The Angel Tree (38 page)

That night David sank into the guest-room bed full of renewed hope.

The following morning at ten o’clock, David went in to Cheska’s room and gently woke her.

‘How did you sleep?’

‘Very well. I must have been tired from the drive.’

‘And from having a baby six weeks ago. I’ve made you some tea and toast. And I insist you eat the lot, since you didn’t touch your sandwich last night.’ He placed the
tray on her lap and sat down on the bed. ‘Now, I have to go to Shepperton Studios after lunch to discuss this year’s Christmas special. Why don’t you come with me?’

‘No, thanks. I have a lot to do while I’m here.’

David frowned. ‘I just don’t like leaving you on your own.’

‘Stop fussing, Uncle David, I’ll be fine. Please try to remember that I’m a grown-up now, with a child of my own.’

‘You’re right,’ he agreed reluctantly. ‘But I won’t be back until much later, so why don’t I take you out to the Italian round the corner for supper tonight?
And we can discuss whether you’d like to visit your mother before we drive back to Marchmont on Friday. Dr Cox said he thought it would be a very good idea.’

‘Okay,’ Cheska agreed, then threw her arms around his shoulders in a spontaneous hug. ‘And thank you for everything.’

Later that afternoon, once Cheska had seen David drive off, she left the apartment. She visited her bank, then took a taxi to Leon’s office.

‘Darling! What a surprise! How are you?’

‘Absolutely fine.’

‘And how’s the baby?’

‘Oh, she’s lovely.’

‘Good. You look wonderful. Motherhood seems to suit you.’

‘Ava’s at Marchmont at the moment. Uncle David’s staying here at the apartment with me.’

‘You know, I’ve had countless calls from directors, both here and across the pond. You got such raves in
Please, Sir, I Love You
that everyone wants you. Maybe when the
baby’s a bit older you might consider coming back to work.’

‘Well,’ said Cheska, ‘as a matter of fact, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. You say Hollywood is still interested?’

‘Yes. Carousel Pictures want you to do a screen test.’

‘The thing is, Leon, I feel I need a fresh start, what with everything that’s happened. So, if they still want me, I’d be delighted to go and test for them.’

‘They certainly do,’ said Leon. ‘Give me the nod and I’ll set it up. It will only take a phone call.’

‘How about I fly out tomorrow?’

‘What?’ Leon looked astonished. ‘I thought you’d want to be with your baby for at least the next few months.’

‘Well, there’s no reason why I couldn’t fly over, do the test and come back, is there? Then, if they like me, Ava and I could move over there permanently.’

‘I see. And what does David have to say about this?’ Leon asked cautiously, remembering his last conversation with Cheska’s uncle.

‘I think he’s just pleased to see I’m better. And Aunt LJ is happy to look after Ava for a few days.’

‘Right. Well, if you’re sure, why don’t you let me make that call? Hollywood wakes up in an hour’s time. We’ll see what we can organise.’

‘Fine.’ Cheska stood up. ‘Remember what you’ve always said, Leon: “When you’re hot, you’re hot.” I don’t want to miss my chance.’

‘Absolutely, Cheska. Leave it with me and I’ll be back to you with an answer around six o’clock.’

The telephone in the apartment rang at twenty past six. Cheska picked up the receiver immediately.

‘Leon here. It’s all arranged. You’ll fly out at five thirty tomorrow evening from Heathrow. I’ll get Barbara, my secretary, to meet you by the BOAC desk with your visa
and ticket – first class, of course. A representative from Carousel will meet you at the other end and take you to your hotel. You’re booked into a suite at the Beverly Wilshire, all
expenses paid. Talking of which, will you need some money?’

‘No,’ said Cheska. ‘I went to the bank this morning and drew some out. I have plenty.’

‘Good. I hope it goes well, darling. One thing, though, I haven’t mentioned your daughter to the studio. They’re quite old-fashioned over there, and I don’t want your
chances spoilt before you’ve done the test. Let’s get you the contract and take it from there.’

‘I understand, Leon.’

‘Are you sure you’re up to this? We could easily postpone it until you’re a little stronger, you know.’

‘I’m absolutely fine, Leon, I promise. I need to cash in on the success of
Please, Sir, I Love You
before they forget me.’

‘That’s all too true . . . Cheska, I just wanted to say how sorry I am about your mother. And, also, about Bobby,’ he added.

‘Why should you be sorry about
him
?’

‘Because I knew about his marriage and his reputation and I didn’t say anything to you. I let you down, Cheska, and I feel bad about it.’

‘Well, I rather think it’s he who’s going to be sorry. Goodbye, Leon. I’ll call you from the States.’

David arrived home an hour later and the two of them went out to the Italian restaurant.

‘Have you had a good day?’ he asked as they ordered.

‘Yes. I’ve sorted out what I needed to,’ she answered carefully. ‘And it’s made me realise that I’ve relied on Mummy for the whole of my life, and now she
isn’t . . . here, I have to learn to stand on my own two feet.’

‘Yes.’ David sighed. ‘Sadly, you do, at least for now.’

‘I also went to the bank, as I’d no idea how much money I have. As a matter of fact, Uncle David, I’m quite rich.’ She gave a small laugh.

‘Well, your mother always took great care to invest your earnings wisely and I’m sure the amount has grown over the years. At least that’s one problem you don’t
have.’

‘No. Actually, Uncle David, I’ve decided I want to go back to Marchmont tomorrow. I’ve done as much as I can here.’

‘Of course. But if you could wait until Friday I could give you a lift, rather than you having to trek back on the train.’

‘Thanks for the offer, but I’d prefer to go sooner. I’m missing Ava. I’ll pack a suitcase with all the things I want to take back, so perhaps you could bring it up when
you come?’

‘Of course. And I understand completely about you wanting to get back to Ava. If you get the two o’clock train, I’ll tell Ma to pick you up from Abergavenny Station at half
past six. I’ve got meetings all day, so I’m afraid I can’t take you to Paddington.’

‘I’ll be fine, Uncle David, really. I’ll take a taxi.’

‘I must say, I was rather hoping you might want to visit your mother. I’m going up to Cambridge on Thursday. Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?’

‘I promise that, next time I’m in London, I will. I just . . . can’t face it yet. Do you understand, Uncle David?’

‘Of course, sweetheart. And I just want to say that I’m really impressed by the way you’re handling things. It’s been such a dreadful time for you, and to see you making
such a fantastic recovery makes me very proud.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Just remember that Ma and I are always here for you and Ava, whatever happens.’

Cheska looked up at David. ‘Whatever happens?’

‘Yes.’

Cheska knew that time was short. As soon as her uncle left the apartment at nine o’clock the next morning, she zipped up her holdall and hailed a taxi to take her to
Addenbrooke’s Hospital. At first the cab driver baulked at going as far as Cambridge, but quickly agreed when Cheska offered him an enormous tip.

Having instructed the driver to wait, she introduced herself at reception and was directed to Ward Seven. She rang the bell outside it and a nurse came to open the door.

‘I’m Cheska Hammond, Greta Marchmont’s daughter,’ she said. ‘Can I see my mother?’

The Jamaican nurse stared at her in shock. ‘Cheska Hammond! I saw
Please, Sir, I Love You
a few weeks ago.’ She moved closer as if to double-check Cheska’s features.
‘Oh my God, it
is
you!’

‘As I said, can I see my mother?’

‘I . . . yes. I’m sorry. Come in, come in.’ The nurse was clearly flustered. ‘I had no idea Greta’s daughter was
you
! I loved you in that film, Miss
Hammond,’ she said, dropping her voice to a whisper as they entered the ward.

‘Thank you.’

All Cheska could hear was a low, irregular beeping emanating from the various machines and monitors that sat beside each bed.

‘Welcome to the quietest ward in the hospital. I don’t get much conversation out of my patients, I’m afraid. Right,’ said the nurse, stopping at the end of a bed,
‘here’s your mother. She’s doing well, aren’t you?’ she said, leaning over Greta. ‘We did have a problem with some nasty bedsores, but they’ve cleared up
now. I’ll leave you with her. Talk to her as much as you can and hold her hand. The patients respond to voices and physical contact. I reckon your mum is just being stubborn and she’s
decided
she doesn’t want to wake up, because her brain waves are functioning well. Call me if you need me.’

‘Thank you.’ Cheska sat in the chair next to the bed and stared down at her mother. Greta was ghostly white. The fragile skin of her thin arms was criss-crossed with surgical tape
that held in place the needles and tubes that connected her to the drips that sustained her. A small pad with wires coming out of it was stuck to her temple, another to her chest. Tentatively,
Cheska put her hand on her mother’s and was surprised to find it was warmer than her own. She definitely felt alive, even if she looked dead.

‘Mummy, it’s me, Cheska.’ She bit her lip, not knowing what to say. ‘How are you feeling?’

She studied Greta’s face for a reaction, but there was none.

‘Mummy’ – Cheska lowered her voice further – ‘I just wanted to tell you that I’m so sorry about the awful row we had and . . . other things. I never meant to
hurt you. I . . . I love you.’

Tears came to Cheska’s eyes and she swallowed hard. ‘But, Mummy, don’t you worry, I’m going to make sure Bobby pays for what he’s done to us. I’m doing it for
both of us. I have to go now, but I want you to know I love you very, very much. Thank you for everything, and I promise I’m going to make you proud of me. Bye bye, Mummy. See you
soon.’

Cheska kissed Greta tenderly on her forehead, then stood up and walked towards the exit. The nurse hurried towards her.

‘Miss Hammond, can I please have your autograph for my son? He’s a big fan and—’

But Cheska was already out of the door and walking away. She hurried out of the hospital and jumped into the waiting taxi. When they were back in London, she asked the driver to drop her outside
the Palladium, then found a small supermarket just off Regent Street and purchased a small bottle of what she needed. At the florist’s two doors down she bought a large bunch of red roses.
Feeling for the bottle in her pocket, she turned back towards the Palladium.

She’d remembered that, one afternoon when they were filming
Please, Sir, I Love You
, Melody had taken her to the studio next door, where they were shooting a thriller, and that
was what had given her the idea. It wouldn’t take much. Making her way around the corner to the stage door, she peered inside. An old man was sitting in the doorkeeper’s cubicle,
smoking a cigarette.

‘’Scuse me, love. Hold the door open, will you?’

Cheska turned and saw a man behind her carrying a large box in his arms. She did as he asked and watched as he dumped the box on the floor in the cubicle. As both men bent down to survey its
contents, she slipped past them, walking swiftly along the corridor. She knew exactly where she was going. She’d visited Uncle David in the Number One dressing room on more than one occasion.
She opened the door, switched on the light and took a deep breath. The room smelt of
him
, of the musky aftershave he always wore.

Cheska made straight for the dressing table and put down the bunch of red roses. There, sitting on the surface, was a pot of Crowes Cremine, used to remove heavy stage make-up after the show.
She opened the lid; it was only a quarter full. She reached for the bottle in her pocket, undid the top and poured some of the liquid inside it into the pot of cream. Then she used a nail file to
stir it in.

The texture changed to something that resembled cottage cheese, but she doubted he’d notice. Switching off the lights, she walked back down the corridor. The two men were still bent over
the box in the cubicle, emptying it of its contents.

Cheska walked past them unnoticed and back out on to the street.

Bobby Cross arrived in his dressing room and sniffed the air. He wrinkled his nose at the pungent smell and made a mental note to instruct the cleaners not to use so much
bleach in future. Then his eyes lit on the large bunch of red roses on his dressing table. He read the card accompanying the roses. Usually, the doorman would remove the notes to be vetted before
he saw them, but this one must have slipped through the net.

‘You never understood the madness of love, so you won’t sing of it again,’ it said.

Bobby shuddered. He’d had notes like this from crazed fans before, and they always unsettled him. He tore up the card and dropped it into the wastepaper bin, along with the roses, and
began to put on his make-up.

High on adrenalin, as he always was after a performance, Bobby sat down in front of the mirror in his dressing room and thought about the night ahead. He was having dinner with
Kelly, and afterwards . . . well, afterwards they would go back to his hotel, where she’d help him relax. Smiling at his reflection in anticipation, he automatically dipped a wad of cotton
wool into the pot of Crowes Cremine to begin removing his make-up.

He rubbed the cream in thoroughly, then wiped it across his eyelids to remove his eyeliner and mascara. A few seconds later he felt a strange burning sensation in his eyes, which spread out
until he felt his entire face was on fire. He screamed out loud at the excruciating pain.

He caught a brief glimpse of his gruesome reflection in the mirror before he passed out cold.

LJ watched the last passengers make their way out of Abergavenny Station and saw the train pull out. She checked the platform again, but there was no sign of Cheska. Maybe
she’d misheard David when he’d said she was arriving on the half past six. Anyway, there was no point in hanging around at the station. There were no more trains due that night.