A Face To Die For (8 page)

Didn't I know Alex visited London infrequently!
Too
damned infrequently… not surprising she'd happily accepted his relationship with me. It was all very clandestine and totally unsatisfactory.

The wedding between Alex and his bride Susannah had taken place in New York during my early secret involvement with him. ‘A marriage of convenience to both families’ was how Alex had described it. Thus, just as Vanessa continued to cast a blind eye to Alex bedding me, I had been persuaded to imagine that his marriage never existed.

During my sleepless night, distressed by Alex's changed manner, I had made the momentous decision that I
had
to cool things with him. It wasn't going to be easy, nor was it what my heart really wanted, but painfully I could see no future in the relationship. Alex could never be mine. Apart from that, his intermittent involvement with me completely jeopardised my chance of ever developing a proper relationship with anyone else, one that, who knows, might be more permanent and meaningful. By continuing in this way with him I was not doing myself any favours.

Thinking this way was all very brave of me, of course. The facts were there. With the need to be always so careful he and I could never openly socialise together. It had become such a strangled sort of affair; secret trysts usually here at Vanessa’s flat, with just the occasional meal out somewhere very quiet together.

As I tossed my head around on my pillow, damp from my tears, I knew it had to end.

*

Next morning early, before Alex stirred and would probably want to make love again, I set the scene.

In the bathroom cabinet I found a half full pack of Tampax and left it opened on top of the toilet cistern. I was hopeful it would indicate to him that sex was out of the question again this morning. I
had
to be saved from being persuaded against my overnight resolve.

'You okay, honey?' Half naked, Alex wandered through to the kitchen as I was making coffee. 'Sorry. A bit too energetic last night, huh?' He kissed me on the shoulder, and I silently passed him a mug of black coffee. He lit up a Marlboro and handed me one from the pack.

I shook my head to the cigarette; I didn’t smoke all that much anyway, and quickly I turned back to the kettle. 'My period's come early, that's all. Want some toast?'

'No thanks, hon. I must get off soon. Two important meetings today. I’ll tell you all about it tonight.' He took a gulp of his coffee and disappeared off with it to shower and dress.

I also needed to get off to work promptly, and so I made the bed and prepared to leave. But watching him moving about the flat before he left, I was already hovering between two minds over my decision. I adored him so much. If
only
he was free for us to be like this permanently. If
only
he were based in London. If
only...

The idea of us never making love again hurt like hell. Oh Alex, I thought, as my inner debate raged, why don’t you just return to America without ever coming back to London again? Something like that was needed to resolve the situation for me. It was going to be agony to do it all by myself. Confused and tormented I wasn't altogether sure what I wanted any more?

*

Over lunch in a favourite little Italian bistro in Davies Street, I told Vanessa of my momentous decision to finish with Alex.

'It's going nowhere, Vanessa, and I can't tolerate being used any more... which ostensibly is

what's going on? It's ruining my life. All I ever do is hang about waiting for him, and you know as well as I do, that weeks can lapse in between. I adore him,
you
know that, but it's no good; all this secrecy. His marriage and now his child obviously come first, and let's face it that's how it should be. If he were my husband, that's what I'd expect anyway. Fat chance.'

'Well, darling, without being too blunt, you've known this all along.' Vanessa sprinkled more Parmesan onto her pasta. 'What's made you change your attitude all of a sudden? I thought it suited your lifestyle; that you were content to just be his mistress?'

I stared at her, fork poised. 'Crikey, I'd never actually thought of myself as that ... but you're right; that's what I am, aren't I? Well, not any longer! It's all or nothing. Either he makes a proper commitment, and I know that's extremely unlikely or I finish the relationship. Tonight I'll have it out with him. Anyway, I don't think he has the same feelings for me any more. Last night ...I sensed
something
,
a sort of change in him. Oh, I don't know ...'

I felt utterly depressed talking about it, but at least it had helped airing my doubts and feelings to someone.

'If only he hadn't married that drip, Susannah,' said Vanessa. 'Mummy tells me she's horrendously lazy and has put on a frightful amount of weight. Hardly ever does a thing for the baby. The nanny does it all. Drinks heavily too, and I believe Alex and she rarely sleep together.'

'Really?' I pushed my dish away; I wasn’t hungry, and reached for my coffee.

Vanessa nodded. I was surprised. Their wedding pictures had shown his wife to be slim, and petite as well as fairly attractive. But since then Alex and I had agreed never to discuss her. 'Our time's too short, honey,' he'd always insisted.

I stifled a snigger whilst stirring the froth on my cappuccino. 'In other words they aren't all that happy together then?’ I murmured. Oh my God, do I sound too exultant? But Alex has never once given me the slightest hint that things between them were quite that bad. 'Might they split up then?'

'Don't ask
me
. Ask darling Alex;
he's
the one you need to question. I'm only repeating what Mummy's told me. Talking of which, Rowley and I have finally set the date for our wedding. September the fifteenth. Also, darling, I want a
Miss Courtney
dress, if that can be arranged? I loved that wedding dress in your last collection. I’d like it in satin instead of taffeta though, and with a few other tiny modifications. Is that possible do you think?'

'No problem,’ I said reverting to business mode. ‘When you can drag yourself away from Rowley, come home to the flat and we'll work on it together.'

'Er… actually, darling, I think I'll wait a few days ... till Alex has gone back,’ she hedged. ‘Actually though, do you mind if I just pop in very quickly tonight to pick up some clothes? I'll only be a few ticks.'

'Vanessa, it
is
your flat! Come and go as you please. Don't worry about Alex and me.'

'Oh, but I do. Damn, that's something else I need to talk to you about, darling. I was going to tell you tonight. You see I'll probably have to sell the flat when we get married. So it might...'

‘
... mean I’ll have to move out,’ I finished off for her.

'Well, no, not really. Oh, I don't know. Actually last week I was on the phone to Alex and vaguely suggested to him that he might like to take over the leasehold; buy it as a love-nest for the pair of you. Hell, I'm not so sure if that was a good idea now. I mean, if Alex owns it he’ll become your landlord and you'll have to pay him rent, although I doubt he’d accept it, of course. But if you
finish
with him, it could be rather awkward. Shame. He seemed awfully keen too.'

Damn, I'd never thought about the possibility of Vanessa selling the flat - and to Alex too. Now I didn't know what to do, about Alex, or about anything. Probably best to move out altogether. Hell, it was all getting so complicated.

'Look, do me a favour please. Don't mention any more about the flat to him,' I pleaded. 'Give me a chance to talk things over with him first.'

I honestly didn't know what to think any more. Could I stand a chance with Alex after all then, especially if his marriage was foundering? If so, then I'll have to be cautious how I handle things tonight. My mind was filled with so many ifs. Despite my earlier resolve, another inner debate had now begun to rage inside me.

I left work that night, feeling extremely weary, not only from lack of sleep and my tormented mind, but because I'd also had a very frustrating afternoon with Edward.

Things were not going well with the early designs for the next
Miss Courtney
collection. He was not seeing things my way at all over the newer lines I was working on. I wanted to incorporate a much younger look, with more snappy shapes, for daywear especially. I felt the need for shorter skirts and higher waistlines, but still keeping the emphasis on good cut and tailoring.

Edward however, had completely rejected most of my sketches with the terse remark, 'Far too little girlish, Annabel.
Slightly
shorter skirts are acceptable, to a degree, but you must still keep the look chic and classic. Most of these designs aren't. It’s what Courtney customers expect.'

'But if we never take a risk once in a while by making a few changes, as many other Ready-to-Wear designer houses are doing, we'll soon be considered
old hat
,' I’d retaliated.

Edward had visibly winced as I'd ranted on.

'We'll also risk losing all our younger clientele to the newer, more adventurous houses, Edward! Mary Quant and Jean Muir are both doing a roaring trade and they're not afraid to be more innovative and daring with skirt lengths.'

He'd still refused to budge, or even compromise. I tried to persuade him that planning Ready-to-Wear was a different concept altogether from
haute couture
, but he couldn't see that one needed to keep more abreast with the times. Clearly the sixties were proving to be pretty revolutionary in so many ways.

Much was changing, especially on the fashion scene amongst the young. This in turn, I could see was echoing across into the High Street
boutiques
that were opening up all over. If only Edward could accept it. Or was he simply afraid of the possible demise of
haute couture
within a few years? Perhaps that was his problem?

Lynda was off sick, so I hadn't had her valued support to dilute the afternoon's discord. She was usually very much in agreement with me; also favouring trendier, shorter day-wear designs, and had come up with some interesting ideas herself. I'd also noticed that even
Vogue
was currently saluting several newer, independent designers. Passionately wanting to be amongst them, I was frustrated and angry; feeling like the proverbial bird with clipped wings. If only I had my
own
designing business, then I could do exactly as I wanted with no one to thwart me.

I purchased a few groceries and a bottle of wine from the little deli-food store in Davies Street; all the while desperately wishing I was going home to be on my own tonight. For once, knowing that Alex was in town was no consolation to me.

CHAPTER 6

I dumped the delicatessen bag on the sink unit and removed the ingredients intended for supper. This included some freshly minced beefsteak. Cleo, nose a-twitch, meowed loudly as she wound her sleek black body through my legs. This was about the only time she was quite so verbal or commanded such attention.

'All right, there's some for you, sweetie…' I scooped a tiny portion of the meat onto a saucer and put it down for her. With an eager chirrupy noise she darted forward to attack it. The rest I placed safely in the fridge while I took a shower.

Cleo had adopted me about a year ago when another resident in Eaton Square had departed for the Middle East. Adorable as she was, like most cats she could be quite aloof; often tucking herself away in one of the bedrooms to sleep eighty per cent of her life away. She and I were great pals though, and sometimes she'd curl up with me on the sofa whilst I read or watched TV. Alex wasn't keen on cats however, and sensing this she’d make herself pretty scarce if he was around.

Refreshed from my shower, I dressed comfortably in a pair of jeans and a cream, raw silk blouse. Mindful that the evening ahead could be tricky, and possibly even a little fraught, I put on some calming classical music, and poured myself a glass of the red wine to sip while I started dinner. I still hadn't quite made up my mind what to do about Alex.

Now that almost twenty hours had elapsed the impact of what he'd said after our lovemaking last night somehow didn't seem quite so awful any more. Chances were Alex would laugh at my prudish reaction; considering the very
un
-prudish we always made love. Probably hundreds of couples say such things to each other in the heat of passion without causing offence. I'd been stupid and naive reacting to it in the way I had.

As I recalled the other sexy things Alex had expressed to me last night; the memory of his muscular body entwined with mine, and the intensity of our lovemaking, an erotic feeling surged through me again. No, he hadn't changed towards me. I’d simply been over sensitive, that's all.