Dark Secret (5 page)

‘Do people write more than once?’ asked Harriet.

‘Darling, sometimes they write every week,’ laughed Rowena. ‘The only difference then is that we call them cranks, not fans, and bin the letters.’

‘Haven’t you ever had a crush on a film star?’ asked Lewis.

Harriet shook her head. ‘I’m not very well up on films, or plays for that matter. I like museums, art galleries and antique shops, but not acting.’

‘You’ll be good for us then. We’re usually surrounded by people bitten by the acting bug.’ He looked thoughtfully at her. ‘I imagine you’re too sensible to let your heart get the better of your head in any situation.’

He made the remark sound like an insult. ‘I prefer to keep my emotions hidden,’ said Harriet coolly. ‘Now, perhaps there are some things I could do for you, Miss Farmer.’

‘Please, not Miss Farmer,’ laughed Rowena, suddenly relaxed and friendly again. ‘You must always call me Rowena. I’m sure we’re going to be friends.’

Harriet wasn’t sure about anything any more, except for the fact that watching Lewis’s hands stray over Rowena’s arm and neck had been highly unsettling and left her face feeling hot. ‘I’m sorry, Rowena it is. What would you like me to do?’

‘The fan mail then, if you’re desperate to start earning your keep. Lewis, be an angel and show her the room where she’ll be working. I simply must have another cup of coffee.’

‘Sure.’ Lewis put his own mug down and led Harriet up the open staircase and through a door on the first floor. ‘We’ve earmarked this for your office. The computer, telephone and fax machine are all in place, but although we’ve got the filing cabinets in I’m afraid none of Rowena’s correspondence has been put away. We thought you’d like to use your own system.’

Harriet stared about the room. It was light and airy, the furniture all solid mahogany and the walls covered in heavy patterned wallpaper. ‘It’s certainly big enough!’ she said with a smile.

‘All the rooms are large. This seemed the best because Rowena has a room through the adjoining door there where she goes to learn her lines, try on clothes, experiment with make-up – that kind of thing. It means you’ll be near when she might need you.’

‘Fine. So where are the fan letters?’ asked Harriet, standing facing the desk and looking over the piles of papers set out on it.

Lewis came up behind her and she felt his body brush against her back as he reached over her shoulder. ‘I think they’re there,’ he said quietly.

Harriet straightened slightly and her buttocks and thighs pressed up against him. She half-turned in order to move away but her arm caught the pile of papers at the end of the desk and it went flying. As she bent down to pick them up, Lewis bent as well and their hands met as they reached in unison for one of the letters.

Again, just as at their first meeting, Lewis’s fingers seemed to linger on hers. This time the pads of his fingertips brushed along the tops of her fingers and she shivered suddenly. Slowly her stood up, letting his hand trail up her arm and over her shoulder before removing it.

‘I’ll leave you to sort them out then,’ he said calmly.

Harriet nodded, her mouth so dry she wasn’t sure she’d be able to speak. It had been deliberate, she was certain of that; his touch, the way his body had moved against hers had indicated that. Yet in his eyes and voice there was no sign of interest or desire. Perhaps he was just very tactile, she told herself as he left the room.

After leaving Harriet, Lewis went in search of Rowena. He found her sitting on the tiles by the side of the large, heated indoor pool, her arms wrapped round her knees. For a moment he looked down at her thoughtfully, well aware of the kind of thoughts that must be going through
her head at the moment, then he pulled one of the loungers forward and sat down on it.

‘As I thought, she’s perfect,’ he said casually.

Rowena turned to look at him. ‘I didn’t expect Chris to be so impressed,’ she said miserably.

‘Of course he was impressed. I knew he would be; that was one of the main considerations in choosing her. That and her youth,’ he added thoughtfully.

Rowena flushed. ‘Chris is older than I am.’ Her tone was defensive.

‘Only by eighteen months! In any case, the older men get, the younger the women they desire.’

‘Stop doing this!’ shouted Rowena, standing up and glaring down at him. ‘You of all people know how much I worry about my age. I expect Chris to be cruel, but not you.’

‘Then why do you love Chris more?’ asked Lewis softly.

The anger faded from Rowena’s eyes and a look of despair filled them. ‘I don’t know! I wish I did. I wish I could tear myself away from him, but I can’t. He’s like a drug. Even when I think I’m getting free he draws me back.’

‘Which is precisely why we’re making this film, remember?’

‘I don’t think I can go through with it.’

Lewis frowned. ‘Nonsense. In any case, you have no choice. No one else is anxious to put you in a film. I’m your only hope.’

‘But why this film, this story?’

He sighed. They’d been over it so many times and still she seemed unable, or unwilling, to understand. ‘Rowena, I’ve never done fiction
before. My films have all had social messages, or exposed corruption. When this idea was put to me I didn’t want to do it either. I was afraid, just as you’re afraid now. But then I realised how perfect it was for us. A film about a brother and sister whose sexual relationship began when they were in their teens and refused to die. A man who marries the sister, knowing all about the relationship but thinking he can take her away from her brother, only to find that he can’t. It’s
our
story, it isn’t fiction; it’s our problem and if it’s our problem it’s other people’s problem too. No one knows because it isn’t something people talk about. AIDS yes, or drug addiction or alcoholism, but not sibling incest. This might help people, but more importantly it might help us.’

She stared at him. ‘There was no other woman in that original idea you were sent.’

Lewis smiled. ‘But it needed a catalyst. Someone who would force all the others to reassess their lives, make decisions instead of letting the situation drift. Once I’d thought of that I knew it could be a special film; all I needed to do was see the drama played out for real first, to make sure that I got it right. That’s why the scriptwriters are here in England. I’ll have regular meetings with them, tell them what direction the story takes every step of the way. We
are
the film, Rowena, and then when it’s over you’ll star in the screen version and you’ll have all your emotional recall to use. Believe me, with the film done this way you could end up with an Oscar.’

As he’d known it would the very word made Rowena’s eyes brighten, but then she frowned again. ‘What if I don’t like the ending?’

He tried hard to keep any hint of irritation out of his voice. ‘It doesn’t matter if you like it or not; it will be truthful, and that’s what I want, a truthful film about a forbidden subject.’

Rowena ran her hands through her hair, sweeping it back behind her ears, and turned towards the pool again, revealing her famously perfect profile. ‘You’re using me,’ she said sullenly. ‘I don’t believe you love me or you wouldn’t do this.’

‘If you loved me, you’d leave your half-brother,’ Lewis’s voice was soft, but she could hear the annoyance beneath.

‘Perhaps if I’d felt safer with you I would have left him,’ she responded.

Lewis stood up, unable to control his temper any longer. ‘If you remember, Rowena, it was you who came to me in hysterical tears begging me to help you. I’ve never interfered, never tried to come between you and Chris. I knew about him when we married and I accepted him. All the dramas, all the weeping and wailing have come from you. And not only do you claim you want to be rid of him, you also want “to be a proper actress”. Well, for your information real acting hurts. You have to put yourself through a hell of a lot of emotional pain if you’re going to pull off a part like this. I warned you before we began, but you said it was what you wanted. I’m afraid there’s too much money involved for you to pull out now.’

Rowena turned and pressed herself against her husband’s body. ‘Make love to me,’ she whispered.

‘No,’ said Lewis, gently removing her arms
from around his neck.

Startled she took a step backward. ‘Why not?’

‘I haven’t time right now.’

‘You’ve always had time before.’

He kissed her gently on the mouth. ‘Then perhaps I just don’t want to,’ he murmured, and to her dismay he walked away, back into the house.

Chapter Three

HARRIET HAD BEEN
working for Rowena for a week now and she still didn’t understand her. Sometimes she was charm itself, smiling, making jokes and sharing female confidences with Harriet as though they were friends. At other times she was sullen and withdrawn, criticising everything Harriet did and impossible to please.

It didn’t worry Harriet. She accepted it as part of Rowena’s artistic temperament, and even if it had worried her, being near Lewis would have been ample compensation. With every day that passed she found herself more and more obsessed by him. She was sure that he was interested in her. Whenever Rowena had been particularly difficult he would go out of his way to be extra warm towards Harriet, as though he knew exactly the kind of day she’d had. He was always watching her too, yet he still was clearly in love with his wife, forever touching or stroking her as he passed.

Once Harriet had come upon them embracing passionately on the stairs. Lewis’s back had been
to the wall and Rowena’s legs were straddling his right thigh as she pressed her body against his. Although Harriet had retreated as quietly as possible the image had stayed with her and seemed to return almost every night when she was trying to get to sleep.

On this particular day she’d been working on the word processor nearly non-stop for the entire morning and when she straightened up for lunch her neck and shoulders were rigid with tension. Rowena came in to sign the fan mail and looked at her sympathetically.

‘You’ve spent too long hunched over that machine. Why don’t you have a massage? My masseur’s in the house somewhere – you’re welcome to use her.’

Harriet couldn’t think of anything nicer. ‘That would be great. Are you having lunch today?’ she added. Rowena’s eating habits were unpredictable.

Rowena shook her head. ‘Tell Lewis I’m going over something with Chris, would you? There’s a script he’s been sent to look at. He needs my advice.’

‘Of course,’ agreed Harriet. Privately she thought it highly unlikely that Chris would ever be anything like the kind of star his half-sister was, but she’d already come to realise that in Rowena’s eyes Chris was perfect.

They always had lunch in the spacious conservatory, although it was no longer quite so spacious since Harriet had obeyed Rowena’s instructions and half-filled it with exotic green plants, which the film star herself attended to every day, claiming it was therapeutic for her.

Lewis looked up when Harriet entered. ‘No Rowena?’

‘She and Chris have a script to go through.’

He looked surprised. ‘Really? I’m surprised she didn’t mention it to me. Did it come through the post today?’

‘If it did, I didn’t open it,’ replied Harriet. ‘Do you know where Rowena’s masseur is?’ she added. ‘My shoulders are stiff and she said I could use her.’

‘She’s gone I’m afraid, but I’m very good at reflexology. Would that help?’ Harriet assumed he was joking and smiled politely. ‘I’m serious,’ he continued. ‘Rowena finds it very helpful. Why not try it?’

Harriet’s heart seemed to jump in her chest as she thought about Lewis using his hands on her, letting his long slim fingers massage her feet. She longed for it, but for some reason the words of acceptance refused to pass he rlips.

‘Come along,’ said Lewis briskly. ‘Sit in the basket chair by the window and I’ll do it before we eat.’

He sounded so matter-of-fact that some of her awkwardness faded. Even if her thoughts were running along sexual lines it didn’t seem as if his were, and this chastening realisation made it easier for her to do as he said.

She sat in the chair and slipped off her high heeled shoes. ‘What about your stockings?’ he asked with a smile.

‘I wear tights,’ said Harriet, realising this was hardly a sexy admission.

Lewis pulled a face. ‘How dull! Well, I can’t massage your feet through tights; you’ll have to
slip them off.’

Harriet went to go into another room but he blocked her way. ‘For heaven’s sake, Harriet, I’ve seen more actresses changing clothes than you’ve typed letters!’

‘Sorry,’ she mumbled and her hands slid up beneath her thankfully full skirt and she tugged her tights down in what she was aware was a decidedly unerotic display of stripping.

‘Now sit down and relax,’ Lewis commanded her, but Harriet’s shoulders felt worse than when she’d finished working for Rowena. She watched as Lewis took a bottle of olive oil from the work top then sat on the wooden floor at her feet, his legs tucked sideways. He drew her right foot on to the top of his thighs, poured some of the oil into the palm of one hand, rubbed his hands together and slowly, with firm but gentle kneading movements, worked his way from the centre of the her foot towards the sides. He began at the heel and in a leisurely fashion moved towards the toes. When he reached the soft padded part of the sole behind the toes themselves he pushed his thumb down hard and rotated it in tiny circles.

As he worked Harriet could feel her whole body responding. Her shoulders and neck muscles did relax but the rest of her didn’t. She could feel her breathing quickening and her nipples brushing against her silk camisole top.

It was as much as she could do stop herself from wriggling around on the seat of the cushioned wicker chair, and when Lewis glanced up at her face she felt sure that he must know from her face exactly the effect he was having on her.

Lewis did. He reached for the oil again and
dipped a forefinger into it before softly pushing his slippery digit in and out between each of Harriet’s toes in turn, twisting it from side to side as he went. The sexual implication behind the movement, coupled with the marvellously erotic sensation, made Harriet feel as though she was turning into liquid and she knew she was becoming moist between her thighs.