An Affair to Forget (20 page)

Quite
clearly this wasn't the moment to be a mediator but simply to listen, so Jed did. Judith sounded calm and resigned rather than agitated. He whistled softly when she described her schedule for the previous four days: commissions completed, accounts wound up, no-one to let down.

`It's
okay; I'm not leaving anyone in the lurch.'

`Not
counting Howard,' Jed reminded her dryly. 'Are you sure you won’t change your mind, you have before?'

Judith
winced. How many times had Jed listened to this? Who could blame him for being cynical? But this time was different. 'No. I know what I'm doing. Thanks, Jed. Listen, I must go, but will you call Ellie? Tell her what's happened. Ask her to organize the rest of my clothes and stuff and send them on to me. I’ll call her the minute I get to London. I'm going to stay with Rosie for a while - just until I get a place of my own.'

`Rosie?'
repeated Jed. 'Is she in on this?'

Judith
laughed. 'You know Rosie, she just said "Great" when I called. She's so busy restyling half the homes of England I just said I'd explain everything when I got there.'

Jed
sighed. 'Of course. And take care, you understand? Jude...? Take some advice, will you? When you get home, catch up with your family, that kid sister of yours and your grandmother. Get your old man to write his memoirs. Get some family back into your life, stop trying to prove to the world that you're a tough player. And
call me
. Call me the minute you get there, d'you hear? I don't care what time it is. Yeah, yeah, I know what I said. Don't be so smart. But when did you always mean everything you've ever said?'

She
chose not to answer the last question but promised him instead that she would ring when she arrived at Rosie's home off Kings Road, blew him a kiss down the phone and hung up.

Fifteen
minutes until the car was due to collect her. Midday in London. She had to be right. This had to be the way.

The shrill of the telephone brought her out of her reverie. She stared impassively at the phone as it rang again. Judith backed away. Her suitcases were by the door. Ignoring the phone, she pushed them into the hallway, almost colliding with the doorman who had arrived to take her luggage down to the waiting car.

`D'ya
wanna get it, ma'am?' He hesitated.

She
nodded. 'Take the cases,' she said. 'I'll be down in a few minutes.'

A
deep breath and she reached for the phone. Howard's irate voice hardened rather than weakened her resolve.

`Jude?
Judith? Where the hell are you? What is this? Oh, c'mon, say something?'

Judith
opened her mouth, but the words wouldn't come out. Anyway, she thought, what words? Nothing left to say. The words of the Tom Rush song 'No Regrets' came floating into her brain. How did it go? 'Don't want you back, we'd only cry again, say goodbye again.' Without a word she replaced the receiver, waited a fraction of a second and then picked it up. Pulling the receiver under her chin, she punched out the number she wanted and waited, hearing the familiar double ring of a London phone.

`Premier
Publicity,' came the bored tone of the English receptionist.

`Spencer
Drummond, please.'

Judith
tapped her fingers absently on the bedside table while she waited for the girl to put her call through.

Slowly
she walked over to the double casement windows offering a glimpse of tall apartment blocks across the street and way down below a sight which never ceased to fascinate her, the crawling New York traffic, yellow cabs, single-decker buses, the waves of energy that kept the city open twenty-four hours a day. A performance, she thought, that's what New York is. One helluva show. Definitely time to go before she was seduced by the whole act all over again. Or Howard.

`Hi,'
came the familiar voice. 'Just back from your job on the way to the gym or whatever it is you do in New York at this hour?'

`Neither,'
she laughed. 'Spencer,' she said, turning her back firmly on the view and coming straight to the point, 'I've decided to take the job.'

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