Liz Fielding - Reunited: Marriage in a Million

2007

THE car is here. Your paparazzi army are forming their usual guard of honour.

Ivo was waiting, his face expressionless. Waiting for her to back down, tell him that she wouldnt go, and Belle had to fight back the treacherous sting of tears.

She didnt cry, ever.

Why couldnt he understand? Why couldnt he see that she hadnt chosen to spend twelve days cycling over the Himalayas on some whim?

This was important to her. Something she needed to do.

By demanding she drop out at a moments notice to play hostess at one of his power-broking weekends at his country house in Norfolk, he was making it plain that nothing-not her career, certainly not some charity stunt-was as important as being his wife.

That he had first call on her.

If only she could have told him, explained. But if shed done that, he wouldnt want her to stay

I have to go, she said.

For a moment she thought he was going to say something, but instead he nodded, picked up the heavy rucksack that contained everything she would need for the next three weeks and reached for the door handle.

By the time the door was open, Belle was wearing a smile for the cameras. She paused briefly on the step with Ivo at her side, then they made their way to the car.

The chauffeur took the rucksack and, while he was stowing it, Ivo took her hand, looked down at her with grave eyes that never betrayed what he was thinking.

Look after yourself.

Ivo She stopped herself from begging him to come to the airport with her. Ill be passing through Hong Kong on my way home. If you happened to find you had some business there, maybe we could take a few days

He made no comment-he never made promises he could not keep-but simply kissed her cheek, helped her into the car, repeating his directive to take care before closing the door. She turned as the car pulled away, but he was already striding up the steps to the house, wanting to get back to work.

The chauffeur stopped at the airport drop-off point, loaded her bag on to a trolley, wished her good luck, and then she was alone. Not alone, as a woman with a loving husband waiting at home might feel.

Justalone.

SO THATSit for Day Nine of the Great Cycling Adventure. Tomorrow Im told its going to be a gentle, undulating rise Belle Davenport wiped away a trickle of sweat on her sleeve and smiled into the camera. These guys really have a sense of humour. If seeing me sweating and in pain in a good cause is making you feel good, feel bad, feel anything, please remember any donation you make, no matter how small, will make a real difference

Belle Davenport wrapped up for the camera, hit send and, as soon as shed got a reply confirming it had been safely received, unplugged her satellite phone. It was only then that she realised that what she had thought was sweat was, in fact, blood.

You do know that he brought you down quite deliberately. Claire Mayfield, an American sharing her tent, as well as her pain, was outraged.

He helped me up again, Belle pointed out.

Only after hed taken pictures. You should make a complaint to the organisers. You could have been seriously hurt.

No whining allowed, she said, then winced as Simone Gray-the third member of their group-having cleaned up the graze on her forehead, started to work on her grazed thigh.

Sorrynearly done. Then, tossing the wipe away and applying a dressing, said, In this world, Claire, it isnt enough for the media that youre putting yourself through seven kinds of torture to raise money for street kids. They want you down in the dirt too. Simone was executive editor of an Australian womens magazine. She knew what she was talking about.

Glamour, excitement, sleazebags with cameras waiting to catch you with your face in the mud, Belle confirmed, with a wry smile.

In London, okay, Claire persisted. Then, Actually, its not okay, but I suppose in your business you learn to live with the intrusion. But halfway up the Himalayas?

Are we only halfway up? It feels higher. Then, shaking her head, Belle said, Simones right, Claire. Its all part of the game. No complaints. Ive been at the top of my particular tree for a long time. I guess its my turn to be set up as an Aunt Sally and knocked off.

Set up?

Put in a position where not to do it would have made me look mean-spirited, all mouth and no trousers, so to speak. The kind of television personality who encourages others to do the hard work while she sits back on the breakfast telly sofa, flashing her teeth and as much cleavage as the network can get away with at that time in the morning.

Youre not like that.

No?

No!

Belle had gone for arch, but found herself profoundly touched by Claires belief in her.

Well, maybe not this time, she admitted, smiling to herself as she remembered just how easy it had been to manipulate the people who thought they were pulling the strings. Its amazing how far acting dumb will get you.

Sowhat? You really wanted to come?

Shh! She lifted a finger to her lips. The walls of tents have ears. She grinned. All it took was, If we sent someone for this charity cycle ride it would make a great feature. Lots of opportunities to address a real problem. Get the public to join in with sponsorship. An idle, Who could we send?, accompanied by just the tiniest shiver of horror at the thought, for the director to get ideas about how much the media would enjoy seeing me getting sweaty and dirty on a bike. The publicity it would generate. Got to think of those ratings

For Belle the pain was well worth the extra publicity it would generate for a cause dear to her heart, enabling her to support it publicly without raising any questions about why she cared so much.

Knowing that she was the one pulling the strings didnt take the sting out of her thigh, though. And out here, in the rarefied air of the mountains, spending her time with people whod financed themselves, who were doing it without any of the publicity circus that inevitably surrounded a breakfast show queen putting herself at the sharp end of fund raising, she was beginning to feel like a fraud. The kind of celebrity whod do anything to stay in the spotlight, the kind of woman whod put up with anything to stay in a hollow marriage, because without them shed be nothing.

She pushed away the thought and said, If you think this is about the children, rather than ratings, Claire, you are seriously overestimating the moral probity of breakfast television.

It was the ratings grabbing report-to-camera straight from the days ride-the never-less-than-immaculate Belle Davenport reduced to a dishevelled, sweaty puddle-that the company wanted and the media were undoubtedly relishing. Why else would they have sponsored one of their own to come along and take pictures? But after a week it seemed that honest sweat had got old; now they wanted blood and tears too.

Today theyd got the blood and no doubt that was the image that would be plastered over tomorrows front pages and, when she got home, shed shame them into a very large donation to her cause for that.

No way in hell were they going to get her tears.

She did not cry.

Thats Claire grinned. Thats actually pretty smart.

It takes more than blonde hair and a well-developed chest to stay at the top in television, Simone pointed out. Then, regarding her thoughtfully, she went on, So the street kids get the money, the spotlight on their plight, the television company get the ratings. What are you getting out of it, Belle?