by Susan Lewis
‘Oh?’ Mark said, settling comfortably on a bench and stretching out his long legs. ‘Did it work?’
‘Oh yes,’ she answered, coming to sit next to him. ‘It was amazing. It was like I was here, living that life all over again.’
‘You were here? In Pompeii?’ he said, surprised.
She nodded. ‘At the end, I was,’ she said. ‘It’s where I died, or, as they say, left that particular life.’
He glanced at her, waiting for her to go on.
‘I was a dancing girl,’ she said. ‘In Rome. I danced for the Emperor Titus. I was also his mistress.’
He looked at her again, apparently not sure whether he should be believing this or not.
‘My family lived in Pompeii,’ she went on. ‘My brother and two sisters. I was bringing them money and trying to persuade them to leave the town when the mountain exploded. Everyone knew it would explode, it had been rumbling and spewing out lava and rocks for days, but my family were amongst those who wouldn’t leave. And then it was too late. We tried to run, but …’ She paused for a moment, then said, ‘After I died, when I left my body, I could see the Emperor Titus in his palace in Rome, and do you know the most remarkable thing?’ Her eyes were trained straight ahead, but appeared to be seeing nothing of what was in front of her. ‘He looked exactly like you.’
Mark blinked, looked at her incredulously, then, instinctively knowing he was being had, he said, ‘So that’s what happened to you! I always wondered. You were a great mistress, but boy were you a lousy dancer.’
Allyson burst out laughing at the way he’d managed to get the last word, then picking up her camera and guidebook she walked on towards the Amphitheatre and Palestra Grande.
By the time they started back to the hotel it was already getting dark, and the effects of the Campari they stopped for en route were making her yawn as she said, ‘I’m thinking about dressing up Tessa and a couple of actors and recreating a street scene for the film insert. I’ll have to look into the cost.’
‘What about Titus and his dancing girl?’
She grinned. ‘What about them?’
‘Well, if you can improve on your act, I don’t mind stepping in to become the man I once was.’
A teasing light shot to her eyes. ‘Sounds more like a scene for siesta,’ she commented.
His eyebrows made a sardonic arch. ‘Now you’re talking,’ he responded.
Laughing, she rested her head against the back of the car seat and turned to look at her reflection in the window while allowing herself the heady delight of imagining where the evening might end. He surely had to know by now how willing she was to make love, that even sitting here like this was turning into an impossible feat of self-control, for her hands were longing to touch him and her lips were actually parting in a breathy anticipation of his pressing against them. Her heart turned over at the thought of his tongue entering her mouth, then his hands were blazing a trail over her breasts, his urgency was matching hers … The potency of the fantasy was so intense she actually moaned aloud and had to cover it quickly with a cough. She turned to look at his profile in the shadowy darkness and wondered if she should tell him what she wanted, or if she should wait for him to tell her?
Shelley regarded the outside of the pub and wondered what artless soul had named it the Romeo and Juliet. Garish coloured bulbs burned around the lavender window frames and though it was hard to tell in the darkness she was sure the jazzy brickwork was painted lime green. Not the kind of place she would normally be seen in, but when needs must …
Leaving the relative safety of her car, she locked and alarmed it, then blown about by a chafing wind she ran across the deserted South London street, towards the stained-glass doors. Warmth, and the smell of beer, assailed her as she walked in, along with the latest sound from a rock band she’d probably heard of, but wasn’t in the least bit interested in identifying. She looked around the dimly lit room which was a large, irregular oval, with triangular-shaped tables and chairs, and very few people. The bar was an island of tawdriness, with mock Shakespearean props, and posters of Gwyneth Paltrow and Joseph Fiennes plastered to the pumps.
Spotting the very person she was looking for, alone in a dark corner, she skirted a couple of budding Eric Bristows and headed towards him.
‘How did you find me?’ Bob said, looking up as she reached the table.
Shelley sat down and unfastened her coat. ‘It wasn’t hard,’ she said, lowering her voice as the music stopped. ‘I had Tessa’s old address, and there aren’t too many pubs in the area. I got you on my third attempt. What are you drinking?’
‘Coke.’
She looked impressed. ‘So you’re managing to stay off it.’
‘I wasn’t an alcoholic. I drank to …’
Shelley looked up from her bag. ‘It’s OK,’ she said, ‘you’re not the first man to hide from himself inside a bottle. What are you doing about a job?’
‘I’ve done a couple of pieces for one of the tabloids. Other than that I can’t get arrested.’
‘But you did,’ she reminded him.
He eyed her nastily. ‘What do you want?’ he growled.
‘Apart from a vodka tonic, I want to talk to you. Don’t worry, I’ll get it.’
He watched her at the bar, too depressed to notice the way she turned heads. Maybe he should have left Allyson for her, he wouldn’t be in the mess he was in now if he had.
‘So,’ she said, sitting down again, ‘you’ve been on my mind quite a bit since you came to see me, which is why I came to flush you out.’
‘Am I supposed to feel honoured?’
‘If you like.’ She slipped her wallet inside her slim leather bag, then picked up her drink. ‘Would I be right in thinking you’d go back to Allyson if you could?’ she said, coming straight to the point.
‘I’d go back to a lot of things if I could,’ he snarled. ‘Even you.’
She gave a mild flicker of her eyebrows and waited for him to swallow his venom. Then inwardly she smiled as he said, ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Because I don’t think I played fair with you when you came to see me. Not that I care about you, you understand, but I do care about Allyson. And if I led you to think she wouldn’t take you back, then I’m sorry, because the truth is, I think she would. It’s going to take some working at, but despite what a stupid, insensitive, moronic bastard you are, I believe in her heart she still loves you.’
He was shaking his head. ‘I think there’s a much bigger chance she hates my guts,’ he said.
‘No. She doesn’t hate you. She’s just angry with you. If she hates anyone, it’s Tessa.’
‘She’s not the only one,’ he snarled. ‘What I wouldn’t like to do to that bitch for the way she’s screwed up my life.’
Shelley said nothing. It was typical of the Bobs of this world to absolve themselves of all responsibility, and blame the woman for their own spineless behaviour. ‘I think you should try talking to Allyson,’ she said after a pause.
He didn’t look convinced. ‘How can I? I’m still having to communicate through her lawyer.’
‘Because she’s protecting herself. You hurt her badly, surely you realize that, so you can’t blame her for putting up a defence.’
‘So what are you suggesting I do?’
‘Tell her you still love her, and ask her to forgive you. You might have to do it through the lawyer, but you know Allyson as well as I do. She’s got a very forgiving nature and despite outward appearances, I’m telling you she’s falling apart without you.’
‘What about Mark Reiner? I wouldn’t call seeing him falling apart without me.’
Shelley took a sip of her drink. ‘It’s all a front,’ she said, taking a chance he didn’t know Allyson was in Italy right now. The press hadn’t found out, so she couldn’t see how he would either. ‘She’s doing it to make you jealous.’
She watched him mull that over for a while and was about to speak again when he said, ‘Why don’t y
ou tell her you’ve seen me and talk to her for me?’
‘Because then I’d have to admit I betrayed her confidence.’
He reached for his glass but didn’t pick it up.
‘Bob, look at yourself,’ she said, keeping her voice low and full of feeling. ‘You’re a mess and you know it. You’ve got no money, no job, no real home to go to. So don’t you think your pride’s a bit out of place? And that’s all that’s stopping you, isn’t it? You couldn’t stand it if she rejected you. But she won’t. You’re her husband. You’ve been the biggest part of her life for so long that the truth is, she’s lost without you. Like you are without her. You belong together, you two, and you know it.’
His upper lip curled in a snarl. ‘What’s in this for you, Shelley?’ he demanded. ‘You never do anything without there being something in it for you.’
Her lovely eyes narrowed as she regarded him, seeming to weigh up how much she should tell him. In the end she said, ‘All right, to be blunt, I’ve got three programmes a week to get out, with an increased workload since the international theme started, and I can’t go on carrying Allyson. That’s one reason. The other is, she genuinely does love you, though you sure as hell don’t deserve it. And I think these past few months have shown you just how much you love her too.’
He looked despondently down at his Coke.
‘You just lost sight of it for a while,’ she said comfortingly. ‘It happens to most of us. So think about it. Work out what you’re going to say and then contact her lawyer. Perhaps then you can both get on with your lives.’
After finishing his drink he put his glass back on the table and stared at it.
‘Come on,’ she said in the end. ‘Let’s get out of here and find a good restaurant. I’ll bet you can’t remember the last time you had a decent meal.’
‘You’re right, I can’t. And I never thought you’d be providing me with the next one.’
She laughed. ‘You see, Bob, you really never know who your friends are. Do you?’
By the time she dropped him back at his crummy little pad, much later that evening, fed and with some money in his pocket, she knew she’d successfully convinced him that he really did stand a chance of winning Allyson back. In fact Shelley was certain he would, because, knowing Allyson as well as she did, there was no doubt in her mind that nineteen years of marriage was going to mean a whole lot more to Allyson than a few heady days in Italy, however romantic they might be. And Shelley couldn’t even be persuaded they’d be that romantic, for when it came right down to it, Allyson, who’d never slept with anyone but Bob, just didn’t have what it took to satisfy a man like Mark Reiner.
‘Stand over there. No, not there. There,’ Mark said, trying to get Allyson in the right spot to be photographed outside Capri’s beautiful baroque cathedral, which sat at the heart of the entrancing leafy square with all its colourful cafés and bistros.
‘Are you trying to get it so that campanile is sticking out of my head?’ she accused.
He laughed. ‘Just take a step to your left. OK, that’s it! Now, smile!’
‘Smile!’ she scoffed. ‘Can’t you be more original than that?’
Mark lowered the camera and glared at her.
‘OK, OK,’ she cried. ‘I’m smiling.’
He took the picture, then turning the camera towards the vast, glittering expanse of the Mediterranean with Sorrento in the background, he took another.
‘Mm,’ she murmured, inhaling deeply of the wonderful spring blossom that was wafting from the trees. When she opened her eyes it was to find him watching her with that lazy, gently mocking humour she was coming to know so well. In its way it seemed to suggest he wanted to kiss her, yet he never did. Not even last night, when he’d walked her to her door and stood so close she could almost feel herself moving into him. But he had merely said goodnight, then waited for her to go into her room, before going off to his.
‘Do you want to go see Anacapri?’ he said, as she watched the funicular, stuffed with tourists, rising up over the cliffs from the harbour to the town.
‘Sure,’ she answered, and stepped jauntily back into the rear of their fantastic red open-topped taxi, a perfect relic from the Fifties that made her feel like Grace Kelly meandering around the steep winding roads with Clark Gable – or better still with Mark Reiner, whose bare, tanned legs and taut muscles were creating all kinds of havoc in the realms of bodily desire. She truly couldn’t remember ever feeling so turned on by a man before, though she realized that it was probably his casual acceptance of nothing physical that was inciting her to such an unprecedented pitch of lust. And as they were chauffeured through the lazy, but dazzling beauty of the island’s glossy white villas, towering green palms and spectacular views of the glittering blue sea and enticing coves, she was allowing herself to indulge in a fantasy so unspeakably erotic that it actually made her blush when she looked at him. Worse still, as he handed her out of the car, was the uncanny feeling she had that he was reading her mind. If he was, then she could feel only dismay that he continued to hold back, except of course they were a long way from the hotel and her visions didn’t include anything as tawdry as a quick tussle in the bushes; and even if they did she still had to wonder if the power of what was happening to her was driven by a need to get her own back on Bob. She didn’t think it was, but in all honesty, while she was so clouded by these glorious feelings of lust that were being met by intolerable frustration, it was impossible to know anything for certain.
They roamed around the small town of Anacapri, inspecting the endless T-shirt and shoe shops and stopping for coffee at a café overlooking the rather ordinary piazza.
‘I don’t think this island is going to work for the programme,’ she said, stirring the chocolate-covered froth of a cappuccino into the milky coffee. ‘Most of it’s stunningly beautiful, but it’ll take too long to get here, and the budget won’t stretch.’
Nodding, he said, ‘I guessed you might decide that, but it was worth coming, just to make sure.’
‘Of course,’ she responded. Then smiling she added, ‘I’m having a wonderful time. I feel as though we’re on holiday, don’t you?’
His eyes were dancing, but he only looked past her as their driver approached the table and asked what they would like to do next.
Mark looked at Allyson, and to her horror she felt her cheeks start to burn. Yes, that was what she wanted to do next, but surely she hadn’t said it aloud.
‘Maybe we go take a look at where Tiberius fling his wife over the cliff,’ the driver suggested with a grin.
‘No,’ Mark said, still looking at Allyson, ‘I think you can take us back to the ferry now.’
It was already dark by the time the ferry sailed into the harbour at Amalfi. They were leaning against the deck rail, huddled warmly in the sweaters they’d thought to take with them and gazing out at the glittering lights that shimmered like fireflies at the foot of the hillside. She was so aware of him standing there, right beside her, and so tensed by the desire that seemed to jolt like electricity between them, that she almost gasped when he slipped an arm around her and pulled her in closer.
For a moment she was rigid. Then she turned to look up at him, her hair blowing in the wind, the taste of the sea on her lips. He lowered his eyes to hers and gazed deeply into them. With all her might she willed him to kiss her. But he only brushed the hair from her face and hugged her.
They drove back to the hotel in silence, taking the dark, winding roads at a speed that made her urgency feel like a world-class sprinter in a race against no-one. He seemed in no rush to get there, and she wondered what would happen when they did. Tonight was their last before they returned to London in the morning, and she just couldn’t bear the idea of leaving without knowing what it was to make love with him.
When they got back Giovanni gave them their faxes and messages then went off to bed. Allyson’s were all from Zac and Justine, and Mark’s were from heaven only knew who. As they walked upstair
s she resolved to tell him what she wanted. It just wasn’t something she could keep hidden any longer, and if she ended up making a fool of herself, then so be it.
When they reached her door he unlocked it for her, and she took a moment to summon her courage, before lifting her head to look into his eyes. ‘Mark,’ she said.
He raised a hand to her face, brushing his thumb over her lips. ‘Are you sure?’ he whispered.
‘I’ll go mad if you don’t,’ she answered.
As he continued to look at her, she drew his thumb into her mouth. The symbolic meaning of what she was doing inflamed them both, and suddenly his lips were on hers and he was pulling her to him with all the force she had longed for.
He took her into the room, closed the door and pulled her to him again. His mouth was tender and probing, commanding and harsh. He kissed her neck, and she unbuttoned her dress, letting it fall to the floor, then unhooked her bra. He slipped it down over her arms, then smoothed her surprisingly full breasts with his hands, teasing their tight, rosy nipples and watching the desire cloud her eyes. Then he undressed her completely and ran his hands all over her nudity in a way that almost sent her out of her mind with longing. She watched his face and felt the electric force of desire pulsing through her. And when he dropped to his knees and kissed her all the way down to her pubic hair, she felt the breathless might of exquisite, impelling sensations rushing her to a point where she cried out at the insistent mastery of his tongue.
The bed was just behind her and pushing her back he stood over her, looking at her, as he undressed himself. He lay down with her, pulling her to him and feeling her fingers grip the solid stem of his erection. The tenderness he felt curled through his heart, and was belied by the urgency of his need. He sensed the biting power of the need in her too and knew that whatever the truth of her feelings, in this moment she was his.
She lay over him and pushed her tongue between his lips. Her small body was light on his chest, her legs were open. He pushed himself into her, afraid he would be too big for her. Then his eyes closed as she sat up to take him fully. He watched her as she rode him, his eyes moving between her face and where their bodies were joined. He held her hands, entwining her fingers. Then feeling the mounting pressure inside her, he rolled her onto her back and entered her again.