The grunt suddenly came much closer and much louder, which wasn't really surprising considering I'd just rammed my heel down on Robbie's hand. I was quickly off his hand and down beside him. All things considered I wasn't too sure if he would be too thrilled to see me, but I was a better option than being left out all day and night in the pelting rain, so that alone had to be of some comfort to him.
"Chantelle" he croaked out, trying to muffle the pain in his voice, "What are you doing here?"
"I have a fetish for mud baths. I thought you knew that!"
I thought a little light humour might help. It was obvious that he was in excruciating pain and had counted on someone responsible finding him. I didn't know if he counted me as responsible; little me, who couldn't even keep track of my nocturnal habits or bed partners, but I did notice what looked like a slight smile play on his lips on hearing my crack about my sludge mania. Perhaps he didn't totally hate me after all.
"Do you think you could stand if I help you?" I asked, determined to get Robbie to his feet and prove to him that I was of some worth and not, as he probably thought, just a slapper. On catching his feeble nod, I got him to a sitting position and then, with his arm around my shoulder I gradually got him to his feet. His hand somehow brushed against my breast and I wondered, for a split second, if it had been intentional. I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Who would want to flirt in the condition he was in? And after me saying I couldn't remember sleeping with him anyway.
His left leg had obviously been quite badly injured during the fall, as Robbie was unable to place any weight on it at all. His clothes were all torn as if he had been pulled through a holly bush. To save his manly pride I didn't ask any questions. Finally on his feet and leaning heavily on me, we somehow made it up the muddy slope and level with the country lane. It took us a good half hour to get back to the cottage. I thought my back would snap somewhere down the lane as I struggled under Robbie's increasingly heavy weight. I could hardly stand up straight when we finally got to the cottage door and I fumbled to find the key to the lock. I remained stooped over like the Hunchback of Notre Dame as I ultimately opened the front door and shuffled through, Robbie hobbling beside me.
The only good omen was finding Robbie's stallion lazily grazing on the grass in the front garden. The black horse raised its head ever so slightly on seeing Robbie and me approach, but soon resumed its steady chomping at my precious lawn. If it hadn't been that I couldn't stand straight I would have picked up something and hurtled it at the beast. Not only was he dangerously close to my roses, but he'd also thrown Robbie, which was animal treachery in my books. Robbie, however, was thrilled to see his stallion safe and sound and whistled joyfully at him. What a forgiving guy, I thought. I didn't think I would have been quite so charitable if I'd been in Robbie's shoes. The action, nevertheless, gave me hope. Possibly I would be forgiven, too. If, of course, he gave me the opportunity to explain everything to him.
Robbie refused to be taken to the hospital to have his battle wounds tended to, so I decided the best thing was to run a hot bath and attempt first aid myself. He'd obviously landed right in the middle of a bramble bush, as there were fine scratches all over his arms and his whole back was covered in thorns. I got my tweezers out and started to extract the sharp spikes that were visible. Some of the scratches looked quite deep and painful. I was aware that if I didn't clean the wounds properly they could possibly get infected. The problem was, I had no medical alcohol in the house and I couldn't waste time driving into town and back. As I wondered what to do it suddenly struck me that there was something I could use, even if it wasn't the most appropriate substance.
"I'll be back in a second," I shouted to Robbie as I dashed down into the kitchen. As I stepped back into the bathroom, which was rapidly turning into a steam-room as the warm bathwater vaporised into the cool surrounding air, Robbie, without even looking at me, sullenly declared, "You knew he was my brother, didn't you?"
I was totally caught off guard, but there was no point in pretending I hadn't twigged to what he meant. The question had been inevitable sooner or later. I moved to look him in the eye and nodded as he continued.
“I've always suspected it anyway. There were too many coincidences. I even foolishly tried to contact him once.” He let out a harsh laugh as he said this. “Lionel probably receives hundreds of fan letters a day, and mine was probably just one of many, with the added inconvenience that it looked as if I was looking for fame or fortune. But all I was looking for was for a brother.”
He choked on this last word.
"But why didn't you tell me?" he went on, as he held my gaze steady. His brow was creased with concern, his eyes melancholy. I returned his gaze, but it was impossible for me to answer. How did he think I could tell him, then or ever, that whilst he didn't even have enough money to buy this small cottage, he had a twin brother who was one of the wealthiest actors in the world? Not only that, his brother Lionel had everything else too: elegance, class, charm, fame.
I hesitated a moment longer before I mumbled, "I was waiting for the right moment… Robbie, I'm sorry. I realise I should have told you. I just never found the occasion."
It was an unconvincing, half-hearted lie, and I knew Robbie had seen straight through it. As if reading my mind, there was a slight pitch of dejection in his voice as he softly whispered, "It's okay, I understand why. He has everything, and I have nothing. And I'm nobody. I'm not blind." He gave a slight cynical chuckle before adding, "He even had The Girl."
For a split second he held my gaze steady, intently searching my face as if probing for an answer that would prove otherwise. For I knew, as big-headed as it sounded, that "The Girl" in question was me. Though it was quite hard to believe that I, with my impulsive attitude and somewhat reckless behaviour could attract anyone, let alone two wonderful men. Well, at least Robbie was a true gentleman. I didn't even want to word what I thought Lionel was after his treachery. We remained staring at each other, and I realised that Robbie, like me, didn't hanker after fame and fortune, for we both knew they were not the keys to happiness. The only thing we both searched for was true love, as love and love alone is what, in turn, leads to fulfilling peace and happiness. And it was about time I realised that there were no riches in the world that could give that kind of love.
The room suddenly felt exceedingly steamy and hot – and it was not just from the sweltering bathwater. In an attempt to change the conversation and overcome the charged atmosphere that was rapidly building up between us, I felt I needed to lower the temperature and be decidedly practical by attempting some sort of first aid on Robbie's back. It was not a pretty sight.
In my attempt to bring myself back to reality and avoid at all costs Robbie's penetrating gaze, I handed him a shot glass full to the brim with brandy.
"If I were you,” I said, “I'd down that in one." Taking my own advice, I gulped down a generous measure straight from the bottle that I'd uncovered in the kitchen cupboard. I took a couple more swigs of the strong and warming spirit in an attempt to still my shaking hands. I had no idea if I was shaking from trying to pass myself off as Florence Nightingale or because of Robbie's nude torso sitting in my bathtub and our recent intense conversation. I decided it was best not to ponder the matter and, feeling the liquor rush through my veins, I held my breath in hushed anticipation before splashing the remaining brandy down Robbie's back as a form of antiseptic. There was a moment of silence and just as I was breathing a sigh of relief, Robbie yelled out in shock, "FOR CHRIST’S SAKE, WOMAN! You could have at least warned me…"
"I thought I did." I slurred back bemused, as, at the same time, I let out a loud, irrepressible hiccup.
***
I locked the door to my bedroom that night. It wasn't in order to keep Robbie out, rather to keep me in. It would do no good to go wandering around in the middle of the night, as I knew I would probably end up in his bed. I still had some dignity and self-control left, I thought. At least I was trying to rec
over what I once had. But my head was in a terrible muddle, to say the least, and there was no point blaming the generous amounts of brandy I'd gulped down.
How was it possible that each brother, each in his own charming way, had been capable of seeping into my heart until I no longer knew what was what and who was who? There was no point pretending that I no longer loved Lionel. I did love him, deeply. I just felt tremendous anger towards him at this instant because of his lunatic, manipulating behaviour. Nevertheless, though I still loved him, I also knew that after his show of possessiveness I could never quite trust him again. I would never be sure how far he would go in his desire to control me, and I had no intention of hearing the dreaded words: If I can't have you, no one will!
Then there was Robbie. Kind, considerate Robbie. Robbie whom I'd so misunderstood from the start. Robbie who was a pillar of strength at the end of a long day. Robbie who, if I was honest, deserved someone so much better than me; someone responsible like he was, someone more reliable and less reckless. Someone who would bestow on him peace and happiness – together with a half dozen kids! I didn't know if I could ever aspire to these solid principles, though I would like to think that I could.
Everything seemed such a shambles at this moment. I would certainly need to get a grip on myself and the situation. But before I tried to do anything, I felt that I needed to get away for a while; to disappear until the whole affair had blown over and until my mind and heart settled. It was weak of me, I knew, to want to run away instead of facing up to things – but I just didn't want to mess up again, as I probably would if I stayed around.
I certainly didn't want to start something on the rebound; that wouldn't be fair on anyone. Anyway, as they say, Let the bird fly free; if it returns, it's yours forever. And I needed to spread my wings and find my real self again.
But I also realised that if I did go away for I while, I would be taking a huge risk. I couldn't ask Robbie to wait for me; that would just be too selfish. I simply hoped that if he truly loved me, he would be patient with me.
Apart from Robbie and my uncertain heart – and mind! – I also dreaded the thought of having to go through the hell of persecution when the media found out that Lionel and I were no longer together – especially if Lionel looked as bad when he got back to the States as he did when he’d left England. To a great many, Lionel was not only a star with that rare quality of being a nice guy with it, he was a hero who helped the less fortunate. That I knew him to be an obsessive nutter didn't matter. In this particular drama I'd be cast as the heartless, scheming, cheap tart. I'd be hounded for days, weeks, maybe months. This rural idyll would become a madhouse if I stayed.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I did stay, though – but only because Robbie and I spent the next couple of days dallying around the cottage both with stinking colds as a result of our prolonged jaunts out in the hammering rain. I wasn't too sure who was the worse for wear. I was so bunged-up that I couldn't breathe properly, whilst Robbie also had a really bad cough. His back was sore from the tumble through the bramble bushes, and his ankle was so swollen that he could barely walk. Needless to say, in our present state all notion of hanky-panky was out of the question. For me, that was a great relief.
On the second day of our recuperation, I summoned enough courage to try and explain to Robbie, once again, what had happened to me. I’d desperately tried to remember that night we'd spent together, but the more I tried, the more confused things seemed to get. As I’d experienced from childhood, the flashback usually came when I least expected, and I relied on the fact that at some point soon I would remember. Until now, the whole incident had been left unspoken as if it had never happened. We were lounging in the sitting room, the afternoon light filtered through the windows, setting off the copper gleam of the wooden floorboards. I was wearing my Dalmatian spotted onesie, and was very glad that I hadn’t bought a unicorn or crocodile one. I didn’t need to get things more comic than they already were; with my hair in a frizz and my "Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer" nose, I looked rather clownish as it was.
Robbie had just been telling me about his rather solitary youth living in the middle of the British countryside, with the stress of city life unthinkable. He believed that life was too short to waste time commuting for hours just to get to work and be hassled by people all pushing to get ahead. He believed that life should be kept as simple as possible, for the simplest things are often the greatest, and without a doubt usually the most peaceful. He’d looked at me then and smiled shyly and held my gaze as if to say “This is what I can offer.”
I was the first to break eye contact. I suddenly felt terribly hot with my onesie on, and started fanning myself with a magazine that Tammy had left lying around the house on her first visit.
“Robbie,” I murmured, and had to clear my voice as it sounded all croaky – and it wasn’t just because of the cold. I was feeling extremely emotional and my voice wavered. “I lost my mother when I was very young. I couldn’t cope or accept it, and blanked the whole period out of my mind. I was diagnosed with temporary amnesia. It took me months to remember. And not just to remember what happened, but to remember her. There was a time I couldn’t even bring to mind her beautiful face, her sweet smile, or anything about her.”
By this point Robbie had attempted to move close to me, but I waved him away. I didn’t think I could cope by having him move closer. There was a chance that I could have a relapse into oblivion, and now that I had his attention I needed to finish.
“I haven’t had one of these memory lapses in years, until the other night when you brought me home from the hospital. I don’t know what happened. As much as I try I just can’t remember.”
Robbie looked at me tenderly. “What do you think happened?” he whispered.
“I’m not sure” I said, rapidly picking up the magazine again and fanning myself. God, it was hot!
“What would you have liked to have happened?”
“Errrr….” Christ! Was this necessary? I was trying to avoid getting myself more confused than I already was, and Robbie’s pressing certainly wasn’t helping.
“Can’t you just tell me what happened?” I pleaded, stalling to reply properly.
“Would you remember it if it was magical? If it was the most amazing night of your life?” he asked.
“Yes.” There was a lump in my throat and I couldn’t trust myself to say much more.
“Then I’ll wait for you to remember.”
And with that he stood and walked over to where I was sitting, took hold of my hands and pulled me to my feet, holding me tight in his arms for what felt like an eternity. Neither of us spoke or made an attempt to move. Finally he bent and kissed me gently on one cheek and brushed away a tear that was trickling down my face.
“I think I’d better go.”
And with that he left, closing the front door softly behind him.
***
The following morning, after a restless night, I went to visit Tammy. I was relieved that Robbie now knew what had happened to me, and that he didn’t seem to mind waiting until I remembered, but I still felt terribly anxious. So it was a huge relief to find Tammy almost fully recovered. There was so much I wanted to tell her, too, but I thought it best to ease all of my latest gossip and goings on to her bit by bit. I didn't know how much she remembered about the night of the attack, and I didn’t want to risk giving her a relapse. Thus, when she turned her pale face to me, with dark circles under her eyes, and asked me how I was doing, I just smiled at her and told her I was great. I added that when she fully recovered I was taking her on holiday. And Ray too, if she wished. She looked slightly puzzled at this notion; after all she still thought I was on the brink of my wedding day. In an attempt to lull her look of perplexity I just smiled back at her in my carefree way and reached out to hold her hand tight.
I spent the whole day at Tammy's side. However, as she was still weak, she fell in and out of sleep a couple of times whilst I was talking.
It was hard not to feel slightly offended by her sudden snoring whilst I found myself in mid-sentence, but, of course, it wasn't that important. What was imperative was that she continued to progress well. Once she was allowed to go home, that alone would be a real weight off my mind.
It was dark when I arrived back at the cottage. As I stepped into the front room. I paused for a brief moment as I'd picked up on a light scent of musky perfume. There was something tremendously familiar about the soft fragrance, and I closed my eyes trying to pinpoint where I'd come across this scent before. Just as I did so I was aware that the lamp in the front room was switched on. Instinctively I dived behind the sofa.
"It's OK," called a voice. "It's only me…"
I poked my head around the armrest to verify the voice with my own eyes.
"For crying out loud, Gabby!" I exclaimed, in part relief and part fury. "You've given me the shock of my life. How the hell did you get in?" There was no point asking her how she'd found me, for everyone (except for the stalking paparazzi, thank goodness) seemed to know my whereabouts.
"I have my ways," she replied smoothly.
Hadn't anyone ever told her that it was illegal to break into homes? I honestly wasn't sure if I was glad to see her or not. For starters, she'd have me awake at sun-up and sprinting down the lane and back at least a dozen times before breakfast. I wasn't too sure how she would take to seeing Robbie either. And where was Lionel in all of this?
"I don't have much time," she began and motioned me to sit. I did so, but rather hesitantly as I actually preferred to keep the sofa between us as a sort of shield. There was something about Gabby that just didn't seem right. At first I thought she was drunk, or maybe high on something. But as both notions were just so "un-Gabby" I just had to assume that she was naturally this scary and I'd never fully twigged before.
"I'm flying back to the States first thing tomorrow morning."
Phew!!
A Little of Chantelle Rose Page 25