by Susan Lewis
Allyson smiled and nodded, then closed the door behind her.
It was several minutes before Shelley started up the video again and Tessa’s face filled the screen. But her mind was still angrily exploring the many paths of doubt and suspicion that were opening up all over the place. This was the second time Allyson had been to see Mark in a week, and it was after the last time he’d seen Allyson that he’d decided to put the brakes on his relationship with Shelley. So had something happened that day in his office, something neither of them was telling her about? Except that was crazy, for not only had Allyson appeared convincingly anxious about today’s invitation, she was, by Shelley’s reckoning, still at least five years from being over Bob. And even without Bob, Shelley just couldn’t see Allyson being Mark’s type. To start with they wouldn’t even look right together, he was so much taller, and bigger than Allyson, and there was just no way Allyson exuded the kind of sexuality a man like Mark Reiner would demand in a woman. He had standards that were exceptionally high, and a skill that justified their being met. Allyson’s experiences with Bob, the only man she’d ever slept with, simply didn’t equip her to deal with someone like Mark – and Shelley would know, for she’d made love often enough with Bob Jaymes to be aware of how limited Allyson’s technique probably was. And Shelley couldn’t see Allyson going for Mark either, as Allyson always gravitated towards the needy people, like Bob, and Tessa, and all her little charity cases. And whatever else Mark Reiner might be, he certainly wasn’t needy.
Realizing she was getting carried away, stirring up fears and insecurities that had nothing to do with reality, and everything to do with a long and carefully suppressed rivalry she felt with Allyson that Allyson wasn’t even aware of, Shelley attempted to ground herself in reason. After all, it wasn’t often that she felt this rivalry, though she had to confess that there were times when Allyson’s good nature and easy popularity did grate on her nerves. And even though Shelley would never have allowed Bob to leave Allyson during their long, bittersweet affair, the fact that he had never even shown any signs of wanting to had confused and angered her, for she simply couldn’t imagine why any man would rather be with Allyson than with her.
With Tessa’s face staring back at her from the screen Shelley felt a stab of unease sink into her heart. She had known long before Allyson that Bob was sleeping with Tessa, but it had never crossed her mind that he would leave Allyson for the girl, especially not when he hadn’t even come close to it with her. But he had, and Shelley despised him for it now, not only because of how it had so totally devastated Allyson, whom she really did care for despite all the conflicting emotions, but because of the unforgivably insulting gesture it had been to her too. However, no matter how bitterly she was smarting over Bob’s aberration with Tessa, it was nothing to how she would feel if Mark were to suffer a similar aberration with Allyson. And with Allyson being on the rebound, and in grave need of some male attention …
But no, she wasn’t going to allow herself to continue with this. Just because Mark had invited Allyson to lunch, rather than to his office, was no reason to start sharpening up the knives of jealousy and suspicion. In fact, it was crazy to be thinking this way, when people in their positions had lunch all the time, with nothing more personal on the agenda than a shared liking for fish.
Laura Risby, Tessa’s psychotherapist, led Tessa to where the car was waiting on an expired metre, a few doors down from the clinic, and settled her comfortably in the front passenger seat. The wind was blowing a bitter gale through the parallel terraces of Harley Street, bending the bare winter trees and scattering clouds of dust up into the elegant white façades. She’d heard on the radio while driving here that they were forecasting snow for Christmas.
‘OK?’ she said, fastening Tessa’s seat belt, and tucking her scarf inside her coat collar.
Tessa nodded. She was pale, but that was only to be expected. She might be a little sore for a couple of days too.
She was going to tell Bob she’d suffered a miscarriage, though Laura wondered if he’d guess the truth, with the baby’s loss coinciding so neatly with Tessa’s new status on the programme. Either way, miscarriage or abortion, Laura was curious to see if he stayed with Tessa once it really sank in that there was no longer a child. Laura had to hope he didn’t, for this wasn’t good for Tessa, sleeping with a father figure, though Laura doubted Bob had any idea that was the role he’d been cast in. And the substitute brother could prove disastrous too. But it was the punishment Tessa was both consciously and unconsciously inflicting on Allyson that was the most disturbing. Fate had rather played into Tessa’s hands by promoting her into Allyson’s position on the programme, but the rest of it, like Allyson’s husband, Allyson’s flat and even the complex need for Allyson’s approval and affection, was forcing Laura to wonder if it would be wise, even permissible, for her to talk to Allyson. However, considering this new turn of events, she felt it was probably better to wait for a while and see if Tessa’s and Bob’s relationship broke up of its own accord. She really did think it would, and, if she was right, there would be no need to step outside the bounds of professional confidentiality and interfere.
Mark was watching Allyson as she chose which of the three vegetables the waiter should put on her side plate. The man was clearly delighted to be serving someone famous and had made such a performance out of fileting her sole, he might well have been auditioning. Mercifully he’d finished before it got too embarrassing, but now it seemed that every vegetable on his platter had its own personal history, and Allyson was having to be acquainted with every one of them.
She handled it well, Mark noted with amusement, and brought it to such a smooth and satisfying conclusion that not for a minute would the waiter consider he’d been dismissed. Obviously, being who she was, she’d had a lot of practice at this, but still Mark couldn’t help being impressed with the way she’d handled not only the waiter, but the many autograph-hunters too, whose nerve to come seeking a brief word and personal inscription was boosted by a large intake of Christmas spirit – it being less than two weeks to go now. However, with the exception of the waiter, no-one had interrupted for the past five minutes, and with any luck the initial delight of spotting a celebrity was over, and they would be left to get on with their lunch. Not that he imagined Allyson was going to eat hers, it was far too big a portion, and if the way she’d pushed the avocado hors d’oeuvre round her plate was anything to go by, she had no appetite anyway.
‘So,’ she said, picking up her cutlery, ‘we’ve talked about America, we’ve discussed the earth-shattering prophecies for the new millennium, we’ve established that neither of us care much for Christmas, I’m agog to know what comes next.’
His eyes narrowed, showing his amusement. This was a different woman from the one who’d yelled at him in his office a week ago. No doubt equally as spirited, but thankfully less hostile, and though she might look like an injured bird, with her tired, watchful eyes and unsteady smile, she was staging a remarkable show of togetherness considering how tough life must be for her right now.
‘So, are you building up for something big?’ she pressed. ‘Or are you waiting for me to turn hysterical again? Most men don’t go for that, but you could be strange.’
He laughed. ‘To be frank,’ he said, ‘I’d like to be able to tell you that I’m going to give you the airtime for your social issues. But I’m not.’
Her blue eyes were holding tightly to his. ‘Yet you say you’d like to tell me,’ she said. ‘That must mean you think they’re worthwhile.’
‘I never said they weren’t. I just don’t think they’ve got a natural setting in Soirée. But as a presenter, you do. Which is why I want you to continue with the Night Cap – and why I think you should become a producer, as you yourself suggested.’
Allyson’s eyes widened with surprise. Elation was a beat behind. ‘Have you discussed this with Shelley?’ she asked.
‘No. I thought I should discuss it with you firs
t, and make sure it was what you really wanted.’
‘It is,’ she said decisively. ‘I’ve really thought about it, and I know I don’t have any credited experience as a producer, but on the whole it’s what I’m doing most of the time. You know, making decisions about what does or doesn’t go into the programme, what questions to ask, what angle to take – even what the budget should be.’ She stopped, embarrassed suddenly that she might be overdoing the zeal.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘But we’re going to have a slightly new-look programme, and I think your experience and high profile would serve us best for the monthly international transmissions.’
Allyson blinked. This was too much. She’d come here expecting … Well, she wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but after the ghastly scene she’d thrown in his office, and with the way her luck had been going lately, she’d been gearing herself up for something more along the lines of ‘Thank you, Allyson and good night’ than ‘Hello, Allyson, here’s your rescue package all laid out, ready to make you shine in a whole new way. Oh, and by the way, I hope you’re enjoying your lunch, because I certainly seem to be.’ She put down her knife and fork and lifted her napkin. Then, realizing she hadn’t eaten anything yet, she picked up her fork again. Only when she looked at him did she realize he was laughing, and to her surprise she laughed too. ‘You really are going to have to discuss that one with Shelley,’ she said.
‘I’m discussing it with you,’ he responded. ‘Is it something that interests you?’
‘That’s like asking me if I’m interested in living,’ she told him. ‘Yes, I’m interested. Though a few days ago I might not have been, but we won’t get into that.’
He’d seen the newspapers, so he knew she’d moved some belongings out of her country home at the weekend, but he had no intention of trespassing on that hallowed ground. ‘Would it be possible for you to produce the monthly slot, and to continue presenting the Night Caps?’ he asked.
She was nodding. ‘I would think so,’ she answered. ‘But we really will have to discuss this with Shelley. After all, she’s the boss.’
He waited, with ironic eyes, for her to remember whom she was talking to. When she did, she seemed absurdly and touchingly confused for a moment, then, realizing he was teasing her, she shot him a meaningful look and said, ‘OK, you’re the boss, but you’re not going to be involved in the day-to-day running of the programme, and I think Shelley would like to be consulted before she gets me foisted upon her as her brand new producer of international programmes.’
Sidestepping the Shelley issue again he said, ‘Maybe you could give some thought to the kind of shape you’d like your programmes to take. Whether you want to keep it in the exact same style as the domestic transmissions, or …’
‘I think it should stay the same,’ she interrupted. ‘At least for the first few months. Coming from a different European city each time is going to make it individual enough, if we start changing format it’ll just get confusing.’
‘And Happy Hour is something that occurs all over the Continent,’ he said, looking right into her eyes.
Allyson flushed slightly, and looked down at her plate, for she realized that this was a gentle reminder that, if this did all come off, she’d be travelling with Tessa. Several pleasing scenarios of ditching Tessa in the Danube, or shoving her off the Eiffel Tower, or making her bungee jump off the Bundesbank on a very long rope, rushed in for inspection, but the reality was, Tessa would be the star of the show and Allyson was going to have to find a way of working with her. A second later her head was up again and she was smiling. ‘Of course,’ she said, referring to Happy Hour being an international event, ‘which is why there’s no point going off-piste, so to speak, let’s just stay safe and in style for the moment. Shelley will probably be happier with that too.’
He nodded.
She wondered why she kept bringing Shelley’s name up, especially in such a sycophantic way. He was going to think she was incapable of taking a decision unless it was validated by Shelley, which wasn’t the case at all. She was just reminding him that Shelley was Soirée’s editor and senior producer and as such she should be a part of this plan. She was also, she realized, trying to get him to say something about Shelley that might give some clue as to what his feelings might be, which was not only unprofessional of her, it was also disloyal, for Shelley hadn’t asked her to do that. And besides, why should she be concerned about Shelley when, right at that moment, Shelley was heavily involved in preparing the source of all Allyson’s misery to take over the main part of Allyson’s programme. So where was the loyalty in that?
Mark’s eyes were watching her closely as she looked at him again. They were steeped in humour and had that knowing sort of look that seemed to suggest he was reading her mind. Allyson smiled, a little self-consciously, for if he was reading her mind she couldn’t exactly feel proud of what she was thinking. On the other hand she was rather enjoying the interest he seemed to be taking in her, and picking up her fork she took a delicious mouthful of fish.
He asked her then about the kind of team she’d need to staff the transmissions, and the approximate budget, as well as any early thoughts she might have on publicity. Ideas soon began spilling out of her, almost faster than she could think them, and though she quickly saw that many of them were unusable, bouncing them around with him was turning out to be an extremely exhilarating and often hilarious process. The glass of champagne he ordered to mark the launch of her new, jet-setty career slipped down rather easily too, as did the next glass, which was to celebrate Christmas and the fabulous start of their very special friendship.
Realizing that she’d got a bit gushy and over the top with that particular toast she blushed, and winced and said, ‘If I’m embarrassing you, I promise it’s nothing to what I’m doing to myself.’
Laughing, he clinked his glass against hers again, and replied, ‘It’s better than when you yell at me.’
Allyson closed her eyes and sank into a laugh. ‘Seems as though I’m destined to be a problem whichever way we look at this.’
His eyebrows arched. ‘Are you trying to trick me into such corny lines as – if only all my problems were like you? Because I can assure you I wouldn’t mind if they were, for one thing they’d make good lunch dates, and for another they’d be pretty good at making me laugh. Now, instead of ogling my dessert like that, why don’t you just have it?’
‘Oh no!’ she cried as he started to pass over his banoffi pie. Then, grinning, ‘Well, maybe just a taste.’
Not until they were leaving the restaurant, his hand at the small of her back as he steered her through the crowded lobby, did she realize that she’d just eaten an entire meal for the first time since Bob had left. She’d also drunk three glasses of champagne and was feeling wonderfully flushed and light-headed, and considerably warmer towards Mark Reiner than she had a week ago. In fact, as he handed her into the back of a taxi then got in beside her, she was starting to see why Shelley was so attracted to him. She might be too, were it not for the way her heart plummeted at the very idea of anyone other than Bob occupying that place in her life.
The week leading up to Christmas was pandemonium on all fronts. The offices and studio were decked out in glorious seasonal splendour, with huge towering Christmas trees, some in gold, some in silver, and still others all in red. The set was transformed into a wonderful Alpine cabin, with snow on the windows, a fire in the hearth and a ready supply of hot toddies at the bar. The designers had surpassed themselves this year. So too had the caterers, who were taking care of twice the number of guests, as they all began flooding in for the extra recordings to cover the holiday period. Being so rushed off their feet Allyson had yet to tell Shelley about the new producership she had discussed with Mark – a bombshell that she felt might be better coming from her than from him. She just wanted to pick her moment, sit Shelley down and take the time to explain how well this could work. It wasn’t something she was looking forward to, for
she was only too aware of how jealously Shelley guarded her position, and having decisions like this taken behind her back was going to do nothing to endear the plan to Shelley.
Then out of the blue Mark called to say he was going to talk to Shelley himself. ‘I think it should be put to her in a way that the idea seems to come from her,’ he said.
Allyson was intrigued. ‘How are you going to do that?’ she said, mildly aware of the pleasure she’d felt at hearing his voice. It was making quite a difference to her lately, knowing that she had his support and friendship, especially with Christmas increasing her depression about Bob.
‘Leave it to me. All I need you to do is act surprised when she offers you the job. Then accept.’
Allyson laughed, but there was so much noise going on in the office outside that she missed what he said next. ‘Hang on,’ she said, going to close the door. ‘That’s better. I’m sorry, what did you say?’
‘I was wondering how Tessa’s doing with her training?’ he replied.
The warmth instantly drained from Allyson’s smile. No matter how busy she was, or excited about the prospect of her new position, her hatred of Tessa Dukes, who was going to be spending Christmas with her husband, then following it up by taking over her role on her programme, was never going to wane. In fact there were times like right now, as she looked at that glowingly happy face on the monitors in the main office, when her loathing felt as if it was just getting bigger. ‘You’ll have to ask Shelley,’ she said coldly. ‘I’m not involved in the training.’
‘But you will be recording the pilots tomorrow?’
‘I’m doing my inserts separately. We won’t be in the studio together.’
‘I see.’
She imagined he did. ‘Is there anything else?’ she asked.
‘No. Well, I guess, Merry Christmas if I don’t see you before Friday.’
‘Thank you. To you too.’