by Susan Lewis
But she felt ready to see Shelley now. She’d go any time Shelley wanted, but having already been let down once it seemed Shelley wasn’t prepared to take the chance again. So Allyson had appealed to Shelley’s lawyers, who had come back with the curt and frightening response that Shelley would see Allyson in court, where justice would be done.
When she’d first received that message Allyson had been so angry and afraid that she’d found herself considering all kinds of panicked and irrational acts, like going to the newspapers and giving them a full and graphic account of what Shelley was really like, and what had really happened that night. But of course she didn’t know, so how could she do that? How could she do anything but live in daily dread of the trial, and lie awake night after night imagining all kinds of horrific scenarios that would restore Shelley’s freedom and reclaim hers. After all, she wouldn’t be the first to suffer a miscarriage of justice, nor would Shelley be the first killer to walk free.
Killer. Oh God, how had that word ever come into their lives this way? How could she ever really think of Shelley as a killer when she knew her so well, had loved her like a sister, and even now, despite all the fear and misgivings, she still cared for her deeply. Which was why she had called Pearl, Shelley’s mother, in the hope that Pearl could somehow intervene and persuade Shelley to let Allyson visit. Pearl’s response had chilled Allyson to the bone. ‘Shelley must pay for what she did,’ the woman had said. ‘I want no more to do with her.’
That Shelley’s own mother was so ready to believe in Shelley’s guilt had torn at Allyson’s heart in a way that nothing else in this whole horrible mess had. Shelley had to have someone to stand by her, it was only right, only fair, but who else was there, except Allyson? And how could she support her when Shelley was so determined to hang her innocence on the proof of Allyson’s guilt?
Suddenly aware of what Bob was saying, Allyson felt herself cringing, and wanted desperately to go inside. This ludicrous charade, she knew, had been staged as much for Mark’s benefit as for anyone else’s, to let him know that Bob and Allyson were still very much in love, despite everything, and were looking forward to picking up the pieces of their lives. She prayed to God that Mark wasn’t watching, and if he was she willed him to know it was a lie. She was only here because she couldn’t bear what the press would make of it if she was with him so soon after Tessa’s death.
Would he understand that? Would he know how desperately she wanted to be with him, to be able to draw from his strength and find some moments of peace in his understanding? But she couldn’t do that to him, not while there was still a chance she’d be blamed for Tessa’s murder, and when she didn’t even know for certain if he was as convinced of her innocence as everyone else seemed to be. Those moments at Tessa’s funeral, when their eyes had met and the rest of the world had ceased to exist for a while, were all she had to persuade her that he still cared. But now, after three weeks of such destructive anxiety and self-doubt, the power of that look had diluted and she no longer knew what to believe, especially when he’d made no attempt to call her.
At last the questions began to peter out, and Bob announced they were going inside. Shielding her eyes from the bright evening sun, Allyson looked out at the ragged group with their cameras and notebooks. How loyally they had all rallied behind her, hardly questioning her innocence, and seeming so eager to believe that she, the model of compassion and stability, was wholly intact. Even those who had attempted to put her in the frame of guilt had been unable to prove she was anywhere but at her parents’ house during those crucial three hours. So she was the woman who had been gravely wronged, and still was for the doubts and aspersions being cast upon her by Shelley’s lawyers and the few remaining sceptics in the press. Maybe one of those sceptics was the pretty young reporter who’d been making eyes at Bob throughout the proceedings. Or no, she wouldn’t be a sceptic, she’d only be another pathetic young female who’d fall willingly into Bob’s arms were he to give her a sign. Suddenly Allyson wanted to laugh. The girl’s timing couldn’t be more off, for Bob was still too shaken by how close he had come to ruin to put his future in jeopardy now. But give him a while, Allyson thought, and, crushing the hope that the while wouldn’t be long, she turned back inside.
Her mother was standing in the hall, waiting. Allyson hugged her warmly then led her through to the kitchen. This was all proving such a terrible strain on Peggy, who looked so much older now than she had just a few weeks ago. And there was still the trial to be got through.
‘Well, I think that went well, don’t you?’ Bob said, following them in. ‘So what do you say we open some champagne to celebrate?’
Allyson looked at her mother, who was about to plug in the kettle. Peggy had wanted this reunion, but only because it was what she was used to. She was too old to welcome change, and things were better kept in the family. It was another reason Allyson had allowed herself to go along with the reconciliation – after the way her mother had stood by her she felt she owed her something in return.
‘I’ll go and get it,’ Peggy said. ‘I expect it’s in the cellar, isn’t it?’
As she left the kitchen Bob walked over to Allyson and put his arms around her. ‘So what do you think of the second honeymoon?’ he said, starting to kiss her neck. ‘Bali OK for you?’
She wondered how he was going to pay for it when his work was still so thin on the ground. But of course they wouldn’t be going, so all she said was, ‘We can’t go anywhere until the trial’s over.’
‘I know,’ he murmured, still kissing her. ‘God, I’ve missed you.’
She knew exactly what that meant, for though he’d been with her virtually every day since the murder, they’d been staying with her parents, and until now she’d insisted on sleeping alone.
‘Bob, don’t,’ she said. ‘Mum’ll be back any second …’
He laughed. ‘We’re not doing anything she hasn’t seen us doing before,’ he reminded her. ‘In fact, it’d probably cheer her up no end to come back and find us in flagrante.’
‘I hope you’re not serious,’ she said, knowing he wasn’t.
He tried to kiss her again, but this time she managed to shrug him off and to give herself something to do, she plugged in the kettle.
She allowed several seconds to pass, staring down at nothing, and feeling his eyes as though they were caging her in. Then she made herself turn round and to her surprise her heart contracted when she saw how hurt and concerned he was, despite his efforts to conceal it.
‘I’m prepared to wait,’ he told her. ‘It doesn’t matter how long.’
She reached for his hand. ‘Bob, I know this is hard for you,’ she said softly, ‘and I know it isn’t what you want to hear, but I’ve already told you I don’t know if this can work. I’m not even sure if I love you any more.’
His eyes fell away and she thought how much younger he looked when stripped of his panache and charisma. He was left awkward and somehow raw, like a child who’d been abandoned in a place it didn’t know. Then a sudden, unbidden thought of Shelley darkened her mind, and the dread that came with it made her turn away from his confusion as though it was an intruder. All she could see now, in the haunting drama of her mind’s eye, was the horrifying image of Tessa’s final moments, and the feral madness of the woman who had beaten her to death.
Shelley’s manner was aloof, imperious, a calculated and convincing performance to disguise the fear that she was too proud to show. She walked into the visitors’ room where two suited men were waiting. She was in her daily uniform of jeans, trainers, and a grey striped T-shirt. Her hair was tied back, her olive-skinned face was beautiful and pale.
She surveyed her lawyers with cautious yet uncompromising eyes, knowing that they were going to try once again to persuade her to enter a plea of diminished responsibility, in the hope of reducing the murder charge to manslaughter.
The door behind her closed. She moved towards the one empty chair and sat down carefully. Seeing her
wince one of the lawyers moved forward to help her, but she shrugged him away. The pain of rape with hard objects, the humiliation of all she was being forced to suffer in this sealed-up hell of a women’s prison, was nothing to the terror of a sentence that would keep her here for years, maybe even the rest of her life. So no, there would be no deals with the prosecution. They had no real evidence with which to convict her, so she was going to take her chances with a jury and plead not guilty. If they found in her favour she’d be a free woman.
‘We’ve got a date for the trial,’ Roscoe, the barrister, told her. He was a thin, attractive man of great poise and predictable arrogance. ‘It’s been set for July 4th.’
Shelley’s insides turned over. Eight more weeks then please please God …
Her solicitor was a kindly man, with a smooth complexion and tender eyes. ‘Shelley,’ he said, ‘I’m going to ask you again to consider …’
‘The answer’s no,’ she said, cutting him off.
‘But we don’t have anything new! We’d hoped to by now …’
‘What are you looking for? An alibi?’ she snapped. ‘I don’t have one, Ed, and well you know it. But what I do have is a motive, the opportunity and the big fat mistake of not telling anyone about the hire car.’
‘So why didn’t you?’
‘I told you, I don’t know.’ Her eyes moved from Ed’s anxious face to the barrister’s, and, suddenly too exhausted to maintain the hostility, she sighed heavily and allowed some of her angst and vulnerability to show. ‘I suppose because I thought it would just complicate matters further,’ she said. ‘That if they knew I’d hired a car they’d think … Well, what they think now.’
‘The garage owner is going to testify that he found nothing wrong with your Lexus,’ the barrister reminded her.
‘The ABS light kept coming on. I just wanted him to check it out, make sure there was nothing wrong with the brakes. So, he’s going to testify that there wasn’t.’
‘I don’t think it’s going to sit well with a jury.’
Shelley’s eyes closed. Somewhere inside her chest was a wall of resentment and anger and unbridgeable fear. But it would be all right. She would get out of here. She just had to keep remembering that she didn’t do it, that she’d already left the building, that she’d been stuck in traffic, that the gift she’d given Allyson was the Lalique clock …
‘Have you found the clock?’ she asked, looking at the barrister.
His face showed his discomfort as he shook his head.
They didn’t believe her. They thought she was lying about the clock …
‘We’ve spoken to the police,’ Ed said. ‘They’ve searched everywhere, but so far no clock.’
‘Did they ask Allyson? I take it they asked Allyson.’
Ed nodded. ‘Yes, they asked Allyson. She still says the gift you gave her that night was the fan dancer.’
Shelley covered her face with her hands. Oh God, no, no, no. Everything was going to work out all right for Allyson, because everything always worked out all right for Allyson. But no! Not this time. This time it was going to work out for Shelley …
The restaurant was crowded and noisy; pots of steaming pasta and pans of simmering sauces cluttered up the open-plan kitchens, along with deliciously pungent herbs and chefs with high hats.
Bob and Allyson and a group of their friends were at a large round corner table that was laden with wine and water, fresh garlic bread and succulent bruschetta. Though she wasn’t facing into the room Allyson could feel a thousand eyes boring into her back, all watching and wondering, dying to ask and longing to know. Was she really as innocent as everyone was saying? Or was she the one who had smashed that poor girl’s head in? Such grim and appalled fascination followed her everywhere now.
Todd was talking, holding forth on the wayward shenanigans of the market that day. Janet, his wife, plunged in with some irony while helping herself to more bread. Christian was a novelist whose book was teetering on the edge of success; his wife, Helena, was a fashion designer who modelled her own line. They’d known each other for more years than any of them cared to count, this kind of get-together was regular, and so excruciatingly normal it made Allyson want to scream.
But she didn’t. She merely joined in with the wit and repartee, drinking more wine than she should and eating no food at all, until Bob cut her a corner of bruschetta and fed her himself. She even licked his fingers afterwards, allowing it to be the sexual come-on he’d hope for, and evoking the kind of laughter they all enjoyed. It was as though his affair with Tessa, their break-up, her affair with Mark and Tessa’s murder had never happened. Which was OK. It was good to pretend it hadn’t, because in less than two weeks her entire life would be consumed by the trial, so these evenings with friends were a welcome and needed respite from the angst. They were also a convenient excuse not to be alone with Bob.
‘Hey, Ally, did you call Clive Dansing today?’ Janet asked her. ‘Didn’t you say you were going to?’
‘Who?’ Christian wanted to know.
‘Clive Dansing, he’s my new boss,’ Allyson answered, feeling her insides close up. ‘He took over from Stella.’
‘You didn’t tell me you were going to call him,’ Bob accused.
‘It was just a thought,’ she answered, forcing a smile. ‘I didn’t do it. But I’ll have to sooner or later, if I intend to go back to work.’
‘But you won’t be going back yet,’ he reminded her.
‘No,’ and in an effort to keep her patience she turned to Todd and said, ‘I was thinking of cashing in a few investments. Can I call you tomorrow?’
‘Sure,’ he answered. ‘You know the number.’
The pasta arrived, and the subject of Allyson’s return to work was soon forgotten. Except by Bob, but he didn’t bring it up again until the ludicrous charade of normality was over and they were back in their own home, getting ready for bed.
‘There’s no programme any more,’ he reminded her bluntly, ‘so what do you think you’re going back to?’
‘I don’t know,’ she answered. ‘But I’m still under contract and maybe …’
When she didn’t finish he stopped hanging up his clothes and looked at her with accusing eyes. ‘Maybe what?’ he said sharply. ‘You’ll see Mark Reiner?’
She was in the bathroom with the door open, but she was cleaning her teeth so she had only to lean over the basin to hide the sudden rush of nerves that had sprung into life. Yes, of course it was because she might see Mark, was he such a fool that he had to ask? But she smothered the anger, spat out the toothpaste and drying her mouth she said, ‘I keep trying to tell you how afraid I am of this trial, how terrified I am that there won’t be a life for me after, but you don’t listen, do you? You don’t understand what this is like for me, so you don’t understand why I need to speak to Clive Dansing, to find out what his plans might be for the rest of my contract, if he even has any. It’s my way of trying to see beyond the next few weeks, of projecting my hopes to a place that has nothing to do with the trial. You can’t even imagine what a huge thing it is for me to dare to be hopeful, because all you can think about is your jealousy of Mark, and what any of this might do to you.’
He was coming towards hers. ‘Oh God, Ally,’ he groaned, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You’re right, I am being selfish about this, but only because I’m so afraid of losing you. It haunts me all the time, what my life was like when we weren’t together, how it would be if I had to live without you again …’
‘But you only think about me leaving you for Mark!’ she shouted. ‘You don’t think about me going to prison, which is the most likely reason I’d leave you right now. But you don’t care about that, do you? Me being locked away for something I didn’t do is more acceptable than me leaving you for another man …’
‘No! No, you’ve got it wrong,’ he cried. ‘I know I’m not saying the right things, but you’ve got to know how much you mean to me, and I do understand what you’re going through, I
swear I do. But Shelley’s going to be found guilty, you know that, so …’
‘No! I don’t know that and nor do you. But let’s drop this now, shall we, because I just can’t keep going through it.’
Later, as they were lying side by side in the darkness, he said, ‘I love you.’
She braced herself and prayed with all her might that this wouldn’t turn out to be the lead up to sex she feared it was, because right now she couldn’t even bear the thought of him touching her. But it seemed God wasn’t listening to her prayers that night, because it did turn out that way, and not, she thought, because Bob was particularly in the mood, but because it enabled him to pretend that they really were pulling through all this.
But they weren’t, in fact they were so far from pulling through it that she could only wonder what had happened to the resolution she’d once made that she would be there for him no matter what – and the belief that he would be there for her too. OK, he was here, but she knew it wasn’t really for her, it was for him. Their life together suited him, cushioned him from most of the blows and rescued him from the destructive side of his nature. With her he had attained a freedom he’d never have attained alone, a comfort that had much less to do with material goods than with the belief she had given him in himself. She realized now that he wasn’t capable of giving that back. He was at the very centre of his world, with no room for anyone else, and she was as much to blame for that as anyone, for she had helped to put him there. But she couldn’t consider him and his feelings now, it was time to put herself first, and no matter how unacceptable he found that she was going to begin tomorrow.
‘Hello. Mark Reiner’s office.’
Allyson’s heart was thudding so hard that she almost put the phone down. ‘Hello Corinne,’ she heard herself say. ‘It’s Allyson Jaymes. Is Mark there?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ Corinne answered. ‘He’s in Los Angeles until the end of next week.’