Читать книгу: «Breaking the Rules», страница 2

TWO

He had known her for only a few weeks but he trusted her, and his trust was implicit. Dax had never experienced this feeling with anyone else before, and he had quickly come to understand M was rather unusual. She was a very special person, one who had strolled into his life unexpectedly and had had a tremendous impact on him.

It was neither romantic nor sexual. Although she was beautiful, she was just not his type … too tall and dark of colouring, and also just a little too exotic to suit him. He had always had a predilection for blue-eyed blondes who were petite, and he did not mind at all if they weren’t very bright. He preferred them to be a bit dumb, actually.

M, on the other hand, was extremely intelligent, practical and straightforward. She fairly took his breath away with her blunt-ness, her incredible honesty. It seemed to him that M thought more like a man than a woman, got straight to the point in a flash. There were no holds barred: she just spat out what she had to say without any frills. Well, she had said that herself, in fact; that her elder sister believed she got right to the heart of the matter.

Dax knew where he stood with her, and he liked that. She didn’t seem to have any special agenda, except for wanting to be a model, and there was no deviousness in her. Too many people he knew played both ends against the middle, and were shifty, even double-dealing, and some even ended up being treacherous.

Now, as he watched her moving swiftly around the kitchen, preparing the soup for them, he couldn’t help thinking that she moved fluidly and rhythmically, with the lightness and grace of a dancer. Before he could stop himself he blurted out, ‘You must be a dancer, M, the way you move.’

M swung to face him, a smile lighting up her dark eyes. ‘I am a dancer, Dax, but not a professional one. I took a few lessons when I was little, and then got more interested in sports. But I do think I have the spirit and soul of a dancer … I just love it. I prefer dancing to exercising, and running ruins the hips, so I dance all the time. When I’m alone.’

She turned back to the counter top, began pouring cartons of College Inn chicken broth into a large pot, adding chicken, carrots, potatoes, onions and parsnips that she had prepared, then reached for the jar of herbs of Provence and threw a handful into the soup along with some bay leaves. ‘There, that should do it,’ she murmured, turning on the gas. ‘All I have to do now is chop a few sticks of celery,’ and she reached for this, cutting off the leaves as well as the hard nut at the other end.

‘There seems to be no limit to your talents,’ Dax said, still watching her. ‘It strikes me that you’re a good cook; certainly you look as if you know what you’re doing.’

Her cheeky grin flashed. ‘I know how to cook a few dishes but I don’t have a huge repertoire. I can almost prepare this chicken-in-the-pot with my eyes closed, and I’m even better at it since I came to New York. I always make it on Friday evening, and it lasts me all weekend.’

‘You are practical, aren’t you?’

‘I suppose so,’ she agreed, and threw the celery into the pot. ‘Do you cook?’

‘Not me, no,’ he said, and sat back in the chair, sipping the second mug of scalding hot tea she had pressed on him a short while ago.

His light grey eyes rested on her as she cleaned the counter tops, put the lid on the pot, lowered the gas, carried dirty items over to the sink. She intrigued him, and also mystified him sometimes.

Leaning against the sink, the wet sponge in her hand, M said, ‘What does Dax stand for? It’s unusual.’

‘Derek Alan Kenneth Small. That’s what it is. Ugh!’ He made a face, and explained, ‘At school the kids called me Daks, because I told them to, and when I got older and went to college, I changed the spelling. I thought Dax was more … sophisticated.’ He grinned. ‘Are we all dumb at times?’

‘I guess so. But you know, I like it. Dax, I mean. It sort of suits you, and your personality. Not to mention your blond good looks. Matinee idol looks, I might add.’

‘My mother always told me I resembled Leslie Howard.’ Placing the mug on the table he murmured, ‘If you know who he was?’

‘Do you think I’m an ignoramus, for heaven’s sake! Of course I know who he was. He played Ashley Wilkes in Gone with the Wind. And guess what, since I’m Marie Marsden, they called me M and M at school. How about that?’

Dax chuckled, and then stood up. ‘I think my clothes must be dry by now. I’d better go and get dressed. See you in a minute.’

In Dax’s absence, M set the table for supper, checked the chicken, tasted the broth, added a few extra shakes of pepper and lowered the heat under the pot. Then she went out into the little entrance foyer and down the corridor that led to Geo’s studio at the back of the old brownstone.

On the phone earlier, Geo had asked her to check that all the blinds were pulled down and also to make sure that the air conditioner was on low. When M walked into the vaulted studio she saw that the room was properly shaded and cool: the paintings stacked here and there against the walls were well protected from the daylight. She glanced at the thermostat on the wall; Geo had turned it to low earlier, but perhaps she had forgotten.

Moving forward, M stood in the centre of the floor for a moment, thinking what a perfect studio this was. There were three windows, all of them large; a skylight had been installed at one end, where a portion of the room jutted out into the back yard. No wonder Geo loved this place so much and painted so well in here. M had been captivated by Geo’s paintings when she’d first seen them, and she admired her talent. Geo had an uncanny way of capturing light on canvas and in a way only a few artists could.

M thought suddenly of an extraordinary painting, which she knew intimately since it was a family heirloom. It was a breathtaking picture by J. M. W. Turner, the great artist, who flourished in the first half of the nineteenth century. His forte had been capturing light on canvas, and nobody had ever excelled this master, and perhaps no one ever would.

M unlocked the back door, and stepped out into the yard. There was a wrought-iron seat, two chairs and a small table on the tiny flagged patio, and, beyond, a minuscule lawn and some flowering shrubs. M took a deep breath, sniffed the air. Earlier the rain had stopped and it had cooled off; the stifling heat of the afternoon was thankfully diminished. Returning to the patio, she sat down on the wrought-iron seat, thinking that this tiny verdant patch in the middle of Manhattan was like a miniature oasis that truly pleased the senses.

A moment later, a rush of sadness engulfed her as she thought of her mother’s garden in England. Closing her eyes, she saw it in her mind’s eye; saw all of its wondrous glory, walked along its winding paths. And for a few moments she was transported back to her favourite place on this earth, the place that was always in her heart, would always be embedded there, the place where she had been her happiest. Go back home, go back straight away, a small voice whispered at the back of her head. You’ve nothing to fear.

A second later M heard the sound of Dax’s feet clattering across the terracotta floor of the studio. She roused herself from her reverie and brushed a hand over her eyes, blinking back unanticipated tears that momentarily blinded her.

Dax did not appear to notice anything amiss as he came to a halt in front of her and said, ‘My clothes were dry, and I had a quick shower in Geo’s bathroom before I got dressed. I feel much better, as good as new, and my cold seems to have gone.’

‘I hope so,’ M answered, wondering whether he ought to be using Geo’s shower, and then decided she must clean it later. She didn’t want to go into a lot of explanations about Dax’s presence here this afternoon. Who knew what kind of relationship they now had?

He went on, ‘Geo’s lucky to have this back yard, even though it’s the size of a postage stamp. And the studio is awesome, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it is, and you would be really awesome if you went back to the kitchen and poured us both a glass of wine. I bought a bottle of Sancerre the other day, and it’s in the fridge. You can’t miss my bottle, it’s got a big red M on the label.’

‘At your service,’ he said, grinning, and went back into the brownstone.

Leaning back against the wrought-iron seat, M closed her eyes once more and pictured her room at home, full of her special possessions, all the things she treasured, and she mentally walked through her parents’ house, opening doors, peeking inside other rooms. Inwardly she smiled; how she loved her family home … one day she would go there again … in a year or two … when she was sure it was safe … when she knew for a certainty that no one could harm her …

‘Here I am!’ Dax exclaimed, handing her the wine glass, sitting down next to her.

‘Thanks,’ M said, and touched her glass to his. ‘Down the hatch.’

He chuckled, looked at her, and chuckled again.

‘Why are you laughing?’

‘It’s such a masculine toast. My father always says that.’

‘So?’ She gazed at him, her eyes narrowing. ‘What are you getting at?’

‘Nothing really, it just struck me that it’s a man’s toast, that’s all.’

Finally, M gave him the benefit of a wide smile. ‘I suppose I picked it up at home. Like your father, mine often uses those words, too.’

Dax took a long swallow of the wine and said, ‘I know you don’t want to hear my problems, but there’s just one thing I’d like to say … okay?’

‘Shoot,’ she responded and sipped her wine.

‘I’d like you to explain why you’re so against my going out to LA? I mean, what do you have against Hollywood?’

‘I don’t have anything against it, nor am I against you going, actually. I was just trying to point out, earlier, that moving to another city doesn’t solve problems. Not for anyone. Because the problems are inside the person … a new city won’t change a thing, Dax. Anyway, I was always led to believe that Hollywood was a bit … well, overcrowded, especially with young talent.’

‘I hear you, and you’re right, M. But I haven’t been able to get acting work here, and I do want to be an actor … I’ve been acting since I was a kid, you know. I thought I ought to go out to the Coast and give it a try, take my chances.’

‘I understand. I suppose if you don’t go you might end up regretting it one day.’

‘Does that mean I have your blessing, M?’

‘Not really. Because I do think you should try again, have a go at getting a job here. But I do understand why you want to go to the Coast.’

‘Thanks for saying that. And listen, it will remove me from the scene here. I think I’d like to make myself scarce, if only for a few months.’

M nodded, pursed her lips together, and then said softly, ‘I’ll miss you, Dax.’

He was an observant young man, and he noticed the sadness flickering in her eyes. Reaching out, he put an arm around her, pulled her closer and held her tightly against him. ‘I’ll stay in touch. And you know what, I’ll miss you too, babe, I will indeed.’ He turned her face to his and kissed her on the cheek. ‘We can call each other, text all the time.’

‘Yes, I know,’ she murmured and, putting a brave face on it, she went on, ‘I think we’d better go in. The soup must be ready by now, and I don’t want it to burn.’

‘What do you think is wrong with us, Dax?’ M asked a little later, sitting back in the chair, eyeing her friend across the kitchen table.

Frowning, he said, ‘What exactly do you mean?’ As he spoke he put down his soup spoon and, with his head on one side, threw her a quizzical look.

‘Not being able to get work. Look, you’ve been trying hard to find an acting job, and I’m striving to be a model, but no one seems interested in us, do they?’

‘True enough, but it’s more to do with the time of year than anything else, at least as far as modelling is concerned. And, let’s face it, you’ve only been in New York two months. But things are bound to pick up in the fall. As for me, I just explained why I’m seriously considering going to the West Coast. I want a change of scenery, new contacts, and I do think there are opportunities there.’

M nodded, picked up her spoon and finished the soup. For a moment her mind focused on her eldest brother, who had often taken her under his wing, and tried to guide her in many different ways. He had once said that looks and talent weren’t always quite enough, that other factors frequently came into play in a successful career. Such vital things as timing, being in the right place at the right time, and, most importantly, having Lady Luck on one’s side. Although she sometimes disagreed with her brother about certain things, she was well aware he was wise and scrupulously honest. He told it the way it was, and she trusted him.

‘Penny for your thoughts,’ Dax said, peering at her.

After a small silence, M responded, ‘I haven’t seen you act, but I’m assuming you can, and you’re certainly good looking, and you photograph well. But you’ve got to really want it – to be an actor, I mean. It’s really got to be the most important thing in your life, and you must have immense drive, discipline and determination. And total dedication. There are a lot of good-looking, talented young men out there, and you’ve just got to want it more, be better than them. If you’re going to succeed, that is.’

He leaned forward. ‘But that is the way I feel, and I am very dedicated and determined, M, honestly. I just need one break.’

‘I know that. Sometimes it’s just a question of being in the right place at the right time. And of course, there’s another vital element involved—’

‘What’s that?’ he asked, cutting in.

‘Luck. You’ve got to have Lady Luck on your side.’

He grimaced. ‘So far she hasn’t been anywhere in sight.’

‘Listen, go to Hollywood, Dax! Do it! Don’t listen to me and other nay-sayers. Take a chance, go out there and make it. I’m certainly behind you. Forget what I said about it being crowded with good-looking young talent … go and compete, and I wish you lots of luck!’ She laughed. ‘Just don’t forget me, will you? You’re the only friend I have in the whole of America.’

‘How could I ever forget you? You’re an original, M.’

THREE

M was dozing, almost asleep, when she heard the noise. It brought her up with a start, and she tensed, straining to hear. There it was again … fainter now, but nevertheless quite a distinct sound, like metal falling on a hard surface.

There was somebody in the house. Alarmed, she remained very still, her mind racing. It couldn’t be Geo. She was in New Jersey, and Annette Lazenby, who rented the small attic apartment above her, was in Afghanistan on one of her journalistic assignments.

But there was somebody down there in the entrance hall, somebody who had obviously broken into the brownstone; how they had done this she wasn’t sure. M knew she had locked the door of the studio, which led to the garden, and later, when Dax had gone home, she had definitely double-locked the front door. But the alarm system was on the blink again, and she hadn’t been able to turn it on.

Was there a window open somewhere?

She swallowed, sudden fear rushing through her, and for a split second she was totally paralysed, unable to move, wondering what to do. Then, taking a deep breath, endeavouring to steady herself, M threw back the bedclothes and slid out of bed. Quickly taking off her nightgown, she dressed in the clothes she had shed a short while before, suddenly noticing that her hands shook as she zipped up her cotton trousers.

After stepping into her loafers, she found her old Louis Vuitton shoulder bag in the cupboard, took it out, dropped in her mobile phone, wallet and door key, then slung it over her head with the strap across her chest. That was always the safest way to wear it, and especially right now. She might well get into a tussle with whomever it was downstairs.

Moving closer to the bedroom door, she stood listening for a split second; the silence was deafening. Her umbrella was hanging on the hook behind the door, and she decided to take it with her. It was the only weapon available.

Trying to be scrupulously quiet, she opened the door an inch or two and peered out. Everything was in darkness and very still; nothing moved. Summoning all of her courage, she went out into the corridor, and crept the few short steps to the head of the staircase; slowly, carefully, she began to walk down the stairs, holding on to the banister.

M was almost at the bottom of the stairs when a strong hand grabbed hold of her arm, pulled her forward. Startled and frightened, she opened her mouth and began to scream, struggling to free herself. At the same time she lifted the umbrella and began hitting the intruder over and over again.

‘Stop it! Stop it!’ Geo shouted, instantly letting go of her. ‘It’s me. Geo! Stop hitting me, M.’ As she spoke, she ran across the hall and switched on the light.

Still trembling and visibly upset, M sat down heavily on one of the stairs, gaping at the other woman. ‘My God, what on earth were you thinking about, Geo? Creeping into your own home in the dead of night, frightening me to death. I thought you were an intruder.’

‘I felt a bit distraught … I rushed back home in quite an emotional state.’ A deep sigh escaped her, and she shook her head.

M was baffled. ‘Distraught and emotional? Why? Is something wrong?’

‘I don’t know. You tell me.’

M’s dark brows drew together in a frown. ‘I don’t understand …’ Her voice trailed off and she gave Geo a curious look, genuinely puzzled.

Without saying another word, Geo stepped around M sitting on one of the stairs and flew up to the first floor, rushed into M’s bedroom, glanced around and then came back downstairs, moving more slowly.

Perceptive and bright, M knew at once what this was all about, and she said softly, ‘You thought Dax was here, didn’t you? With me. That’s what this is all about.’

Geo nodded, suddenly looking sheepish. ‘My next-door neighbour, Alice Foley, called me in New Jersey … she’s kept an eye on the house for me for years and often calls me at my sister’s. She saw Dax huddled on the steps earlier this afternoon, and then later noticed the two of you in the garden. He had his arm around you, she said, and was kissing you. I thought you were the other person he was seeing. Because he is involved with someone else. That I know.’

M was silent; she just sat staring at Geo, who was standing in the middle of the hall again. After a moment, M said, ‘He’s certainly not involved with me, and I don’t know whether he’s seeing anyone or not. All I know is that he and I are simply friends – pals. When I got home this afternoon he was on the steps, soaked to the skin and looking really ill. I brought him in, and told him to dry himself off. I did the same, and then I made us hot tea.’

‘But she saw the two of you making out in my garden,’ Geo protested.

‘No, she did not!’ M shot back swiftly, glaring at Geo, suddenly angry. ‘What your neighbour saw was Dax giving me a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. There is nothing between us except friendship and, frankly, I rather resent you suggesting otherwise. Anyway, what kind of woman do you think I am? The kind that goes sneaking around, stealing other women’s boyfriends? That’s not my style. I think you should apologize.’

Geo wore a shamefaced expression, and she slowly walked across the hall, pushing back her long blonde hair, shaking her head regretfully. ‘I’m sorry, M, really sorry. I shouldn’t have accused you, shouldn’t have paid attention to Alice. She is a bit of an old busybody, I suppose. But I’ve been perturbed about Dax and our relationship. I think he’s lost interest in me, and I really do care about him.’

‘Apology accepted, Geo. Are you in love with him? Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Yes, I am. And I thought he felt the same. Now I’m not so sure. Has he said anything to you? About me, or us?’

M shook her head, and quickly changing the subject she asked, ‘Did you knock something over when you came into the house? I heard a crash, like metal hitting a hard surface.’

Geo nodded and gestured towards the wrought-iron coat stand. ‘I walked slap-bang into that, and I reckon it woke you up, right?’

‘Yes, it did, and then I heard a fainter sound of something metallic hitting the floor. What was that?’

‘My flashlight.’ Geo began to laugh unexpectedly. ‘I’m an idiot, creeping into my own house like this, walking into the hat stand, dropping a flashlight, and wondering, somewhat worriedly I might add, if I was going to catch you and Dax in a hot clinch in your bed. And wondering how I would handle that.’

M joined in her laughter, and stood up. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’d like a cup of tea, or hot milk, or something like that. What do you fancy?’

‘To be honest, a vodka. How about you?’

‘That sounds great … it’ll help to calm me down.’

Geo glanced at her swiftly, frowning. ‘I really frightened you, didn’t I?’

‘Yes. Absolutely. I knew someone was here in the hall. I was prepared to knock him down and get out into the street.’ She patted the old Louis Vuitton shoulder bag. ‘I stuffed this with a few essentials, like my phone and wallet, as well as the door key, just in case I had to run.’

‘That was smart of you.’ Turning, Geo walked towards the kitchen, saying over her shoulder, ‘Come on, M, let’s have that drink. I think you might need it more than me. You’re as white as a sheet.’

Geo moved around the kitchen swiftly, taking a bottle of vodka out of the freezer, then filling a glass bowl with ice. As she arranged these items on a tray and went back to get a lime out of the refrigerator, her thoughts settled on M for a few moments. She liked her tenant, or ‘paying guest’ as M preferred to call herself, and she was filled with chagrin for having even considered the idea that M might be having a relationship with Dax.

How truly stupid she had been to think such a thing; even more stupid to have crept into her own house at such a late hour, expecting to find them together. She must use much better judgement in the future; certainly she must question Alice Foley more carefully whenever she called her in New Jersey. Her next-door neighbour meant well, but she had jumped to silly conclusions earlier this evening.

Taking two glasses out of the glass-fronted cabinet, Geo stole a surreptitious look at M, who was sitting at the kitchen table, lost in her own meandering thoughts and looking forlorn.

There was no question in Geo’s mind that M had been frightened to death when she had crept downstairs clutching the umbrella. The girl’s face still remained pale – was almost translucent – and apprehension lingered in those dark eyes. Poor kid, Geo thought, she has enough problems without me adding to them, scaring her when she was asleep.

Geo was a smart and intelligent young woman, and at twenty-eight she had lived life to the hilt; she’d seen enough to have certain insights into people. And she had recognized right from the start that M, full name Marie Marsden, had class, came from a good family, and had obviously had a superior upbringing. She had impeccable manners, a cultured, rather beautiful speaking voice, and refinement. Even though her few possessions were well worn, they were of the best quality. On several occasions Geo had seen her carrying different-coloured antique Kelly bags, and the old Louis Vuitton she was using tonight. They were more than likely hand-me-downs from her mother or her older sister, whom she had referred to once. Otherwise Geo knew very little about this reserved, polite young Englishwoman who had breeding and self-confidence – oodles of the latter, in fact. Not to mention looks to die for.

Georgiana Carlson, artist by profession, landlady by necessity, had never met anyone quite like her. There was something mysterious about M and Geo couldn’t help wondering, yet again, what the real story was.

Turning around, picking up the tray, Geo announced, ‘Let’s have our nightcap in the den. It’s much cosier than sitting at the kitchen table, isn’t it?’

M nodded and jumped up. ‘I’ll go ahead and put on the lights.’ Hurrying across the hall and into the den, she switched on the desk lamp, and made space on the coffee table for the tray, then dropped her shoulder bag on a chair.

The two young women sat down opposite each other; lifting the vodka bottle, Geo filled two glasses, put in ice, and added a chunk of lime to the glasses.

‘Thanks,’ M said, and gave her a faint smile as she took the drink from Geo.

Sitting back in the chair, Geo said, ‘Cheers.’

M repeated the toast and took a sip of the vodka, made a face. ‘That’s strong. Wow!’ Placing the glass on the coffee table, she stared at Geo for a long moment, and finally said, apologetically, ‘I hope I didn’t hurt you … obviously I didn’t know it was you I was bashing so hard with the umbrella.’

Geo grinned. ‘I deserved it, though. I behaved like an imbecile tonight.’ She shook her head, looking bemused. ‘Men! Honestly, they sure can drive us crazy, can’t they?’

M was silent. Her fear and anger had now subsided, but only slightly. There was still a hint of resentment lingering. That Geo believed her to be capable of duplicity was annoying. Slowly, she said in a quiet voice, ‘Well, I suppose they can get a rise out of us … although I haven’t had that experience, because I haven’t had many boyfriends. And those I have had I haven’t had to steal from another woman.’

Geo caught the hint of sarcasm, and realized at once that M continued to be somewhat miffed, and she answered swiftly, ‘Please, M, let’s get over this … I told you I was sorry, and I am. Tonight has taught me a lesson. I mustn’t jump to conclusions, and I’ll have to question Alice more diligently, should she ever call to tell me there are strange goings-on at my house.’ Geo took a sip of vodka, and asked, ‘How is Dax? I haven’t seen him for ten days.’

‘He’s got a terrible cold, and sitting on the steps here didn’t do him any good. Otherwise, he’s just the same, trying to get an acting job, or a fashion shoot. Neither of us have been lucky about finding work.’ M peered at Geo, and murmured, ‘He was waiting for you, actually. He certainly hadn’t come over here to see me.’

Geo nodded. ‘He’s left several messages on my cell phone, but I haven’t called him back yet. Unfortunately, I’ve had to make these sudden trips to New Jersey to help my sister. She lives with our Aunt Gerry, who isn’t well at the moment.’

‘I’m sorry, is it something serious?’

‘She has a heart condition, and we have to keep an eye on her. She’s in her eighties, and has nobody else; no other family but us.’

M gave Geo a sympathetic look. ‘I hope she’s going to be all right.’

‘So do I. My sister Joanne is very loving and caring, and she’s lived with our aunt for a few years now. She moved in after she was widowed. She used to be a booking agent for fashion photography, but after she lost her husband it was too much. And having something to do now, someone to care for, has really helped her to cope with her grief.’

‘I know what you mean. My sister is a widow,’ M volunteered, and could have bitten her tongue off. Why had she suddenly confided something to Geo? She didn’t want anyone to know one thing about her. Anonymity, that was her goal. Her past was blotted out. Only the future mattered.

Geo looked at M alertly, and said, ‘You never mentioned that. What did he die of?’

‘A heart attack,’ M answered laconically.

‘So did Joanne’s husband. Dick was fifty-nine when he passed. How old was your brother-in-law?’

‘Young, in his thirties,’ M muttered. Changing the subject, she went on quickly, ‘Dax isn’t seeing another woman, I’m sure of it. He’s very focused on his career. He’s got the acting bug, you must know that.’

‘Yes, I do, of course. And I have a feeling he’s hankering to leave New York, go out to the West Coast. What do you think?’

‘It’s possible – he has mentioned it, I must admit. But why don’t you tackle him about it? That’s what I would do, anyway. You and he should talk it out, have it out, clear the air between you.’

‘I think I’ll do that tomorrow. I’ll call him, go over and see him, look after him if he’s still sick. He’s awfully neglectful of his health, that I do know. Now, what about you, M? Is there anything I can do to help? I do know a few fashion photographers, and I could call them up, introduce you, and maybe they’ll see you.’

M sat up straighter in the chair and nodded. ‘That would be wonderful if you’d do that, Geo! How sweet of you to offer. Personal recommendations are the best.’

‘Consider it done,’ Geo responded. ‘I’ll get in touch with two of them on Monday. I know Hank George and Frank Farantino are in town, and let’s see how they respond. It’s certainly worth giving it a try. In my opinion, you’d be very photographable.’