you,’ Pierre said. It wasn’t a question, nor was it an order: it was a simple statement of fact.