– 7 –

‘. . . and when I got back, they were gone. Both of them. There wasn’t even a note.’ Realising that she was gabbling, Marian took a deep breath and cast a look at Matthew. ‘Anyway, you don’t want to hear about that,’ she said. ‘It’s just that, being on my own, money started to get low again, and when Janey offered me two hundred pounds as a deposit I had to take it.’ She dabbed at her eyes and waited. It was the first time since Madeleine and Paul had left that she had actually talked to someone about it. But why him, she was asking herself, when he so obviously isn’t interested? She felt a sudden longing for Paul, and was again overwhelmed by the bleakness of her situation. ‘How could they have walked out on me like that?’ she whispered. Then realising she had spoken aloud, she turned her head away, embarrassed.

Matthew watched her, ashamed of what he was thinking. She looked so awful that he could easily have walked out on her himself. Besides, he’d had a nightmare of a week, which was why he hadn’t got to see her until tonight. Even then he would have avoided it but for the fact that the music was driving him crazy.

‘Can’t you ask her to turn it down?’ he said lamely.

‘Don’t you think I’ve tried that? She just laughs.’

‘Then kick her out.’

‘She won’t go.’

He sighed, and got up to answer the phone. He wouldn’t be having to bother with this at all if the film wasn’t overrunning. But now, thanks to a massive continuity error which had involved the recall of three frigates to the Bristol Channel, coupled with an alcoholic stupor which had seen his star in bed, in the bar, in the river even – anywhere except in front of the camera – he was stuck here for at least another week.

It was Woody on the phone. Matthew waited until he’d finished, then said: ‘Woody, I don’t give a . . .’ He winced as Marian blew her nose, then started again. ‘Woody, you sort it out. It’s what you’re paid for. I know, I know. But I’m not coming down there again tonight. Just make sure she’s on that set at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.’ He listened, then groaned. ‘Why, Woody, did no one check the tide times before? Then you’d better be the one to explain to Richard Collins why we’ve lost yet another half day shoot.’ With that, he slammed down the receiver.

Marian dragged herself to her feet. ‘I’m sorry. You’re busy . . . I’d better be going . . . At least you know now why . . .’

‘Sit down!’ Matthew barked. As he turned round, he almost burst out laughing at the look of horror on Marian’s face. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s just that things aren’t going too well at the moment. Now, you were saying.’

‘I’d finished, actually.’

‘Oh.’

There was an awkward silence.

Marian sniffed. ‘About Paul. I don’t suppose you saw him before he left, by any chance?’

‘No.’

‘Or Madeleine?’

Matthew shook his head. ‘Don’t you have any idea where they might have gone?’

Her eyes followed him as he sat down. ‘You’re assuming they’ve gone somewhere together, and I honestly don’t think . . . Well, I can’t imagine they’d have . . . They did go off together, didn’t they? You saw them. You can tell me, I won’t cause a scene, I promise.’

‘No, I didn’t see them. But I’d say it’s pretty obvious they’ve gone together. I mean, it’s a bit too much of a coincidence otherwise.’

Marian’s mouth started to tremble. ‘Oh God, this is so awful. I’m sorry, but I don’t seem to be able to stop crying these days.’

Saved by the doorbell, Matthew shot from his seat and closed the door behind him.

‘Hello, Matthew.’ It was Stephanie. His eyes widened, then after glancing over his shoulder, he looked at her again. ‘Are you just going to stand there gawping, or can I come in?’ she said.

It was rare for Matthew to find himself at a loss, but for the moment he very definitely was. Since he’d last seen Stephanie he had thought about her a great deal, and what he’d been thinking had unsettled him more than he liked to admit. The truth was, he wanted to see her again as much as he wanted to do the film – but with a love-torn teenager sitting in his flat, and knowing Stephanie as he did, this was hardly the moment.

‘If it’s inconvenient I can always go away and come back again,’ Stephanie said in a tight voice.

‘No, no. Come in,’ he said, and throwing the door wide and himself into the lap of the gods, he stood back to let her pass.

As they walked into the room Marian looked up. Her face was like a battlefield. Stephanie stopped in her tracks, then turned to Matthew; his eyes closed.

‘Obviously, I’m interrupting,’ she said, her voice coated with sarcasm. ‘So if you don’t mind . . .’

‘Stephanie, will you . . .’ He stopped himself in the nick of time. He was going to say look at her. ‘Will you just listen?’

‘No, thank you. I don’t know what goes on in your life these days, Matthew, but if you ask me, you get a kick out of screwing up women’s lives.’

‘Hold it right there!’ He grabbed her arm and spun her back to face Marian. ‘Stephanie, this is Marian. Marian, this is Stephanie. Now Marian, perhaps you would like to explain to Stephanie exactly why you are here, and I’ll go make us all a large drink.’ He pushed Stephanie into a chair and escaped into the kitchen.

He gave them a full ten minutes, by which time he’d managed to run through every conceivable reason why Stephanie should have arrived unannounced like that. In the end he gave up. She would have to tell him herself, once he’d managed to get rid of the girl from upstairs.

‘I just wish they hadn’t gone off without saying a word,’ Marian was saying when he walked back into the room. ‘What do you think I should do? How can I find them?’

‘I shouldn’t think they want to be found,’ Matthew answered. ‘If they did, they’d have called you by now.’

‘Matthew!’ Stephanie was glaring at him. He rolled his eyes and handed her a drink. ‘For God’s sake, have some heart,’ she hissed as she took it. ‘Can’t you see how distressed the girl is?’

His mouth twitched with amusement as Stephanie turned her attention back to Marian. ‘I think we’d better deal with the most immediate problem first,’ she said. ‘That is, how to get this Janey out of your flat.’

Matthew looked at her with unrestrained enthusiasm. ‘Absolutely,’ he agreed.

‘You can deal with that, Matthew.’

‘I can?’

‘Well, you’re a man. The girl might listen to you. If she doesn’t, just pick up her things and dump them outside.’

‘And what about the landlord? Why can’t he do it?’

‘Because it’ll take far too long. No, you deal with the noisy tenant. Give her her two hundred pounds back – don’t look at me like that, you can afford it; give her the money and send her on her way. I’ll deal with the rest.’

‘Oh.’ He folded his arms. ‘I can’t wait to see how much this little rescue mission is going to cost you.’

Stephanie shot him a look and turned back to Marian. ‘You say you haven’t got a job. Well, as it happens I’m in need of a secretary.’

‘You’ve got one!’

Ignoring Matthew, Stephanie continued, ‘Can you type?’ Marian was stunned. ‘Well, can you?’ Marian nodded. ‘Shorthand?’ Again Marian nodded. ‘Good, that’s that settled. The salary’s fifteen thousand plus overtime and expenses. You can pay Matthew back as soon as you’re on your feet. I’ll give you a trial run of six weeks. If you’re not up to it, or you decide you don’t like me or the film world, then we’ll call it quits. How does that sound?’

‘Film world?’ Marian gasped, and then it dawned on her where she had seen Stephanie before. ‘You’re – you’re Stephanie Ryder, aren’t you?’ she said, suddenly overwhelmed by the company she was in.

‘She most certainly is,’ Matthew grinned.

Again Stephanie threw him a look before continuing. ‘It’ll mean moving to London, of course,’ she said. ‘How would you feel about that?’

Marian looked from one to the other of them, aghast that she should be sitting here, pouring her heart out to people like this. But then Stephanie smiled, and she felt a peculiar sensation stir in her heart.

‘Excuse me,’ she said, choking, and before she could disgrace herself any further, she ran from the room.

As she sat on the edge of the bath, her arms clasped tightly about her body, she tried to sort her thoughts into a coherent pattern, but on a shelf above the basin Matthew’s razor seemed to mock her with a cruel reminder of all she had lost, and the tears she tried to force back scalded her eyes. Five weeks they’d been gone, and as each day passed she felt herself shrinking back into the person she’d thought never to be again. But now it was worse. She had never felt so alone, and never so afraid. Their treachery tore at her with talons so vicious that she cried out with the pain. Her sense of worth was gone; she loathed herself with all the passion that had once fuelled her love for Paul. They’d never come back, in her heart she knew it, but still she couldn’t reconcile herself to leaving the flat where she had once been so happy.

After a while there was a knock on the door and Stephanie came in. ‘How are you feeling now?’ she asked.

Marian had to swallow hard before she could answer, but even then her voice was hoarse. ‘Better, thank you. I’m sorry, I’m making such a fool of myself.’

Stephanie sat down next to her and put an arm round her shoulders. ‘We’ve all been there,’ she said, ‘but there’s only one way out of it, and that’s to try to get on with your life.’

Marian nodded. ‘I’m trying,’ she smiled, ‘it’s just that sometimes . . .’

‘I know,’ Stephanie said, hugging her. ‘But if you’ll come to London it’ll help, I promise you. Here, you’re surrounded by all sorts of reminders of the past, and it’ll be almost impossible to forget. And you must put it behind you. It hurts to hear that, I know, but believe me, it’s the only way. And you’re young, you’ll fall in love again.’ When Marian turned to look at her, she laughed. ‘I know, you don’t want to. Neither did I.’

‘But did you?’ Marian asked.

Stephanie breathed in deeply. ‘When I was your age, yes. I still remember when the first man I ever slept with dumped me; I thought the end of the world had come. I take it Paul was your first boyfriend?’

Marian nodded. ‘But we never actually . . .’ She looked down at her hands and whispered, ‘I’m still a virgin.’

‘Oh, my darling,’ Stephanie said, ‘you don’t know how glad you’ll be of that one day. I know you love him now, but try to see him for what he really is. I mean, if he could do what he did to you, just think what he might do to Madeleine.’

‘Yes. But I don’t want Maddy to suffer like this. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.’

‘Then she’s a very lucky girl to have someone who loves her so much. Now, how about putting on a brave face and coming out for dinner with Matthew and me?’

‘Oh no! I mean, it’s very kind of you but I couldn’t.’

‘Oh yes, you could. After all, if you decide to take the job I’ve offered you, the three of us are going to be working on Disappearance together, so it’ll give us a chance to get to know one another a little.’ She stood up, and pulled Marian to her feet. ‘Pop upstairs and clean up if you like, we’ll leave in fifteen minutes. And Marian,’ she said as Marian was walking through the door, ‘things have a habit of working out in the end, you know. It just takes time.’

‘You’re an amazing woman, do you know that?’ Matthew said, as he and Stephanie waited to hear Marian’s door close upstairs. Stephanie gave him a smug grin and followed him into the flat. ‘Nightcap?’ he offered.

‘Just coffee.’

She leaned against the kitchen door, patiently listening as he objected to Marian’s over-indulgence of grief in – of all places! – a restaurant. The expression of distaste was punctuated by the clattering of crockery and three trips to the fridge, where he opened and closed the door without taking anything out.

‘Milk,’ Stephanie said eventually. ‘I’d hazard a guess you’re looking for the milk.’

‘Thank you,’ he muttered, not without irony. ‘Anyway, as I was saying, she’s a nice enough kid, reminds me of my daughter in a way. Not so pretty as Samantha, of course, but then Samantha takes after her father.’ He grinned, waiting for her reaction, but she only lifted her eyebrows. ‘But you didn’t have to offer the girl a job. Or my money!’

‘Don’t be stingy. And I offered her the job because I really do need a secretary. Tanya’s leaving at the end of the month, and quite frankly I don’t fancy taking on one of those bright young things that parade about Soho – they frighten me with their widow’s weeds and ghoulish make-up. Marian could be just what I’m looking for – and her lack of sophistication will be a refreshing change for us all.’

‘Lack of sophistication?’ he laughed. ‘I didn’t know it was possible to be so green in this day and age. If you ask me . . .’

‘Which no one did . . .’

‘. . . the girl adds a whole new dimension to the meaning of gullibility.’ He picked up the tray and she followed him into the sitting-room. As he poured the coffee Stephanie kicked off her shoes and curled up in a corner of the sofa.

Until then they’d spent the best part of the evening concentrating on Marian and her predicament; Stephanie had found it rather endearing, the way Marian livened up when she’d considered what Madeleine would say if she knew she was going to be moving to London. Matthew had swallowed his irritation and tried several times to manoeuvre the conversation round to Disappearance. He hadn’t had much success, except to talk about what Marian’s role would be. Then came the question of where she would live. For one alarming moment he thought Stephanie was going to suggest Marian moved in with him. His glass had hit the table and he’d already drawn breath to protest before he realised that Stephanie was quite expertly sending him up. Now it seemed that for the time being Marian was going to take up residence in Stephanie’s spare room. At that point Matthew had thrown up his hands – what wasn’t Stephanie prepared to do for this girl?

‘A degree in philosophy, who’d have thought it of her?’ Stephanie mused.

‘Me, for one. It’s just the sort of useless thing kids go for these days. Well, it hasn’t got her very far, has it?’ he added in response to Stephanie’s look.

‘I wonder what did happen to that boyfriend and cousin of hers?’ she said. ‘Still, not our problem. If you ask me, she’s better off without them. They sound a very dubious pair, don’t you think?’ She looked up. He was standing over her and her heart kicked against her ribs when she saw the lambency in his eyes. ‘Are you going to stand there all night, holding that cup of coffee?’ she said awkwardly.

The corner of his mouth dropped in a grin as he relaxed onto the sofa beside her and put his cup on the table.

‘Now tell me how pleased you are to be doing Disappearance,’ she said.

‘How would a bit of obeisance do you?’

‘Oh yes. I could go for that.’

He made a noise that said ‘fat chance’, and she laughed.

‘What made up your mind?’ he asked. ‘I mean, about me. And how come the visit? Not that I’m not honoured, of course.’

‘I wanted to tell you in person,’ she answered, avoiding the first question, ‘so we could celebrate together. And I thought it would give us a chance to catch up, bury the hatchet, or whatever it is we need to do.’

‘So you invite Marian Doolittle to join us?’

‘Don’t be unkind. She was unhappy and frightened, surely even you could see that. And in case you’d forgotten, I’ve been there myself.’

His eyes shot to hers, held them for a moment, and then he shook his head, laughing. ‘God, I’m slow. It’s the broken hearts club, isn’t it? That’s why you’re doing all this for her. And I suppose that I, as a distinguished member of the offending sex, have to be grateful I’m home in one piece.’

‘What do you mean, Matthew?’

‘Oh, nothing,’ he answered lazily. ‘But perhaps we should change the subject before I start choking on my own foot.’

Stephanie sipped her coffee. She still felt trapped, even though he’d given her a way out. But the lid of their own Pandora’s box was open now, and despite the fear of going on, there was nothing she could do to stop the words that were clamouring for escape. ‘I’ve done a lot of thinking since we last met,’ she said finally. She hoped he might help by asking what her thoughts had been about, but he didn’t. ‘I did and said a lot of things on that last night – things I’m so ashamed of now that I don’t know where to begin to . . .’

‘Don’t,’ he said. And when she turned to look at him, ‘It’s in the past, Steph.’

‘But we have to talk about it. If we’re going to work together we can’t pretend that nothing happened. And I want to tell you how awful I felt about everything I said, the way I behaved. I knew, even as I was saying it, that I shouldn’t be talking about Samantha like that. But God, Matthew, I was so desperate I hardly knew what I was saying.’

‘I know that. And I’m the one to blame, Stephanie, not you.’

She gave a dry laugh. ‘Oh, I blamed you all right. You’d promised me so much, I’d built my whole life round it – so that when you went, you took everything. Everything. And then, after you’d told me there couldn’t be any future for us, you never called again, you didn’t even write, not even to answer my letters. God, I hated you then.’

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, looking down at the floor. ‘I had to do it that way, Steph. I didn’t know any other. It was touch and go whether Samantha would live, and Kathleen was on my back with threats every minute of the day. I won’t go into all the guilt I suffered, but it was as much because of what I’d done to you as it was because of them.’ He turned to face her. ‘The letter you sent, the one you put in my birthday card?’ She nodded. ‘I don’t think I realised quite how much I loved you until then. Leaving you was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done.’

She sighed and half laughed. ‘I wish I’d known, it might have made things easer – does that sound dreadful? But I needed a reaction from you, something that told me I had mattered, even if I didn’t any more. That was the worst part of it, really – not knowing how you were feeling.’

He took her hand and locked his fingers through hers. ‘I’m sorry.’

She looked at their hands and felt the stirrings of an almost forgotten warmth. It was a long time since she had allowed herself to remember that dreadful sense of meaninglessness and confusion she’d felt when he had gone. Eventually she’d managed to fill the void – or thought she had, until the other day. Abruptly she drew her hand away. ‘Listen to us,’ she laughed. ‘And you accused Marian of over-indulging.’

‘Oh no, not her again,’ he groaned, then ducked as she made to hit him.

They were both sorry the moment was broken, knowing there was still a great deal to be said, but Stephanie changed the subject to Disappearance and he followed her lead. They discussed who might be suitable for the role of Olivia Hastings; how long they would need to shoot in New York; when would be the best time to go to Italy; and, inevitably they speculated on what had really happened to Olivia. All the time they talked, the old wounds and long-stifled feelings were unfurling, snatching their smiles, tugging at their hearts, until emotions were running amok inside them like dormant imps given a new lease on life.

‘Are you going to tell me,’ he asked, swallowing what he really wanted to say, ‘what the new evidence is concerning Olivia?’

‘I wondered when you were going to ask,’ she answered, looking at her watch. ‘You can read the note when you come to London. It was sent about a year ago, to Frank Hastings.’

His mind was racing. He knew she was on the point of leaving, but he didn’t want her to go yet. ‘When do I get to meet him?’

‘We’ll go over to New York in a couple of months. Probably when this film you’re doing now is at the dub stage.’ She wanted to ask him more about the film, anything to prolong her stay, but at the same time she needed to be alone – to think.

‘At the dub stage?’ he repeated. ‘Could be tricky.’

‘We’ll work something out.’ She looked at him, and he didn’t look away.

‘And what about us, Steph?’ he asked eventually. ‘Will we work something out for us?’

She tensed, and when she spoke her voice was hoarse. ‘You said once that there couldn’t be any us.’

‘I was wrong.’

‘Were you?’

‘Stephanie, you’re the only woman I’ve ever . . .’

‘No, don’t.’

He pulled her round to face him. ‘You can’t run away from it, Stephanie.’

‘No! What I can’t do is go through it all again,’ she said angrily. ‘No, please don’t touch me. It’s too soon, Matthew. No Matthew, please . . .’ She sobbed as his mouth closed over hers.

When he let her go she was shaking, and he smiled at the confusion in her eyes.

‘Please don’t smile at me like that,’ she said.

‘I’m sorry. I don’t know any other way.’

She turned her head away. ‘Oh God, Matthew, if only you knew how often I’ve dreamt about that smile, about this, about the way you . . .’

‘The way I what?’ he chuckled.

She pushed him away. ‘I’m not ready for this, Matthew. I’m . . . it’s come as a shock, seeing you after all this time and finding out that . . .’

‘A shock? But you admitted yourself that you’d bought the rights to the book because you knew I’d want to do it. Surely you must have known then . . .’

‘No! You’re wrong! I didn’t know anything then. Except that maybe I could hold it in your face and then snatch it away.’

‘Revenge?’

She nodded.

‘Why didn’t you do it?’ He waited. ‘Because . . .?’

‘Because my feelings for you haven’t changed!’ she shouted. ‘Is that what you want to hear? Well, it’s true, they haven’t. Seeing you again has been just about the worst thing I could have done. For Christ’s sake, why do you always have this effect on me? I don’t even know what I’m saying!’

‘Why are you getting so angry?’

She leapt to her feet, kicking around for her shoes. ‘Oh, it’s all so easy for you, isn’t it? You haven’t suffered the way I have these past six years. And now you tell me you’ve left your wife and expect me to come running. Well, I’m not going to, Matthew. I’m telling you, I’m not!’

‘OK, OK.’ He was laughing and holding up his hands in defence.

‘Please don’t laugh at me, I feel undignified enough as it is.’ She picked up her handbag. ‘Now, if we are to work together, I think it’s better that we never refer to our past again. This is to be a purely professional relationship, and I’d like you to respect me as a producer, as I shall obviously respect you as a director. Are we agreed?’ By this time she was at the door, but turned back when he didn’t answer. ‘I said, are we agreed?’

He tugged a forelock of his black hair. ‘If that’s what you want, Stephanie, then agreed. Purely professional.’

‘Good. Please call me when you’re back in London; by that time Bronwen, my partner, will be anxious to see you. I take it you’ll want Woody as a first and Bob Fairley lighting?’

He nodded.

‘Goodnight, then. I hope you can sleep through that terrible din,’ she said, referring to the music that had just set the ceiling shaking. Then she left, hating him for agreeing to her conditions, but hating herself even more for behaving in the way she had.

As she sat at the upstairs window, watching Stephanie drive away, Marian could feel fate creeping up on her, and she wrapped her arms more tightly round her body, as if resisting it. Now that the initial excitement of meeting Stephanie and having her life taken in charge had worn off, she was again being sucked into a vacuum of loneliness. Everything she’d done in her life had been done with Madeleine, and it panicked her to think that in a few weeks she was going to embark on a new life without her.

But she would do it, if for no other reason than that she could no longer bear to look in the mirror and see herself shrivelling inside a cowardly shell of defeat. Because she missed them so much, because without them there seemed no purpose to her life, she had become ugly again, her hair was lank and the very pores of her skin seemed to close in the misery. But for a while, for a few short months, she had been alive, vibrant and happy – there had been no cowardice, no weakness, because Paul had loved her and . . .

Her breath caught in her throat, and as she turned from the window and walked slowly towards the bed, tears ran silently down her face. ‘Where are you?’ she whispered into the darkness. ‘Paul, Maddy, where are you?’