Chapter 44

Christian stood at the door of his apartment, looking better than he ever looked all that week. The colour had returned on his face, there was light in his stare. The edges of his lips curled up and gave them a happy smile.

"I thought it was time to go out love." He said to her and closed the door behind him. "The walk did me the world of good."

Mrs. Brown wiped her hands on her apron and approached Christian.

"It is really nice to see you doing so well again Mr. Blake." She said to him with an equally wide smile.

"Thank you very much Mrs. Brown." He said. "I am sorry I left my place in such a mess." He apologised with an embarrassed look in his face.

"Oh, nothing that I hadn't seen before!" She said and dismissed his words with a move of her hand. They all looked around the main room in Christian's flat. It was almost unrecognisable, being clean and tidy. The summer breeze that blew in from the open windows had removed all the stuffiness and the smell of paint and turpentine that had filled the rooms. Mrs. Brown removed her apron. "I think your apartment is ready for you to move back in Mr. Blake."

"I cannot thank you enough Mrs. Brown." He said, and took his wallet out. Five minutes later, having said their goodbyes, he turned to Rose.

"Alone again." He said to her and looked at her as if she was a prey. He made a couple of slow steps towards her. She let a soft yell and laughed as he pounced and chased her towards his bedroom. They fell on his bed and tasted her lips and her mouth in a deep kiss. "I see you took on my bedroom as your "tidying project"." He said to her with a hoarse voice, her green eyes smiling to him as she was still imprisoned between his arms.

"You're in high spirits Christian." She noticed. "Was the walk that good?"

He let her go and fell back with his back on the bed's mattress. He slipped both hands behind his head and fixed his stare on her face as she had pulled herself up, still sitting on the bed.

"It was!" He said with enthusiasm. "I walked and without planning it, I headed for the Haymarket theatre."

"What?!" She pulled her body back, looking surprised. "You didn't walk all the way to Haymarket?!"

"Oh! No, no, no! After a while I took a taxi love!" He explained. "Weather is wonderful!" His eyes travelled inside those green lakes of hers. "I went to see Terry..." He said and kept quiet for a moment.

To the name of Terry, she sprung up from the bed as if she had been stung by a bee. "What...?" She said looking puzzled. "Why...?" She saw Christian pulling himself up, supporting his body on his elbows. Question marks flashed equally in his eyes. She calmed down when she saw the expression on his face. "I meant...I had to push you to apologise to him in the hospital, and you weren't all that happy for him being with us all the time." She said and paced in the room.

She hadn't expected to hear Christian to say that. It wasn't only the announcement from his part that he had gone to see Terry but regarding how she and Terry had parted ways on Monday, what had been Terry's reaction, she wondered. To that particular thought, the skin on her arms broke into goosebumps. She turned and left the bedroom, headed toward the kitchen.

"I'll make some tea...do you want some tea?" She asked Christian who was still half propped up on the bed, feeling like scratching his head, baffled by Candy's reaction. He got up.

"I'm fine Rose, don't feel like having tea." He said back. "I did go to see him because he just fell from the face of the earth." He commented.

"Well, the play has started Christian, he's a busy man." She counter argued.

He nodded. "That's true...but even so." He said back and sat down on the sofa, following with his eyes her coming and going behind the kitchen top, lighting up the stove to boil some water for tea. "Weren't you who kept saying about how much he had done for me?"

She turned, with her kettle on her hand and wide eyes on her face. "I did! Because that was the courtesy. He did help you, I won't deny it."

"He seems like a caring guy Rose!" Christian said. "He even came all the way to Camden town to check up on you after the premiere..." He added while he was rolling a cigarette. There was the thud of the iron kettle put on the hot plaque of the stove. He waited for her response. She took a moment to calm her breathing down.

"I think he is overly courteous. And he worried I guess, you were stabbed remember?" She said while staring at the kettle, having not turned to look at Christian.

"I suppose so..."

"Anyway, I felt like I owed him and he's an interesting fellow." He continued. "I asked him out for a pint and game of poker on Sunday night, his night off."

Her heart jumped inside her chest. It was hot all of a sudden. She felt the sweat at the roots of her hair. She poured the boiling water inside the tea pot. It was one thing for them to go out altogether socially and another for just the two of them to go out. Although Terry hadn't given any signs of behaving impulsively, what had happened on Monday between them and actually what happened between them on Saturday night, had changed a lot of things. If she had to put hand on heart, she had lost her trust on him. What if he was to say the wrong thing? What if Christian realised the he had a hidden agenda? Did he have a hidden agenda? There were a lot of things between them, they actually hadn't discussed. They hadn't the time, the circumstances weren't right, the times they were alone had been so few.

"Am I not invited then?" She asked and turned with the teapot and the tea brewed and ready to pour in the teacup. She hoped she didn't look too flustered.

He took the last deep drag from the cigarette before stabbing it out. "You want to come to the pub with us?" He sounded surprised.

"I don't know..." She said, while pouring the tea. "I may want to...We haven't been at the pub together for a while..." She tried her best to sound as nonchalant as possible about it but the truth was that even if she had no desire to meet with Terry, she preferred to be around them two, just in case. "I could ask Marion...you know how she's into Terry..."

He laughed. "Why are you laughing?" She asked him, sipping at the tea.

"Somehow, I hadn't imagined you as a match maker Rose." He replied. "Especially to someone like Marion..." He added.

The tea felt hot on her throat and she started coughing. "Oh! I give up Christian!" She said when she managed to speak again, having tears in her eyes. "If you have planned to have a blokes night out, go ahead."

"I didn't say that!" Christian protested. He got up. Rose had made a big deal of the whole thing. "You know what...we can figure this out later ok?"

She didn't respond. She still felt nervous about it inside but there was nothing more to say, without making more fuss than what the normal would be.

"You could join us with Marion for a spot of dinner?" He suggested.

"We could do...let's see how we are on Sunday...Perhaps I'll just join Audrey to go out dancing." She added.

"On your own?" He asked, while shoving his hands inside his pockets.

"Yes, on my own...is there a problem?"

Christian didn't like the course this discussion was taking. "Are we going to argue about what we'll be doing on Sunday night...?" He asked her, feeling frustrated.

They looked at each other without Rose answering his question. "You know...we'll sort it out on the day ok?" She said, still sipping tea while standing up behind the kitchen bench.

"OK, let's do that." Christian replied. He took his watch out. It was close to 4pm.

"Do you have somewhere to go?" She asked him.

"I was thinking of passing by the Gallery. I haven't been for more than a week." Christian said.

That was true. Although he physically didn't need to be there, it was always nice for the artist to pass by, to speak to people that may had been there, visiting to see his paintings. Perhaps someone would want to buy a painting. A few had already been sold and he had been quite ecstatic about it.

"Will we meet later on?" She asked him.

"I'll pass by your house to pick up my things...we can go for dinner if you want."

Having agreed for him to pass by her place at 7pm, they kissed and he left. She let her body fall back on the sofa. In the quietness of the empty apartment, she could hear her heart thumbing inside her chest. That plan between Terry and Christian to have a blokes' night out unnerved her to put it mildly. Men, secrets and alcohol don't bond together well.

On that Friday, to everyone's surprise, most folk at the troupe thought that Terry was turning to be a very popular guy. For someone who was notoriously private and hardly had any personal visits at the theatre back home in New York, now it felt like there was a queue of people wanting to see him. The bets flew behind his back, just like the gossip. Who were all those people and what was that Terry had done to them?

By Friday midday, two men had knocked the door of his dressing room. One the night before, and the second while everyone, apart from some theatre staff, were on their lunch break. Neither had stayed overly long but their visits were enough to put Terry in deep thoughts while the keen eyes of Robert followed him around. John was amused by Robert's chaperoning ways but the rest of the troupe knew of what potentially lethal - to the Hamlet production that is - ticking bomb, Terry could be. So who were those men and why did they want to see Terry? Had Terry seduced their sisters, wives perhaps?

In New York, Terry had been very discreet over his affairs, which they had been a few over those last ten years, and even though he took great care to liaise with women who were unattached to any other man, there had been occasions - though very rare that had to be said - but there had been those very rare and odd occasions where an angry man who call to see Terry for a "personal" matter. In those occasions, Robert had run to play the role of the firefighter to extinguish whatever fire Terry's charms had started. Truth be told, Terry himself was straight to the point and honest as a clear day. He would apologise for the lack of acknowledging prior that there was a man in the life of the woman he had flirted with - those women had done very well to hide it also - and with that, he would promise to cut any ties with those women, which he did promptly.

So the rest of his colleagues were wondering along the same lines. Terry must had set his eyes to some woman. However, ...which woman was that, became even muddier, on that afternoon.

The young guy who had given the instructions to Christian where to find Terrence Graham, scratched his head when he saw Marion walking down the corridor with a determined spring in her step, her pleated skirt swinging on her calves like the bells of the Westminster church.

"Is Terry here?" She had asked him.

"Are you kidding me lady?" He replied.

She passed him by, without stopping to hear the answer, already on a course she had predetermined. A meeting with the man who had dropped from the face of the earth and her life since Monday evening. She had been skittish and provocative more than the etiquette of good behaviour allowed for single young women, but so what? Shouldn't she show him what he made her feel? For a couple of days she had felt a mix of embarrassment and nervousness she had done something that had offended him, given that there was thunder and lightning inside the azure blue of his eyes. But the more he was a no show, the more her embarrassment was dispersing like the morning fog under the warmth of the sun.

Not only that, but her friend Rose was playing house with Christian and had not left the house for days. Even if her first thought was that her disappearance was related with Terry's own vanishing - she had noticed how the air would turn dense when the two of them were close - after she had showed in front of her door the next day and saw her shrugging her shoulders, while she was ignorant of her own shenanigans at the premiere, she had discussed it with Audrey and they had come to the conclusion that there was nothing going on between their friend Rose and Terry. Terry had just been a handsome eccentric and Rose just overwhelmed with Christian's success, not to mention everything that took place after. Hadn't they forgotten she was his Muse for the Scarlet Rose? One of the most, if not the most provocative paintings of the year...

In any case, by Friday morning, Marion woke up with ants in her pants. She bounced out of the bed and by lunch break she was on her usual route to the theatre. She had to see him. At least if she saw him from up close, the mystery of why he hadn't given any signs of life all those days would be resolved.

She already knew her way to the changing rooms. When she arrived there was no one there and the door was wide open. She wasn't going to leave, having made all this way for nothing. She turned, walked back the corridor till she arrived to a spiral iron staircase on her left hand. She stopped and looked up. Took a deep breath and climbed the stairs.

A whole commotion was happening back stage. There were people working on the set, inspecting any wear and tear. Fixing anything that may had been broken. Actors already in costume were either in groups, having a char or alone, going through their lines. Robert was in conversation with John about some of his lines on the play. As he turned his face, he saw the young woman. Recognised who she was. And he knew straight away why she was there.

"Isn't she the daughter of Edward Lewis?" John asked who had also turned to the direction that Robert was looking.

"Yes." Robert said and pressed his lips. "Terry needs some talking" He added.

The realisation of why the young woman was there, flashed inside John's eyes. "But of course! She's here for Terrence!"

"Yes and all that coming and going of people wanting to see him has been getting out of hand." Robert said. Before he even took another breath, he shouted Terry's name. Dressed in his black costume, he was at the back of the stage, hidden at the corner, directly opposite from where Marion was standing. He had been in conversation with the props manager about some of the props missing. Actors had not been careful and were placing their swords and knives wherever they stood once the performance was finishing. He lifted his head to the sound of his name and looked towards the direction of Robert. At the same time, Marion came inside his field of view. He felt the heat on his face. Just as he had started calming down from Christian's visit, she had appeared. He was still quite crossed with her. Although it hadn't been her fault, he recognised that. But he had to put a stop to it. He excused himself and walked towards her way.

"You and I need to talk." Robert said to him as he passed in front of him.

"Leave him be Rob." John said. "His blood carries passion still, he's young."

"There is too much passion sometimes though John..." Robert turned to face John.

Terry hadn't commented on Robert's remark. Instead with wide strides, he reached Marion in no time.

"Come with me, Marion." He said to her before she managed to even say hello. His voice was low and left no room for anything else to be said. He took her by the hand and started walking with a pace that she found challenging to follow. They left the auditorium at the ground floor under the curious stares of everyone there. Robert had to shout to bring them to the present and back to what they had been doing.

Once out, his grip relaxed a little but he never left her hand. They went up the stairs to the first floor - the Grant Circle - and then another wide side staircase up the second floor - the Balcony. They entered the seat rows there. Picked the highest one and brought her to a halt.

"Sit." He ordered her.

He had made her nervous, truth be said. She hadn't expected such reaction from him. She was prepared for some glaring looks, some stern words. But not been dragged two floors up and sat down like she was going to face the Holy Inquisition. He was still standing when she sat down. She lifted her head, and turned to face him.

"You know Terry, I." She started saying.

"All that game that you're playing with me Marion." He said without leaving her to continue with what she was about to say, "I don't like." He hadn't sat down. Instead he paced back and forth on the narrow space between the rows. Marion's eyes were following his pacing. Disappointment having descended on them. Even some remorse.

"I'm sorry..." She said, her eyes moving from side to side in their sockets, tracing Terry's steps.

He wasn't looking at her. His eyes were firmly on the floor he covered with his pacing, his hands resting on his hips. If she was younger, she'd thought he was like the schoolmaster. She tried not to smile. That would have been disastrous. For her especially.

"It's not your fault." He continued. "You...you..." He added trying to find the words. "You are what you are..." He said in the end.

"Wait a minute!" She stopped him by grabbing his arm. He stopped walking. He fixed his eyes on her face. They were angry.

"Terry you make me dizzy." She confessed. The glare inside his stare intensified. "What I am?" She asked. She hadn't liked the last phrase from him. The vagueness but also the disapproval in it, the talking down. "What do you mean...I am what I am?" She asked. She had stretched her neck up, by just having to stare at him, since he hadn't sat down. "And please sit down, I'll dislocate my neck that way."

He took a deep breath, and sat down. The determination hadn't left his eyes though. "Marion you are a lovely lass, sassy and intelligent but no one has said no to you before...Am I right to assume that?" He said in a low voice, wanting not to be heard far. "You live a privileged life and you go partying, dancing with your pals and men parade in front of you and you just pick whomever."

She remained there, looking at him talking, more like giving her a lecture, but she waited to let him finish.

"I like your company...but I am not like the other guys you play with." He added. "I'm not interested in girls who chase." His eyes searched hers, wondering whether she was getting the message, the way they looked wide and expressionless. "Whatever you think as a game for you, it is not my cup of tea." He couldn't have made it clearer to her.

"That is what you think of me...that I am a fluffy kind of girl?" She asked. The expectation of his answer coloured her cheeks red. From what he had already said, she knew what his answer would be, even if he didn't spell it right out.

"I don't judge you Marion." Terry said feeling frustrated. Whatever she was starting to get wound up about, he wanted to cut from the bud. This was also true. Whether she wanted to play with men, whether she preferred them as toys, having a different one every month, who warmed her up in bed, it wasn't his concern. "Your life is your life."

"I'm not an easy girl, Terry!" She raised her voice, the anger turning evident inside her eyes.

"I didn't say you were!" He defended his previous words. This talk he wanted to have with her, wasn't going to be as straight forward as he had hoped.

"You are offended by showing you how much I like you then?" She asked, moistness gathering in her stare.

He reached the end of his tether. He brought his hands up and covered the sides of her face while his eyes bore down onto hers. How could he drill into that brain of hers, that he wasn't impressed by the way she flirted with him? Stormy seas were reflected in his eyes.

"Stop making it something it ain't. I don't like you kissing me whenever you fancy and I don't like you grabbing my thigh whenever you think it'll be fun to do so, ok?" He asked her. Her cheeks felt hot under the palms of his hands. "How can I make myself more clear, Marion?" He implored her.

She understood quite well. Resignation rose in her eyes who looked a degree colder than before.

"I apologise, Terry." She said with a flat voice. "I understand what you mean." She looked down, preferring not to face him again. The sensation of his hands over her face still quite intense, as he removed them. He lifted her chin up, forcing her to see him.

"I like you Marion." He said. "You make me laugh...in a good way, ok?" He added just to avoid further misunderstandings. "Can we take this friendship slow...and see where it may lead?" He asked her.

She ached for a kiss from him but she was sure he wasn't going to give it to her. How could she show him, he was making her do insane things? She remembered their previous chat, at the premiere. Love driving men to insanity. But was it love or infatuation? Terry came in her life at a time, she was growing bored out of her mind with the men in London and the never ending partying...but what else was out there than to enjoy life to the max? The ghosts of the Great War weren't far away. She at the time, as well as her generation were much younger but still they lived through the death and the destruction it brought to everyone. And if death was all that awaited them in the end, if everyone had the same path in life, a one-way journey with a pre-determined destination, what was out there for them to do?

While those thoughts swam in her mind, he took her hand in his and kissed it. A friendship kiss.

"Yes...I can do that Terry." She said with a quiet voice. Perhaps friendship could be a better way to start with him. A different approach for such a different man. It could work, she thought, and that positive thought brought a smile in her lips. Terry smiled too, glad she understood. He felt better for it. If he could work things with Candy as easy as he did with Marion...

She had left his apartment not long after he had headed for the Gallery. After spending not more than ten minutes staring at the ceiling of his living room, she sprang up, having decided what to do. Jumped to the first taxi available she found...

It was hard to believe the change that Terry had caused inside her from the weekend where he had left her mesmerised with his kiss and not only that - he had been the perfect gentleman to her, caring and thoughtful. She got to spent time with him and marvel to how mature he had become and she had to pinch herself that he had entered her life again. She could just about function those days without daydreaming...to her utter guilt and to Christian's satisfaction, she yarned for Terry's presence, even the slightest touch from him made her head spin, and she had to hide all that inside the kisses Rose was giving to Christian.

By Monday night, Terry had torn down everything his previous behaviour had built. He had labelled her an easy girl when drunk, he hated what she had become and not only that, he had created this tension between them which he hadn't really cared to hide, a tension that Marion had noticed. He flirted without shame, and so provocatively with Marion, they could well be in a bedroom, rather than the theatre. The last thing she had seen was his hand grasping at her fingers. She had been caressing his thigh and even had sighed...

She hadn't stayed to see anything else, despite Archie telling her that Terry looked angry. Did she care? She had left her previous life in order to heal her wounds from her break with him, to learn how to live. And he had showed up like a hurricane after so long... As she run towards the hospital, she hated him for the chaos he brought inside her heart and mind. Even after Christian's question about Terry's whereabouts and why he had stopped showing up, she had no desire to see him. She wanted to put some emotional distance before she even attempted to be in the same room with him. That didn't stop her wonder of how he was, or what he was doing. The play's reviews had been well established and it was the talk of the town. So at least there was something that was going well. Had he seen Marion again? She did wonder, even if she tried immediately to dismiss it as female curiosity. He could meet with any woman, he was a free man. Though the feeling of his lips on hers still persisted and that made her even madder with him.

So given all the above, how she felt those past few days about Terry, one could say that standing in front of the theatre with the intention to go in, was a very bad idea but she had to talk to him. If Sunday was to be a night between blokes, she didn't want to insist for her to be present. Christian already had raised his brows, looking baffled so...She had to bite the bullet. In she went, with just a deep breath in her lungs. Waves of nervousness twisted her stomach and went up her spine but there was no turning back. She would have to face him and ask him what were his intentions for Sunday.

On the corridor, she passed by two men. They had already been dressed for the play. She recognised them from the play. It was Horatio and Prince Fortinbras.

"Are you here for Terry I presume?" One of them asked her.

"Yes." She said with a nervous smile. "Is he in his dressing room?" She asked.

"Indeed he is." The other man said. She thanked them and headed towards the dressing rooms.

The moment she made a couple of steps, she could tell they were trying - unsuccessfully at that - to drown their laughter. Apparently, she had come second...how many women Terry had started to be involved with in London, they wondered. She already knew...

He was already dressed in his fitted all-black costume when she opened the door. He had replied to her knock with a stern voice, warning if there was someone else wanting to see him, to send them away. He had enough. But she was there. No turning back. She came in.

Despite a brief spark of surprise in his eyes, his stare turned cold, and even annoyed. He started picking things here and there, tidying them up. There was no clearer message to tell her he didn't want her there.

"I'm busy, Rose..." He said without stopping. He wasn't even looking at her.

"Rose?" She asked him. It had been an honest question. He never called her Rose when it was the two of them, without any else around. He stopped for a minute, while his eyes were still fixed down to the floor.

"Rose...Candy...whatever...you choose." He said and resumed his previous tidying.

"I see..." She said. Her hands gripped harder at the wee bag she was holding.

"Was Marion here...?" That was one question she hadn't planned to ask, nor did she want to ask, but it came out from her lips and she bit them the second she heard herself ask.

What the heck was wrong with me?

He shot her with his eyes. She saw the shadows of sleepless nights under them. The frown between them deepened. The blue inside his eyes had become more intense.

"I don't think it's any of your business of whether or not Marion was here, Candy..."

He was right. This as with everything else in his life, was not of her business.

"If Marion is the reason behind your visit let me save us both the time and suggest that you leave...I'm very busy..."

"I came here because of Christian." She blurt the words out. She was getting worked up too about his attitude. She was the one on the right and he was behaving as if she was some neurotic woman with jealousy issues.

He left the books he was holding down and folded his arms across his chest. "Ah, our dear Christian..." He commented with evident the sarcasm in every word that came out of his mouth.

She let the sarcastic tone in his voice pass over her. Though she could feel the heat inside her eyes as they stung while she opened and closed her eyelids over them. She should have expected that kind of attitude from him. It was exactly that attitude, his inability to talk calmly when the feelings run riot, that worried her about Sunday. She knew she had wounded his ego by closing the door on his face.

"I've heard he invited you for a Sunday pint and a visit to the poker house."

He knew what she was going to say next but let her say it, having been certain that it would be awkward for her to say. Right now, if he could put her walk through burned coal, he would. Anything to make it difficult for her, as difficult it had been for him to come to terms she had rejected his apology.

He thus remained silent. She hesitated for a moment, as if balancing on a tight rope. Should she go on and say it, should she keep it to herself and hope he'd behave.

"Could you please behave and be..."

"Normal?" He saved her say the last word.

She nodded. He unfolded his hands and placed them on his hips. "Are you scared that I may say something to Christian about us?"

"Am I irrational to think you'd do that, Terry?" She said back to him, with a little bit more strength in her voice.

He smiled but there was nothing jolly in that smile of his. "Does your lover know, you trust him that much that you run to your ex to beg him not to say anything that can ruin it for you...?"

She remained speechless. If she had to be completely honest, Terry was right. So what if he was to say things about them...even if he mentioned that damn kiss even that had ruined everything. Didn't she trust Christian and the love they shared to overcome any obstacles such as an awkward revelation from Terry's part?

"You know what Candy?" Terry said all of a sudden. "You can sleep in peace; I won't say anything to ruin your lover's dream..." He added.

"His dream?" She asked back, not knowing whether to feel relief with his answer or anger.

"His dream that everything is hunky-dory between him and you."

"What?" She asked, recoiling, her body tensing as she was up standing all the while, since Terry hadn't asked her to sit down.

"I may not say a thing on Sunday but it's you who's not honest..."

She felt the breathing hot in her nostrils. It had been such a Terry expertise to turn the tables every time she wanted to face him about something.

"I won't stay to listen to any illusions you have in your head." She said back.

"Go on then" He raised his voice. "Run again."

She headed to the door.

"And God forbid if I kiss you again, you'll lock yourself with Christian to fuck his brains for a week just to forget about how you felt that night..."

She stopped; stayed with her feet glued to the floor.

"How dare you! What I felt that night?...You know what I felt that night Terry?" She asked him with her fists clenched by the sides of her body. Her voice was trembling, trying to control the feelings that were rushing through her body like electricity.

"I felt nothing! Not a single damn thing!"

She stood with her back to him when she said those lies. She couldn't lie while looking at him. He would know she was not speaking the truth. Her words tore her apart, but there were all hers. She wasn't going to yield to his anger, despite what he had said with such harshness, had been the truth. It felt like a knife carving her inside.

She opened the door and left him behind. She wasn't going to turn. At least to leave with her head held up high. She closed the door and walked down the corridor. The emerald forests in her eyes on fire. Everyone had gone up to the stage. She was relieved that no one was there to witness the turmoil on her face. She passed the spiral staircase that led to the stage on the left and continued. She could hear the commotion. She heard the loud banging sound of a door closing far behind her. Hurried strides closing in. His hand closed around her left arm in a grip she was unable to get away. She was pulled back. His free hand grabbed her right arm, forcing her to turn and face him full on.

"Look at me." He said, with a strained voice. She was refusing him. He shook her. "Look at me!" He said again, ordering her. The corridor was so narrow and his body felt like it was filling all the free space there was. He took a step and she was pinned between his arms and her back on the wall. There was no other way but to look at him. She wouldn't be able to forget how wounded his stare to her, looked. She knew his control was hanging from just a thread.

His eyes searched inside hers. Trying to find the truth in what she had said to him. Just then he took her lips and her mouth in a violent kiss, as violent as the burst of a tropical torrential storm where the pent up energy stored after days of drought is released from the skies. She fought him, tensing her body and her mouth, but it was impossible to resist the feelings that swelled into rivers, flash flooding her whole being under his weight. Her defences collapsed. She gave in, giving herself with as much fervour in kissing him back. He released his grip. He whispered her name. His fingers were lost inside her hair, around her neck while she gripped his shirt. Chasing her heartbeat, chasing her breath. She felt grateful for the lack of space. His tongue explored her mouth with a hunger of a love that had not stopped burning for ten years. Her knees trembled, they could buckle at any time. He realised. His hand went down on the curve, low down at her waist. He pulled her onto him. She could feel his breathing on his chest. She was losing the world. She was swallowing his breath. Her tears. They heard someone shouting his name. Her heart beat felt fast and furious on her throat.

He stopped and looked at her with eyes burning. "Tell me you feel nothing for me...Tell me and I'll leave you alone."

There were footsteps down the spiral case. "Terry!" The shouts came from Robert and were more pressing. He cursed though his teeth. "Wait for me...please..." He whispered to her and walked towards Robert who was half way down the stairs. They both disappeared back on the stage.

"I'm sorry Terry...I can't..." She said to herself without having any breath left. Tears streaming down her cheeks. She hurried down the corridor, with his words still echoing in her mind over and over again like a broken record and her lips feeling numb from the force of his kiss. Problem was that he had been right all along and even if she refused with all her strength to admit it, as brutal as Terry's way was, he had managed to make her admit it to herself. She had feelings for him.