Exposure Read online

  EXPOSURE

  Avril Osborne

  Copyright© 2010 by Avril Osborne

  Smashwords Edition

  www.avrilosborne.co.uk

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic ,mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either thee product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of varied products referenced in this work of fiction, which have bed used without permission. The publication of these trademarks is not authorised, associated with, or sponsored by trademark owners.

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  Table of contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Other Books

  EXPOSURE

  CHAPTER 1

  Susan is not used to being kept waiting. Outside, the rain of early spring is falling like stair rods - vertical and piercing. It is the kind of rain that soaks in seconds. Impatient, she eyes the door, watching for Linda. She always enjoys these meetings, even if they are only occasional now. They are the social get-togethers of two women who do not question why they consider themselves best friends. Time pressures mean only infrequent suppers together, but still, each of them has had support and an unquestioning, listening ear for nearly fifteen years.

  Because they meet so seldom, it is all the more unusual for Linda to be late.

  “And she says our time together is precious,” Susan mutters to herself. Sometimes, she wonders why she bothers. Life is busy, after all.

  At least the warm atmosphere of the bistro helps to dry her hair and jacket. If there is one thing that she hates it is being less than immaculate and tidily groomed. She is sufficient of a personality to be recognised, and the public, she finds, somehow expect her to have the same sartorial elegance when they see her out and about in the city, as when she is on television. It is as well that she has only a limited capacity for alcohol. It controls her intake and bleary eyes just will not do when she appears on screen tomorrow.

  A young man seems to recognize her and hovers before intruding. Pardon him for asking, but is she Susan Blakely? Ah. Well, could he possibly have Miss Blakely’s autograph, just to prove to his wife that he has seen the celebrity? Susan is glad at this moment that her cheek-length blonde hair is in place now, its shape accentuating her high cheekbones as it frames her face. And her clothes are stylish and expensive enough to ensure that ordinary city rain will not spoil them or fail to show her tall, slim shape to its full advantage. With her legs crossed and her skirt slightly open at the slit, her presence stands out amongst even this sophisticated, power-dressing assembly of early evening diners.

  The autograph seeker heads on his way after a few minutes of polite admiration for Susan. He wanted to know just a little bit about Susan’s career, but she was not about to get into deep conversation. Still, it is gratifying when people are interested.

  Linda finally appears in the restaurant doorway, shaking her brolly and scanning the tables. Susan catches her eye and waves. Tall, dark and slim, but still more heavily built than Susan, she is a good-looking woman. Her dress, though, is just that little bit out of date by comparison with Susan’s attire, but together, they make a striking pair of friends to any onlookers.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Linda apologises now, obviously genuinely regretting that Susan must have been sitting here for over thirty minutes whilst she wrapped up her day at the University.

  Susan listens as Linda describes a late evening meeting about finances, which was convened in something of a hurry by Linda’s boss. It was a heated debate, apparently – one of those meetings where personality issues get in the way. Linda had no choice but to sit the meeting out, not even able to reach Susan by her mobile phone. Susan’s unnoticed exasperation takes its time to dissolve as Linda settles now at the table, the account of work tapering off as she too sheds the stress of the day. Linda’s genuine frustration and apology make it easy for her to forgive the wait. Susan decides to pitch right in to what is on her mind.

  She has Linda’s attention right away.

  “Tell me, Linda, illness or madness? Love is one or the other. I’m never sure which.”

  “Probably both,” Linda laughs, after a second’s thought. “But would you be without it? I take it this is about Bill?” As she asks this, she gives her friend a quizzical look and rallies to the question, clearly putting all thought of University to the back of her mind. She sips a first taste of the white wine that sits ready for her on the table, visibly relaxing as she does so.

  Susan looks into her wine glass, holds it up towards her friend in greeting and takes a sip before replying.

  “No, I suppose not – I wouldn’t be without it, I mean. But it consumes so much of your energy. And there’s barely time to lead the rest of your life.”

  “Come on, Susan,” Linda protests with a wry smile. “You’ve been with Bill for over a year and look what you have done in the same time. Career, holidays, a life style to envy. And you have time to meet me – even if only occasionally.”

  She gives Susan a slightly chastising grin as she says the last words.

  “Is that the mildest of jibes?” queries Susan, pulling a face in acknowledgement. “Anyway,” she continues, “ I suppose I deserved that. Come on - let’s get some food. It’s my treat by way of recompense for your kindness in putting up with me. We can talk as we eat.”

  And, Susan reflects, as she and Linda queue at the vegetarian counter, selecting an aubergine casserole and various salads, wine and cheese, Linda has indeed been patient, not badgering her to keep up the weekly suppers that shaped their time together till Bill arrived on the scene. Instead, Linda has been cheerfully available on the occasions when Susan has managed to ring. She guesses that Linda knows that these are the evenings when Bill is out of town or at meetings and that she is being fitted in. Linda never alludes to this and certainly never complains. Linda, Susan admits, is always very forbearing.

  As they return to the pine table and put plates, wine carafe and cutlery in front of them, Susan picks up the theme of her friend’s loyalty.

  “You have been very patient, you know, and I do appreciate it. If this is the only time I can make for being with my best friend, heaven knows wha
t my shrinking social circle will be like, the next time I have time to look.”

  “Well, friends who are worth having will still be around when you come out of your ‘madness and illness’ phase, as you call it. We all know what it is like to be in love, even if it’s a long time ago for the likes of me.” Linda laughs at herself with evident ease. “Others will only have existed as friends of the moment and the moment will have passed.”

  She pauses before continuing.

  “You know,” she muses, “They say that it’s not love that’s the divisible commodity; it’s only time. There is always enough love to go round. There’s just not enough time.”

  Susan says nothing; just thinks about some of the times in her life when she could have been more generous of spirit and less jealous. As if sensing Susan’s discomfort, Linda veers the conversation to lighter areas.

  “Anyway, how is Bill? Let’s get back to that. Dare I ask – how’s it all going between you?”

  Susan holds Linda’s gaze for a moment, measuring how to respond. She knows that Linda is asking a searching question in the lightest way, so giving her the choice between a truthful and a more superficial response. Susan decides on saying it how it is.

  “He’s a nice man, Linda, and we are still wrapped up in each other most of the time. He is kind and attentive and thoughtful.” Susan finds these descriptions slowly, as if trying them on for the first time to see whether they really fit. “And, I have to say, the sex is good.” she adds, with a quick glance and grin at her friend.

  Linda says nothing except “but?” and smiles with an enquiring look, waiting for Susan to continue.

  “He wants us to move in together.”

  “Ah. And is that not what you want?”

  “Well, I’m not sure that it is. I should be thinking “yes!” but – well, I’m really doubtful. I suppose, if I’m honest, it’s partly Bill and partly me. I just don’t feel ready for the all-consuming attention he pours on me. I also don’t feel I’m ready to give that sort of commitment myself.”

  “Well, that’s pretty clear,” Linda says, wryly. “It sounds to me as if you are coming out of the madness and illness phase and beginning to look around you again.”

  “I suppose so,” muses Susan, reluctantly.” But if that’s so, I have to say that I’m sorry too. At the beginning, you know, I thought ‘this is it’. Now I’m thinking there must be something wrong with me.”

  “Nonsense,” Linda retorts abruptly. “You are only thirty-five, for God’s sake. You have the life of a careerist and you are a city girl – the modern woman in just about every respect. You of all people should know that there’s more to life than the perfect love.” She labours the last three words.

  Susan is silent, reflecting on what Linda has just said. And she realizes that she has been too silent for too long, thinking about being a careerist, as Linda has just described her. Is it always career or relationships, like two dichotomous options?

  “Are you disappointed about your feelings for Bill?” Linda probes.

  “No, not at all,” Susan protests and doubts her certainty as soon as she speaks. “You can’t feel for someone what you don’t feel for them,” she sighs. “I suppose, if I’m honest, I am more disappointed that I have never experienced that thing you refer to as the perfect love. No, I was thinking about how I came to be in the city. It’s been five years now, all with the T.V. Company. You would think I could have made a better job of my personal life. It seems so out of step with my professional persona. God, if the great public only knew.”

  Linda hesitates for a moment before replying, and keeps her eyes on her plate as she does so.

  “Susan, there really is no problem with your personal life. I envy you the spontaneity you can bring to a relationship. Don’t undermine the person you present as being on TV. It’s all you, you know.”

  Susan just laughs and lets Linda continue.

  “Anyway, three relationships in fifteen years is hardly a big deal. They were nice blokes, maybe with the exception of that Dave Ramsey - I never could fathom him out. Mind you, I only met him once or twice. And the way he’s been behaving since you and Bill got together, phoning you, driving round past the house - it’s very odd.”

  “I don’t know now what I was doing, seeing that appalling man,” Susan says with real contempt in her voice. “But it’s more than that,” she goes on, returning to the subject of Bill. “It would be good to be settled – I can’t think of anyone kinder than Bill. Any advice, Linda?” She laughs as she asks this, but Linda can see that she really wants to know what Linda thinks.

  “The old adages are the best. If in doubt, don’t. But then, you know what they say about advice.”

  Susan laughs and shrugs to change the subject.

  “Bring me up to date on what has been happening with you.”

  She braces herself for concentration. Linda is a professor of archaeology. Her preoccupations at the moment centre on a text that she is producing on the significance of recent archaeological excavations of an Iron Age village on an outer Hebridean island. Susan does her best to ask intelligent questions on a subject that they both know holds little interest for her.

  Later, over coffee, she enquires about Linda’s husband, Ken, and their children, but when she does so she realizes that Linda’s attention returns quickly to a planned excursion by the University Department to the excavation site in the summer recess.

  Half an hour later, when Susan feels that neither of them is going to take the conversation to any deeper or more interesting areas, she glances at her watch and begins to bring the evening to an end.

  It is dry enough outside now for them to agree to walk to the taxi rank. As they stroll, Linda slips an arm through Susan’s and reflects on the evening.

  “You know, it has been so good to spend time with you. Even when I’ve had a lousy day at work, it’s still important to me to have you to myself from time to time. But you and Bill should come over really soon and spend the day with the children and us. Why not make it one Sunday when you aren’t working?”

  “Agreed,” Susan smiles and gives her the usual woman-to-woman hug which was so well accepted in their social circles. As if as an afterthought, she ventures, “And, you know, Linda, when I do need to talk, it’s you I turn to.”

  She is the first to pull away from the taxi rank and she turns to wave, but her friend is occupied in giving directions to the driver who will take her in the opposite direction. For a split second, she thinks she recognises the outline of the man who emerges from the shadows of a shop doorway. But she dismisses the thought. It must be a trick of the mind. They have just mentioned Dave Ramsey and she is imagining things; that is all. Nevertheless, she feels herself shiver with a mix of distaste and fear.

  CHAPTER 2

  As she puts the frisson to the back of her mind and settles in the taxi, Susan thinks how true it is that she talks mainly to Linda. In a way, she talks with Bill about her relationship with him and the things that they share. But they now skirt around the questions of the future and whether it could become something more permanent. She recognizes that she has gone beyond the ‘here and now’ stage of being in love but that, almost inevitably, Bill will soon ask her to make a definite decision about moving in together. This keeps her avoiding topics that could lead them into this subject. With Linda, however, she has talked over the years about her relationships as she chooses, evaluating them, celebrating them and laughing at herself in them.

  She has, after all, known Linda since their London days. They were good pals then, their friendship growing and deepening when they met up again after Susan moved to the city. They bumped into each other again at a University function to which Susan was invited. Linda was recently appointed to the Archaeology Department. After that, it suited them both to coffee or supper together in the city, on their own, and away from Linda’s family commitments. Susan is not terribly interested in the domestic side to her friend’s life, other for observing the
courtesies.

  Despite their closeness, she never divulges too much about the intimate and sexual aspects of her relationships to Linda. Then again, this is a boundary that most women friends respect – at least while the relationship with the particular man lasts. Tonight, she did not want to delve too deeply into her feelings, sensing that she needed to protect herself from her own question – whether there is something wrong in not having made a fully committed relationship by this stage in her life. She comforts herself that, as Linda says, many women of her age are single and career-minded, and have changed men from time to time. The average age for marrying is, after all, increasing all the time.

  Susan’s taxi driver is the silent type, and she enjoys the few minutes for reflection. She always finds that an evening with Linda has this effect on her. At thirty-five, Susan has had a full and eventful life since leaving university. She was fired, at that time, by socialist and feminist ideals. Since then, her career has given her personal and professional freedoms shared by not many women of her generation. Well-educated and untrammelled by any strong religious conviction, she considers herself to have a basic set of values of good and bad, right and wrong which were inculcated by an agnostic, middle of the road professional family. After graduation, several of her friends were heading for teaching or professional secretarial courses. Her own instinct was that, ultimately, both of these routes would be dull, male dominated fields, and so, not for her. By marching on her intellect, she reasoned, she would compete on an equal basis in an unequal world.

  A career in television, she decided, was to be her route to this freedom of opportunity. Inspired by the notion of speaking for truth and for justice – or so she told the selection panel at interview – she was accepted for a post-graduate diploma course at a London School of Journalism.

  The taxi driver has to prompt her back from her thoughts. He has stopped, parallel to cars parked by the kerb and is aware from looking at her in his mirror that she is lost in her own thoughts. Vaguely embarrassed, she tips him well and alights. This is one area of the city where she feels reasonably safe at night. She lives in the western and smart neighbourhood only a mile or so from the centre, but already leafy and with enormous houses from a different era. Architect designed properties have in-filled many of the grounds of these impressive houses but the area still manages to retain its expensive look.