Chapter 5

THE PAPERS WERE full if it. Every time Allyson turned on the TV or radio it seemed that they too had little else to discuss but the break-up of the Jaymes’s marriage. The desertion of a near-forty-year-old woman for a teenage girl was simply too delightfully salacious to pass over, especially when it concerned two such well-known faces. It was as though the entire nation had become obsessed with it. Her phone never stopped ringing. Journalists and photographers she’d always considered friends were constantly crowding her in the street, demanding to know how she was, if she had anything to say, or if she would take Bob back. She never made any comment, but how dearly she sometimes wanted to scream at them for their obtuseness and stupidity.

The windows of her flat had become the focus of telescopic lenses. Shots of her getting into her car, going into a shop, arriving at the office, were all making the front pages. Her mother was photographed too, at the chemist collecting sleeping pills for her father that the headline claimed were for Allyson. Even the people in the village where she and Bob had their country home were being dug out of their cottages and asked to comment on the break-up. She was under siege, not only in her private life, but in her professional life too, as the programme ratings had shot through the roof. Everyone was watching, looking, she supposed, for signs of how she was handling this. Inwardly she wasn’t. But outwardly she was doing everything she could to make it look as though she was on top of the situation and perfectly able to cope.

Achieving that front was the most difficult undertaking she’d ever been faced with, especially when all she wanted was to die, or at the very least to hide from the world and pretend that none of this was happening. She was still in shock, she knew that, but it didn’t make the pain, or the longing, or the horrible desperation that threw her into all kinds of madness any the less. There were so many times when all she wanted was to scream and scream, as though the noise would drive out the pain, or would maybe even reach him and make him come back to save her, before she went under. She even considered telling him she had cancer, or she was pregnant, or she would kill herself if he didn’t come back. Anything to get his attention, to know that he still cared, maybe even still loved her.

But she did none of it. She simply slipped from one moment to the next, and prayed with all the might in her soul that he would come to his senses soon and end this terrible pain she was suffering, for having to go through it at all was bad enough, but having to go through it publicly was nothing short of torture. Yet in its way it was probably the spotlight that was saving her, for knowing that the whole world was watching her, waiting for her to go to pieces, was what forced her out of bed in the morning and somehow, miraculously, held her together through the day. The nights were a whole different story and she was coming to dread them like she had never dreaded anything in her life. Every minute, every second, was spent either tearing herself apart in grief and denial, or waiting for the phone to ring, bringing the call that would tell her he had made a mistake and was coming home. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d called Tessa’s, but she only ever got the machine and couldn’t bring herself to leave a message. She guessed they were there, but were screening their calls, just as she was, in order to avoid the press. She tried several times to get hold of him at work, but that wasn’t getting her anywhere either, because unless his colleagues were lying to her he hadn’t spoken to any of them since the day the news had broken. And knowing that he and Tessa were holed up together, and had each other to help them through this, hurt beyond almost anything else.

Two weeks passed and still Tessa didn’t come into the office. Nor did she call. They were difficult weeks for everyone, as the whole team was being bombarded by the press, and no-one knew quite how to behave towards Allyson. She was so pale and drawn that whenever they were around her they spoke in hushed tones as though she were ill. And if anyone caught her eye she was treated to looks of such sympathy it made her feel like screaming. She didn’t want to be this object of pity. She wanted them to laugh around her and tease her the way they always did, even though she didn’t have it in her to respond.

‘If firing the girl wasn’t going to land us in even deeper hot water, I’d go right to Stella,’ Shelley said.

Allyson shook her head. ‘You know we can’t do that,’ she said. ‘If we do there’s a chance she’ll sue, and that kind of publicity I can definitely do without. Besides, it’ll just turn me into the villain and right now, I don’t think I could handle that either.’ Her face was gaunt and strained and the trauma of the last two weeks was etched deeply around her eyes, one of nature’s cruelties that had not been missed by the press.

Shelley went to refill their coffee cups. They were in Allyson’s dressing room, where they’d spent a lot of time lately, even sleeping there one night when Allyson had been unable to face going home, and they’d both drunk too much to drive.

‘We still don’t know for certain that she will be coming back,’ Shelley said.

‘Oh she will,’ Allyson responded. ‘Don’t ask me how I know that, I just do.’ She took the coffee Shelley was handing her and turned to look at the TV monitors. ‘I should start getting ready for the studio,’ she said.

‘I wish you’d take some time off. You’re asking too much of yourself, trying to carry on like this.’

Whether she was right or not Allyson had no idea. All she knew was that if she didn’t come to the office, and was forced to spend every day in the home that was still so full of Bob, then she’d probably end up doing something crazy. As it was no minute of the day was bearable, but those she spent alone were beyond torment and pain, they were unrelenting hell.

‘Do you think it’s going to get feudal, if … she does come back?’ she said, unable to utter Tessa’s name.

‘I think it’ll be hard to avoid,’ Shelley replied.

Allyson sighed. ‘I thought you’d say that. So I want to talk to everyone, after the recording. I want to ask them not to take sides, and turn the place into some kind of war zone. I’m assuming that most of them will side with me, which might be gratifying for a while, but in the end it won’t help. It’ll probably just encourage me to do what I really want to do, which is kill her.’ She put a hand to her head as a horrible lurching pain twisted her heart. ’God, every time I think of them together …’ She swallowed hard. ‘Oh Shelley, sometimes I mean it, you know, I really do want to kill her.’

Shelley smiled. ‘Of course you do,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t. But I swear to you that relationship of theirs is destined for disaster. Oh, he might think it’s going to work out while it’s all new and exciting, and still in the heady heights of passion, but we both know Bob, and I’m telling you, once the novelty starts wearing off he’ll soon find out that he can’t survive without you.’

Allyson sighed and shook her head. ‘Right now, it feels the other way round,’ she said dismally. ‘But I have to believe what you’re telling me, because if I don’t … Well, there wouldn’t seem much point in going on, would there?’

‘Then believe it,’ Shelley said. ‘And don’t underestimate your strength, because you’ve got plenty more than you might imagine. However, I don’t think you can keep Tessa as your assistant. That would be pushing yourself too far.’

Allyson looked away and stared blindly down at the floor. Shelley was right, of course, she couldn’t have Tessa involved in her everyday life any more, or certainly not in the way she once had been. The strange thing was she was going to miss her, but a bolt of hatred soon wrenched that misguided notion from her head, reminding her of how she loathed and detested the girl whose despicable treachery had turned her into a vile snake in the lush green grass of her mentor’s marriage. However, Tessa’s future with Soirée was something Allyson had given a lot of thought to, and despite the overwhelming desire to kit the girl out with horns and a pitchfork and despatch her off down the Styx, or at the very least to shove her back to where she came from, she’d reached a decision that she needed to discuss with Shelley in order to evaluate its merit.

Shelley listened quietly, thoughtfully, showing some surprise, even doubt, and once looked like she might argue. But by the time Allyson had finished Shelley was ready to accept her suggestion, not necessarily because she considered it the best solution, but it was one that would work. And if Allyson was sure she could handle it, then Shelley would talk to Stella when she returned in a couple of weeks, and get her to put it in motion.

Bob was lying on top of the bed in the cramped bedroom of Tessa’s South London flat, feeling ludicrously oversized and clumsily masculine in amongst the flowery Laura Ashley decor, dozens of fluffy toys, and silly girlish fripperies Tessa had scattered about the place. But, small though it was, they’d spent a lot more time in this room these past couple of weeks than they had anywhere else in the flat, as they’d indulged themselves in a never-ending orgy of sex that made even his wildest dreams look tame. For days they’d gone without wearing any clothes at all, only putting on dressing-gowns when the food they’d sent out for was delivered, invariably by undercover journos, who’d seized the opportunity along with the pizza to climb the two flights of stairs in the hope of snatching a few shots of the famous couple, or at least getting one of them to comment.

At first it had been funny, romantic even, fighting the siege together, confined to the badly wallpapered rooms of their ’love nest’ with nothing but sex, Trivial Pursuit and TV to occupy the time. But two weeks on it wasn’t quite so romantic, in fact it was fast deteriorating into a nightmare of frustration and guilt. Frustration because the press just wouldn’t let them move, and guilt, obviously because of Allyson, and the cowardice that was stopping him picking up the phone to make sure she was all right.

Of course Tessa was always on hand with comfort and strength, dark eyes flashing with defiance as she refused to accept that either of them had done anything wrong, since neither of them had had any choice in the matter of falling in love. It had just happened, and berating themselves for it now, and feeling guilty about Allyson, wasn’t going to change it. Brave words, considering he knew how terrible she really felt, for he was the one who wiped away her tears every time she cried for all the pain they were causing to someone they cared about so deeply.

It was odd, perverse even, the way their concern for Allyson was creating such a bond between them, but that wasn’t something he liked to dwell on, for he preferred to think only of Tessa and her tender and generous heart, that was so easily moved by the plight of others that almost any tragedy she read about in the papers reduced her to tears. She just couldn’t bear the idea of anyone suffering, and he couldn’t help but be shamed by the way she seemed to mind even more about Allyson than he did. Except that wasn’t true, of course, because it was tearing him apart. But she kept insisting it was like betraying her own mother, a comparison that he knew would thrill Allyson about as much as it thrilled him when she teasingly called him Daddy. The disparity in their ages wasn’t something he enjoyed being reminded of, nor did her childish little voices during sex do much for him either. In fact, quite the reverse, but he didn’t even want to get in touch with the horrendous nature of what it could actually make him feel like were he to go along with it. She’d never put those voices on before, but she’d soon stopped when he’d told her he didn’t like it, because her only wish was to please him, not to offend him or make him angry. And there was no doubt she pleased him, for he was still hardly able to get enough of her, despite the terrible strain of the guilt – and the imprisonment. But it couldn’t be much longer before those bloodhounds outside found some other juicy bones to unearth and savage and maybe then he and Tessa could start going out again, maybe even return to work. After all they couldn’t exist on sex and pizza for ever, and her meagre savings weren’t going to last long with a baby on the way, especially if he didn’t get up the courage to go and raid his and Allyson’s joint accounts some time soon.

‘Guess what?’ Tessa said, coming into the bedroom with the mail. ‘I’ve got a letter here from Stella Cornbright, the big boss. She’s asking me to go and see her.’ She looked at Bob with wide, apprehensive eyes. ‘Do you think they’re going to sack me?’ she said.

He shook his head. ‘If they were they’d tell you in the letter,’ he said.

She sat down next to him and read over the neatly typed few lines again. ‘Maybe I should just resign,’ she said.

Sighing, he reached up to tousle her hair. ‘We’ve been over all that,’ he said, ‘and I thought you didn’t want to.’

‘I don’t, but …’ She turned to look at him, then smiled as he started untying her robe.

They’d spent enough time discussing her return to Soirée, and though he thought it was a bit odd that she wanted to go back, it was her life, and if Allyson was prepared to accept her back then it was hardly his place to argue.

‘There don’t seem to be any reporters out there this morning,’ she told him, while watching their reflections in the dressing-table mirror as his fingers rotated around her nipples.

‘Thank God for that,’ he responded.

She grinned. ‘Something tells me you’re in a better mood than you were last night,’ she teased.

‘I am,’ he said, moving his other hand down to his penis and idly stroking it.

She stood up and shrugged off her robe. ‘I thought I might go back to work today,’ she said. ‘If it’s all right with you.’

He laughed. ‘You’re the one who has to face it,’ he reminded her. ‘When does Stella Cornbright want to see you?’

‘Next week. I thought I might try to get a lie of the land first.’

He shrugged. ‘Up to you.’ Then, rubbing a hand over her tummy, he said, ‘I don’t think we should go public about the baby yet though.’

‘Oh God no,’ she gasped. ‘That’s something you’ll have to tell Allyson about before we even think about telling anyone else.’

He shifted restlessly as though to escape the unease that swept through him. That particular nightmare could wait, though just the thought of it had had a deflating effect on his ardour.

‘Oh dear,’ Tessa said playfully, looking at it. ‘I imagine you’d like me to do something about that before I go.’

Smiling, he reached out and pulled her down on top of him. ‘You’re something else, do you know that?’ he said, his lips almost touching hers, his arms holding her tightly.

She wriggled a bit, pressing her knees into the bed, and wrapping her feet around the back of his legs until he was halfway inside her.

‘Mmmm,’ he murmured, rocking his hips slowly up and down. Then holding her face between his hands he began kissing her deeply, using his tongue and his lips, and moving gently in and out of her until she sat back to take him fully inside her.

He raised his knees to support her back and held her hands wide as he gazed up into her face. If only he could feel like this all the time, so right about being here, and so definite that she was everything he wanted. But it was clear that his conscience wasn’t going to make this an easy trip, though when it really acted up the whisky helped. Thank God Tessa didn’t nag him about that, but she wouldn’t, because she never nagged him about anything. She didn’t even complain when he started thrashing about in a temper, the way he had last night, when he’d felt so trapped and cooped up, and furious with Allyson for being the source of his misery, that he’d drunk far too much Scotch and had ended up virtually passing out. He wasn’t going to admit, even to himself, that it was the fact that Allyson seemed to be coping so well that was becoming so hard to deal with. Not that he wanted her to suffer. Far from it. In fact when he’d first realized she hadn’t even taken a break from presenting the programme he’d felt only relief that she was managing to get on with her life, especially as it had acted like a very welcome pressure valve for the bottled-up might of his guilt. But, for some reason, when he’d seen her on the screen last night it had irritated the hell out of him, and made him feel resentful for the way her life didn’t seem to be on hold the way his was, nor was she barricaded inside her flat like some rat in a trap.

But this morning, hangover aside, he was feeling just dandy as he lay here with Tessa, his gorgeous, insatiable little nymphet, who was carrying his baby, and for whom he must find a bigger, better home. She deserved everything he could give her for the way she made him feel so much better about himself, his decisions, and the whole wonderful life they had ahead of them.

‘Oh my God!’ Allyson murmured, coming to a halt. ‘Tell me that’s not Tessa Dukes standing in my office.’

Shelley was beside her. They were at the far end of the production office, just returning from lunch. The rest of the team was busy on the phones or with computers, though everyone had to be acutely aware that this would be the first time Allyson and Tessa had seen each other since the night Bob had left.

‘I didn’t think she’d come back until after she’d seen Stella,’ Shelley remarked. ‘I’ve got to hand it to her, she’s got some nerve.’

Allyson was shaking all over. She’d never felt so out of control, so at the whim of emotions that were conflicting like sworn enemies inside her. But she had to go through with this, she had to see the girl, she just wished to God she wasn’t having to do it in front of an audience.

‘I’ll deal with it if you like,’ Shelley said.

‘No! No, it’s OK,’ Allyson said, and before she could give herself any chance of backing down she started across the room towards her office, moving swiftly in an effort to strengthen the weakness in her legs. Just thank God she was carrying a huge pile of mail in her arms so no-one could see how badly her hands were shaking.

Tessa was already watching her, that meek, frightened look she knew so well darkening her eyes, those naturally ruddy cheeks spreading their colour down over her neck and chest. At least she’d had the decency to wear something less revealing than normal, but even so Allyson couldn’t stop herself imagining the body that was beneath those jeans and baggy V-neck sweater, the body that Bob was daily, maybe hourly, pounding with passion.

‘Hello Allyson,’ she said softly, as Allyson stalked into the room.

Allyson stared at her coldly. Then, continuing to walk round her desk, she put down a pile of mail and said, ‘I didn’t invite you in here, so please leave.’

Tessa’s eyes dropped, then taking a breath she said, ‘Allyson, please, I think we should talk …’

‘I said, leave,’ Allyson repeated.

‘I want you to know that if …’

Allyson’s eyes closed, then suddenly she seethed, ‘Get the fucking hell out of my office.’

Everyone outside stopped what they were doing. Then Shelley was there, grabbing Tessa by the arm and pushing her towards the door.

‘Clear out your desk,’ she said. ‘We’ll find you another by the end of the day.’

Closing the door she turned to Allyson, who was chalk white and shaking so badly she had to sit down.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I swore to myself that when this happened I wouldn’t make a scene, but …’

‘It’s OK,’ Shelley interrupted. ‘What did she say?’

‘Nothing. Except she thought we should talk.’ She dragged her hands across her face and pushed them back into her hair. ‘I don’t know if I can handle this …’

‘You are handling it,’ Shelley told her. ‘You’re handling it better than anyone I know.’

Allyson shook her head. ‘It’s all show, and you know it.’ Suddenly her face crumpled and only with supreme effort did she manage to stop herself crying. Had she been at home she wouldn’t even have tried. ‘Oh God, it’s all so horrible,’ she choked. ‘I hate him, I absolutely despise him, but I still can’t stop going over and over in my head all the things I wish I’d done, or hadn’t done. What I should have said …’

‘It’s still early days,’ Shelley reminded her. ‘These things take time.’

Allyson blew her nose. ‘Platitudes? Not like you, Shell.’

Shelley smiled too. ‘Here’s another,’ she said. ‘It’s OK to cry.’

‘No,’ Allyson responded. ‘I do enough of that every night. I don’t want to start flooding my days too.’ She took a deep breath, which shook as it came out. ‘I wish to God I could stop imagining them together. I keep telling myself it’s enough to know, I don’t have to reproduce it in my own private Technicolor. Anyway,’ she said, abruptly straightening her shoulders. ‘I’ve got to get through this, and today’s bound to be the worst, so I’ll just keep projecting my thoughts to somewhere in the future when he gets tired of little orphan Annie out there and wants to come home. My latest fantasy has me telling him to fuck off and him going demented in some bar that I have to go and rescue him from.’

‘Sounds more like reality to me,’ Shelley said dryly. ‘Anyway, as it’s not a programme day you can just go home if you find the sight of her starts really getting to you.’

Allyson forced a smile, then after Shelley had left she sat staring at the phone, her heart thudding away like a drum as she tried to pluck up the courage to call him. Tessa was here, so he could be at the flat alone …

Ten minutes later she was still sitting there, rehearsing a thousand different versions of what he might say if she said, and what she would say if he said … In the end she got angry and grabbed the receiver. This was her husband, for God’s sake, she’d never been afraid to talk to him before, so she damned well wasn’t going to be now.

Only after she finished dialling did she realize how badly she was shaking again, and when his voice suddenly came down the line her heart gave such a horrible lurch she thought she was going to pass out.

‘Bob?’ she said, fighting to stop herself imagining his face, or where he was standing, or how he might be feeling about the fact that his telephone number was no longer the same as hers. ‘It’s me.’

Silence.

Obviously he was shocked. He needed a moment. OK, she’d give it to him.

‘What do you want?’ he said finally.

Suddenly she was reeling, knocked so off course by his abruptness that she didn’t even stop to consider that it might have been caused by nerves or caution or guilt, she only knew anger that very nearly exploded in a stream of vile and incoherent abuse. But mercifully she had the wit to take a deep breath and remember that everyone outside would hear, so all she said was, ‘I want you to get the rest of your belongings out of my home by the end of the day!’ And she slammed down the phone.

Immediately she regretted it, for the last thing she wanted was him going into the flat while she wasn’t there, and she didn’t want to be there with him either, not while he was breaking apart their lives. Oh God, what a mess she’d got herself into now, but she could hardly call him back and tell him she’d changed her mind. But why not? She had every right to, in fact she could do anything she liked, even if it did mean making a fool of herself.

This time the answerphone picked up her call, but she knew he’d still be there, so she said, ‘On second thoughts, Bob, I’ll send it all round in a taxi, so don’t bother putting yourself to the trouble of coming back. Ever!’ And once again she slammed down the phone.

A few minutes later she was down in her dressing room, stretched out on the sofa, utterly drained. But it was OK. She was getting through it, and at least the hurdle of seeing Tessa for the first time was now behind her. It could be she was going to regret the decision she’d reached about the girl’s future on the programme, but for the time being she didn’t have the energy even to think about changing it, so she’d just have to let events take their course and pray that it didn’t get any worse than this.

Stella Cornbright was snacking on a packet of crisps as she read through the file in front of her. Her fingers and whiskery upper lip were stained with grease, so were the corners of the pages. Dotted around the fleshy folds of her neck were a dozen corn plasters, covering the spaces from which some sizeable warts had recently been evicted. Funny, the things a person did when they knew they were detaching from the mortal coil. She’d lived most of her life with those warts, but she’d be damned if she was going to take them with her when she went.

In the office outside Tessa waited, hands clasped tightly in front of her, eyes as big as the buttons on her short crushed-velvet dress. It didn’t seem right to sit down without being invited, but there was no-one around, and Stella Cornbright’s door was closed. She wondered if she should just knock, but decided to give it a few more minutes in the hope Melissa, Stella’s secretary, might put in an appearance.

Almost a week had gone by since she’d returned to work, and though she still waited and hoped every day that Allyson would speak to her, Allyson didn’t, nor on the whole did Shelley. Marvin, Shelley’s assistant, seemed to be taking care of Allyson, which, apart from her unofficial training, left Tessa with very little to do. At first she’d been hesitant about asking any of the reporters or researchers if she could go out with them, presuming that they too were going to freeze her out, but after some initial awkwardness, she’d found that most of the team were willing to go on helping her in much the same way as they had before.

‘Oh Tessa, sorry,’ Melissa cried, bounding breathlessly in from the rain. ‘I had to go and pick up Stella’s car from the garage. Does she know you’re here?’

‘No,’ Tessa answered, giving Melissa the once-over as she turned away to hang up her coat. ‘Cool sweater,’ she said. ‘Did you get it round here?’

‘No, in Knightsbridge,’ Melissa answered. ‘Cost a fortune. Hang on, I’ll tell Stella you’re here.’

She was back in a matter of seconds. ‘You can go in now,’ she said.

Melissa watched the door close behind Tessa and fervently wished that she could be a fly on the wall. She’d only met Tessa a couple of times, as she rarely had reason to visit the Soirée studio, but there’d been so much about her in the papers these past few weeks that Melissa, like many others, almost felt she knew her. She couldn’t help wondering what the press would make of Stella Cornbright summoning her to Leicester Square. Probably they’d come to the same conclusion as Melissa, that Tessa was about to find herself out of a job.

Stella Cornbright was staring frankly into Tessa’s face, framed in its unruly thatch of shiny black hair. She’d seen her plenty of times before, had probably considered her pretty if she’d stopped to think about it, but it wasn’t her good looks she was pondering now, it was what she’d done to Allyson and Bob Jaymes’s marriage. Stella could only lament the idiocy in a man that made him behave like a prize buffoon. And publicly too! In her opinion Allyson was probably better shot of him. Still, that was Allyson’s business, and this, for the moment, was hers.

Tricky. At least it would have been had Shelley Bronson not come up with a solution. And as there wasn’t much doubt that Shelley would have discussed the proposal with Allyson before submitting it, it seemed only sensible to go the route Shelley had laid out. Stella wasn’t sure she approved, but she was prepared to give it a go if Allyson and Shelley were.

‘Were you followed here?’ she said. Her voice was loud and sharp, making the question sound more like a reprimand.

‘You mean by the press?’ Tessa asked. ‘I don’t know. I don’t always spot them.’

‘Mm,’ Stella grunted. Then, launching straight into why Tessa was there, she said, ‘So, what are we going to do about this unholy mess you’ve created?’

As it seemed like a rhetorical question Tessa didn’t answer.

‘Well, it’s out of the question for you to continue where you are,’ Stella said. ‘And I’ll be frank with you, if Allyson had personally requested it, I’d be firing you right now. So what have you got to say to that?’

Tessa was momentarily thrown, then, clearing her throat, she said, ‘I understand your feelings, and I feel terrible about what’s happened, but …’

‘I don’t want to hear your excuses,’ Stella barked. ‘If you had any real sensitivity you’d be leaving of your own accord. But I can’t force you, nor will I try. What I’m going to do is act on the reports I’ve had on your work performance, all of which are good. That means, young lady, that instead of being thrown out on your ear, you’re being promoted.’

Tessa’s eyes flew open. ‘Promoted?’ she echoed.

‘To the position of researcher and occasional reporter. Your qualifications show you’re academically suited, and your potential, I’m told, is considerable.’ Her bulging eyes were fixed on Tessa, demanding a response.

‘Thank you,’ was all Tessa managed.

Stella closed the personnel file. ‘OK, you can go,’ she said shortly, and after her beady eyes had escorted Tessa to the door she picked up the phone to call Shelley.

‘So she got her promotion,’ Allyson said, as Shelley finished her call with Stella. ‘Tell me, am I insane? Or just a masochist?’

‘You were right,’ Shelley replied. ‘If we’d got rid of her, like you said, it wasn’t only a lawsuit we’d have had to contend with, it would have been the press too. And this way you really do look like you’re on top of things.’

Allyson sighed. ‘Why do we all have such a fascination with other people’s misery?’ she grumbled. ‘I’ve got to tell you it’s really wearing me down.’ She rubbed her eyes, then looked blankly at the frozen image of her own face that was on the screen in front of them. They were in one of the viewing rooms looking at a prerecorded Night Cap to see if it would work for tomorrow night’s programme, but Allyson was barely paying attention. ‘He called me this morning,’ she said.

‘Oh?’ Shelley said, intrigued. ‘To say what?’

‘I don’t know, I hung up. I expect he wants some more of his things, but I just can’t bear for him to come to the flat, and I can’t bring myself to pack them up either.’ Her eyes closed, as a wave of despair swept through her. It was so hard to accept that he had another address now, slept in another bed and made love to … To a child! Her teeth were suddenly clenched tightly together, as hatred and vengeance began to seethe inside her. She must have been insane to have suggested this promotion. How could she possibly have thought that keeping Tessa on the programme was a way of staying connected to Bob? She hadn’t been in her right mind. Why hadn’t Shelley seen that?

Shelley was looking at her watch. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but I’ve got to go. I’m having lunch with Mark Reiner, remember?’

Allyson pressed her hands to her face. ‘Oh God, everything’s changing,’ she wailed. ‘When’s the takeover happening, do you know?’

‘There’s no date set yet. But he’s asked to meet me.’

‘Just you, or the other programme heads too?’

‘Just me, today. We’re each getting an individual grilling, it seems.’

Allyson looked her over. ‘Well, you’ll be sure to knock him off his feet in that,’ she predicted.

Shelley smoothed her hands over her cashmere-covered breasts and leather-clad hips. ‘I wasn’t sure trousers were really appropriate,’ she said, ‘but what the hell?’

Allyson smiled, but it was clear her thoughts were elsewhere.

Shelley dropped a kiss on her forehead and quietly left the room.

Going back to her desk Shelley took out a mirror to touch up her make-up. She rarely wore much, with such smooth, olive skin and thick dark lashes, she didn’t need it. Just a subtle shade of lipstick and the finest black line to emphasize the exotic shape of her eyes.

Satisfied with the way she looked, she was on the point of putting the mirror back in its pouch when she noticed the message stuck to her screen. ‘Mark Reiner has to postpone lunch, will call again next week to reschedule.’

Screwing up the note she tossed it into the bin. Though annoyed, a part of her wanted to laugh. Maybe it was to cover her disappointment, or maybe it was simply relief. Spending so much time with Allyson lately had reminded her just how devastating the breakup of a relationship could be, and she’d charted those waters enough times to know she had no desire ever to go there again. Not that there was any reason to suspect that Mark Reiner would take her there, but she was anxious enough about the meeting to make the wait almost welcome.

‘Promoted?’ Bob echoed.

Tessa nodded. ‘I’ve been dying to tell you. Where were you?’

‘On air,’ Bob reminded her. ‘I don’t understand. Why the hell would they promote you with all that’s going on?’

‘You were probably right, they were afraid I’d sue if they fired me.’

He grunted and went to pour himself a drink.

The kitchen was so small and narrow that they had to squeeze past each other to get from one end to the other. Normally Bob loved to do that, it excited him, pressing up against her and feeling his erection make the space tighter. This evening he was too preoccupied with this astonishing news, and the godawful day he’d just had with Mack, one of the sports editors at LWT. Sure he’d let them down these past few weeks, but what the hell was he supposed to do with the press camped out on his doorstep, and every female hack in the land baying for his blood? Jesus, anyone with any sense would have stayed out of the way with all that going on. And since when was having a couple of jars at lunch time such a major crime? As he recalled, Mack had been in the pub too, and Bob was prepared to bet his next contract that it wasn’t shandy the barman was pulling into Mack’s glass.

They made him sick, the whole damned lot of them. Subs messing about with his scripts, producers giving his matches to other, less experienced, reporters, his agent calling up to tell him that the new deal they had in the offing with Sky had hit a few problems. God knew what they were, let his bloody agent sort it out, it was what he paid him for, wasn’t it?

‘She’s up to something!’ he snapped, suddenly remembering Allyson as he emptied what was left of a bottle of gin into a cheap glass. He’d presumed, at the very least, that Allyson would have Tessa removed from the programme, and sidelined somewhere else in the company. Having her promoted had never even crossed his mind, and because he couldn’t figure out what might be behind it it was pissing him off no end. ‘Haven’t we got any more?’ he growled, looking at the empty bottle.

Tessa smiled benignly. ‘It’s in the cupboard behind you,’ she said. Then, lifting her face, ‘Don’t I get a kiss, Mr Grouch?’

Reaching out, he dragged her roughly towards him and pressed his mouth hard against hers. She snaked her arms round his neck and pushed her groin against his. Since all she was wearing was one of his shirts, he had only to lift her onto the counter, unzip his trousers and enter her.

It was over quickly, and what followed, the tenderness and the giggling, the teasing and the cajoling, went a long way towards working him out of his bad mood. Though she hadn’t long gone off to take a shower before he started feeling sour again, so he opened a fresh bottle of gin and drank a bitter, bolshy toast to Allyson, whose smoothness in promoting Tessa was really getting to him now. He’d tried calling her a couple of times in the last few days, but she was refusing to talk to him, and though he needed to go back and pick up more clothes, he didn’t quite have the nerve just to show up. Probably because he couldn’t face going through another scene like the one they’d had the night he left, so maybe the answer was just to get himself a whole load of new gear and let the past stay where it was.

‘Where are you going?’ he said, when Tessa walked into the room half an hour later. He was sitting in front of the TV now, an empty plate on the floor beside him, his fourth drink of the evening hanging loosely in his hand.

‘Out,’ she answered. She was dressed in black shorts and black tights, a white cable-knit sweater and a long grey raincoat.

‘What do you mean, out?’ he said, not sober enough to get his mind fully wrapped round this surprise. ‘Where are you going?’

‘To meet Julian, down the pub.’

His face darkened. ‘Julian?’ he growled. ‘Who the hell’s Julian?’

‘My brother.’

‘You don’t have a brother. You told me you didn’t have any family.’

‘I don’t. So Julian said I could adopt him.’

‘So what the bloody hell am I supposed to do, while you’re out playing brothers and sisters? And how come you’ve never mentioned him before?’

She shrugged. ‘There was nothing to say.’

He stared at her, momentarily at a loss. ‘I don’t want you to go,’ he said in the end, certain that would do it.

She laughed and carried on stuffing things in her handbag.

He was so startled that she wasn’t doing what he wanted that he couldn’t think of anything to say.

Tessa was still smiling as she dragged a brush through her short, spiky hair, then she confounded him even further when she said, ‘Do you wish I was Allyson?’

‘What?’ he said.

‘I was just wondering if you wished I was her, so that this baby I’m carrying would be hers. Is that why you’ve stopped talking about it? Because you wish it was hers?’

This was just too much for him, so he drained his glass, and started to get up for a refill. He’d almost made it when he staggered back into the chair.

‘You’ve had too much,’ she told him lightly. Crossing to the window, she pulled back the curtain and peered down at the rain-soaked street below. ‘God, I hope there’s no press out there. I’m sick to death of them. They’re like insects, crawling all over me.’

She turned round and found him standing behind her. Catching her in his arms he held her tightly. ‘Don’t go,’ he pleaded. ‘Stay here with me.’

She smiled softly into his eyes. ‘Do you mean that?’ she said. ‘You want me to stay?’

‘Yes.’

‘But I have to go. I promised Julian.’

‘Who the hell is this Julian?’

‘He works on the programme.’

‘How old is he?’

Her eyes twinkled. ‘About my age, I guess. Not jealous are you?’

He meant to deny it but other words slurred from his lips. ‘Insanely,’ he said. ‘I want you all to myself. You know that.’

Detaching herself gently from his embrace, she hooked her bag over her shoulder and walked to the door. ‘I’ll try not to wake you when I get in,’ she said, and left.

After pouring himself another drink Bob slumped back down in front of the TV and stared at it blindly. His head was spinning and he felt nauseous, which was something Tessa never seemed to feel, given her condition. He hated even to think it, but lately he’d found himself wondering if she’d made it up about the baby. It was why he didn’t want to talk about it, he didn’t want to find out she had, because he didn’t want to deal with the ugly manipulation of it. Not that it would change anything. He’d still be here, because it was where he wanted to be.

He took a large mouthful of gin. Why the hell did she have to go off and see this bloke Julian? What did she need a brother for when she had him? He’d given up his wife, was getting regularly dumped on by the press, and she gets promoted and goes off to celebrate with Julian. It didn’t seem fair. None of it was fair. Those bloody hacks out there hadn’t been married to Allyson. They didn’t have the first idea what she was really like. For all they knew she could be some psychotic ego freak with an abnormal attachment to her man-hating best friend.

His glass hit the floor and broke. He left it where it was, too drunk and worked up to care. Why the hell should he give a damn about Allyson? He had Tessa now. She was all he wanted, everything he needed. This was all working out just fine. He’d find himself a lawyer tomorrow and start talking divorce.

Allyson stared out at the darkness, oblivious to the rain zigzagging down the windscreen. Tessa was almost out of sight now, meaning he was up there alone. A few minutes ago she’d seen them at the window. She’d sat here, in the chill space of her car, watching her husband with his arms around the girl she’d taken so warmly and trustingly into their lives.

She tensed with the quick burn of pain in her heart.

It wasn’t getting any better. It was only getting worse. Sometimes the ache of missing him was so great it felt as though it was swallowing her alive. Everywhere she looked she saw him, everything she felt was about him. She just couldn’t make herself accept that he was no longer a part of her life, maybe because without him it didn’t feel as though there was a life. There was only this terrible wrenching inside, and a void that only got wider.

She’d lost weight, a fact several columnists had pointed out to the nation, and she often looked tired, almost to the point of being haggard. But she was a professional, she still carried on with the show. She just wished the camera would stop frightening her so much. It never used to, but now, when she sat there at the cocktail bar and the lens was focused upon her, strange things started to happen inside her head. It was as though her face was contorting, stretching up to the camera, dragging her into a science-fiction journey that delivered her to millions of TV screens, where the world, like vultures, could feast on every part of her misery.

She wasn’t really going insane. Shelley assured her of that. It was normal to go off the rails a little and be so afraid when your entire life was being smashed apart as though it was worthless. She often wondered how women with children coped. It had to be so much harder for them. Whoever they were she wanted to embrace them and try to comfort them, but children or no children, there was no comfort for this.

She knew now why the press hadn’t descended on her when the News of the World first broke the story. Shelley had stopped it. She’d been tipped off it was going to happen, and she’d personally called all the editors to ask them to back off. She’d have to pay for that favour somewhere down the line, probably they both would, but they’d deal with it when the time came.

She looked up at the lamplit window. The curtains were still open, the TV seemed to be on. She could go in there now and beg him to come back. The idea of the kind of scene it would create made her sadder than ever. He wouldn’t come, nor would she go up there. She’d just sit here a while longer, and try to muster the courage to go home. To walk into the flat that still smelt of him. To open drawers and find things that belonged to him. To look at the sofa and remember him. To lie in their bed and long for him.

She covered her face with her hands. She just didn’t know what to do any more. Her ribs were tender from all the crying, and they hurt now as more huge, racking sobs took hold of her body. She didn’t understand what was happening. How could someone who had loved her so much, who had shared so much of his life with her, just turn his back on her like this? OK, she understood about male menopause, or midlife crises, but those excuses just weren’t enough to blot out the pain, nor were they any guarantee that he would ever come back.

So much despair engulfed her she thought she would drown in it. Her body was too small to contain it. Her fists pummelling the wheel did nothing to ease it. She reached blindly for her bag and fumbled for the phone.

‘Shelley?’ she gasped. ‘Oh God, Shell.’

‘It’s OK,’ Shelley responded. ‘You’ll be OK. Where are you?’

‘Outside their flat.’

‘I’ll come and get you.’

‘No, I’ll come to you. It’s just …’ She struggled for breath. ‘I can’t go home.’

‘I know.’

‘Here, drink this,’ Shelley said.

Allyson took the brandy. She was huddled into a blanket on the sofa facing the sluggishly flickering fire. There were only two lamps on in the room, the delicate bronze and alabaster Carder, and a reading light behind a big, comfy leather chair. Shadows from the fire danced around the walls.

‘I don’t know why I did it,’ she said. Her voice was nasal, still clogged with tears. ‘She went out, left him there alone. I could have gone in, but …’ Her voice trailed off, she didn’t really know what she wanted to say. ‘Thank God there was no press around.’

Shelley sat down on the sofa too. Her hair was pinned up, she wore no make-up, was dressed simply in a long silk bathrobe and white satin slippers. Evidence of the work she’d been doing was scattered on the floor around the leather chair.

‘So humanitarian Wednesdays is a no go,’ Allyson said, changing the subject.

Shelley’s eyes showed her regret. ‘I tried,’ she said, ‘but Stella wouldn’t buy it. She believes that ultimately people just don’t care. She’s not objecting to the occasional topical interview, you know, if something other than the normal tragedy occurs in Sudan, or a British aid worker gets killed in Bolivia. Just not a regular thing.’

Allyson nodded. ‘Doesn’t seem like much is going my way lately, does it?’

‘That’ll change.’

Allyson made a gesture of impatience. ‘I don’t understand why he wants to live in that dreadful part of town, in a flat that’s smaller and grottier than the one we had when we first met.’ She sighed and her breath shook. She stared bleakly down at her brandy. ‘I suppose it’s a measure of how much he loves her, that he’ll put up with it.’

‘It won’t take him long to get fed up,’ Shelley said. ‘He’s too fond of the high life.’

Allyson drank and sat quietly watching the fire. ‘I keep asking myself, what it is about her?’ she said after a while. ‘I know she’s young and pretty, but so are thousands of girls. So what is it about Tessa Dukes?’

‘You could ask what is it about any of us,’ Shelley said. ‘No-one’s got any idea what attracts us to the people we’re attracted to.’

‘He’s never done anything like this before,’ Allyson protested. ‘We’ve always been so close. And it wasn’t as if he wasn’t getting sex at home. So why did he need to go elsewhere? And why to her? Look,’ she continued, rummaging in her bag. ‘I’ve been cutting articles out of the paper about her. We were the ones who interviewed her, but no-one, none of us, really knows anything about her. No, I know what you’re going to say,’ she cut in, as Shelley made to interrupt, ‘it was my decision, and I accept that. I could see she’d had problems somewhere along the line and I wanted to give her the chance of a fresh start. Everyone deserves that, but God knows, if I’d thought for a minute she’d make that start with my husband …’ She took a breath. ‘I’m a fool, Shelley. I should have checked up on her more. I mean, she’s just come out of nowhere, ruining my marriage, tearing my life to pieces and turning my husband into a man I don’t even know. And now I keep asking myself, who is she, for God’s sake? How can she do this? I didn’t expect any thanks, but I certainly didn’t expect anything like this.’

Shelley’s eyes went down. Should she tell Allyson that the way she was fixating on Tessa was, in its own perverse way, normal at times like this? To turn a rival into a monster was a way of trying to derive some comfort, or of creating excuses for a rejection that was just too painful and merciless to bear. But that wasn’t what Allyson wanted to hear, what she wanted was to have her suspicions confirmed that there was something strange about Tessa, that Tessa and some deep-rooted psychological disturbance was totally responsible for what was happening to her and Bob’s lives, and that she, Allyson, must fight to save her husband before he was destroyed by this horrible phenomenon. It was all so dramatic, yet, in its own tragic way, normal. And who could say, Allyson might be right, Tessa could be suffering from some kind of psychosis, but other than becoming the object of Bob’s obsession, which had to be his problem rather than Tessa’s, as far as Shelley could make out the girl was rather boringly normal. This perhaps did beg the question what did Bob see in her, for God, and Shelley, knew how many affairs the man had had during his marriage, but not even Shelley had brought him close to leaving Allyson, and though she might be a good deal older than Tessa, she was certainly much more Bob’s type, considering his bent for social climbing …

This led her on to Allyson’s belief in his fidelity, which was an aberration that probably should be addressed, for the only astonishing part of that wasn’t that Allyson could be so naive, because most wives were, but that the press hadn’t trumpeted his serial adultery all over the front pages by now. Though Shelley had to concede they probably didn’t know about most of it, since Bob, give him his due, could be pretty discreet when he tried. But this was the British press they were talking about, terriers every one of them, so it was only a matter of time before all the dirty linen was hauled out of the cupboard. God knew, Shelley didn’t want to be the one to break it to Allyson, but it was surely going to be better coming from her, here, in the privacy of the flat that was virtually Allyson’s second home, than letting her read about it in the papers.

However, even after bracing herself with the reassurance that in the long run it was the kindest thing she could do, it was still with great trepidation that Shelley said softly into the cosy warmth that was embracing them, ‘Ally, Tessa isn’t the first.’

Allyson was about to drink, but her hand and her heart suddenly stopped. Her drink was in mid-air. But it was OK, it was like a shield, and as long as she didn’t move the words couldn’t come in, and then she wouldn’t have to worry about how to get them out.

Shelley looked at her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I wish to God I wasn’t the one to tell you, but he’s been sleeping with other women, well, for quite some time.’

Allyson remained frozen.

‘I’m sorry,’ Shelley whispered again.

Allyson leaned forward and put down her glass. Her hand was shaking, her whole life was crumbling again, but she had to let it happen, because there was no way she could stop it. ‘How do you know?’ she said.

‘I just know,’ Shelley answered.

Allyson shook her head, telling her that wasn’t good enough.

Shelley steeled herself again. ‘I was one of the women he tried … Well, let’s just say, he tried with.’

Allyson took a sharp, quick breath. But it was all right, she didn’t have to think about it, because it might not be true. Her nightmares were full of scenes like this, so there was a chance she’d wake up in a minute and none of it would be real.

Her eyes remained focused on the exquisite Night and Day clock by Lalique. After a while it felt strangely soothing, the way the two female figures, engraved so gracefully in the glass, were entwined. One dark, one light. Like her and Shelley. Brunette and blonde. Shelley had so many beautiful things, but of all of them this was the one Allyson loved the most. What she wouldn’t give to own a clock like that.

‘I always turned him down,’ Shelley said.

Allyson’s eyes left the clock. It wasn’t a dream. ‘I suppose it was why he always had such a hard time with you,’ she said. ‘His ego probably couldn’t handle the rejection.’ She turned her head and Shelley saw the tears starting to fall from her eyes. ‘But men like Bob never can handle women like you. You intimidate them because they’re weak and you’re strong. Oh God, Shelley, please tell me this is going to end.’

Shelley opened her arms and held her as she cried, smoothing her hair and feeling her tears dampen her shoulder. ‘It will,’ she promised. ‘I just wish I could tell you when.’

‘How is it possible to love someone who treats you like this?’

‘You’d be amazed how many women do. I’ve been there myself, but never again.’

‘No, never again.’ Allyson lifted her head. There was a sudden fierceness in her now. A determination to turn her words into truth. But how could she do that, without knowing how?

Shelley looked into her face and brushed back her hair. ‘You’re very special,’ she whispered.

Allyson gazed into her eyes. She was remembering how Bob had often accused Shelley of preferring women. It made sense now, if Shelley had rejected him. It was what most men fell back on when a woman was able to resist them. She’d never suspected Shelley of it herself. Why would she, when there had never been any signs of it, and when she’d been Shelley’s confidante, and shoulder, through so many of the break-ups Shelley had suffered. She’d always put Shelley’s failure with men down to them not being man enough to handle a woman like her, but maybe there was more to it than that. Maybe there was something Shelley was denying in herself, and sitting here now, so close that she could feel Shelley’s breath on her face … Her heart turned over. How deeply she loved her, her closest, truest friend. The one person in the world she knew would never let her down.

Shelley smiled and Allyson watched her lips curve. Their mouths were so close, it would be so easy to kiss her. She wanted to kiss her. She wanted Shelley to hold her and keep her safe. She wanted to expand the love they knew so it could embrace them completely.

Very slowly, very tentatively, she closed the space between them.

Shelley’s lips were warm and soft. They moved beneath hers, parting and responding.

Allyson’s eyes were open, looking at the luxuriant curl of Shelley’s lashes.

Somewhere in the distance a siren wailed and the kiss continued. Allyson closed her eyes and increased the pressure of her mouth. Then her hands were on Shelley’s shoulders, smoothing the silk, then parting it. Her breasts were large and firm, her nipples were tightly erect. Allyson smoothed her hands over them, loving their feel.

Then the kiss was over.

It was a moment before Allyson realized Shelley had ended it.

They sat there looking into each other’s eyes. The glow of the firelight turned Shelley’s skin to honey.

‘I’m going to put you to bed now,’ Shelley said.

Allyson swallowed and felt the strangeness in her head increase.

‘No, not my bed,’ Shelley said. ‘This isn’t what you want. It’s not what either of us want.’

‘But you didn’t turn me away.’

‘I am now. You needed the warmth and the intimacy, but it wouldn’t be right for either of us to go any further.’

‘I love you,’ Allyson whispered.

Shelley smiled. ‘I know. But it’s a different kind of love and you’re feeling so vulnerable right now you’re confusing it.’

Allyson turned away and Shelley covered her breasts. It was the first time she’d ever kissed a woman, but as beautiful and sensuous as she’d found it, she had no desire to do it again. She suspected, in the cold light of day, that Allyson wouldn’t want to either.