Page 16 of Out of Control

'Liza?' It wasn't anyone from Fleet Street, it was Bruno, sounding stiff and on edge.

'Bruno?' she asked, wondering if he had had a rough ride from his family. He probably had; he sounded upset. Poor Bruno, she thought, grimacing, perhaps he had been ordered to stop seeing her—was he ringing to tell her that?

'Who is he?' Bruno asked, the words shooting out of him like bullets, and she stiffened. 'What? Who?'

'The guy down there with you!' Bruno's voice was raw and she frowned, a pang of compassion shooting through her. He was jealous, he had been hurt. Liza wasn't in love with Bruno, but she was fond of him and she had been there—she knew how he was feeling. Love was a killer, it tracked you invisibly and pounced from high places when you weren't expecting it, like a tiger in the jungle, and like a savage animal it tore you limb from limb and you were helpless to save yourself. She should have warned him off long ago. She shouldn't have gone on seeing him, kidded herself that he was just a friend, it was platonic, he wouldn't get hurt any more than she would.

'It's a long story,' she said, trying not to sound guilty or defensive, although that was how she felt because she should never have encouraged him to think they might be anything but friends.

'Is he your lover?'

'No! Of course not, Bruno, and how did you hear about it, anyway? It only happened last night.' 'What did?' He sounded bewildered. 'The crash.'

'Crash?' His voice changed. 'What crash? Liza, are you hurt? What happened? I opened the papers this morning and there was a gossip item about you and some man staying at your cottage—a mystery man, they called him, the bastards, and there was some stuff about us, about you and me.' Bruno's voice deepened, roughened. Yes, he had been hurt, she recognised, sighing. 'So what's all this about a crash, and what's it got to do with this guy at your cottage?'

'He isn't, not any more.' Liza explained and Bruno listened, breathing audibly. She didn't know if he was believing her or not because she couldn't see his face, but when she paused for breath he spoke, sounding less distraught.

'Is he still there?' Bruno sounded suspicious even now and Liza sighed.

'No, he left early this morning. The garage came and towed his car away. I hope the bill isn't going to be too enormous, as I'm going to have to pay it.'

'Was it your fault? Can't you say it was all due to this fog?'

'Mist, river mist—and no, Bruno, I can't say that because it wasn't really true. I wasn't looking where I was going, I had too much on my mind."

'Yes,' he said with a groan, then asked, 'This guy . . . does he live near there?'

'I'm not sure. He looked like a farmer; muddy boots, shabby old clothes—but then he said he was a psychologist.'

'A psychologist! Sounds to me as if he was fantasising.'

Bruno sounded worried. 'You know, you should never have let him stay the night. You took an awful risk. He could be a dangerous lunatic'

'Well, he wasn't and he's gone now, so everything's OK.'

'No, it isn't,' Bruno gloomily told her. 'My mother read the gossip in the paper.'

'Oh, dear," Liza said weakly, an inadequate response to news that had clearly disturbed Bruno.

'She can be very unreasonable!' he said. 'Now I know

what happened, I can tell her about the mist and the crash, but...'

His voice trailed away hopelessly, and Liza could tell that he didn't think his mother would believe a single word of her story. 'Look, Liza, I've had an idea,' he said suddenly. 'If you and my mother could meet, she'd see what you're really like, and she'd stop believing everything she reads in the papers. What are you doing on Sunday afternoon?'

'I'll still be down here. Why?'

'Could you come back to London earlier than usual? On Sunday morning, for instance?'

'I suppose I could—why?'

'On Sunday afternoon we're going to watch a polo match at Windsor. Could you come?'

'Polo?' Liza was intrigued; she had never seen a game of polo. It could be fun, but if she turned up his family were going to believe it was serious between her and Bruno, and what was worse, Bruno would think so too and she did not want that. She did not want Bruno getting any more deeply involved with her; she had to start withdrawing from him, keeping her distance.

'I'm sorry, Bruno, I don't think that's a good idea,' she said. 'I've got to go, Bruno, sorry. I'll see you when I get back to town.'

She said goodbye and ignored his hurried, 'Liza, please come tomorrow, just for an hour.'

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