Angel

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  ‘Thanks a lot. With you for a friend, I don’t need an enemy.’

  ‘You know very well I’m only joking. But she’s not much taller than you, an inch maybe. And there won’t be any high-heeled shoes in the movie, only ballet flats, Empire style.’

  ‘Annick’s a good suggestion,’ Gavin said. ‘I’ll throw the name at Aida, see what she thinks.’

  ‘Why were you calling me, Gavin?’

  ‘I wondered if you had any plans. It’s such a fine day, I thought we might do something. We’ve both been working like dogs.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘I don’t know. You’re the Parisienne. Make a suggestion.’

  ‘We could go for a long walk in the Bois de Boulogne, but I just came in from doing my Saturday chores, and it’s colder than you think. Quite nippy, in fact, and very windy.’

  ‘I just want to get out of the hotel. I don’t want to be outside, necessarily. What about a movie?’

  ‘That’s a very original idea. Let’s do it,’ she laughed.

  ‘And then I’ll take you to dinner afterwards. Why don’t we go to the bistro on your corner?’

  ‘Okay. It’s my favourite place.’

  ‘When shall I pick you up, Angel Face?’

  ‘Don’t. Let’s meet at Fouquet’s on the Champs-Élysées instead. It’ll save time. Say in about half an hour?’

  ‘I’ll be there.’

  ***

  In the end they abandoned the movie houses on the Champs-Élysées. Some were full; others had long lines outside. It seemed that half of Paris had had the same idea.

  Instead, they took a cab to a cinema Rosie knew on the Left Bank. ‘They only play old movies,’ she explained to Gavin as they scrambled into the taxi. ‘And I’ve no idea what’s on the bill this weekend. But something good is usually playing.’ She eyed the felt fedora. ‘Do you really have to wear that hat, Gavin? I’m not sure I like you in it.’

  He grinned. ‘It’s my disguise.’

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding! I’d recognize you anywhere. And those women certainly did at Fouquet’s. I saw them eyeing you. Drooling, actually.’

  ‘They weren’t eyeing me. Look, I’m serious, Rosie, nobody knows who I am when I wear this hat. I think it’s sort of nifty. No?’

  ‘It looks moth-eaten to me.’

  He laughed and teased her about her loden cape, which he said he was sick of seeing, and they exchanged friendly banter on their way to the Left Bank. Twenty minutes later, they were rushing inside the cinema to see Casablanca. They had missed the first ten minutes, but neither of them cared. They each knew the old classic extremely well.

  As they settled into their seats, Gavin whispered, ‘I can’t wait for Bogie to say, “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.” It’s my favourite line in the movie.’

  ***

  Once the film was over they went to the bistro at the end of Rosie’s street. It was crowded, but Rosie was well known there, and a table was miraculously found.

  ‘You’ve got to take off your hat,’ Rosie hissed once they were seated. ‘I’m not going to sit here with you if you persist in keeping it on. It’s rude. And everyone’s looking at you.’

  ‘They’ll look at me even more if I take it off.’

  ‘Nobody’s going to bother you here,’ Rosie said, then glanced up and smiled sweetly at the waiter, whom she knew. ‘Vodka avec des glaçons, s’il vous plaît, Marcel,’ she said and then addressed Gavin. ‘Do you want the same?’

  He nodded. ‘With a twist, s’il vous plaît.’

  The waiter stared at him curiously, turned to Rosie, muttered, ‘Oui, Madame de Montfleurie,’ and hurried away to fill their order.

  ‘He recognized me.’ Gavin winked at her. ‘But I’ll take the hat off just to please you.’ Removing the felt fedora, he put it under his chair.

  ‘Much better, Gavin. And nobody’s going to bother you. This is La Belle France. Civilization and all that jazz.’

  The words had hardly left her mouth when a young man came over to the table, excused himself profusely and thrust a scrap of paper at Gavin. In halting English, he said, ‘Monsieur Ambrose, can I ’ave your autograph, s’il vous plaît?’

  Gavin inclined his head graciously, signed his name and flashed the young man a dazzling smile.

  The Frenchman departed, looking jubilant, grinning from ear to ear.

  Gavin said, ‘You see, I—’

  ‘Don’t you dare say I told you so, Ambrosini. Or I’ll leave!’

  He smiled at her beatifically.

  She grinned at him, then studied him for a moment, her head to one side, her green eyes quizzical. She was about to ask him something when the waiter arrived with their drinks.

  Seeing Gavin without the hat, the waiter exclaimed, ‘Ah, oui, Monsieur Ambrose! Bien sûr!’ He added in English, ‘I think it was you.’

  Gavin nodded, gave the waiter a weak smile, and when they were alone he looked at Rosie through narrowed eyes. ‘So much for your judgement.’ Then he laughed as he touched his glass against hers. ‘Here’s looking at you, kid,’ he said in his best Bogart imitation.

  ***

  It was during coffee after dinner that Rosie said, very quietly, ‘Can I ask you something, Gavin?’

  ‘Sure, go ahead.’

  ‘Why did you stay with Louise for so many years? She eventually recovered from the loss of the first baby. You both did. So why didn’t you leave her if you were so unhappy?’

  ‘Several reasons, Rosie, but the first and foremost was because of my son. I’d grown up without a father. Oh sure, Grandpa loved me, but it’s not quite the same. And I wanted David to have a father, to have me there for him when he needed me. Then there was my career, my acting. I knew I had to concentrate on it, dedicate myself to it, if I were to succeed the way I wanted to. I was single-minded about my work, you know that, and I just didn’t need marital problems, divorce problems, other-women problems. No distractions, that was my rule.’

  ‘Are you saying there have never been other women in your life?’ she asked softly, eyeing him curiously.

  ‘There haven’t been many, Rosie. I always kept up a good front, as far as my marriage was concerned. Don’t you think I did?’

  ‘Yes, very much so. It’s only recently that I’ve come to realize how unhappy you’ve been all these years. Even last November, when we wrapped Kingmaker, I was sure you had a great marriage. I said so to Nell.’

  ‘And what did she say?’

  ‘Nell disagreed with me. She said I shouldn’t forget you’re an actor.’

  ‘She’s a shrewd one, our Miss Jeffrey is.’

  ‘You’d better believe it.’

  ‘Rosie…’

  ‘Yes, Gavin?’

  ‘There’s another reason why I didn’t leave Louise.’ A slight pause followed. He held her with his cool grey eyes. ‘There didn’t seem to be any point, since you were married to someone else.’

  Rosie stared at him. She said slowly, ‘And that’s why I stayed with Guy… because you were married.’

  ***

  It was a cold clear night. The sky was a deep pavonine blue and cloudless; there was a full moon.

  They did not speak as they walked up the street to the building where she lived; nor did they touch.

  Once they were inside, Rosie threw her loden cape on the small wooden seat in the hallway, and Gavin did the same with his overcoat.

  Without a word she hurried into the sitting room and stood in the centre of it, her face half turned from him.

  He remained in the doorway, watching her. There was only one lamp on; it was quite dark and he could not make out the expression on her face. He longed to go to her, but he found he could not. For an unknown reason he was rooted to the spot.

  Eventually she swung around to face him.

  They stood staring at each other without speaking.

  She took a step towards him.

  He took one towards her.


  And at that exact moment, as they moved slowly and purposefully into the middle of the room, they both knew with certainty that their lives were about to change. Absolutely and irrevocably. With sudden clarity they understood that nothing would be the same again.

  She came into his arms, almost stumbling towards him in the end.

  He closed his arms around her, strong and forceful, holding her firmly against his body.

  Her arms encircled him; her hands went up into the nape of his neck, her fingers hardening against his skin; he pressed his against her spine.

  They kissed at last, a deep, lingering kiss which they discovered they could not bring to an end. It was as if this kiss was meant to cancel out the years of pain. Lips devoured lips, teeth grazed, tongues entwined, and they clung together, as though they were drowning, afraid to let go.

  He tasted the well-remembered sweetness of her mouth, and mingled with it was the salt of her tears. Finally he broke the kiss, touched her cheeks with his fingertips. They were wet.

  His eyes were locked to hers.

  She returned the intense look. ‘Gavin. Oh Gavin, I love you. I love you so much.’

  ‘And I love you, Rosie. I’ve never stopped loving you, not for a single day, not for a single moment.’

  There, it was out.

  It was said at last, after so many years of silence.

  The look they exchanged was full of understanding and knowledge, and without another word he took her hand, leading the way.

  Only a few seconds later Rosie was wondering how they had gone from the middle of her living room floor to the middle of her bed in such a short time, and when and where they had shed their clothes. Then all thoughts were stilled as Gavin drew her to him, kissing her over and over again.

  Rosie returned his kisses without restraint. It was as though they had never been apart. The years tumbled away. They came back to a place they had once known, a place that was familiar and which belonged to them.

  Although he had not made love to her for almost eleven years, Gavin still knew every curve and angle of her body as though it were his own. And she knew his.

  They touched each other feverishly, revived the old sensations, the sensual feelings, brought each other to the edge of ecstasy. And their memories were sweet, flooding back to engulf them.

  She had been his first love, he hers. Now, when they finally came together at last, it was like the first time they had made love.

  And yet it was different. They were wiser; they had suffered for each other; and this brought a new tenderness.

  ***

  The night was like a dream to them both.

  They slept after the first time they made love, only to awaken several hours later, reaching for each other anxiously, afraid it had not been real. And Gavin discovered he wanted her again. Once more he took her to him, loving her without constraint. And Rosie felt the same, consumed with a yearning for him. They slept, made love again as dawn broke. Finally they fell into the deepest sleep either of them had had in years.

  ***

  Rosie turned over in her bed, and reached for Gavin, only to find an empty place.

  Sitting up with a start, blinking in the bright morning sunlight, she looked around the room, thinking, as she had last night, that it had all been a dream.

  But it hadn’t. She knew that from her body. His imprint was all over her. Smiling, she threw back the bedclothes and got up, found her dressing gown and went looking for him.

  He was sitting behind her desk in the studio, dressed in his sweater and slacks, his horn-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. Pages of script were spread out in front of him.

  ‘Gavin, my script! Be careful, it’s full of my notes in the margin.’

  He lifted his head and smiled at her. ‘Is that a way to greet your lover, and after all I did for you last night.’

  ‘Oh you… you!’ she cried, laughing. ‘You’re impossible, Ambrosini!’

  ‘I love you, by the way.’

  ‘And I love you.’ She came around the desk, bent over him and kissed his cheek. He moved his face slightly, in order to kiss her on the mouth, and then he pulled her down onto his lap, buried his head against her shoulder. ‘God, how I love you, Rosie. So much, you’ll never know.’ He held her for a few seconds longer, then released her. ‘Don’t worry about the script, I only took one page out to make some changes in my dialogue. I’ll replace it tomorrow at the studio.’

  She got off his lap and walked across the room, saying over her shoulder, ‘I smell coffee brewing. That was nice, darling. Do you want another cup?’

  ‘No thanks, Angel.’

  The phone rang.

  They both stared at it.

  Rosie said quietly, ‘I hope it’s not Johnny.’

  Gavin stood up. ‘I’ll leave you alone,’ he said, walking around the desk.

  She shook her head. ‘It’s okay, please stay. I have no secrets from you, Gavin. Anyway, the machine’s on.’

  The phone went on shrilling.

  ‘No, it isn’t.’

  She grabbed it. ‘Hello?’ Then her expression brightened. ‘Nell, how are you? Where are you?’

  A split second later the smile evaporated. ‘Oh Nell, no! Oh God!’ Rosie’s grip tightened on the receiver, and she sat down heavily. ‘Oh my God!’ she cried again, and the colour drained from her face. ‘Yes, yes. I’ll be there. As soon as I can.’ She paused to listen, staring at Gavin who was standing near the desk, frowning. He saw that her eyes were wide, frightened, and that she was trembling. ‘Yes, okay, I’ll do that. I’ll leave a message on your machine.’ She hung up.

  ‘What is it, Rosie? What’s wrong?’ he demanded, going to her.

  She gaped at him, shaking her head, and her voice wobbled when she said, ‘It’s Kev. He’s been shot. He’s very badly hurt. The doctors at Bellevue told Nell his chances are poor.’ She began to cry. ‘They think Kev’s going to die.’

  FORTY-TWO

  On Monday morning Rosie and Gavin went straight from JFK Airport to Bellevue Hospital, where Nell was anxiously waiting for them.

  She was ashen-faced and exhausted after her long Sunday, and the moment she saw them she burst into tears. Rosie also began to cry as she went to comfort her. The two women clung to each other for a few seconds, and then stood apart. Gavin took Nell in his arms and hugged her, trying to keep up her hopes, as he had done with Rosie on the trans-Atlantic flight.

  ‘Kevin’s tough, and as strong as a horse,’ he said to Nell, putting his arm around her and walking with her to a group of chairs at the other end of the waiting room. ‘If anybody can pull through it’s him.’

  ‘But you don’t understand,’ Nell said tearfully. ‘It’s not just one gunshot wound. They peppered him with bullets. He’s sustained quite a few injuries and lost a lot of blood.’

  Anxiety-ridden though she was, Rosie added, ‘Gavin’s right, Kev’s going to make it. He’s just got to. He can’t die like Dad did.’ Sitting down next to Nell, she went on, ‘When can we see Kevin? Where are the doctors?’

  Nell said, ‘I’ll go and talk to the head nurse. She’ll page Doctor Morris. He said to do that when you arrived.’

  Rosie nodded, and Nell hurried away.

  Gavin took hold of Rosie’s hand and held it tightly in his. ‘If Kevin needs more blood, I’ll be glad to give mine, Rosie. As I know you will.’

  She stared at him. ‘Most blood is safe though, isn’t it, these days?’

  ‘Yes. But I just wanted you to know that I’m willing to do that. Kev would do the same for me.’

  ‘Yes he would and thanks for offering. Let’s see what the doctor has to say.’

  Nell returned a few minutes later with a white-coated man, whom Rosie assumed was one of Kevin’s doctors.

  Nell introduced them; then Rosie asked when they could see Kevin.

  ‘He’s still unconscious, Miss Madigan,’ Doctor Morris said. ‘And he’s in ICU, but you can look in on him now if you wish.’

  ‘We
’d like to,’ Rosie said and went on, ‘What are my brother’s chances, Doctor Morris?’

  ‘Slightly better than yesterday. We operated on him again early this morning, removed the last of the four bullets, and he seems to be stabilizing well. Look, he’s a young man, Miss Madigan, very strong and extremely fit, in excellent shape. That all works in his favour.’

  Rosie nodded. She was close to tears again and averted her head, clearing her throat, rummaging around in her handbag for a handkerchief.

  Gavin said, ‘If he needs more blood transfusions, Miss Madigan and I are willing to be donors.’

  ‘We don’t need blood for him right now, and I hope we won’t. But that’s good to know. Thanks. Shall we go?’

  The three of them followed Doctor Morris out of the waiting room and down the corridor, walking in the direction of the Intensive Care Unit.

  The doctor finally stopped, opened a door and ushered Rosie and Gavin into Kevin’s room. He lay in the hospital bed, attached by tubes to all kinds of machines. He was as white as the sheets on the bed. His eyes were closed; his breathing was shallow.

  Going over to the bed, Rosie touched his hand, leaned closer to him and kissed his cheek. ‘It’s me, Kev darling,’ she said, swallowing her tears. ‘It’s Rosie. I’m here for you, and so is Gavin. And Nell. We love you, Kev.’

  Kevin lay perfectly still. Not an eyelash flickered. Rosie squeezed his hand again and turned away. The tears ran down her cheeks. To her he looked as though all the strength had ebbed out of him, and her heart constricted in her chest. Suddenly, she understood why the prognosis had been so grave yesterday.

  Gavin stepped up to the bed, and took Kevin’s hand in his. ‘It’s Gavin, Kev. We’re going to stay here with you until you get better.’ Like Rosie had done, Gavin bent over him, kissed his cheek.

  Outside in the corridor they ran into Neil O’Connor, who had come to see Kevin again. Nell introduced the detective to Rosie and Gavin. The doctor excused himself, and Neil walked with them to the waiting room.

  ‘What happened?’ Rosie asked, once the doctor had gone.

  Neil shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Rosie. I don’t know. And we won’t know until we can talk to Kev.’

  ‘Nell told us yesterday that Kev’s partner had been wounded, too. Hasn’t he told you anything yet? Or is he also unconscious?’