Dark Secret (2 page)

The house was large and imposing. It was built of Portland stone and stood well back in what Harriet estimated to be about two to three acres of parkland. When she halted her car outside the front door she looked down across an immaculate lawn with green conifers and bushes on either side extended right back to the gates. As far as she could see, the garden at the side was less well tended and comprised more shrubs than lawn, but the entire perimeter of the area was protected by tall trees which successfully shut out the rest of the world.

A butler opened the front door to her, and she stepped into a long entrance hall, at the far end of which she could see a modern open-plan winding staircase. The carpet was a deep coral colour, the walls and ceiling a textured white and on either side of the hall there were numerous china and porcelain ornaments ranging from a life-size greyhound sitting to attention to an exquisitely delicate ballerina which was little more than six inches in height and stood on an ornate glass table. The ornaments had no apparent connection with each other and none of them matched in colour or design but Harriet suspected that every one of them was priceless.

‘If you would wait here, Miss Radcliffe,’ said the butler politely, ushering her into a tiny ante-room. ‘Miss Farmer will be with you in a moment.’

Harriet sat down on the nearest chair and wondered if she could possibly have heard him right. If Miss Farmer was her possible future employer then there was only one person it could be. Rowena Farmer, who had shot to fame in two huge box office successes as a sexy private investigator, becoming at the same time one of the greatest sex symbols since Marilyn Monroe. Harriet’s heart began to beat more rapidly, but then she told herself firmly that Miss Farmer was probably a secretary whose job it was to weed out unsuitable applicants. It was hardly likely that someone like Rowena Farmer would do her own interviewing.

Just as she’d calmed her nerves the door opened and Rowena Farmer made her entrance.
There was no other expression that applied, thought Harriet to herself, as the petite titian-haired beauty stood framed in the doorway. Dressed in a canary yellow cropped top and a bronze organdie skirt with a pale green sleeveless overtop that reached to her ankles she stood directly in the light from the opposite window, her hair gleaming and her immaculately made-up face glowing with health, and smiled a brilliant, professional smile at Harriet.

‘I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting, Miss Radcliffe,’ she murmured in the famous low husky voice that Harriet recognised from her films. ‘There’s so much to do at the moment. We only arrived three days ago and … well, you can imagine what it’s like, I’m sure.’

Again she smiled, but Harriet knew that the smile wasn’t really for her. It was an automatic response to another person’s presence, and as such meaningless, but at least she was being polite. Somehow Harriet had expected her to be spoilt and petulant in private. Then she reminded herself that this wasn’t in private. Rowena Farmer was performing for a possible employee. The real Miss Farmer was unlikely to emerge until you were actually in her employment.

‘Come this way,’ continued the film star, gliding smoothly out into the hall, and Harriet followed her to the far end and then through a heavy oak door into a drawing-room.

The carpet here was pure white, while the walls were white with the faintest suggestion of apple green, a tone that was complimented by the low green sofa and two winged chairs. In the middle of the room a large glass table top was supported
by four green chinese dragons whose images were repeated in the draped and tied curtains that had been fastened in such a way as to allow in only a very little light.

Rowena Farmer sank into one of the chairs and indicated that Harriet should sit on the sofa. It was lower than normal and she wished that she’d worn a longer skirt as hers rose above her thighs and left her sitting with her knees tightly together and angled to her left. She still had the suspicion that Rowena Farmer must be able to see right up her skirt if she wanted to, but the film star’s eyes never left Harriet’s face until she picked up the application and read it through as though to remind herself of its contents.

At the far end of the drawing-room, directly opposite Harriet, was an ornate mirror that took up half the wall. She smiled to herself. Probably film stars liked mirrors everywhere, and certainly Rowena Farmer had every cause to be proud of her beauty, which was as spectacular in the flesh as on the screen.

While Harriet tried to sit still and Rowena read her CV, a man sitting concealed behind the mirror glanced down at the written notes on the table in front of him. His long fingers picked up a pen and he began to scribble comments in the margins of the pages, and all the time he watched the unsuspecting Harriet through the two-way mirror. Beneath heavy dark brows his brown eyes gleamed with appreciation.

After what seemed to be a very long time, Rowena put the letter of application to one side and turned her attention to Harriet. ‘Why did you leave your last job?’ she enquired.

Harriet had already decided to be completely honest. ‘I was bored,’ she confessed. ‘The work was interesting at first but it quickly became routine. The money was good and so were the working conditions, but I needed a change. I wanted to do something where every day would be slightly different. I was doing a lot of figure work you see, and I really prefer people.’ She smiled at Rowena, but the film star didn’t smile back. Her eyes were quite blank, as though she didn’t understand what Harriet was saying.

Harriet felt she had to explain further, because she wanted this job very badly. The thought of actually working for someone as famous as Rowena Farmer was irresistible. ‘I was engaged until recently, but I realised that the engagement was rather like my job, agreeable but unexciting. I was afraid that if I didn’t change, didn’t try something different – broaden my horizons more – I’d end up regretting it.’

‘You want to broaden your horizons?’ queried Rowena with sudden interest.

‘Yes!’ said Harriet eagerly. ‘I’m twenty-three now; soon it will be too late.’

‘Twenty-three is young,’ murmured the film star regretfully.

‘But it’s so easy to settle for too little,’ said Harriet, warming to her theme. ‘Ever since I was young I’ve thought that it was being safe that mattered. Everything I did was carefully thought out, and if there was ever any risk, any chance of something going wrong, I discarded that option. Now I think I was wrong, and I want to do something different with my life while I still can.’

‘You’re looking for danger?’

Behind the mirror the man leant forward slightly, his chin resting on his hands. This was going far better than he could ever have anticipated. So far she was perfect.

Harriet smiled. ‘Not danger in the way of climbing rock faces or sailing round the world in a yacht, but I’d like to take a chance or two before I settle down.’

Rowena nodded. ‘And at the moment do you have any emotional attachments?’

The hidden man almost stopped breathing as he waited for Harriet’s answer. If she said yes then she would be of no use to them, and he desperately wanted her to join their household.

Harriet shook her head. ‘There’s no one. I’m not in a hurry to replace James. In fact, I’m enjoying the feeling of freedom!’

Rowena laughed, but again Harriet had the disconcerting impression that it was a professional laugh. This woman wasn’t amused, and in a way she hardly seemed interested enough in what Harriet was saying. She put the questions, but then her attention seemed to wander and she would stare over Harriet’s shoulder and out of the window rather than at her face.

‘The thing is Harriet – I may call you Harriet, I hope?’ Harriet nodded. ‘Good. The thing is that I’m here to make a very special film, and it’s vital that no word of this gets out until everything is settled. You know – script, cast, contracts signed, all those boring things that have to be done before you can be sure a project is underway.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t know anything about the way the film industry works,’ confessed Harriet.

Rowena shrugged dismissively. ‘That doesn’t
matter, you’d soon learn. No, what I need is a discreet, efficient English secretary. They’re famous for their discretion and efficiency, you know. Unfortunately, in order to fit in with my rather demanding schedule it would be necessary for the successful applicant to live in for the length of my stay here.’

‘Live in?’ said Harriet in astonishment.

‘It’s the time difference, darling,’ explained Rowena, longing to light up a cigarette but aware that Lewis, watching from behind the mirror, would disapprove. ‘You’d get telephone calls at all hours. Also, I suffer from insomnia-sometimes I’d want to dictate letters in the middle of the night if I couldn’t sleep.’

Harriet stared at the other woman. She’d have thought that a fax machine would have taken care of night-time calls, and as for insomnia, everyone knew that film stars lived on sleeping pills, but she wasn’t going to argue. It was a beautiful house and the job was only for six months. She had no objection to living in. She could easily go back to her own flat now and again, during her time off, and make sure everything there was secure. Just the same, it was a strange request.

‘I’d pay double your previous salary,’ said Rowena suddenly.

Harriet tried not to let her astonishment show. She’d been very well paid in her previous job; doubling it when she was going to live in was extraordinary.

‘To make up for the inconvenience of losing your social life for six months,’ explained Rowena. ‘I doubt if you’ll have much free time. I’m afraid I’m very demanding!’ Again the
practised laugh.

‘But I would have time off?’ queried Harriet.

‘Of course, although not necessarily set days. It’s so difficult in this business to know when you’ll need someone and when you won’t. You do understand?’

‘Yes, of course. It’s just all rather strange to me, I’m afraid.’

Rowena curled her legs under her in the chair, looking frail and kittenish. ‘But surely that’s what you wanted, Harriet? A change. Something that would broaden your horizons. I can certainly promise you that.’

Go for it, said a voice in Harriet’s head. You wanted a chance to experience new things and this is it. Why are you hanging back? She gave herself a mental shake. ‘It sounds very exciting,’ she said with a laugh.

Rowena seemed to relax suddenly, and let out her breath with an audible sigh. ‘That’s great, Harriet. Naturally there are one or two points I have to check up on. References, that kind of thing, but I’m sure we won’t come across any problems there. With any luck I can let you know definitely by the end of tomorrow.’

As Harriet rose to her feet and let Rowena usher her out of the room she wondered briefly who the ‘we’ was. She had no idea if Rowena was married or not, and decided that if she got the job she must ring Ella and find out all she could about the woman she’d be working for.

As they reached the front door the butler materialised, but Rowena waved him away and opened the door herself. She then extended a small, perfectly manicured hand to Harriet. ‘I’m
sure you’d fit in very well here, Harriet,’ she said with the warmest smile she’d managed during the entire interview. ‘I do so admire cool English women. I’m afraid we’re rather more upfront in the States.’

‘Maybe you’re just more friendly,’ suggested Harriet.

‘I trust that if you do join us you won’t find our way of life too overwhelming,’ responded Rowena. ‘Not that it will matter. As you said, you wanted a change.’

Harriet smiled and made her way to her car. She had a sneaking suspicion that instead of cool, Rowena Farmer had actually meant boring or inhibited, but it didn’t bother her. She wanted the job, and she couldn’t imagine a similar opportunity ever coming her way again. She just hoped that the film star thought she was suitable.

The film star in question watched the BMW draw away from the house and leant against the wall, totally drained by her own performance. She’d woken that morning exhausted and sated by a night of love-making, her head throbbing from an excess of champagne, and she’d completely forgotten about Harriet until twenty minutes before she arrived. Even then it was only fear of her husband’s fury that had driven her to leave her bed and she’d then bullied and cajoled her dresser into getting her ready on time.

Slowly she returned to the drawing-room where the interview had taken place. Lewis was already there, lounging in the second armchair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. She stood on the threshold of the room and studied
him carefully. At thirty-nine he was even more attractive now than when she’d met him four years earlier and she thought how unfair it was that men improved with the years while women didn’t – at least not film stars who built their reputations on looks and glamour.

Lewis was going to change all that though. This new film, his brainchild and as such a guaranteed box office success, would show people that she was more than a sex symbol. That she could show depth and passion, and she was willing to bare her soul in order to regain her place in the hall of fame. She was scared, but Lewis would help her.

He turned his head. ‘You did well,’ he said slowly.

Rowena sat down in her chair and with trembling hands reached for the cigarettes in her handbag. She heard him sigh but ignored him. There were times, moments like this, when the danger of what they were doing overwhelmed her and she had to have help. He’d weaned her off her drugs, restricted her drinking but had so far failed to get her to give up smoking. Sometimes his almost puritanical approach to certain aspects of life irritated her, but she knew that it made him what he was and was responsible for his incredible success.

‘She’s the one, isn’t she?’ commented Rowena, drawing on the cigarette.

‘She could have stepped straight from the pages of the script,’ agreed Lewis. ‘It’s incredible. Those long legs, that fantastic air of self-contained reserve with the suggestion of so much more beneath. And those eyes! Did you see them? They reveal everything she tries to conceal. I can’t wait
to begin.’