“THOSE DIAMONDS ARE MINE YOU BITCH!” she screamed.
Vivien was just a scary couple of metres away from me and I found myself transfixed. I could see her neck veins bulge in rage. Then swiftly, but as if in slow motion, I saw Gabby step into the firing line and slap Vivien sharply across the face as, at the same time, Vivien hurtled her handbag through the air. It knocked me smack on my forehead and sent me sprawling backwards onto the lawn.
I lay flat on the grass for what seemed an eternity, more from the shock of being smacked across the head with a curiously heavy handbag than by the actual injury. She must have put a rock or something in that bag before hurling it at me.
In a flash, Lionel was down on his knees by me.
“Honey, are you alright?”
I meekly nodded my head.
“Just get that lunatic out of here.” I wasn’t too sure if I said it aloud or not, but Gabby took firm hold of Vivien and roughly marched her out.
Slowly, with Lionel supporting me, I got to my feet and hobbled down the pathway that led to the cottage. When Lionel and I reached the dividing gate, I turned to him and looked him straight in the eye. His intense green eyes were deep with concern. I felt so confused. At one moment I'd been happily dancing in his arms, the next I was under attack from his ex. Vivien had declared that the earrings I'd proudly worn throughout the evening were, in fact, hers. For all I knew (and for all I cared), she might have been telling the truth. Who was to know if Lionel had whispered the same words to her as he'd done to me, offering the family heirloom to Vivien in a moment of passion as he had offered them to me tonight? Was this a final attempt to win me over and woo me into his bed?
I inwardly laughed at Lionel’s possible foolishness, for he'd won me over the first evening we'd sat together in the Nevada desert. He'd made me laugh when I was down. He'd won me then, I realised, despite my infatuation at the time with Robbie. I'd fallen for him weeks ago, and not even all the diamonds in the world could have made me desire him more. Money and riches didn’t mean anything to me. But at this moment, head throbbing, party trashed, I just wanted to be alone.
“Lionel,” I said and I knew my voice sounded sad, “I’m not going to be good company right this minute. I would really appreciate it if you just joined your other guests and got the party going again so that this evening doesn’t turn into a complete shambles. We can meet tomorrow if you like, but right now I’ve just got to be by myself.”
Without saying a word, Lionel leaned forward and tenderly kissed me on the forehead, right where Vivien’s handbag had landed, and moved off towards the main house.
I was left alone and I felt totally depressed. I'd been looking forward to this evening for so long, and with so much expectation, that the blow, in more ways than one, was a real let-down. I was, to say the least, totally pissed off. I unfastened the lace dress and slipped into bed and before I knew it I must have passed out. What with the martinis I'd drunk and the bash on the head, it wasn’t really surprising.
Chapter Eleven
At 5.30 am on the dot, I was wide awake. I wondered if Gabby’s influence would haunt me for the rest of my life as I found myself stepping out of bed and rummaging around for my running gear. My head felt truly sore and I rebuked myself for having drunk so much alcohol the night before, totally forgetting for an instant Vivien’s little showdown, until I paused in front of the dressing table mirror and gasped out loud. My forehead looked like it had grown a lemon overnight. No wonder it was hammering away. I also gazed at the diamond chandeliers which still hung from my earlobes, having forgotten to remove them the previous night before clambering into bed. Every time I look at these earrings I’ll be reminded of one of the most wretched nights of my life, I reflected as I removed them carefully and placed them safely into my knickers drawer, making a mental note to return them to Lionel, or even directly to Gabby, as soon as possible.
Maybe one day I’ll be able to laugh about last night’s unfortunate incident, I thought, as I raised my hand to my forehead and felt the bump. Or perhaps not. Even my optimism has its limits.
Head still thumping away I did an easy jog down to the ocean shore. It was probably not the brightest idea to go for a run with a splitting headache, but the fresh ocean breeze helped to revive me, and I paused for an instant taking in the glimmering indigo surf. Huge waves were crashing down on the shore, reflecting, it seemed, my own personal turbulence. I paused for a moment longer, and just as I was about to kick off again into my steady jog I became aware of a slight high-pitched scream. I looked around me trying to pinpoint where the cry had come from. Apart from the crashing waves the morning was silent. I turned to gaze once more into the ocean’s swell, and it was then that I caught a glimpse of something bobbing in the water before being sucked under by the strong currents.
I stood motionless, eyes fixed on the dipping surf. There it was again, and this time I could clearly make out an arm that was thrashing out in an attempt to remain afloat. A head was half out of the water, too, and dark blonde hair was floating around. Without thinking of the possible risks I kicked off my trainers and stripped off my T- shirt before diving into the stormy water. My heart was hammering away and the adrenaline that charged through my entire body made breathing difficult.
As the first booming wave approached I let myself float to the crest, from where I was able to get a clearer view of the bobbing head. I wondered if there was a shark in the water that was taking the body down instead of the strong currents. I could deal with the waves, but the thought that there might be a great white lurking under the murky depths almost knocked me out cold. Pushing all panicky thoughts from my mind I concentrated on swimming with powerful strokes in the direction of the drowning figure. As I crested the next roll of menacing waves I was aware that the figure was no longer floating. I turned in the water hunting for any signs of movement. At least ten seconds passed in eerie stillness before the blonde head emerged once more, thankfully just a few metres away.
I approached in solid stokes and had an inkling that I recognised the struggling figure before me. Then it clicked; of course I knew the half-drowned blonde, though, I swear to God, what confirmed that it was, indeed, Vivien, were her huge boobs which seemed to act as lifebuoys. How could she possibly sink with those two balloons holding her up?
And down she went again.
I plunged under after her. Eyes open, I could just about make out her dark silhouette in the murky depths, and reached out for her hair, which sprayed upwards. I firmly caught hold and pulled upwards whilst I simultaneously kicked downwards.
Getting our bodies level, I put my arm around her waist locking her to me. She was, at this point, either totally unconscious from her struggle or too weak to move as she remained limp at my side, but to my despair we sank downwards together instead of returning to the surface. It was then that I became aware that the daft cow had tied a diver's weight belt around her waist, and this was what was dragging us down. I struggled to unclasp the belt, desperate to breathe and get some oxygen pumping into my lungs, but I knew if I was to let go of Vivien then there was no chance of saving her.
Somehow, after much fumbling, the clasp came undone and the heavy belt sank with shocking speed downwards to the ocean's bed. With one last effort I kicked hard and we both started ascending towards the surface. The water lightened with each approaching kick, and just as I was about to erupt from lack of oxygen we broke the surface and I gulped for fresh air.
I turned onto my back in an attempt to recover somewhat, floating Vivien face-upwards, half beside and half on top of me. What a stupid fucking cow! I wanted to scream. Her attempt to commit suicide had almost worked. Although she'd obviously regretted her action on finding herself half-drowned, she was obviously still too pissed from the previous evening's load of alcohol to unfasten her diver's belt and, what with the huge waves, had almost accomplished what she'd so crazily set out to do – and had nearly taken me with her.
I should have felt sorry fo
r her, and I guess I did, but right now all I wanted was to reach firm ground.
I took my time, not out of personal desire but because my poor legs just wouldn't go any faster against the strong current. Agonisingly, it seemed to be five kicks towards land, three paces back. A bit like country dancing, actually, but without all the fun. There were a couple of close calls when several huge waves crashed down around us, but eventually, miraculously, I felt the soft sand underfoot. Stumbling as I went, I clasped Vivien under her armpits and heaved her a couple of metres onto the beach. I laid her down and felt for her pulse; thankfully, though feeble, it was there. Her breathing, however, had stopped. I checked that there was nothing obstructing the inside of her mouth and positioned her for mouth-to-mouth. The one and only time I'd done artificial resuscitation was when I'd tested for my life-saving Bronze Medallion down at Morden swimming baths, and I'd practised on a plastic life-sized doll. As I looked down at Vivien, with her big silicone lips and huge breast implants, there didn't actually seem to be much difference. It was such a callous thought, especially at such a delicate time, but deep down I knew the motive. I was just as jealous of Vivien as she was of me. The difference was that I didn't go hurtling my handbag around in an attempt to vent my feelings.
After several bouts of blowing down her open mouth I sat back exhausted and checked if she was breathing unaided. My answer came as she threw up all over me, despite my quick attempt to turn her to one side. Leaving her in the recovery position I scanned the horizon. I didn't want to leave Vivien alone in case she had a relapse.
"Come on, Gabby," I said to myself. "It's not like you to be late."
As if on cue, I could just make out Gabby's gleaming red head bobbing as she jogged steadily down the path that led to the sand and Ocean. I was up on my feet and started jumping, flapping my arms about as I shouted, "GABBY, GABBY, GABBY."
I called out over and over until I was sure that she'd spotted me. She was by my side in a flash. On seeing Vivien unconscious she extracted her minuscule mobile phone, dialled 911 and asked for an ambulance. Totally bushed, I collapsed on the sand beside Vivien.
When the rescue team arrived I heard them ask Gabby, "Which is the bimbo that half-drowned?"
***
Despite the medical team's urging that I go to hospital for a check–up, I refused. I was fine; slightly shaken up, but all right. Gabby agreed to escort Vivien to the hospital, and promised to check on me the moment she returned.
It was early afternoon when she knocked on the front door to the bungalow. I’d left the door open and was sprawled out on the sofa, with the shades down to keep out the blinding sunshine. My head was still thumping.
"How’re you feeling?" Gabby asked concerned.
"Okay," I replied, though in all truth, despite my life-saving adventure, I felt thoroughly crestfallen. Firstly (and most importantly), because I'd anticipated a visit from Lionel during the course of the morning, as I was sure that he would've heard about my heroic activities. Secondly, because I'd had time to think about Vivien's action. It had sunk in that she loved Lionel so much that she'd been willing to end it all on the realisation that he, Lionel, didn't love her as much as she loved him. It was such a poignant notion that I couldn't stop fretting over it.
"I'd like to go and visit Vivien," I said to Gabby in a sudden gesture of compassion. Gabby looked at me rather surprised and remained silent, perhaps to give me time to change my mind. But my mind was made up.
"Also," I added, as I got to my feet and made my way to the bedroom and pulled out the diamond earrings from their hiding place, "I think these are rightfully yours." Gabby looked intently at the precious stones, and for a moment she seemed lost in thought. As she turned back to me she shook her head slowly.
"Those belong to whoever Lionel wishes them to go to. They were left to him by his biological mother, who died two months after he was born. I assume these are the diamonds Vivien was screaming about when she attacked you last night. She may well have seen them before, but I can guarantee you that they were not hers, nor, as she claimed, ever destined to be hers. Lionel would never, and had never, offered them to Vivien."
Gabby's revelation left me somewhat perplexed. Firstly, because Lionel, who'd only known me for a few weeks, had offered me jewellery that would have held great sentimental value to him. And secondly, because of Gabby's firm conviction that Vivien would never, ever, have been offered the stones.
That afternoon Gabby dropped me off at the hospital so that I could visit Vivien. I'd insisted on going, though Gabby, for some unknown reason, had strongly argued against it. She parked the car inside the reserved grounds of the private hospital and told me she would wait. I had the suspicion that Gabby, deep down, really disliked Vivien, which wasn't really surprising.
I made my way to the room where I'd been told I would find her. The hospital seemed quiet. It was comparatively small, and looked extremely exclusive. I imagined it was where all the rich and famous got treated, not just for health but also undoubtedly for surgery of a more cosmetic nature. What also got me was that there were no stalking paparazzi around. Obviously the story hadn’t leaked to the press yet.
Up on the second floor all was silent, eerily so; there was of no sign of patients’ family members or friends. Every one of the doors was either shut or just slightly ajar. When I reached Vivien's room I knocked softly before pushing the door open.
I stepped through quietly and stopped dead in my tracks.
Vivien lay on the bed, fast asleep, hair spread around her pretty face like a golden halo. She looked so serene and peaceful, it was a shame she didn't always look that way. But what jolted me was that, sitting in a chair beside the bed, with his arm reaching out to clasp Vivien's hand, was Lionel. He, too, was fast asleep. Viewing them together, holding hands, I felt as if my heart had been pierced by a shard of ice.
No wonder she looks so mighty happy and peaceful, I thought. In sudden anger I turned on my heel before either of them woke and hastened out to the safety of Gabby's 4x4. Gabby looked at me sheepishly. She obviously knew that there was a chance I would see Lionel there, but hadn’t had the guts to be honest with me. I refused to comment either way. She was his sister, after all, and I didn’t think it was wise to openly confess how cheated I felt.
My mind was made up: I was flying back to London as soon as possible. Freddy G had informed me during the party the night before that I was to have a six-week break before having to join the crew on the next film in which I was to body-double.
I needed to get away. And pronto!
Chapter Twelve
Freddy G had worked a miracle. Less than thirty-six hours after I'd saved Vivien from the murky depths of the Pacific Ocean, I was sitting First Class on a British Airways flight back to London.
I'd had just enough time to pack some of my stuff, tidy up the cottage, say a stilted goodbye to Gabby (though I knew she was the last one to blame for my heavy heart), and phone Tammy to get her to meet me at the airport. Lionel hadn't bothered to visit me, and I felt totally let down. I'd given the diamonds to Gabby for her safekeeping and placed the slip of paper with the details of the significant bank transfer that Freddy G had issued into my account into my bra top for the journey across the Atlantic.
I'd decided to go ahead with the purchase of the country cottage down in Kent. I planned to spend much of the following six weeks doing all the repair work needed on the house, and bringing myself back to reality after the last crazy few weeks of living in Never-Never-Land.
The flight over was relatively smooth and I spent most of it asleep. This was a shame; all the special First Class treats were wasted on me.
I went through passport control and customs in a flash. I think it was the first time ever I wasn't given the total body search, and put it down to the fact that I still had silky-straight hair. My heart went out to a poor kid in his late teens with big Afro hair who was halted right in front of me and told to open his case. I should really write a complaint a
bout hair discrimination, I thought, as I went through the automatic doors and out into the arrivals lounge.
"CHANTELLE!" Tammy flung herself into my arms. She was more excitable than a young puppy. It was heart-rending, really. I was glad that someone genuinely missed me.
"You remember Ray, don't you?" Tammy went on. I turned to stare at Robbie's friend, the Good Samaritan tractor-driver who'd rescued Tammy and me from the mud bath. That now felt like a lifetime ago. My brain was thrown into fast-forward as I attempted to bring myself up to speed with the situation. After that fragmented phone conversation, I'd been blindly convinced that Tammy had been dating Robbie. But there, before me, looking like two infatuated adolescents shyly holding hands, were Tammy and Ray. And as Ray moved off to fetch the parked car Tammy gleefully blurted out, "You owe me fifty quid."
"Obviously not gay, then."
I didn't even want to contemplate the prospect of seeing Robbie again. The idea of it was far too complex to mull over in my state of jet laggardness.
***
The arrival back at my bedsit off Streatham High Road was excruciating. I'd forgotten how tiny it actually was.
It was so dark and gloomy, too. I hadn't quite noticed before the extent to which the sun’s rays failed to reach my windows. Or maybe I had, and had automatically blanked it out in a reflex action of survival. As I looked around it also struck me that not only was the flat diminutive, dim and dismal, but that all of a sudden it seemed to vibrate. That was when I remembered that the railway line passed right behind the block of flats, and that I actually knew the train times to the minute, without ever having to consult a timetable. I left my luggage in the bed-cum-sitting room and went out on to the balcony that overlooked the main road. There was pigeon crap all over the railings, and I wondered if perhaps I ought to hold up a brolly, just in case.
A Little of Chantelle Rose Page 11