Angel

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  That’s the basic problem, Gavin suddenly thought. She’s far too good—for her own good. But she had been like that as a teenager, usually seeing only the best in people, expecting the best of them. He suspected she would never change. A leopard didn’t change its spots, did it?

  In his mind, Gavin characterized Rosie as the All-American Girl. A long-stemmed American Beauty rose. She was beautiful. And vital, friendly, open, honest. In particular, he loved her intelligence and enthusiasm. Because she had such a good mind, he could talk to her about anything, and she always understood what he was getting at; and that enthusiasm of hers was a bonus. She was not a bit jaded; in fact, she was the least jaded person he knew. Even though she was sophisticated in many ways, had been exposed to a great deal and was well travelled, she was neither world-weary nor cynical. He considered that to be an extraordinary accomplishment for someone who lived in their world—the glitzy, glamorous, bitchy, competitive, cruel world of show business.

  Suddenly growing conscious that he had been staring too hard and too long at Rosie, Gavin shifted the focus of his eyes to Nell Jeffrey.

  Rosie was of average height, about five feet six, but she looked so much taller and bigger-boned when she was with Nell, who was much smaller, and delicately made. To Gavin she was like a little china doll, with her pink and white English complexion and silver-gilt hair. But he was well aware that her porcelain looks belied great tenacity, one of the shrewdest brains he had ever encountered, and an unusual stubbornness which occasionally bordered on pigheadedness.

  Yes, she’s quite a gal, our Little Nell, he thought, regarding her over the rim of his glass, his expression contemplative.

  In the fourteen years since he met her, which was when she first came from London to New York, Nell had carved out quite an extraordinary career for herself, had become one of the most successful and powerful publicists in America. Apart from representing the bel canto balladeer of the nineties, the immensely popular singer Johnny Fortune, Rosie, himself and all of his movies, Nell also handled the public relations for a major Hollywood studio, a number of other top movie stars, screenwriters, directors, producers and a handful of best-selling novelists.

  After working for several prestigious public relations firms in New York, where she learned her trade and learned it very well, Nell had founded her own company when she was twenty-seven. Over the past four years that it had been in existence it had truly flourished, and now she had a big staff and offices in New York, Los Angeles and London.

  Successful though she was in business, Nell’s personal life was as unfulfilled and as unrewarding as Rosie’s. How he wished the two of them would find a couple of nice guys to settle down with.

  Gavin took a long swallow of his wine, genuinely amazed at himself. And he wondered how he, of all people, could think a thing like that.

  It was Mikey, as far as Nell was concerned, Gavin knew. For a long time now he had been convinced that she had never properly recovered from her youthful romance with Mikey, and then when he had vanished two years ago she had simply switched off. At least as far as men were concerned.

  As for Rosie, that was another matter altogether.

  In a sense, she was in far deeper trouble with her personal life than either him or Nell. But he did not wish to contemplate that at the moment.

  Already an extremely complex woman, because of her very nature Rosie was submerged in any number of other complications, all of which stemmed from the life she had chosen to lead. Consistently, she denied this; equally, she pooh-poohed the idea that she was a complex person. But he knew better.

  Nell cut into his thoughts, when she said, ‘You’re looking awfully pensive, my lad. One is sad, of course, when a movie ends. But under the circumstances, I would have thought you’d be relieved… I mean, as executive producer surely you must be thinking thank God it’s in the can, there’re no more disasters to worry about. That sort of thing. No?’ She raised a blonde brow questioningly.

  Gavin nodded in agreement. ‘I am relieved, Nell, believe me I am. And I’m not pensive, at least not about the movie. To tell you the truth, I was thinking about the two of you, and wishing you’d find a couple of nice guys. Settle down—’

  ‘Bloody hell, perish the thought!’ Nell cried, cutting him off, recoiling slightly, looking at him askance. ‘I’m perfectly happy the way I am, thank you very much.’

  Rosie said, ‘And so am I, Gavin, so please don’t give us a hard time.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ he said, backing off. ‘I was only playing big brother, and there’s no need to get all excited and het up.’

  Grinning at him, Nell said, ‘We know you only have the best of intentions, Gavin, when it comes to us—your favourites. But we can take care of ourselves, you know. We’re grown-up girls now. Come on, let’s grab ourselves fresh drinks and plunge into that mob.’ Winking at him theatrically, mugging, she finished, ‘Who knows who we might find lurking out there in the madding crowd, eh?’

  He laughed and so did Rosie.

  Gavin said, ‘We had better join the party, circulate a bit. This crew and the entire unit have been really terrific, and I’d like to have a drink with them, spend a bit of time chatting. Anyway, I want to thank all of them personally.’

  ***

  The surprise Aida had arranged for Bonfire Night was a fireworks display.

  It started at nine o’clock, after the buffet supper was over, and took place on the back lot of the studios. Everyone stood outside, watching, cheering, and clapping loudly as different special effects filled the night sky. Catherine wheels, cascades, waterfalls, rockets, starbursts, rainbows and snowfalls were set off one after the other, exploding brilliant colours and delicate, intricate patterns into the darkness and illuminating the studio buildings. It was breathtaking, a magical, fairy-tale show of colour and light that lasted for over twenty minutes.

  But the most spectacular part was the finale, when the name of the movie was spelled out in fireworks mounted to a giant frame. And following the title Kingmaker came the words, Thanks, Gavin.

  Once the renewed burst of loud cheering and clapping subsided, a clear baritone voice began to sing, ‘For he’s a jolly good fellow, for he’s a jolly good fellow,’ and everyone joined in enthusiastically.

  Singing along with them, Rosie knew they meant every word, and so did she.

  ***

  ‘Do you think Gavin’s marriage is in trouble?’ Nell asked, giving Rosie a penetrating look.

  So startled was Rosie by the question that she almost dropped her mug of tea, and she simply stared back at her friend speechlessly. When she eventually found her voice, she said, ‘Whatever makes you say a thing like that?’

  Now it was Nell’s turn to be silent, and she sat back on the sofa, a thoughtful expression settling on her face.

  Rosie continued to stare at her, waiting for an answer.

  It was late, well after one o’clock in the morning, and the two women were relaxing in Rosie’s suite at the Athenaeum Hotel in Piccadilly. She, Gavin, and most of the American contingent on the film had been living there for months, and Nell had checked in earlier in the day, as she invariably did when she came to London.

  They had been driven back from the party at Shepperton Studios in Gavin’s limousine, and he had come with them to Rosie’s suite for a nightcap. But he had left well over an hour ago, claiming total fatigue. There was no denying he had looked exhausted, his face grown pinched and wan all of a sudden, and it was obvious that the surgical collar was bothering him. ‘I’ve got to get this damn thing off, take a pain-killer and go to bed,’ he had mumbled to them as he left the suite.

  Rosie and Nell had continued to talk for a while longer, catching up on all their news; a few minutes ago, Rosie had gone to the small kitchenette at one end of the sitting room where she had made a pot of tea.

  Now she sat nursing the mug in both hands, her eyes on Nell’s face. ‘Why would you think a thing like that, Nell? About Gavin’s marriage?’ she ask
ed again, and repeated, ‘Why?’

  Nell looked at her fully, and explained slowly, in a low voice, ‘Louise was not here for the wrap party. That’s never happened before. I mean, she’s always been at his wrap parties, whether they’ve been in New York, LA, or on foreign location.’

  ‘But she had to go back to California,’ Rosie replied. ‘To get ready for Christmas.’

  ‘Christmas! It’s only the beginning of November, for God’s sake!’

  ‘Well maybe it was for Thanksgiving, I can’t really remember. In any case, she has been here a great deal, commuting between London and Los Angeles. So I’m sure everything’s all right. Besides, she does have a career of her own.’

  ‘Career! What career? Sitting on charity committees, is that what you mean?’

  Unable to dismiss the apparent scorn reverberating in Nell’s voice, Rosie eyed her friend carefully. ‘Do I detect a slightly bitchy note here?’ she asked.

  ‘Perhaps you do. I don’t like Louise Ambrose, and I never have from the first day I met her, when she came creeping around Gavin. I don’t know what he saw in her then, or what he sees in her now—if anything. She is one person who hasn’t improved with age and maturity, she’s only grown worse. In my opinion, she’s perfectly ridiculous, and certainly I’ll never understand their relationship. Never. In any case, Gavin should have married you.’

  ‘Oh come on, Nellie, don’t start that at this hour. You know very well that when Gavin and I had our little thing we were just a couple of kids, for heaven’s sake—’

  ‘He’s still in love with you.’

  Rosie’s gaze intensified, then she spluttered, ‘Now that is pure nonsense! He’s no more in love with me than I am with him.’

  ‘Want to bet?’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘Scared to hear the truth, Rosie mine?’

  ‘Not at all. But you’re way off on this, Nellie, way off. I’ve worked with Gavin around the clock for the past nine months, so don’t you think I’d know if he were in love with me? Anyway, back then in New York we were so young… infatuated would be a far better, and more accurate, word to use to explain how we felt about each other.’

  ‘This is Little Nell sitting here, Angel Face. That’s what he’s always lovingly called you, isn’t it? But to continue, it’s me who’s looking you right in the eye, and you can’t fool me. You were in love with him, Rosie Madigan, you told me so at the time, just in case you’ve forgotten. And I remember very well that you were so smitten with him you couldn’t see straight. And Gavin reciprocated those feelings. He was in love with you. He’s in love with you now.’

  ‘Don’t be so ridiculous. I’d know.’

  ‘No, you wouldn’t, you’re too involved with all those bloody Frogs.’

  ‘Please, Nell, not tonight. I’m tired,’ Rosie said, a pleading note entering her voice.

  ‘So am I. Listen, getting back to my original point, I really do think Gavin’s unhappy with Louise.’

  ‘And I’m absolutely certain he isn’t. I’ve been with them a lot during this picture, more than you have, Nell. He adores Louise, and his behaviour towards her hasn’t changed, it’s exactly the same as it’s always been.’

  ‘So what—he’s an actor.’

  Rosie frowned but made no comment. After a moment, she said in a firm voice, ‘You still haven’t given me a valid reason why you suddenly think his marriage is in trouble.’ There was a little pause. ‘Do you know something I don’t?’ she demanded.

  ‘No, I don’t. Let’s forget it, shall we?’ Nell said this far too quickly, and then she shrugged, offered Rosie a faint, somewhat regretful smile.

  A silence fell between them.

  Eventually Nell said: ‘Look, it’s just a feeling I have, Rosie. As I started to tell you before, it did seem awfully odd to me that she wasn’t at the wrap party this evening. God knows—and so do I—the fuss she’s made in the past about being present, no matter what it entailed getting her there.’ Nell shook her head. ‘She was unbelievable! I became aware of her tonight because of her very noticeable absence. I also thought it was peculiar that she wasn’t cheering him from the sidelines, if not, indeed, from the centre of things. You know her ego. She wants to be perpetually in the limelight. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that one would think she’d want to privately and publicly pat him on the back for pulling this off, wouldn’t you? Kingmaker is one hell of an achievement.’

  Recognizing certain truths in all of this, Rosie nodded her head. She said slowly, ‘But, nevertheless, it’s not really enough to think they’re having problems, is it?’

  Nell let out a small sigh, and shook her head. ‘I guess not. And as I said a moment ago, let’s forget it, Rosie. Perhaps I’m just imagining things.’ Nell sprang to her feet purposely, added briskly, ‘I’d better let you get to bed.’

  ‘I do have to get up early,’ Rosie murmured, placed her mug on the table and also stood up.

  Together they walked across the room; Rosie opened the door and turned to Nell. ‘Gavin’s marriage is not in trouble, honestly it isn’t. I would know.’

  No, you wouldn’t, Nell thought, you can’t see the wood for the trees. And he would never tell you how he feels. How could he?

  Leaning closer, Nell kissed Rosie on the cheek. ‘Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m going out to Shepperton, to go over the stills the unit photographer took this past week. I’ll be there all day, planning some magazine spreads on Kingmaker with the unit publicist.’

  ‘Then let’s have lunch at the studio.’

  ‘I’d love to, Rosie. See you.’

  ‘Sleep tight, Nell.’

  Rosie closed the door and walked slowly back to the bedroom, reflecting on Nell’s words. She found them quite extraordinary.

  FOUR

  It was a glittering day.

  The sky was a clear and vivid blue, unblemished by cloud, and although the sun had no warmth on this cold November Saturday it was, nevertheless, a bright golden orb flung high above Park Avenue that added immeasurably to the sparkle and zest of the morning.

  Rosie walked at a rapid pace, enjoying being back in New York, and assailed by many memories. Most of them were good memories, and so her present-day problems were lifted, at least temporarily. Certainly she felt less weighed down by them, and the heaviness she had been experiencing of late had miraculously evaporated the moment she had planted her feet on American soil. And she was determined to enjoy her few weeks here; nothing was going to spoil her first visit to her home town in two years.

  She had arrived three hours earlier on Concorde from London, an amazingly rapid flight across the Atlantic which had taken only three hours and forty minutes. Her ticket on the supersonic plane was a present from Gavin, one he had forced her to accept. As usual, she had been reluctant to take anything from him, but now she was glad she had succumbed to his pressure. He had told her that Concorde was not a luxury but a necessity, if you were in their business and under so many different time constraints; she now agreed wholeheartedly with him.

  The plane had landed at nine-thirty; she had whizzed through Baggage and Customs, and by eleven-thirty she had already been well ensconced in Nell’s apartment on Park Avenue at Eightieth Street, unpacked, freshly made-up and enjoying the cup of tea Nell’s housekeeper had made for her, and which Maria insisted she drink before going out into the cold weather.

  Because it was such an icy day Rosie had exchanged her black suit and matching coat for a loden-green wool trouser suit worn with a wine-coloured turtle-neck sweater, her favourite Lucchese cowboy boots made of a wonderful dark reddish-brown Cordovan leather, and a long, full, highwayman’s cloak cut from Austrian loden cloth. She had bought the cloak in Munich a few years ago, and had it lined with wine cashmere which added extra warmth. But mostly she loved the cape for its dramatic looks, the sense of élan it gave her when she wore it.

  Well dressed for the weather, she had left the apartment intending to hail a cab, but the crisp air
felt so good after being cooped up in the plane that she decided to walk instead.

  Now she paused for a second and stared down Park Avenue.

  It was so clear she could see for ever, all the way to the Pan Am building where the tip of the avenue led into Grand Central. Despite the fact that she was based in Paris, and adored that beautiful, graceful, elegant city of light, New York was home to her, and it was unique. There was no other city like it anywhere in the world.

  Earlier, coming in from Kennedy Airport, the limousine driver had chosen to enter Manhattan by way of the Fifty-ninth Street Bridge. As they had driven over it from Long Island City she had suddenly caught her breath as she gazed out of the car window.

  Straight ahead of her, ranged on the other side of the East River, rising up like giant cliffs shimmering in the sunlight, were the towering apartment buildings of the East Side. And behind them floated the gargantuan office blocks of mid-town Manhattan; standing out in particular were the Empire State and the Chrysler buildings, the latter her favourite with its perfect art deco tower and slender spire. Those immense skyscrapers piercing the high-flung azure sky formed formidable canyons of steel and glass and concrete, and to Rosie they had never looked more impressive and awe-inspiring than they did at that moment. In the brilliant, mid-morning sunshine the skyline of Manhattan seemed to have been carved from crystal by some enormous god-like hand; it was so breathtaking it was almost otherworldly.

  But then she had always thought this city was beautiful, high-powered, challenging, and the most exciting place to be—if you were talented, ambitious, driven and lucky. Conversely, her brother deemed it to be Sodom and Gomorrah, for Kevin had recognized, at an early age, its dark and decadent side, its seamy, sleazy underbelly, had been aware of the corruption, ruthlessness, cruel poverty and inequities that permeated New York, flourished alongside the excitement, the glamour, the success, the great wealth and privilege.