The Angel Tree

by Lucinda Riley

  ‘No! Please, Ava, I don’t want to be alone tonight. The police have contacted me and they’re coming to see me tomorrow afternoon. I’m frightened, really frightened. Maybe they’ll say it’s my fault.’

  ‘I’m sure they won’t. They just want information.’

  ‘Please, I beg you, stay over with me. I just know I’m going to have the most terrible dreams.’

  ‘Okay,’ Ava agreed reluctantly, seeing the desperation in her mother’s eyes.

  They ate, then watched a movie and Ava yawned. ‘Time for bed,’ she said. ‘I’ll sleep on the sofa.’

  ‘Would you mind . . . would you mind sleeping with me?’ Cheska asked her. ‘It’s a kingsize. I just don’t want to be by myself tonight. I just know I’ll have bad dreams. Come and see.’

  Ava followed her out of the sitting room and into the palatial bedroom. Cheska disappeared and came back in a satin nightgown.

  ‘Won’t you get changed, Ava?’

  ‘I haven’t got anything with me.’

  ‘You can borrow one of my nightdresses, honey. I’ve got several. Go and take a look.’

  Ava went into the dressing room and gasped in astonishment. Hanging on the rail were a number of suits and dresses. Blouses, underwear and nightclothes were neatly folded on shelves. Even for someone as excessive as her mother, this was a lot to bring for a twenty-four-hour stay.

  Unless Cheska had been planning not to return to Marchmont at all . . .

  Too exhausted, drained and confused even to begin to think about it, Ava chose one of her mother’s less revealing nightgowns and slipped it on.

  When she walked back into the bedroom, Cheska was sitting up in bed. She patted it. ‘Jump in.’

  ‘Can I turn off the light?’ she asked as she did so.

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t. Talk to me, Ava.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Oh, anything nice.’

  ‘I—’ Ava couldn’t think of a thing to say.

  ‘Okay then, I guess I’ll tell you a story, as long as you come and give me a cuddle. This is fun, isn’t it? Like being in a dorm,’ said Cheska, settled into Ava’s arms.

  Ava thought with anguish of her lovely bedroom at Marchmont, now blackened and open to the night sky, all her cherished possessions gone. No, this wasn’t fun, not fun at all.

  ‘Well now, once upon a time . . .’

  Ava half listened to the fairy story her mother was telling her, something about a pixie called Shuni who lived in the Welsh mountains. Dreadful images flashed in front of her eyes: Marchmont on fire, LJ in a nursing home, David out of reach . . .

  Eventually, she dozed off. Vaguely, she heard her mother’s voice and felt a hand stroking her forehead.

  ‘Maybe it’s for the best, honey, and, anyway, Bobby’s coming for brunch tomorrow. Won’t that be lovely?’

  Ava knew she must be dreaming.

  50

  Ava woke to find Cheska’s side of the bed empty. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. She’d drunk too much champagne last night and had a headache. She looked at her watch; it was almost twenty to eleven. With a groan, she realised she’d missed her lecture.

  ‘Hi, sleepyhead.’ Cheska smiled as she emerged from the dressing room looking as if she’d just walked off the set of The Oil Barons. Her hair and make-up were perfect and she was wearing one of her smartest suits. ‘My guests are arriving in fifteen minutes. Do you want to take a shower?’

  Ava stared at Cheska in confusion. ‘But, Mother, surely you’re not having people to brunch? You said the police were coming later, and we really have to think about going home as soon as possible.’

  Cheska sat on the edge of the bed. ‘Honey, I told you, there’s nothing we can do at Marchmont. I called Jack Wallace an hour ago and he told me that everything is under control. He thinks, as I do, that it’s better to stay here for the moment. I’ve also called the nursing home and asked them to tell LJ that we’ve come down with a stomach bug and we don’t want to pass it on. It’s a white lie, I know, but at least now she won’t worry about us not visiting. Let me speak to the police this afternoon and we’ll take it from there.’ There was a knock at the door of the suite and Cheska jumped off the bed. ‘That’ll be room service. I asked for six bottles of champagne. I guess that will be enough, won’t it?’

  ‘I’ve no idea, Mother,’ Ava said helplessly.

  ‘Well, we can always order some more, can’t we?’ With that, Cheska flitted out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

  Ava sighed in despair at her mother’s mercurial mood swings, then heaved herself from the bed. Her usual energy seemed to have deserted her, and every muscle in her body ached as she walked into the luxurious bathroom to shower.

  As the water revitalised her, she tried to make sense of her mother’s behaviour, but she struggled. Last night Cheska had been distraught; this morning it was as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

  Dressing, she heard laughter from the room next door. She sat on the bed and shook her head. She couldn’t face going in. A tear trickled down her cheek and she sent up a prayer that David would get her message soon.

  There was a sudden knock on the door. ‘Hello?’ she said.

  ‘Hey, sweetheart, it’s me. What’s wrong?’ asked Simon, as he entered and walked towards her.

  Ava looked up in surprise, wondering why he was here. ‘Didn’t Cheska tell you?’

  ‘Tell me what?’

  ‘That Marchmont has burnt down? That my beautiful home is a pile of cinders?!’

  There was a short pause as Simon digested this information. ‘No, she didn’t. I did hear her mention to Dorian a few minutes ago that there’d been a problem, but that was all. Jesus!’ He ran a hand through his thick blond hair. ‘You say Marchmont is destroyed?’

  Ava wiped her eyes and nose with her hand. ‘Yes. And she doesn’t even seem to care! How could she have a party this morning? How could she?!’

  Simon sat down on the bed next to her. ‘God, Ava, I’m so sorry. Was anyone hurt?’

  ‘No. The house was empty.’

  ‘Well, that’s something, at least. I’m sure it’ll be rebuilt in no time. There’ll be insurance money and—’

  ‘But that isn’t the point! Everything has gone! My great-aunt’s in a nursing home, my uncle’s God knows where and my mother is behaving like it’s Christmas next door! I just . . . don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Ava, I promise you, I’ll help in any way I can. Now—’

  ‘Honey! Whatever’s the matter?’ Cheska was at the door, watching them.

  ‘Ava is upset about the fire at Marchmont,’ answered Simon. ‘Understandably.’

  ‘Of course she is.’ Cheska came and sat next to him on the bed. ‘I know it’s been an awful shock for you, honey, but I’m sure Bobby doesn’t want to be bored by your tears, do you, Bobby?’

  ‘My name’s Simon, and I really don’t mind at all,’ he said firmly.

  ‘Come with me, Simon,’ Cheska cajoled. ‘I want to discuss something with you.’

  ‘I will in a bit, when Ava’s calmer, okay?’

  ‘Well, don’t leave it too long. There’s someone I want you to meet.’

  Cheska left them alone, and Simon turned to Ava.

  ‘Sorry I couldn’t talk to you much on opening night.’

  ‘That’s okay.’ She shrugged. ‘You were busy.’

  ‘Your mother is certainly a monopolising force. She seems to want to turn me into a star.’

  ‘She probably can,’ Ava said miserably. ‘She usually seems to get everything she wants.’

  ‘Maybe, but look, Ava, I’ve missed you. Can I take you out to dinner one evening after the show?’

  ‘I’d like that, but with what’s happening at the moment, it may be a while before I’m able to take you up on the offer. I’m planning to head up to Wales in the next couple of days.’

  ‘Of course. I know you’ve got other things on your mind at the moment.’ Simon tipped her chin up to
wards him and gave her a light peck on the lips. ‘But when you get the chance, we can—’

  They both heard Cheska calling his name from the sitting room.

  ‘You’d better go,’ Ava said.

  Simon sighed and nodded. ‘She’s got some record producer in there she wants me to meet before he leaves. Come with me?’

  ‘No thanks. I can’t face it, sorry.’

  ‘Okay. I understand. Anything I can do in the meantime, just call, promise?’

  ‘Promise.’

  ‘Bye, sweetheart. Please take care.’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  Ava watched him go, then went to the bathroom, locked the door and ran all the taps at full pelt to drown out the sound of laughter emanating from the sitting room.

  Despite her misgivings about the bizarreness of the situation, Ava had felt guilty about not emerging for the brunch party, so she’d pacified her mother as she left by saying that she was free to come and see her the next day. She’d attended her morning lecture, but knew her concentration was shot to pieces, and returned reluctantly to the Savoy afterwards.

  Cheska was full of her meeting that morning at the BBC. ‘They’re writing me in especially. It’s so exciting, and I want to take you shopping to celebrate. And, if I’m staying here in London, I need some new clothes.’

  ‘Did the police come yesterday afternoon?’ Ava asked.

  ‘I rang to cancel,’ Cheska said airily. ‘They’re coming tomorrow instead. Now, let’s go shopping.’

  This was not a pastime Ava enjoyed at the best of times, and it seemed ridiculously frivolous in the light of what had happened, but, as usual, Cheska wouldn’t take no for an answer. So, Ava trailed after her mother around Harrods as she flitted through the racks of clothes like a bird in search of a worm.

  ‘Here, honey, can you hold this?’ Cheska lifted yet another expensive dress off the rail and into Ava’s already overflowing arms.

  ‘But, Mother, what about all those clothes you have at the hotel?’

  ‘They’re old. This is a fresh start and I want to look my best. Here, why don’t you try this on?’ Cheska had plucked a short red jacket and matching skirt off the rails.

  ‘I have lots of clothes. I really don’t need any more.’

  ‘That isn’t the point. You don’t buy these kinds of clothes to be practical. Besides, most of your stuff is at Marchmont, probably destroyed. I’m sure you’re going to need far smarter things now you’re living in London.’

  Ava glanced at the price tag on the red jacket when she tried it on. It was almost eight hundred pounds.

  ‘What do you think?’ Cheska entered Ava’s cubicle in a fashionable black-and-cream suit, sharply cut, with large shoulder pads. ‘I think it’s too officey, don’t you?’ Cheska twirled in front of the mirror.

  ‘I think you look lovely, Mother.’

  ‘Thanks. Well, there’s a heap of others to try on before I decide.’ She glanced at Ava in her red jacket and skirt. ‘That looks great. We’ll take it.’

  After what felt like hours later they left Harrods and hailed a taxi. Cheska had been unable to decide which outfit she preferred, so she’d bought all five, along with matching shoes and a couple of handbags. Everything was being delivered to the suite at the Savoy later.

  ‘Beauchamp Place, San Lorenzo, please,’ Cheska said to the taxi driver.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Ava asked.

  ‘To meet Dorian for an early supper.’

  ‘Do you really want me to come with you? I desperately need to finish an essay.’

  ‘Of course I want you to come, honey. Dorian wants to talk to you.’

  Dorian was already waiting at a table. He stood up and kissed them both, then poured some white wine into their glasses. After a preliminary round of small talk, Dorian turned to Ava. ‘Darling, myself and your mother need your help.’

  ‘Really? How?’

  ‘Well, it looks as if Cheska has landed herself a great part – especially written for her – in a big new TV soap that airs on the BBC next spring. The thing is, we need to build up her profile here in the British media. Announce she’s come home to stay and put a positive spin on why.’

  ‘And what does that have to do with me?’

  ‘Well, although her character in The Oil Barons is a household name, Cheska’s almost one hundred per cent associated with that role. And we have to wean the British public away from that association, start people thinking about Cheska herself and who she is. I have a very good friend from the Daily Mail to whom I drop titbits. She’s salivating over the thought of getting the story on you and Cheska.’

  ‘What story?’

  ‘As I’m sure you know, Ava, at the moment, no one knows you even exist. But, mark my words, they’ll find out once Cheska is on TV every Sunday night. Therefore, it’s far better for you to tell the story in your own words: a well-known actress gives birth to a daughter when she’s little more than a child herself, but has to leave her behind while she goes to forge her career in Hollywood. Mother comes back to England and is reunited with her. It’s front-page stuff, I guarantee you. What do you think?’

  ‘It sounds ghastly to me.’ Ava shuddered. ‘I don’t want the world to know about my private life.’

  Cheska took her hand. ‘I know, darling. But the problem is that if I want to stay with you here in England I’ve got to earn some money. The only way I can do that is to work as an actress. And the press will have a field day if they find out about you themselves. They’ll destroy me, I swear.’

  Ava wanted to say that the cost of the suite at the Savoy and the huge bill at Harrods would have kept her quite happily for a while.

  ‘Well, I won’t tell anyone I’m your daughter, I promise. I’d really, really prefer not to, Mother.’

  ‘I understand, Ava,’ Dorian interceded, ‘but we must handle this very carefully, for your mother’s sake. The journalist I have in mind would be . . . sympathetic. And you’d have copy approval, of course.’

  ‘You wouldn’t mind, would you, honey? Just one little article and a picture. Please? I need you to do this for me. My whole future career depends on it.’

  ‘I don’t want to, sorry,’ Ava said firmly.

  ‘But surely you want to help your mother as much as you can?’ said Dorian.

  ‘Yes, of course I do, but . . . I’m frightened. I’ve never met a journalist in my life!’

  ‘I’ll be there with you, Ava. You leave it to me to do the talking,’ said Cheska.

  Ava knew she was being steam-rollered. The sulks and cajoling she knew would ensue if she refused were too much for her to contemplate just now. She felt exhausted. ‘Fine,’ she said, but it wasn’t.

  ‘Thank you, darling,’ Dorian said with relief. ‘That’s settled then. I’ll ring Jodie tonight and organise a time for her to come to the Savoy. Now, shall we order? I’m famished.’

  After supper, which Ava only picked at, as her stomach was churning at the thought of what she’d been manipulated into, Dorian paid the bill and said he had to leave to see a client in a show. Ava sat uncomfortably at the table, waiting for Cheska to finish her coffee so she could leave.

  ‘Are you busy tomorrow?’ Cheska asked her.

  ‘Yes. All day.’

  ‘Really?’ Cheska said as they walked out onto the chilly Knightsbridge street. ‘I was assuming you’d want to be there when I see the police. They’re coming some time in the afternoon.’

  ‘Well, I can’t be there. I have a lot of work to catch up on, and I must make arrangements to go up and see LJ sometime this weekend. I don’t want to put it off any longer.’ Ava caught a glimpse of her mother’s stricken face. ‘But I’ll come to the Savoy to see you around five.’

  ‘Thank you, honey.’ Cheska hailed a passing cab. ‘You take this one,’ she said, pressing a twenty-pound note into Ava’s palm.

  ‘Really. I can get the bus.’

  ‘And really, I want you to take a cab. You know I love you, don’t you?’
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  Ava lowered her eyes and nodded. What else could she do?

  ‘You know, Ava, you weren’t there back then when I found out I was having you. I was fifteen, and so scared. I had no one to turn to. You have to remember that abortions were still illegal. Not that I’d have thought about it,’ Cheska checked herself quickly, ‘because I wanted to have you. But your grandmother had just had her accident and was in a coma, and I had no idea how to bring up a baby. When I went to Hollywood for a screen test and got myself a contract, I was told by my agent not to mention you to anyone. I know I should have refused, but can you try to understand how naive and vulnerable I was? I was younger than you are now, Ava.’

  Ava felt the eyes of the waiting cabbie upon them both. ‘Let’s talk about it another time,’ she said quickly.

  ‘See you tomorrow, darling.’ Cheska waved brightly at her as the cab pulled away. Ava sank onto the seat, her head spinning with the awful knowledge that she had been out-manoeuvred by her mother yet again.

  Back in her room, she tried to write her essay but found her thoughts drifting back to her mother. Everything Cheska was – or, at least, seemed to be – was beyond comprehension. Ava put down her pen and rested her head on her half-finished essay, thinking who on earth she could turn to for advice.

  She didn’t want to worry Mary and, for the moment, LJ wasn’t an option as a confidante. And Simon? Ava just didn’t know.

  ‘Uncle David,’ she sighed, sinking into bed exhausted, ‘please, please get my message soon.’

  The door to the suite opened and Cheska greeted Ava, smiling. ‘Inspector Crosby is just leaving. Come in and say hello.’

  Ava followed her mother through to the sitting room. The inspector looked relaxed and was putting a file into his briefcase.

  ‘This is Ava, my daughter, Inspector.’

  Ava shook the inspector’s hand. ‘Have you found out what caused the fire yet?’

  ‘The investigators are still working on it, but they’re pretty sure it was deliberate. They think it started in one of the bedrooms. Don’t you worry, miss, we’re taking this case very seriously indeed. Marchmont Hall is an important piece of national heritage, as well as being your family home, and—’