Lost in Love

On top of that, she had to grin and bear the sight of Guy enjoying the over-amorous advances of one or other of the many women who threw themselves at him. He was that kind of man: handsome, worldly, and full of a charisma that had been earned by the dangerous way he’d achieved his fame. Women adored him, and he took their adoration entirely as his due, and wasn’t past encouraging it when the mood took him.

It was witnessing one of the more—obvious displays of adoration one night that decided Marnie that she’d had enough.

The party was being held by one of Guy’s old racing cronies, in a big London town-house with several reception-rooms packed to bursting with people enjoying themselves in their brittle, sophisticated way. She had learned early on that there were no holds barred at these functions. Drink yourself silly if you wanted to, make passes at anyone you fancy—which did not count her out just because she was the great Guy Frabosa’s wife! And it was even acceptable for some couples to disappear for a significant length of time during the evening, and not always with the person they’d arrived with! It forced her to wonder about the times she couldn’t find Guy in the crush these parties always were; to wonder if he too was not averse to sneaking off for a quick tumble with some willing creature.

But that particular night, the crunch came for Marnie when it happened to be Anthea Cole who decided to drape herself around him from the moment they arrived, and not let go since. Anthea was the woman Marnie had usurped from Guy’s bed. And to see her of all people hanging all over him, knowing that the other woman was as knowledgeable about Guy’s lovemaking as she was herself, just about blew her usual cool as a hard, hot, ugly sting of jealousy ripped through her. Then, to top it all, seeing Guy busy with Anthea, Derek Fowler had the gall to chance his arm with Marnie! She slapped him down, coldly and precisely, leaving him in absolutely no doubt what she thought of him, then walked out of the party, leaving Guy to do as he pleased.

He was furious, of course. When he arrived back at the apartment he came storming into their bedroom where she was emerging from the adjoining bathroom after a long, hot, angry shower, rubbing at her wet hair with a towel.

‘What the hell is the matter with you?’ he snapped, slamming the door shut so hard that she winced. ‘What the bloody hell were you trying to prove, walking out on me in front of my friends?’

‘You call them friends?’ she scoffed. ‘I call them a bunch of ravenous wolves, existing for only one thing in life—sex!’ she said in disgust. ‘Wherever and however they can get it. And if they are your friends, then for God’s sake don’t count me as one of them; I don’t think I could live with the taint of it!’ She spun away from him, the towel rubbing furiously at her long wet hair.

‘Someone has offended you,’ he said, coming down from his own anger because he thought he could soothe away hers now he knew the reason for it.

‘You could say that,’ she snapped. ‘You’ve offended me. You offend me every time you take me to parties like that one we went to tonight.’ She turned to view the look of surprise written on his hard, handsome face. ‘You then consolidate the offence by just dropping me to go in search of your own pleasures in another woman’s arms while expecting me to stand meekly by and await your wonderful return!’

‘Anthea,’ he said. ‘You’re angry because you’re jealous of Anthea!’

He sounded so damned self-satisfied that Marnie actually did bare her nails and her teeth as she shouted, ‘Anthea? What the hell is Anthea except for one in a long long line of Antheas who’ve been led to believe that you’re open to anything they want to offer you? Well, not this woman any more!’ Angrily, she threw the towel aside and walked threateningly towards him. ‘Because this woman has more self-respect than to sleep with an ageing old stallion who sees his main function in life as putting himself out for stud!’

Oh, she shouldn’t have said it. And even now, all these years later, she could still feel the clutch of remorse she’d felt then as she watched his face go pale, and his body jerk as if in reaction to a vicious blow.

And vicious it ha

d been, because she’d known how sensitive Guy was to the difference in their ages. It was perhaps his one and only Achilles’ heel, and she’d cruelly pierced it dead in the centre.

Of course, he went all cold and haughty on her. It was perhaps either that or seduce her senseless. She’d deserved both. But it was the haughtiness she got, and with such devastating impact that she could even find it in her to admire him for it now. Though not then—not then when he said coldly, ‘Then, of course, you must sleep alone, my dear Marnie. While I, poor ageing stud that I am, will go out and find a less discerning creature to share my humble bed.’

Which he had, she recalled bitterly now. He left the apartment and did not come back for three days—by which time she had gone from remorse to resentment and from there to an angry defiance which had her accepting a commission which took her off to Manchester for a week.

She arrived back tired, miserable and so riddled with guilt for those terrible words she had thrown at him that she was quite prepared to go down on her knees and beg so long as he forgave her for them. It was late, and Guy was already in bed when she let herself quietly into their bedroom. She wasn’t sure if he was awake, but she sensed that he was as she crossed to the bathroom and quickly showered before going and climbing into the bed beside him.

He didn’t say a word, not a single word, but the way he reached for her was a message in itself, and they made love with a kind of wild desperation that shook them both. But if she had been secretly hoping he would reassure her about those other women then she was disappointed, and a new restraint entered their relationship, the strain that last row had placed between them always hovering in the tense air around them.

Nothing was really the same after that. They went to no more parties. That complaint at least had seemed to get through to him. But Guy treated her with a new kind of respect which verged on indifference, while she threw herself into her work, accepting commissions wherever they were offered which took her away from London for long days on end. And Guy had his own commitments to fulfil, flying off to all corners of the world, so they became more like strangers than husband and wife, meeting briefly in the darkness of their bedroom to slake a hunger that was all the more wretched because it was all they seemed to have.

The strain of it all became too much for Marnie, and a depression began to set in. She came back home after spending a miserable week in Kent to find the apartment empty because Guy was away somewhere in the wilds of Yorkshire. He was away a week, and by the time he came back she was feeling so low that he took one hard look at her pale, unhappy face and gathered her into his arms.

She thought he was after sex, and retaliated accordingly by pushing him angrily away. So he did his usual, and bit out some deriding words at her about what a mess she looked and how he was going out to find someone who knew how to keep her man. He didn’t return that night. When he did, he looked as though he had just rolled out of someone’s bed to come straight home.

They had another row—one which ended up with him bundling her into his car and taking her to Oaklands. Where he left her—to decide, he said, which was more important to her: her marriage or her work.

It was the first time he had challenged the amount of time she devoted to her work. And she read it clearly for what it was: an ultimatum. He wanted total devotion or nothing, and for the next week she seethed bitterly over the choice, wishing she could just up and leave him and knowing wretchedly that she could not. She loved him too much.

Then something happened to make the decision for her. And suddenly she was in a fever of excitement, racing back to London to see Guy.

She arrived at the apartment in time for dinner, but Guy wasn’t there and Mrs Dukes, the housekeeper, said she had hardly seen him since Marnie went away. Casting aside the small sting of alarm she experienced, she set about ringing around in an effort to find him. Calling her brother was just a spur-of-the-moment idea. Guy had recently set Jamie up in his own small garage just outside London, and she knew he liked to call in and show an interest in whatever car Jamie was working on at the time.

‘Have you tried Derek Fowler’s house?’ he suggested. ‘There’s some kind of big party going on there tonight, so I heard. Perhaps Guy has gone there. You should keep a tighter rein on that man of yours, Marnie,’ he then went on to admonish. ‘Guy is too hot a property for you to let run around London as freely as he does. Women just can’t keep their hands off him.’

But they will learn, she thought grimly as she set out for the party. From now on, all of them will learn that Guy Frabosa is well and truly taken!

She arrived at Derek Fowler’s home to find the party in full swing. She and Derek Fowler had become cold antagonists since she’d slapped him down, so stepping over the threshold into his house took a certain amount of courage. But she was desperate to see Guy, and that was all that was in her mind as she squeezed a way through the crush of people to go in search of him, having no idea just what she was walking into.

It took just ten minutes to find out.

She found Derek Fowler first, flirting lazily with a slinky model type wearing a red silk dress and nothing else, by the look of it.