by Susan Lewis
At eight o’clock the guests started filling the bar, many of them looking every bit the royalty or movie stars they were. The women wore gowns of silk, taffeta, satin and lace, with sequins that glittered, and jewels that sparked off the exquisite crystal and gold chandeliers above. The pop of champagne corks mingled with muted voices and occasional laughter. The band started to play, drowning the gentle rush of the fountains, and the director’s assistants began guiding everyone into place.
Allyson stood in the lobby looking down at the scene. Her fine blonde hair was swept up into a cluster of diamonds with loose, curling tendrils tumbling around her neck, and yet more diamonds were circling her throat and falling from her ears. Her eyes glowed in their dark rims of kohl and her lips were moistened by a delicate frosted pink gloss.
She started to move down the stairs and felt as sensuous as she looked, in her figure-hugging black dress that fishtailed around the ankles and revealed her delicately tanned skin through the shimmering transparent panels that snaked around her body in a way that forbade the wearing of anything beneath. She was looking for Mark, and when her eyes finally found him it was as though he sensed she was there, for he looked up from the people he was with and her heart swelled with the emotion that filled his eyes.
He met her at the foot of the stairs and though she was aware of the flashlights going off around them, neither of them seemed to care, as he took her hand and drew her into his arms to kiss her. Then they both started to laugh as Alan chose that moment to yell, ‘OK peasants! Opening positions!’
‘Right now,’ Mark murmured, ‘I wish everyone would vanish so that I could just carry on looking at you.’
‘Doesn’t she look stunning?’ Shelley said, joining them.
Allyson turned to her, smiling. ‘So do you,’ she said, glancing at Shelley’s white silk trouser suit whose jacket was slashed open almost to the waist. Very elegant, very sexy and totally Shelley.
‘And you look so dashing,’ Shelley said to Mark, ‘that I absolutely have to insist on the first dance once the recording is over and the party proper gets under way.’
‘Consider it yours,’ he told her. Excusing himself, he went off in answer to a signal from Giovanni, who was already heading back to the kitchens.
‘Where’s Tessa?’ Allyson asked, peering into the darkness of what was now the set. Shelley could outmanoeuvre her all she wanted, with first dances and smooth compliments, she was still going to end up on her own tonight – or if she didn’t it wouldn’t be Mark Reiner she was with.
‘Through there,’ Shelley said, pointing. ‘At the end of the bar.’
Allyson found her, and her eyebrows rose in approval of the way Tessa looked, for though there were no sparkling gems in her hair, as Allyson had suggested, the way it was wet-combed back from her face was exactly the right look for the strapless red sequined dress that showed off her fleshy shoulders to perfection, and curved over her round, girlish hips in a way only she could carry off. But no matter how good she looked, or how objective Allyson found she could be at moments like this, she was never forgetful of just how much she hated this girl.
‘I’ll have a quick word with her before we start,’ Allyson said. ‘Where are you going to watch from?’
Shelley looked over at the small inner courtyard, where the production gallery was set up. ‘In there, I think,’ she answered.
‘I’ll join you there,’ and taking the glass of champagne she was being offered, Allyson squeezed her way through the guests to where Tessa was being miked up ready to record.
‘Are you OK?’ Allyson asked her.
Tessa nodded. ‘I’ve got the order glued in my head now, so please don’t tell me you’re about to change it.’
Allyson smiled. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Now remember, just let it flow. Be yourself, and if you screw up someone’s title, or even their name, don’t worry, they’ve come to expect it.’
Tessa giggled.
‘If you can get anyone to dance, or sing a duet with you,’ Allyson went on, ‘go for it, we’ve got you covered on three cameras, and we can sort out copyright after.’
‘Is it all right if I ask them who they’re sleeping with?’ Tessa asked.
‘No, it’s not all right,’ Allyson answered. ‘Just be guided by the questions we went through earlier.’
‘You look fab, by the way,’ Tessa told her. ‘I’ll bet Mark Reiner thinks so too.’
Allyson didn’t reply.
‘He said he liked my dress,’ Tessa said. ‘I expect he was just being polite though, because I don’t look anywhere near as glam as you.’
‘Just concentrate on the show,’ Allyson advised.
‘OK, everyone, stand by. We’re on the clock!’ Alan’s assistant shouted.
Allyson started to make her way back to join Shelley, but she was stalled by a couple of journalists wanting some last-minute info and then by Giovanni who wanted to tell her how lovely she looked. So in the end she watched the recording from the lobby, where she was able to look down on the scene and see everything that was happening, from the moment Tessa began moving along the bar while delivering her opening link to camera, to her first overplayed shock at finding a couple of famous film stars relaxing on the sofas she’d reserved for herself, to the introduction of the garish Happy Hour cocktails, which the princess had already had some practice in serving. It was all going so smoothly, and Tessa seemed to weave such an incredible magic with her cheeky good humour and show of total fascination with anything anyone had to say, that Allyson could sense already what a triumph the programme was going to be, not only for her, but for Mark and the hotel too. Of course, she had no way of knowing then that it was a show no-one would ever get to see.
Not even when the cameras were discreetly taken away and the cables were removed to make room for dancing, were there any signs that anything was wrong with the evening. Food was brought, more champagne flowed and soon the dancing began. Allyson watched Shelley in Mark’s arms, then turned away, refusing to be jealous. The next time she saw Mark he was smooching with Tessa, who seemed drunk and vaguely out of control, but was making him laugh, so Allyson didn’t bother to step in. Later, she danced with him herself, but was soon whisked away by an insistent politician who’d come with his famous wife. Then towards midnight she couldn’t find him, but the sight of Shelley, sitting with a German count and his gay lover, quelled the sudden burn of dread in her chest. Shelley spotted her looking and waved, but Allyson didn’t go over. She was suddenly so tired she wanted only to sleep. A few more minutes, she thought, and she’d try sliding away, but she should find Mark first.
‘If you’re looking for who I think you’re looking for,’ Candy said in her ear, ‘he carried your pretty little presenter up to bed. She passed out, I’m afraid …’
Allyson turned to look at her.
‘Too much champagne,’ Candy expanded, her eyes twinkling with humour. ‘Ah, here he is.’
Allyson turned round to see Mark coming towards them. ‘How is she?’ she asked when he reached them.
‘She’ll survive. Are you OK? You look pretty tired.’
She smiled. ‘You offering to carry me up too?’ she teased.
Mark looked at Candy, who took the hint and discreetly backed away.
‘You don’t have to stay to the end,’ he said to Allyson.
‘Do you think it would be terrible if I didn’t?’ she said, stifling a yawn.
‘No. You’ve had a long day and now the adrenalin’s run out …’
‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘Will you come and say goodnight before you go to bed?’
‘Of course. But I won’t wake you if you’re sleeping.’
‘You’ll just bring me breakfast at the crack of dawn?’
Still smiling after they gave each other a friendly kiss on the cheek, he watched her as she stopped to say goodnight to those who were nearest, thanking everyone for coming and wishing a good journey home to those who were leaving early tomorrow. He was
still watching her when she reached the top of the stairs and turned back to blow him a kiss, then with a droll look in his eyes he went to rejoin the party.
As the clock ticked towards two in the morning the last of the revellers began finding their way back to their rooms, and the band, too tired to go on, retired in favour of a Frank Sinatra CD on the hotel system. Shelley strolled amongst the remaining few, still sipping champagne, still smiling, talking, laughing, while all the time she was crying inside. She envied Allyson so deeply, and hated her with a passion for inviting her here, when Allyson should have known how painful it would be. Everything was so beautiful, so suggestive of all her dreams, and in keeping with all she’d imagined, it was breaking her heart.
She thought back to the coffee she and Mark had shared earlier in the day, and to the many times they’d danced throughout the evening. It had felt so right being with him, looking at him, touching him, that she just couldn’t accept that they weren’t destined for each other. And the way he’d responded to her that morning, and held her in his arms this evening …
‘You look lovely,’ he’d told her.
She’d wondered if he was just being polite. But no, she did look lovely, and the expression in his eyes had suggested that he was remembering just how lovely.
‘Thank you,’ she’d said, and it was a while before either of them looked away.
‘I’m glad you came,’ he’d told her during their last dance.
‘Are you?’ she said.
He didn’t answer, but when the music slowed he’d pulled her closer and she’d been so intensely aware of his body it had almost been painful. It simply wasn’t possible for him not to be aware of her too, so when the dance ended and they were in shadow she’d lifted his hand and placed it inside her jacket, over her breast. His eyes were burning into hers as he said, ‘I’ve never denied how sexy you are.’
Then it was over and he was moving away to dance with someone else.
Shelley looked around for him now, but apart from the staff she seemed to be the only one left. A tall, lonely figure amongst the debris of the night.
She walked slowly up the stairs to her room, then closing the door behind her she moved through the darkness to the window. She stood very still, looking out on the flickering lights of the hillside and the moon’s reflection on the sea below. She heard laughter coming from a nearby room, and the clatter of the staff as they worked below. She wasn’t the only one who was awake, yet she felt so alone it was as though the world had somehow emptied.
Allyson was in the room next to hers. Shelley had seen her go to bed earlier, so she was probably asleep by now. She wondered if Mark was too.
She moved, hardly knowing it, across the room and out of the door. Night lights burned in the hallways as she walked quietly past them. This feeling she had couldn’t only be hers. He must feel it too.
She turned the corner, knowing that his room was at the end of the hall. Maybe he was expecting her, certain she would come, the way she was meant to, for that was how it felt, that this was meant to happen.
As she approached his door she began to feel an untimely dread of rejection. Could she bear it if he sent her away again? She was so close now. Just a few more steps. Did she really dare to do this?
Then she was suddenly disoriented by the sound of his voice. It was close, much closer than the distance to his room would allow. She looked to one side, and saw that the door she was passing was open. There were voices, speaking so softly she couldn’t make out what they were saying. But one of them was Mark’s, she knew that. And the other sounded curiously like a child. This was Tessa’s room. For some reason, Mark was in Tessa’s room.
Shelley listened, her heart banging against her ribs. She should leave, turn away, but something was compelling her to stay. She stepped closer to the door. It was open enough for her to see the heavy furniture against one wall, a rosewood desk, a baroque chair, a mirror … Her eyes suddenly dilated. Reflected in the mirror she could see Tessa, on her knees, her face in profile as she gazed up at Mark. He was looking down at her, but it was too dark to see his expression. Then Tessa spoke again, in a meek and tearful voice.
‘Please,’ she said. ‘Please don’t be angry with me.’
Mark stooped to draw her to her feet.
Shelley remained rooted to the spot, too appalled even to breathe. She heard his next words but hardly registered them as Tessa moved into his arms. Still Shelley listened and watched, then finally, she turned and walked silently back to her room.
The next morning Shelley and Allyson had breakfast together on the terrace. Allyson’s face was white, her eyes were blinded by shock. For some reason, all she seemed to be registering now Shelley had stopped talking, was the fact that the sun wasn’t shining today, and the sky, so clear and blue the day before, was now ominously grey and thunderous, casting a pall over the hillsides, in much the same way as Shelley’s words had cast a pall over her heart.
‘I’m sorry,’ Shelley said. ‘If I hadn’t been coming back from Edgar and Janie’s room at that time I wouldn’t have seen it. But I did and …’
Allyson glanced at her, then swallowed and picked up her coffee. She didn’t drink, she simply stared down at the cup. She didn’t want to believe it, was resisting it hard, but images and memories kept flashing through her mind: Tessa’s voice on his machine; Tessa walking into the hotel with him the night he’d arrived; Tessa dancing with him and making him laugh; Tessa being carried up to bed by him … And now this …
‘You say she called him Daddy?’ she said, feeling confused and sick and horribly distanced from reality.
‘That’s what it sounded like,’ Shelley said. She too was pale, having hardly slept all night.
‘You don’t think …?’ Allyson couldn’t finish the question.
‘That it was a sex game?’ Shelley said. ‘I don’t know. It could have been.’
Allyson’s eyes closed. ‘God, it’s horrible. It’s almost like …’ But she didn’t want to speak the words aloud. Their meaning was too ugly, too depraved. ‘Do you think he was making her do it?’
‘I didn’t see any force.’
Allyson couldn’t stop herself picturing the scene, nor could she stop the revulsion. ‘What’s it about?’ she said. ‘Why’s she doing this? First Bob, then the programme, then my flat, now Mark. What is it with the girl?’
Shelley glanced up and gave a brief shake of her head to someone who was about to join them.
‘How the hell do I handle this?’ Allyson said.
‘Maybe you should talk to him,’ Shelley suggested. ‘Ask him what it was about?’
‘He left early this morning, for Rome. He’s on a midday flight to New York.’ He’d come to kiss her goodbye, but it had been so early and she was still so tired she’d barely known he was there. She wondered now why he hadn’t told her before that he’d be leaving so early. Or maybe he had and she’d been so busy she hadn’t heard him. She tried to think what it could mean, that he’d left so soon after the party. Were there any sinister or unworthy motives she could attach to it? If there were, she could find none. ‘I can’t believe he’d do this,’ she said finally. ‘It just doesn’t seem like him.’
She was looking at Shelley and Shelley could see the suspicion starting to turn her way. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘And maybe it wasn’t what it seemed …’
Allyson continued to look at her.
‘I know you don’t want to believe me,’ Shelley said, ‘but I swear to you, he was there, in her room, and something was going on …’
‘Oh God,’ Allyson groaned, pressing her hands to her head. ‘Why did I ever let that girl into my life? Or maybe more to the point, how the hell do I get her out?’
Chapter 16
TWO DAYS HAD gone by since they’d returned to London, and still Allyson didn’t seem able to shake herself out of this trance-like state. But life was easier to deal with that way, just going through the motions, hardly thinking, or responding, only e
diting or dubbing, making plans for the next programme then getting into her car and going home. Sometimes, during odd moments in the day, she felt an anger that was so intense it would burn her up like a fire, but she quickly detached herself from it, because she was afraid of what she might do if she didn’t.
Mark was still in New York. He’d rung several times, but if she was in the office she cut him short by saying she’d call back, and if she was at home she listened to his voice on the machine without picking up. She didn’t want to talk to him, because she didn’t even want to form the thoughts that were needed to ask if anything Shelley had said was true. She just wanted to put it out of her mind, as though none of it, not him, not Tessa, not the break-up of her marriage, nothing, had ever happened. Besides, even when she was ready to talk, she wouldn’t do it on the phone. She’d make herself face him, which shouldn’t be hard because she hadn’t known him long, so it couldn’t be as devastating as when Bob had betrayed her. But it felt that way, and the hatred she’d known for Tessa since Bob had left was magnified now to a degree that consumed her. She couldn’t look at the girl without thinking monstrous and violent thoughts, couldn’t hear her voice without wishing her dead. Yet she still had to work with her, still had to see her every day and know there was nothing she could do to get rid of her. Her popularity was exploding.
Yet Tessa too seemed different, strangely cowed, as though she was afraid of something only she could see. But Allyson wasn’t interested to know anything about her, except to understand whatever insanity it was that was making her want everything that was Allyson’s.
It was only just after nine in the morning, but Allyson had already been at her desk for over two hours. There were always a thousand things to do, so she was never in any danger of having to face the torture of empty time. Even so, she knew that by ignoring the wound she was leaving it open to fear and paranoia, as well as to hatred and fury. But maybe that was what she wanted, to nurture it and let it grow so out of proportion that the whole savage energy of it could destroy the horror of being betrayed again …