by Susan Lewis
Immediately Laurence frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that Ruby called here about an hour ago wanting to speak to you.’
‘Shit!’ Laurence groaned.
‘I take it you were at Alison’s.’
‘I was. But Pip, if you’re gonna start in on that . . .’
‘Sssh,’ she said, putting her fingers over his lips. ‘You’re tired, you’re hungry and the last thing you need right now is a jealous wife, am I right?’
‘You got nothing to be jealous of.’
‘I know. I guess I just can’t believe my luck sometimes that I should be married to someone as wonderful as you.’
‘You’re pretty wonderful yourself, you know.’ As he spoke his lips were brushing against hers and then he kissed her deeply, pulling her against him and pushing his tongue into her mouth. She could be downright impossible sometimes, and her unpredictable moods coupled with her jealousy nearly drove him to distraction, but when he was holding her like this he loved her so much he felt it filling his entire body.
Fifteen minutes later, somewhat revived by his shower Laurence was sitting on the bed eating the meal Pippa had brought up for him. She was sitting opposite him alternately feeding and kissing him.
‘Oh, by the way,’ she said, popping the last forkful of risotto into his mouth, ‘Dermott rang this morning wanting to know if you were free to play cricket on Sunday.’
‘I’ll give him a call,’ he said, taking the plate from her and putting it on the floor beside the bed.
‘He’s having lunch with Helena Johnson tomorrow,’ Pippa said as Laurence pulled her into his arms so that she was lying with her head on his shoulder.
‘Helena who?’
‘Johnson. You know, the actress. That friend of Kirsten Meredith’s. Apparently she’s going to spill more beans about Kirsten.’
‘I wouldn’t call that a friend,’ Laurence yawned.
‘No, I guess not,’ Pippa said thoughtfully, as he hugged her and kissed the top of her head. ‘Laurence?’ she said a few minutes later.
‘Mmm?’
‘I want to talk to you about Jane.’
‘What about her?’
‘I think she’s becoming a little too attached to Tom.’
‘You have a problem with that?’
‘No, not exactly. But it’s not normal, is it? I mean, she doesn’t have any friends her own age, in fact she doesn’t have any friends at all as far as I can make out. Her whole life is wrapped up in this family. She hardly ever sees her parents . . .’
‘What are you really getting at here?’ Laurence interrupted, turning slightly so he could hold her closer, but Pippa pulled away.
‘I’m not sure you’re going to like this,’ she said, ‘but well, I’ve been thinking, and I’m not sure whether or not we should let her go.’
‘You mean fire her?’ Laurence said incredulously.
‘You don’t have to put it like that,’ Pippa said uncomfortably. ‘But to be honest she gets on my nerves a bit. All that giggling and stuff. I don’t want Tom picking that up. And she’s so immature at times. She needs to grow up and she’s not doing it around here.’
Laurence rested his head on his hand and thought about that for a moment. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘she gets a lot of pleasure out of looking after Tom, well all of us I guess, and she’d be real hurt if she thought you wanted her out. And we’d be hard put to find anyone else who’s as dedicated as she is.’
‘Mmm, I suppose you’re right,’ Pippa said, lying back in his arms. In truth she didn’t really want to let Jane go, for having her around made life so much easier. But she wasn’t at all sure about this friendship she’d struck up with Kirsten Meredith. Still, it was probably just a one-off thing, that visit Jane had made to Kirsten’s house, and nothing at all to worry about. She wondered how Laurence would feel if he knew about it. Knowing how he felt about Kirsten he probably would fire Jane. Or would he? There were things in the past, things that had happened between Kirsten and Laurence, that Pippa believed still held them together even though Laurence would never admit it. But she’d stopped being jealous of Kirsten a long time ago and now was no time to start it up again. No, now definitely wasn’t the time when she had so many plans of her own. Plans, she thought, not without irony, that had been made because of Kirsten Meredith, when Kirsten was still in France. Pippa had never yet had the courage to carry them through, but now that Kirsten was back . . . She’d just have to see how Laurence continued to handle Kirsten’s return, maybe then the decisions would be easier to make.
6
Dermott Campbell was sitting at a corner table in Bibendum, one of London’s chicest restaurants. As he sipped his gin and tonic and scanned the menu he was vaguely aware of the nerves clawing away at his appetite and not for the first time he glanced at his watch. She was ten minutes late.
The last time he’d seen her had been at the McAllister’s party, ten days ago, when he had got the hots for her all over again. She was like a witch, in appearance as well as in spirit. She seemed to have woven some kind of spell over him which had completely annihilated any interest he might have in other women. And, given the mood he was in right now, not even knowing that she had a penchant for the young boys did anything to lessen his hopes. He was going to have that woman if it was the last thing he ever did. In fact, that very afternoon he was going to take her to his bed and fuck her so hard she’d think yesterday was tomorrow and next year was last week.
He winced. Actually, what he was really going to do, was listen to what Helena had to tell him, thank her, then get up from the table and leave, because today wasn’t the day even to consider trying to embark on anything else – not when the outcome was going to be a betrayal of both their best friends.
Shit, Campbell groaned inwardly as his head started to throb. For two pins he’d just get up and walk out of here before she showed. But he couldn’t do that, not now, if he did Dyllis would just give the assignment to someone else and there would be nothing Campbell could do to protect Laurence from the kind of publicity he sure as hell wouldn’t want. But one way or another Laurence was going to get it, because even if nothing came of this meeting today, Campbell already knew what was going to be in his column tomorrow – Dyllis herself had already written it.
Why the hell did it have to be Laurence that the Kirstie Doll had been involved with, Campbell seethed. Why couldn’t it have been someone he didn’t know, that way he wouldn’t be having to go through this. But it was Laurence, and what Dyllis wanted to know was exactly what was behind their break up. And in a way Campbell could understand that, after all, whatever it was had resulted in the break up of Dyllis’s marriage.
But to be fishing around in Laurence’s past like this was almost enough to make Campbell wish himself back on the scrap-heap. Laurence had always stood by him and this was how he was repaying him – by drinking gin to find the courage to betray him. No, he was protecting Laurence, he had to keep reminding himself of that, but it gave him small comfort.
‘Mr Campbell?’
Feigning nonchalance as his stomach clenched with nerves Campbell reluctantly tore himself from his perusal of the menu and looked up at the waiter.
‘Your guest has arrived, Monsieur,’ the waiter smiled.
Campbell started to smile too, but as the waiter stepped to one side the shock jammed his tongue to the back of his throat. He started to splutter, loosened his tie, tried to get up and failed.
‘Another drink for Mr Campbell please,’ Kirsten smiled at the waiter as she sat down. ‘A mineral water for me.’
The waiter left and Kirsten turned to face Campbell.
‘What the fuck . . .?’ he hissed, making to get up.
‘Please sit down, Mr Campbell,’ Kirsten interrupted smoothly. She held his eyes, her own so steely and intense that Campbell found himself slumping back into his chair stupefied.
Kirsten smiled and as she did her eyes softened. ‘I apologize for the subter
fuge,’ she said affably, ‘but under the circumstances I felt it necessary.’ Inside she was triumphant. Just as she’d hoped, the shock of seeing her had thrown him totally, she was starting out with the edge.
She waited patiently as his panicked eyes darted about the restaurant, knowing exactly what was going through his mind. The last thing in the world he would want was to be seen dining in public with Kirsten Meredith, for, were they to be recognized it could do untold harm to his credibility. Which was why Kirsten had chosen to dress the way she had, in an exquisitely cut black linen suit with a matching wide-brimmed straw hat, both of which were guaranteed to turn heads. It was unlikely that any of Campbell’s colleagues would be amongst the other diners though, which was a little disappointing, but if Helena had asked him to meet her in any of the journalists well-known haunts it would have seemed mightily suspicious when she was promising to reveal all about Kirsten Meredith.
‘OK,’ Kirsten said at last, placing her purse on the table and folding her hands over it. ‘I will come straight to the point. What will it take to stop this vendetta against me?’
Campbell’s eyes were livid as they regarded her across the table. He had never taken well to being tricked, even though he was a master of trickery himself, but he had to hand it to her, she had really out-trumped him. And she was one daunting woman dressed like that, and her seemingly intractable confidence was pretty impressive too. But he had regained at least some of his composure by now and was already planning how he could make this work for him. And work it better, because if Dyllis got to find out about this, which she would, she’d be expecting . . . Well, he didn’t know what she’d be expecting, but he’d better come up with something. Trouble was, having prepared himself for Helena Johnson, he was in the wrong persona. He was going to have to switch, fast. He took a large mouthful of gin, and as he did the implications of her question suddenly hit him. God, he had her! He had her right in the palm of his hand already and she didn’t even know it. But he’d take it slowly, build up to it one step at a time, and still she wouldn’t know, not until the papers hit the stands. ‘What’s the problem?’ he asked. ‘Don’t much like having everyone know what you’re really like?’
‘But you don’t have the first idea of what I’m really like,’ Kirsten answered pleasantly. ‘In fact, all you know is what you have manufactured yourself, and what other people have told you. Incidentally, how can you be sure, when you’re waving a nice fat cheque in front of them, that what they are telling you is the truth?’
‘If it’s not, sue.’
‘Believe you me, Mr Campbell, I have considered it. And if it comes to it, I will.’
Campbell wasn’t fazed. ‘You want to air your dirty linen in public then that’s fine by me,’ he said. ‘It’s all good copy.’
‘And that’s all that matters, is it? You don’t mind at all about what you’re doing to my life, of how much damage you’re causing with your lies. But it would seem that attacking my reputation isn’t enough. I am fully aware of who is blocking all my approaches to various television companies recently. It would seem that Mrs Fisher is out to destroy me completely. Am I right?’
You’re dead right, Campbell was thinking to himself as he looked directly into her eyes. Jesus Christ, was she one beautiful woman! Perhaps he wasn’t too sure how he felt about Helena Johnson after all. Still, now wasn’t the time to think about that, he had a job to do. ‘Tell me,’ he said, avoiding the question, ‘did you think of the damage you were doing Dyllis Fisher when you ran off with her husband of forty-five years?’
Kirsten looked up at the waiter as he placed her mineral water on the table and thanked him. After taking a sip she turned back to Campbell. ‘Have you asked yourself why it is that Paul should have wanted to run off in the first place, Mr Campbell? Or why it is that Mrs Fisher is not contesting the will? Oh, I know what you’ve printed in your column, but there’s a lot of money at stake here, and you know it. So why, do you think, is she letting it go so easily?’
The quality of that dark, husky voice was as mesmerizing as her eyes. ‘Because,’ he answered, clearing his throat, ‘she doesn’t want her husband’s name, or more particularly his senility, dragged through the courts.’
‘Paul wasn’t senile, Mr Campbell. He died with all his faculties intact. But if you don’t want to believe me then I suggest you talk to his doctor.’
‘For all I know you’re giving the guy a cut.’
Deciding to ignore such a contemptible remark, Kirsten simply smiled. ‘Dyllis Fisher isn’t contesting the will, Mr Campbell,’ she said, ‘because she doesn’t want people to know the real truth of her marriage. Which they would if I decided to speak out.’
‘Is that some kind of a threat?’ Campbell challenged, hooking an arm over the back of his chair. God, she was fascinating.
‘No, just a fact.’
Campbell laughed mirthlessly. ‘No, I’m not buying it,’ he said. ‘If Dyllis Fisher had anything to fear from you she’d never have taken you on so publicly.’
‘Dyllis Fisher is relying totally on my discretion because she knows she can. I would never do anything that would in any way discredit Paul’s name or his memory, both of which would become subject to the distortions of the press if I decided to tell my side of the story. In other words, Mr Campbell, I did, and still do, care far more for Paul than I do my own reputation, which you have to agree is more than can be said for Dyllis Fisher with her accusations of senility . . .’
Campbell was shaking his head. ‘Nice try, but we both know why you’re not taking Dyllis on and it’s got sweet f.a. to do with preserving an old man’s name. You’re keeping quiet for one reason and one reason only, because you don’t want any more sordid little secrets dug out of that shady past of yours.’
Kirsten could see by the look on his face that he hoped he’d hit a raw nerve. He had, but she wasn’t going to give him any satisfaction by showing it. ‘You’re right, Mr Campbell,’ she said evenly, ‘I have no desire to see any details of my life, sordid or otherwise, spread across the newspapers. And you’re right again when you intimate that Mrs Fisher has a great deal more power than I do. She can, and will I imagine, try her very best to see that I never work again. I assume she would deem that as some kind of victory, though quite what she stands to gain from such a victory escapes me. But it is because she is so determined to ruin me that I am appealing to you now, and not to her. When I returned to England it was to try to pick up my life and start again. This would have been difficult under any circumstances, given the length of my absence, but with this vendetta going on it is impossible. So, I want to ask you to leave me alone.’
Outwardly, Campbell was regarding her expectantly, as though waiting for her to continue, but his inner-eye could see the return of those destitute years looming. God, she was really getting to him. ‘Look,’ he heard himself saying, ‘if you’re trying to elicit my support here you might as well forget it, ’cos even if I gave it it wouldn’t do you any good. If you want to call this to a halt it’s Dyllis you should be talking to.’
‘But you and I both know that she’d never agree to see me.’
He cocked an eyebrow. ‘So you’re asking me to mediate?’
Kirsten nodded. ‘In a way.’
‘But Kirsten, you’ve got nothing to bargain with. That woman wants you dead.’
‘That doesn’t mean that you have to help her.’
‘It does. Believe me.’
‘But why?’
‘It’s a long story. But let me tell you this, you’re better off with me handling this than you are anyone else.’
‘Oh, do me a favour!’ Kirsten cried. ‘With all the lies you’ve . . .’
‘Laurence is a friend of mine,’ he interrupted, craning his neck to look at something across the restaurant. His eyes came back to hers.
Kirsten was very still. The mention of Laurence’s name was so unexpected she simply didn’t know what to say.
Campbell, almost as shoc
ked as she was at what he’d just confided regarded her with cool, inscrutable eyes, but inside he was reeling. Shit! Holy Christ! He knew he was a sucker for a pretty face, but this was unbelievable. This woman, he knew for a fact, was still in love with Laurence. She’d befriended his nanny, she’d gone to his party – she was after breaking up his goddamned marriage and he was sitting here like some love-lorn teenager gazing into her eyes and practically telling her he would help her! And right now Dyllis Fisher herself was sitting over in the corner watching his every move.
He was about to speak when Kirsten, picking up her purse, said, ‘I can see that I’ve been wasting my time.’
‘I don’t see what that’s got to do with anything,’ he said, startling her as much with his non-sequitur as the way he had suddenly raised his voice. ‘But I’ll tell you what does. What does is the fact that you’re not looking to get your career back on the line at all. What you’re looking for is the next marriage to bust up.’ His voice lowered as he pushed his face towards her. ‘But like I said, Laurence McAllister is a friend of mine, a very close friend, and so’s his wife. So you keep away from them, do you hear me?’ He drew back and once again raised his voice. ‘You keep right away or I personally am going to blast you so fucking hard you’ll wish you’d never been born. Are you receiving me?’
Kirsten was stunned. The outburst had been so sudden and so vicious she had no idea where it had come from.
‘And as for making an appeal to my better nature,’ he went on before she could speak. ‘Don’t bother because I haven’t got one. But I’ll tell you what, I’ll take what you’re offering to get me off this vendetta – but before I do I’ll be wanting to see the results of a few tests, ’cos from all I’ve been hearing about you you’ve been round the block a few too many times . . .’
He got no further. Kirsten’s movement was so swift that no one else in the restaurant could have seen it, even Campbell didn’t know it was coming until Dyllis Fisher’s face, together with the huge stained-glass windows, tilted before his eyes and a wash of gin and tonic splashed across his neck. And by the time he realized what had happened Kirsten had already left the restaurant.