‘Ma, she really is a friend,’ he’d insisted that first weekend.
Throughout the next few months David began to rediscover himself; his love for music and the arts, walking hand in hand down a country lane after a large Sunday lunch, books they’d both read which were discussed over a bottle of wine late into the night. He felt, above all, that he’d found a woman who appreciated and enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed hers.
Then Tor announced that she’d decided to take a year’s sabbatical from Oxford, visiting some of the distant places she’d taught and written endlessly about but never seen. She had asked him playfully if he wanted to go with her. And even though he’d laughed at the time, when he mulled the idea over, he’d started to think that perhaps it was exactly what he needed. Her eyes had been full of joy and disbelief when he’d said he wanted to join her.
‘But what about your career? And Greta?’
Tor knew all about her, of course. She was a big part of his life. Most Sundays for the past seventeen years, Greta had come for lunch at his house in Hampstead or he had visited her – although, recently, David had guiltily cancelled a few times because he had arranged something with Tor. He was well aware how dependent Greta was on him. She rarely went out, finding crowds upsetting, had no visitors apart from himself and Leon, who paid the occasional duty call to her, and, even more rarely, LJ and Ava, when they visited him in London. Greta found the thought of spending even a night away from the sanctuary of her Mayfair apartment untenable. She lived as a virtual recluse.
That moment, when she’d opened her eyes after all those long months in a coma, was one he’d never forget. The joy he’d felt as all his love for her surged to the surface and he covered her face in kisses, his tears dripping unchecked onto her pale face, had quickly turned to horror when she’d batted him away with her thin arms and asked who on earth he was. Over the years, he’d begun to accept the way things were and might always be. He’d had little choice, as Greta’s memory stubbornly refused to return.
David did not resent her dependency on him in the slightest; he loved her, after all. But as Greta had never given him a single indication of wanting anything other than his friendship and support, the situation had remained unresolved all these years.
Meeting Tor had crystallised their relationship further. David had finally begun to realise what his mother had been trying to tell him all along: it was hopeless pining for Greta.
Ma was right. He had to move on.
Once David had reassured Tor he was serious about joining her on her travels, they had begun to plan their route. They’d decided to visit India first and, from there, as Tor was a keen walker, they would fly up to Lhasa in Tibet before trekking for several weeks in the Himalayas. After that, they planned to travel through China by the Marco Polo route, a journey Tor had dreamed of making for years.
David poured the dregs of his tea into the sink. When he flew home, he knew he had to speak to Greta and tell her about his forthcoming trip. She was used to him coming to Hollywood for a few weeks at a time – he’d often asked her if she wanted to come, too, and perhaps visit Cheska – but she had always declined. However, six months was a long time. He’d have to ask LJ or Ava to visit her during his absence.
And now he was here, by complete chance, facing what he knew was going to be a difficult situation to extricate himself from quickly. He called Tony, his friend, and said something had come up and he wouldn’t be able to make it today after all.
Putting down the receiver, he couldn’t help but compare Cheska’s current state as a wreck asleep on the sofa to the beautiful woman whose famous face filled television screens, newspapers and magazines across the world.
Something terrible must have happened recently to bring her to the brink of suicide. He wondered how he could find out what it was. He glanced at the names and numbers written on the pad next to the telephone in Cheska’s childish looped writing. Bill Brinkley’s was the third number. He was the agent she’d taken on after she’d moved here, having unceremoniously sacked Leon. Surely he’d know what had happened to her?
He dialled the number and asked to be put through.
‘Bill, it’s David Marchmont. I think we’ve met at a couple of parties here.’
‘Yes, I remember. How’re you doing, David?’
‘I’m very well, thank you.’
‘And what can I do for you? Looking for a new agent? I’d be happy to tender my credentials.’
‘Thanks, but no thanks, Bill.’
‘Okay. So if I can’t represent you, what else can I do for you?’
‘Have you seen Cheska recently? You know she’s my niece.’
‘Really? I didn’t know that. And, as she fired me a couple of months back and made it clear she didn’t want to hear from me again, the answer is no, I haven’t seen her.’
‘I see. Why did she fire you, if you don’t mind me asking?’
‘You don’t know already? I thought it was all over town.’
‘Maybe I know the wrong people, but the news hasn’t crossed my bow-wave before now, no.’
‘Well, it’s certainly not in the public domain yet, so keep it to yourself. They’re gonna announce Gigi’s dramatic end a month or so before the show is aired again in October. Stir up interest to fever pitch. They’re expecting record ratings when it’s broadcast. So the reason Cheska fired me is that she blamed me for the studio writing her out.’
‘I see. So who looks after her now?’
‘No idea. Someone said she was going off to Europe to take a break before she decided what to do next.’
‘Right. Do you mind me asking why they didn’t renew her contract? It’ll go no further, I promise you. I am her uncle, after all, and I’m just . . . concerned for her.’
‘Well . . .’ Bill paused. ‘Okay, as you’re related to her, I’ll tell you. Cheska was becoming too hot to handle. Making big financial demands, turning up late at the studio and getting herself photographed alongside the wrong kind of guy. I’m afraid she brought it on herself, David. But if you do speak to her, don’t tell her I said that.’
‘Of course not. Well, good to talk to you, Bill, and thanks for being so honest.’
‘No problem. Send my love to England and, if you see Cheska, give her my regards. She’s one screwy dame, but I’ve got a soft spot for her. She was one of my first clients.’
‘Will do, Bill. Thank you. Goodbye.’
He put down the receiver, walked back into the sitting room and saw that Cheska was still asleep. David sighed. He understood it all now. Playing nursemaid to his niece yet again was the last thing he’d anticipated when he’d flown into LA, but he could hardly walk away and leave her alone now.
David went out to his car to bring in his suitcase. Unpacking it in Cheska’s spare room, he pondered why fate had propelled him back into the past, when, for the first time in years, he’d been so eagerly looking forward to the future.
41
Three hours later, Cheska woke up. Despite her protests, David insisted on calling her doctor and asking him to come and examine her. The doctor duly arrived and after a quick chat to let him know what had happened, David took him into the sitting room, expecting to find Cheska where he’d left her on the sofa. She wasn’t there. He climbed the stairs and knocked on her bedroom door. He turned the handle, and discovered it was locked.
‘Cheska, let me in. The doctor wants to take a look at you.’
‘No!’ Her voice was agitated. ‘I’m fine. Tell him to go away!’
No amount of persuasion would make her open the door. Eventually, he retreated back downstairs.
‘Well, there’s not much we can do, is there?’ said the doctor. ‘Try and persuade her to come and see me tomorrow and, in the meantime, encourage her to eat something and let her sleep as much as possible. My guess is that she’s suffering from depression.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ David said, as he let the doctor out.
An hour later, Cheska
appeared downstairs.
‘It’s all right. He’s gone,’ David said calmly, switching off the television. ‘What on earth was all that about?’
Cheska slumped on the sofa. ‘I hate doctors. I don’t trust any of them. You and LJ put me in that mental hospital when I was pregnant and people used to scream and cry all night. No one’s ever going to do that to me again.’
‘It was the doctors who suggested that you went into hospital, Cheska. And we were only doing it for your own good. And Ava’s, of course.’
Cheska stared off into the distance, as if she were listening to something. She turned to David, her eyes glazed and dull. ‘Sorry?’
‘Nothing. You’re going to have to start eating and taking care of yourself, Cheska. You look dreadful. And your house is a pigsty.’
‘I know.’ She smiled suddenly and stretched out her arms to him. ‘Oh Uncle David, I’m so glad you’re here. You won’t leave me alone, will you? I don’t like being alone.’
‘Well, if you want me to stay, you’re going to have to start behaving yourself, young lady.’ He stood up and went to embrace her.
Cheska snuggled into his arms, as she had when she was a small child. ‘I will, Uncle David, I promise.’
The following few days were extremely difficult, as the whole sorry story began to come out. Cheska rarely slept and would appear in his bedroom at odd hours, shuddering with terror from another nightmare. He would hold her, comforting her as she talked.
‘Oh Jesus, Uncle David. They fired me, they actually fired me! Me, Cheska Hammond, major star! It’s all over. I have no future now, no future at all. I’m all washed up, as they say here.’
‘Come on now, sweetheart, don’t be silly. There are heaps of actors who leave one show and make it big again in something else. Something will turn up, I know it will.’
‘Yes, but it’s got to turn up now, Uncle David, I haven’t got a penny. I’m up to my neck in debt and the bank’s bound to repossess the house—’
‘But what happened to all the money your mother invested for you? And the money you’ve been earning since?’
‘I spent it all. And what I didn’t spend, my shit of an ex-husband took, or the taxman. There’s nothing left, nothing. Oh, Uncle David, my life’s such a goddamned mess.’
He put his arms around her thin frame and held her to him. ‘Cheska, I’ll help you sort things out.’
‘Why would you want to help me, after the way I behaved all those years ago?’ she cried.
‘I watched you grow up, Cheska. You’re the nearest thing to a child of my own I’ve ever known. And families stick together in times of crisis.’
Cheska looked up at him, her pale face streaked with tears. ‘And you’ve always been like the father I never had. Thank you.’
A couple of days later David put in a call to Tor – who had been expecting him in Oxford for the coming weekend – and explained the situation.
‘Never mind, darling. At least it’s happened now and you can deal with it before we leave rather than when we’re halfway up the Himalayas and uncontactable. You do think Cheska will be stable enough for you to leave her by then, don’t you?’
David could hear the hint of anxiety in her voice. ‘Yes. She’ll have to be, because I’m not cancelling this trip for anyone. I’ll let you know when I’m flying back.’
‘Take care of yourself, David.’
‘I will. And you.’
As David replaced the receiver, he hoped and prayed that his firm stance on the subject wouldn’t be put to the test. This trip was for him and, for a change, he was going to put his own needs and wants first.
Fortunately, with each passing day, Cheska began to look a little better. The doctor had prescribed sleeping tablets and with their help, she began to sleep through the nights and the colour returned to her cheeks. David managed to get her to eat regularly and made sure she dressed in the mornings. There were still moments when she’d disappear off into her own private world, even when he was speaking to her, and her beautiful eyes would take on their strange, glassy expression. She never mentioned Greta or Ava. David followed her lead and didn’t bring them up either. He also refrained from telling his mother the real reason he was delayed in Los Angeles. He knew how much any news of Cheska upset her.
One beautiful, balmy evening David had just put the phone down to Tor, after reassuring her that Cheska seemed much better and that he hoped to be able to fly home soon. He turned to see Cheska standing behind him.
‘Who were you speaking to, Uncle David?’
‘Tor . . . Victoria, my friend.’
‘Are we talking “friend friend”, or “girlfriend”?’ she asked, a hint of mischief in her voice. ‘From the way you were speaking to her, I’d say the latter.’
‘I suppose she’s both,’ David replied cautiously.
‘I have some wine open on the terrace. Want to come out and watch the sunset and tell me about her?’
David followed her outside. The view from the terrace was incredible. In the valley below Cheska’s exclusive hilltop perch the lights of downtown Los Angeles twinkled against the dark-blue sky, which was dramatically streaked with vermilion and gold clouds. He leant against the railings, taking in the spectacle.
‘You are a dark horse, Uncle David.’ Cheska smiled as she handed him a glass of wine. ‘Come on then, tell me.’
So David found himself telling Cheska – who seemed hungry for even the tiniest detail – all about Tor and the trip they had planned together.
‘She sounds lovely, and you sound a little in love,’ she commented.
‘Maybe I am. But when you get to my grand old age, things are different. We’re taking it slowly. And the trip will tell us both a lot. We’ll be thrown together for six months.’
‘So when do you leave?’
‘The middle of August, just after my mother’s birthday party.’
‘You know, I used to think you were in love with my mother,’ Cheska mused. ‘I even hoped that one day you’d get married.’
‘I asked her once,’ David confessed, ‘but she refused me.’
‘Then she was very stupid. Anyone could see she loved you, too.’
Surprised at her comment, David remained silent. He wanted to see if Cheska would ask how her mother was now, but she didn’t, so after a few seconds he moved the conversation on. ‘And Ava, of course, turns eighteen next month.’
‘My little daughter, Ava, all grown up.’ Cheska said the words as if she were reminding herself who Ava was. ‘How is she?’
‘Very well. Bright, pretty, and—’
‘Does she look like me?’
‘Yes, I think she does. She has the same colouring, but she wears her hair short, is much taller than you are and, well, to be frank, she couldn’t be more different from you in personality.’
‘That’s a blessing,’ she murmured to herself.
‘Sorry?’
‘Oh, nothing. Tell me about her, Uncle David: what she likes, what her ambitions are. Does she want to be an actress?’
He chuckled. ‘No. Ava wants to be a vet. She has the most wonderful way with animals.’
‘I see. Does she . . . does she know who I am?’
‘Of course she does. LJ and I have made a point of talking about you. Ava is addicted to The Oil Barons. She watches you every week.’
Cheska shuddered and David kicked himself for his faux pas.
‘And LJ? I suppose she hates me, doesn’t she?’
‘No, Cheska, she doesn’t hate you.’
‘You must both have found it difficult to understand why I came here and left Ava behind, but can’t you see, I didn’t have a choice? I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t let me go. I had to make a clean break, get away from the past and try to start again.’
‘Cheska, we both understand. But, to be frank, it’s been very difficult for LJ in the past few years. She’s become a surrogate mother to Ava and I think she’s always worried that, one day, you might want y
our daughter back. My mother loves Ava like her own child, and any negative feelings she’s had towards you have been completely forgotten for Ava’s sake.’
Cheska sighed heavily. ‘I’ve really screwed up my life, haven’t I, Uncle David? My career’s crumbled, I can’t hold down a relationship and I abandoned my own daughter.’
‘Cheska, you’re only thirty-four. Most people’s lives are only beginning to blossom at that age. You talk as if you’re as old as I am.’
‘I feel as old as you. I’ve been working my butt off for thirty of those years.’
‘I know. And I wish I’d never introduced you to Leon all those years ago. You can blame me for beginning it all.’
‘Of course I don’t. It was what life had stored up for me. Uncle David, can I ask you something?’
‘Fire away.’
‘Do you . . . do you think I’m . . . normal?’
‘It depends on how you define “normal”, Cheska.’
‘Well, let me put it like this: do you think I might be crazy?’
‘You’ve had a very unusual life. Being under the kind of pressure you experienced from such a young age is bound to have had repercussions. If you’re worried, you could always go and speak to someone about how you feel.’
‘No way! Never again! Shrinks don’t help, they just interfere where they’re not wanted and make things worse. The thing is, Uncle David’ – Cheska took a deep breath – ‘sometimes I hear these . . . voices in my head. And they, well, they make me do things I . . . I—’
David could see that she was becoming agitated. ‘When do you hear the voices?’
‘When I’m angry or upset or—’ She shivered. ‘I can’t talk about it any more. Please don’t tell anyone, will you?’ she begged.
‘I won’t, but I really do think you should talk to someone, Cheska. It might be something simple, like needing a complete rest.’ David spoke with a confidence he didn’t feel. ‘When did you last hear them?’
Cheska seemed to be having an inner struggle with herself. ‘I didn’t hear them for years, and then . . . I said I can’t talk about it anymore, okay?’
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