Vengeance

by Susan Lewis

  ‘You did what?’ Helena shrieked, gripping her sides with laughter. ‘Oh, tell me again! Tell me again!’

  ‘I tipped him backwards off his chair,’ Kirsten answered with only the ghost of a smile.

  ‘Oh, what I wouldn’t have given to see his face,’ Helena gasped. ‘So what happened then?’

  ‘I walked out. I could see I was wasting my time so there was no point in staying.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Helena said, dabbing her eyes, ‘but I did try to warn you. Dermott Campbell just doesn’t have a better side to his nature.’

  ‘Yes, well that’s as may be,’ Kirsten said, ‘but the real point here is that I’ve achieved nothing.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ a voice behind them said.

  Helena started. She’d forgotten Jane was there. She turned and watched Jane as she carried a tray of coffee to the table.

  Jane looked at them sheepishly, clearly embarrassed by her moment of indignation. ‘You had the guts to go out there and confront him,’ she said awkwardly. ‘I’d say that was an achievement.’

  From the look on Kirsten’s face it was obvious she didn’t agree. ‘But to what end?’ she said. ‘If anything he’s just going to renew his attack on me now.’ She shuddered. ‘I dread to think what he’s going to write in tomorrow’s paper.’

  Even Helena sobered at that for there was no denying that Campbell would go to town on what had taken place at the restaurant that day. ‘You haven’t actually told us yet what he said that made you bash him,’ she reminded Kirsten.

  Before she could stop herself Kirsten had glanced at Jane, which in itself was answer enough for Helena.

  Jane looked from one to the other of them, then realizing that Kirsten didn’t want to elaborate in front of her she sprang to her feet, almost knocking over her chair. ‘Um, uh, I think I’ll just go to the loo,’ she said and hurried off.

  Helena waited until she heard the lock of the downstairs bathroom click before turning to Kirsten. ‘What’s she doing here?’ she whispered.

  Kirsten grinned. ‘She brought round a pyjama case she made for me.’

  ‘A what?’ Helena cried, screwing up her nose and laughing. ‘She’s got a real crush on you, you know that, don’t you?’

  Kirsten nodded. ‘She’s kind of sweet though, don’t you think?’

  Helena shrugged. ‘She’s OK. Not much of a looker though, is she?’

  ‘Sssh, she’ll hear you,’ Kirsten said, turning to look over her shoulder.

  Helena waved a dismissive hand in the direction of the bathroom, then clearly discarding all thoughts of Jane she said, ‘Do I take it Campbell said something about Laurence?’

  ‘He did. He accused me of trying to break up his marriage.’

  ‘What!’ Helena hissed. ‘But how on earth does he know about you and Laurence?’

  ‘He could have found out any number of ways, but I imagine Dyllis Fisher told . . .’ she broke off as the bathroom door opened and Jane’s anxious face peeped round the corner.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Kirsten laughed. ‘You can come out.’

  As Jane came back into the kitchen she looked so painfully uncomfortable that, as she passed, Kirsten took her hand and squeezed it. ‘Dermott Campbell said something about Laurence,’ she told her causing Helena’s eyes to fly open.

  ‘Are you sure this is wise?’ Helena said, casting a quick look at Jane.

  ‘Jane was there when Laurence told Pippa to throw me out,’ Kirsten reminded her. ‘So I would imagine,’ she added, turning to Jane, ‘that Jane has managed to deduce for herself that Laurence and I . . . knew each other . . .’

  ‘But she works for the man,’ Helena protested.

  ‘I’m fully aware of that,’ Kirsten smiled.

  Jane was watching them. ‘I won’t say anything,’ she assured them, suddenly realizing they were both looking at her. ‘Honestly, I wouldn’t dream of it.’

  ‘I know you wouldn’t,’ Kirsten said.

  Helena almost burst out laughing then at the look of near devotion Kirsten received. She was about to speak when Jane said, ‘Actually, I did work it out for myself, but Pippa told me anyway.’

  Kirsten’s eyes darted to Helena’s whose surprise was as evident as her own. ‘And exactly what did Pippa say?’ Helena asked.

  Jane’s pallid little face was filling with colour. ‘Just that Kirsten and Laurence had known each other five years ago and that Kirsten took it pretty hard when they broke up,’ she said.

  ‘But how did you and Pippa come to be talking about Kirsten in the first place?’ Helena asked, voicing the question she knew was in Kirsten’s mind.

  ‘Umm, I can’t really remember,’ Jane said turning fearful eyes to Kirsten. ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ she went on, ‘but I told Pippa that I’d been to see you. I felt I had to.’

  ‘No, it’s all right,’ Kirsten said. ‘What did she say?’

  ‘That she had no right to choose my friends,’ Jane lied.

  ‘What about Laurence?’ Helena asked. ‘Does he know that you’ve been coming here?’

  ‘Not unless Pippa’s told him.’

  The three of them sat in silence for a moment staring down at their coffee cups. Then Helena and Kirsten looked up as Jane got to her feet. ‘I think I’d better be going now,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to pick Tom up from his grandparents.’

  Kirsten saw her to the door, then strolling thoughtfully back down the hall she said, ‘Do you think Pippa would have told him Jane’s coming here?’

  ‘God knows,’ Helena answered. ‘Would it bother you if she had?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Yes, I suppose it would.’

  ‘Then why keep inviting her? I mean, if he doesn’t know already he’s bound to find out some time.’

  ‘Actually, I don’t invite her. She just calls up and asks if she can come.’

  Helena’s brows knitted together as she concentrated on her thoughts. Then raising curious eyes to Kirsten’s, she said, ‘You don’t suppose that Dermott Campbell’s somehow found out she’s coming here? I mean, if he has, it could well be the grounds for his accusation. After all, you’ve only got to look at Jane to wonder why someone like you would have her as a friend if not to get closer to Laurence?’

  ‘Oh God,’ Kirsten groaned. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. But how would he have found out?’

  ‘Well I wouldn’t imagine that Jane had told him. Pippa might have, however.’

  ‘Oh, I wish this would all just go away,’ Kirsten groaned, burying her face in her hands. ‘All I want is to be able to get on with my life.’

  ‘Then I’d start by telling Jane not to come here any more.’

  ‘I can’t do that,’ Kirsten sighed. ‘At least I could I suppose. But I feel sorry for her. Don’t you?’

  ‘Not particularly.’

  Kirsten laughed. ‘I didn’t think you would, somehow.’

  ‘Actually, I don’t have any feelings about the girl one way or the other, all that concerns me is how your friendship with her is going to be construed, because the last thing you need right now is more bad press.’

  ‘Mmm. You’re right.’ She let her mind drift back over the conversation she’d had with Campbell, then pursing her lips, she said, ‘You know, Campbell didn’t say so in so many words, in fact it’s probably just my own paranoia making me think it, but I reckon what he’s really after is the reason why Laurence and I broke up.’

  Helena frowned. ‘But why would that be of any interest to anyone all these years later?’

  ‘Because,’ Kirsten answered, measuring Helena with her eyes, ‘Dyllis believes that I did something back then that I’d give my entire fortune, my entire life, never to be made public.’

  Helena’s bright eyes darkened with interest. ‘And did you?’ she said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you going to tell me what it was?’

  After long moments of deliberation Kirsten shook her head.

  ‘Is it so terrible?’

 
; ‘For me, yes. Less so for Laurence, but I don’t imagine he’d ever want it made public, either.’

  ‘Oh God, I’m dying of curiosity here,’ Helena wailed. ‘Did Paul know?’

  ‘Of course he did. It was partly the reason he left Dyllis. Oh, he had plans to retire to the South of France without her, but when I . . . did what I did, he brought them forward and went then. Still,’ she said with a sudden briskness, ‘as Campbell pointed out, Laurence is a friend of his, so we’ll just have to hope that he’s loyal enough a friend to keep Laurence’s name out of things. And without Laurence’s name the story won’t really stand up. No, what concerns me right at this moment is what to do about Jane.’

  ‘Just dump her,’ Helena said, pouring fresh coffee into her cup.

  ‘You can be so cruel sometimes,’ Kirsten laughed.

  ‘Well, she’s not exactly going to leave a gaping hole in your life, is she?’

  ‘No, but . . .’

  ‘. . . you’ll leave one in hers,’ Helena finished.

  ‘I wasn’t going to say that. What I was going to say is before I tell her she can’t come here any more I want to try and find out for sure if it’s Pippa who’s been giving Dermott Campbell his information. Jane might not know of course, but I’ll bet she could find out.’

  ‘I’ll bet she could too. The way that girl blends into the background is damned spooky, if you ask me.’

  ‘But in this instance it’s something of a gift.’

  ‘Mmm. You know,’ Helena said thoughtfully, after a pause, ‘I don’t really see how it can be Pippa, not when so much of the early stuff Campbell wrote happened long before you knew Laurence.’

  ‘But Laurence knows about it, I told him. He might have told Pippa.’

  ‘OK. And if it is her, what are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Maybe it’ll mean speaking to Laurence. That is, if he’ll speak to me, which I doubt.’

  ‘Well, I guess you’ll have to cross that bridge when you come to it. But would I be right if I said that your suspicions of Pippa let me off the hook?’

  ‘You?’ Kirsten laughed.

  ‘Yeah, me. Oh, come on, don’t tell me it never crossed your mind. I mean, who knows you – and your past – better than I do?’

  ‘No one, I suppose. But truthfully, it never even occurred to me that you’d be behind it all.’

  ‘So you trust me implicitly?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Then for God’s sake tell me what happened back then!’

  7

  Everyone was unnervingly silent. The only sound was that of the sombre news from Bosnia issuing from the radio and the delicate clatter of cups as they were lifted or replaced in their saucers.

  Laurence, Pippa and Jane were all half-hidden behind the newspapers Campbell had just handed them; Tom, lying on a beanbag and sucking his thumb, was watching a muted cartoon on the TV.

  The article they were all engrossed in was a long one, written mainly by Campbell, but edited by Dyllis Fisher. Over a week had gone by since Campbell had seen Kirsten at Bibendum and in all that time he had been doing battle with Dyllis to try and stop Laurence’s name going to print. He’d succeeded, this time, but even so the innuendo wasn’t going to be lost on Laurence. Which was why Campbell had judged it wiser to bring the paper round himself so that he could – at least in some way – attempt to defend himself when Laurence got sight of it.

  ‘For Christ’s sake, Dermott, this is a bit strong, isn’t it?’ Laurence said, glancing up at him.

  ‘Did she really offer to go to bed with you to get you to stop writing about her?’ Pippa asked, obviously having reached the same point as Laurence.

  ‘More or less,’ Campbell answered, running a finger under his collar as he recalled the moment it had dawned on him how he could misconstrue Kirsten’s question, ‘What will it take to stop this vendetta?’

  Laurence eyed him sceptically, before returning to the paper.

  Several more minutes ticked by. Campbell was watching Laurence’s face, bracing himself. For a moment his eyes drifted over to Jane, but they shot quickly back to Laurence as he said, ‘And just what the hell is this?’

  Jane’s head came up and to her astonishment she found he was looking at her.

  ‘Just what the hell is going on here?’ he demanded, looking from Jane to Campbell and back again. ‘Would you like to explain this?’ he said, turning back to the paper and reading aloud. “. . . adopted a new ploy in befriending nannies to get close to the children before striking at the heart of the family . . .”

  ‘It means,’ Pippa said prosaically, ‘that Jane and Kirsten have become friends.’

  Laurence’s expression was thunderous as he turned back to Jane. Jane’s face had visibly paled.

  ‘I thought Pippa might already have told you,’ she said lamely, then started as Laurence suddenly slammed down the newspaper and scooping Tom into his arms walked out of the room.

  ‘Sorry,’ Pippa said to Jane. ‘I would have told him if I’d thought it was important, I just didn’t think it was.’

  ‘Then you’re a fool, Pippa,’ Campbell told her. ‘Never underestimate what lengths women like Kirsten Meredith will go to to get what they want.’

  ‘Actually, I didn’t,’ Pippa answered. ‘I jumped to the same conclusion as you, but unlike you, Dermott, I knew what Laurence’s response would be. Anyway, how did you find out that she and Jane were friends?’

  ‘Let’s just say a little bird told me,’ Campbell answered.

  The door opened and Laurence came back into the room without Tom. ‘OK, Dermot,’ he said, ‘just what the fuck is all this about, bringing my family into your slander campaign?’

  ‘Actually, it was my way of trying to warn you,’ Campbell said, feeling a slight constriction in his throat as he lit a cigar.

  ‘There are telephones, Dermott. If you wanted to warn me . . . For Christ’s sake, do you have to smoke that thing at the breakfast table!’

  ‘Sorry,’ Campbell crushed his cigar into a saucer. ‘I think you’d better read on,’ he said miserably.

  A few minutes later Pippa looked at him incredulously. ‘She actually admitted to wanting Laurence back?’ she gasped.

  ‘Not in so many words, no,’ Campbell confessed. ‘But if you’d seen her face when I put it to her . . . Well, she physically attacked me for even suggesting she might have you in her sights,’ he added to Laurence. ‘Now if that isn’t a case of the lady doth protest too much . . .’

  ‘I don’t suppose it occured to you,’ Laurence remarked, ‘that you might just have deserved a thump for the way you’ve treated her since she was back in England?’

  ‘Funny that she chose to do it over you though, don’t you think?’ Campbell countered.

  ‘What I think is that you pushed her too far,’ Laurence retorted. ‘And you’re coming pretty close to it with me, printing stuff like this.’

  ‘There’s no mention of your name,’ Campbell pointed out.

  ‘Come off it, Dermott, anyone with half a brain can work out who you’re talking about. And I don’t want my name even associated with hers. You know that, so why the hell are you doing it?’

  Campbell looked at Pippa, then at Jane. ‘Can I speak with you alone a moment?’ he said to Laurence.

  Laurence turned to Pippa. She nodded.

  ‘Look, it’s Dyllis,’ Campbell said, as Laurence closed the study door behind them. ‘You know she’s out to get the Kirstie Doll in any way she can.’

  ‘Then let her. But tell her to keep the hell out of my life.’

  ‘I’m doing my best,’ Campbell said. ‘Believe you me, she was all for printing your name and to be frank with you I don’t think I’ll be able to stop her next time.’

  ‘Next time?’ Laurence said tightly.

  Campbell sighed. ‘All I’m saying is that Dyllis is delving deep. You and Kirsten split, Paul runs off to France with Kirsten. And something happened then . . .’ he trailed off as the blood
drained from Laurence’s face. He’d never seen him so angry.

  ‘If you print one word of that, Dermott, then I swear you’ll never set foot through my door again.’

  ‘I don’t even know what it was,’ Campbell protested.

  Laurence stared at him. ‘But Dyllis is trying to find out?’ he said.

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Shit!’ Laurence seethed. He was thinking fast. ‘Only Kirsten, Pippa and I know,’ he said. ‘She’ll never find out.’

  ‘OK. Keep it that way. It’s not a story than can easily . . .’ he stopped, horrified at what he was about to say.

  Laurence eyed him with disbelief. ‘You’re lying,’ he said, a sudden and dangerous edge to his voice. ‘You know what happened. How the hell did you find out? Kirsten would never have told you . . . Shit! Dermott, tell me it wasn’t Pippa. For God’s sake tell me . . .’

  ‘It wasn’t Pippa,’ Campbell said forcefully. ‘I swear it, Laurence. Pippa never breathed a word.’

  ‘Then who was it?’

  ‘Oh come on, Laurence,’ Campbell said in a pained voice. ‘You know a journalist never reveals his sources.’

  Laurence turned and walked over to the window. ‘So what are you going to do?’ he said, staring sightlessly out at the rain spattered street.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Christ, you just can’t print a story like . . .’

  ‘I said, nothing,’ Campbell repeated, then sinking into the nearest chair he dropped his head in his hands. ‘I guess I understand why you hate her so much now,’ he said.

  Laurence nodded absently. His mind was elsewhere, trying, but afraid, to light on that terrible week that had, in the end, killed it all. She thought he didn’t know how much she had suffered for what she’d done, but he did; Paul had told him. But Jesus Christ, did she have any idea how much he had suffered too? Even now he still couldn’t believe she had done that to him, much less herself. He wondered if he could ever forgive her. ‘You’ve got to know enough about her by now to know that if you go to print on this you’ll break her,’ he said quietly.