Camellia

by Lesley Pearse

  To Magnus it was nothing outstanding. Just crusty bread, chicken, ham, cheeses and salad. 'You must have had better than that,' he said disbelievingly.

  'Americans aren't picnic people,' she said. 'They go for lavish barbecues and stuff, but they somehow miss the point of picnics, which should be taking quite ordinary food somewhere extraordinary to eat it. My mother and I used to go to Victoria Park in Bethnal Green for picnics. We'd have bread and dripping in waxed paper, an apple each and a bottle of ginger beer, and that was a real feast.'

  Magnus knew exactly what she meant. He could remember sharing equally basic food in the woods around Craigmore with some of the other children who lived on the family estate. The fancy picnics he remembered going on with his parents and their friends were never as much fun.

  'So does Edward like bread and dripping picnics too?' he asked.

  'Actually he doesn't,' she said. 'In fact he finds it very irritating that I have such love for "common" things, particularly British common things.'

  'He sounds a bit of a snob.'

  She sighed. 'Oh Magnus, he is. I love him like a brother, we've been through so much together, and I've got everything to thank him for, but there are times when I wish I could walk away from him for good.'

  'Then why is he coming here to join you?'

  'Because he controls me, Magnus,' she said in a small voice. 'I feel guilty about telling you this. It makes me sound so disloyal when I've already said what a good friend he is. But I'm afraid it's true, and I'm too spineless to put a stop to it.'

  'You were never spineless,' Magnus said stoutly. 'From what Bonny had to say about this man, years ago, he wasn't great shakes as an actor and he was only a passable pianist. But then she was a bit jealous. So how come he got in a position to control you?'

  'I met Edward even before I met Bonny,' she said. 'We were partnered together in a comic sketch for the revue at the Phoenix. Bonny was one of the Dingle Belles. He was a few years older than me, a very correct, starchy young man and as it turned out, a very lonely one too. My friendship with Bonny began on VE Day when we got into some mischief together with a couple of GIs, but Edward and I were already firm friends.' She paused for a moment as if thinking how to explain.

  'Bonny and I were a case of opposites attracting, but Edward and I were more like twin souls in many ways. Like me he had no family, aside from a very old grandmother. We were both unsure of ourselves and we both loved the theatre passionately. Bonny provided all the excitement of a fun fair, Edward was the soothing voice of calm and reason. I loved them both.

  'Over the years I spent performing with Bonny, my friendship with her tended to dominate, just because of the way she was, but Edward was always there. Even when he was miles away in another town, I still kept in touch. I knew Bonny inside out, but I knew Edward too, and often he was the one I ran to when Bonny let me down. After Bonny got married and I made Soho, Edward and I became even closer. When I finally found myself in Hollywood in 1951, everything was so alien. People fawned round me, I couldn't make out who were good people and who were just using me. I needed someone I could trust implicitly and so I asked Edward to join me there.'

  Magnus nodded. He could quite understand the old Ellie giving an old friend a leg-up, but he still found it hard to imagine her being under anyone's control.

  'Well, once Edward arrived, I felt so much better. He soon became the buffer between me, the studio and the press. He was so good at organisation, and he helped me get a house, staff who could be trusted and how to handle my money. I introduced him to everyone as my manager, because that's exactly what he did, he managed me.'

  'Did you pay him?' Magnus asked.

  She didn't speak for a moment, but tucked her hand into his arm companionably. 'Maybe that was the first mistake. I should've had it on a proper business footing right from the start and drawn up lines of conduct. But that's hard to do with a good friend, isn't it? Edward had a private income you see, from his grandmother, so he didn't actually need a job as such. Of course I reimbursed him for all expenses and he had his own apartment in my house. He also had small parts in films sometimes, usually when they wanted an archetype English gentleman. As I've said, he handled my money for me, he paid the bills and acted as secretary and everything else. If that included a car for him or a new suit, that was all part of my expenses.'

  Magnus shook his head slowly. 'That sounds like a recipe for disaster.'

  'Not in the way you mean,' she corrected him. 'Edward accounted for every penny, spent by him and by me. Without him looking after my money for me I would probably have spent everything as fast as I earned it. He invested it for me and very wisely too. But what I didn't see coming was the danger of allowing myself to become so dependent on him. You see I had no decisions to make. I got up in the morning and my clothes for the day were laid out by the maid, instructed by him. The car arrived to take me to the studio, at the end of the day's shooting it took me home. Edward would decide which engagement to accept for me that night, he'd even advise the maid again what I should wear. More often man not Edward escorted me to these parties or functions. Hairdressing, manicures, massages, Edward arranged all that. His taste was impeccable. Before long he even shopped for clothes with me, or for me.'

  'That sounds monstrous,' Magnus exclaimed.

  'It does telling you now, while I'm sitting here as free as a bird and looking back on it,' she said with a funny little smirk. 'But at the time I was very glad of it. Each day's shooting was exhausting, and I was frightened by all the high-powered people around me. Edward made it possible for me to give my best each day without any worries. I didn't know then what I should wear to these dinner and cocktail parties, I was just glad he did.'

  'Didn't he have any lady friends?'

  She didn't answer immediately and Magnus repeated the question, remembering that Bonny had always claimed he was homosexual.

  'Yes, but never what you'd call romances,' she said warily. 'I mean he went out to meet women from time to time, but he never brought them home. He had always been a bit odd about women, Magnus. I think I'm the only one he ever really liked.'

  Magnus nodded. It sounded to him as if Bonny had been right. He didn't like the sound of him one bit.

  'So at what stage did you become depressed, and why?' Magnus thought it better to change the subject, even if it was still painful.

  She looked thoughtful.

  'I used to have panic attacks right back while I was making Soho,' she said. 'But I was on home ground then, surrounded by people who had my best interests at heart. But when I got to Hollywood they got far worse. I felt cut off, frightened; kind of intimidated by everything. I saw a doctor who gave me some tranquillisers, but though they helped me calm down, I sometimes felt I was losing touch with reality.'

  Magnus was beginning to get the picture: a beautiful talented young woman thrown into an artificial world peopled by hyenas and sharks who preyed on her vulnerability. 'But if Edward cared about you, didn't he try to get you sorted out?'

  She nodded. 'Oh yes, he tried. He took me to classes to learn relaxation exercises. He gradually weaned me off the pills and even encouraged me to have a drink rather than rely on tranquillisers. For a time I was much better, I was eating and sleeping well, but the downside was that I started to put on weight and the studio didn't like it. Finally, in 1961, I found a doctor to prescribe me some dieting pills and they worked. I drank only orange juice, I lost the weight, I felt on top of the world again for awhile, but they were addictive, Magnus. Soon one a day wasn't enough, it was three, four, six or even ten and I was so hyped up I couldn't sleep at night. Before long I was taking barbiturates to sleep, and something else to wake me up the next day. Edward would have stopped me had he realised what I was doing, but he didn't until it was too late.'

  Magnus listened in horror as she described the spiral she was trapped in. Loss of memory, the spurts of wild elation followed by black depression, and her ever increasing reliance on Edward to hol
d things together for her.

  'When the work dried up in the mid-sixties, he was still there for me,' she said in a low voice. 'Thanks to him, I was financially secure and I could afford to see the best psychiatrist in town.'

  Magnus didn't believe in psychiatrists. He couldn't see how the level-headed girl he'd once known could ever need that kind of 'quackery'.

  'Did this "shrink" help?' he asked.

  'In some ways, yes. He made me look deeply at myself. But as he was so very fond of telling me, I alone had to make the decisions to deal with what I'd learned and for a long, long time I did nothing about it. Those years were my "hermit" period. I rarely left my house and I saw no one. I read books, I swam in my pool, exercised a little, but I was almost suicidal and quite often I got drunk just to black it all out. If it hadn't been for Edward's continuing care and support I would probably have ended it all during one of these benders. Then one day when I'd finally given up hope of ever getting offered another part, Stanley Cubright came to see me with the script for Broken Bridges.'

  'And that pulled you together?'

  'It did. As I read it I knew the part was made for me. I had all the excitement I felt when I read Soho. Nothing had affected me like that for years. Edward was against it oddly enough. He said returning to England would make me feel more isolated, but for once I didn't listen. I just knew I must come home and make this film. So I accepted the part. And that's where you came in.' She paused, looking hard at Magnus.

  'Now could I have possibly said I didn't need or want Edward here with me after all he'd been through with me?'

  Magnus hardly knew what to say. On the face of it Edward Manning had been a saint and true friend, yet for all that he knew he wasn't going to like the man anymore than Bonny had done. 'I think you have to take control of your life again,' he said carefully. 'And if Edward is the friend he seems to be, he'll be happy to see you do that.'

  'Help me with him, Magnus,' she pleaded suddenly, clutching at his arm so hard her fingernails dug into his flesh.

  'You're frightened of him?' he said. 'Why Helena?'

  She loosened her grip instantly. 'I'm sorry,' she said blushing and dropping her eyes from his. 'Heavens above, Magnus, you're going to think I'm absolutely cuckoo now, or worse still that I'm going to add to your worries.'

  'I don't think either of those things,' he said firmly. 'But I'll offer you a deal.'

  'A deal?' she frowned.

  'Yes, you help Nick and myself find Mel so you can tell her yourself everything you know about her birth, and I'll help you keep yourself together until you can manage it all by yourself. If necessary I'll even elbow Edward out.'

  She hesitated.

  'Come on now,' he said more firmly. 'Surely you can do that?'

  'There's so much more than I've told you, Magnus.' Her voice dropped to almost a whisper.

  Magnus assumed she was talking about herself and Edward. 'You can tell me when you feel up to it,' he said. 'But we can put the business of finding Mel in hand straight away.'

  'You don't understand,' she said, her eyes filling with tears. 1 mean about Camellia. You see I can't see her until I'm ready to tell her the whole truth and I don't know if I have the courage for that.'

  Magnus turned right round on the seat until he was facing her squarely. He could see panic in those dark eyes, and her lower lip was trembling.

  'Is the truth that bad?' he asked, lifting her chin up, forcing her eyes to meet his.

  'Yes,' she whispered.

  'Will it be worse for Camellia than her hiding out in some strange town believing she's the cause of everyone's unhappiness?' he asked. 'Is it bad enough to deprive her of a man who loves her, a home where everyone cares for her?'

  'No,' she whispered. 'I want her to have all that. None of it is her fault.'

  'Then you have to find your courage, Helena,' he said. 'Otherwise you and I have no deal.'

  She was silent for some time, sitting absolutely motionless. Magnus wondered what could possibly be so bad that she needed so much time to think about it.

  'Okay,' she said at length. 'But what I have to tell her is for her ears only. I don't want you questioning me any more. If she chooses to keep what I tell her a secret then you must accept that decision.'

  'Fair enough,' Magnus stood up and held out his hand to her. 'Now shall we go and look at that cottage?'

  Helena took his hand and stood up. She smiled and suddenly the years fell away. She looked just the way she had as a young girl, the last time he'd seen her, in the dressing room of the Hippodrome in Catford in 1947. She had been repairing her stage costume, sitting in the corner wearing a shabby sweater and a tweed skirt. He was taking Bonny out for a late supper, planning to tell her it was the end of the line for them because Ruth was expecting Nick. That night he'd wished he had had the nerve to advise Ellie to get away from Bonny and pursue a solo career, yet he knew she was so loyal to her friend that she'd hang onto the bitter end.

  'You haven't changed much, Ellie,' he said softly, leaning forward to kiss her cheek, just as he had that last night.

  'Nor you, you handsome devil,' she laughed, her dark eyes dancing. 'But before we go gallivanting off to this cottage, I've got a couple of phone calls to make.'

  'Dare I go as far as to ask who to?' he said as they walked back across the lawn towards the house arm in arm.

  'To a couple of newspapers,' she said, looking round at him with an impish grin. 'One of them must want an exclusive on the faded Hollywood star who wants to find her old dancing partner's daughter.'

  'Make sure they go for it and I'll take you out to dinner,' he said. 'If they don't I'll throw you in the swimming pool fully dressed.'

  Magnus was still wide awake at two thirty in the morning, his mind churning over everything that had happened during the day. Helena was going up to London the next day for an interview with the News of the World. She'd taken the cottage in Kelston for an initial six months' rental with a view to buying it at a later date.

  The two-hundred-year-old thatched cottage was delightful, big enough for her to employ a live-in housekeeper if she wanted one, yet not too large that she couldn't live alone in it if she chose. The garden was exquisite with views over open countryside. The furniture, carpets and curtains the owners had left behind when they moved abroad were all entirely in keeping with character of the cottage, yet there were all the modern appliances Helena had grown used to in America.

  He was excited by the idea of finding Mel too. It was a far better plan to give Mel a chance to contact Helena without him being involved. That way she wouldn't feel she was being hunted down.

  But it was the questions he couldn't ask which were keeping him awake. Helena was frightened of Edward. It didn't make sense if he'd looked after her for all those years as protectively as she said. And even then, it didn't seem quite healthy for a man to bind himself to a woman with such devotion when the relationship was merely platonic: what had there been in it for Edward? And what was it that she knew about Bonny's past? It had to be pretty shocking to have made Helena so distressed. He hoped it wasn't going to make things any worse for Mel.

  On top of this Magnus felt a stirring inside himself towards Helena. He could argue with himself that he was an old fool and that she couldn't possibly be attracted to him, but yet when they were in the cottage together, exploring and examining everything, he'd felt absolutely certain her mind was in tune with his.

  They'd been standing in the kitchen, listening to the agent explaining how the Aga worked, when she'd suddenly giggled.

  'What's so funny about Agas?' Magnus asked her when the agent walked out of earshot.

  'Absolutely nothing,' she said. 'I just thought what a perfect excuse it would be to call up and ask you to come round and relight it.'

  'You don't need any excuse to get me to call,' he'd said. 'In fact you'd better start inventing them to keep me at bay.'

  'Magnus,' she said, tipping her head on one side and giving him that adora
ble wide smile, 'fate seems to have thrown us together again for some good reason. Maybe this is a chance for us both to grab some happiness.'

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  'Mel! Wake up!'

  She opened her eyes at Conrad's command, saw him standing beside her bed, and closed them again. 'It's Sunday,' she said sleepily. 'I don't get up early on Sundays, especially wet ones in September.'

  'You do for something like this,' he retorted and flicked back her curtains. 'Besides it's going to be warm and dry today.'

  The excitement in his voice rather than the bright sunshine forced her to respond. She lifted her head from the pillow, groaned when she saw it was only eight o'clock and slumped back, looking quizzically at Conrad. He was dressed in jeans and a checked shirt, flushed and panting as if he'd just run up the stairs.

  'It had better be good,' she said warningly, rubbing her eyes.

  'It's not just good, it's thrilling,' he replied, thrusting a newspaper into her hands. 'Read it!'

  'Something about Nick again?' She was suddenly wide awake and sat up eagerly, buttoning up her pyjama jacket. A couple of months ago she had read an article in a magazine about the making of a film for television called Delinquents in which Nick was co-starring with Daniel McKinley, a young actor who seemed to get his photograph in the papers almost daily. She hoped this was going to be Nick's big chance to prove himself.

  'No it's not Nick,' Conrad smiled ruefully. 'But I think it might be even better than that.'

  Conrad's Supper Rooms had been open now for six months and although they hadn't become a Mecca for the arty Chelsea set as Conrad had originally hoped, they were very popular with the young middle-class people who had moved into Fulham in the 1972 property boom. Conrad found these materialistic people stultifyingly boring. They seemed unable to talk about anything but investments and he sniggered at their clone-like tendency to turn their homes into identical Laura Ashley showrooms with waxed floors and stripped pine furniture. Yet however dull these people were, they appreciated good food and wine, tipped well and kept coming back.