Finder
Beginning
The flashy red Porsche in front of him on the London-bound motorway had gone crazy. It was swerving across the lanes, accelerating, slowing, and then shooting forward again.
Matt had seen it a mile back, and was keeping his distance. Not just a bad driver. Something wrong. Drunk, maybe?
But it was barely six o'clock on a foggy October Monday morning, the sun beginning to tear the mist into shifting tatters. The road surface was treacherous with black ice and the fog warnings were still live.
He leaned forward peering through the windscreen, trying to see the driver of the other vehicle, and swore aloud as the Porsche slowed suddenly and swerved into the centre lane. The bloody maniac, what was he up to? A man, with a woman next to him.
Matt eased back even further, moving into the slow lane to protect his newly acquired van, letting the maniac get ahead. A good thing the traffic hadn't built-up yet, but they were all moving too fast in the fog for his liking.
Suddenly they were into a clear patch and Matt saw the reason for the Porsche's erratic movement. It was trying to avoid and pass a dark green thirty-eight ton lorry, weaving across the lanes ahead of it. Incredibly the lorry seemed to be deliberately blocking the Porsche.
Once again the car swerved with a scream of tyres into the outer lane and accelerated, and as Matt watched disbelievingly, the lorry swung across into its path and slammed on its brakes.
The sound of the hissing air brakes came seconds before the scream of ripping metal and shattering glass, as the car exploded into the back of the lorry.
Matt wrenched his van on to the hard shoulder, and was immediately out of the van running towards the crash
That was how he saw, in the seconds before part of the torn-off wing of the car came spin-slicing across the road towards him, a man dive from the cab of the big lorry, do a spectacular somersault over the central reservation and vault into the back of a open truck, gathering speed, and moving in the opposite direction.
Chapter 1
A young man was standing in the doorway watching her with cool, intent eyes. She would have known him anywhere, even if Cass hadn't been hanging on his arm grinning from ear to ear.
He was spectacular, gorgeous - everything Hello Girl! - had said when they'd featured him on their pullout poster a month ago.
'Alex, meet my big brother, Leo Falkner, famous star of stage, screen and tacky T.V. Isn't it marvellous? He's home from filming in India.' Her eyes were shining. She adored her brother and was proud of him, never missing an episode of the smash hit television series he starred in.
Alex stared at him, slowly unwinding her scarf and groping for the buttons of her stained old khaki coat. He was wearing an expensive soft leather jacket, black jeans and a dark sweater that showed off his tan.
It was odd, seeing him in ordinary clothes instead of the dashing Victorian army uniform of the 10th Lancers he wore in his television role. He was taller than she had thought, his hair lighter, but the face was the same, seen so often in close up, with those arresting amber eyes and the mobile mouth that could be sensuous or cynical or tender. Or anything at all, and all of it fake, Alex thought, sourly. Too good- looking to be real.
Leo laughed at Cass, his eyes lighting up.'Tacky T.V.? Brat!' He put out his hand to Alex, smiling and charming. 'Glad to meet you at last. Cass wrote me that she'd asked you to share the flat.'
She put her hand into his, reluctantly, and felt an odd feeling travelling up her arm, and shuddering down her body to the pit of her stomach. She glanced at him, startled, and saw at once that he had felt it too. He was looking at her, the charming professional smile wiped away. Suddenly his cheekbones seemed prominent, his eyes deeper and darker in his face. She stared back, unable to look away, unable to pull back her hand, feeling her heart banging in her chest. He was devastating. Even more devastating off the screen than on.
And then she saw it come sliding into his eyes.The Look. The quick surge of desire. Not desire. Give it its real name, Alex thought, disgusted. Lust. That's what it was. The famous golden eyes were hot, the pupils dilated, his mouth sexy and full. It was unmistakeable. She had seen it too often. Even now, with her dyed hair, and looking like some kind of freaky stick insect, they still got that look on their faces.
He said, slowly, 'Don't I know you?'
She pulled her hand free, and turned away, shrugging herself out of the heavy old army coat, which swamped her thin shoulders. She felt the fear hit her stomach and cramp it.
'No,' she said, shortly. 'Excuse me, I need to get something to drink.'
Cass looked from one to the other and became aware of the tension. She went bright red. 'Alex...'
'Excuse me.'
Cass followed her out to the kitchen and stood uncertainly, her large bulk blocking the doorway.
Alex filled the electric kettle and kept her back turned.
Cass said, 'You ought to eat something.'
'Not hungry.'
'Er...Alex...'
Alex ground her teeth, irritated at Cass' tentative tone. 'He's staying here?'
Cass' voice strengthened. 'He lives here. It's his flat.'
Alex's hand stilled and she turned. Cass said, miserably. 'All right, I know I let you think it was my flat. Well, it is in a way. He bought it for both of us, so it really was okay for me to invite you to share while he was away. I know I should have told you, but I wanted you to think I was someone worthwhile. That I could get it together enough to have a flat.'
'What are you talking about, Cass?'
She flushed painfully. 'Well, you know, I'm such a mess. I'm so fat and gross. I'm not much fun. I can't go out to clubs and things. I didn't think you'd share with me.'
Alex sighed. 'We've been over all this.You're just overweight. Not gross. And of course you're worthwhile. You are just about the kindest person I know. Didn't you rescue me from that awful hostel? I was falling apart at the seams.'
'But you'll be leaving now, won't you?'
Alex was silent, pretending to concentrate on pouring the boiling water on the tea bag.
'Just because he looked at you.'
'You know how he looked. And what he said.'
Cass said wildly, 'It doesn't mean anything. Honestly. He's not like the part he has in the series. You don't even know him.'
Alex didn't answer. She knew plenty of men like him. Too many. When she picked up her cup and saucer it trembled in her hand. 'I just can't stand to be around men like that. You know why.'
Cass swallowed. 'Please, Alex. Don't go. He won't be staying long. He starts filming the new series in November.' She had tears in her eyes.
Alex looked away. 'I'll think about it.' She felt like crying herself. Except that she didn't cry any more, ever. 'I'm going to bed. Bloody Sunday. I'm knackered. Mario's cutting the kitchen staff. I'm out. Last in, first out.'
'Oh, what rotten luck, Alex. Can you get some more computer temping?'
'Sure. Not to worry. I'll look for something tomorrow. Mario paid me.'
'I should think so,' Cass said indignantly. 'All the hours you worked for peanuts. Shall I give you an early call tomorrow?'
'Thanks.'
Alex took her herbal tea into her room. She shut the door and sat miserably on the edge of her bed. She stared around the room. The flat was one of six in a large Edwardian block in Islington. It was solid and comfortable, with big windows and high ceilings. This room was almost four times the size of her old hostel room. Even the built-in cupboard was bigger. It was empty, except for a few clothes, her small suitcase and zip-up sports bag. She travelled light nowadays.
She had chosen the William Morris style wallpaper with Cass, and it had taken the two of them nearly two weeks to put it up, giggling and swearing and skidding about in the wallpaper paste. It was true you only really appreciated something when you lost it. The last four months were the best she'd ever had. She might have known it wouldn't last. Nothing good lasted. On her travels again. Another hostel.
Getting the sack couldn't have come at a worse time. She had enough saved to tide her over for a week or two, and then it would be back to the squat or the doorways again, if she couldn't find a better job. She shivered.
In the hostel it was the loneliness that was so bad, she thought. Not really knowing anyone. Just getting your junk food out of the fast food dispenser, putting it into the microwave, eating with a magazine propped up in front of you because they didn't talk to you, and then going back to your tiny cupboard of a room. But even that was a million times better than the doorways.
She would miss Cass so much. Over the months she had come to depend on her. Cass was always there, hardly ever going out, hiding herself because of her weight. When they had met at the Clinic and she had invited Alex to share the flat, she said she got an allowance from her brother and didn't need to take any rent, but Alex had insisted on paying for her food. Cass was a wonderful flatmate, always good tempered and interested. Willing to listen. Always on your side. She ran the flat perfectly, so there were always clean sheets and a clean bathroom. She fussed around Alex like a mother. Some mothers.
That was the trouble about making friends, Alex thought. It made you soft. Gave you a taste for something you couldn't have.
Was she making too much of a casual sexy glance? But he had said, 'Have I seen you before?' The risk was too great.
The next morning, Monday, nothing had changed. Alex dragged herself out of bed, pushed up the window and stuck her head out. Mist swirled around the sooty chimney pots, blanking out the houses opposite and the trunks of the plane trees on the pavement below, so they looked like floating ghost trees.
Fresh air. Well, air anyway. Three deep Yogic breaths, lifting the rib cage, expanding the lungs. Then the usual ten-minute Yoga workout. And the affirmation. Mustn't forget the affirmation.
Her body flowed easily into the series of exercises. She had always been good at dance and movement. She could feel the increased suppleness of her body. She was still thin, but she felt so much better than the day she had first met Cass at the Clinic. They had looked at each other, appalled. Then Cass had giggled, rather desperately, and said, 'We're like Jack Spratt and his wife,' and after that, against all likelihood, they had become friends. It had been the Clinic that had recommended swimming and Yoga.
The Clinic. Was she going to be haunted by the Clinic for the rest of her life? She switched her mind away. No need to think of it. That was in the past. Over and done with. She was strong now, much stronger than she looked. That fragile look was deceptive. The swimming had helped. And the Aikido she had taken up a while ago. Just as well, if she was going back to the doorways. Let anyone try anything on and they'd find out.
She tried to empty her mind, concentrate only on her breathing and the smooth slow rhythmic movements. Three Salutes to the Sun, and then into the Shoulder Stand. She loved the Shoulder Stand most of all. She raised her legs slowly, her weight balanced on her shoulders, unfurling her legs and stretching them upwards. She could stay upside-down effortlessly for minutes at a time, but this morning she needed to move. She lowered her legs very slowly and swung them over her head, past her ears, until her toes touched the floor behind her head. She stretched into the Plough posture.
'Very impressive,' said a laughing voice, 'Which end do I talk to?'
He was leaning against the doorframe, watching her. Alex's pose wavered with shock, but she breathed deeply again, brought her long legs slowly back over her head and uncoiled herself. She jumped to her feet.
'I didn't hear you knock.' She turned her back, pulling on her old tracksuit, trying not to let him see that she was shaking with nerves and anger.
'That's because I didn't. I thought you were still asleep. I brought you a cup of coffee.'
'Thanks,' said Alex, coldly, 'But I'd be glad if you'd stay out of my room.'
'I didn't know you'd be doing exercises in next to nothing.'
Alex's face remained tight, but her colour rose. 'There's not much to look at anyway. And it's my privacy I'm talking about. Not what I'm wearing.'
'I don't know,' Leo said, considering, 'You look fine to me. A bit on the skinny side, perhaps. But a good mover. Great legs.'
The Look was back.
'Out,' she said, wearily, pointing to the door.
He bowed, instantly transformed into a po-faced butler. 'Certainly, Madam. At once, Madam. Where would Madam like her coffee?'
Alex was unable to laugh. 'Nowhere. Madam doesn't drink it. Take it with you. Thanks.' The last word sounded grudging even to her own ears, and when he had gone she stared at the door he had shut after him.
Disappointment and depression swept over her. She would have to leave. She couldn't bear to have someone like Leo Falkner walking into her room whenever he felt like it. Not with that look on his face. She had had enough of men who looked at her in that way.
She stared at herself in the mirror. How could he fancy anyone who looked like that? Surely there was nothing attractive about her now? She'd worked hard at that. Last year she had walked into a back street hairdresser and in the face of incredulous protests had her hair chopped to an inch all over and dyed a sooty black. It hadn't suited her, she saw with satisfaction. It drained the colour from her pale skin and emphasised her high cheekbones and the shadows under her deep-set eyes, making her look gaunt and ill. Nothing practical could be done about the eyes, of course. They were a danger. But for a long time she had worn a pair of tinted glasses that hid the emerald green, until she realised that nobody ever looked twice at her now as she slouched along, head down, in her old khaki coat that was a legacy from Simon. Just a tall, thin girl with a sad face.
No, there was nothing at all to attract a television superstar like him, unless the man was a raving sex maniac.
Maybe he wouldn't be staying long. Maybe it would be all right.
And maybe pigs would fly. There was no way she could live in the same flat as Leo Falkner. She'd seen the Look twice now. It could still send shudders down her back and start the trembling. Better to make the break quickly. After breakfast she'd start packing.
Copyright Liz Berry 2002. All rights reserved.
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