Vengeance

by Susan Lewis

  ‘I know,’ she said, lowering her head to watch his hands. ‘But this time has to be the last.’

  ‘That’s what you said before. So what are you doing here now?’

  ‘Don’t you like what I’m doing?’ she murmured, brushing her hips tantalizingly over his.

  ‘I like it very much, but that doesn’t answer my question.’

  ‘They’re in New Orleans so they won’t get to find out,’ she smiled, rolling lazily on to her back and taking the sheets with her.

  Campbell propped his head on one hand and as his eyes swept the long length of her body he felt his heart swell with emotion.

  There were times when he only had to look at a woman, any woman, to want to screw her, Kirsten Meredith was proof of that, but anyone would want to screw the Kirstie Doll. Not everyone would want to screw Ruby Collins though, but even she had got him so worked up he’d been willing to suffer any amount of humiliation, and if he was honest with himself it wasn’t only because he wanted the job. But with Helena it was different. He couldn’t say why exactly, it just was. That first night they’d spent together had been something special. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to screw her, Jesus, he’d wanted it more than anything, but at the same time he’d wanted to share an experience with her that he’d never had with any other woman. So, they’d just held each other, stroked each other, kissed and talked and slept. It was pretty weird, but he guessed it was the closest thing to making love he’d ever come across. Now of course they’d done the real thing, several times, and wild cat that she was, making love to her was just that – love. At least he assumed that was what it was because he didn’t want to leave her after, neither did he want to roll over and sleep. He wanted to listen to her talk, watch her smile, feel himself sinking into those huge brown eyes that were sometimes so intense they were frightening. And only with her had he ever bared his soul, telling her things about himself he’d always thought he would rather die than have anyone know. Whatever was happening between them it was pretty good and it was something he really wanted to hang on to. But that train he’d always imagined himself on, the one that was going to hit the buffers with only him on board, it was still running out of control and it was his resentment of Kirsten Meredith that was fuelling it. Somehow he had to deal with that, but just to think of her and the way she was destroying him when it was supposed to be him destroying her just caused the train to run all the faster. But Helena was with him now, Helena the witch who was changing his life . . .

  He watched his fingers as he moved them to the join of her legs and smiled at her readiness to receive him. ‘I want more for us than this,’ he whispered, turning to look at her.

  She chuckled softly then caught her breath as his fingers started to enter her. ‘What more is there?’ she groaned.

  When he didn’t answer she opened her eyes to look at him. He was looking down at her with an expression of uncertainty that brought a smile to her lips even as it tightened her heart. One minute so confident, the next so unsure. She knew now what power she had over him, if only she’d realized it sooner. It was as though her pain had locked into his, pulling him to her so that at times she felt she could control him completely. Yet couldn’t he do the same to her? They were two of a kind, life’s lost souls, so at odds with the world and the people in it that half the time they were reaching out for solace and the other half they were fighting a fate that seemed to want no part of them. She knew that he was trying to make something in his life good and he was using her to do it, but his resentment of Kirsten had reached irrational depths and Helena knew how much that frightened him. He held Kirsten responsible for the loss of his best friend, for the loss of a new beginning, for throwing him back to Dyllis Fisher. Now Kirsten was going to take her, Helena, away too, and Helena couldn’t help wondering if he would want her so much were it not Kirsten who was threatening to come between them.

  Her eyes searched the troubled lines of his face, a face that was handsome in its way, yet ravaged. There were times when the exceptional beauty of his smile could melt her heart, when the tenderness of his body could bring tears to her eyes. She had seen the man behind the bitterness, she had touched him and found him to be as vulnerable and as lonely as she. So long without love that maybe neither of them understood it any more. Perhaps they never had nor never would, but wasn’t what they had worth building on? Should she really allow Kirsten to take it from them? Kirsten, whose fate was so wrapped up in Laurence’s that there was no question they would find each other again. Why should she, Helena, remain in her world of loneliness isolated from the man whose confusion and pain ran as deep as her own, when Kirsten and Laurence were destined for a happiness she and Dermott might never otherwise find?

  As Campbell’s mouth closed over hers Helena wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. He had told her so many times that he loved her. She had no idea if it was true, but knew she would never tire of hearing it. And even if it was just a pretence, what was there to stop it becoming a reality? Only Kirsten. Kirsten and the promise she had exacted. And why should they allow their lives to be governed by a woman who had everything?

  For a moment Helena tensed as the jealousy flared. Kirsten had no doubts about her feelings for Laurence, she didn’t know what it was like to be with a man who felt so right one minute and so wrong the next. She had no idea what it was like to be so desperate that she would accept a man’s lies as truth rather than have him leave her. She wouldn’t even begin to understand what it was like to be so consumed by guilt and envy and gratitude and love the way she, Helena, was for Kirsten.

  Would Kirsten ever lie in Laurence’s arms thinking about me the way I’m lying here thinking about her? Helena asked herself. She has no idea what she does to people’s lives, the way she takes them over and commands things they might not want to give. Kirsten was as easy to hate as she was to love. She inspired as much envy as she did loyalty. Helena herself had been swept up in the magic of her, had been instrumental in getting Kirsten to where she was now, but what did she, Helena, stand to gain from it? OK, she had the part of Marie Laveau, but it wasn’t the lead role and neither was it a role by which the success of the film hung. And if she was honest with herself what did she really care about the film now she had Dermott? He would be much longer in her life than a few minutes of screen time. So should she use what influence she had to stop him avenging himself on Kirsten? Or should she just play dumb and let him get on with it? If the movie was a failure and Kirsten fell flat on her face she’d still have Laurence. Just like the last time life had dealt her a blow she’d had Paul. There was always someone there for Kirsten, she’d never suffered alone the way Helena had, so why should she, Helena, concern herself with Kirsten now?

  17

  ‘I can’t believe you just said that!’ Kirsten yelled.

  ‘Then I’ll say it again,’ Laurence yelled back. ‘If you don’t pull your finger out and give the crew proper direction then we might just as well pack up and go home now!’

  ‘So it’s all my fault!’

  ‘You’re the fucking director!’

  ‘Oh, is that so? And there was me thinking it was you . . . I mean, you spend more time talking to my assistants than I do . . .’

  ‘They come to me because you’re not making yourself plain. They need information to do their jobs and you’re not giving it to them.’

  ‘Because they won’t bloody well listen to me.’

  ‘Then make them!’ he roared. ‘If you let them run circles around you now then how the hell do you think you’re going to cope . . .’

  ‘I’ll cope! I’ll cope just fine thank you very much, but would you like to tell me precisely how I deal with that pompous prat of a first assistant who you employed and who goes behind my back at every turn telling everyone how fucking useless I am?’

  ‘Did it ever occur to you he might have a point?’

  Kirsten’s eyes blazed into his. ‘Do you think he has a point?’ she said bitingly. />
  ‘As a matter of fact I do. You’re useless at handling the crew and the crew doesn’t consist only of Jake Butler, though the rest of them might be forgiven for thinking so.’

  ‘Jake is working with me. The others are working against me . . .’

  ‘Then get them on your side. Stop putting up with the way they’re treating you and stand up for yourself. I’m not nurse-maiding you through this, Kirsten. I’ve got my own problems to deal with and I expect you to deal with yours. If you’re not up to it then I suggest you say so now before we go any further.’

  ‘Do you have any argument with my approach?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you understand what I’m trying to achieve?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then if you understand there doesn’t seem to be any reason why everyone else doesn’t, except for the fact they don’t want to.’

  ‘Then fucking well make them! How many more times do I have to say it?’

  ‘All right! All right! I’ll sit every head of department down individually and go over the script with them a page at a time and . . .’

  ‘Are you telling me you haven’t done that already?’

  ‘Of course I’ve damned well done it and I’m getting results, it’s just that it’s like pulling teeth. They’re all professionals, they’ll come up with the goods in the end, but they’re doing their utmost to undermine my confidence. Like coming here complaining to you that I’ve requested too many Walk Ons when the size of shot warrants the number I’ve asked for.’

  ‘And what about costume? Janet tells me Moyna’s costume is going to clash badly with the set out at the plantation house . . .’

  ‘It’s supposed to!’ Kirsten almost screamed. ‘I’ve told her that a thousand times. The lighting’s going to clash with it too, but did Jake come here whingeing to you? No, he accepts what I say and if he doesn’t we discuss it between us.’

  ‘Then you’d better find a way of working your charm on the others or you and I are going to seriously fall out.’

  ‘Well thank you for your support, Laurence. I don’t suppose it’s once occurred to you to tell any of them who come creeping here to you that you might just agree with what I’m doing? Or that you understand it and can’t see why they don’t? I don’t imagine it’s even entered your head to tell any of them that you believe in me, that you have confidence in my ability. But no, it wouldn’t have, would it, because you don’t? In fact you deeply regret ever asking me . . .’

  ‘Stop putting words into my mouth!’ he barked.

  ‘Words that you don’t have the guts to utter because you’ve got –’

  ‘Words that are bullshit and you know it. I have every confidence in you. I know you can do this, I know you’re going to make a terrific movie.’

  ‘Then just what the hell is all this about? What’s really bugging you, Laurence, because if anyone’s running me round in circles right now, it’s you! You criticize every damned thing I say or do. You patronize me in front of Little Joe.’

  ‘All right! You want what’s really bugging me then you got it,’ he yelled. ‘I don’t like the way you’re trying to get back with me through my son. That’s what’s really bugging me!’

  Kirsten had already drawn breath to answer, but the shock of what he’d said for the moment rendered her speechless. ‘Well,’ she said, shaking her head in disbelief, ‘you certainly know how to hit where it hurts.’

  ‘Isn’t that what you’re trying to do, making up to Tom?’ he growled, but she could see that he was already regretting his outburst.

  ‘If you’re worried about your son . . .’

  ‘It’s not Tom I’m worried about, for Christ’s sake! It’s you! Do you think I’ve forgotten what you did . . .’ he stopped suddenly as Kirsten’s face turned white.

  ‘Go on say it,’ she challenged. ‘Finish what you . . .’

  ‘Kirstie, I’m sorry. It wasn’t what I meant. It came out wrong.’

  ‘It was what you meant. You’re afraid I’ll hurt him, aren’t you?’

  ‘Of course I’m not. Jesus Christ if I thought that do you think I’d let you anywhere near him’

  ‘Then why did you say it?’

  ‘I told you, it came out wrong. What I meant to say was that I know how much . . . Oh shit!’ he groaned, starting to turn away, ‘this is all coming out wrong, but I don’t want you kidding yourself into thinking that Tom is the child we lost.’

  ‘You really believe I’m doing that?’ Kirsten said in a voice that was as incredulous as it was quiet.

  Laurence dashed a hand distractedly through his hair. She was standing so close, too close. He could feel the power of her reaching into him and right now all he wanted was to pull her into his arms. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘No, I don’t think that. Christ, I don’t know what I am thinking half the time . . .’

  ‘Then maybe it’s time you got yourself sorted out,’ Kirsten said.

  As he turned back to face her the door suddenly flew open and seeing Kirsten Tom ran excitedly into her arms.

  With her eyes still on Laurence’s Kirsten kissed the top of Tom’s head, set him down again then without another word, she turned and walked out of the room.

  She didn’t see Laurence again until the following afternoon when Little Joe came to drive them out to Honey Island – one of the largest of the Louisiana swamps. By then Laurence had tried several times to speak to her, to apologize for what he’d said, and though Kirsten had told him it didn’t matter she refused to see him on the grounds that she had too much work to get through. It was true, she did, but she knew too that if they discussed it any more he’d only end up hurting her again.

  Jake, Alison, David, the first assistant and Bob the sound man were the only ones accompanying them on the recce since it was unlikely they would use the location – it was just that Kirsten wanted to see it before making up her mind. One of the location managers had waxed lyrical about the swamp’s potential as a setting for the voodoo ceremonies, but Little Joe didn’t agree. Unless they had an endless amount of time and wanted to risk losing lives in the murky depths of the rivers and bayous then they’d be crazy to use it, he told them. The location manager had conceded that there might be problems, but insisted that with careful planning they were surmountable. Already Kirsten doubted it for the simple reason that travelling outside the New Orleans Parish to St. Tammany was just not feasible. It was going to eat into the schedule in a way they simply couldn’t afford. Apart from which, Scout Island, Joe’s find in City Park was, as far as she was concerned, a perfect location for the ritual. However, for the time being she was going to keep an open mind until she had actually seen the swamp.

  It was one-thirty by the time they arrived at the Indian Village Landing where Dr Wagner, the ecologist who lived on the swamp, was waiting for them with his boat, but the darkening sky made it seem more like dusk.

  As they climbed aboard, seating themselves along one of the two benches that stretched back to back down the centre of the boat, Kirsten was gazing across the water towards the dense, towering cypress trees that, to her, already seemed to resent the intrusion. There was no sign of the sun peering through the blanket of dismal grey cloud, there was no wind either. Everything was perfectly still, even the river currents seemed eerily motionless.

  Dr Wagner handed out blankets to put over their knees and with Laurence at one side of her and Jake the other, Kirsten folded her hands into her lap and resolved not to think any more about Laurence or what was happening between them. The fact that they were moving towards a hiatus in their personal relationship couldn’t be denied and obviously he was as aware of it as she was. Quite how or when things were going to blow up was impossible to say, but what frightened Kirsten was the lack of professionalism they were both in danger of showing. She laughed bitterly to herself at that. Laurence would never allow his feelings to get the better of him in public, it was only she who was in danger of that.

  They started out down r
iver, travelling at quite a speed to get to the bayou the location manager had set his heart on. Half a dozen or so hunters who worked with Dr Wagner and were just along for the ride, were sitting on the bench behind them, and as the boat started to slow their expert eyes began picking out the wild life secreted in the copious profusion of tupelo gum, maple and cypress trees that rose somberly and sinisterly from the stagnant water. As they pointed out great-blue herons, nutria, signs of beaver and water turkey, Kirsten’s eyes were fixed on the greasy film of brilliant green duck-weed half-dreading and half-hoping to see an alligator rise from the muddied depths.

  Suddenly it seemed to turn very cold. Kirsten looked up at the impenetrable sky then slowly lowered her eyes to the grey Spanish moss hanging from the trees like the fraying tangled briar of old men’s beards. They had turned into the bayou by now and the gnarled cypress knees protruding from the water made progress as slow as the decaying, dying gum trees that reached out towards them. They stopped for a moment to watch a racoon, high in a tree, then moved on towards the depths of the morbidly silent bayou.

  Kirsten leaned forward to rest her arms on the rail. She was aware that Laurence was watching her and had moved because she no longer wanted to feel the pressure of his body next to hers. Her lips tightened as she experienced a stinging exasperation at the way their minds and bodies were in such conflict. With the one they resisted each other with a determination and defiance that the other made a total mockery of. When at last she turned to look at him, steeling herself against him, her entire heart turned over. It was impossible to read his expression, but his dark blue eyes looked so deeply into hers she felt he might be reading her mind. Neither of them smiled, they simply looked at each other, until Kirsten returned her eyes to the grim splendour of the darkening swamp.

  The constriction in her throat prevented her from answering when Jake asked her a question, but, as his hand slid into hers she turned to him and managed to smile.

  ‘You OK,’ he whispered.