by Sara Craven
I laid the bait, he thought with anguish. I set the trap— and now I'm caught in it myself. And she doesn't give a damn about me. She's still caught up with that worthless piece of trash.
And—somehow—I have to live with that. If I can.
CHAPTER TEN
When Declan did not return to the office, Olivia realised he'd gone straight into his scheduled meeting.
He must have been on one hell of a bender, because he'd looked really ill, she thought with a pang, although, admittedly, his condition didn't deserve that much sympathy.
He'd looked at her as if he didn't recognise her. Almost as if he'd forgotten she'd taken Kim's place.
She wondered if it was the aftermath of her birthday which had prompted Him to drink too much. If he might have regretted his attempt at seduction and been angered by her rejection of his advances.
But she couldn't really believe that. He wouldn't take it that seriously, she told herself. He'd just shrug it off with one of his crooked grins. Phone another lady on the list.
Meanwhile she had, she hoped, got things more into perspective herself. Home was a healing place, she thought, and the rawness in her heart had been assuaged somewhat by her parents' open delight in seeing her.
She'd had to act her socks off, pretending that everything in the garden was roses, however. She'd talked brightly about her job, and the television personalities she'd already met through it Described her flat and, with affection, Sasha, but spoken of her plans to move. And she hadn't once mentioned Declan.
'So what did you do yesterday, darling?' her mother had asked eagerly. 'Have you met someone nice?'
'No one serious,' Olivia had said, reflecting that it was no more than the truth.
After lunch, she'd gone for a long walk with the dog, so that she could think.
Firstly, she'd decided, she would have to try and put things right with Jeremy. London had obviously gone to his head a little, and she couldn't blame him for that, but when the novelty wore off, and he'd calmed down a little, she would be waiting for him, she told herself resolutely.
They both had things to forgive each other for, but maybe it would make their relationship stronger in the end.
It had all been good, positive stuff, and she only wished she could feel more cheerful about it.
As for Declan, she'd thought, biting her lip until she'd tasted blood, he was simply a charmer who enjoyed women, and there was no need to take anything that had happened between them seriously. He couldn't resist flirting, or going further if he was encouraged, and she'd be a fool to let it get to her, or allow this stupid crush on him to develop any further.
I'm no better than those autograph-hunters, she'd told herself. I need to forget the fantasy and concentrate on what's real in my life.
She'd come to work, armed with that determination, and then she'd seen Declan in the doorway, staring at her as if she were a ghost, and found herself crucified by an impulse to go to him and hold him until the nightmare in his head vanished.
Except I could be the nightmare, she realised sadly. And if it's true, I cannot bear to know.
And, on that thought, she resolved to go on to Stage B of her plan.
'You're leaving?' Sasha's voice rose in astonishment 'But, darling, why?'
'Louise in Accounts has a flatmate who's getting married. And I'd be sharing with three others.' Olivia smiled resolutely. 'At the moment I feel a bit isolated.'
'Yes,' Sasha said distractedly. 'I can see that But I thought… Well, never mind that. Where is this flat?'
'Wandsworth. Louise took me to see it in my lunch-hour. It's an older house, with really big rooms.'
Sasha nodded. 'When do you want to move out?'
'The wedding's in three weeks but I can move in the week before.' Olivia hesitated. 'But I don't want to leave you in the lurch.'
'You won't,' Sasha said briskly. 'Tenants come and go, and there's usually another waiting in the wings. I often think my basement is something of a rite of passage—a staging post in the search for a real life. But I didn't think you'd find yours in Wandsworth.'
'You make it sound like the Gobi Desert,' Olivia said, amused in spite of herself.
'Wait until you've lived there for a while,' Sasha said darkly. She gave a little sigh. 'Humph and I will miss you. Promise you'll keep in touch.'
'Yes, of course,' Olivia said awkwardly, not knowing if this was a promise she'd be able to keep.
When she returned to her basement, her mobile phone was ringing.
'Livvy, my sweet?'
'Oh,' she said. 'Jeremy. How was the conference?'
'Bloody dire,' he said. 'A complete disaster from beginning to end.' He spoke with enough feeling to convince her that his weekend, however he'd spent it, had not gone according to plan.
But then neither had hers.
'Did you have a good birthday?'
'Fine;' She paused. 'Thank you for your present.'
'Oh, it was nothing.'
You can say that again, Olivia thought, then kicked herself mentally. She was supposed to be building bridges here. Looking for a fresh start.
And sometimes it was better not to have too much imagination. Which was why she'd put Declan's paperweight away in a drawer.
'Listen,' he said. 'I've been neglecting you shamefully. I suppose you've already eaten, but we could always go to a cinema. There's a new French film on that's had rave reviews,' he added eagerly. 'What do you say?'
She said gently, 'I'd love to. Where shall I meet you?' He was really trying to make amends, she thought as she collected her jacket and bag, because he hated foreign films. Not so long ago she'd have been singing with happiness. Now, she felt quiet, and a little bleak. But he was trying—and she would too.
It was an odd week, with Jeremy trying to second-guess her every wish, and Declan strangely remote—even taciturn. When he spoke to her it was only about work, and the atmosphere was heavy between diem.
Even the news that the Prime Ministers series had definitely been commissioned by a major network couldn't lift it.
It was almost a relief when he told her abruptly that he was taking some leave, and would be away the following week.
'Are you going somewhere nice?' She tried to smile, wanting, somehow, to ease things back on the old footing. But the icy look he gave her said plainly she was wasting her time.
'I'm going to Ireland.'
And are you going alone? was what she longed to ask next, but dared not.
Instead, she said, 'I hope you have a wonderful time. You've been looking tired.'
'I'm gratified by your interest,' Declan said coldly. 'But it's quite unnecessary. And I'd appreciate being able to sign those letters I gave you before I leave tonight'
Swine, Olivia thought hotly. Whatever his personal opinion of her, he couldn't fault her efficiency as his assistant.
She said, 'They're ready—sir,' and banged them down on the desk in front of him so hard she nearly barked her knuckles.
'I've found a flat,' Jeremy told her over dinner that night.
'Oh,' she said. 'That's—good.'
'Well, you might show a little more enthusiasm,' he said pettishly. 'God knows you've been harping on about it ever since you got here.'
She sighed. 'I'm sorry. Tell me where it is—everything about it'
'It's in Notting Hill again,' he said. 'I mean—that's absolutely the in place at the moment'
'Which is important, of course.'
'Yes, it is,' he said crossly. 'Honestly, Livvy, you have to learn about these things.'
Her hand touched the bowl of her wine glass. She remembered another rounded crystal shape, with a pink rose held for ever at its heart, and felt the breath catch in her throat.
She said, 'Maybe I feel it's more important to find where you really belong—and go there.'
'What on earth are you talking about?'
'Nothing at all. It doesn't matter.' She smiled at him. 'When are you moving?'
'Next
week. The present tenant's going back to Australia for a couple of years, so I can rent until he returns, then look round for something to buy.'
'Then you'll beat me to it,' she said. 'I have another ten days before I transfer to Louise's flat.'
'Louise's flat?' Jeremy repeated. 'Darling, don't be silly. You'll be moving in with me—just as we always planned.'
A great stillness seemed to settle around her. There was an icy silence screaming inside her head.
'Livvy—didn't you hear what I said?' He was smiling triumphantly. 'We're going to be together at last.'
She found a voice from somewhere. 'Do you think that's wise?'
'What do you mean?'
'Wouldn't it be better to leave things as they are—until you're divorced anyway?'
'That could take for ever.' He reached across the table, putting his hand on hers. 'Livvy, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I don't want to wait any longer.'
Olivia stared down at the table. This change of heart, she thought, seemed to stem from her birthday weekend, and his sudden absence. Something had clearly happened which had made him see her in a new and favourable light.
She would probably never know what it was, but then, she thought with a pang, she had her own secrets.
'Besides,' he went on, I'm rather counting on you. Do you know how much the rent is?'
'Then find someone to share with you,' she said gently. 'Advertise for a flatmate. Make sure you get references.'
'Oh, for God's sake.' He threw himself back in his chair. 'What is your problem?'
'I don't think I have one,' she said equably. I'm moving in with Louise, Hilary and Tricia. You're the one with the outsize rent.'
'Sometimes,' he said slowly, 'I really think I don't know you at all.'
'How could you?' she said. 'I've only recently discovered myself.' She looked at the dish of fresh peach icecream which had just been placed in front of her. For a brief moment she saw with total clarity the sun on the river, with the great looming bulk of the Tower in the background. And Declan laughing at her—bending forward…
Something closed in her throat, and she pushed the dish away. 'I'm not really hungry any more.'
'Leave it, then. Listen, Livvy.' Jeremy leaned forward again. 'Even if we don't live together, things don't have to go on as they are.' He laughed rather nervously. 'I mean, this celibate life is rather getting me down.'
The frozen feeling inside her deepened with the certainty that he was lying—and that it didn't matter.
'And as it happens,' he continued eagerly, 'Declan's going off to Ireland for a few days, so I'll have the house to myself.'
'Yes,' she said unguardedly, 'I know.'
He frowned 'How do you know? Through that Sasha woman?'
'No.' She looked at him calmly. 'I work at Declan's production company—as his personal assistant.'
'What?' The word was explosive. 'Why didn't you tell me?'
'I wanted to,' she said. 'But you never seemed very in—in my work—my wishes—anything.'
He looked at her, his eyes narrowed. 'Then I wish you luck,' he said. 'He's got a hell of a nasty tongue on him when he wants. And a temper.'
'Then I'd better stay well out of his personal territory,' Olivia returned levelly.
He said sulkily, 'Anyone would think you didn't want to be with me. You seemed keen enough once—when we never had the chance.'
She sighed. 'A lot of things have happened over the past few weeks.' She gave him a straight look. 'Maybe we both need to examine our feelings.'
Although she didn't need to, she thought, as she lay in bed that night, staring into the darkness.
She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when she'd ceased to be in love with Jeremy. Maybe the first sense of disillusion had set in before she ever came to London, when she'd realised he'd made his plans without consulting her even marginally.
Looking back, she suspected all she'd ever felt was infatuation, triggered by her childhood memories of this golden, god-like figure.
My God, she thought. Every girl in the village was dotty about him. And when I met him again I turned him back into my girlhood fantasy. And I didn't look too closely, in case I saw something that didn't quite fit.
He even told me his wife didn't understand him, she thought, with self-derision. And I fell for it.
She could see now the future she'd planned with him had never had any substance. Jeremy didn't really want a wife, a home and all the responsibilities that went with them. He already had all that, and couldn't hack it. He'd simply told her what she'd wanted to hear, so that he could get her into bed.
And when she hadn't fallen into his hand like an apple from a tree he'd gone off to play the field elsewhere.
When he came to London, he was giving me the brush-off as well as his wife, she thought wryly. And everyone knew it but me.
It worried her that she didn't care more. She should be heartbroken—suicidal at the collapse of her dream—yet she was only sorry she'd wasted so much time and emotion on him.
Maybe that makes me as shallow and self-serving as he is, she thought, grimacing.
Except that she knew heartbreak could well be waiting for her very soon. Because recognising the truth about Jeremy had only made her see with piercing clarity what she truly felt for Declan. And it terrified her.
Because it wasn't a passing attraction. It was the kind of agonising need that could tear you apart The kind of tenderness that could heal any wound and make you whole again. She wanted him completely—as her friend, her lover, and the father of her children. She wanted to share peace with him as well as passion, and be the one who lit the laughter in his eyes.
The barriers were down now, and she had nowhere she could hide from the truth.
That was why she'd been clinging on to the myth of her relationship with Jeremy—because it was safer than admitting the truth of her own heart.
I've found the place where I belong, she thought, and it's with Declan—at his side for ever.
Only Declan didn't feel like that, and she would have to bear the pain of that knowledge for the rest of her life. All he'd offered her, after all, was a few brief hours in a hotel room near the Embankment And now they were strangers again—or worse than strangers.
She would almost have welcomed back the scorn and hostility of their first encounters rather than this—chilling indifference.
But the choice was not hers to make.
Some day, she thought, I won't feel like this. Some day…
But there would be many long and lonely hours to endure before it dawned.
When she arrived at work on Monday, she was waylaid by Carol.
'Don't think you're going to swan about in Declan's absence,' she said aggressively. 'It's time you started this training programme we've heard so much about.'
'Fine,' Olivia returned, and when the other woman had marched off turned to Mimi, who was flicking through a fashion magazine. 'Why is she like that? Is it something I've done?'
'Nah.' Mimi shook her head. It's nothing personal. Carol only likes stupid people because they make her look good. She was the same with Kim.' She paused. 'And she's jealous, of course. She's always had a thing about Declan, and when Kim got pregnant she saw it as her chance to work for him.'
'Does Declan know this?'
Mimi shrugged. 'He doesn't miss much. That's probably why she's still in Admin. He wouldn't be unkind to her, but he'd make sure he kept her at a distance. Froze her out The last thing he wants is some PA drooling over him.'
'Oh,' Olivia said in a hollow voice. 'I see.'
She went up to the office and stood looking round her. So, she now knew the reason for Declan's cold behaviour.
He must know me better than I know myself, she thought unhappily. But how much more can I take? Maybe it would be better to cut my losses now.
She'd spent the whole weekend, it seemed, arguing with herself, yet she still didn't know which would hurt the most—continuing to work
for Declan in this new, icy formality, or leaving and never seeing him again, except as an image on the television screen.
She sat down in his chair, spreading her hands along his desk, tasting tears, thick and bitter, in her throat. Her heart felt like a frozen stone in her chest.
She found the inscription from the sundial burning in her brain. 'Love makes Time pass. Time makes Love pass.' And prayed with all her soul that it was true.
It was the longest week of her life. Olivia tried to throw herself into the simple training programme that she'd debut it was hard to concentrate when your heart and mind were several hundred miles away in Ireland.
She wondered if he was with the pretty blonde she'd seen in the restaurant They looked right together, she told herself dispassionately, both of them glamorous and assured. Familiar with each other's world. Everything she herself was not.
Perhaps he'd taken her to see the alternative life that he might return to one day. To find out if she'd be prepared to share it with him.
Each evening, before she went home, she walked in the garden, drawn reluctantly to the bench near the sundial, wondering every time whether she might find Declan there. But she was always alone. No ghost lover touched her hair, or waited for her at the end of the labyrinth of her unhappy thoughts.
One night Louise took her to a wine bar to meet her fellow tenants, and she talked and laughed as if she didn't have a care in the world, determined to make a good impression. Because this was the start of the rest of her life.
On Friday morning, she was in the office dealing with the mail when the phone rang. Her heartbeat quickened as she reached for the receiver, wondering, as always, if it might be Declan.
'Hi, Livvy.' It was Jeremy, sounding pleased with himself. 'Just to let you know I've moved into my new place.'
'You've moved already?' Olivia frowned 'Is that what you planned?'
'It's what I've done, so what does it matter?' he said with a touch of impatience. 'And I've decided to throw a little house-warming bash tomorrow evening—-eight o'clock onwards.'