by Susan Lewis
‘Did I remember to tell you, my family enjoyed meeting you on New Year’s Eve?’ he said.
The intimacy in his voice stole right into her. ‘I enjoyed meeting them,’ she answered, looking at him again. ‘And I’m sorry if I wasn’t, well,’ she gave a playful raise of her eyebrows, ‘quite myself.’
‘You’re going through a tough time. I heard about the spread in Hello!’
Allyson coloured, and felt ashamed for him to know that Bob had treated her so badly.
The phone buzzed on his desk and he reached behind him for the extension.
‘Tessa Dukes is on the line,’ Corinne told him.
His eyes moved to Allyson. ‘Tell her I’ll get back to her.’
‘She says it’s urgent.’
‘The answer’s still the same,’ he said, and hung up.
Allyson wondered who he didn’t want to talk to. Obviously it was a woman, and she wondered if it was the one he’d taken to the Clausonnes’ in France.
‘I need to ask you a favour,’ he said, his attention on her again.
Allyson looked intrigued.
‘Nick and I have a hotel in Ravello, Italy,’ he said. ‘The renovation is complete and it should be due to open sometime in March, enough time to get through the worst of its teething problems before the summer season starts. The favour I’m asking is if you’d consider making the hotel’s launch the subject of one of your programmes. From my point of view the publicity would be excellent, and from yours the party would be worth going to. The company publicists will draw up a list of who to invite, it should be suitably celebrity-heavy, and the setting on the Amalfi Coast is extremely picturesque.’
Allyson was laughing. ‘You’re asking me?’ she said. ‘You’re the boss. If you want us to go to Ravello then to Ravello we shall go.’
‘It’s not an order. It’s a request. As the producer you tell me if you’re happy about making it one of your programmes.’
‘I’d be very happy,’ she said. ‘Obviously I’ll need more information and we’d probably want to be involved in drawing up the guest list, but on the face of it it sounds absolutely perfect.’
Though he was still smiling, his eyes appeared suddenly darker as he looked at her in a way that seemed to be moving past the veneer of professionalism and politeness. ‘There’s something else I’m going to ask,’ he told her.
She waited, feeling a shortening of her breath and a wonderful anticipation tightening her insides.
‘Nick normally takes care of the hotels and restaurants,’ he said, ‘but he can’t get over in the foreseeable future. That means I’ll have to go to Italy to talk to the new manager and take care of the pre-opening business. As you’ll need to recce the place I thought we could go together.’
Allyson’s breath had stopped. Her eyes were now on her drink, as her heart succumbed to an extremely unsteady beat. This was clearly a romantic proposal and she wanted more than anything to say yes. But how could she when she knew how much it would hurt Shelley? ‘If … If you’re meaning what I think you might be meaning,’ she said, looking at him again, ‘then I’m afraid I can’t.’
He seemed neither surprised nor put out by her response. ‘Because of Shelley?’ he said. ‘Or because of your husband?’
‘Because of Shelley,’ she said frankly.
He picked up his drink and took a sip. His eyes remained on hers. Then after glancing at his watch he said, ‘There’s a painting I’m considering buying in a gallery a few streets from here. Are you free to come take a look?’
Surprised by the sudden change of subject, and slightly thrown, she shook her head. ‘I’m due at the children’s hospital in half an hour,’ she answered. ‘I go every Thursday.’ Then she added, ‘Why don’t you come with me?’
He gave it a moment’s consideration, then getting to his feet he said, ‘OK, let’s do that.’
Allyson could never have dreamt what a big deal it was for him to make the hospital visit, because, until he told her on the way there, she knew nothing about the daughter Nick and Claudia had lost to leukaemia at the age of three. It was clear from the way Mark spoke of it how deeply the death had affected him too, so Allyson wondered if this visit was going to be too distressing, since his niece had died less than a year ago. But he insisted they should go. He’d gained a lot of experience with sick children after all the time he’d spent with Michaela and the other kids who’d been in the hospital with her, so why not put it to some use?
And indeed, they’d only been in the cancer ward a few minutes before he had his jacket off and was down on his knees playing trains, making tours of dolls’ houses, getting shot at and keeling over, or being jumped on and brutally roughed up. Very soon Allyson was laughing along with the visiting parents at the children’s eagerness to claim his attention, and delight when they made him groan in pain or shoot back with gunfire.
Leaving him to it, Allyson went to talk to the nurses and various care-givers, most of whom she knew well from her many visits with Bob, and whom she felt to be equally as deserving of attention.
‘Because everyone thrives on praise and recognition,’ she explained to Mark when finally they left. ‘What the nurses and volunteers do for those kids is wonderful. They need to know they’re appreciated. We all need that, but what these people do really matters. It’s why I wanted to concentrate one programme a week on recognizing those who do things for others.’ She turned and smiled up into his face. ‘The soapbox goes everywhere with me.’
Laughing, he raised an arm to hail a passing taxi. ‘Where’re you going now?’ he asked, as the taxi pulled up.
She shrugged. ‘Home, I guess. Unless you’re free for dinner.’
‘I’m afraid not,’ he answered. ‘But I’ll take a rain check?’
‘OK.’ As she climbed into the taxi she was struggling with the disappointment that he’d said no more about Italy. Had he been free for dinner she might have returned to the subject herself, though to what end she couldn’t be sure, except maybe to hear him say that Shelley shouldn’t be a consideration. But even if he said it, Shelley still would be, so really there was no more to discuss, was there?
It was nine in the morning when Tessa rang Mark Reiner at his home in Eaton Square. ‘I waited three hours for you to call back last night,’ she told him.
‘I’m sorry, something came up.’
‘I know. It’s in the paper this morning, how you and Allyson visited the children’s hospital last night.’
He hadn’t seen the papers yet, but it didn’t surprise him. ‘What can I do for you?’ he said.
‘Your secretary tells me you’re going to Paris today.’
He waited.
‘When will you be back?’
‘Probably at the weekend.’
‘Great, because I’ve been invited to this charity dinner at the Inn on the Park next Thursday and I was hoping you’d come with me.’
‘I’m afraid that’s not possible. You should ask one of the directors to go with you, or a reporter.’
‘I’d prefer it to be you.’
He looked at his watch. ‘Tessa, I have to go,’ he said, ‘I’ve got a plane to catch.’
He put down the phone and walked along the hall to where he’d left his luggage, just inside the front door. He’d like to think he was wrong about this, and Tessa was being no more than a needy, slightly temperamental novice of an artiste. But if his suspicions were correct, and she had transferred her affections to him, then he was a very long way from being flattered. In fact, he was far closer to being angry and concerned, for it certainly hadn’t escaped his attention that her interest in him had neatly coincided with his in Allyson. Exactly what that meant he wasn’t yet sure, but he’d no doubt find out soon enough – just as Tessa Dukes would find out that he was no Bob Jaymes who responded to the tiresomely irrational whims of a teenage girl as though they were some kind of magic charm that was impossible to resist.
A week had gone by since Shelley had learned abo
ut the proposed programme in Italy, a week in which she had kept her distance from Allyson. She knew she should tell Allyson to go on the recce, that it was the only honourable course to take, but she just couldn’t make herself do it. To sidestep any attempts at confrontation, she made a great show of having far more pressing matters to deal with, which she did, for as the show’s editor she had eleven more programmes a month to get on the air than Allyson had. She was also still very much involved in Tessa’s progress as a presenter, which was why she was with her in her dressing room, late one afternoon, when Tessa took a call from Mark Reiner.
‘Oh, hi Mark,’ Tessa cried cheerfully. ‘How are you? Did you see the programme?’
Shelley couldn’t hear the response, but she saw the glow on Tessa’s face.
‘How was Paris?’ Tessa asked.
His reply was brief, because Tessa was talking again. ‘So when am I going to see you?’ she asked. ‘Tomorrow? That’s great. What time?’
Shelley continued to look at the script, slightly stunned by what she was hearing, if she was indeed reading it correctly. Surely Tessa Dukes wasn’t setting her sights on Mark Reiner? She suddenly turned cold as she remembered that was the precise phrase Bob had used when he’d told her Tessa had found someone else. But Mark Reiner? It didn’t sound very plausible, though Tessa was an odd fish and there was never any knowing what went on in her head. She had to be into self-delusion in a big way though if she thought she was going to get anywhere with Mark Reiner, for, Allyson aside, the man was just too sophisticated to be impressed by the likes of Tessa Dukes.
‘OK, well don’t forget to come and say hi to me,’ Tessa said, ‘I’ll pass you over to Shelley.’ She held out the phone. ‘Mark Reiner, for you.’
Shelley’s heart skipped a beat. This would be the first time they’d spoken since the day she’d all but begged him to see her, and she’d have preferred it not to be in front of Tessa. ‘Hello,’ she said coolly.
‘Shelley. I’d like to see you,’ he said. ‘I thought I’d come down there after the recording tomorrow. Will I catch you?’
‘Of course. Shall we roll out the red carpet? It’ll be your first visit.’
‘Keep it low-key. It’s a personal matter.’
After he’d rung off Shelley could feel an unsteady sensation swirling through her insides, then noticing that Tessa was watching her she picked up the script and said, ‘I think we’re finished here, don’t you?’
‘OK,’ Tessa answered. ‘But just before you go, did Allyson talk to you about the programme in Italy? The one Mark Reiner wants us to set in his hotel?’
‘Yes,’ Shelley answered. ‘What about it?’
Tessa shrugged. ‘I just wondered if we were going to be doing it.’
‘We’ve got the one in Austria to get through first. Is that all?’
Tessa nodded, then went to pick up the phone as it rang again.
Shelley returned to her office, slightly perturbed by Tessa, and extremely anxious about the personal matter Mark Reiner was coming here to discuss. She felt sure it was going to be about the programme in Italy, and she’d give almost anything to avoid it. However, she could be wrong, it could be about something else entirely, and knowing there was a danger she was going to drive herself crazy trying to guess what it could be, she tried to put it out of her mind.
However, by the time the next day’s recording began she’d been unable to stop herself exploring every conceivable possibility, from him inviting her to recce Ravello now that Allyson had turned him down, to him getting rid of her so he could hand the entire programme over to Allyson. The latter was nonsense of course, and she had no intention of subscribing to that kind of paranoia, though she had to admit that now the thought had entered her head …
But no, swinging back and forth between such sublime promise and destructive fear wasn’t only exhausting, it was degrading for a woman like her, who normally knew very well how to deal with men. And despite his apparent reluctance, and even attraction to Allyson, whilst on an upswing Shelley simply couldn’t be convinced that Mark Reiner’s interest in her was no more than the smoke of an extinguished candle.
After the recording she took advantage of Allyson’s absence in Austria by using her dressing room to touch up her make-up and change into something less formal than the suit she’d been in all day. It occurred to her, as she pulled on a pair of cream leather trousers and a black silk shirt, how much she would enjoy having sex with him, right here in Allyson’s dressing room. It would be a delicious payback, and a fabulously awkward spanner to throw into the works, should Allyson just happen to find out.
She was still enlarging on this particularly thrilling fantasy when Marvin rang to tell her Mark had arrived.
‘Could you show him down here?’ Shelley said.
Minutes later there was a knock on the door, and, with a calmness she was far from feeling, she called for him to come in.
‘Hi,’ she said, looking up from the pile of paperwork she’d provided herself with. ‘It’s usually noisy in the office straight after the recording, so I thought it would be easier for us to talk here. Did Marvin offer you some coffee?’
‘I’m OK,’ he said.
She waved him to a seat and wished she didn’t feel quite so uptight, or so desirous of pressing her body to his in order to attain the reassuring heat of his response. Smiling, she said, ‘So, you’re impressed with the way things are going?’
‘It certainly seems to be working,’ he answered. ‘The ratings didn’t go up any further this week, but the previous increase was good enough to sustain my confidence.’
She was picturing his long dark hair the way it was when it fell over his face during the vigorous throes of his lovemaking. ‘So Tessa was a good choice?’ she said.
‘Her novelty value appears to be paying off. The real test will come once that runs out.’
‘I think she’s good enough to keep it going. She gets better all the time.’
He didn’t argue with that, he simply took the conversation to where he wanted it to be. ‘Can I presume that Allyson’s spoken to you about the hotel in Ravello?’ he said.
As she nodded she could feel her insides tensing with a deeply unpleasant tightness. ‘It’s a good idea,’ she said mildly. ‘It should make an excellent programme.’
‘I’m glad you think so.’ He waited for her eyes to return to his. ‘I need to visit the hotel prior to its opening,’ he told her, ‘and I want to take Allyson with me. I think she’d come were she not afraid of upsetting you.’
Shelley could feel a slow paralysis creeping through her brain. Her smile had gone and the skin under her clothes cringed with the shame of rejection.
As though sensing how badly she’d taken it, his voice seemed much softer as he said, ‘This may be unnecessary, but I want you to know that I’m truly sorry if I led you to think there might be something between us. It wasn’t my intention, but I understand that you might have read it that way.’
Still she couldn’t speak. His chivalry in taking the blame, when she was the one who had done all the running, was making it so much worse.
He waited for a moment, then said, ‘I’d like you to tell Allyson that you don’t have a problem with her coming to Italy.’
The words were out before Shelley could stop them. ‘Has it crossed your mind that maybe she doesn’t want to go and she’s using me as an excuse?’ she snapped waspishly.
His eyes showed his regret that he was hurting her. ‘If she needed an excuse she’d have used her husband,’ he said.
‘From whom she is still very much on the rebound.’
‘I know.’ He got to his feet. ‘I hope when I next speak to Allyson she’ll tell me she’s coming to Ravello,’ he said.
Shelley remained where she was long after he’d gone, hot tears scalding her eyes, horrible emotions burning her heart. Of course she had no choice now but to tell Allyson she didn’t mind about Ravello. How clever of him to come here and ask, no, tell her
in person. She couldn’t say no to that, could she? She couldn’t say no to anything, because if she did there was every chance she’d end up losing her job. And where would she be then, with no man, no best friend, and no Soirée? Oh God, she hated the world. Hated it. Hated it! And it was only by some miracle of supreme self-control that she stopped herself smashing the dressing room mirror in a fit of uncontrollable rage.
The sun was warm on her face, the breeze gentle in her hair as she stood on the balcony looking down over the clustered red rooftops of the villages below. They were surrounded by lushly ripening orange and lemon groves, that stepped down to the glittering sweep of an impossibly blue sea whose only movement seemed to be in the foam that swirled around the foot of the cliffs. Beside her, almost within reaching distance, were the proudly curved feathers of a tall, carefully tended palm; immediately behind her was the arched doorway that led back into her room, which was cool and airy, with white marble floors and elegant Italian antique furniture.
She’d always loved Italy, for its drama and romance, its artistry and its history, and as she stood there in the fresh morning air she was entranced by the feeling that in these next few days she was going to come to love it even more.
Her feet had barely had time to touch the ground from Austria before she’d taken off again to fly here. They’d arrived last night, in the dark, seeing little of the countryside as they’d driven down from Naples, and talked of previous experiences in Italy, but never of whom they’d been with. The general manager, Giovanni, and his wife had been waiting at the door of the magnificent rose-pink palazzo to greet them, making a big fuss of organizing their luggage, which had to be carried from a splendid courtyard along a narrow cobbled lane to the hotel’s front door. The smell of freshly applied paint assailed them as they walked in, along with the glossy, airy vision of an exquisite white marble floor, stark white walls, two polished mahogany reception desks and a new delivery of beautiful silk-upholstered sofas, in blues and creams and golds, that were yet to be arranged in the piano bar. This was at the foot of the marble steps that opened out of the lobby towards windows and a terrace that night had shrouded in darkness.