"I've just come over to tell you in person that Lionel had nothing whatsoever to do with the letters you received. I was the one behind the incidents all along. I was the one who send John over here to spy on you and unsettle you."
Gabby paused for a moment, whilst I, realising what a bloody fruit cake she really is, started to slowly inch myself towards the edge of the settee in order to be able to shoot behind it if she really lost her wits and I had to defend myself against her in hand-to-hand combat. If it came to that, of course, the odds were firmly against me. As I sustained my subtle bum shifting across the sofa, Gabby continued her confession in her usual cold, clipped tones.
"I originally thought I was doing the correct thing. All I've achieved, however, is breaking Lionel's heart. He will never forgive me, and I doubt you will either. All I can hope for is that by flying over here to tell you, somehow things between Lionel and you will work out, and at least then my conscience will be eased a little. Please believe me when I tell you that my intentions were to help keep you guys together. I thought that if you received signs of hostility here, you would return even quicker to be by Lionel's side and resign yourself to the idea of being the wife of a superstar. I even passed on the nude photos of you to the magazine, thinking that if everything about you was exposed," (she couldn't have chosen a more apt term) "then there would be no need for you to hide in the shadows. I believed that if everyone knew who you were, there would no longer be a reason for you to reject Lionel's celebrity lifestyle and try to remain anonymous, as you, yourself, would be a star in your own right."
Gabby hesitated a moment to get her breath back, and, with all probability, to attempt to assess my possible reaction. I was fuming. I couldn't believe it; my love life was in a total mess, and all because of her.
"Why?" I cried out in hopeless bewilderment. It was the only word that I could think of uttering aloud which wasn't a downright obscenity. Angered as I was, I didn't want to fly off the handle. It wouldn't achieve anything, other than, perhaps, a black eye (and it was my eyes I was worried about).
"The gypsy woman in New Orleans told me, after she had read Lionel's fortune, that I would never find the love of my life until Lionel was happily married…"
Well, that certainly explained things – as well as the fact that Gabby obviously had no common sense whatsoever to have fallen for that string of lies and rubbish and gone to the extremes she had. To follow through on a mystic tale like that she must be barking mad… She is barking mad!
We remained a moment in silence before Gabby got up and walked towards the front door.
"Where are you going?" I asked, as I realised that Gabby was about to let herself out of the cottage and into the dark night. She looked across at me, her expression miserable and overwrought. I realised that even if Lionel and I did ever manage to forgive her, I doubted she would ever forgive herself.
"I've got a plane to catch," she stated flatly, and with that stepped outside and closed the door silently behind her.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The other person who had a plane to catch was, of course, me.
I wasn't too sure how things would pan out, and I had no plan of action. No A, let alone B or C strategy to fall back on. All I knew was that it was crucial for me to see Lionel again. I had a lot of explaining to do. I felt it was only fair to both of us to give each other a moment together to talk things through; to somehow try to unravel the mess we ( I!) found ourselves in. I didn't know if he would forgive me for not trusting him and not believing in him. I cringed at the recollection of my manic outburst when I'd chucked all the menacing letters at him, followed by my other bout of hysteria when I'd hurtled the engagement ring at him. It was very probable that he wouldn't forgive me.
All the same, I had to see him and tell him I was sorry.
There was an available seat on a Virgin Atlantic flight scheduled to fly out to LA forty-eight hours after Gabby's confession. I'd just about enough time to say a quick farewell to Tammy. I didn't explain everything to her then, as it would have taken me longer than the forty-eight hours I had before my flight. I just promised her that I would return as soon as I could. After all, we still had a "girly" holiday together to look forward to.
The other person I searched high and low to say goodbye to, was, unsurprisingly, Robbie.
But there was no sign of him anywhere, and even Ray had no idea where he was. I hadn't seen Robbie since the day before I'd visited Tammy; the day before Gabby appeared out of the blue – well, darkness, actually – and pleaded guilty to the whole sad, sorry, sordid affair. I wondered if Robbie had been somewhere in the house during the encounter and had overheard everything, and decided it was best to disappear until I got my wits together. I could think of no other reason. His horse wasn't even in the paddock. No one in the village knew where he was either. I found myself panicking that something serious had happened to him. Maybe he'd been thrown from his horse again and was lying abandoned and injured somewhere along the country lane. The very idea terrified me.
The minutes ticked by and soon it was time for me to leave. I started the van and sat in the driver’s seat, letting the engine purr away softly, trying to think where I could possibly find Robbie in one last frantic search before I headed into the city. Following a last-minute gut feeling I turned the van down the country lane and parked off the main track by the crossroads which Tammy and I had come across the very first time we'd ventured here: the time when Tammy foolishly decided to manoeuvre her precious Jag down the muddy trail that led to the river. Leaving the van safely at the start of the track, I slowly and cautiously made my way down to the river on foot.
There were imprints of horse's hooves on the damp, muddy ground. Keenly I followed them, sure that they belonged to Robbie's black hunter. They led me down to the riverbank, and there, with its head down quenching its thirst, was the magnificent jet-black horse. He raised his head on hearing me and let out a soft neigh in recognition, which was truly touching. I whistled back in response, searching at the same time for signs of Robbie.
It took me a while to spot the figure that sat hunched someway further up the river. But, on approaching, there was no doubt that it was Robbie. Before I had a chance to say anything he turned to me with a sad half-smile.
"I told you Lionel wasn't the one behind the letters."
I nodded back at him in answer. I didn't ask him how he knew, assuming, as I had from the start, that he'd obviously overheard Gabby's disclosure. It was ironic that Robbie had had more faith in Lionel than I did. At the time I'd just assumed that Robbie defended his brother, protected blood of his blood, in order to enrage me. I couldn't have been more wrong.
"You're leaving, then…?" He sighed as he turned his gaze back to the river, leaving it impossible for me to read anything from his eyes.
I was lost for words. What could I say? It was true, I was leaving. For how long…? Not even I knew for sure. I stood for a moment in silence listening to the wind whistle through the surrounding woodland and rippling through the leaves that hung from the trees. It would be autumn soon, and those very leaves would fall lightly, at Mother Nature’s call, onto the forest floor in shades of russet and gold.
"Every time I come down here to the river, I can't help but think of you. Of the way you looked that day when you and Tammy got stuck in the mud."
He chuckled slightly at the memory whilst I in turn glowed scarlet.
"You were covered in mud, but all I could see were your shining almond eyes, and how beautiful you looked to me. I fell in love with you from the very instant I set my eyes on you."
He hesitated a moment as he turned to look at me. Our eyes locked and I had to struggle to keep my emotions still. My breathing became shallow and my heart hammered in my chest. He loved me? After all I had put him through? Moreover, though I'd selfishly longed to hear these words, I realised that things would have been much easier if they'd been left unsaid. For I was on my way to catch a plane across the Atlantic, and
after hearing this tender, sincere, loving admission it was going to be impossible to say goodbye. I felt a tear of sorrow and grief slowly trail down my cheek. Robbie was quick to reach my side and tenderly wiped it away.
"Promise me," he whispered, "that if you're not happy, you'll come back."
I wondered, not for the first time, as I stood there with his penetrating eyes locked into mine, what it was that I'd done to deserve the love of such an unselfish and great man. Indeed, what had I done to deserve the love of two such wonderful men? Both special, each in their own, endearing way. I felt awful. Sick. I wouldn't envy anyone in this situation. If anyone ever confessed to me that they found themselves caught between two loves, I'd say a prayer for them. It was a bloody nightmare.
***
Somehow I left. I don't know how – and I don't know how I didn't kill myself on the drive back to London. I don't remember anything at all about the journey.
Robbie's soft murmur as he'd whispered his feelings to me, tugged at my heart, as I'd climbed back into the van and had driven off. He felt that the rural cottage was our destiny. It was as if the cottage had played some magical trick on us to draw us together. And I think he was right, the house had bewitched me from the very beginning. I had even wished for it and to have Robbie in my life at the very start of my Hollywood venture. I'd never imagined it would end like this though.
On the whole flight across the Atlantic, his words I'll be waiting for you… repeated in my head over and over like a stuck gramophone record. I remembered my mum had a Barry Manilow record which she just loved, and played over and over until it scratched and we were left with just Bermuda Tri-an-gle…. Bermuda Tri-an-gle…. which drove the next-door neighbours crazy. They would thump on the dividing wall. These days you would probably get a machine gun rammed through the letterbox…
I felt really queasy throughout the flight, too. The airline meals didn't go down well at all, though there was nothing extraordinary about that. What really concerned me was Lionel's possible reaction. How would he take to seeing me again? I was preparing myself for the worst, for his probable words of Go to hell. And I wouldn’t blame him in the least.
As I sat there on that long-haul flight, I tried to concentrate and mentally string a few lines together to form some sort of apology which I could rehearse and get word perfect before having to speak to Lionel. But before I got any further than "Hi Lionel…" I was overcome with waves of nausea. I really fought to calm myself. I couldn't afford another memory lapse now.
Somehow I made it through passport control, immigration and customs without throwing up or fainting, and grabbed a cab. It wasn't long before I was charging down the garden path of the big house, which I'd always believed to be Freddy G's, and into the private grounds that encircled Lionel's bungalow – the bungalow that had been my home during the course of much of the summer. A summer that had been filled with so much: a journey from unknown "extra" to surprise, adventure, love, and… what now?
The door was wide open and I dashed through. My heart was in my throat at the thought of seeing Lionel again, and I was swamped by both anticipation and trepidation. The second I was through the door, however, I stopped dead as I became aware of a happy female voice chirpily singing away. And the melody came directly from the bedroom.
I believe I momentarily stopped breathing, and I felt sure that my heart had stopped beating. I held fast to the doorframe in an attempt to steady my suddenly weak knees. It served me right if Lionel had substituted me so quickly, after all it was me who had driven him away. But still, he'd obviously not wasted any time, and I was tremendously offended. As I attempted to gather my wits and do a quick cut-and-paste job to my prepared words of apology, changing them into words of anger, little Sav, the Mexican maid, sambaed through from the bedroom, brandishing a huge feather duster. Her big brown eyes got even larger when she saw me. I don't think she'd ever before seen someone so pleased and relieved to see her as I was at that moment. And I don't think I'd ever been so pleased to see a feather duster.
"El Señorito…?" I questioned in an attempt to discover where Lionel was. But it was a mistake to have risked my crummy Spanish, as the young girl, encouraged by my attempts to communicate in her language, simply let out a string of rapid Spanish which flew right over my head. I looked at her in confusion and shrugged my shoulders. Sav sighed at my obvious incomprehension, paused for a moment and then smiled coyly at me before energetically flapping her arms by her side. I stood for a moment perplexed.
"Bird." I said in an attempt to decipher her sign language. She shook her head slightly and started flapping away again.
"Fly." I cried out, as I suddenly realised what the arm flutter was all about. Sav nodded her head enthusiastically before she commenced the same movement, but with the added extra of turning in circles at the same time. It was my turn to sigh; I'd never been any good at charades. I tried to concentrate.
"Ok, first word 'fly,' second word…'dizzy,' 'spin'…?" Sav stopped turning for a moment and I don't know how she didn't keel over from all that energetic twirling. She shook her head and paused for a tick before she held three fingers up. I nodded.
"Third word…" I prompted, and she raised her hands level with her face, bent the fingers of her left hand into a circle which she held up over her right eye as if peering through a telescope, and with her right hand, fist closed, she started moving it in small circles as if reeling something. I gasped. I'd got it.
"Camera, film…" I cried out enthusiastically, as Sav nodded vigorously. She suddenly started spinning in circles with the arm flutter once again, and though she didn't bear any resemblance whatsoever to a helicopter, I suddenly clicked.
"Lionel's down by the helicopter pad because he's about to fly off to film his next movie." I exclaimed. Sav beamed back at me in joy as she threw her arms around me in pride. How we'd done all this without knowing much of each other's language must have been, as the Mexicans say, un milagro. And a bloody amazing miracle at that.
As soon as I'd untangled myself from her elated embrace I was out the door and down the path that led to the beach, racing along as if I had a swarm of killer bees after me. Despite the fact that I could hear my gasping breath loud inside my head, I was vividly aware of the sound of helicopter blades cutting through the air as they rotated for take-off. I stumbled a couple of times on the soft sand as I ran, and realised that if I made it to the take-off pad before the helicopter soared away, I would actually be too out of breath to utter a single word, let alone the whole discourse I'd so painstakingly prepared.
I finally had the helicopter in sight, and battled against the gusts of air that were battering in every direction as the blades picked up speed.
"Lionel…" I shrieked out at the top of my lungs, but the wind just blew my words futilely back at me. I sank to my knees in despair. It was agonising to watch how the helicopter slowly took off. I'd so wanted to tell Lionel that I was sorry for not trusting in him. But it was too late. He would be away for months, and I'd been unable to make it in time to tell him how sorry I was.
I remained hunched over, oblivious to my surroundings. It took me a while to realise that the wind had suddenly dropped and that the humming engine had stilled. It was only when I heard my name being called over and over that I realised that the helicopter had landed again and that Lionel was running towards me. We would have made the perfect final scene to a soppy romance, for, on hearing my name called and seeing the image (or rather, blurred vision) of Lionel sprinting towards me, I was up and skipping in joy across the ground and into his strong embrace. He swung me around in delight and I held onto him tight. He was breathless as he turned to me.
"My little Chantelle, I can't believe you're here. Gabby told me everything, but I never believed I'd have you back."
He looked intently at me as if I was some simple figment of his imagination. I smiled back at him, but my voice was serious.
"I'm so sorry Lionel for blaming you, for believing that you cou
ld have risked my safety for your own gains. You asked me once if I trusted you. I should have done, but I let you down. I let us both down. Even if you can't forgive me, I just wanted you to know how sorry I am. Sorry to have messed everything up. To have behaved as childishly as I did…"
Lionel held his fingers to my lips as he hushed me.
"Forget about it, the important thing is you're here now. I would love to stay, but I've been called out on location. This is a big, big movie and I've got thousands of crew and cast waiting. I can't just leave them. I'll be gone for three weeks or so. Stay here, we'll talk about it all when I get back. OK?"
I nodded gratefully at him. (If I analysed it, my place at the aisle had been substituted by a multi-million dollar shoot, but all considered I didn't think I was in a position to grumble). He briefly bent down and tenderly kissed my lips, so delicately it was as if he believed they might crumble. As quickly as he had appeared by my side he was gone. The sand swirled at my feet as the helicopter swished off, and I raised my hand above my head and waved until the aircraft was just a small spot in the far distance.
***
I slowly ambled back along the soft sand, but instead of turning to take the path that led up to the cottage, I kept going along the beach. Barefoot, I let the tide gently lap over my toes as I paused to breathe in the salty Ocean air. The sun was low over the horizon, and as the gulls squawked overhead I was filled with a sensation of utter peace and harmony.
I'd been blessed with three weeks all to myself; three weeks to think things through. To try and decide what I really wanted – and, more importantly, who I really wanted to be. I'd been lucky. I'd been given the love of two incredible men and both had selflessly offered me a future. Which path I chose would be light years away from whichever one I left behind. I also realised that once I'd reached a decision, there would be no turning back. Whatever I decided would be forever, with all the consequences.
I sat down for a moment on the warm, golden dune and briefly closed my eyes. I was unexpectedly overcome by that queasy sensation again. And I was suddenly filled with panicky dread. I did a quick calculation in my head as I tried to keep the waves of nausea at bay.
A Little of Chantelle Rose Page 26