Robbie was the one to spot to me first. He sent me a cynical smirk as he stood.
"Chantelle! There you are. I guess you two have some catching up to do," he remarked with a slight hint of sarcasm in his voice that only I appreciated. It was Lionel's turn to twist and face me. His eyes lit up on seeing me and it was hard to imagine that he had a calculating side to him that he'd been able to keep so well hidden. Of course, he was a bloody good actor. World-famous. But if he had to have a hidden side I would have preferred an image of him prancing about in stiletto heels clad in my pink lingerie, than him being deceitful and obsessive.
"Hi, Princess." Lionel called out in his suave, enticing voice as he, too, got to his feet.
"You know, it looks like Robbie here and I could be twins, separated at birth! How about that?"
"You don't say!" I chimed back trying to sound surprised and that I was paying attention, when in fact I was trying to figure out where Robbie had hidden his used clothing, for he was wasn't wearing the rugby shirt he'd left on the bed. What's more, his pockets didn't bulge out suspiciously like hamster's pouches stuffed with food. I rather feared that he'd strategically tidied the bedroom just to throw me, and his boxers, socks and shirt were still somewhere in the house, just waiting for Lionel to come across.
"I'll escort you to the door, Robbie." I hissed at him, looking him straight in the eye daring him to betray me. If he had whipped out his undies there and then and said something on the lines of Fine, honey, I've collected what I left here, that wouldn't have just betrayed me, it would have sent me straight to the guillotine. Thankfully, however, he opted to co-operate with me and moved around the table to follow me out.
"Lionel, stay there while I see Robbie off."
I addressed him over my shoulder as I hastened to the front door. I could hear the twins backslapping each other behind me in the kitchen in a brotherly farewell. "What a hypocrite," I murmured to myself. Robbie well knew that Lionel had earned himself a good clout around the ear rather than a friendly "Ho Ho."
As soon as Robbie was at my side and out of Lionel's hearing I turned and fumed at him in a whisper.
"Where the hell have you hidden your underwear?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, sweetheart. Why on earth would I have underwear hidden in this house? Chantelle, with your memory as it is of late, you've obviously got things mixed up."
“Of course” I hissed back. “But as you don’t want to listen to me and let me explain, you’ll never understand.”
I was working myself up into such a temper, I actually wanted to swear out loud at him. But before I could continue, he added (rather deviously and totally ignoring the fact that I could explain things given the chance), "By the way, I don't think Lionel is responsible for what's been happening. He seems a decent guy."
And with that he opened the door and was down the front steps in one energetic jump, whilst I, in frustration, slammed the door shut blocking out his mocking image.
Of course Robbie would defend Lionel. After all, there was nothing stronger than the bond of blood.
I took a deep breath and headed back to the kitchen. Robbie had got me so fired up with his mocking stance that I was ready to face Lionel, guillotine and all. The moment I passed into the kitchen I threw all the cut-out threatening letters at Lionel. I'd recovered them from their hiding place the moment I'd been aware of Lionel's laugh, and had tucked them into my waistband. They scattered to the floor, and Lionel, in his bewilderment, just looked from me to them and back to me again.
"Honey, are you okay?"
This was obviously not the welcome he'd been expecting. Robbie had probably been more enthusiastic than me to see him, and I was supposed to be his fiancée. I no longer wore the flashing diamond, and that alone should have alerted him that something was wrong. I mean, it wasn't as if you could miss the fact that the titanic jewel, which alone could have lit up Oxford Street at Christmas, was not where it should be. He bent to pick up one of the strewn pieces of paper and on reading its contents turned to me puzzled.
"What's this all about, babe?"
"For Christ's sake, Lionel, you've already won the Oscar, stop pretending you don't know what the letters are about. Quit bluffing that you're unaware of everything you've put me through."
His look of incomprehension didn't alter. What I did glimpse was a look of Oh no, she's going to do a Vivien Francis on me! which probably best described my mindset at that moment. I believed that I'd every right to fly off the handle, which is why I didn't think twice about picking up the china flower vase that was on the middle of the kitchen table, brimming with wild roses, and hurtling it with all my pent-up fury right at Lionel. He easily dodged the airborne missile, and it shattered straight into the wooden kitchen cupboard behind. There were place mats down on the kitchen table, which were my next string of ammunition. I flung them at him as I shrieked, "Tammy's been in intensive care for the last three days because of your idiotic scheming. It wasn't enough to let me make the decision to be with you myself, was it? You just had to have your way, no matter what, didn't you? It doesn't matter to you if you crush someone along the way, as long as in the end you get your own way. Well, let me tell you, Lionel, I'd fallen in love with you, but I can't forgive you for trying to manipulate me so. I can't believe that you could be so wicked, so selfish as to pull off a scam like you have. Sending John, your personal chauffer, over to scare me back to LA. What was it you said to me when you told me you loved me? That you worried that I may return to the UK and leave you. Well, by taking things that step too far in your attempt to control and influence me, you've gone and made sure that I never want to see you again. I'd be crazy to go back to LA with you now. You can't force people to be with you. They have to be with you because they want to, just as I did. But it's too late now."
By this point I had run out of place mats. Only one had found its target in any case, which didn't say much for my hand-eye coordination. I guess it had been a bit too much to ask; scream my head off at Lionel whilst attempting to keep the tears of frustration and woe at bay, as well as hurtle everything and anything that came to hand at him.
Lionel, in turn, just stared at me in utter confusion as he successfully dodged my flying ammunition. I think he believed that the whole scenario, all I was saying, was just part of a bad dream, a dream which he struggled to wake up from. For, if it had been just a terrible, terrible dream, then at least my final words of "Get out, I never want to see you again…" wouldn't have torn at his heart as they appeared to. I'd never seen him look so hurt and vulnerable before. I would never have believed that I could cause a grown man to break down and cry, or shake with utter remorse and sorrow. I would never have believed that I could break someone's heart, despite the fact that mine was already shattered.
Lionel left the house in silent anguish; he didn't even look me in the eye as he turned to leave. His entire body shook with grief, and I knew, implausible as it might seem, that he was crying.
I let him go. Despite the fact that his tears wrenched at my heart, they didn't absolve his manipulating and cynical behaviour.
They didn't excuse the fact that Tammy was still lying in hospital in a half-coma.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Three days later Lionel came back. He looked an utter mess, and I'm sure I wasn't a pretty sight either. I hadn't dared to look in a mirror, but I knew my eyes were all red and puffy from crying my heart out. They felt as sore as hell. What with my unkempt hair, swollen face and runny nose, I'd really let myself go and must have looked a real picture.
Lionel wasn't that far behind me when it came to lack of personal grooming. He obviously hadn't shaved since our previous encounter. It was the first time I'd seen his hair in disarray, sticking up all over the place as if he'd just run his hand over an electric fence. His shirt was all crinkled, too, and I wondered if he'd slept rough somewhere in his day clothes. He probably hadn't eaten either. I certainly hadn't. I hadn't even been tempted by the ch
ocolate Häagen-Dazs ice cream I'd found in the freezer, which was a real indicator of how seriously inconsolable I was.
The strange thing is that I didn't just mope around the cottage mooning over Lionel. I also found myself pining for Robbie. For the first time, I wondered what would have happened if I'd never gone over to the States to work on Lionel's film. Would things between Robbie and me have been better if we'd started dating in the good old traditional, normal and customary routine of old-fashioned courting? Let’s face it, I hadn't even "gone out" with Robbie in that sense. Yet I, or simply "things," had messed everything up.
I was sure Tammy would have advised me to go on an extended holiday to the Bahamas or any Caribbean paradise to attempt to curb my heartache – and bloody well sort myself out. I, however, knew that it would take me rather more than just a few Mojitos to get over the wretchedness I felt.
I stepped aside to let Lionel through into the cottage, though I couldn't bring myself to meet his gaze. Lionel, however, didn't step inside, instead, simply remained on the doorstep. He began to speak and his voice was sad and tight with emotion.
"I'm flying back out to the States tonight. I just came by to say goodbye. I know you won't believe me when I tell you that I'm not the one behind the letters you've received. Robbie has told me everything that has happened here during the last few weeks."
I suddenly panicked and wondered precisely what it was Robbie had told Lionel concerning past and more recent events. I hoped that Robbie had had the decorum to leave a certain incident out of the story.
"It saddens me to think,” Lionel went on, “that you believe with such blind venom that I could be the one behind the letters. That I could possibly want to hurt you. That I would be so cruel to play with your safety just to keep you by my side. Obviously, however, this is exactly what you think, and nothing I say now is going to change the way you feel. I hope someday you find happiness, Chantelle. And that one day you realise that all I'm saying is true, and that I could have made you very happy."
With that Lionel turned and started down the steps to the main gate. His shoulders were hunched, and from the back he looked like he'd aged ten years in the last three days.
I was totally lost for words. Of course I didn't believe him. I was angered that he couldn't admit to me that the letters had been a part of his ruthless plan to keep me at his side. I couldn't believe that he could be so proud; that he couldn't tell me he was sorry for all he'd put me through over the last weeks. He couldn't even tell me that he was sorry Tammy was still hospital-bound due to his foolishness. He hadn't just come to say goodbye. His last words were simply to make me feel even worse; blaming me for not trusting him, when I'd given him all of me, not only my trust but my very heart and soul.
I slammed the door on his retreating figure and ran up the stairs into my bedroom. I rummaged around under the wardrobe until I came across the piece of wrapping paper I'd stuck to the base with cellotape. My hands fumbled as I tore the paper from its hiding place and ran into one of the guest rooms that overlooked the front garden. I opened the window wide and shouted down at Lionel who was just about to drive off in his rented Mercedes.
I flung right at him, with all my might, the precious diamond engagement ring he'd given me. The moment it was out of my hands, I could hear Tammy's voice in my mind cry out, You daft cow, there goes your pass to early retirement and your ticket to the Bahamas!
The diamond flashed in the morning light as it spun in the air and I was almost out of the window and after it, with sudden second thoughts. I couldn't believe I'd hurtled something of such value into the wild outdoors, as if it was just a worthless piece of glass. I'd wanted to hurt Lionel, give him back everything he'd given me, in the hope that it hurt him as much as I hurt, deep to my very core. I realised, however, as Lionel looked up at me whilst I leaned precariously out of the window and our eyes locked that he was indeed hurting, possibly even more than me.
Without even pausing to gather the jewel, he stepped into his car and drove off. I, of course, was down the stairs and out of the front door in a jiffy. It had started drizzling but this was of little concern now, for I had an absolute fortune's worth of precious stone somewhere in my front garden and I'd be damned if I was going to let a little spot of rain deter me. I couldn't believe I was actually giving something of materialistic value more importance than pining over my broken heart. I simply concluded that the instinct for survival is definitely the greatest of all, and that the diamond was, at this moment, the only thing I had to treasure; the one thing that would see me through a cold harsh winter – a life's worth of winters, come to think of it. I would have settled for love, like the love I'd felt for Lionel, but considering how fleeting and treacherous love can be, I opted for the diamond. I suddenly understood why they say Diamonds are a girl’s best friend. Because they can cut through glass, but not through your heart.
In any case, hunting around the front garden for the precious stone was a winner at keeping my mind off my heartache.
***
Two hours later, and with it utterly pissing down with rain, I was still down on my hands and knees ploughing through the front garden in vain search of the ring. I couldn't believe I hadn't watched to see where it had landed. I'd been too busy at the time gazing at Lionel's heartbroken face. I wondered, and not for the first time, if Lionel had caught the ring in mid-flight before driving off, as there was no sign of flashing stone anywhere on the front lawn.
I sat back on my haunches for a moment, wondering for the umpteenth time where on earth the ring could have landed, when suddenly a magpie appeared from out of nowhere. It soared down onto the grass area right up by the house and started pecking at something on the ground. It amused me to think that the bird had braved the rain to fish a worm or two out of the damp soil. Then I caught sight of the sparkling object the magpie was busy trying to uncover and I almost keeled over in anguish at the thought that some feathered thief was about to fly off with my life savings. I charged over to it throwing several pebbles I'd scooped up in an attempt to scare it away. But the stubborn fowl didn't budge; it just looked at me with bright, defiant eyes before becoming airborne with my engagement ring flashing in its beak. I lunged for it, thinking that if I didn't knock it down, the next few weeks would be spent scouring the neighbouring woods in search for my treasured jewel.
The magpie let out a harsh "caw" in anger and the ring dropped to the ground. I was down on the jewel like a woman possessed, breathing heavily, hair stuck down on my face from the relentless rain, clothes sodden and soiled. But I had my ring back, and all paled in comparison. The magpie turned on me and swooped down in attack and pecked my head hard. I was so surprised I let the ring slip from my grip in my attempt to thrash off the aggressive bird. It flashed through my mind that I'd heard of cases in Australia of magpies who tended to take out their venom on the poor postmen. But Aussie magpies are renowned for being more aggressive than their UK cousins, which brought me to the general notion, even as I was wildly waving my arms about, that they obviously grow their crops big and strong down under!
I finally had the diamond ring safely in my palm, but the ring was so huge I couldn't close my fist properly, so I placed my other hand under it in protection. As I scurried up the front steps I remembered the times I'd teased Lionel about all the luxurious things he had, such as his lavish caravan and opulent yacht, the cars and the helicopter. Now there was no more Lionel in my life. Just me battling it out with a magpie over my precious stone; all I had left of my memories. The ring seemed to have the same effect on me and my winged foe as the ring from the Lord of the Rings did over Gollum. Poor fellow.
Just as I turned the door handle to let myself into the cottage, I became aware of the sound of horse’s hooves crashing down along the lane in a wild gallop. I couldn't believe that Robbie was foolish enough to be out in such dire weather. At the same time I slicked my hair back off my face, so that if he saw me he would simply assume I'd just stepped out of the sho
wer, rather than spent two hours on my hands and knees outside in the torrential rain. Galloping so fast, I didn't think he would notice how soiled my clothes were. I also wondered why I should be bothered about what Robbie thought of me. The concept he already had of me couldn't possibly sink any lower.
The black stallion charged past at alarming speed, but what concerned me more was that there was no rider. Robbie was either lying on the ground somewhere after being thrown from his saddle, or would soon appear dashing down the lane after his mount. I stood and waited in anticipation. The thought of seeing his face after such a humiliation would have been quite a treat; anything to take my mind off current events.
Five minutes passed and I found myself trudging down the country lane in the hope of coming across Robbie. Ten minutes later, just as I was about to retrace my steps in order to restart my hunt for Robbie in the van, armed with my mobile in case I had to call for an ambulance, I became aware of a low moan. At first it was hard to decipher where exactly it had come from as it was muffled by the falling rain, and the surrounding dense woods obscured my vision. The moan came again, and this time I located it to my right. I stepped into the undergrowth that grew wild along the roadside and accidentally slipped some paces down a muddy slope that had been concealed from my vision, catching myself on some thorny brambles as I did so.
"For fuck’s sake!" I grumbled to myself as I picked a thorn out of my now ripped tracksuit bottoms. They say unlucky events occur in threes. Someone had obviously lost count at number three with me, for I was having a never-ending run of bad luck.
A Little of Chantelle Rose Page 24