‘Yeah,’ Bobby replied, throwing her underwear to her as she lay on the bed. ‘Shake a leg, baby. I gotta go.’
‘Where to?’
‘Oh, just meeting some people.’
‘Can I come with you?’
‘Not tonight. Anyway, that mother of yours will have you for breakfast if you’re not home by ten.’
‘Could we go out together some other night? You know, to a club?’ Cheska climbed reluctantly out of the rumpled sheets and began to dress.
‘Maybe.’
‘When?’
‘Soon.’ Bobby sounded irritated.
‘Filming’s nearly over. Only a week left. Then what will we do?’
‘We’ll work something out. C’mon, Cheska. It’s gone half past nine.’
‘Sorry, Bobby.’ She followed him obediently out of the room and they walked down the stairs.
‘See you tomorrow.’ Bobby kissed her on the cheek as he hailed her a taxi outside.
‘I love you,’ she whispered before stepping inside.
‘Me too. Bye, baby.’
Cheska waved at him through the back window of the taxi and wondered where he was going. She knew so little about him, she realised, not even where he lived. But soon she would know everything about him, share his life completely, not just be a small part of it.
She was sure Bobby would ask her to marry him. After all, in her films, when two people fell in love, marriage was always the next step.
When she arrived back at the apartment she turned the key in the lock, hoping her mother would have gone to bed. With a sigh, she saw that the lights were still on in the sitting room. Greta was on the sofa in her dressing gown, watching television.
‘Hello, Mummy.’
Greta smiled tightly. ‘Hard night, was it?’
‘Yes.’ Cheska yawned. ‘Would you mind if I went straight to bed? I’m exhausted.’
‘Come and sit down while I make you a cup of tea. I want to talk to you about something.’
Cheska sighed as Greta went into the kitchen and filled the kettle. She sat down on the sofa and wished it wasn’t the weekend tomorrow. It meant there were two whole days until she saw Bobby again.
Greta came back into the sitting room carrying a tray with a teapot, milk jug and two cups. She set it down and poured the milk and tea very slowly and deliberately. ‘There you are. It should warm you up after a long night out in the cold. That is where you’ve been, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. It was freezing.’ Cheska gave a shiver and sipped the tea.
‘It’s odd, because I had a telephone call from Charles Day tonight. At about seven o’clock.’
‘Oh? What about?’
‘A change of schedule next week. It seems the actress playing your mother has gone down with a nasty stomach bug and they want to leave her scenes until the end of the week to give her time to recover.’
‘Oh.’
‘It’s peculiar, isn’t it?’ Greta sipped her tea.
‘What is?’
‘That Charles Day would have to call to tell you something when he was meant to be directing you in a scene at the very same time.’
‘Oh, well, the thing was that Charles wasn’t feeling too well either tonight, so the assistant took over,’ lied Cheska frantically.
‘Really? And what about the past two weeks? I asked Charles if you’d been filming in the evenings, and he said no. So the question is, Cheska, if you haven’t been on set, where on earth have you been?’
‘Just out,’ Cheska replied quietly.
‘“Just out”. May I ask with whom?’
‘People from the film. Friends, you know, Mummy.’
‘And would “people” by any chance include Bobby Cross?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘Don’t you dare lie to me, Cheska! You’re insulting my intelligence!’
‘I’m not lying, Mummy.’
‘Cheska, please. It’s bad enough that, because of you, I made a fool of myself on the phone to Charles Day, but to continue to lie so blatantly to my face, well—’
‘All right, Mummy!’ Cheska stood up. ‘Yes! I have been with Bobby! I love him and he loves me, and we’re going to be married one day! I didn’t tell you because I knew that, not in a million years, would you allow me to have an ordinary thing like a boyfriend!’
‘Boyfriend? I hardly think Mr Cross fits into that category, do you? He must be at least ten years older than you, Cheska!’
‘What does age matter? What about my father? You told me he was much older than you. If you love someone, it makes no difference, does it?’ Cheska spat out the words venomously.
‘Let’s both calm down, shall we?’ Greta wiped her hand across her forehead, trying to control her anger. ‘Look, darling, please understand that I’m hurt because you didn’t tell me what you were doing. I thought we always told each other the truth?’
‘But can’t you see I’m growing up? I have to be allowed to have some secrets.’
‘I know that. I do appreciate that you have your own life to lead, and that I can only play a small part in it from now on.’
‘Oh, please! Don’t try and make me feel guilty. I’m going to bed.’ Cheska began walking towards the door.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to sound the way it did,’ Greta said quickly, knowing that, whatever she felt, she was in danger of losing Cheska completely if she didn’t change tack. She forced a smile. ‘Why don’t you tell me about Bobby?’
Cheska stopped in her tracks and turned back, her eyes filling with warmth at the sound of his name. ‘What do you want to know about him?’
‘Oh, what’s he like, the things you do together. I understand you’re growing up and I want to be your friend as well as your mother.’
‘Well,’ she began tentatively, then, as her mother smiled at her encouragingly, she opened up and talked about Bobby, pouring out the way she felt.
‘So, Bobby was the reason you stayed down in Brighton for the weekend?’
‘Yes. I’m really sorry, Mummy. We just wanted to spend some time together, that’s all.’
‘Did Leon know the truth?’
‘Er, no, not really,’ Cheska replied shiftily. ‘Don’t blame him. I asked him to ring you.’
‘So you think you’re in love with Bobby?’
‘Oh yes, definitely.’
‘And you think he’s in love with you?’
‘I’m sure of it.’
‘Cheska, you’re not . . . you’re not sleeping with him, are you?’
‘Of course not!’ Cheska’s years of experience in front of the camera came into play and she managed to look suitably horrified.
‘Well, that’s something. Men are strange creatures, you know. I’m sure Bobby isn’t like that, of course, but you need to be aware that some of them are only after one thing. I know the world has changed, but it’s still best to wait a while, until you’re absolutely sure.’
‘Of course, Mummy.’
‘You will tell me, won’t you, if Bobby asks you to sleep with him?’
Cheska blushed and lowered her eyes. ‘Yes.’
‘We’ve never really discussed the facts of life, but I suppose you know by now how everything . . . works. And what can happen if you’re not careful. If anything . . . happened to you, it could destroy your future. Come and sit next to me, darling.’ She patted the sofa next to her and folded her arms around her daughter as she stroked her hair. ‘I remember my first love well. I don’t think you ever forget.’
‘Bobby said something like that. Who was yours?’
‘He was an American officer, over here in London during the war. I was devastated when he left, thought I’d never get over it. Of course, I did, in time. Uncle David helped me a lot.’
‘Do you love David? You used to see him all the time and now you don’t.’
‘Yes, I do, Cheska, we’ve known each other a very long time. But we’re also great friends, which is very important too.’
‘Like
a brother, you mean?’
‘I suppose so, yes. To be honest, men and I have never seemed to be a good combination. They’ve caused me more problems than they’ve given me happiness. Love is a very strange thing, Cheska. It can change your life, make you do things that, in the cold light of day, you’d know were wrong.’
‘The madness of love,’ murmured Cheska. ‘That’s Bobby’s new song.’
‘And I hope you can understand that I don’t want to see you tread the same path as I did. Fall in love by all means, but always keep something for yourself. Forge your own future, without depending on a man. Now, I think it’s time you went to bed.’
Cheska sat up. ‘Thank you, Mummy, for being so . . . understanding. I’m sorry I lied to you.’
‘I know, darling. I just want you to remember that I’m your friend, not your enemy. And I’m always here if there’s something you want to talk about.’
Cheska hugged Greta impulsively. ‘I love you, Mummy.’
‘And I love you, too. Now, off to bed with you.’
‘Goodnight, then.’ She rose from the sofa.
‘Oh, by the way, our passports arrived this morning, and Leon is organising the visas for America. It’ll be exciting to visit Hollywood, won’t it?’
‘Yes,’ Cheska answered half-heartedly.
‘Goodnight, darling, and don’t forget to take your tablet.’
‘I won’t.’
Greta watched her daughter walk slowly out of the room. She closed her eyes, in relief, feeling calmer than she had for weeks. It was imperative that Cheska trusted her. When the relationship with Bobby Cross ended, as Greta knew it would, she’d be there to pick up the pieces. It would be she to whom Cheska would turn for comfort. And her daughter would come back to her, where she belonged.
After Cheska had flushed the tablet down the lavatory, she lay in bed thinking about what her mother had said. It was the most grown-up conversation she’d ever had with her. She smiled. Rather than tearing them further apart, Bobby had brought them closer together. She liked the thought of that. And she was sure that when they married, even though she would have to live with Bobby, there was no reason why her mother couldn’t be a big part of their future.
One part of the conversation disturbed her, though.
‘Always keep something for yourself . . .’
She sighed and turned over. That was something she couldn’t do. Bobby had all of her. If he asked her tomorrow to give up her career and move with him to the other side of the world, she’d go willingly.
Bobby Cross was her destiny. He owned her, body and soul.
28
On Sunday evening Cheska went down with the same stomach bug that had affected the actress playing her mother in the film. She spent most of the night in the bathroom being violently ill.
At seven o’clock on Monday morning, as she lay in bed feeling weak and wretched, Greta came into her bedroom.
‘I’ve called Charles and told him you’re far too poorly to work today. He sends his love and told me to tell you not to worry. They can shoot around you for the next couple of days.’
‘Oh, but—’ Cheska’s eyes filled with tears at the thought of not seeing Bobby for another forty-eight hours.
‘There, there, darling. Could you manage to take your tablet?’ Greta offered it to her daughter with a glass of water.
Cheska shook her head and turned away miserably.
Greta arranged her covers and swept her matted hair back from her forehead. ‘Try to get some sleep now, darling. I’m sure this’ll pass as quickly as it came.’
The following day Cheska was feeling better and on Wednesday she told her mother she was well enough to go back to work.
‘But you haven’t eaten anything for the past two days. I think you should stay in bed another day at least.’
‘No, Mummy, I’m going. The shoot’s due to wrap on Friday and they’ve already had to change the schedule because of me. I’m a pro, remember? That’s what you’ve taught me.’
Greta couldn’t disagree, so Cheska got out of bed and dressed. However ghastly she felt physically, the strain of going another day without seeing Bobby was far worse. She wondered how she would possibly cope when filming finished and she no longer saw him every day.
She staggered through the day’s shoot, feeling dizzy and faint, until Charles came up to her, put an arm round her shoulders and told her he was sending her home. ‘Go and have an early night, sweetheart. We can do some exterior stuff with Bobby.’
Cheska looked over at Bobby, who was laughing with one of the make-up girls. She’d hoped he might suggest they slip away together, but he’d hardly spoken to her all day. She watched as he put an arm round the girl, hugged her, then walked off. She ran to catch up with him. ‘Bobby, Bobby!’
He stopped and turned to her. ‘Hello, baby. Boy, you look dreadful.’
‘I’m okay. Shall we go to the bed and breakfast tonight?’
‘I thought Charles was sending you home?’
‘He is, but I could meet you later.’
‘And give me your bug? I don’t think so.’ He chuckled. ‘Sorry, baby, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Look, you go home and tuck yourself up in bed.’
‘What about tomorrow night, then?’
‘Well, it sounds as if we’re gonna be shooting for most of tomorrow evening to make up for lost time. But there’s the end-of-shoot party on Friday. We’ll see each other then, okay?’
‘Okay.’ Cheska felt crushed. At the party, they’d be surrounded by the rest of the cast and crew, which wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind.
‘Bye, darlin’.’ Bobby waved casually as he walked away.
All Cheska’s scenes were finished by midday on Friday. Charles gave her a hug and told her she’d been wonderful. She hung around for lunch, just in case Bobby was there, but he’d disappeared. With a sigh, Cheska left the school and got into the car that was waiting for her.
‘Home, miss?’ asked the driver.
‘Yes . . . er . . . no. Could you take me into the West End, please?’
‘Sure.’ He started the engine and they set off. Cheska stared out of the window as they drove down Regent Street. Shoppers were wrapped up warmly against the chilly October afternoon.
‘Here we go, love. You take care now.’
‘Thanks,’ Cheska said, stepping out of the car. ‘Now where should I start?’ she murmured to herself. She looked in the window of Marshall & Snelgrove and decided it was as good a place as anywhere.
An hour and a half later she was staggering under the weight of the bags she was carrying. She’d had a wonderful time, buying her first denim jeans, a pair of brightly coloured checked ski-pants that hugged her slim hips and two turtleneck sweaters. At Mary Quant, she’d bought the most wonderful dress to wear to the party tonight – a little black number, similar to the one she’d seen Audrey Hepburn wearing in the publicity material for Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
Cheska hailed a taxi, wondering what her mother would have to say about her purchases, and headed for home.
‘Well, what do you think?’ Cheska came into the sitting room and did a twirl for Greta.
Greta swallowed hard. Her daughter looked stunning. The skimpy black dress showed off her lovely figure and the way she had styled her hair on top of her head gave her an added air of elegance.
‘You look absolutely beautiful, darling, but you need some jewellery. Wait here.’ Greta stood up and disappeared into her bedroom, coming back with a string of pearls. ‘There.’ She fastened them around Cheska’s neck. ‘Have you got a coat? You’ll catch your death in that dress.’
‘Yes, Mummy.’
‘Where’s the party?’
‘At The Village in Lower Sloane Street.’
‘That’s a very fashionable spot, isn’t it? Well, have a wonderful time. What time will you be back?’
‘I don’t know. But late. Don’t wait up. Goodbye, Mummy.’
‘Goodbye, darling.’ Gr
eta gritted her teeth as she heard the front door shut. She faced another evening alone and thought yet again how hard it was to watch her daughter turning into an adult.
During the long, lonely days while Cheska was working, Greta had found plenty of time to think. And much of it had been spent analysing her true feelings for David.
It had begun on the night Cheska had confided in her about Bobby and asked her if she loved David. Ever since then, Greta had looked back on the once close relationship they’d shared. He’d been such a big part of her life before his proposal. And Greta had to admit she’d missed him terribly over the past five years. He’d always been there for her, undemanding and supportive, and she realised now that she had almost certainly taken him and his kindness for granted.
When he’d asked her to marry him, she’d been riding high, Cheska had filled her life, and this, added to her resolution not to allow any man near her heart, had elicited her firm refusal.
The thing she’d pondered on most was whether she missed him simply because Cheska had gone and there was now a void in her life that David was the obvious candidate to fill. Or whether it was him she missed.
Greta thought of the times they had spent together over the years. Not only had David provided a listening ear and sound advice, but he’d always had the ability to cheer her up when she’d been at her lowest ebb. She felt better when she was with him, and she longed now for the lightness he’d brought to her life.
She’d also begun to see a clearer picture of herself as she’d been over the past few years: her grim determination to make Cheska a star, to control her and her career to the detriment of everything else. With her heart firmly locked away, Greta knew she had become hard; all the softness that had once led her time and again into trouble had gone. Even though this meant she was safe from any further hurt, it meant there were rarely times of joy. She tried to recall the last time she’d actually laughed, and couldn’t.
David made her laugh. His belief that any situation, however dire, had some humour in it somewhere provided the perfect antidote to her own tendency towards seriousness.
As Greta began to wake up from her emotional torpor, she contemplated how she had always considered love as a passionate madness that was all-consuming. Just as Cheska was feeling now with Bobby Cross. But she could see quite clearly that what her daughter was experiencing was infatuation, which was simply about physical chemistry.
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