Chapter 13

WHEN SANDY FINALLY opened her eyes from a strange and unrecognizable dreamscape, she wondered for a moment where she was. Then, remembering, her heart quietly erupted with joy and turning to the empty space beside her she ran a hand over the crumpled sheet where he had lain. It was still warm, and pushing her face into his pillow she inhaled deeply and felt the scent of him move through her like the lingering memory of a caress. It had happened at last! She had spent the night with Michael and as she recalled the passion with which he had made love to her, the way he’d lost control almost from the beginning, then had held her so close at the end, she knew in her heart that there were going to be many, many more nights like it to come.

For a while she lay where she was, amused by how small she felt in the enormous bed. She listened to the silence of the flat and wondered where he was. She guessed he hadn’t wanted to wake her, so had slipped away quietly, but despite the ache in her limbs and soreness in her body she was ready to make love again and felt sure he would be too.

Sitting up, she hugged her knees to her chest and gazed around the room. The tall, arched windows that occupied two entire walls were like great columns of sunlight beaming long, silvery rays across the carpet and black lacquer furniture. From where she was sitting, dazzled though she was, she could make out the top of the balcony railings outside and the dense, blue sky with not a single cloud in sight. She knew that the door in the far corner opened out to the hall, so guessed that the other, recessed between the twin, hand-painted closets, would probably lead to the bathroom. Imagining and hoping that was where she would find him, she got up from the bed to go and look.

She was right, it was a bathroom and it almost took her breath away, for she had never, not even in books or magazines, seen one like it. Had she been familiar with Robsjohn-Gibbings she’d have known it was an adaptation of his American-deco style, but she had never heard of the designer, nor did she need to to appreciate the sheer magnificence of the high, oval room with its central dais into which an enormous black marble bath was sunk. The cream marble floor and walls with classical black pilasters, fan lights and mirrored shelving were all of the same thirties’ design, and the chrome and brass fixtures gleamed in a jigsaw of colourful sunlight streaming through the stained-glass window overhead.

There was no sign of Michael and catching sight of herself in a mirror she could only feel glad, for her eyes were smudged with mascara and the hair that wasn’t stuck to her head was sticking out at angles. Quickly grabbing a robe from the back of the door, she slipped it on and set about repairing the damage.

To her relief, as she searched for a comb and toothbrush, she found no signs of another woman, though it might have helped if there had been something to clean off her make-up. Settling for soap and water, she sponged her face, then dried her eyes with tissues. Most of the mascara came off and though she didn’t look anywhere near as glamorous as she’d have liked, it was certainly an improvement on a few minutes ago. Her skin was fresh and shining, and though her eyes were slightly bloodshot from the soap, they looked young and sparkly and full of joy.

A few minutes later, as she sponge-washed the rest of her body, she heard him moving about in the bedroom and wasn’t sure whether she should go to him wearing the robe, which was now on the floor, or as she was, in nothing at all. Standing back to get a good look at herself in a long, panelled mirror, she noticed a brass handle on the frame and turning it, found that it led into a spacious marble shower with five brass shower heads and a wall-to-wall bench. Chuckling to herself at the amazing splendour of the place and feeling a wonderful burst of euphoria at the idea that it was all going to become so familiar, she closed the door quietly and, deciding to put the robe back on, she walked over to the other door and let herself into the bedroom.

He had disappeared again, but she smiled as she saw a cup of coffee steaming beside the bed, obviously put there for her. Then, spotting one of the closet doors half open, she realized how much sexier she would look in one of his shirts rather than his robe, which all but drowned her.

As she sauntered into the sitting room she found the french windows open, allowing a crisp early morning breeze to flow in from outside, and feeling it touch her skin she was glad she had fastened only one button of the shirt.

He was standing at the dividing counter between the living-room and kitchen, dressed in a robe like the one she had just discarded. He was looking down at the paper and appeared not to have heard her come in. His hair was still tousled from sleep and he was in need of a shave, but to her he had never looked more attractive. Smiling to herself, she walked towards him, waiting for him to look up. She had almost reached him by the time he did and seeing the way his eyes moved instantly to the open front of the shirt her pulses began to quicken.

‘Good-morning,’ she whispered shyly.

His eyes rose to hers and he reached for his coffee. ‘Good morning,’ he answered, his smile seeming as uncertain as hers. ‘Do you …? Would you … like some breakfast?’ He made an awkward gesture towards the kitchen behind him.

‘I’m not hungry,’ she said, realizing that he was as nervous as she was. She found it helped her to know that and, perching on one of the bar stools as he returned to the paper, she said, ‘I hope you don’t mind, I used your toothbrush.’

He shook his head and turned over a page. ‘No, that’s OK,’ he said. ‘Help yourself to anything. Did you find the shower?’

She nodded, even though he wasn’t looking. She imagined that from where he was standing he could see along her thighs to her pubic hair and wondered if he had noticed yet. Maybe she should take the shirt off altogether, or tell him she was wet – he had seemed to like that the night before. For some reason, though, it didn’t seem quite right this morning, so taking another sip of coffee she asked if there was anything interesting in the news.

‘Not really,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Another attack on the government over education and a train derailment somewhere in Cornwall.’

‘Oh,’ she said.

He continued to read and though she tried hard not to, in the end there was no way she could deny the awkwardness he seemed to be feeling. She felt her heart turning cold and a quick panic fired her fear. Please God, he wasn’t regretting what had happened last night. He had seemed to want it so much at the time and the way he had looked at her when he kissed her and held her while he slept …

‘Are you sure you don’t want any breakfast?’ he said, looking up at her and raising his eyebrows in a self- mocking sort of way.

She smiled and felt herself turn weak with relief at the attempted humour. She realized then that he probably wasn’t a morning person, but out of consideration for her was trying to be. ‘I’m sure,’ she said and sliding off the stool, she walked round the counter to join him. ‘I wouldn’t mind a kiss,’ she said, tilting her face up to his.

His eyes were trained somewhere over her head as he touched his lips to hers, then, smiling and patting her bottom he said, ‘I expect you’ll want to go home to change before going into the office.’

She laughed and grimaced, knowing that was exactly what she’d have to do, for she had nothing here and though she could do without underwear for the day, she certainly couldn’t go without make-up. The real pity of it, though, was that she wasn’t going to get to walk in with him, but there was time enough for that, after she’d moved a few things over from her flat to take care of occasions just like this.

‘It’s only seven o’clock,’ she said, turning his wrist to look at his watch. ‘Do you have a breakfast meeting?’

‘Uh, yes. Yes,’ he said as she started to untie the belt of his robe. ‘In fact, I’d better get in the shower,’ he said, clasping a hand over the knot to stop her.

Laughing and turning his reluctance into a game, she pushed his hand aside and started tugging at the belt.

‘Sandy, listen,’ he said, grabbing her wrists in one hand while holding his robe together with the other.

‘Yes Michael?’ She grinned, letting her head drop back as she looked up at him. ‘I’m listening.’

He looked down at her, then, taking a breath he said, ‘Look, I don’t want to … I mean, last night was last night and … it was great and you’re great … Oh Christ,’ he groaned, as she broke one of her hands free and found his erection.

‘Do you want to feel where I’m wet,’ she murmured, taking his hand and putting it between her legs.

‘Sandy, look, I don’t think we should be doing this,’ he said.

She laughed as despite his words he made no attempt to remove his hand from her, nor hers from him. ‘Why?’ she said, opening his robe wide and looking down at the solid stem of his penis as she rubbed her hand up and down it. ‘Because we’re going in to the office later? Don’t worry, I won’t let on to anyone what we were doing after supper and before breakfast.’

‘It’s not that,’ he said, his voice faltering as she squeezed him hard. ‘I just don’t want you to think …’ His eyes closed as she touched the tip of his penis to her clitoris. ‘I don’t want you to think …’

‘That you’re just using me for sex?’ she finished, looking up into his face, her eyes twinkling with laughter.

He looked down at her and as her words registered through the distraction of what she was doing he wondered if she was telling him it was OK, that he could use her for sex, if that was what he wanted.

His eyes remained on hers and as she smiled he had the same terrible urge to take her as he’d felt last night. It was less violent this morning, less spiked with anger, but still too pressing to deny. She looked up at him as she carried on stroking herself with his penis and, forcing a tenderness to his eyes, he said, ‘Is this good for you too?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered.

His eyes dropped to where their bodies were touching and despising himself for his inability to stop, he unfastened the button on her shirt and pushed it down over her shoulders. Then, shrugging off his robe, he lifted her onto the kitchen table and laid her down on her back.

As he entered her she gasped and reached for his hands. His fingers closed around hers, squeezing them tight as he pressed them to her hips and held her as he began to pump in and out of her. She watched his face and gave a bashful smile when at last his eyes came to hers. His expression suddenly darkened and his strokes became longer and more rapid. He threw out her hands and dragged her buttocks from the table, holding her up so he could penetrate her deeper and harder. Then quite suddenly it was over and as he ejaculated into her and swore violently under his breath she was exultant to think that she had turned him on so much that he had been unable to stop himself coming so fast.

When finally he withdrew he helped her from the table and held her loosely round the waist as she circled her arms around his neck. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

She looked surprised. ‘Sorry? What for?’ She laughed.

He seemed embarrassed, then, stooping to pick up the shirt he handed it to her. ‘It wasn’t any good for you,’ he said.

She laughed again. ‘It was fantastic,’ she told him.

He still looked doubtful, so she went up on tiptoe to kiss him and assured him that after last night, it was the best she had ever known. And it was true, it was, for even though she hadn’t come herself, all that mattered was that he cared. And if she needed any further proof of that she got it when he joined her in the shower and washed himself in front of her as though they had been this comfortable together for years. He even, as she told Nesta when she returned to their flat later, offered to let her have the day off work if she wanted to.

‘How very generous of him,’ Nesta commented, her large, hazel eyes still slightly clouded with sleep and looking decidedly uncertain about all this. ‘Did he kiss you when you left?’ she asked.

Sandy looked surprised at the question. ‘Of course he did.’ She laughed, digging a spoon into a giant bowl of cornflakes. ‘What did you think, he shook my hand?’ She ate the cereal, and winked at Nesta. ‘It was only a quick kiss, though,’ she said, when she’d swallowed, ‘because the phone rang and I didn’t hang around because the cab was waiting and I think he’d probably seen enough of me without make-up at this stage of our relationship.’ She laughed and downed another spoonful of cornflakes.

Nesta breathed in deeply and glanced over to the radio, where a traffic report was giving way to the latest sound from Arrowsmith. She was still in her nightie, having been turfed out of bed by a jubilant Sandy some twenty minutes ago to hear all about the earth-shattering start to this long-awaited affair.

The tea in the mug she was holding was turning cold, so getting up from the table she poured what was left down the sink and replugged the kettle. ‘So when are you seeing him again?’ she asked, leaning against the draining board and watching Sandy as she lifted the breakfast bowl and drank the remains of her cereal.

As she finished Sandy laughed and, using her fingers to wipe away a milky moustache, she said, ‘In about an hour.’

Nesta frowned, then remembered that of course she would see him at the office. ‘I meant, do you have another date?’ she said.

Sandy shrugged. ‘I expect I’ll go over there tonight,’ she answered, carrying her bowl to the dishwasher. ‘Unless he’s got some party or other to go to.’ She stopped for a moment as she thought about that, then said, ‘If he does, I wonder if he’ll invite me.’

‘Yes, I wonder,’ Nesta responded dubiously.

Sandy glanced at her, then, depositing her bowl in the machine she took a loaf of bread from the wooden container and cut herself a slice. ‘He might not want to go public yet,’ she explained. ‘Anyway, I thought you might have been a bit more pleased for me than this.’

Nesta shrugged. ‘I am,’ she said. ‘It’s just a bit early in the morning, that’s all. So tell me again, how did you come to go back to his place?’

‘He invited me,’ Sandy answered, slotting two pieces of bread into the toaster. ‘He came into the office around ten last night, while I was still working, and I suppose he just thought there was no point holding back any more. Actually, he probably made the decision before that, because he must have known I was there, otherwise why come back?’

Nesta shook her head, at a loss for another explanation. ‘Where had he been until ten?’ she asked. ‘Did he say?’

‘He was having dinner with that LA agent I told you about, the one who was at the restaurant the other night. You should have seen her. Honestly, talk about fancying herself. I mean, she’s not bad looking, but the way she spoke to Michael it was guaranteed to get his back up and it did, anyone could see that. I think I told you about it, didn’t I?’

Nesta nodded.

‘Yes, well, I expect she managed it again last night, seeing how early he left the restaurant.’ She was quiet for a moment and turning to look at Nesta she started to grin and her young, shining eyes filled with elation as Michael’s dinner date of the night before was forgotten and the memory of all that had happened after came flooding back. ‘Did I tell you about the way he said he didn’t want me just for sex?’ she said, not entirely sure those were his exact words, even though it was what he had meant.

Nesta nodded.

Sandy giggled. ‘I’m telling you, he’s that good I almost wouldn’t mind if he did,’ she said. Then, laughing, she went on: ‘You should have seen him before he said it. I mean, I was starting to get worried, because it was like he didn’t want to do it again or something. But then, when he said that, I realized he was just afraid I might think he was using me. God, he’s so romantic.’

‘Did he kiss you much?’ Nesta asked, turning to pour boiling water on a fresh tea-bag.

Sandy’s head went to one side as she thought about that. ‘Yeah, quite a bit,’ she said. ‘He’s got a fantastic body. You should see it. And he’s pretty well-endowed, let me tell you.’

‘You already did,’ Nesta reminded her. ‘So what are you going to do,’ she asked, returning to the table with her tea, ‘if he doesn’t invite you to the party or over to his place tonight?’

Sandy frowned and instead of answering the question, she said, ‘Why are you saying that? Why do you think he wouldn’t invite me? I told you, it’s really happening between us now, so why can’t you accept that?’

‘I can if it’s true,’ Nesta told her.

‘Well it is,’ Sandy assured her. ‘It’s why he waited so long. I mean, if all he’d wanted was to screw me he’d have done it ages ago, wouldn’t he?’

‘I don’t know, would he?’ Nesta countered. Then, sighing, she said, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so cynical, but it just doesn’t feel right somehow.’

‘What doesn’t?’ Sandy asked churlishly.

‘I don’t know. The fact that he didn’t take you out first, I suppose. Did you call Isabelle back, by the way? She wants to talk you into staying with your regulars.’

‘No way!’ Sandy cried. ‘I told you, I told her, that’s all behind me now. I don’t want to be paid for dates any more, I want to go on real ones, the way other women do. Besides, if it really does get going with me and Michael I can hardly two-time him with strangers, can I?’

Nesta’s surprise showed. ‘If?’ she repeated. ‘You sounded a hundred per cent a moment ago, now it’s “if”.’

‘You know what I mean,’ Sandy said irritably.

‘What I know is that there’s every chance you’re jumping the gun here,’ Nesta said frankly, ‘and if you are, you’re going to end up …’

‘Stop being so bloody negative, will you?’ Sandy broke in angrily. ‘If you’d been there, if you’d seen the way he was with me you’d know that it means something to him too. OK, he’s still fighting it, but not as much as he was, and I expect by now he’s already come to the conclusion that his rule about no relationships in the office is just a waste of time when he’s the only one who sticks to it.’

‘So everyone else is having an affair, are they?’ Nesta said.

‘No, not everyone. Just Jodi and Harry, though no one’s supposed to know about that, because his wife’s pregnant and due in a couple of weeks.’

‘The bastard,’ Nesta retorted, screwing up her nose in disgust. ‘Give me the escort business any day, at least it’s honest.’

Sandy threw her a look loaded with cynicism.

‘I don’t set out to deceive anyone,’ Nesta reminded her. ‘It’s a business arrangement, we have some fun and no one gets hurt. What Jodi and Harry are doing is shameful.’

Sandy laughed mockingly. ‘Oh, look at you on the moral high ground,’ she sneered. ‘“We have some fun and no one gets hurt.” What do you think all those wives would say if they found out their husbands were paying to sleep with another woman every time they came to London?’

‘There’s no reason for them ever to find out,’ Nesta said. ‘And if they did at least they wouldn’t have the fear of me trying to break up their families. Anyway, I’m not getting into defending myself here,’ she said. ‘My conscience is clear about what I do. I don’t lie to myself and pretend things are the way I want them to be just because I don’t like the way they are.’

Sandy’s eyes sparked. ‘Meaning I do?’ she challenged.

‘You said it,’ Nesta responded. ‘Not that it makes any difference to me. If you want to go around kidding yourself some man is crazy about you when all he did was screw you for a night, then you go right ahead and do it. Just don’t be surprised when he doesn’t invite you to parties or first nights or wherever else you’re hoping to go with him, because you can take it from me, it’s not going to happen.’

‘What’s the matter with you!’ Sandy shouted. ‘Anyone would think you were jealous, the way you’re carrying on.’

‘What’s there to be jealous of?’ Nesta cried, throwing out her hands. ‘If the man had told you he’d been wanting this for months … If he was on the phone now telling you how he can’t wait to see you again …’

‘He did,’ Sandy cried.

Nesta stopped and wrinkled her nose. ‘Did what?’ she said.

Sandy was racking her brains, trying to remember exactly what had been said about wanting to do it for ages, or always knowing it would happen, or something like that. She couldn’t quite recall it now, but it had certainly come up. ‘He did say he’d been wanting it for months,’ she said. ‘OK, not in those words, but we both knew it was something we’d wanted almost since we met.’

Nesta’s eyes remained on hers, simmering with all the things she wanted to say, but didn’t quite have the heart to. In the end she simply sighed and shook her head. ‘OK, have it your way,’ she said flatly. ‘The man’s nuts about you.’

‘Don’t say it like that!’ Sandy protested.

Nesta shrugged. ‘Did you tell him you’ve got your engagement ring all picked out?’ she said. ‘Or are you saving that for the second date?’

‘Very funny,’ Sandy snapped, and turning away she snatched the bread from the toaster and yanked open the fridge for the butter. By the time the toast was ready to eat her eyes were so full of tears she could barely see. ‘You bitch!’ she suddenly seethed, slamming a hand on the counter. ‘Why do you have to go and spoil it all?’

Her back was still turned, but it was more than evident she was crying. ‘Oh God,’ Nesta groaned, getting to her feet and going to her. ‘I’m sorry. Look, I’m sure I’ve got it all wrong …’

‘No! Don’t!’ Sandy snapped, shoving Nesta’s arm away and rounding on her furiously. ‘It’s too late to take it back now. And why should you? You’ve never thought I was good enough for him, so don’t start pretending now.’

‘Look, all I’m saying is, you’ve only spent one night with the man and as far as I can make out he didn’t mention anything about any feelings, which is normal for a first date,’ she said, raising her voice as Sandy tried to interrupt, ‘so do yourself a favour and try slowing up a bit. I know you think you’re in love with him, but you’ve never had a relationship with him and he might turn out to be a complete bastard who you can’t stand the sight of after a couple of months …’

‘I don’t want to discuss it any more,’ Sandy cut in. ‘You don’t know him, so you don’t know what you’re talking about. And I can’t expect you to understand the way I feel when all you want out of men is money.’

‘I notice you haven’t chosen one who’s exactly poor,’ Nesta shot back.

‘It’s got nothing to do with money,’ Sandy raged.

Nesta was shaking her head. ‘You’re still lying to yourself, Sandy,’ she said. ‘It’s got everything to do with money and status and power, and all those things you think he’s going to give you to make you feel like someone instead of no one. You’re using him, for God’s sake. Or at least you’re trying to and even if you succeed and he does fall in love with you, I’m telling you now, the only way you’re ever going to be someone is when you do it for yourself. He can’t do it for you, nor can I, nor can anyone else. It has to come from you, from here!’ she cried, banging a hand against Sandy’s heart. ‘You’ve got to start believing in yourself and stop trying to climb on his ladder to get to the top, because it doesn’t work that way. You don’t want to be an agent any more than you want to be an actress. All you want is to impress Michael McCann because you’ve made up your mind he’s the answer to all your prayers when you don’t even know what you’re praying for. So get a life, Sandy. Your own life. Not the one you think he wants you to have, because he’s no different from any other man on this planet: he’ll only start respecting you when you start respecting yourself.’

Sandy’s face was pale as she stared blindly at the watercress on the window-sill. Though she could hear what Nesta was saying she was blocking it from her mind, for Nesta had to be out of her head, saying she should try to find a life without Michael when they’d only just started seeing each other. They had everything in front of them now, and there was just no way she was giving up her career when she’d just been promoted to Diana’s and Janey’s assistant. Nesta didn’t know what she was talking about, saying she didn’t want to be an agent. Of course she wanted to be an agent, it was why she’d applied herself to it the way she had these past eight months and she was damned well going to carry on applying herself, because it was absolutely what she wanted, to become an agent and be as important to Michael as he was to her. And everyone, except Nesta it seemed, knew that if you wanted something badly enough you had to go out there and fight for it. Which was exactly what she was doing.

‘I’m going to get changed for work now,’ she said, and without even glancing at Nesta she turned and walked off to her bedroom.

Michael was at his desk going over a pile of new contracts that Freda had left for him to sign. It was almost midday and mercifully Sandy hadn’t shown up yet, though the fact that she was likely to at any minute and maybe carry on like they were an item was putting an edge on his nerves that was ruining his concentration. The real irony of the day, though, was that a call should have come from Rio just as she was leaving the apartment.

Sighing, he dropped his pen and rested his forehead on the heel of his hand. What a god-damned mess, and right now he didn’t know what the hell he was going to do to change it.

‘Michael,’ Jodi’s voice came over the intercom. ‘I know you said you didn’t want to take any calls, but Ellen Shelby’s on the line and I wasn’t sure …’

‘Put her on,’ Michael said and picking up the receiver he put it to his ear and turned his chair to look out of the window. ‘Hi. How are you?’ he said, using the sonorous lilt of his voice to close out everything but her.

‘Embarrassed,’ she answered, matching his tone. ‘And sorry I walked out like that. I meant to pick up the tab.’

As she spoke he was picturing her face, her soft brown eyes, the flawless complexion, the ripeness of her mouth, the amazing allure of her smile. He felt a pull on his heart and wasn’t surprised by how much he wanted to see her again. ‘Did you get back all right?’ he asked. ‘I should have come after you.’

‘I was OK, thanks,’ she responded. ‘I found a taxi.’ She paused, then said, ‘I had a lovely evening, I just wish it hadn’t ended the way it did.’

Michael smiled and was unable to keep the irony from his voice as he said, ‘You and me both. Where are you now?’

‘At my hotel.’

He was on the point of suggesting lunch, when he spotted Sandy outside and with a terrible sinking sensation he reminded himself that misleading one woman was bad enough, to do it to Ellen too would be unforgivable when he had no intention of selling out to Forgon. Except lunch wouldn’t be about Forgon, would it? It would be about them, which was perhaps an even better reason to avoid it, as the last thing he wanted was to entangle himself in a relationship with Ellen when there was little doubt in his mind that the road they would travel would be much more serious than he wanted.

‘When do you go back to the States?’ he asked, already knowing the answer.

‘Next Monday,’ she said. There was a moment’s hesitation before she said, ‘Unless …’

‘Don’t do it,’ he interrupted. ‘Don’t ask, because the answer’s the same now as it was last night and it’s not going to change by Monday.’

‘Will it ever change?’ she said and the ambiguity affected him more than he wanted to think about.

‘No,’ he answered.

They were quiet for a moment and as he watched a flock of birds soar through the sky he could only wonder at the amazing timing of it all, that she should come into his life now … But there was no point going any further with that so he let it go.

‘I’m sorry about the twenty grand,’ he said, ‘but at least you get to keep your job.’

‘Yes, I get to keep that,’ she confirmed.

He would have given anything, to be with her right now, for he could almost see the hurt in her eyes at the way he was rejecting her. ‘What about the problem?’ he asked.

‘It’s mine,’ she answered. ‘Nothing you need worry yourself about.’

‘If Forgon reneges on the job, you know there’s one here,’ he told her.

‘Thank you,’ she said softly.

He knew instinctively that even if Forgon did double-cross her, she’d never come to London and as he’d never move to LA he could only consider it a good thing that they were ending this now, before it even began. But even as he thought it he was forming the words to ask her to the opera that night, or wherever he was going. It didn’t matter as long as he saw her. Instead he said, ‘You take care of yourself, OK?’

‘You too,’ she said. ‘And if you’re ever in LA, remember I owe you a dinner.’

He didn’t reply and after a few seconds the line went dead.

It was a while before he turned back to his desk and hung up. He wondered what she was thinking now, if she was feeling as bad as he was, but it was better this way, less hurt, less complications. He suspected she’d go back to the States earlier than scheduled, now she knew there was no chance of persuading him to sign. In a way he hoped she would, as he knew the temptation to call her over the next few days was only going to get stronger.

Swivelling his chair back to the window, he got up and sliding his hands in his pockets, stared down at the river below. Minute after minute ticked by as he stood there reflecting on the past twenty-four hours and how he was going to handle the next. He felt so bad about Sandy and the way he had treated her that he wondered if he should take her out tonight in an effort to make up for it. But then he reminded himself that he had already put her in Ellen’s place once and look where it had got him, so he’d be crazy to do it again. And cruel, for he knew how much it would mean to her, while all it would be to him was some kind of penance.

He was sorry for his antipathy, but there was no point pretending he felt anything for her when the truth of it was he’d fire her right now if he could, just to get her out of his life. Not that it would get her off his conscience, of course, if anything she’d probably weigh even heavier, but it might be better than having to see her and deal with her every day. God-damn it, it was why he had the rule about no relationships in the office, to avoid exactly this kind of mess. And OK, he was a coward too, he didn’t want to face her, but what the hell kind of a bastard would he be if he were actually looking forward to telling her that all she had been was a one-night stand?

‘Confucius, he say, when man look out of window he run out of luck.’

Laughing, Michael turned to Zelda who was closing the door behind her. ‘But not out of gin,’ he said.

Zelda looked amazed. ‘Did you just read my mind?’ she exclaimed.

Michael was still grinning. ‘No, but I think you read mine,’ he responded.

Zelda’s eyebrows made a sardonic arch. ‘Not difficult when I see you standing there like that,’ she told him. ‘Is it personal or professional? No, don’t tell me, it has to be personal, because personal always gets you to the window. Professional just gets you mad. So let me see, where does that lead me? To last night and Ellen Shelby? Don’t tell me she turned you down.’

‘You’re right, she did,’ he answered, not wanting to do Ellen the disservice of telling anyone it was more the other way round. ‘But it’s not about Ellen,’ he said. ‘It’s about Michelle.’

‘Oh.’ Zelda’s expression was instantly grave, for she knew that he never mentioned Michelle unless it was serious and only then if he had to. ‘Have you heard from her?’ she asked, sitting in a visitor’s chair as he leant back against the window-sill.

He shook his head. ‘Not from her, from Cavan,’ he answered. ‘He called this morning, from Rio.’

‘Where Michelle is,’ Zelda added unnecessarily.

Michael nodded.

‘So what did he say?’ Zelda prompted, when he showed no sign of enlarging.

Michael’s eyes came back to hers. ‘As a matter of fact he didn’t mention her,’ he responded. ‘But I know Cavan and I know when he’s holding back.’

‘And you think it’s Michelle he’s holding back about?’

‘I know it is,’ he answered, ‘because there’s nothing else he’d have a problem mentioning. And he was definitely trying to tell me something.’

Zelda looked perplexed. ‘So what was he saying, exactly?’ she asked.

Michael shrugged. ‘He just kept telling me it was all right, he’s taking care of things and he thinks I ought to know but isn’t sure he’s the one who should tell me.’

‘But he doesn’t say what it is?’

‘No. I asked, obviously, but all he says is that I probably already know and he’s just making a mountain out of a molehill.’

‘Do you think he’s trying to tell you Michelle’s involved with another man?’ Zelda asked bluntly.

Michael laughed. ‘I hope she is by now,’ he answered. ‘It’s been a long time.’

Zelda’s expression showed how unconvinced she was by that, but she passed no comment. ‘So what are you going to do?’ she asked.

‘I don’t see there’s anything I can do,’ he responded.

Zelda didn’t even hesitate. ‘Except call Michelle and ask her what’s going on.’

His eyes were suddenly harsh and Zelda’s heart went out to him, for she of all people knew what it would cost him to do that.

‘It’s been a long time for you too, Michael,’ she said gently.

‘She knows where I am.’

‘So do you know where she is.’

Michael’s eyes dropped to the floor and Zelda knew she’d hit home. But she’d done it many times in the past and he had yet to act on it, so she had no faith that he would now. She wished to God he would, though, for the pain and guilt he’d carried with him these past few years had to come to an end one day. If it didn’t, then Zelda just couldn’t see how he was going to get on with his life, for no matter how many women he met, she knew he was never going to let any one of them come close. The sad thing was that for a while there she had thought maybe Ellen Shelby could be the one, but obviously she wasn’t, which was a great shame, for a new life in another country could be just what Michael needed. Not with Ted Forgon as the puppetmaster, though, Zelda had to agree that, but to fall in love and let go of the past was very definitely something Michael needed to do. Although, were she in his position, she wondered if she’d be any better at moving on than he was. She doubted it, in fact she imagined she’d be a whole lot worse.

‘I was thinking about asking Sandy to join us at the opera tonight,’ he said.

Zelda’s astonishment couldn’t have been greater. ‘You were?’ she said.

Michael laughed wryly. ‘You can invite her,’ he said, ‘as a reward for getting off to a great start as an assistant. Have you seen Janey’s and Diana’s turnover for this month?’

‘No,’ Zelda said warily, ‘but it’s obviously impressive if you’re inviting Sandy to the opera.’

‘I’m not, you are,’ he reminded her.

Zelda was watching him closely. ‘If I didn’t know better,’ she said, ‘I’d say there’s more to this than a simple reward.’

‘But you do know better,’ he told her, and pushing himself away from the window ledge he took his coat from the stand and started out of the office.

At that moment he had no real idea of where he was going, though the name of Ellen’s hotel was emblazoned on his mind, as was the mistake he had just made about Sandy and the opera. But he knew he wouldn’t go to Ellen, any more than he’d go to Sandy. And right now it was hard to care about either of them when the memory of Michelle and what they had together had been brought so painfully back into focus. What he needed to know, however, was whether Cavan really was trying to tell him something, or if he was just using that as an excuse to be back in touch with her?

He drove and didn’t stop until finally he reached the south coast, where the wind was chopping at the waves and the sun was beating down on the barren cliffs. It was no real surprise to find himself there, for it was where he and Michelle had said their final goodbye. But coming back to the place wasn’t going to turn back the clock, nor was it going to eliminate the guilt that time had only intensified rather than lessened. Through the sough of the waves and the cry of the wind he could hear her voice echoing softly in his ears, telling him she was going, and as the pain flooded his heart he wondered bitterly why he was searching for an excuse to call her, when he already had one that not only gave him the right to speak to her morning, noon and night should he care to, but to force her to come back to England too.

He wouldn’t use it, though, for the sin was as much his as it was hers and no matter how much love there was between them they had chosen their paths and it was too late now to turn back, or to forgive. But Cavan’s call had unnerved him and he just hoped to God that she was all right, because Rio was a dangerous place and … He stopped, knowing that if he wanted to keep his sanity then he mustn’t even begin to go down that road, for there were times, like now, when her death seemed like it might be the only way out of this hell.