‘Hardly the ideal father figure,’ said Patrick.
‘I’m not dependent on him,’ snarled Cameron too quickly. ‘I’m not dependent on anyone. The only time I feel I belong is when my credits come up on the screen.’
She was shuddering violently now, furious with herself for dropping her guard and revealing so much.
‘I guess you’ll run to Declan now and tell him the whole thing, so you can have a good laugh.’
‘Don’t be childish,’ snapped Patrick. ‘I’m going to look after you. I’ll blot out all the bad memories, even if it takes a lifetime.’
Never taking his eyes off her face, he started to unbutton his shirt.
‘It’s too soon,’ she whispered.
‘I’m not going to fuck you,’ said Patrick. ‘I’m just going to hold you close. You’ve got to learn that someone loves you for other things besides your heavenly body, and your skills as a career bitch.’
Patrick was as good as his word. Gradually the shuddering stopped and he soothed all the tension out of her. Exhausted by so much revelation, she even slept again. At midnight she insisted on going back to her house. He was very loath to let her go.
‘Let me get dressed. I’ll run you home.’
‘I’ve got my car.’
‘I want to see your house.’
‘That’s Tony’s patch.’
‘Not any more. Tony’s past history.’
Cameron sighed. ‘I guess it’s a bit more problematical than that.’
‘I feel like Demeter letting Persephone go back to the underworld,’ said Patrick as he fastened her seat belt. ‘For Christ’s sake, drive carefully. The roads are like glass. I’ll ring you tomorrow. I love you.’
Hell, thought Cameron, as she drove up to the house, I must have left the living-room light on. She glanced in the hall mirror. Not a scrap of make-up. Despite the sleep, the circles under her eyes were darker than her eyebrows. Patrick had really seen her in the raw, yet she felt strangely cleansed and at peace at having told him everything. Tomorrow they’d make love. She knew it would be wonderful. The slow lazy smile of anticipation was wiped off her face when she went into the living-room and found Tony.
The videos of her programmes lay scattered over the floor. The ashtray was filled with cigar butts. The whisky bottle, which had been half-full, was empty now. Tony was a slow drinker; he must have been there hours. Cameron shut the door and leant against it, her heart crashing. With a particularly unpleasant smile on his face, Tony picked up some papers lying on the table.
‘I’ve been looking at your contract,’ he said amiably. ‘D’you want to leave now or work out your notice?’
It was as though the last twenty-four hours had never existed. Here was reality. Her whole career, her only security, was crashing round her ears in ruins.
‘I haven’t done anything. You can’t fire me,’ she whispered in terror.
‘I don’t have to. Your contract runs out in six weeks. Such a pity you blew it.’ He examined his square, beautifully manicured fingernails. ‘I came round to tell you that Simon Harris gave in to his nervous breakdown and was carted off to a loony bin this afternoon on extended leave. But you know what I feel about unpunctuality and twenty-four hours is a little late to come home from the ball.’
‘But I never normally see you on a Sunday,’ said Cameron illogically. She seemed too stunned to take anything in.
‘That doesn’t mean I don’t expect you to be here.’
Smiling, he picked up his glass of whisky.
‘You bloody little whore,’ he said softly. The next moment he’d hurled it in her face.
For a second she was speechless, as the liquid dripped down on to the suede dress.
‘How odd,’ she said in a strained, high voice. ‘Every time I buy something new and expensive some jerk spills something all over it.’ Then she lost her temper.
‘You bastard,’ she screamed. ‘I haven’t taken a weekend off in three years. I’m always at your fucking beck and call.’
‘That’s what I pay you for,’ said Tony. His eyes were sparkling with pleasure now.
‘You bloody don’t. If you paid me golden time for the hours I put in for you, I’d be Howard Hughes by now. You frig around doing exactly what you like, expecting me to behave like a fucking nun, except when you require my services. Well, it’s not bloody good enough.’
She sprang at him, trying to claw his face, but he grabbed her wrists. He was not bull-necked and thick-armed for nothing. As his grip tightened, Cameron gasped with pain.
‘I’d put up with it,’ she said through clenched teeth, ‘if the relationship was remotely even. You raise hell if I date anyone else, but you’re quite free to take darling Sarah Stratton out to lunch and make passes at her and offer her a job.’
Tony’s eyes gleamed. ‘So that’s it. Who told you that?’
‘She did,’ yelled Cameron, desperately struggling to get away. ‘And she said you still sleep with Monica.’
Tony grinned. ‘She must have an excellent spy system.’
‘The Old Bag system. Monica told Winifred, who told Paul, who told Sarah that, as you were always pestering her, Monica restricts you to once a week. And you told me you hadn’t laid a finger on her for years. You bloody liar.’
‘It’s rather exciting sleeping with Monica,’ mused Tony. ‘There’s a rarity element about it.’
‘So that’s why you sent Madden tripping out to James Garrett on Christmas Eve to buy us both diamond bracelets. Jesus Christ!’
Starting to laugh, Tony let go of her wrists. ‘You discovered that too, did you? Poor little Cameron, you must have been festering over Christmas. Jealousy is the most destructive of emotions, you know. It hurts only oneself.’
‘I hate you,’ screamed Cameron, wrenching off the bracelet and hurling it at him. Missing him, it hit the window, slithering scratchily down the glass like a fingernail on a blackboard.
‘Get out! I’ll move out tomorrow, but leave me alone now.’ She collapsed, sobbing, on the sofa. Regurgitating her past with Patrick earlier had only underlined how terrifying it was to have no security. She was a panic-stricken sixteen-year-old again, racing through the night away from Mike with nowhere to go.
Tony poured two fingers of brandy into a glass, then moved towards her, until she could feel the solidness of his thigh against hers. She resisted the temptation to cling on to it, as a child might fling its arms around a tree for comfort.
‘You were jealous, really jealous,’ purred Tony. ‘Was that why you led that boy on?’
‘Sure.’
He caught her hair, yanking her head back. ‘Did you sleep with him?’
‘Yes,’ she muttered. Then, terrified he was going to hit her or throw the brandy into her face, ‘But not the way you think, I was so goddam tired. I hadn’t slept for nights worrying about everything. I crashed out on his bed.’
‘And nothing happened?’
‘Nothing, nothing! He’s just a kid.’ Oh please make him believe her.
‘Did Declan know you spent the night there?’
‘No, I never saw him. He never came out of the bedroom.’
With the franchise coming up this year, Tony decided, he didn’t really want to lose her, but he was going to enjoy torturing her a bit more.
‘And you promise never to see the boy again?’
‘I promise,’ said Cameron wearily. ‘But he may try to see me.’
‘We’ll have to put pressure on Declan to stop him then, won’t we?’ said Tony silkily, as he took off Cameron’s jacket.
‘That is a very disturbing dress. I’d rather you didn’t wear it in public again.’
Putting his hand under the skirt, he jabbed two fingers up inside her.
Cameron winced. ‘I can’t, Tony, not tonight. I’m really pooped.’
‘You can,’ said Tony softly, ‘if you want to be Controller of Programmes.’