by Susan Lewis
But at last the pain was over. Jane could never be too sure exactly when it was that her feelings had changed, that the unbearably exquisite ache in her heart had ceased to be there and the churning knots in her stomach at last unfurled. All she knew was that one day, about a year ago now, she had suddenly realized that she was looking at him and feeling only a very genuine affection, unencumbered by the pain of longing. It had surprised her, delighted her and in a way disappointed her, for the buzz of excitement she’d always experienced when in the same room as him had died leaving her feeling as drab, perhaps even drabber than she had felt before. But that didn’t really matter too much, she’d told herself brightly; as long as she had Tom, this perfect child whose mischief and tempers were as like his father’s as his thick, glossy black curls and heart-stoppingly blue eyes, she would have all she needed. And who could say, perhaps before much longer he would have a little brother or sister she could dote on too.
Now, as Laurence rested Tom in the crook of his arm and he and Pippa started to discuss their plans for that day, Jane returned to the newspaper, helping herself to another slice of toast. She was on the point of biting into it when she suddenly stopped. It was the strangest thing. She couldn’t explain it, all she knew was that this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened to her, and in its way it was quite frightening. To be able to look at someone and to know that that person was going to play an important, if not vital role, in her life was as bizarre as it was inexplicable. And even odder was the fact that the person she was looking at now was Kirsten Meredith, a woman she had never met, nor, so far as she could tell, was she ever likely to meet.
‘Oh, old Dermott’s not laying into her again, is he?’ Pippa said, coming to read over Jane’s shoulder as Laurence wandered out of the kitchen. ‘What’s he saying this time? No, I’m not sure I want to know. By the way, did you give Laurence the message that he’d called yesterday?’
‘Yes,’ Jane said, turning up her nose.
Pippa laughed. It wasn’t very often that Jane took a dislike to someone, but she certainly had to Dermott Campbell, who, to Jane’s dismay, had been an all too regular visitor at South Edwardes Square these past couple of years.
As Pippa turned away Jane discreetly pushed the newspaper into the side drawer of the table. She would read it later when there was no one around.
A few minutes later the telephone rang and Jane reached out to answer it. ‘Oh, hello, Mrs McAllister,’ she said. ‘Yes, Tom’s right here. No we didn’t have anything special planned today . . .’ She turned to Tom. ‘Are you going to speak to Granny?’ she asked.
‘Granny Mac!’ Tom whooped and shot across the room to take the phone.
The way Tom referred to Laurence’s extremely elegant, rather snobbish American mother as Granny Mac, never failed to amuse Jane for it was difficult to imagine anyone who looked less like a Granny, but that Thea McAllister and her grandson were devoted to each other was beyond question. In fact, Don McAllister, Laurence’s Scottish father, had retired early from the diplomatic service, leaving his post in Washington DC – where Laurence had spent most of his childhood until going to university at Oxford – to move back to London, so that he and his wife could be near their grandson.
As Tom chattered on with his grandmother and Laurence strolled back into the kitchen Jane became aware of Pippa’s mounting tension. She knew that Pippa disliked Thea McAllister and though Jane liked Thea herself, she could understand why Pippa didn’t. Thea was an overbearing woman who was possessive enough of her son and grandson to make any wife and mother uncomfortable, but in Pippa’s case there was more than mere discomfort. She’d only recently confided to Jane that the ‘damned woman’ made her feel so ridiculously guilty.
‘And it’s not as though I’ve got anything to feel guilty about,’ Pippa had grumbled. ‘But whenever she looks at me I feel like she’s accusing me of something.’
Jane would never dream of saying so, but she too thought that Thea’s manner towards Pippa held a certain, well yes, a certain sort of reproach, but then she guessed that was fairly typical in a mother-in-law and didn’t really set too much store by it.
‘So,’ Pippa said now as she stacked the breakfast things into the dishwasher, ‘we still haven’t resolved the problem of who we are going to invite to the party for you next Saturday.’
‘Oh hell, you’re not back on that are you?’ Laurence groaned. ‘Give the girl a break, why don’t you?’
‘Well maybe if you were to come up with some suggestions . . .’ Pippa snapped.
‘I’m off,’ Laurence said, ‘some of us have work to do.’
‘When don’t you have work to do?’ Pippa remarked sourly, but Laurence didn’t answer, he simply left the kitchen and ran upstairs to his study.
To Jane’s relief Pippa didn’t pursue the subject of finding an escort; instead she turned her attention to Tom, who had finished speaking to his grandmother and was trying to reach up to the TV set to turn it on.
‘You’ll pull the damned thing on to your head one of these days,’ Pippa barked, smacking his hands away.
Tom looked up at her, hugging his hands to his chest.
‘And don’t look at me like that,’ Pippa said irritably. ‘I’ve told you a thousand times, you watch too much TV and I’m not having it. Now tidy up these blasted toys before someone breaks their neck.’
As Pippa turned away Tom dropped forlornly to his knees, his bottom lip starting to tremble as he fought back his tears. Quietly Jane set about helping him reload his toy box while Pippa continued to slam about the kitchen. They were all well used to these sudden mood swings of Pippa’s, which usually preceded a spell away from home – and Pippa was flying to Italy the next day and would be gone until the end of the week. For all her protestations that she had nothing to feel guilty about, she obviously did feel guilty about the amount of time she spent away from Tom and because he made her feel guilty he annoyed her. Though not half so much as Laurence seemed to lately, Jane reflected, and felt her heart sink as Pippa suddenly rounded on her, her violet eyes flashing and her pretty mouth tight with anger.
‘How dare that bastard speak to me like that!’ she said. ‘Anyone would think that he was the only one around here who’s got a career. Oh, but I’m forgetting, aren’t I, his is the only one that matters. Mine’s just a little indulgence, nothing to be taken seriously, well I’m going to tell him just where he gets off patronizing me,’ and pushing Tom out of her way, she stormed up the stairs.
Picking Tom up, Jane carried him out to the garden and settled him in his swing, hoping they were far enough out of earshot for him not to hear the inevitable row that was brewing. It would be over almost as soon as it had begun, Jane was sure of that, for Laurence had a way of handling Pippa that, as much as it infuriated her, Pippa could never resist. And as Jane envisaged Laurence’s startled face when his indignant wife crashed into his study, she smiled fondly to herself and swung Tom up in the air.
‘For Christ’s sake, Pippa, just listen to yourself, will you?’ Laurence sighed, throwing a pen down on his desk and turning in his chair. ‘You’re over-reacting and you know it!’
‘Oh am I? Well as it so happens I think I’ve got something to over-react about. You speak to me as though I’m a complete imbecile, and right in front of Jane too! Then you walk out of the kitchen like Mr Important Producer Himself and to hell with everyone else, then you’ve got the fucking audacity to tell me I should have knocked before I came in here. This is my home as well, in case you’d forgotten.’
‘All I said was the door was shut because I didn’t want to be disturbed. I still don’t want to be . . .’
‘Well tough fucking luck! I’m here now and you’re going to bloody well apologize to me for the way you spoke to me just now.’
Laurence shrugged, still not too sure what it was he’d said. ‘OK, I apologize,’ he grinned. ‘Happy now?’
‘There you go again!’ Pippa seethed, throwing up her hands in exasperation.
‘I’m not a fucking child . . .’
‘Then why don’t you stop behaving like one.’
‘Perhaps I would if you started behaving like a husband!’
Laurence’s face tightened. He knew what she was going to say next, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to get any encouragement from him. Besides, they’d been over and over this these past six months and right now he had other, more immediate things he needed to deal with.
‘It’s still the same, is it?’ she said, waspishly. ‘You’re too busy to spend a little time with your wife and son. You just want to be locked away in here, undisturbed! Well, pardon me for interrupting you, but like it or not we’re going to damn well have this out.’
‘Pippa, why don’t you just go pack your suitcases and check your flight reservations.’
He ducked as the book flew across the room and slammed against the wall behind him.
‘Don’t do that again,’ he said quietly.
‘I want your attention, God damn you! I want you to look at me, to listen to me . . .’
‘I’ve listened, Pippa. I’ve listened and understood. You don’t want that we go and live in the States. So we stay here.’
‘We stay here because I’ve got a career too,’ she yelled. ‘What the hell would I do in fucking Hollywood? I hate the place, all those phoney people . . .’
‘I said, we stay here.’
‘And now you’re punishing me for it. You lock yourself away in here and don’t come out from morning till midnight. Well I can’t stand it, do you hear me? I can’t put up with it any more!’
‘Pippa, I’m in here because I need to work. Because getting a movie off the ground in this country is next to impossible. I don’t have to remind you what happened the last time and one failure is already one too many. I can’t afford for that to happen again. Now will you just quit thinking about yourself for once and leave me in peace?’
‘I don’t suppose for one minute you’d throw Tom out if he walked in here, would you? On no, not your precious son. It’s only his mother you can’t tolerate . . .’
‘Because his mother should know better. And being jealous of your own son isn’t healthy, Pippa.’
‘How can I help being jealous of him when all he has to do is bat his eyelids and you’re all over him. What do I have to do, Laurence? What do I do to get your attention? Does Alison have this problem? Do you ignore her, too? Of course you do, but she still comes back for more, doesn’t she? They all do, don’t they, Laurence? We all want you and there’s not enough of you to go round. So who’s the one to suffer? Not your son, no, never him! Not your goddamned mother either. And certainly not your mistress. Do you listen to her when she needs to talk, or do you just fuck her? Do you do it here, in this room, when I’m not around? No, I’ll bet you don’t, your darling Thomas might walk in and that would never do, would it? Do you think of me when you’re with her, Laurence? Do you think of her when you’re with me? Or are you just thinking about your precious movies the whole time, because that’s what you really get off on, isn’t it? Just to think of those endless reels of celluloid gives you a hard on like no woman ever can . . .’
Laurence sat watching her, saddened by the way she was working herself to such a frenzy, but knowing there was nothing he could do to stop her – not yet anyway. She had to get it off her chest and any minute now she would start contradicting herself, get herself into complete confusion and then she would cry.
This wasn’t the first time she’d accused him of having an affair with Alison Fortescue, the production designer he always worked with, and though he guessed she knew it wasn’t true, lately, he’d had an uncomfortable feeling that she almost wished it were. But he wasn’t. He loved Pippa every bit as much now as he did when they’d married, five years ago, but he, like her, was aware that recently they had started to drift apart. He didn’t want that to happen. Despite their occasional difficulties and Pippa’s unreasonable tantrums, they were good together, they always had been, right from the start, which was why he had taken no longer than three months to propose to her. Pippa had had everything he was looking for in a woman then and still did. Perhaps, he told himself now as he watched the tears start from her eyes, he should make more of an effort to understand her, and it could be that she was right, that he did patronize her, but she sure as hell made it difficult not to sometimes.
Getting to his feet, he walked across the room and closed the door. Then, taking her by the shoulders, he pressed her up against the wall and looked down into her face. Christ, there were times when she felt so frail in his hands, so vulnerable that he was afraid he would crush the very life from her were he to give full vent to his feelings. Of course that was nonsense, but even so it had taken him a long time to get used to the fact that such a slight and delicate body could handle the overriding passions of his own. How many times over the years had he secretly searched her tender pale skin for the bruises he was sure he must have inflicted during the heightened moments of their love-making? And even now he could still sometimes be surprised by the flawlessness of the smooth milky flesh that covered such fragile bones when his ruthless masculinity had ceased its demands for fulfilment.
As she gazed up at him her eyes were angry and bewildered and, he realized with a sudden and painful jolt to his heart, strangely lonely.
He lowered his head and as their lips touched his hand went behind her and brought her body hard against his.
‘It’s not true, is it?’ she whispered. ‘About Alison, I mean.’
‘You know it’s not,’ he said softly.
‘Kiss me again, Laurence. Hold me close.’
He gathered her tightly in his arms and pushed his tongue deep into her mouth. They kissed for a long time, feeling their desire building to a pitch where one of them would break away and begin the ritual of love-making. This time Pippa was the first and Laurence’s head fell on to his arms against the wall as she slid down his body, unzipping him as she went. He looked down as she lifted his semi-erect penis from his jeans then groaned as she took him into her mouth. She pushed his jeans to his knees, inserted her fingers between his legs, raked her nails over his buttocks and thighs and tightened the grip with her mouth.
She knew he loved this and would have brought him to climax had he not reached down for her and, pulling her to her feet, buried his tongue in her mouth. She whimpered softly as he lifted her short skirt to her waist and pressed himself to her.
After a while she whispered, ‘Pull my knickers down.’
He heard the catch in her voice and kissed her hard. It turned her on to say it, which in its turn excited him too. He eased her panties to mid-thigh, the way he knew she liked it, then slid his fingers into the wispy thatch of blonde hair between her legs.
‘I love you,’ he murmured.
She pulled back to look at his face, but as he opened his eyes she caught him to her again. ‘Take me now,’ she moaned. ‘Put it inside me. Deep inside me.’
As she stepped out of her knickers he cupped his hands under her buttocks and lifted her. Her legs circled his waist and, pushing her hard against the wall, he penetrated her. For a fleeting moment he was aware of her frailty again, but he pushed it from his mind. It was true that he felt less urgency with Pippa, that there wasn’t, nor ever had been, the overpowering intoxication of being totally submerged in a sea of femininity, but in its place was a deep and unparalleled love the like of which no amount of lust could ever destroy.
But equally true was the fact that making love to her was no solution to their problems. He knew that Pippa would never forgive him if he made her move to the States, but if they stayed in England his career would undoubtedly continue to suffer and maybe die altogether.
The following morning Laurence cancelled Pippa’s taxi and drove her to the airport himself. Tom went along too, though Laurence wondered after a while whether it had been such a good idea to bring him. Pippa was as jittery as she always was before going away and no matter how much Laurenc
e tried to persuade her that they would be fine for a couple of days without her he could see that nothing was going to assuage the guilt. Their parting, when it came, was much more tender than usual and for a moment Laurence actually thought that Pippa was going to back out.
‘I don’t want to leave you,’ she said, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘I know it’s silly, but I don’t.’ She looked up at him then and Laurence knew what she was going to say even before she said it.
He shook his head. ‘I can’t do it, honey,’ he said softly. ‘I can’t ask you to give it up. That has to be your decision and yours alone.’
‘I know,’ she said, attempting a smile. ‘Oh God, Laurence, why do you have to be so reasonable?’
‘I guess I’m just that sort of guy,’ he grinned. ‘Now, do I get a kiss?’
She leaned forward awkwardly as Tom was clinging to her – unlike his father he was more than ready to ask her not to go. But both Pippa and Laurence knew that within minutes of Pippa handing him over to his father he would be filled with excitement at the prospect of having Laurence to himself for a few days.
‘Do you have any idea just how much it makes my heart ache to look at you two together?’ Pippa smiled wistfully as she put Tom down and watched him automatically reach up for his father’s hand.
‘Sure I do,’ Laurence answered. ‘It kind of gets to me too, when I see him with you.’
‘I don’t deserve you.’
‘I guess you don’t at that.’
‘Am I really so hateful?’
‘Yeah, I reckon you are.’
‘Don’t let me destroy us, Laurence.’
‘You think I’m gonna do that?’
‘I love you.’
‘Yeah, I know. I love you too. We’ll get through this, honey, we’ll find a way, you’ll see.’
As he watched her walk through to the departure lounge Laurence’s face was inscrutable, though deep down inside he was hurting. He was hurting because she was hurting. He sighed. Women were strange creatures, almost alien at times. Just how did a guy handle it when the woman he loved was unable to take a decision herself, when she longed for her husband to make it for her, and yet would deeply resent him for doing it? Somebody answer him that for God’s sake, because he sure as hell couldn’t answer it himself.