Now Nick was looking for her. But Helena had hidden herself behind the curtains on the landing. She could hear her grandfather downstairs.
“Ah, there you are, you devil child,” Helena heard him say to Nick. “What mischief have you been getting up to?”
“Nothing, Grandfather.”
“Is that tar on your teeth?” She heard her grandfather laugh. “Old Nick. You really are the devil. Well, never mind that. I wanted to show you what I brought back from India. Isn’t it beautiful?”
Helena desperately wanted to see, but was still wary of giving up her hiding place.
“See those tigers? When you and your cousin are old enough, I’ll have dresses made for you both. What do you say to that?”
“I love it,” Helena heard Nick say, a little breathless.
“All right, then. I’m going to the Reading Room for a drink. Don’t tell your grandmother.”
“I won’t, Grandfather.” And then a little louder: “I hate tattletales, more than anything.”
“So do I. Well said.”
Helena waited a little while, until it was quiet again, and then looked over the banister. Nick was standing there in the hall, her head slightly to one side. Helena sucked her cheeks in and out until enough saliva collected on her tongue. She leaned over the banister as far as she could and let the spitball go, watching until it landed with a satisfying pat on her cousin’s head.
When Helena opened her eyes, she could still hear her. But the room was different; it was big. She could tell because the distance from the bed to the wall was vast. And the walls were mint green. There was a nightstand, but her pills weren’t on it, only a glass of water. She wanted to reach for it, her mouth was dry, but she didn’t want them to know she was awake.
“I’ve called Dr. Hofmann. He gave me a list of what she’s been taking, and frankly, Mrs. Derringer, I’m surprised she hasn’t overdosed yet. It’s quite a cocktail.”
“I see. And did this doctor, or whatever he is, say why she was taking these pills?”
“The usual list: anxiety, depression, insomnia, listlessness.”
“All of it?”
“Well, in my opinion, some of the pills may have brought up other symptoms that were then addressed with further prescriptions. I can’t be entirely sure, not having followed her case myself. It appears that she was taking the medication at fairly reasonable doses for a significant period of time, but in the last three years or so she has been taking them at what I would term an abusive level.”
“Goddamn it. If I find her husband I am going to strangle him myself. And that goddamn quack along with him.”
“Yes. In any case, you do understand that she can’t be taken off the medication directly.”
“You can’t possibly be suggesting that she keep taking these pills?”
“That is exactly what I’m suggesting. If we remove the drugs completely, the withdrawal could kill her. Now, I must reiterate my strong feeling that your cousin should be in a hospital. The doses have to be given in a precise and regulated manner, and are best handled by someone with experience. I’m not sure a hotel is really the most suitable place to deal with a situation this grave.”
“I’m not putting Helena into a hospital. I think the doctors in this town have done enough.”
“We are not all monsters, Mrs. Derringer.”
“Dr. Monty recommended you, and I have faith in him. But I can’t say at this point it extends much further than that, as I’m sure you can understand. Now, what do I have to do?”
“As you wish. I have written out a list of the new prescriptions, when they are to be administered and at what dose. I’ll give you the number of a private nurse. This does not mean Mrs. Lewis won’t exhibit symptoms of withdrawal, but they should be controlled. Nightmares, irritability, vomiting, sweating, possibly seizures. These can all be expected. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” The Bitch didn’t sound so cool now. “When will she be able to travel? I want to take her home as soon as possible.”
“Definitely not for a week. Maybe two. Now, let’s start with the phenobarbital. In your cousin’s case, while she seems to have consumed largely opioids, the barbiturates are the most worrying …”
Helena didn’t want to hear any more. She wanted Avery. Where was he? He would never come back, not if the Bitch was around. She had been waiting, waiting, waiting for him. But he hadn’t come back. He said he had found Ruby. But it wasn’t Ruby. It was someone else. She was blond; Ruby had red hair. She remembered telling him that. She couldn’t be Ruby, because Ruby had red hair. And Avery had said he would make her hair red. That was it. He was going to do screen tests. And he had found the Ruby. And he said she had to sleep and when she was feeling strong, she must call the Bitch and get the money. Once and for all. And then he would be back. And now the Bitch was here. Had she called? She couldn’t remember. But if she had the money, where was Avery? Why hadn’t she just given Helena the money? How many times had she begged for the money? The Bitch didn’t care. She took Ed. She had said that Ed needed to go to school. Because he was different. And now Avery had left her because she had failed. She had not gotten the money, and she had let them take Ed, and now Avery didn’t love her.
“Shhh. Darling, it’s all right. I’m here with you. Oh, Helena, don’t cry.”
She didn’t want her; why wouldn’t she go away?
“It’s time to take your medicine. The doctor says it will make you feel better.”
There was the cool water. And then there was darkness.
Elm Street. Through the screen door, Helena could see Nick reading on the back steps.
“I’ve mixed up the days again. It wasn’t the day for meat. I have some canned corn, or at least I think it’s canned corn.”
Nick looked up from her book, arching one of her eyebrows. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Helena laughed. “Oh, stop it. I know I’m hopeless. But this time I have a good excuse.” She pushed the door open and sat down next to her cousin. “I met someone. At the hardware store. They didn’t have any needles for the record player, by the way. All the metal is going to the troops. Mr. Denby really gave me the stink eye, too, like I was some kind of German spy.”
“Maybe we can sharpen the one we have, somehow. It really is too boring. Canned corn and scratched records.”
“Don’t you want to hear about the man I met?”
“Do I? What’s his problem? Flat feet, or just light in the loafers?”
“Don’t be mean. He works for the Office of War Information, in Hollywood. Isn’t that exciting?”
“Thrilling, darling. Does he have any record needles? Now, that really would be exciting.”
“No, but he’s invited me to dinner. And he thinks I’m beautiful, like Jane Russell.”
“Jane Russell indeed.” Nick looked at her and then laughed. She threw her book on the grass and put her arms around Helena. “You are beautiful. Very. In your own way. But not like that trampy Jane Russell.”
Helena leaned her head against Nick’s. “A date.”
“Yes, a date.”
“I haven’t been on a date since Fen.” Helena lifted her head and looked at her cousin. “Can I ask you a big favor? May I borrow your stockings? I know they’re your last pair.”
“You may have my stockings, darling. My contribution to the war effort. This calls for a celebration. Get out the gin and the jelly glasses and I will go find those damn stockings.”
Helena was already sipping her gin when Nick came back into the kitchen, her mouth turned down in a vaudeville version of sadness.
“Darling, I have some bad news. I think you better come with me.”
Helena followed Nick back into the small, cramped bathroom. On the curtain rod above the bathtub hung an empty hanger. Helena looked at Nick, who pointed solemnly to the bottom of the tub. She peered in at what appeared to be a pile of brown dust.
“It seems the stockings have gone on to a better p
lace,” Nick said.
“Well, for heaven’s sakes.” Helena looked up at her cousin. “They disintegrated? That’s just … tragic.”
“I know.”
“What on earth should we do?”
“Well, I think we should give them a decent burial.”
“It’s only Christian,” Helena said.
“I will prepare the ground, you should choose the procession music, since they were to be yours, darling.” Nick scooped up the dust pile and held it in her skirt.
Helena chose a record and when Nick gave her the nod from the yard, Helena put the worn needle to the vinyl.
She saw Nick throw her head back in laughter when the music floated out the window.
“Oh, Helena, I do love you,” her cousin called to her. “The Moonlight Sonata? Really, you’re too much.”
Helena opened her eyes. For a moment, she thought she was alone.
The room felt so empty. Her palms itched, the soles of her feet itched, she ached. Her pillow was wet through. Had she been crying? Then she smelled cigarette smoke. It made her sick. And she could hear snuffling somewhere behind her.
“Yes, I found him. It was all so sordid, he was shacked up with some tramp in a rat hole in town. You should have seen his face when he opened the door. So goddamn smug, like he was expecting me.” Helena held her breath. The Bitch was talking about Avery. She had to listen very carefully, she couldn’t fall asleep again.
“Hughes, we have to sell the cottage. No, we can’t afford it. He named his price and I accepted. There was nothing to be done for it. She can live off the rest. We’ll still have to pay for the hospital and for Ed’s school.”
Helena felt a peace coming over her; Avery had gotten the money. Now he would come back for her. It was all going to be all right.
“Well, what else can we do? Don’t you think I feel sick about it? I could kill him. The worst is that he got what he wanted in the end. And don’t even get me started on that vile Fox man. The money from my father’s cottage is going straight into his pocket. Remember all that ‘collection’ business? Well, you should have seen all the junk in their house, like a sad little garage sale. Like some goddamn shrine. It was disgusting.”
She was snuffling again.
“I hate myself for abandoning her to him.”
The Bitch and all her pious self-pity, as if she wouldn’t have chewed Helena up and spit her out a long time ago, if it weren’t for Avery.
“Did you make the arrangements? Yes, and what did Dr. Monty say? Hughes, I know Dr. Monty’s an idiot, but he’s our idiot. At least she’ll be in a decent, respectable institution where she can get some help, until she’s strong enough.”
What was she up to now? Avery wouldn’t let them take her away. She mustn’t get upset.
“Well, we can talk about it when I get home. What did the school say? Oh, for heaven’s sakes. It’s just boy antics. You’re too hard on him. Yes, you are. The poor boy was waiting and waiting for someone to pick him up for the holiday and no one came. It’s enough to make anyone want to cause a little trouble.”
Ed, her baby. She was talking about Ed. What holiday? The school holiday. Something about a plane ticket. A plane ticket for Ed. To come home. Was it Thanksgiving already? Oh, she had failed again. How could she be so stupid? But Ed had been cruel to her. He had abandoned her. He had. But it wasn’t his fault. He was her child and she had failed him. It was because of what he had seen. The dead girl. No, that wasn’t right. The dead girl came after. She wanted her pills. Why wouldn’t the Bitch give her another pill?
“Bill’s having a party.” Avery was sitting on the floor of his office, promotional stills of young actresses spread out in front of him. “A party for some very important people. And you know how beautiful Bill thinks you are. So he was wondering whether you might adorn his party. And, well, he’d pay.”
“What do you mean? What does that mean, Avery?” Helena felt very cold.
“No, no, no. Nothing like that,” Avery said, catching her expression. He got up and put his arm around her shoulder. “He just wants you to be there, have a glass of champagne, talk to some of the people. Don’t you know how stunning you are? Don’t you know people would pay just to look at you?”
“I don’t believe that.”
Avery laughed. “You don’t understand Hollywood, my sweet. But that’s what I love about you. Almost fifteen years, and you’re still pure and new.” He put his mouth to hers.
“Mother?”
Helena turned to see her son standing in the doorway. His body almost filled the frame of the low door. When had he gotten so tall? Avery pushed Helena away and looked at her accusingly. “Why is he always looking at us? Why does he have to skulk around doorways?”
“Avery.”
“Ed, what goes on between a man and a woman, two people who are in love, is private. Do you understand that? It is not for you to look at and watch like some Peeping Tom.”
“Avery.” Helena said again, sharply. “Don’t.” She turned to Ed. “I’m sorry, dearest, I hadn’t gotten around to asking him. Avery, Ed wanted me to ask you if he could help with your work. He’s almost thirteen and he wants to help. He knows how hard you work.”
“I’m not a Peeping Tom,” Ed said. “I’m doing research, like you.”
Avery looked hard at Ed. Then he slowly nodded his head as if he had decided something. “All right. You’re turning into a man, I can see that. A man has the right to work and be free and create. I believe that.”
Helena had an unsettled feeling in her stomach. “Avery, I don’t want you showing him the pictures of you-know-what. Please. And Ed, you must also do your schoolwork. I don’t want you locked up in some dark room all day.”
“No, Mouse. If Ed’s a man then I will treat him like one. He’s becoming.”
Ed stood there looking at his father, but Helena couldn’t read his expression. Perhaps this had been a terrible idea, she thought, looking at the two of them and then the room, with its yellowing posters and the disintegrating clothing.
She didn’t want her son to see those gruesome crime-scene photos. But she wanted them to spend more time together, that was true. They had never been close; Avery had always treated their son like he was some kind of irritating appendage of Helena’s. She decided then that she would take Ed to Tiger House again that summer, get him away for a while, away from Avery, let him play tennis and run around with Daisy, so things didn’t get out of hand.
“Now, son, I want to speak to your mother privately,” Avery said. “And don’t think I won’t know if you’re listening.”
When Ed had left, and Avery had waited to make sure he was really gone, he turned to Helena.
“So you’ll go to Bill’s party?”
“Yes. As long as it’s not anything … I don’t know. Anything strange.”
“Unless men wanting to look at a beautiful mouse is strange.”
“Avery …”
“Listen. I want to talk to you about something else, too. Dr. Hofmann called. He said you hadn’t renewed any of your prescriptions lately. He’s worried, and so am I.”
“It’s just, they make me so tired. And Ed’s not a baby anymore. I can’t send him off to play or keep him in his room. He might need me for something. And the pills, it’s like my head doesn’t work right.”
“Ed’s a man now, my love. What was that whole conversation we just had? We both need you rested and well. I’ll take care of Ed.”
“Dearest, I don’t really want to take them anymore. I don’t think I need them. Remember when I was pregnant and afterward? I wasn’t taking them, and I was fine.”
“You’re free to do whatever you want, Helena. You’ve always known that. Just promise me you’ll be on good behavior for that party. If you’re not rested, it will show in your face and Bill will be disappointed. Just think about it.”
Helena nodded. She would take one, maybe, but just for the party. After that she wasn’t taking them anymore. They di
dn’t make her sleep now anyway, unless she took a lot. And then she felt sick. While she’d known for some time that it was bad, it hadn’t seemed to matter. But now her hands shook and her heart raced in a way that frightened her. And sometimes she couldn’t remember things. She definitely wouldn’t take any when she was at Tiger House. She knew Nick would disapprove, and it would be harder to hide if they were all living under the same roof. If she felt unwell, she would have a whiskey, like everyone else in her family.
“Well, well,” Bill Fox said later that evening, as he opened the heavy, carved door to the villa. “I thought it might be you. So I said to myself: ‘Why don’t I open the door myself and make our Jane Russell feel welcome?’ Nothing like a personal greeting, is there, honey?”
“Hello, Bill.” Helena hated the Producer. He was always promising things to Avery and then changing the terms. But the Demerol was going some way to making her feel less spiteful toward him.
“Now, isn’t that a lovely dress. Hits you in all the right places, of which there are so many.” He winked. “Come on in.”
Helena was wearing a fitted teal sharkskin dress she had made from a pattern book Nick had sent her for Christmas. Her heels echoed on the Batchelder tile as she followed Bill through the vaulted hall out to the terrace.
Men in white tails were serving flutes of champagne on silver trays to the guests—a few actresses Helena had seen with Bill before and a group of older men, who she assumed worked in the business in some capacity or other.
The sun was setting, red behind the hills, and Helena leaned against the wrought-iron rail and breathed in the night air. It was different up here, at the villa. Lighter, airier. So far away from the cramped guesthouse and its drawn curtains, and yet just up the hill. She could smell the perfume from the orchard below. The Anna apples, the Eureka and sweet lemon trees, the Valencia and blood orange.
“Have a glass of champagne, honey,” Bill Fox said, motioning to a waiter. “It is beautiful up here, isn’t it?” He followed Helena’s gaze onto the orchard. “My first wife. She loved fruit trees.”
Tigers in Red Weather Page 17