by Susan Lewis
‘We won’t have to,’ Zac assured her. ‘Thibault’s going to come through, I just know it.’
Allyson grinned. ‘OK, I’ll pick you up at nine in the morning so we can go and recce the Old Town. You gave Thibault the mobile number as well, did you, Justie?’
‘Of course. But if you hear from him tonight, don’t forget to let us know.’
‘As if,’ Allyson laughed, and putting the car back into gear, she waited for them to close the doors then drove off towards the Cap.
Valerie and Jean-Marc Clausonne, the couple she was staying with, were old friends of hers and Bob’s, so she knew their villa well, having spent many long, lazy summer evenings drinking good wine and eating delicious food on their exquisite veranda that overlooked the wonderfully scallop-edged terraces of the garden, unfolding gently down to the sea. Until now she’d been anxious about returning without Bob, knowing it was almost bound to upset her, but with today having gone so well she was hardly thinking about Bob, not even as she watched the sun setting romantically over the sea, she was just looking forward to seeing Valerie and Jean-Marc.
It didn’t surprise her one bit to discover that she wasn’t their only guest, for they invariably had friends dropping in from all over the world, who were either there on business, just passing through or availing themselves of the wonderful setting and superb facilities for a two- or three-week holiday. With an eight-bedroomed Italian-style villa, a live-in staff of three, and a daily help of eight, including the gardeners, the Clausonnes could always accommodate.
Leaving her car and luggage to the butler, Allyson walked in through the wide sixteenth-century front doors, across the vast marble hallway with its curiously macabre paintings and stained-glass windows, and out through the sitting room full of pastels and Impressionists, to where Valerie was already pouring champagne into a glass for her, and making ready to introduce her to a suave-looking couple from Boston.
‘Darling, you look divine and so undamaged,’ Valerie declared, with her own inimitable frankness. She was part English, part Italian, and spoke both languages with a pronounced American accent. She had to be at least fifty, though looked closer to sixty thanks to all the hours she spent in the sun. But there was a real beauty to her face that no amount of lines could disguise, and such a playful light in her eyes that it was impossible for anyone to take offence at her outspokenness.
‘How are you?’ Allyson laughed, embracing her. ‘It’s so good to see you.’
‘I have been so worried, but look at you!’ Valerie cried. ‘Look at her,’ she demanded of her other guests. ‘Isn’t she gorgeous? Who would ever believe her husband left her for a younger woman? The man he is, pah! a fool. Allyson, you must meet Marla and Wesley Van Owen. They are very good friends of ours all the way from Boston.’
Allyson greeted the Van Owens, then was scooped into a giant bear hug by Jean-Marc as he came out onto the terrace. Like his wife he had been aged by the sun, and also like his wife he favoured flowing, brightly coloured caftans to eliminate any constriction of the blood flow in their large, overfed bodies.
Two glasses of champagne later they were joined by more friends who lived nearby, and the kitchen staff started to load the table up with food. As always chez Clausonne, the conversation was as stimulating as it was varied and with so many people from such different strata of jet-set life, it shouldn’t have been such a surprise when Mark Reiner’s name came up.
‘Did you say Mark Reiner?’ Allyson asked Wesley Van Owen. ‘Of Leisure and Media?’
‘Sure,’ Van Owen answered. ‘Why, do you know him?’
‘He’s my boss,’ she answered. ‘He’s just taken over the TV station I work for.’
‘Well, how about that?’ Van Owen said, looking at his wife.
‘Mark Reiner?’ Valerie squealed. ‘We know Mark. He is a very good friend. As a matter of fact he was here, staying with us, just a few weeks ago. Isn’t that right, Jean-Marc?’
‘Had a gorgeous lady with him,’ Jean-Marc added, his rheumy eyes twinkling. ‘What was her name? Do you remember her name, Val?’
‘Jennifer? Jane? Something like that. Was she French? I think she was French. No, maybe she was English.’
Though Allyson kept her smile in place, she was aware of the warmth seeping out of it. But Valerie had said it was a few weeks ago, it could very well be over by now. And besides, it might not have been a girlfriend. It could have been just a friend. And even if it was a girlfriend, and it was still going on, Shelley would get to find out sooner or later without it having to come from Allyson, who’d only be guessing, because she could hardly start asking who this Jennifer or Jane actually was when the subject had already moved on, and when it would almost certainly appear that she was the one who wanted to know.
‘So tell us more about this programme of yours!’ Jean-Marc demanded, as he prised a succulent langoustine from its shell. ‘We are all invited to the party, non?’
‘If it happens you can count on it,’ Allyson responded.
‘Give me the name of the person you have to convince,’ he said. ‘I’ll speak to him first thing in the morning.’
Allyson laughed. Jean-Marc loved playing Mr Fix-It, and with so many well-placed friends and influential contacts he generally succeeded. However, in this instance, she wanted to go it alone, and know that if they did manage to secure the Sporting Club it would be through their own efforts. So she made Jean-Marc swear he wouldn’t do anything unless, for some reason, M. Thibault turned them down. At that point she might consider letting Jean-Marc pull a few strings.
But there was no need, for at ten the following morning M. Thibault called her on the mobile to announce that he was delighted to offer the facilities of the Monte Carlo Sporting Club to her programme under the terms and conditions they had agreed. The second she rang off Allyson gave a scream of joy, then flung her arms round Zac and Justine as they congratulated her and themselves and swore undying love for M. Thibault and all his descendants. Losing her status as a presenter was hard, but if this first real experience as a producer was anything to go by, then Allyson strongly suspected that working behind the scenes, and out here in the field, was going to prove far more rewarding than anything she’d done before. And that in itself felt like a triumph over Tessa Dukes, not to mention a poke in the eye for Bob, who might have been deluding himself into believing that she couldn’t survive without him.
By the time the plane touched down at Heathrow Allyson was so exhausted by all the elation and intense hard work of the past couple of days – not to mention the late night she’d had at the Clausonnes’ – that instead of going straight to the office she went home first to shower and change.
After the taxi dropped her off she hurried up the stairs with her heavy bag, only to find that though the key went into the lock, for some reason it wouldn’t turn. Baffled, and not a little irritated, she was about to get out her mobile to call a locksmith when, to her amazement, Julian came bounding up the stairs behind her. He stopped dead when he saw her.
‘Julian?’ she said. ‘What are you doing here?’
He looked ready to bolt. ‘I just, well, uh Tessa left something here. I’ve come to pick it up.’
Allyson stared at him, not sure she’d heard right. ‘Tessa’s been here?’ she said, her heart starting to thump.
His colour deepened. ‘Uh, I’ve got to go.’
‘No, wait. How were you going to get in?’
He looked at her wretchedly.
‘You’ve got a key, haven’t you? They’ve changed the locks.’ She held out her hand. It was shaking, and her knees had turned weak with the shock, but her voice was icily determined as she said, ‘Give me the key.’
He didn’t put up much of a fight.
Allyson turned to open the door. ‘Come with me,’ she said. She was so angry she felt violent.
The place was a mess, newspapers and unwashed dishes all over the floor, no attempt to make the bed or pick up towels after a shower, and th
e kitchen was too horrible to face. She stalked straight into the laundry room, grabbed a roll of black plastic sacks and began filling them.
‘Help me,’ she snapped at Julian.
Obediently he took a bag and began filling it.
When Allyson was satisfied that everything of Tessa’s was gone, she made Julian help her carry the sacks down to the bins.
‘You can go now,’ she said when they’d finished.
Returning to the flat she called an emergency locksmith who came within the hour. When he’d finished she got into her car and drove to the office.
Tessa was just coming out of the studio. Whether Julian had had time to get to her before she’d gone in to record wasn’t possible to tell. Allyson didn’t care. She grabbed hold of Tessa’s arm, marched her down the corridor then flung her up against the wall.
‘If you ever set one foot inside my flat again I’ll have you arrested,’ she hissed. ‘Do you hear me?’
‘Let go of me,’ Tessa cried. ‘Just who do you think you are, pushing me around!’
At that Allyson dealt her such a resounding blow to the face that Tessa staggered sideways into a cupboard.
Allyson turned and walked away.
‘Bitch!’ Tessa screamed after her.
Allyson kept going, past those who had stopped to stare, and upstairs to the office. ‘See if you can find my husband,’ she said to Shelley’s assistant as she stalked into Shelley’s office.
Shelley looked up. ‘What’s happened?’ she said.
‘Nothing. I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to tape our first foreign programme in Monte Carlo. Oh, and if …’
The door crashed open and Tessa flew at her.
‘What the hell?’ Shelley cried, leaping to her feet.
Tessa was on Allyson’s back, clawing her hair and trying to bang her head against the wall. ‘Bitch!’ she was screaming. ‘She attacked me. Bitch!’
‘Get her off,’ Shelley demanded as Alan and Jerry ran into the office.
Quickly they grabbed Tessa and prised her away. Allyson stumbled against the desk and brushed the hair from her face. ‘I’m warning you,’ she shouted at Tessa, ‘you stay away from me and what’s mine or I’ll fucking well kill you.’
The others watched in silence as she walked out of the room.
‘I’ve got your husband on the line,’ Marvin told her.
Allyson walked right past him. ‘Tell him to die,’ she seethed.
Shelley caught up with her in the car park.
‘She tried to move into my flat,’ Allyson gasped. ‘I got back to find the locks had been changed and her and Bob’s things were all over the place. I wanted to kill her, Shell. I swear, if I had it in me …’ She took a breath. ’And as for him, I was considering giving him some money, but he can rot in hell now. They both can, because I’ve had it. They’ve turned my life upside down, they’ve mocked me, humiliated me and now they’re trying to destroy me.’ Fury was making her breath short, tears streamed down her face.
‘It’s OK,’ Shelley said, as she started to sob with anger and frustration.
‘I don’t understand it,’ Allyson raged. ‘How does a man you’ve loved for more than twenty years suddenly turn into this monster?’
‘Because like most men he’s weak,’ Shelley answered. ‘He saw something he wanted and took it, without thinking about you or anyone else. And this is what it’s got him. No job, no money and a stupid little cow of a girlfriend who he probably can’t stand any more.’
‘Then why doesn’t he leave her?’
‘Because he’s got nowhere else to go.’
‘He’s got me.’
Shelley looked at her. ‘Are you sure about that?’
Allyson looked back, her eyes dark with confusion. In the end she closed them. ‘God, I hate her,’ she said. ‘I hate her so much it scares me.’
SHELLEY
Chapter 12
‘MARK? IT’S SHELLEY.’
‘How are you?’
‘OK. I was wondering if you watched the recording last night.’
‘From Monte Carlo? It worked very well. Congratulations.’
‘Thank you. But it was Allyson’s programme.’
‘Your idea to go international,’ he reminded her.
Shelley appreciated his remembering, but could think of no suitable response. It had taken her three weeks to pluck up the courage to make this call, rehearsing what she would say, what he might say, how she would respond and how the call would end up. It all worked very well in the planning, right now though she couldn’t think how to proceed.
‘Is the crew back yet?’ he asked.
‘Tonight. Uh, I was wondering, would you be free for dinner?’
‘Tonight? I’m afraid not.’
The pounding in her heart increased. She looked down at the scribbles on her notepad, heavy lined triangles, thick circles. An empty square. ‘Any night?’ She could hardly believe she’d said that, and when he didn’t answer she wanted to ring off fast and pretend the call had never happened. ‘I was hoping,’ she said, ‘that we could talk.’
‘About?’
‘Us.’
Another silence. It was as though a hole was opening up inside her. Panic rushed to fill it, sweeping aside her dignity and forcing words from her lips that she knew already she was going to regret. ‘I thought it meant something to you, when we made love,’ she said. ‘You seemed to enjoy it.’ Oh God, where was her pride? This was horrible. Too demeaning for words.
‘It was sensational,’ he said.
‘So why don’t we do it again?’
‘It’s complicated.’
‘Because of Allyson?’ She didn’t give him time to answer. ‘She’s not ready for another relationship. She’s still a long way from getting over Bob.’
‘I’m sure.’
‘So why don’t we carry on seeing each other? You’ve got to admit we have fun together.’ Was this begging? Could this go down as begging?
Another pause before he said, ‘I’m sorry, but I’ll have to cut this call short. I have someone with me.’
‘Is Allyson with you? Is that why you won’t talk to me?’ What wretchedness was making her behave like this with a man she wanted only to impress?
‘No. I believe you know where she is.’
Of course she did. Allyson was on her way back from France, aglow with the success of her first programme as a producer. Shelley had invited her out tonight to celebrate, but Allyson wasn’t free. She’d said she was having dinner with her mother, but now Shelley had just discovered that Mark wasn’t free either …
‘I have to go,’ he said.
Shelley put the phone down. Her hand wasn’t steady, shame was burning her all over. She looked out at the production office and could only thank God that no-one out there had any idea what she’d just done. And what must he think of her now? How he must despise her. Her eyes closed as her heart filled up with misery and rage. Oh God, why had she made that call? Why couldn’t she just accept that he didn’t want her? Maybe she could if it didn’t seem to be Allyson he wanted instead. Christ, why did it have to be Allyson? Of course she had no actual proof of it, but she’d always trusted her instincts in the past, and this time they were signalling her loud and clear, because it wasn’t only the date on New Year’s Eve and the secrecy surrounding their meetings, it was also the way the crisis of Allyson’s job had been overcome in a matter of no time at all. Mark Reiner had taken care of that, even if it was Allyson’s original idea. Mark Reiner had the power to make things happen, and it seemed he was much more interested in making them happen for Allyson than he was for Shelley. Just thinking that sparked all kinds of violent impulses inside her, for she couldn’t stand the idea of Allyson and Mark being together. It was too hard to take, too cruel of fate to give the man she wanted to Allyson Jaymes.
After ending his call with Shelley Mark replaced the receiver and looked across his desk at the frankly questioning eyes that were watching h
im. She’d just returned on an early flight from France and still appeared flushed with the success of her visit.
Tessa smiled. She had no idea who he’d been talking to as he hadn’t mentioned a name. She’d noticed that he’d avoided mentioning hers also, so maybe it had been Allyson. Certainly he’d spoken to Allyson while they were in Monaco, because she, Tessa, had answered Allyson’s mobile herself. That hadn’t pleased Allyson too much, but she’d only done it because Allyson had been over the other side of the Club and no-one else had seemed inclined to pick up the phone.
After the call Allyson had announced that he’d rung to wish them all good luck. And why wouldn’t he? He was the boss, after all. But there had to have been more to the call, simply because of how long it had gone on. And the way Allyson had laughed, and seemed to glow, then taken herself off into a corner so she couldn’t be overheard, went a long way towards confirming the rumours that there really was something going on between them.
Now, as Tessa looked into his watchful dark eyes, she smiled. He didn’t smile back, nor did he look at her legs, which were amply revealed. In fact, he seemed annoyed, which perplexed her for men usually enjoyed being teased.
‘Well,’ she said, getting to her feet, ‘I suppose I’d better be going. I only came to give you my new address and make sure you were happy with the way I’m presenting the programme.’
‘Very,’ he told her, though there was no warmth to his assurance.
She looked a little lost. ‘You seem as though you’re cross with me,’ she said. ’If I’ve done something wrong, I’m sorry.’
He seemed to thaw a bit at that. ‘No, Tessa, you haven’t done anything wrong. It’s simply that I have to be somewhere …’
‘Oh, yes, I’m sorry. You’re bound to be busy. Thank you for taking the time to see me. I really appreciate it.’ She watched him as he came round his desk to see her out. Then as he passed she reached for his hand and looked up into his startled eyes. ‘If there’s anything I can do to say thank you, you know, for the chance you’ve given me …’