by Roberta Kray
41
It had taken Lita longer then she’d expected to hunt down Mal. After leaving Nick Trent in the library, she’d checked all the usual places and then had to go from room to room, pushing through the crowds of people, getting more and more frustrated by the minute. All she’d wanted was to get back to Jude, to make the most of the time they had together. It was Theresa who’d eventually pointed her in the direction of the drive where she found Mal standing by a shiny black Ferrari and chatting to one of the chauffeurs.
‘Christ,’ he said, when she told him about Trent. ‘Is it eight o’clock already?’
‘A quarter past. Why is he asking about Stanley after all these years?’
‘I’ve no idea. I suppose there’s only one way to find out.’
‘He wants to speak to me too. Tomorrow, though, not tonight.’
‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to.’
‘I’ve said I would.’
‘You can always change your mind.’
Lita might have pursued the subject if Mal hadn’t been hurrying towards the library and she hadn’t been distracted by two other thoughts that were jostling for dominance in her brain: one was that Esther could be openly mocking her to Jude, the other that he might at this very moment be having his head turned by some glamorous, seductive girl who’d made a play for him.
Her second search proved as long and frustrating as the first. She began in the garden, weaving between the guests as she crossed the lawn, but he wasn’t where he had been. She checked out the area near the band – not there either. Quickly she backtracked to the house where she found Esther in the main reception room surrounded by her entourage. No sign of Jude. This was good in one way – at least the woman wasn’t whispering in his ear – but it didn’t do anything to allay her other fear. What if he was currently scribbling down the phone number of some predatory blonde and making arrangements to meet up with her in London?
Lita silently cursed Nick Trent. This was his damn fault. If she hadn’t had to go chasing after Mal, she wouldn’t have had to leave Jude’s side. Talk about bad timing. She continued to look – in the room where the food was, the room with the piano, and even in the bathrooms. Eventually she went out to the garden again and began another tour of the crowded lawn. It was then, just as she was starting to lose hope, she finally got lucky. There he was! He was sitting on a low wall near the path to the lake, all alone, watching the party go on around him.
She felt relief and a jumble of other emotions too. As she approached, she didn’t just see the man but also the boy he had been. She could clearly recall him standing in the kitchen in the Mansfield flat, buttering bread for peanut butter sandwiches. She saw him come back into the living room and slump down on the old corduroy sofa, his eyes already fixed on the screen. A rush of memories made the breath catch in the back of her throat.
‘Ah, there you are,’ he said. ‘I was just about to come looking for you.’
Lita sat down beside him. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t find Mal. It took me for ever. Are you having a nice time?’
‘The best,’ he said, smiling widely. ‘Thanks. I’ve never been to such an amazing party. Did you know Denis Peterson was here? I love his films. And I just saw Maggie Donovan walk past.’
Lita smiled back, glad he was enjoying himself. ‘Good. That’s great.’
‘And you won’t believe this, but Esther’s offered to read my screenplay. It’s a sequel to Dark Places. Did I tell you about it? No, I don’t think I did. It’s not finished yet but… Anyway she’s invited me to come and stay next weekend. She’s having some people over, movie people, including a couple of directors and a producer.’
‘She’s done what?’ Lita spluttered.
Instantly his face fell. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry. I should have asked you first, shouldn’t I? Do you mind? Please say you don’t. This could be my big break. And it would give us a chance to spend more time together… although maybe you don’t want to. I’d understand if you didn’t.’
Lita’s head was in a whirl. What the hell was Esther playing at? Why would she invite him to stay? It was some kind of weird game, she was sure of it. She felt confused and bewildered, at sea as to what to say next. Of course she wanted to spend more time with him – she couldn’t think of anything she wanted more – but on her terms, not Esther’s. However, when she looked at him, she knew she couldn’t say no. It would have been like stamping on his dreams.
‘I don’t mind. Why should I? But…’
Jude jumped to his feet, paced a couple of steps away from her, turned and came back. He grimaced. ‘God, I always hate it when there’s a ‘but’. You’d rather I didn’t come next week, right? I’m a complete idiot. I’ve just come barging into your life again and now —’
‘That’s not it,’ Lita said. ‘Honestly.’ She stood up too as she struggled to find the right words, to try and warn him that Esther wasn’t all she appeared to be. But she couldn’t think of a way of doing it that wouldn’t crush his hopes. ‘I just don’t want you to be disappointed. Be cautious, okay? Sometimes people say things or make promises they don’t keep.’
‘I realise that,’ he said dismissively. ‘But it’s a foot in the door. Don’t you see? In this business, it’s who you know, not what you know.’
Lita nodded, having done the best she could. ‘Well, I’m sure the screenplay’s brilliant. I’d love to read it too.’
‘So you don’t mind me coming next week?’
‘Of course not.’
Jude grinned like a little kid who’d just been told he could have a puppy for Christmas. ‘Thanks. I can’t wait. It’s going to be amazing.’
Lita smiled too, despite her reservations. His excitement was contagious. Perhaps she was worrying about nothing. Perhaps, just for once, Esther was doing something nice for someone else. But what were the odds? She chose to push aside that warning voice inside her head, the voice that told her none of it was going to end well.
Jude put his arm round her shoulder and gave her a hug. ‘You’re my lucky charm, Lolly Bruce, do you know that?’
Lita was too distracted by the closeness of his body, by the feel of his hand on her bare skin, to remind him that no one called her Lolly any more.
42
Lita had gone to sleep thinking about Jude Rule and woke up thinking about him too. It felt like a miracle that he had walked back into her life again, something akin to fate or destiny. He had left the party early, about ten o’clock, claiming that he had to get back to London to work on his screenplay. After he’d gone she’d drifted around for a while before deciding that a party wasn’t a party without him and clearing off to bed. The music and dancing had continued until the early hours and she’d dozed on and off until it quietened down.
There was no sign of Esther or Mal at breakfast. Out in the garden the great clear-up was in progress, and as she sat at the table and ate her toast she saw Theresa collecting abandoned glasses from the lawn. In her head, she replayed the evening, going over everything Jude had said, and what she’d said back. She winced a little at the recollection, wishing she’d been wittier, cooler and less eager to please. Playing ‘hard to get’ was something the girls had talked about at school. But it was different, wasn’t it, between her and Jude? You didn’t have to play games with someone you already knew.
They had exchanged phone numbers, but she was determined not to call him before next weekend. Or would that look like she wasn’t interested? No, if he wanted to speak to her he could ring the house. She didn’t want him to think she was the type of girl who did the chasing. They might have history but five years had passed since they’d last seen each other. Things had changed – they were both adults now – and the rules had changed.
After breakfast, Lita went to the den and set to work repairing an old Omega watch. Usually the intricacy of such work calmed her down but this morning she couldn’t concentrate. Her fingers felt thick and clumsy, and nothing would fall into place. After half an hour she gave up and, putt
ing the watch aside, picked up her book and headed out for a walk.
It was going to be another hot day. She ran down the steps and then veered off to the left, taking one of the smaller side paths in order to avoid the people on the lawn. Lita didn’t do this because she was lazy or didn’t want to help, but because Esther had once caught her picking up some post-party litter and been none too happy about it.
‘It’s not your place,’ she’d said sharply. ‘That’s what we have staff for.’
But Lita struggled with the concept of what exactly her place was. She didn’t feel like a member of the family, but nor was she employed. It left her in a kind of limbo, somewhere in between. The idea of ‘them’ and ‘us’ didn’t sit comfortably with her: she had not forgotten where she came from and never would. She was an East End girl with an education and a fancy wardrobe. And none of that made her better than anyone else.
All in all, it was easier when Esther wasn’t around. Mal didn’t care how much time she spent with Theresa or Mrs Docherty, or perhaps he simply didn’t notice. She always felt like she was stepping on eggshells when Esther was in the house. And now there was the situation with Jude.
Lita found a quiet spot and sat down on the grass. She opened the novel, stared at the first page and put it down again. What if Esther didn’t like Jude’s screenplay? What if she laughed in his face and sent him away? And then there was that other niggling worry: what if Jude’s only reason for coming back was to pursue his career? Maybe he hadn’t meant what he’d said about spending more time with her.
Several hours later Lita was still mulling these things over when she returned to the house for lunch. As soon as she stepped into the dining room she could sense the atmosphere between Mal and Esther, fraught and tight as a wire. She had caught the name Teddy as she’d come through the door but it didn’t mean anything to her.
Esther, who was wearing a pair of Prada sunglasses, asked, ‘What does he want to know about him for?’
‘It was just something Stanley Parrish had in his notes.’
Esther gave a snort. ‘Stanley Parrish! I thought we’d heard the last of that man. What’s his game, this bloke? What’s he after?’
Mal glanced towards Lita and gave a nod. ‘The truth, I suppose – whatever that might be.’
‘Money, more like. He’ll be looking for a way to put the screws on. That type are all the same. Why didn’t you tell him to push off? He’s only here to cause trouble.’
‘He’s Stanley’s nephew.’
‘So what?’
Lita sat down, quickly gathering that they were talking about Nick Trent. She hadn’t really cared for the guy herself – not that she’d been paying him much attention – but Esther’s antipathy made her warm towards him a little.
‘So he deserves some answers,’ Mal said. ‘I can hardly refuse to speak to him.’
‘You can do exactly as you like.’
Mal smiled thinly. ‘I already have done.’
One of those cold, unpleasant silences fell across the table. Lita helped herself to chicken salad, wanting to get lunch over and done with as fast as possible. From past experience she knew that a disagreement between the two of them could rapidly escalate into a full-blown row. With no desire to get caught in the crossfire she kept her mouth shut and stayed out of it. So far as she knew Mal hadn’t mentioned that Nick Trent was coming back this afternoon and she wasn’t about to break the bad news to Esther.
For a while the only sound was the scraping of knives and forks against plates. And then Esther, clearly itching for a fight with someone, turned to Lita and said tightly, ‘Well, there’s no need to thank me.’
Lita looked at her, bewildered. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘I thought you’d be grateful that I’m giving your boyfriend a helping hand. Do you have any idea how many scripts I’m asked to read?’ A sigh escaped from her scarlet lips. ‘Sometimes I wonder why I bother.’
Lita felt her cheeks reddening. ‘He’s not my boyfriend.’
‘What’s this?’ Mal asked.
‘Lita’s little friend from London. He wants to be a writer, apparently. I said I’d give his script a read-through. It’s probably terrible, bound to be, but I like to be supportive when I can. I’ve got some people coming down at the weekend and —’
‘What, again?’ Mal said. ‘This house is like Piccadilly Circus. Jesus, can’t we have some peace and quiet for a change?’
‘You might enjoy being a hermit but some of us prefer a bit of life around the place.’ She gave Lita the kind of disparaging glance that suggested she fell well short in this department. ‘Anyway, I invited him down to meet a couple of directors. Someone might be interested in taking him on.’
‘Maybe you should have asked Lita before you did that.’
‘Oh dear,’ Esther said, without a hint of remorse. ‘Have I gone and put my foot in it?’
Lita could see the amusement on her face, and was quick to deliver a rebuttal. ‘It’s fine. I don’t mind what he does. Why should I? If he wants to… It’s not a problem. It’s entirely up to him.’ All of which came out sounding rather desperate, a far cry from the cool disinterest she’d intended to portray.
‘Well then,’ Esther said smugly. ‘Everyone’s happy. Let’s say no more about it.’
Lita had to bite her tongue. She often wondered what would happen if she stood up to her, but preferred to avoid confrontation. She knew that Esther, like all bullies, despised her perceived weakness. But what if she did lash out? There would be repercussions, bad ones, and they would probably start with Jude. He would never forgive her if she blew his big chance – and that, for the moment, was more important than anything else.
Lita ate her lunch as quickly as possible and then excused herself from the table. As she left the room, Esther was starting up with Mal again. Her voice was high and peevish, filled with resentment.
‘Why is he bringing Teddy into it after all those years? It stinks, all of it stinks. He’s out to cause trouble and you know it. And what are you doing? Encouraging him, that’s what. It’s complete madness. The creep doesn’t even —’
Lita closed the door behind her, shutting off the ongoing rant. She found herself curious about this Teddy, whoever he was. She could have put her ear to the door and tried to find out more, but she didn’t need to. Nick Trent was the man with the answers and he’d be here in less than an hour.
43
Lita stood on the second-floor landing where she had a perfect view of the drive. Just before two o’clock she saw a dark blue Vauxhall approaching the house, and hurried down the stairs and out of the door. Had she been the type of girl who judged a man by his motor, Nick Trent would have been condemned out of hand: it was old and dented and scratched, with one of the headlamps held together by sticky tape.
He got out and grinned. ‘I can see you’re admiring my car. It’s what I like to describe as vintage.’
Lita suspected he had a chip on his shoulder – she recalled that comment he’d made about the ‘beautiful people’ – and that this was his method of deflecting criticism. Make a joke and pretend you don’t care. ‘That’s one way of describing it. An old banger would be another.’
‘Would you like me to park it somewhere else?’
‘What for? It would look equally bad wherever you put it.’
Nick laughed. ‘Say it like it is, why don’t you?’
Lita glanced towards the house, hoping that Esther – if she looked out of the window any time over the next half-hour – would presume the car belonged to one of the people involved in the clear-up. By now everything had been more or less returned to its former glory, but some final tidying was still in progress. ‘I thought we could take a walk. It’s too nice to be inside.’
‘Sounds good to me.’