by Susan Lewis
‘No!’ she cried. ‘No, we weren’t. Don’t you understand what happened then? Didn’t it once occur to you that it was the only time in our married life you had ever made love to me that way? That all these years I’ve known that you’ve been holding back on me, that all the time you’ve been crying out for her! That day proved it, Laurence. I always knew it, but that day showed me that what you and I had was never the same as what you’d had with her. And you still crave it, Laurence. You want her every bit as much now as you ever did. It’s like you’re saving yourself for her. You’ve always said you can never forgive her, but don’t you understand, Laurence, you long to forgive her. So why don’t you let . . .’
‘No!’ he roared and Pippa cowered away as he stormed towards her. ‘You’re not blaming me for this, Pippa! I’m not going to let you, do you hear me? What I had with Kirsten is over, in the past. You’re the only woman I want, you always will be.’ In his fury he hadn’t realized that Pippa hadn’t even mentioned Kirsten’s name, but Pippa did and she gave a sad smile as she looked up at him. ‘You’ve got to understand,’ he raged on, ‘that the only reason I ever held back was to protect you. You’re so damned fragile, so precious to me, I didn’t want to hurt you . . .’ Suddenly he laughed bitterly as he thought of Zaccheo. ‘God, what a fool I am!’ he spat. ‘What a fucking mess I’ve made of everything.’
‘Face the truth, Laurence,’ Pippa said softly. ‘For God’s sake accept it and stop torturing yourself this way.’ She jumped as Laurence grabbed her arm and twisted it away from her body.
‘You’re still doing it!’ he yelled. ‘You’re still trying to convince me – or is it yourself – that I’m in love with someone else just so’s you can ease your own guilt. Well it’s not going to work, Pippa. I love you, I’ve always loved you and nothing you or anyone else says is going to change that. You’re the mother of my son –’ His voice suddenly caught in his throat and he turned abruptly away. To think of Tom now was too much to bear. Yet at the same time he yearned to see that beloved little face, to hold him in his arms and let him know that nothing, just nothing in the whole damned world would ever part them.
‘I left him with you because I know you’ll be a much better father than I ever could be a mother,’ Pippa said. ‘But please don’t think that it hasn’t hurt me to do it. I love him, Laurence, believe me, I love him as much as any mother can love her child. But I’m just not up to it. I can’t give him what he needs. Don’t ask me why, I just can’t. So I did what I thought was best for him, what I know to be best for him. He’s your son, Laurence. He loves you and we both know that if he were given the choice he would rather be with you.’
Laurence’s smile was vicious. ‘And it would have nothing to do with the fact that he’d get in the way over here, I suppose? That Zaccheo wouldn’t want a three-year-old cramping his life?’
‘It’s true,’ Pippa said calmly, ‘it would be difficult to have Tom here. But if I thought it was best for him, I’d have brought him.’
‘Over my dead body,’ Laurence snarled.
Pippa turned her face away, looking at but not seeing the garish painting that covered the chimney breast. All the time they had been arguing the sky outside had been darkening and now there was very little light in the room. She wanted this to be over, she wanted him to go, but even as she thought it she felt devastated by the knowledge that it would then be over – forever – between them. Nothing in her life would ever be as difficult as this, but her conviction that she was right to have left him was absolute.
Laurence’s voice suddenly punctured the silence. ‘Doesn’t it bother you to know that he’s been sleeping with Kirsten?’ he snapped.
‘Probably as much as it bothers you,’ she shot back.
‘Then I take it you couldn’t give a fuck,’ he shouted, his inner frustration manifesting itself in the tightness of his jaw and the clenching of his fists.
‘You’re wrong,’ she said, forcing herself to remain calm. It hadn’t escaped her that for the second time in her life she was committing herself to a man who had loved Kirsten Meredith. Except, she reminded herself, Zaccheo hadn’t loved Kirsten. He’d merely used her to while away the time until she, Pippa, arrived. ‘I do care,’ she went on. ‘But I can handle it. And shall I tell you why? Because Zaccheo hasn’t lied to me about it. He’s told me everything that happened between them, exactly what his feelings are for her, which is more than you’ve ever done, Laurence. More, I think, than you are capable of doing.’
Laurence’s temper exploded and before he could stop himself he had grabbed her up from the sofa and was shaking her so hard he felt he might crush the tiny bones under his fingers. ‘You fool!’ he groaned. ‘You bloody fool! You’re destroying us, you’re destroying everything we ever had because of some goddamned illusion. She’s gone, do you hear me? Gone from my life, gone from my mind. I don’t have to talk about her, I don’t have to tell you anything about her, because there’s nothing to tell. Everything I have, everything I do, everything I am is for you. I don’t feel the need to sleep with anyone else because I have all I want in you. Can Zaccheo tell you the same? Can you seriously believe he’ll remain faithful to you? You know his reputation, for Christ’s sake! Do you think that’s going to change? Do you think you’re so special you can –’
‘Yes, Laurence,’ Zaccheo said, ‘she is that special.’
Laurence swung round. As he did so Pippa wrenched herself free and staggered back against the sofa. Suddenly she cried out as Laurence advanced on Zaccheo. She ran after him, throwing herself between them at the very instant Laurence’s fist flew through the air. It connected with the side of her head and she slumped to the floor.
Horrified, both Zaccheo and Laurence stared down at her for one moment frozen with shock. Laurence was the first to stoop, lifting her shoulders, cradling her head and frantically whispering her name.
Pippa’s eyes blinked open. It was clear that the force of the blow had dazed her, but as she fought to focus on Laurence’s face he felt as though his heart was being torn in two. Her expression, in those fleeting seconds before her eyes hunted around for Zaccheo, was one of profound regret and sad understanding.
‘Pip, I’m sorry,’ he said helplessly. ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s all right,’ she murmured, reaching a hand out to Zaccheo who was kneeling the other side of her. And, as she weakly strained towards him, Laurence’s loss and grief expanded through his entire body.
Letting her go he eased himself back to his feet and stood staring down at them. Zaccheo was holding her now, engulfing her with his immensity. He was murmuring to her in Italian and as Pippa’s fragile hand came up to stroke the wiry hair of his face Laurence had never felt more of an intruder in his life. He took a step back, hardly able to believe that it was his own wife he was watching turn to another man for comfort. His mind recoiled from the reality that their sudden togetherness showed him. This was how it would be from now on. It was this man, no more than a stranger now, who would hold his wife, who would love her and cherish her. It was to him she would turn for the love and laughter in her life. In his arms she would seek her happiness, and it would be for his heart that she would care.
His sense of defeat was almost crippling, but somehow Laurence managed to turn away, to walk across the room towards the door. Once again Tom’s face flashed before his eyes and as the overpowering need for his son engulfed him he felt the tears welling in his eyes. Somehow he would deal with this, somehow he would manage to hold himself together, but what about Tom? How was he ever going to explain to a three-year-old child that his Mummy had gone and was never coming back? That his Mummy just didn’t love him enough to stay? But of course he would never tell Tom that.
He was already half out the door when he heard Pippa say his name. He turned back to see Zaccheo helping her to her feet.
‘Laurence, I’m sorry,’ she whispered.
Laurence lowered his eyes and was about to walk on when she spoke again.
‘I know right now you’ll find this very hard to hear but one day you’ll thank me for this.’
A grim smile crossed Laurence’s mouth. ‘No, Pippa,’ he said, ‘you’re wrong. I’ll never do that.’
‘You will. And so too will Kirsten.’
Laurence’s eyes looked right into hers as he answered. ‘You’re wrong about that too,’ he said. ‘And maybe one day you’ll know just how wrong.’
11
‘What on earth are you doing here?’ Campbell choked, fumbling his cup back into the saucer and spilling the coffee.
‘I might well ask you the same question,’ Helena responded looking pointedly at Campbell’s companion.
‘This is one of my regular haunts,’ he said, trying and failing to master his unease.
‘Is that right?’ Helena was still looking at Ruby.
‘Oh, uh, this is Ruby Collins,’ Campbell said, belatedly getting to his feet. ‘Ruby, Helena Johnson.’
Helena and Ruby exchanged sugary smiles. Helena wasn’t entirely sure where she’d heard the name Ruby Collins before, but it would come to her.
‘Won’t you join us?’ Campbell offered.
Helena’s thick brows arched as she regarded him. This was the first time they’d seen each other since the night they’d spent at Kirsten’s and Helena had been trying desperately hard not to mind that he hadn’t called. But the truth was she did mind and seeing him sitting here with this woman was bothering her a whole lot more. Her eyes flickered towards Ruby. She looked a bit old for Campbell, but there was a certain sort of glamour about her even if it was, to Helena’s mind, seedy. She glanced at her watch. ‘Well, actually I’m meeting someone,’ she said, but the instant she sensed Ruby’s relief she added, ‘I’m a bit early though.’ Which, thank God, was true for of all the people to run into when she was having a clandestine coffee with Jane, Dermott Campbell had to be about the most unfortunate. Still, should Jane arrive early she’d make up some excuse because nothing was going to tear her away from this little tête-à-tête now.
‘What’ll you have?’ Campbell asked as he pulled out a chair for Helena to sit down.
‘Espresso, thanks.’ She looked at Ruby again, whose eyes were narrowed as she peered back through a cloud of cigarette smoke. ‘I hope you don’t object to me joining you, Ruby,’ Helena said sweetly.
‘Joining me to what?’ Ruby retorted, her pencilled brows loftily raised.
Helena blinked.
Campbell laughed.
Helena looked at him. ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘was that a joke?’ and throwing back her head she laughed too.
Ruby watched her, a supercilious smile curving her heavily lipsticked mouth.
Campbell cleared his throat. ‘So, Helena,’ he said, ‘how are you?’
‘Pretty good,’ she answered. ‘Actually I was just thinking about you the other day – wondering if you’d managed to get it up yet,’ she added spitefully.
She had the satisfaction of seeing Campbell colour before Ruby said, ‘I guess you have your answer now.’
‘Yeah,’ Helena said, sweeping Ruby with her eyes, ‘I guess I do.’ She turned to Campbell. ‘I had no idea you were into Help the Aged.’
Campbell squirmed.
Ruby laughed. ‘Tut, tut,’ she said, shaking her head, ‘not very subtle.’
Helena’s teeth clenched. Ruby was right, she’d allowed her claws out too far. Shit! she suddenly thought to herself, what am I doing? It’s only Dermott Campbell and who the hell is he anyway?
‘So what do you do with yourself, Helena?’ Ruby drawled.
‘I’m an actress,’ Helena replied. ‘And a pretty good one, actually,’ she added shooting a meaningful look at Campbell. ‘And you, Ruby? What do you do?’
‘Ruby’s writing the screenplay for Laurence’s next movie,’ Campbell chipped in.
‘Oh, is that right?’ Helena said, suddenly wanting to kick herself for getting on the wrong side of this dragon. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Pretty good, from my point of view,’ Ruby answered.
‘Not so good from Laurence’s,’ Campbell added.
Helena looked at him, waiting for him to elaborate.
‘Do you know Laurence, Helena?’ Ruby enquired, grinding out her cigarette.
‘I used to.’
Ruby’s head tilted to one side as she put a fresh cigarette between her lips.
‘Ruby and I were just discussing how best to help Laurence over this bad time,’ Campbell said.
Helena’s big eyes flashed her surprise. ‘From what I remember of Laurence,’ she said, ‘I wouldn’t have thought he’d much appreciate –’
‘Laurence doesn’t always know what’s good for him,’ Ruby interrupted, with such a condescending smile Helena would have liked to punch it.
‘And you do? Know what’s good for him?’ Helena said.
Again that nauseating smile. ‘I do,’ Ruby confirmed.
Helena was tempted to ask by what right Ruby gave herself such delusions of grandeur, but wasn’t too sure she wanted to get into it.
‘Ruby and Laurence go back a long way,’ Campbell provided. ‘She knows him pretty well. You’ve seen him over a few bad times, isn’t that right, Ruby?’
‘One or two,’ she nodded. ‘He was much younger then, of course. Well, weren’t we all?’ she laughed.
‘I expect you were quite a looker in those days,’ Helena said, unable to stop herself.
‘You’re right. I was.’
‘So,’ Campbell rushed in, ‘who are you meeting, Helena?’
‘Just a friend. Someone else who knows Laurence, actually.’
‘Oh?’ Ruby’s interest was evident.
Assuming Helena meant Kirsten Campbell waded in again, for he was only too aware of Ruby’s feelings towards the woman who, as Ruby put it, damned near broke Laurence’s heart. ‘Actually, I think it’s about time we got on over there and met Willie Henderson, don’t you, Ruby?’ he said.
‘Willie Henderson? The director?’ Helena enquired.
‘That’s him. Laurence has just hired him.’
Helena looked confused. It was none of her business, but she was going to ask anyway. ‘So what are you meeting him for?’ she asked Campbell.
To her surprise Campbell looked decidedly uncomfortable.
‘Dermott,’ Ruby answered, ‘is about to become second producer on our movie, isn’t that right, honey?’
‘Well . . .’ Campbell shrugged.
‘But you’ve never produced anything in your life.’ Helena objected, trying not to laugh.
‘There’s always a first time,’ Campbell said, obviously wishing he was somewhere else.
‘Laurence has said we need someone else,’ Ruby smiled, ‘especially now that Tom no longer has a mother. His time’s pretty taken up with the boy, so I said we should give Dermott a try.’
‘And Laurence has agreed?’ Helena said incredulously.
‘Not in so many words,’ Campbell admitted. ‘It’s still under discussion. But there’s no harm in meeting the director.’ He glanced uneasily at Ruby. ‘The script needs a bit of a workover . . .’
‘And you reckon you’re the one to do it?’
‘No. The director’s doing that. But that’s why I’m going to this meeting, so I can listen in, find out what’s what. How these things are done.’
‘And what about your column?’
‘Well . . .’
‘He wants to give it up,’ Ruby answered for him. ‘And so he should. Having to go about the place pretending he’s some vulgar individual who actually enjoys prying into other people’s affairs when he’s so obviously a sensitive, caring human being!’
Helena’s eyes grew so big that Campbell couldn’t bear to look. ‘Excuse me,’ she said to Ruby, ‘assuming that we are talking about the same person here, how does being sensitive and caring qualify him to produce?’
‘We’ll let Laurence be the judge of that, shall we?’ Ruby smiled, picking up her bag a
nd getting to her feet.
‘It was a pleasure meeting you, Helena.’
‘The pleasure,’ Helena said, ‘was all mine.’
Ruby walked to the door, Campbell, holding back to put money on the table, said, ‘Don’t mock it, Helena. It could be a new start – and just the one I’m looking for.’
‘Then I wish you luck,’ she said, looking across the café towards Ruby who had reached the door.
‘It’s not what you think,’ Campbell said.
‘Isn’t it?’
‘Can I call you?’
‘I’ve got nothing to tell you about Kirsten.’
He seemed hurt by the response. ‘How is she?’ he asked.
‘How do you think? Thanks to your employer she can’t even get herself arrested.’
Campbell looked at her steadily. ‘I’ve missed you,’ he said.
‘Me? Or Kirsten?’
‘You. I’ll call you,’ and with that he was gone.
It was some ten minutes or so later that Jane arrived, by which time Helena had worked herself to quite a pitch of excitement. This jealousy she had of Kirsten made her feel so damned guilty that she was constantly thinking of ways to try and make it up to her. Now, after what Campbell had unwittingly thrown in her lap, she was pretty certain that she had, well, the answer to everything. And the one person who could help her get things on the road happened to be Jane.
‘Hello,’ Jane said, shrugging her shoulders awkwardly as she reached the table. ‘Sorry I’m a bit late.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Helena told her, practically shoving her into a chair. ‘What would you like to drink? Bring us two glasses of wine,’ she said to the waiter. ‘So what have you been doing with yourself, Jane?’
‘Well, actually, not as much as you might think,’ Jane answered. ‘Now that Pippa’s not there any more I thought I’d have more to do, but Laurence seems to want to do it all himself. He hardly ever lets Tom out of his sight, they even sleep together now.’
‘Really,’ Helena said, shaking her head sadly. ‘I guess it must be real tough for him. How’s he bearing up?’
‘It’s difficult to say,’ Jane answered. ‘He’s really bad tempered. Not with me or Tom, but with everyone else. He’s never really bad tempered with us. He told me yesterday what a great job I was doing. I don’t expect I am, but it was nice of him to say so, don’t you think?’