Alison's Lament

I gave her a hug, and we slipped out of the room heading for the exit. David was waiting for us; he gave the pair of us a quizzical look. The reception site was considered secure, so he had waited at the car for us. Lucy must have texted him; the limo was waiting for us with the back door open and guarded by the other security officer.

Lucy and I climbed in with David, and the other security officer got in beside the driver.

"I'm not sure how he got in," David said. He didn't need to say who he meant we all knew.

"He didn't pass us, or we would have called you," he continued.

I was holding my hands to my head trying to understand why I'd behaved the way I had. All my promises to myself had flown out the window in Toni's presence.

"What's my schedule for the next few days?" I asked, a plan beginning to form in my mind.

"There's not much," Lucy said as she checked her phone. "A couple of magazine interviews and you're tentatively booked on the Late Show next week. We are supposed to fly to London on the 20th; the premiere is on the 25th."

"So there's nothing we can't cancel or postpone?"

She considered for a moment, "No, I might have to kiss a couple of butts, but we should be fine."

"Then I want to get away from here until we need to be in London and it needs to be somewhere that bastard can't find me."

Again, Lucy checked her phone. "We have just over a week before you need to be in London. You've got a couple of TV appearances planned in the build-up to the London premiere."

"In the States, or outside?" came David's question.

I shrugged my shoulders, "The States would be the easier option, so long as he can't find me. Can't be here, and he knows of my place in London. In any case, if I'm spotted traveling, the press will find out so he'd know where I am."

David considered, "Do you think your stepfather would let us use the cabin again? As far as I recall, Antonio isn't aware you've used it in the past."

"True, I've never mentioned the place to him. I'll ask Chad."

The place was free, and we took a friend's plane to a private airstrip outside of Denver that afternoon. Two SUV's were waiting for us, and we pulled up to the cabin later that evening. We were all hungry, and Marianne put together a plate of roast beef sandwiches for us. Lucy and I took ours out to the deck, pulling on sweatshirts against the evening chill. At the far end of the lake, lights flickered at one of the other cabins; the last time we'd been here, there had been no lights.

Lucy gestured at the lights, "Who lives there?"

Marianne put down the mugs of hot chocolate she just brought out for us and looked to where Lucy was pointing. "Oh, that's Professor Fitzpatrick's place. He's retired now; he lives there with his family."

She said the last with a smile and a funny inclination of her head that made me ask. "Okay, give Marianne; what is it about his family you want to tell us?"

I've always known that she was a bit of a gossip, nothing malicious, but she did like to know what's going on. She didn't disappoint us.

"He's a lovely gentleman, I think his family was originally from Ireland, but I think he's English now. His wife Sally is definitely British." Then her voice dropped, "But Zoe, his other wife, is American."

"What," Lucy spluttered, "two wives!"

I was staring at Marianne in surprise. I'd heard that both cabins at the other end of the lake were owned by British families, but that had been the limit of my knowledge. In fact, I'd seen one of the families fishing from their pontoon boat several times, several adults and a couple of children. They seemed quite friendly with the family who lived in the other cabin; at least I remembered seeing them all together in town in the past.

Marianne said, "Actually, I saw Sally and Zoe in town earlier today when I was picking up supplies. They saw the lights at the cabin and thought Chad was in town. They wanted to invite him and your mother to a BBQ tomorrow. When I told them it was her actress daughter and guests, they asked me to invite you."

"Should we accept?" I wanted to know.

"I don't see why not," was David's opinion. "I would suggest that we get Marianne to call them and say you accept. But at the same time get her to warn them that you are currently trying to keep off the paparazzi's radar. That should do the trick."

"You can come with us," Marianne said. "Joe and I are always invited, and we are going."

David and his team were happy to have an evening off, so Lucy and I climbed into Joe's truck, and he took the forest track that ran around the shore of the lake, linking the cabins.

It turned out that the two families socialized regularly, each family taking its turn as host. This week it was a BBQ at the Fitzpatricks' - all six of them. Michael was a handsome man in his late fifties, and I could see what his wives saw in him. He greeted the Polks with a hug for her and a back slap for Joe. He spoke with the barest hint of an Irish accent.

He turned to me and said, "Miss Bell, it's a pleasure to meet you and your friends. We know your mother and stepfather, and they are both so proud of you. Come and meet the rest of my family and friends."

Sally was a red-headed beauty in her mid-thirties. Zoe was the complete opposite: a dark-haired elven beauty, with a stunning body and she, was at least six months pregnant. Their three children, Mickey, Siobhan, and Rebecca, were running around with two other children.

The other children belonged to the second family, Daniel and Mia Davidson. They lived in the other cabin on the opposite side of the lake. Their son's name was Andy, and their daughter's, Lulu. I was pleasantly surprised to hear so many English accents. The only true Americans present were Mia and Zoe; it was nice to relax and let my Britishness run free.

"It's really Lucy," Mia admitted to us, indicating her daughter, "but Andy couldn't pronounce it properly when he was younger; he would call her Lulu, and now she's convinced it's her name." Our Lucy laughed at that, explaining that her older sister had a similar issue with her name. "Only she calls me Loo."

The afternoon slid painlessly into early evening, and it turned out to be one of the more pleasant days I'd had in some time. Both families seemed extremely comfortable with each other, and their children played as though they were one family. Their relaxed attitude extended to us, other than a few general questions about the mechanics of film creation

After the children had been settled for the evening, the adults collected around the fire pit. Mia and I sat to one side; she'd mentioned earlier that she was a relationship counselor and I was interested in asking her opinion on why Antonio had such an influence on me.

I mentioned a problem, and she drew me to one side away from the others. We sat on a fallen log; she jokingly called her doctor's office and offered me her "nickel consultation." She gave me a smile as though I should understand her analogy. I might have if I'd seen the Peanuts cartoons, but they hadn't been part of my upbringing. So, her reference flew over my head. My blank expression told her, and she gave me the briefest of explications.

Then she asked, "How can I help you?"

I started to explain my problem, but after a moment she stopped me. "Before you say too much," she said. "I need to point out that while I'm a partner in a relationship guidance group, my own specialty is sexual problems, and I'm not a psychiatrist."

"That's fine," I said after a moment's consideration. "My sexual behavior is part of my problem, and to be honest, I'm looking for another woman's perspective."

She nodded and gave me an encouraging smile. I ended up having a long talk with her, explaining about the way Antonio affected me.

"I never behave this way around men," I explained. "It's only with Toni that I turn into a simpering idiot. I'm scared he's going to hurt me."

"He hits you?"

"No, not really, but the sex was getting rougher. I was always bruised after a night with him."

Mia looked at me earnestly, "You know the best thing is to do is to take out a restraining order against him."

"We've considered this, but on what grounds?" I replied. He's not threatening me. I'm stupid enough to go with him willingly. Even if I could, I'd have to take one out in every country. The sad thing is he doesn't force me. He gives me that smile of his, crooks his finger and I follow him like a bitch in heat, and I don't understand why. Is there something wrong with me?" I gave her an anxious look.

"This isn't really my area," Mia admitted, "But it sounds as though he's manipulating you. He's got into your mind."

She gave me a considered look and said. "There is a theory that's been bandied about for a few years. That at some point in our lives, each of us has the potential of a perfect storm."

I gave her a questioning look, I knew the term, but not in this context.

"It's when a person experiences a set of circumstances that multiply and compound the situation," she explained. "Usually there's a dominant and submissive partner."

I was shocked by her suggestion, and I guessed she didn't think I was the dominant one. "I'm not a submissive," I argued.

"That's not what I'm suggesting," Mia replied quickly. "It's just that under certain circumstances, any of us can be sexually submissive. We've seen cases where either the husband or the wife - usually the wife - meets someone and then suddenly goes off the rails. They act in a way that is completely alien to their normal behavior, and they cannot completely explain why."

"So you think there's a chance that Antonio is my perfect storm?"

"If you don't love him, but can't resist him, then it's a possibility."

"Love him, no, there's not much of a chance of that. I've been in love with someone else for most of my life."

Now it was Mia's turn to look confused. "You're not talking about this Simon I've seen linked to you recently, are you? That's too recent."

I shook my head, "Simon was a mistake on location. The stupid man is convinced I'm in love with him. No, I'm talking about someone else."

"Does he know about Antonio?"

I gave a brief laugh, "I'm not even sure he remembers me. I haven't seen him since I was eighteen."

I told her about my resurgent feelings for my childhood friend and lover.

"We were as close as two people could be for more than twelve years. Though," I admitted sadly, "We never did make that final commitment before I got dragged away."

"And you haven't tried to get back in contact?"

"I couldn't, in the beginning, and then as time passed I got involved with so many other things I kept pushing it back until..." I stopped talking; I still couldn't believe I'd managed to push the most important person in my life so far into the background.

"So what do I do about Toni?" I asked trying to get back on track.

"First thing, you need to stop calling him Toni, using a diminutive for him implies that you still want to be involved. Then it's a case of doing what you are doing. You need to stay away from him until you are in a better relationship. Then, hopefully, he will become an irrelevant footnote. However, you will need to understand it sounds like he will always have some degree of influence over you, I suspect it's just your nature."

I gave her a despairing look. "Are you saying he'll always be able to crook his finger and I'll go running?"

The fire flared up as someone added a couple of logs and the clearing glowed briefly until the flames fell back. Mia's face picked up a golden tinge, and her eyes reflected back the flames.

"It will depend on the circumstances in which you meet him," she said. "If you are on your own and needy, then it's a possibility."

"So I need to make sure I'm never on my own?"

"Yes, but that's not what I meant. I mean whether you are in a solid relationship or not, at the time."

"So what do you recommend?"

"Honestly, I think you need to find your friend Josh and hope he still feels the same way about you."

We spoke a bit more, and I arraigned to meet Mia in her office for a longer discussion. As I pointed out to her, she might as well get paid more than a nickel to listen to my troubles. We returned to the group clustered around the fire. Mia settled down on her husband's lap, and I squeezed in beside Lucy.

Several days later we were crossing the Atlantic on our way to England. Lucy and I were sitting in first class, and the cabin was in darkness. I'd been going over the details of the trip with her.

When we'd run out of items to discuss, I added. "As soon as I'm done with the events surrounding the premiere, I want you to set up an appointment with that detective agency Jerry recommended."

"You want them to find that boy of yours?"

I gave a short snort of laughter, "Jos is no boy; he's the same age as I am. He's four weeks older, but yes, I want to try and find him. If I do," I added, "I don't want anyone to mention my problems with Antonio, and Simon to him. I want to be the one to raise those issues, if I have to," I muttered in a sotto voce.

My phone rang, and Lucy picked it up. She raised her eyebrows, "It's Simon; do you want to talk to him?"

I didn't want, I'd successfully managed to avoid him for the past few weeks, but I knew he'd be at the premiere, so I responded. "I suppose I need to; he will be at the premiere, and I don't want any surprises."

She answered the call and passed the phone over to me. I moved over to the picture window and looked down at the dark water of the river Thames.

I greeted him warily, but Simon sounded pleasantly relaxed and apologized for having overstepped the bounds of friendship. He appeared to understand that I wasn't interested in a relationship with him.

We spoke for several minutes about the logistics of the premiere and the reception that was planned to follow it. He mentioned a new project he thought we'd be perfect for, and I let him go on about it for a while faking a degree of enthusiasm, I had no intention of following up.

Finally, Simon wrapped up the call by saying, "Ash, I do feel that I owe you a better apology. There's a restaurant I know that has been getting great reviews. Let me take you out to dinner tonight."

I had to consider my reply for a few moments, but ultimately I decided, why not?

"Sure, I'd like that," I told him. "Do you want to meet me at the apartment and I'll get David to arrange a car?"

He agreed, and I rang off. I considered what to wear and settled for a dark blue strapless dress that fell a couple of inches above my knees. I wore my hair down in a casual style I wasn't known for. Hopefully, it was a mix of elegance and casualness that would let me merge into the background.

The restaurant was one I'd not heard of before. The chef was one of Gordon Ramsey's protégés, so I was looking forward to trying the food. It was small and in a nice location in the West End, near the main theaters. Simon had reserved a table in a secluded corner, but due to the intimate size of the place, there were several other tables nearby. The place was almost full, and Simon admitted he'd shamelessly used both of our names to get us the table. At Simon's insistence, we'd arrived fashionably late; most of the other diners appeared to be halfway through their meals. David was shown to a small table in the bar area with a good view of the interior of the restaurant and was offered a soft drink.

The aromas emanating from the open plan kitchen made my mouth water in anticipation. We settled down at our table and Simon ordered our drinks. I accepted the meal suggestions the waitress proposed, but Simon insisted on dissecting the menu before choosing a steak. While he ordered I looked around the restaurant, nobody seemed to be taking notice of us. David had sat down at the bar, and I could see that he looked relaxed, so I followed suit.

It didn't take Simon long to get down to the point of the evening. I'd expected him to urge me to join him in his next project and I had been considering how best to decline his offer. I shouldn't have worried; he had another goal in mind.

"I realize I was a tad heavy-handed in Vietnam," he admitted.

"Just a bit," I agreed and wondered where he was going with this.

"But I'd be lying if I didn't tell you I thought we have something," he said sincerely. "I realize I shouldn't have jumped the gun with the marriage proposal, but you have to admit we were great together."

I guess I'm a better actress than I give myself credit for. The sex had been okay, but nothing to write home about. The rest of the time, Simon had been so self-centered I'd been trying to avoid him. Not an easy task when he was your co-star. Yet he still seemed to think I was madly in love with him.

He reached across the table and took hold of my hand. "Come on Ash; we'd make a great couple."

I needed to stop this in its tracks; I had the sickening feeling he was building up to a second public proposal.

"I'm sorry Simon, you're a great person, but I just don't feel the same way about you. Look, I enjoyed our time together on set, but half of that was me getting into character. We were playing lovers, and we became lovers." I pulled my hand away from his and added, "I'm not interested in marrying you."

His face froze, and I braced myself for his response. I was saved by a woman approaching the table.

She cautiously addressed me, "I'm sorry to intrude, but aren't you Ashley Bell? I'm a great fan of your films."

Usually, I'm not keen on fans approaching me when I'm out and about. However, right then, I was happy for the interruption. David knew of my dislike, and I saw him getting to his feet to escort the woman away. I gave him a brief shake of my head, and he settled down again.

I gave the woman a smile and admitted that I was Ashley Bell.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I'm Julia, I'm with my husband and some old friends," and she pointed across the room at a table. I casually glanced over in the direction she was indicating and my breath caught in my throat.

A man was in the process of standing up from the table, and despite the intervening years, I recognized him immediately. Jos gave me one hard, bitter look and then turned his back to me and hurried out of the restaurant.

I stood, moving to Julia's side, and grasped her arm. "That man, was he Josh Thomas?"

She had taken a step back at my sudden movement, and her voice expressed her surprise, "You know Josh?"

"I went to school with him, but I haven't seen him for years. Do you know where he's gone?"

"Maybe back to his hotel, I can ask the others," Julia said and headed back to her friends.

As I moved to follow her, Simon grasped my arm and forced me to stop.

"What are you doing, Ash? Sit back down, we haven't eaten, and we still need to talk."

I shook my head, "Sorry, Simon, the man who just left was an old friend of mine, and I'd like to see if I can find out where he's staying."

I shrugged off his hand, and with everyone in the restaurant watching me I followed Julia to her table. She introduced me to her companions, her husband William, and their friends Paul and Catherine. I sat down in the seat that Josh had vacated and smiled at their shocked expectations.

"Hi, please call me Ashley. Just how do you all know Josh?" I wanted to know.

Paul was the one who replied. "We were all at university together."

Catherine, the woman, sitting by his side was looking back at the table I'd come from and blurted out, "Is that Simon Davies?"

"Yes," then I added, "Why are you all here and do you know where Josh went?"

William was the one that asked the question I guess they wanted to know the answer to, and it was one I wasn't willing to answer in detail.