Obsession (54 page)

‘Hi, there,’ said the voice at the other end. ‘Is Luke Fitzpatrick around?’

Corrie’s heart turned over, then seemed to stop beating altogether as she fell back into her chair.

‘Hello?’ the voice said again. ‘I was wanting to speak to Luke Fitzpatrick. Is he there?’

‘Cristos,’ Corrie whispered tentatively, ‘it’s Corrie Browne here. I don’t know if you remember me …’

‘Corrie!’

‘Yes.’ Her heart suddenly flooded with joy. ‘Oh, you do remember.’

‘What the fuck are you talking about? Of course I remember. What are you doing there?’

‘I work here,’ she laughed, trying to remember what it was she’d promised herself she’d say if ever he did call. But he wasn’t calling her, was he? He was calling Luke, and her heart immediately sank.

He was saying something, though Corrie couldn’t hear what since someone was shouting in her ear.

‘How are you?’ she asked him, putting a hand over Perkin’s mouth.

‘Just fine,’ he said and as his voice deepened into that sonorous intimacy she remembered only too well, her whole body seemed to turn liquid. ‘How are you?’ he asked.

‘Oh, just fine. How’s the film – movie, coming along?’

‘Yeah, great. We got accepted for Cannes.’

‘That’s good news,’ Corrie said, knowing it was inadequate but unable to think of anything else. ‘Where are you? You sound very close.’

‘In London.’

Even though she already knew that her heart still somersaulted to hear him confirm it. ‘Oh, that’s nice,’ she said.

Annalise yelled for her.

‘You got to go?’ he said.

‘I’m afraid so. Shall I put you onto Luke?’

‘No.’

There was a pause as neither of them knew quite what to say. Cristos was the one to break it. ‘Look, the reason I was calling Luke,’ he told her, ‘was to find your phone number. It was you I wanted to talk to.’

Corrie closed her eyes, not knowing if she could contain her joy it was so overwhelming. ‘But you know I work here,’ she laughed shakily.

‘I thought you weren’t there any more. Crossed wires. Anyway, I was trying to reach you ’cos I was thinking you might like to come over to Wiltshire at the weekend?’

‘With you?’ Corrie breathed, certain she was going to wake up any minute and find that this was all just a dream.

He laughed. ‘And two hundred or so others.’

Corrie laughed too. ‘Sounds irresistible. I take it you’re filming there?’

‘You got it. We leave tomorrow. So, you gonna come at the weekend?’

‘Yeah. OK.’ So much for telling him to go to hell.

‘Right. I’ll see you Friday night at the Castle Combe Manor House Hotel. That’s where we’re staying.’

‘Oh hang on,’ Corrie cried, suddenly remembering that she and Annalise were editing that weekend, ‘I don’t think I’m free. Oh damn it! Look, I’ll try …’

‘It’s OK. You’re not free, you’re not free.’

‘Cristos! I didn’t say that. What I’m saying is that if I can get there I will, but …’

‘It’s OK, I understand,’ he said. ‘You got other commitments.’

‘I’m editing, for Christ’s sake,’ she shouted, but the line had already gone dead.

Though she’d read in the papers which hotel he was staying
at
Corrie didn’t get a chance to call Cristos again until the following night. She had to explain why she might not make the weekend, she just couldn’t let him think it was because she didn’t want to see him. But when she did get through to the hotel he wasn’t in his room.

‘Would you like to leave a message?’ the operator asked her.

‘No, thanks,’ Corrie said. Then suddenly remembering Jeannie she asked if she was in the hotel.

‘Could you give a message to Cristos for me, please,’ Corrie said, when Jeannie’s voice came over the line. ‘It’s Corrie Browne here.’

‘Sure, Corrie,’ Jeannie grinned. ‘What do you want me to tell him?’

‘Just that I’m editing this weekend, which is why I can’t make it to Wiltshire. But if I can get out of it, I’ll be there – if he still wants me to come.’

‘Oh, sure, he still wants you to come,’ Jeannie laughed. ‘And that’s one message I’ll be more than happy to pass on. As a matter of fact I was gonna call you myself, see if you could change your mind.’

‘Were you?’ Corrie said, surprised.

‘Yeah. See, I thought you’d told him to go to hell, which is what I’d have done in your shoes. But seems if you did, you changed your mind.’

Corrie was laughing. ‘I was going to,’ she confessed, ‘but somehow it just didn’t come out.’

‘I’m glad. Look, let me give you the number of my mobile, call me if you can make it ’cos Cristos is kind of hard to get hold of.’

Quickly Corrie jotted down the number, and was on the point of saying goodbye when Jeannie said,

‘Before you go there’s something I think you should know, Corrie … Cristos is a great guy and I love him to death, but he isn’t too keen on being in love, get’s kind of
antsy
about it, you know? Well, you’ll get used to that … I just wanted to warn you not to take it too serious.’

Hardly able to speak through the shock, Corrie once again assured Jeannie she would try to be there at the weekend and rang off.

She was dreaming, she had to be, because Jeannie had actually said that Cristos was in love. With her! Corrie Browne! Did that mean that he’d been thinking about her all this time too? Oh, God, if only she’d known … And almost bursting with excitement she picked up the phone to ring Paula.

‘Oh Corrie,’ Paula wailed, ‘I’m sorry, can I call you back? The baby’s screaming blue murder here.’

‘I can hear,’ Corrie said, swallowing hard on her disappointment. ‘What’s the matter with her?’

‘I don’t know. But everything’s all right with you, is it?’

‘Yes, I just wanted to tell you …’ she stopped unable to hear herself as the baby’s screaming got louder.

‘What did you say?’ Paula shouted.

‘Nothing. Call me back when you can.’

Corrie hung up, and settling herself down with a glass of wine set about trying to work out just how she was going to avoid editing that weekend.

Over the next few days she tried everything short of black magic to rearrange the editing, but the schedule was such that if they didn’t do it then the programme wouldn’t be ready on time. Finally, in desperation, she confided in Annalise, and asked if she would mind doing the editing alone.

‘Sure, if you want to walk out on a programme half way through,’ Annalise replied frostily.

‘I’m not saying that,’ Corrie answered. ‘What I’m saying is …’

‘That you are unprofessional,’ Annalise interrupted.

It was on the tip of Corrie’s tongue to remind Annalise of the way she had behaved in the past, but knowing how
miserable
Annalise was she bit it back – to fight with her now would get neither of them anywhere.

‘You sure it’s Cristos Bennati you want to see, not my father?’ Annalise snapped nastily.

‘Oh Annalise,’ Corrie groaned, ‘if only you knew what you were saying.’ She was tempted to tell Annalise precisely who she was, but Annalise was in no mood to hear it. Besides, Corrie felt that Phillip should be the one to tell her.

‘I don’t think I’m interested. We start editing at nine on Saturday.’

It was later in the day that Corrie discovered the real truth behind Annalise’s inflexibility – Luke wasn’t going to be in London that weekend and Annalise didn’t want to be alone.

Siobhan was in her chair by the window, her eyes fixed on the early morning horizon. Fingers of brilliant winter sunshine streamed through the blinds striping the Spartan furniture with bands of white light and grey shadow, and Siobhan’s tender skin was blotched red across one cheek from where she’d sat so long in the sun. There was no sound in the room, there was only the monotonous and distant sough of the waves. She didn’t move as the door opened, not even to blink.

Luke walked quietly across the room, watching her, silently begging her to register just this once that he was there, but of course she didn’t.

‘Here you are, see what I’ve brought you, Siobhan,’ he said, holding up a large, square basket as he reached her. ‘Would you like to know what’s inside? Yes, to be sure you would,’ and putting the basket on the window ledge in front of her he raised the lid and reached inside. ‘See here,’ he said, lifting the two baby rabbits onto his shoulder, ‘aren’t they lovely? You did want grey ones, didn’t you?’
he
asked. ‘Like you had before? Good, I’m glad I got it right. Would you like to hold them?’

He placed the rabbits in Siobhan’s lap. Siobhan blinked, once, twice, but her eyes didn’t move from the murky horizon. Lifting her hand, Luke put it on one of the rabbits, showing her how to smooth it. Then he stood for a long time watching her, waiting for the explosion, but Siobhan merely sat gazing into space, mechanically running a hand over the rabbit’s fur. It was more than evident from the vacant look on her face that she had no idea what they were.

Luke closed his eyes as blinding anger and frustration seared through his head. He turned away, trying to control himself, but this time he knew he couldn’t. Memories were dancing before his eyes, the hideous nightmare images of the bastard, of all that had happened … The pain, the degradation; the terror, the screams … He pressed his hands to his ears, as though to keep in the terrible rage, but it was bursting from every orifice of his body. The sound of his own voice crashed over him like roaring waves in a storm, sending him into the nightmare of his past.

The door behind him opened, but pushing his way through he ran from the room, fled from the incubus closing its monstrous jaws around him … He ran and ran until there was no breath in his body, until his legs buckled with the pain, until he could see nothing more than the star-spangled sparks of exhaustion. Then, and only then, did he let Corrie into his mind, moaning helplessly as he felt the thought of her start to soothe him. But as he fell to the floor clasping his chest, blazing like a fire, the bastard was waiting for him. The bastard wrenched her from him, turned her away and then the bastard pressed his grinning face right into his mind. Recoiling savagely Luke tore at his head as though to pluck out the vile image. But the bastard’s face stayed, distorting with laughter, twisting
with
glee, and then the bastard’s eyes began to gleam with lust.

‘No! No!’ Luke roared, covering his head with his arms … But there was no escape. The bastard was still there, triumphantly tearing the rabbits limb from limb, letting the blood wash over his hands … And then, with deranged laughter bubbling from his throat, he took her … The bastard took his Siobhan, right there inside his head …

– 22 –

IT WAS NOW
approaching four on Saturday afternoon and Corrie and Annalise had, as yet, only managed to get seven and a half minutes of programme time edited. At this rate, Corrie knew, they didn’t stand a hope in hell of getting away until ten at the very earliest and even then, catching the last train to the West Country was out of the question – women just couldn’t travel alone late at night anymore.

The reason they were so behind with their schedule was because Annalise was being deliberately difficult to ensure that Corrie’s weekend was spoiled. And Annalise’s guilt at what she was doing wasn’t helping too much either, since she continually snapped at Corrie, as though it were Corrie’s fault she was behaving like this. All day long Corrie had bitten hard on her tongue, but an hour or so ago she had found herself starting to snap back, since it was then that she had finally admitted defeat and called Jeannie to say she wouldn’t be able to make it down to Wiltshire. And, because she was so furious with Annalise for being so childish and selfish, Corrie had told Jeannie exactly why she couldn’t make it.

‘But there’s nothing I can do,’ she’d added, ‘she’s the producer. But you will explain to Cristos won’t you, and
make
sure he knows that it isn’t because I don’t want to come?’

Jeannie had assured Corrie she’d do just that, and when Corrie had left the deserted production office to return to the semi-darkness of the edit suite she had found Annalise and the editor sitting there chatting with a bank of frozen images on the monitors in front of them.

‘Oh,’ Annalise said sarcastically, as Corrie walked in through the door, ‘nice of you to join us, and we’re so sorry if this is getting in the way of your love life, but we need the tape with the Bradshaw interview on it.’

Corrie had given the tape to Annalise first thing that morning, and Annalise knew it. Now, obviously, Annalise had hidden it in order to hold up proceedings further. Corrie found the tape eventually in the bottom of her own bag, and handing it to Annalise said,

‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go into my bag again without my permission.’

‘Oh, so clever!’ Annalise sneered. ‘Blame me for everything, why don’t you?’

‘Yes, I will,’ Corrie said, ‘and I hope you’re getting some pleasure out of this because if you’re not your entire effort is being wasted,’ and sitting down she turned to Colin and asked if he was ready to start again. Annalise was eyeing Corrie nastily, not quite sure whether or not she’d understood that remark, but as Colin was spooling through the Bradshaw tape she turned back to the monitors.

At five thirty Annalise suddenly announced that they
might
break for an hour at seven. Corrie glared at her furiously, knowing only too well that the reason even for taking a break at all, never mind such a long one, was so that Annalise could drive over to Luke’s – if he was back. This, Corrie decided, was just going too far, and she was on the point of really laying into Annalise when the telephone rang. Fixing Annalise with a viciously daggered look Corrie snatched up the receiver.

‘Hello!’ she barked.

‘Oh my, someone sure sounds ticked,’ Cristos laughed.

On hearing that wonderful velvety voice Corrie immediately felt her tension start to ebb, and turning away from Annalise and Colin, said softly, ‘Hi, how are you?’

‘Just fine. How you doing with your difficult producer?’

‘Not too well right at the moment,’ Corrie smiled. ‘I take it Jeannie explained?’