by Lesley Crewe
Music and conversation mingled with the clink of glasses and the sound of cameras whirring. The network reporters given clearance to attend the party all insisted Ava pose with the Oscar. It was a dizzying round of flashing lights and fixed smiles, made suddenly better when Hayden came through the crowd. He held out his arms and she ran into them.
“How’s my girl? Too famous to associate with a struggling actor?” “Never,” she laughed. “How did you get in here? I thought it was invitation only.”
“I worked very hard for my invitation,” he smirked. “She’s called Dagmar.”
“You’re terrible, did you know that?”
He kissed her neck. “Why don’t we get out of here and have our own little party? Just you and me and Oscar.”
Ava looked over Hayden’s shoulder at her agent, who was walking proudly in and around the Hollywood big wigs, no doubt passing out his business card. “Trent wants me to show my face at a few more parties. How about I call you when I’m finished?”
“How about I go over to your house and let myself in? I’ll be the naked man under the covers.”
She laughed and reached in her clutch for the house key. As she did, her cell phone rang. She picked it up and looked to see if she recognized the number. Area code 902. “Excuse me Hayden. I’ve been waiting for this. It’s a call from home.”
She turned her back on him and put the phone to her ear. She covered her other ear with the palm of her hand, trying to hear over the din of revelers.
“Hello?”
It was her sister Rose.
“Did you see me?” Ava shouted with excitement.
“You were wonderful.”
“What did Ma and Aunt Vi think? Did you like my dress? I can’t remember what I said. Did I make a fool of myself?”
“Stop,” Rose pleaded. “Please. I have to tell you something and I can’t believe I have to do it now, but it’s Ma.”
Ava’s heart started to thud. “What about Ma?”
“I’m sorry honey, but she’s sick. She was diagnosed with cancer three weeks ago.”
“What? What do you mean three weeks ago? Why didn’t you tell me?!”
“She wouldn’t let us. She didn’t want to ruin anything for you, but I put my foot down tonight, because she had a bad spell today. The doctors don’t think it’s going to be too long.”
“Before what?”
“Before she dies. I’m very sorry love, but I think it’s time you came home.”
Ava slipped to the floor in a dead faint.
CHAPTER TWO
The jet was cleared for landing. The pilot’s voice came over the intercom.
“We’ll be landing in Sydney in a few minutes, Miss Harris.”
Ava pressed her forehead against the cold window and tried to see something, but there was nothing but swirling grey clouds and small raindrops hitting the glass.
“I wish it had been a nice day out,” she sighed. “The scenery is beautiful on a clear day. You can see nothing but green trees and blue water. Of course in the winter only the fir trees are green.”
“That’s nice.” Lola obviously wasn’t paying attention. She sat in the leather seat opposite Ava with her nose in Vogue. “Look at this. Your dress is being touted as one of the best at the Oscars.”
“I don’t want to talk about the Oscars.”
Lola put down the magazine. “Sorry, kiddo. You have more impor–tant things to worry about.”
Ava reached over and gave Lola’s knee a pat. “I can’t tell you what it means to me to have you here. I don’t think I could have come alone.” “Why is that?”
Ava shrugged and looked back out the window.
The grinding sound of the wheels being released signaled that it wasn’t going to be long now. Ava’s stomach was in knots. She gripped the arms of her chair and closed her eyes.
The touchdown was surprisingly smooth, and as the engines roared to a crescendo, the private jet slowed considerably. They approached the airport terminal, but Ava was too nervous to look out the window. She busied herself gathering up her possessions. Lola did the same. Ava had told Rose that they had a car to take them to the hotel in Sydney, but Rose had a bad habit of not listening to a thing anyone said.
And Ava was right. When she walked down the stairs of the plane in the frigid air, there was a mob of relatives waving in the terminal window.
“Oh, God.”
Ava walked towards them, stifling the urge to turn and run. It was this sort of display that embarrassed her horribly. She knew there was no need for them all to be there. They just wanted a look at the girl who ran away from home and became a famous actress.
“Who are they?” Lola whispered in her ear, as she hurried along with the tote bags. “Rabid fans?”
“This is my family. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Ava took a deep cleansing breath, walked through the two sets of doors and suddenly there was no escape. She was swarmed from all sides. Lola was pushed back against the wall by a wave of humanity.
“Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Aunt Viola screamed. “It’s herself, in the flesh.” She grabbed Ava in a death grip. “Oh girl, we can’t be–lieve it. Your Ma will be so happy to see you.” Auntie Viola weighed a good two hundred pounds, with hands like hams and a helmet of stiff hair lacquered into place with Aqua Net. Her several chins quivered with excitement.
“Hello, Aunt Vi.” Ava couldn’t expand her lungs, so tight was the hug she was locked in. Her arms hung limp by her sides.
“For jeezly sake, let her go,” Uncle Angus ordered, as everyone hopped up and down around them. “Come here, Libby.” Now it was his turn to grab her in a clinch. He looked exactly like Aunt Viola, except for the hair and the moustache. He didn’t have either.
“I prefer Ava, Uncle Angus.”
He held her at arm’s length. “You’ll always be Libby to me, my darlin’. Vi, look at this girl. She’s a beanpole! Don’t you worry, my love. We’ll fatten you up in no time.”
“I’m afraid my trainer would have your head.”
For the next ten minutes she was grabbed, kissed, hugged, pinched, and squeezed by her eight siblings and their families. Her teenaged nieces squealed like pigs at feeding time, while her nephews stared bug-eyed at her. Not that Ava saw them. She was blind from the cam–era flashes. Dots danced in front of her eyes and she couldn’t find Lola in the crowd.
“Lola?”
An arm rose and waved from inside the moving mob. “I’m here. Over here.” Lola propelled herself through the crowd with a flying elbow or two. She finally reached Ava’s side. “This is worse than a mosh pit!”
Ava grimaced. “It gets worse.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Trust me.”
Aunt Vi grabbed Lola. “Are you Ava’s best friend? Did you know you’re the spitting image of Liza Minelli?”
“Really?” Lola frowned. “Oh, dear.”
“The drink’ll do ya no good, my girl,” Aunt Vi tsked. “No good at all. Look what happened to Speed Bump.”
“Excuse me?”
“Speed Bump. Now there’s a sad case. Got loaded one night and didn’t Buddy Whatzhisname from up the road run him over with his brand new truck. Yep, a real sin.”
“He was killed?”
“No, my dear. He got up off his arse and went back to the Legion, but he’s never been the same since. I feel sorry for his mother.”
Ava had enough. “Excuse me, but I haven’t even had a chance to ask you about my mother.”
“Oh, she’s right good today,” Uncle Angus smiled. “Ain’t that so, Vi?”
Aunt Viola patted Ava’s hand. “She is, my love. She’s hanging on to see her baby.”
Ava felt her eyes begin to well up. She quickly turned to Lola. “You get the car sorted and I’ll meet you outside.”
Uncle Angus looked shocked. “What do you mean? You’re coming with us, surely?”
Ava hesitated. “Ah, no.” She waved Lola away. “Go. Go.”
Lola went.
Aunt Vi and Uncle Angus glanced at each other. Ava said hur–riedly, “Lola’s my assistant.”
“Your assistant?” they said together.
Rose was close enough to overhear the conversation. “Lord flyin’ dyin’. Imagine that. I need to get me one of those.”
Ava smiled at her. “I’ll lend her to you.”
“Deal.”
“Look, I appreciate the fact that you came to meet me, but I’m tired and I need to get myself sorted before I go and see Ma. Can we meet at the hospital in an hour?”
Rose spoke first. “She’s not there anymore. She’s at home.”
“But I thought…”
“She wants to die at home, Libby. With her pain medication and the V.O.N. coming in, she’s much more comfortable in her own bed.” “I see. Well, I’ll meet you back at the house as soon as possible. Tell her I’m coming.” Before anyone could object, Ava pushed her way through the crowd of excited relatives. Then, to her horror, she real–ized the press was there, with another gang of on-lookers and fans. She turned back and looked to her sister. “I thought I told you not to tell anyone I was coming?”
“I only told Myrtle Beaver at Bingo.”
Ava couldn’t believe it. “Megaphone Myrtle?”
“Oh, get over yourself,” Rose frowned. “You know damn well you can’t keep a secret like this, so why try?”
“Fine. Never mind.” Ava pulled her cashmere shawl closer around her shoulders and made a dash for it. Lola was outside beside the limo’s open door. She waved Ava on, as if she were coaching third base. Ava jumped in the car, Lola right behind her. The adoring fans mobbed the vehicle, but at least the screaming was muffled.
Ava sank back into the leather seat. “Oh my god. What am I go–ing to do? I’m trying to visit my dying mother and suddenly this has turned into a publicity tour.”
“Who let the cat out of the bag?”
“Rose, of course. She never could keep her mouth shut.”
“I hate to say it,” Lola smirked, “but it seems to run in your family.”
“Don’t I know it,” Ava sighed.
Elizabeth Ruby MacKinnon, a.k.a. Ava Harris, was the baby in a family of nine, with seven years between her and her next sister, Rose. She’d known from a very early age that she was “the change” baby. She used to lie awake at night and wonder what that meant, exactly. It didn’t sound very good and the fact that her mother was often im–patient and cross with her didn’t help matters. Rose would tell her not to worry, that of course their mother loved her. But there was always a niggling doubt that pulled at Ava’s thoughts. Try as she might to ignore it, it coloured everything.
Things became worse when her father was killed in the mine when she was eight. He was the only one in the house who never said a word to her. Everything Libby did was okay by him. Not that she saw him much. For a few minutes after he’d scrubbed the coal dust off his body and had a hefty plateful of Ma’s homemade beans and corn bread. She’d sit on his lap in his rocking chair and inevitably, just as things got interesting and everyone was filling him in about their day, she’d be whisked off to bed.
Despite her protests, her father would kiss the top of her head and tell her to listen to her Ma. “Goodnight, Peanut,” he’d say. Usually it was Rose who pulled her up the stairs and tucked her in.
But Libby never stayed under the covers for long. She learned to move silently through the house, often hiding in closets if one of her siblings charged up the stairs or down the hall unexpectedly. Once she hid under the dining room table to listen in on a heated conversa–tion between her parents and one of her older brothers. She couldn’t believe they didn’t see her. They walked right by as if she were invis–ible. She made funny faces at her mother the next morning to see if she really was invisible. A quick cuff on the ear and a “smarten up” set her straight.
The day their father died, she curled up in her father’s rocking chair and screamed blue murder when her siblings tried to take her upstairs to bed. They eventually had to leave her there. She slept in that chair for a month, until finally, at her wits’ end, her mother threatened to throw her fairy doll in the wood stove if she didn’t stop her nonsense.
The thing that bothered Libby the most was when her mother came to school for some reason. Most of her friends had young, pretty mothers. Libby told some girls in her class that her Ma was really her Nana. Somehow it got back to her brothers and sisters and she got in trouble. There wasn’t much she didn’t get in trouble for, or so it seemed. With so many siblings expressing their opinions about her misdemeanors, she always felt she was letting someone down, no matter how she handled a situation. It was exhausting.
Ava got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her head. She slipped on the hotel bathrobe and walked back to the king size bed. She threw herself on the mattress, face first, and groaned.
Lola shouted from the open door of the adjoining suite. “That doesn’t sound too encouraging!”
“Kill me.”
“Sorry, if I do that, I’ll be out of a job and you know I’m up to my eyeballs in debt.”
Ava turned over on her back and smirked. “And whose fault is that?” “Yours.”
“Oh?”
“Yippers. You look so damn good I have to spend a fortune to keep up appearances.”
Ava tugged at her hair, looking for split ends. “What a lot of horse–radish. The only reason I look good is Maurice, and he’s not here at the moment, so you have no worries on that score.”
“True that.”
“Besides,” she laughed, “when I’m around, no one looks at you anyway.”
A pillow sailed through the door and landed on Ava’s head. Lola followed suit. They tousled with the pillow for a moment but Ava won. She put it over her own face. “Do it. End it all.”
Lola tore the pillow away from her. “No. I’m dying to meet your family properly and see where you grew up. It can’t be as awful as you say.”
“Oh, yes it can.”
“So, who cares? I’m still dying to see it. Did you live in a big house?”
“No. It’s about the size of my bedroom closet.”
“Then it’s gigantic.”
“Hush up, Lo. I don’t want to go back there.”
Lola stopped clowning around and sat up against the head board. “Why? It’s your family. You sound like you’re afraid of them.”
Ava stared at the ceiling. “I guess I am.”
“Don’t be silly. They love you.”
When she didn’t answer, Lola shoved her with her toe. “I’m right.”
“They don’t know me well enough to love me.”
“That’s because you don’t let people in.”
“Not this again.” Ava sat up. “I let you in, didn’t I?”
“And you regret it enormously.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Ava smiled. “I’ve got to get dressed. What should I wear?”
“Something black.”
“She’s not dead yet.”
“Then something white, it might cheer her up.”
“I’ll look like an angel come to take her to the other side. I don’t want her to have a heart attack on top of everything else.”
“Wear what you want,” Lola shrugged.
“I can see now why I pay you the big bucks. You’re indispensable.”
Lola got off the bed and sauntered into her room. “Remember that when my Christmas bonus comes around.” She shut the door behind her and left Ava to fend for herself.
Ava tried on a half a dozen outfits and got annoyed that she was dithering about it. Standing in front of the mirror didn’t help. “Just put something on and get it over with.” She walked over to the win–dow and looked out on a typical Cape Breton winter day in February. Everything she had wasn’t warm enough. She’d have to buy a winter coat or she’d freeze.
In the end she wore a pair of jeans and an oversized sweater, with her h
air in a ponytail. She wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible. Trouble was, with her suede Steve Madden platform booties, Burberry trench coat, and Louis Vuitton handbag, she wasn’t fooling anyone. Putting on oversized sunglasses didn’t help matters.
Lola came out in a pinstriped pantsuit and did a double take. “You’re wearing that!?”
Ava looked down at herself. “What’s wrong with this?”
“It’s pretty casual, don’t you think?”
“So?” She grabbed her hotel key. “I don’t want a big fuss.”
Lola sniffed as she grabbed her purse and coat. “No worries then, because no one will make a fuss over you in that.”
“Why do I keep you in my life?”
Lola pinched Ava’s cheek. “Because you love me.”
Ava yanked the door open and walked through it. “Don’t be so sure.”
Following her out and down the hall to the elevator, Lola said, “Listen kid, if it weren’t for me you’d be a mess. We can’t have you believing your own press, can we? Who else is gonna tell you the truth?”
Ava punched the elevator button and then put her arm through her friend’s, her head resting on Lola’s shoulder. “I know. Thank God you’re here. Thank you for coming with me, I couldn’t have done it alone.”
Lola patted her hand. “That’s the second time you’ve said that. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”
When they got off the elevator a crowd of teenaged girls accosted them.
“Oh please, can I have your autograph, Miss Harris?” they all said at once.
Ava put on her fake smile and murmured, “How sweet. So kind.” That was Lola’s cue. She put her hands up. “Girls, it’s lovely of you to come out tonight, but Miss Harris is here on personal family business. It’s a sad occasion, so I’m sure you understand. Thank you.” Then she pulled Ava along through the protesting girls and managed to hustle her into the car.
“Sometimes I get tired of this,” Ava sighed.
“And sometimes you don’t, you little diva.”
Ava watched the scenery go by on the twenty-minute car ride to Glace Bay. Most of it was familiar, but there were a lot of changes, enough to make her realize she was away a long time. Ten years, a significant portion of her life—she was only twenty-eight. (Though Trent insisted her official biography read twenty-three.)