by Susan Lewis
When she had gone Thea crossed the room to pick up the newspaper she had left behind. She had read the story many times already that day, but something inside her was forcing her to read it again. She wished she could stop, that she could pretend that none of it was happening, for it hurt so much to see those cruel words, to wonder and not know for sure what it was doing to Laurence. If only she hadn’t set herself so vehemently against Kirsten, if only she hadn’t done what she had, then maybe she could help them now. As it was she understood completely why Laurence wouldn’t speak to her, he was trying to protect Kirsten from suffering any further at the hands of those who were so prejudiced against her. But dear God, what was he going to do to get them out of this mess? As Campbell himself had asked, where was it all going to end? Suddenly Ruby’s quote from Revelations surfaced in her mind. Equating Kirsten with the whore of Babylon was ludicrous, but Thea couldn’t stop herself wondering what had happened to the whore. Hadn’t she died by fire? Thea’s heart contracted and for a moment she was tempted to go and seek out the Bible to check. But she didn’t – it would make her as crazy as Ruby if she pursued that line.
‘Hey, come on,’ Don said, coming into the room and finding Thea with her head in her hands over the newspaper. ‘Put it away now. You’re punishing yourself needlessly. What’s done is done and there’s nothing you can do to change it.’
‘Isn’t there?’ Thea said in a strangled voice. ‘If it weren’t for me then none of this would be happening.’
‘You don’t know that for sure, and you only did what you thought was best at the time,’ Don comforted her.
‘You and I know that, but what on earth is Laurence going to say when he finds out?’
‘Did you talk to him yet?’
‘No. Jane’s answering the phone, poor thing. God only knows what it must be like in that house today. I wish Laurence would let Tom come here.’
‘I’ll tell you what, I’ll give it a go, see if he’ll talk to me,’ Don said. But when he tried the number it was busy and remained that way for the rest of the day.
It wasn’t that Kirsten and Laurence had taken the phone from the hook, it was simply that it just didn’t stop ringing. First their lawyers, then reporters, then Jane’s parents demanding she come home, then Ruby threatening to come over. Laurence dealt with Ruby, telling her they were going out so she’d be wasting her time and before she could say any more he banged down the phone. Kirsten talked to Jane, tried to coax her into doing what her parents wanted, but Jane refused to go. They needed her right now, she declared with a rare show of defiance, so she was going to stay. All Jane ever seemed to want was to feel needed and knowing that to shut her out now would hurt her immeasurably both Kirsten and Laurence agreed to let her make up her own mind. Pippa had called several times, but hers were amongst the calls Laurence was refusing to take. Sensing the atmosphere Tom stuck close to Laurence except while Laurence was speaking to Campbell when Kirsten took him upstairs to his own room to play.
So far Kirsten hadn’t allowed herself to give into the fear and panic that had threatened to overwhelm her when she’d first read the article that had gone out under Campbell’s name. It helped that she had to be strong for Laurence and Tom, but every now and again as the reality of what was happening washed over her she could feel her control slipping. She was going to lose them, she knew that, it was simply a matter of time now. She was sure Laurence felt the same way which was why he was holding on and fighting so hard. He, no more than she, wanted to accept that Dyllis, together with Campbell or Helena or both, was going to succeed in breaking them up, but when Campbell had called earlier to tell them that the police had gone to Dyllis’s office to interview her they had both known that time was fast running out.
Laurence’s lawyers had come just before lunch, fighting their way through the clutch of reporters camped outside, and hadn’t left until three. They were fully appraised of the situation, were preparing the libel suits, but until they knew what the police were intending to do with whatever information Dyllis gave them they, like Kirsten and Laurence, were forced to play the waiting game.
Kirsten knew that Laurence was in half a mind to start trusting Campbell, but though she wanted more than anything to believe that Campbell was doing all he could to help them, she couldn’t. As yet the TV interview hadn’t materialized and there was still no commitment by another paper to run his story. It was true that he was calling regularly, giving them details of what little information he was managing to glean and he had checked into a hotel somewhere in Bloomsbury, but it could all still be a ploy. Kirsten had no idea where Helena was, all she knew was that she longed to hear something to confirm that she had been wrong about Helena, but during the brief calls he had made to Laurence Campbell hadn’t mentioned her.
She was going to lose everyone in the end, Kirsten just knew it, everyone and everything including her freedom. She hated herself for being so pessimistic but it was hard not to be when she knew so little of what was really going on.
She was sitting on the end of Tom’s bed reading him a story when Jane came in.
‘Laurence has finished on the phone now,’ Jane told her solemnly.
Kirsten nodded. ‘OK, I’ll go down,’ she said.
Laurence was waiting for her in the sitting room. He looked exhausted, but there was a light in his eyes that hadn’t been there earlier.
‘What’s happened?’ she asked, going to sit beside him.
‘Campbell’s got his interview. Sky News are broadcasting it on their Live at Five programme.’
Kirsten glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes to go. This was going to be one of the worst fifteen minutes of their lives as they waited to see if Campbell would be true to his word.
He was. And as Laurence’s hand tightened over Kirsten’s they listened to Campbell repeating, almost word for word, what he had written in the article he had faxed them.
‘I regret bitterly,’ he was saying, ‘all that I have written about Kirsten Meredith in the past and I am fully prepared to admit that I am as guilty as Paul Fisher’s wife of pursuing a vendetta that is as unjustified as it is vindictive. There is no doubt in my mind, despite what Mrs Fisher has printed under my name in her paper today, that Kirsten had nothing to do with the deaths of either Anna Sage or Jake Butler. And I challenge Mrs Fisher to come up with her proof or prepare herself for one of the most costly libel suits anyone in her position has ever faced.’
‘Are you saying,’ the interviewer asked, ‘that Mrs Fisher has manufactured evidence to suggest that there was foul play regarding the, er, accidents?’
‘I don’t know what Mrs Fisher has done,’ Campbell answered, ‘but I do know that just over a year ago, at the time Kirsten returned to London, Mrs Fisher swore that she would destroy Kirsten’s life no matter what. As I said, I deeply regret ever getting involved. I was having personal problems of my own at the time, Mrs Fisher exploited them, but nothing will excuse what I have done to a woman whom I now wholeheartedly believe to be innocent of all charges being levelled against her. And with regard to Kirsten not wanting children I would suggest that you read the Express tomorrow to find out the real truth of that.’
‘Which is?’ the interviewer prompted.
‘Kirsten has an excellent relationship with Tom McAllister,’ Campbell answered. ‘Tom adores her and Kirsten, in my opinion, will make – already makes – an excellent mother. And just like her and Laurence I hope that one of these days they get to add to their family. No child could ever wish for more loving parents.’
‘I don’t believe it,’ Kirsten whispered. ‘I never dreamed he’d ever do anything like this.’
Some ten minutes later Campbell was back on the phone. ‘Did you see it?’ he said to Laurence.
‘We saw,’ Laurence answered. ‘And Dermott, I’ll never be able to thank you enough.’
‘Yeah, well, hold your horses,’ Campbell said. ‘We’re not out of the woods yet. A long way from it, in fact. I’ve just hear
d what Dyllis is planning to print in tomorrow’s papers. She going to suggest that it was Kirsten herself who told her about the abortion.’
‘What! But that’s crazy! No one’s ever going to believe that.’
‘Hear me out,’ Campbell said. ‘She’s going to say that Kirsten went behind your back and let it be known to someone who would be sure to tell Dyllis that she had that abortion just so’s Dyllis would run the story when the time came for Tom’s custody battle. In other words, by the most devious means imaginable, Kirsten is seeing to it that you don’t get custody, that she won’t have to share you, that she won’t be saddled with another woman’s child, but all the time she’s making sure to look like she wants exactly the opposite.’
Kirsten’s eyes widened with alarm as she saw Laurence’s face pale. ‘Who did tell her, Dermott?’ he whispered. ‘Do you know that?’
There was a pause at the other end and Laurence’s heart turned over. ‘You do know, don’t you?’ he said.
‘Yeah, yes I do,’ Campbell answered. ‘I found out a while ago – it was the same person who told me . . . You’re not going to like it, I’m afraid . . .’
‘Just get on with it,’ Laurence snapped.
‘It was your mother who told her,’ Campbell said flatly.
Laurence frowned. ‘My mother?’ he repeated. ‘You mean, Ruby?’
‘No, I mean Thea.’
‘What!’ Laurence hissed.
‘I’d speak to her if I were you,’ Campbell said. ‘See if she’ll do something to stop Dyllis.’
‘I’ll get right on to it. Where are you?’
‘At the Sky studios. I’ve got a few more calls to make then I’m going back to my hotel. But listen, Laurence, I know I don’t have to spell this out to you, but I’m going to. No matter what I said in that interview, nor what your mother decides to do about sorting things out her end, we still don’t any of us know what evidence Dyllis has got against Kirsten – and believe you me whatever it is it’s not going to be as easy to blow out of the water as the rest of it’s been.’
‘I know,’ Laurence said. ‘But we will. Somehow.’
Helena looked up as an oblong of flowered wallpaper opened in the wall and Campbell walked into the room. She was sitting with her back against the headboard of the bed, her legs stretched out in front of her, a remote control in her hands. ‘So,’ she said, as he took off his coat and hung it on the back of the door, ‘you’ve just earned yourself two friends for life.’
‘I did what I had to do,’ he answered.
‘Even though she’s trying to accuse me of murder?’
‘Look, what are you so worried about? The police have cleared you . . .’
‘That’s not the point, Dermott, and how do you know they’ve cleared me? They didn’t say that. In fact what they said was to let them know if I was planning any trips out of the country.’
‘They have to do that. You were on the set both times, once their enquiries really get under way, if they get under way, they’ll want to interview everyone who was there.’
‘Yeah, well,’ Helena said, throwing the remote control on the bed. ‘You try having your best friend do something like this to you and see how you feel.’
‘You try having someone you love lie to you about where she was the night Kirsten found that tape and see how you feel,’ he retorted, going to help himself from the mini-bar.
‘Well, you know where I was now,’ she said sulkily.
‘I know where you said you were. I just hope you’re not lying, Helena, ’cos if you are the police will find out.’
‘Jesus Christ!’ she cried. ‘What is it with you? Suddenly Kirsten can’t do any wrong, whereas me, the woman you profess to love, I’m a liar and a murderer.’
‘I don’t think so,’ he smiled, going to join her on the bed and handing her a beer. ‘It would help though if you could remember the kid’s name.’
‘He never told me. It was just a quick screw. I wanted to see if I still preferred young boys, or whether what I had with you was better.’
‘And is it?’ he asked, running a hand along her thigh.
‘Don’t ask me that now,’ she said, swinging her legs to the floor. ‘I don’t want to think about it. I’ve got too much else on my mind.’
33
The next day Campbell’s article was published. The other papers did follow-up stories on what had happened the day before, but from Dyllis’s papers there was a resounding and unnerving silence. Neither was there anything the next day, nor the day after that. Each morning Laurence scanned the tabloids and broadsheets that were part of Dyllis’s empire, hardly daring to hope that she might be backing down. She sure seemed to be and he wondered if it had anything to do with Thea’s threat to contradict Dyllis’s claim about where she had got her information regarding the abortion. He had no idea what his mother had said to Dyllis when the two women had spoken, he was still in no frame of mind to forgive Thea for what she had done. He hadn’t communicated with her since he’d called to demand that she tell the truth, though he had allowed Jane to take Tom round there a couple of times.
There had been no calls nor visits from the police either and Laurence was beginning to consider exactly what might happen to Dyllis if the libel suits went against her. In this instance the defamation of character was so serious he wondered if her fall from grace might actually include a jail sentence. She sure as hell should be locked up; a woman who exploited her power the way she did, harboured grudges and went about wrecking people’s lives as if she was some latter day Fury made her as dangerous as any psychopath and, for all he knew, that was just what she was.
For Kirsten the time passed in a daze. She was wholly aware of all that was going on around her, the sound of the telephone ringing; the echo of hope in Laurence’s voice; Jane’s amazement at the quantity of letters that started to pour in as a result of Campbell’s story; Tom’s glee as he skidded into the pile of multi-coloured envelopes; the cautious optimism of the lawyers; Laurence’s refusal to speak to Thea; Pippa’s calls that were filled with concern, though she was still adamant that she was going to win the custody battle; Ruby’s drunkenly deranged predictions for the future yelled from the street outside; there was so much going on it was as if a whirlwind had hit the house. Yet to Kirsten it seemed unreal, intangible, as though she were standing apart from it unable to reach it, unable to stop the storm that would eventually sweep them all from her life.
Outwardly she was responding; her skin absorbed the feel of Laurence’s arms around her, her lips smiled at his confidence and words of reassurance, her eyes watched as he played with Tom, tumbling him and tickling him, she listened to them laugh, heard them calling her name, she went to them, played with them and laughed too, but inside her heart was numb with fear.
Laurence, Jane, Campbell, even the lawyers, were all saying that the worst was over. A week had gone by since Dyllis Fisher’s article and though the writs had been served there had been no response. Campbell was no longer sure where Dyllis was, the lawyers hadn’t been able to learn anything from the police and everyone, with the exception of Kirsten, took this to mean that in the end Dyllis had been unable to make her accusations stand up. Kirsten wished she could share in their optimism, wanted so much to believe that at last Dyllis was going to leave her alone, but as the date for the custody hearing grew closer the silence was, to her, so ominous it was making her ill.
So far she had managed to hide this from Laurence, shutting herself in the bathroom and running the taps while she leaned over the lavatory and vomited. Afterwards, when she finally found the energy to lift her head she felt exhausted. Her stomach felt as though it had been pulled from its roots, her breath fluttered and panted in her lungs as her heart hammered the blood back into her veins. She longed to cry, to release at least some of the tension, but she was afraid to. Her eyes looked bruised from lack of sleep, her skin was pale from lack of nourishment. Blinding spells of dizziness descended upon her pushing her toward
s a blackness she fought hard to resist. Once she had fallen, sinking slowly, slowly to the floor, watching the walls rear up around her as vivid pinpoints of light flashed before her eyes, but somehow she’d managed to pull herself back before she’d lost consciousness.
That morning, despite her insistence that she was fine, Laurence had called in the doctor. Jane had now gone off to the chemist to get the sleeping pills that had been prescribed, though Kirsten knew she wouldn’t take them. She hadn’t been totally honest with the doctor about her symptoms – had she been she knew he’d never have prescribed Tamezepam.
Now, as she walked down the stairs, her dark amber hair shining and clean, her eyes feverishly bright and her pale face flushed with colour, Laurence looked up at her and felt his throat tighten at how very lovely, yet how fragile she looked. The anxiety in his eyes tore at Kirsten’s heart. As she reached him she lifted a hand to his face and touched him lightly.
‘I love you,’ she whispered.
‘I love you too,’ he said thickly, drawing her to him. His hands moved into her silky hair, the hardness of his limbs pressed against her bones. She was losing so much weight it was as though she was wasting away before his eyes. He clung to her, afraid that somehow she would slip away from him.
‘Kirstie, please stop shutting me out like this,’ he murmured. ‘Tell me what’s going on in your mind.’
Kirsten smiled. ‘All I think about, Laurence, is how very much you mean to me.’
‘Then why are you so sad? We’re together, we’re going to keep Tom, we’re getting through this . . .’
‘I know,’ she said, but inside she felt as though she was dying. She longed to tell him that she was pregnant, to see the joy light up his beautiful blue eyes, to feel his arms squeezing her tightly and laugh at the tears of happiness as they rolled on to his cheeks. But she couldn’t do it. Soon, very soon now, it would all come to a head and he would have to leave her. He would have to do what was best for Tom and she couldn’t use her own child to hold him when she knew already how difficult it was going to be for him to go. As it was she could hardly bring herself to think about the baby, not knowing what future she would have, where she would end up or what would become of them was too painful, too frightening to consider. She knew she was behaving like a guilty woman, was losing faith in the justice that would work for her, but unlike everyone else she didn’t underestimate Dyllis Fisher. She knew that something terrible was going to happen to her and as the silence stretched on the more powerless to control the fear she was becoming.