The Angel Tree (31 page)

‘Of course not!’ Cheska’s years of experience in front of the camera came into play and she managed to look suitably horrified.

‘Well, that’s something. Men are strange creatures, you know. I’m sure Bobby isn’t like that, of course, but you need to be aware that some of them are only after one
thing. I know the world has changed, but it’s still best to wait a while, until you’re absolutely sure.’

‘Of course, Mummy.’

‘You will tell me, won’t you, if Bobby asks you to sleep with him?’

Cheska blushed and lowered her eyes. ‘Yes.’

‘We’ve never really discussed the facts of life, but I suppose you know by now how everything . . . works. And what can happen if you’re not careful. If anything . . . happened
to you, it could destroy your future. Come and sit next to me, darling.’ She patted the sofa next to her and folded her arms around her daughter as she stroked her hair. ‘I remember my
first love well. I don’t think you ever forget.’

‘Bobby said something like that. Who was yours?’

‘He was an American officer, over here in London during the war. I was devastated when he left, thought I’d never get over it. Of course, I did, in time. Uncle David helped me a
lot.’

‘Do you love David? You used to see him all the time and now you don’t.’

‘Yes, I do, Cheska, we’ve known each other a very long time. But we’re also great friends, which is very important too.’

‘Like a brother, you mean?’

‘I suppose so, yes. To be honest, men and I have never seemed to be a good combination. They’ve caused me more problems than they’ve given me happiness. Love is a very strange
thing, Cheska. It can change your life, make you do things that, in the cold light of day, you’d know were wrong.’

‘The madness of love,’ murmured Cheska. ‘That’s Bobby’s new song.’

‘And I hope you can understand that I don’t want to see you tread the same path as I did. Fall in love by all means, but always keep something for yourself. Forge your own future,
without depending on a man. Now, I think it’s time you went to bed.’

Cheska sat up. ‘Thank you, Mummy, for being so . . . understanding. I’m sorry I lied to you.’

‘I know, darling. I just want you to remember that I’m your friend, not your enemy. And I’m always here if there’s something you want to talk about.’

Cheska hugged Greta impulsively. ‘I love you, Mummy.’

‘And I love you, too. Now, off to bed with you.’

‘Goodnight, then.’ She rose from the sofa.

‘Oh, by the way, our passports arrived this morning, and Leon is organising the visas for America. It’ll be exciting to visit Hollywood, won’t it?’

‘Yes,’ Cheska answered half-heartedly.

‘Goodnight, darling, and don’t forget to take your tablet.’

‘I won’t.’

Greta watched her daughter walk slowly out of the room. She closed her eyes, in relief, feeling calmer than she had for weeks. It was imperative that Cheska trusted her. When the relationship
with Bobby Cross ended, as Greta knew it would, she’d be there to pick up the pieces. It would be she to whom Cheska would turn for comfort. And her daughter would come back to her, where she
belonged.

After Cheska had flushed the tablet down the lavatory, she lay in bed thinking about what her mother had said. It was the most grown-up conversation she’d ever had with
her. She smiled. Rather than tearing them further apart, Bobby had brought them closer together. She liked the thought of that. And she was sure that when they married, even though she would have
to live with Bobby, there was no reason why her mother couldn’t be a big part of their future.

One part of the conversation disturbed her, though.

‘Always keep something for yourself . . .’

She sighed and turned over. That was something she couldn’t do. Bobby had all of her. If he asked her tomorrow to give up her career and move with him to the other side of the world,
she’d go willingly.

Bobby Cross was her destiny. He owned her, body and soul.

On Sunday evening Cheska went down with the same stomach bug that had affected the actress playing her mother in the film. She spent most of the night in the bathroom being
violently ill.

At seven o’clock on Monday morning, as she lay in bed feeling weak and wretched, Greta came into her bedroom.

‘I’ve called Charles and told him you’re far too poorly to work today. He sends his love and told me to tell you not to worry. They can shoot around you for the next couple of
days.’

‘Oh, but—’ Cheska’s eyes filled with tears at the thought of not seeing Bobby for another forty-eight hours.

‘There, there, darling. Could you manage to take your tablet?’ Greta offered it to her daughter with a glass of water.

Cheska shook her head and turned away miserably.

Greta arranged her covers and swept her matted hair back from her forehead. ‘Try to get some sleep now, darling. I’m sure this’ll pass as quickly as it came.’

The following day Cheska was feeling better and on Wednesday she told her mother she was well enough to go back to work.

‘But you haven’t eaten anything for the past two days. I think you should stay in bed another day at least.’

‘No, Mummy, I’m going. The shoot’s due to wrap on Friday and they’ve already had to change the schedule because of me. I’m a pro, remember? That’s what
you’ve taught me.’

Greta couldn’t disagree, so Cheska got out of bed and dressed. However ghastly she felt physically, the strain of going another day without seeing Bobby was far worse. She wondered how she
would possibly cope when filming finished and she no longer saw him every day.

She staggered through the day’s shoot, feeling dizzy and faint, until Charles came up to her, put an arm round her shoulders and told her he was sending her home. ‘Go and have an
early night, sweetheart. We can do some exterior stuff with Bobby.’

Cheska looked over at Bobby, who was laughing with one of the make-up girls. She’d hoped he might suggest they slip away together, but he’d hardly spoken to her all day. She watched
as he put an arm round the girl, hugged her, then walked off. She ran to catch up with him. ‘Bobby, Bobby!’

He stopped and turned to her. ‘Hello, baby. Boy, you look dreadful.’

‘I’m okay. Shall we go to the bed and breakfast tonight?’

‘I thought Charles was sending you home?’

‘He is, but I could meet you later.’

‘And give me your bug? I don’t think so.’ He chuckled. ‘Sorry, baby, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Look, you go home and tuck yourself up in
bed.’

‘What about tomorrow night, then?’

‘Well, it sounds as if we’re gonna be shooting for most of tomorrow evening to make up for lost time. But there’s the end-of-shoot party on Friday. We’ll see each other
then, okay?’

‘Okay.’ Cheska felt crushed. At the party, they’d be surrounded by the rest of the cast and crew, which wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind.

‘Bye, darlin’.’ Bobby waved casually as he walked away.

All Cheska’s scenes were finished by midday on Friday. Charles gave her a hug and told her she’d been wonderful. She hung around for lunch, just in case Bobby was
there, but he’d disappeared. With a sigh, Cheska left the school and got into the car that was waiting for her.

‘Home, miss?’ asked the driver.

‘Yes . . . er . . . no. Could you take me into the West End, please?’

‘Sure.’ He started the engine and they set off. Cheska stared out of the window as they drove down Regent Street. Shoppers were wrapped up warmly against the chilly October
afternoon.

‘Here we go, love. You take care now.’

‘Thanks,’ Cheska said, stepping out of the car. ‘Now where should I start?’ she murmured to herself. She looked in the window of Marshall & Snelgrove and decided it
was as good a place as anywhere.

An hour and a half later she was staggering under the weight of the bags she was carrying. She’d had a wonderful time, buying her first denim jeans, a pair of brightly coloured checked
ski-pants that hugged her slim hips and two turtleneck sweaters. At Mary Quant, she’d bought the most wonderful dress to wear to the party tonight – a little black number, similar to
the one she’d seen Audrey Hepburn wearing in the publicity material for
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
.

Cheska hailed a taxi, wondering what her mother would have to say about her purchases, and headed for home.

‘Well, what do you think?’ Cheska came into the sitting room and did a twirl for Greta.

Greta swallowed hard. Her daughter looked stunning. The skimpy black dress showed off her lovely figure and the way she had styled her hair on top of her head gave her an added air of
elegance.

‘You look absolutely beautiful, darling, but you need some jewellery. Wait here.’ Greta stood up and disappeared into her bedroom, coming back with a string of pearls.
‘There.’ She fastened them around Cheska’s neck. ‘Have you got a coat? You’ll catch your death in that dress.’

‘Yes, Mummy.’

‘Where’s the party?’

‘At The Village in Lower Sloane Street.’

‘That’s a very fashionable spot, isn’t it? Well, have a wonderful time. What time will you be back?’

‘I don’t know. But late. Don’t wait up. Goodbye, Mummy.’

‘Goodbye, darling.’ Greta gritted her teeth as she heard the front door shut. She faced another evening alone and thought yet again how hard it was to watch her daughter turning into
an adult.

During the long, lonely days while Cheska was working, Greta had found plenty of time to think. And much of it had been spent analysing her true feelings for David.

It had begun on the night Cheska had confided in her about Bobby and asked her if she loved David. Ever since then, Greta had looked back on the once close relationship they’d shared.
He’d been such a big part of her life before his proposal. And Greta had to admit she’d missed him terribly over the past five years. He’d always been there for her, undemanding
and supportive, and she realised now that she had almost certainly taken him and his kindness for granted.

When he’d asked her to marry him, she’d been riding high, Cheska had filled her life, and this, added to her resolution not to allow any man near her heart, had elicited her firm
refusal.

The thing she’d pondered on most was whether she missed him simply because Cheska had gone and there was now a void in her life that David was the obvious candidate to fill. Or whether it
was
him
she missed.

Greta thought of the times they had spent together over the years. Not only had David provided a listening ear and sound advice, but he’d always had the ability to cheer her up when
she’d been at her lowest ebb. She felt better when she was with him, and she longed now for the lightness he’d brought to her life.

She’d also begun to see a clearer picture of herself as she’d been over the past few years: her grim determination to make Cheska a star, to control her and her career to the
detriment of everything else. With her heart firmly locked away, Greta knew she had become hard; all the softness that had once led her time and again into trouble had gone. Even though this meant
she was safe from any further hurt, it meant there were rarely times of joy. She tried to recall the last time she’d actually laughed, and couldn’t.

David made her laugh. His belief that any situation, however dire, had some humour in it somewhere provided the perfect antidote to her own tendency towards seriousness.

As Greta began to wake up from her emotional torpor, she contemplated how she had always considered love as a passionate madness that was all-consuming. Just as Cheska was feeling now with Bobby
Cross. But she could see quite clearly that what her daughter was experiencing was infatuation, which was simply about physical chemistry.

And she realised that in the past, that had been her, too.

When she thought about David, it brought forth a completely different set of feelings: it was a wonderful, warm sensation that filled her and made her feel content, secure and loved. There was
no play-acting like there’d been with other men; with David, she was completely herself. He knew her inside out, faults and all, yet he still loved her.

But . . . Greta closed her eyes. Was there that all-important stirring in her stomach when she thought about him? The two of them had never even kissed. She considered how she felt when she saw
him on television; recently, she’d noticed how handsome he seemed to have become, but maybe he always had been and she simply hadn’t noticed, caught up as she had been in the fulcrum of
her own dramas.

Certainly, she felt proprietorial about him. She remembered the pang of jealousy she’d suddenly experienced a few weeks ago when she saw him in the newspaper, pictured at a premiere with a
beautiful actress on his arm.

Her life had been hollow . . . empty, since she’d refused him. Greta admitted to herself that she’d been unhappy for years. Being busy with Cheska’s career had papered over the
cracks, but now . . .

She sighed, stood up and walked into the kitchen to make herself her nightly Horlicks. She imagined David being here with her, how he’d find a joke about something, then maybe take her in
his arms and give her one of his huge cuddles, then kiss her . . .

Greta’s stomach fluttered at the thought.

‘Oh God,’ she murmured, ‘what have I done?’

The dress had exactly the effect that Cheska had hoped for. As she descended the wooden steps into the candlelit bar every head in the room turned to watch her. By the time she
was at the bottom Bobby was waiting for her. He swung her round in his arms and kissed her on the cheek.

‘Hey, baby. You look great!’ His hands moved over her body. ‘My little girl’s growing up, isn’t she?’ he whispered, nuzzling her neck. ‘C’mon,
let’s go and find you a drink.’

For the rest of the night Bobby was as attentive as he’d been that first week in Brighton. He didn’t leave her side, holding her hand as they moved from one group of people to
another. She drank every drink she was given and even tried to smoke a joint she was offered. She coughed and spluttered as Bobby laughed at her attempt.