Secrets of Cavendon

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  It was midnight, in the summer of 1924, when he had gone. He felt no regret, only profound relief as he walked away from the despair, drunkenness, and doom.

  Plodding along, heading for the main road to London at a steady pace, he had made another vow to himself. He would not touch alcohol, not as long as he lived. And he never had.

  Once he had felt tired, he had found a hedge, and gone into it, burrowing into the hedgerow, had eaten an apple, and eventually he had fallen asleep.

  The next morning he had begged for food from the kind woman who opened her kitchen door to him. Taking pity on the boy, she brought him inside, fed him bacon and eggs. He had repaid her by stealing her purse from the kitchen dresser when her back was turned.

  Nights spent in hedgerows, haystacks, barns, and fields; days stealing food and anything else he could find. He had turned out to be a good little thief. He had managed.

  On the last leg of his journey, Adam had hitched a ride with a young man driving a shiny new car. But it turned out to be a disastrous ride. When Adam had asked the young man to stop alongside a wood so he could relieve himself, the man sneaked after him and had tried to rape him.

  Adam had reacted angrily, had had no alternative but to use the penknife. He had stabbed the young man in the arm and neck to prevent the sexual attack on himself. Struggling to his feet, he had taken the man’s money and run off. He knew he had only wounded his assailant.

  Understanding that he must put distance between the wounded man and himself, Adam had turned off the main road once he had noticed a signpost pointing toward Harrow. It was not quite London, but Adam was aware the city was very close.

  Although he did not know it, at that moment in time, this choice was the luckiest thing Adam could have done. He had been out of breath and panting when he had seen the public house. It was called the Golden Horn. He had seated himself on a wooden bench outside the pub, which was not yet open, endeavoring to catch his breath, hoping to recoup his strength.

  Closed though it was, the publican, the keeper of the tavern, had spotted the boy through the window. He had come out to question him, and immediately noticed that the young boy looked worn out, impoverished, and very dirty. When he had asked him if something was wrong with him, Adam had answered that he was exhausted, thirsty, and needed a drink of water.

  The publican, Jack Trotter by name, had gone back into the pub, swiftly returned with a tankard of fresh water. After pushing it toward the boy, he had introduced himself and had asked his name.

  Adam told him and then he had launched into a sad and touching tale of despair, poverty, and abuse. He had explained he was running away to London.

  Trotter had quickly discovered Adam had no relatives or friends in the city, and no job to go to, and impulsively he had decided to take him in, if only for a few weeks. He had felt the need to help get the boy on his feet.

  Before he could do that, Trotter had had to go and discuss this unexpected matter with his brother, Timothy, who ran the tavern with him. The Trotter brothers had returned, after mulling it over, and had invited Adam into the public house.

  After he had listened to their offer, Adam had accepted it. He had agreed he would clean the brass decorations hanging on the walls, mop the floors, and clean the bar. In return, he was told he could live in the small barn and that they would provide food. They had promised him a small wage.

  The bonus, as Adam had soon discovered, was the clothes Jack Trotter had offered him. Jack’s son, Tommy, had been killed in a road accident a year before at the age of sixteen, and Trotter had still been grieving. This was one of the reasons the publican had decided he must help this poor young boy, in memory of the son he had so tragically lost.

  Adam had never forgotten Jack Trotter and how he had helped him when he was a boy. And eventually, as the years passed, he had also come to realize that Jack had done something else of major importance, quite aside from taking him in.

  One night, just after he had arrived at the Golden Horn, Jack had taken him to a picture house in Harrow. It was the first time he had ever seen a film. And in so doing he had changed Adam’s life, put him on the right path, however unwittingly. Adam had fallen in love with the moving pictures he saw up there on the screen. Nothing would keep him away from films ever again.

  * * *

  Patient listener though he was, Adam now noticed that Alicia was looking nervous, and he said swiftly, “Sorry to interrupt, Mario, old chap, but I think we must now depart. Leave Miss Stanton alone. She will have to go to Makeup soon…” He let his voice trail off, and smiled at Mario, never wanting to offend the older man.

  Alicia, filled with relief, immediately exclaimed, “I must do that, Mario, as much as I’ve enjoyed talking to you. I start shooting around noon. My first scene.”

  “My goodness! I am taking up too much of your time. So sorry, my dear.” Mario rose and gave her a peck on the cheek.

  Adam stood and so did Alicia. He walked toward her, smiling, and shook her hand. “Break a leg,” he said in a low tone, using the old theatrical good-luck wish.

  She smiled back, gazing into his gray, translucent eyes, and gave him a knowing look. Without saying a word, she had conveyed her relief that he had broken this session up. He was aware she was already feeling grateful to him.

  Eighteen

  As she walked toward Claridge’s, Alicia was glad she was not filming today. It was Friday, the last day of September, and her day off. The weather was glorious. She was also happy she had agreed to have lunch with Constance Lambert. She really did need to talk to her friend and agent about a number of things.

  The staff of the hotel greeted her warmly as she walked through the lobby and went into the Causerie, one of her favorite places.

  Constance was already seated on a banquette and waved to her as she went in; a moment later she was sitting down next to the older woman.

  Alicia couldn’t help thinking how chic Constance looked, but then she had great style and panache. Alicia said, “Nobody does it like you, Constance. You’re always so well put together, and I see you’re wearing a Swann dress.”

  “When am I not? And thank you for the compliments. By the way, I saw Cecily the other day, when she was at the shop in Burlington Arcade, down for her monthly visit, she told me. She also confided that she has reorganized her business and is only going to make couture clothes from now on. No ready-mades anymore. I told her I thought it was a good move.”

  “And I said the same thing when I was at Cavendon in August. What are you drinking, Connie? Champagne? I think I’ll have a glass.”

  Constance chuckled. “No, it’s ginger ale. I asked them to put it in a champagne flute because it seems to taste better. You see, I’m on a diet at the moment, but let me order you a glass of bubbly, darling.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, if you’re not drinking—”

  “Tell you what,” Constance cut in. “I’ll join you, to hell with the diet. I think I should toast you. After all, you’ve had a wonderful run these last few weeks, excellent dailies, so I hear.”

  Alicia nodded. “Yes, I know. I do hope I haven’t offended Adam Fennell. He invited me to watch the rushes one night last week, and I said I couldn’t. You know how I hate watching the daily takes. I don’t want to see myself on the screen until the film is finally finished, cut and edited.”

  “Why do you think you may have offended him?”

  “Because I haven’t seen him for several days nor heard a word from him, and he’s normally quite attentive to me.”

  Constance frowned. “I know you don’t want to see the dailies, and I’m sure that’s in your contract. I’ll have to double-check later. What I do know is that he raved about your performance so far to Felix, and even hinted about your being in the next film. No worries.” A thought suddenly hit her, and she said softly, “Are you interested in Adam?”

  Alicia stared at her, and felt a flush rising from her neck to flood her face. For a second, she was unable to speak, une
xpectedly understanding how much she was interested in him. She merely nodded.

  Constance smiled knowingly and beckoned to a waiter, ordered two glasses of Veuve Clicquot, then sat back, looking intently at Alicia. “So, you want to know all about him? Is that it?”

  “I suppose,” Alicia answered in a low voice.

  “First things first. He’s not married and never has been, to my knowledge. He’s a bit older than you, in his late thirties, I think.”

  A smile slipped onto Alicia’s face. “It’s good to know he’s not a married man. I avoid them like the plague. How long has he been in the picture business?”

  “About ten years or so, not much longer. He’s been extremely successful, worked his way up through the ranks rather quickly. He was with Korda. I don’t know how that came about, but I believe Sir Alex mentored him for a time. Now he’s out on his own. Felix says Adam’s got the golden touch, that films he’s involved with always take awards, and, more importantly, they’re box office hits.”

  “I knew that, which is why I was happy to take this part.” Alicia hesitated for a moment, and then asked, “Is there a woman in his life? Or wouldn’t you know that?”

  “I think I would, yes. You know what show business is like. There’s always a lot of gossip. And I have to add this. When I’ve run into him at events over the years, he’s always alone or with a group. I’ve never seen a woman on his arm, darling.”

  “He’s been very nice to me, Constance, charming, actually. He and Mario sent flowers the first day. That’s sort of normal, since I’m the female lead. But the following week Adam sent me a little bouquet of white roses. There was a note. All it said was Congratulations, Adam. And he’s popped his head around my dressing room door several times, and merely said, ‘Hello, good work,’ or something like that. Then ever since I declined his invitation to see the rushes he’s not been around at all.”

  Constance shook her head. “It’s meaningless. So far he’s had nothing but praise for you. Maybe he’s been at his office in London, and not out at the studio. Do you want me to dig around a bit?”

  “Oh no! Don’t do that! I’d be embarrassed if he knew I was asking questions about him—” Alicia paused when the waiter arrived with the champagne.

  Constance picked up her flute and so did Alicia and they clinked glasses. Constance said, “Here’s to you, my darling, I think you’re on to be a big winner.”

  Alicia gave her a cheeky look. “I’m not sure if you’re referring to the movie or the man.”

  “I think I mean both, actually.” Constance took a sip of champagne, and went on, “Look, are you really and truly interested in Adam? Going on a date with him? Seeing where it leads?”

  Alicia nodded, and took a swallow of champagne. “I know that only two months ago I was weeping over Brin, and the way he dumped me, crying my eyes out. And on your shoulder, no less. Still, I did get over him when I thought everything through at Cavendon. I suddenly understood that his behavior had been horrible. Unacceptable.”

  “And then you started working on the film, met Adam. And what?” Constance raised a dark brow eloquently.

  “I liked him that first day at the studio. Then I found myself charmed by him. He does have a lot of charisma, and he’s good-looking…” Clearing her throat, Alicia added, “For the last ten days, when I got home at night, I found I was thinking about him. A lot. And several times, when I ran into him accidentally on the soundstage, or the backlot, I felt…” She stopped and whispered, “Sexually attracted to him.”

  “I can understand that. I think many women would feel the same way. He’s quite a man. Listen, here’s a plan. Why don’t I have Felix invite him to dinner? Let’s say next Friday, since you don’t film on the weekends.”

  “That will be all right with me, but would he accept?”

  “If he’s not busy he will. He’s always accepted our invitations, and he has reciprocated in turn—” Constance broke off and said, “Oh my God! Don’t move a muscle and don’t turn your head. Adam is walking in here with another agent, Bob Griffin. He hasn’t seen us yet, but he will when he sits down.”

  Alicia could not speak. She just gaped at Constance, who took hold of her hand and muttered, “My God, you’re shaking like a leaf.”

  Adam and the theatrical agent he was with sat down on a banquette at the other side of the Causerie. And Adam spotted them at once. He turned his head, said something to the agent, got up, and strode across to their table.

  “How lovely to see you, Constance, and you too, Alicia. Mario and I are extremely pleased with your work, very impressed.” He smiled at her, his gray eyes focused on hers.

  “Thank you. That makes me happy.” Alicia was surprised her voice was steady. It startled her that she could not look away from him.

  Constance seized the moment. “Felix and I were just talking about you earlier, Adam. We were thinking of inviting you to join us and Alicia for supper tonight. He was going to phone you. He probably has already. And now, how fortuitous that you’re here. Are you by any chance free this evening?”

  “Not until about eight-thirty. I have friends coming for drinks at my flat at six-thirty. Oh, here’s a thought. Perhaps you would like to join me? Then the four of us could go to supper afterward.”

  “How wonderful,” Constance exclaimed. She looked at Alicia. “That is all right with you, isn’t it, my dear?”

  “It would be lovely,” Alicia said and managed, finally, to tear her gaze away from Adam’s face.

  He now looked directly at Constance and inclined his head, offered her his biggest smile. “All of this is just marvelous. You know where I live, don’t you, Constance? You and Felix have been to my flat before.”

  “Yes, we have. It’s in Bryanston Square.”

  He nodded. “See you later, Constance, Alicia.”

  He was gone in a flash, rejoined the agent on the banquette across the room, and started talking to him immediately.

  Constance said, “Wow, you really reacted to him! He did to you, too. I noticed that he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Listen, this was such a lucky coincidence, Adam coming here for lunch, don’t you think?”

  “I do. Were you really talking about him this morning?”

  “No. I just invented that on the spur of the moment, grabbed a chance to invite him. I’ll fill Felix in later. Now let’s look at the menu and order lunch, shall we?”

  “I’m not very hungry, Constance. I think I was somewhat thrown when Adam suddenly appeared.”

  “He excites you, doesn’t he?” Constance murmured knowingly.

  “Very much,” Alicia whispered.

  “I think I’ll book a table at the Savoy Hotel for supper. Carroll Gibbons and his orchestra … perfect. You can be in his arms by ten o’clock tonight. On the dance floor, I mean.”

  * * *

  “Alicia Stanton on the rocks.” Victoria read the caption out loud, looked at the art editor of Elegance Magazine, and laughed. “Very clever, Tony. I love it.”

  “And I was bowled over by your photographs, as you know. There’s something awesome about the monoliths, and they’re a great backdrop for the bouffant pink tulle evening gown covered in gold sequins. Hard and soft … the huge stones make it pop out on the page.”

  Still smiling, Victoria focused on the rest of the magazine spread, covering six pages, which Tony had just finished earlier that morning.

  “I’m so glad Alicia wore the red silk dress and coat in the maze. A wonderful splash of vivid color amidst all the green hedges. I stood on a ladder, two paths away, to shoot it.”

  Tony del Renzio nodded. “I figured that out, love,” he answered, grinning at her. “I hope the caption’s not too corny. In a daze in the maze.”

  “I think it’s amusing. What did Melinda say?”

  “She laughed, okayed the entire spread before she left for Paris an hour ago. She asked me to give you this.” He picked up an envelope on the desk behind him and handed it to her. “I think it’s your
new assignment.”

  “Do you know what it is?”

  “Only vaguely. Read the note.”

  Victoria did as he asked. Her eyes scanned the memo from the editor in chief:

  Dear Victoria,

  You wowed me with your Alicia pictures. Congratulations. Tony has done you proud with his highly creative layout. I am planning a story on Christopher Longdon, Britain’s greatest war hero. Do a little research on him. Plan a shoot. He’s starting a charity for war veterans. It’s going to be one of our more serious pieces. Think hero. Bravery. Hero. We’ll talk later.

  Have a good weekend.

  Melinda

  Victoria reread the note and then stared at Tony. “Isn’t Christopher Longdon in a wheelchair?” She frowned, made a moue, and added, “He’s paralyzed, if I remember correctly.”

  “Only partially, from what I understand.”

  “This is one difficult shoot ahead of me, don’t you think? I mean a man in a wheelchair doesn’t give me too many photographic options.” She felt uneasy, concerned already.

  “I think you’ll have to be inventive. That’s not a problem for you, Vicki. From what little I know, I believe he has one leg that is totally shattered, gone. On the other hand, he does sometimes use crutches, so his right leg works, I suppose.”

  Victoria turned away from the long worktable where the layout was spread out and sat down in a chair. Tony went and stood behind his desk, gazing across at her. “Don’t look so glum, ducks, you’ll be able to manage. Apparently he’s very charming.”

  A sigh escaped, and Victoria now asked, “Do you know where he lives? I have a feeling it’s somewhere in the country.”

  “No, actually, Christopher Longdon has a house close to Hampstead Heath. And listen, according to Melinda, there’s plenty of people to help you, such as a physical trainer and an assistant, and both are men. There’s also household staff. She also told me there’s a beautiful garden. So, plenty of possibilities, I think.”