The young woman had long straight brown hair, but I could not properly see her face. It was obscured either by her hair, or her arms, or blurred because of her constant movement around the room.
As I continued to go through the blue folder, I saw to my surprise how the photographs began to change.
In several, the young woman had draped herself on a chaise longue, her legs parted in a suggestive way, or she had put them high up on the back of the chaise, the filmy dress falling away, and revealingly so.
It instantly struck me that there was something erotic about these particular photographs, and because Dad had taken them they were beginning to trouble me. Why had he taken them? What was his involvement with her? This was not his style. The pictures were somewhat intimate, and I knew it was this that made me feel uneasy, uncomfortable.
I turned one over and it had my father’s typical caption on the back: a narrow strip of white paper, taped down at each end, and as usual the caption was typed. It read: Val in perpetual motion. The others read: Val impatient; Val in flight.
I frowned to myself and continued to peer at this young woman, face obscured, whom my father had photographed so assiduously. Fifteen shots so far. Quite a lot for Tommy Stone.
There were three left in the blue folder, and when I looked down at them I recoiled in shock. The woman’s face was finally revealed. It startled me because it looked so familiar, and then I realized it was my own face that was staring back at me.
This woman called Val was sitting on the chaise, the dress artfully draped, and she was staring straight into the camera. And we bore a strong resemblance to each other. No wonder she seemed familiar. There were two more shots and they made me gasp out loud.
In the first, the young woman was naked, her belly huge. She lay stretched out on the chaise, her hands covering her crotch, and she was very pregnant.
In the second shot she was also naked, standing in profile, again showing her huge belly. Her face was turned to the camera, and she was smiling. It was a curious smile. Self-satisfied, perhaps?
One frame tells it all, I thought, remembering that favourite phrase of my father’s. It was one he had used often.
Who was she? Who was this mysterious Val?
I turned the two photographs over. The caption for the reclining nude shot read: Val waiting for Serena. The second said: Val and Serena.
SERENA. My name.
Why was my name on these photographs?
Who was this woman?
I began to shake uncontrollably. The implication on the caption was obvious. This woman was pregnant with me. And since she had been photographed by my father, it was apparent she was his lover. She was expecting his child, wasn’t she?
One frame tells it all, Dad would say. This one told quite a story, didn’t it?
I closed my eyes, unable to accept the mere idea that this woman had been carrying me. I was Elizabeth Vasson Stone’s daughter. I knew I was. I had been her precious darling, the longed-for baby. Her treasure. I was hers. I was not the reason for this other woman’s big belly.
Why had my father taken these photographs? What did this woman mean to him? And who the hell was she?
I pushed all of the photographs back into the blue folder, and sat back in the chair. I was still feeling shaky, unsettled, and a bit sick, as if I was about to throw up.
My mind raced. All kinds of dire thoughts were tumbling around in my head. I endeavoured to make sense of the pictures, to no avail.
I knew suddenly what I must do. I grabbed the folder, left the studio and ran up the garden path.
Jessica was working in her office next to the library. She had to see these pictures that so alarmed me, and so did Cara.
Jessica was at her desk in the little office when I burst in unexpectedly. She glanced up swiftly in surprise.
‘I’ve found something horrendous!’ I gasped as I rushed across to her desk.
Jessica was gaping at me, obviously startled. ‘Whatever is it, Pidge darling? Why are you so upset?’
‘It’s these photographs Dad took!’ I cried somewhat shrilly, and dropped the folder on the desk in front of her.
I hovered, watching her face, as she went through the pictures. Finally, she looked at me. I saw that she was as stunned as I had been. Her face was as white as bleached bone, her dark eyes bleak.
‘Where did you find this folder?’ she asked shakily, her expression stricken. Her gaze did not leave my face.
I explained how I’d just come across it, and then said, ‘Look at the captions, Jess.’
She did as I asked, and her face became even paler. She then studied the last two shots of the pregnant woman, shaking her head in obvious disbelief.
‘Why would Dad take pictures like that?’ I asked, staring at her. ‘And who is that woman? Do you know?’
She nodded. ‘It’s Mom’s cousin. Val.’
I frowned. ‘Did you know her?’
‘Of course. We all knew her. She is Aunt Dora’s daughter, Granny’s niece. Her name is Valentina Clifford, and she used to visit us occasionally when we were little.’
‘And did I know her?’
‘Not very well, you were just a toddler. I think the last time she came to see us here was when I was eleven, so you must have been three.’
I swallowed hard, asked hoarsely, ‘What happened to her? Eventually?’ I sat down on the chair near Jessica’s desk. ‘I can’t remember her at all, so she must have stopped coming,’ I muttered.
Jessica leaned back in her chair, biting her lip. She was obviously wracking her brains, and her expression had turned thoughtful. ‘I’m not sure why she didn’t come again,’ she said at last. ‘I have a faint remembrance that she went off to cover some war or other, and she was injured, but—’
‘Was she a war photographer?’ I cried, interrupting her, more alarmed than ever.
‘Yes. She worked at Global Images. With Dad.’
So they had been buddies. I felt as if a lump of lead had settled in my stomach. ‘Did she die? Or what?’
‘She might well be dead by now,’ Jessica answered. ‘However, I do know she didn’t die from her injury. And now that I think about it, I believe she was in some sort of car crash in the war she was covering. She didn’t take a bullet or anything like that. I think she was in a jeep that overturned.’
‘When did Mom and Dad last hear from her?’ I probed. ‘Or see her? Can’t you remember?’
‘I can’t, Pidge. But she didn’t come to visit us after the accident. Cara and I were away at boarding school in England, and honestly I can’t recall seeing her again. Anyway, don’t you have any memories of her?’
‘None at all.’ I stood up, walked over to the big bay window, looked out at the garden. A replica of Mom’s Bel Air garden. My throat tightened. I swallowed hard, turned and sat down on the sofa. I was flooded with anxiety.
Jessica was focused on me, and she said in a gentle voice, ‘The photographs don’t mean anything, Pidge, truly they don’t. Let’s just destroy them and forget all about them.’
‘The captions mean something,’ I said, fighting back tears. ‘My name is on two of the captions, Jess.’
‘That means nothing!’ Jessica exclaimed heatedly, her voice rising. ‘Those photographs were obviously taken in Venice, which was once called La Serenissima, which immediately leads to the name Serena. It’s not necessarily a reference to you; many women are called after Venice. Besides which, there’s no date on the pictures. They could have been taken ten years ago, or whenever.’
I sat silently, not answering. I knew Jessica loved me, wanted to make me feel better, and her solution was to destroy the pictures and dismiss this incident as one of no consequence. But I couldn’t do that. I was troubled by the images. And my name in the two captions. Before I could stop myself I burst into tears.
Within seconds Jessica was putting her arms around me, holding me close, endeavouring to soothe me. I began to sob, and eventually, when I had calmed down a bi
t, I whispered, ‘I don’t want to be that woman’s daughter. I want to be Mom’s daughter, Jess. I’ve always been so proud to be part of her, to be her daughter. I loved her so much, still love her. I won’t be able to bear it if Mom’s not my mother. And what do those pictures say about Dad? And their great love affair? If the pictures are true? If he slept with that woman?’
Jessica answered me at once. ‘Mom and Dad did have a great love affair! All of their life together. And we witnessed it, Serena. You and me and Cara, their daughters. We grew up with it.’
I nodded, held onto her hand tightly.
She continued to speak softly. ‘And if Dad did sleep with Val, so what? It was probably a one-night stand, when they were on the front line. Something like that. And anyway, you know what men are like. And just because a married man sleeps with another woman briefly, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love his wife. That’s just the way men are.’
I sat back, gazed at my sister. ‘I do understand what you’re saying,’ I began, and then my mouth started to tremble and the tears came once more. After a moment, I managed to add, ‘But Mom and Dad were different from everybody else. They had a big love, a grand love. They were true blue, so special …’
‘What’s wrong? What’s happened?’ Cara said in a loud voice, slamming the door behind her as she came rushing into the room, obviously filled with concern.
I looked up at her and tears slid down my cheeks and splashed on my hands and I couldn’t get control of myself. It’s the shock, I thought. I’m still in shock. I groped around in my pocket for a tissue, dried my eyes and tried to get hold of my floundering emotions.
Cara came to me and took hold of my hand. ‘What’s the matter, Serena?’ she asked in the gentlest of voices.
I couldn’t speak. I just shook my head.
Jessica said, ‘I want you to look at some pictures which Serena found a little while ago. They’re very startling and upsetting. I’d like your opinion of them.’
Jessica got to her feet, went to her desk, brought back the blue folder. ‘There are captions on the back of some of them. But no date when they were taken.’
Cara sat next to me on the sofa, and began to look at the pictures. When she came to the last few she exclaimed, ‘Oh my God! What the hell are these?’ and she looked from Jessica to me, shock settling on her face. After a moment, she took a deep breath. ‘They’re pretty damned strange – weird, don’t you think? What in God’s name was Dad thinking when he took these?’
THIRTY-FOUR
‘You think Dad had an affair with Val, and that you’re the result of that affair, don’t you, Serena?’ Cara said in her inimitable, very blunt way, giving me a penetrating stare as she spoke.
‘I do,’ I replied. ‘Most of the dancing pictures are suggestive, and in two of the nude shots Val looks extremely pregnant. Also, my name is in the captions. What else can I think?’
Cara made no response.
Instead she got up, opened the French doors to the terrace, and said, ‘It’s stifling in your office, Jess. Let’s go and sit outside for a while.’
‘Good idea,’ Jessica answered, and followed Cara. I tagged along behind, immediately realizing it was so much cooler outside. Raffi had rolled down the canopy earlier in the day, so the terrace was shaded and pleasant, and there was a light breeze blowing up from the sea. I suddenly could breathe better, felt less constrained. Perhaps now that nauseous feeling would go away.
We sat down in the white wicker armchairs, surrounding a wicker coffee table, just a few steps away from the French doors and Jessica’s office.
After a moment, Cara continued, ‘Look, I can’t say I blame you for jumping to conclusions. The pictures are startling, even shocking, in a certain sense. They’re also a bit odd, because those sort of photographs are not Dad’s style. Are you sure he took them?’
‘I’ve no way of knowing,’ I answered. ‘However, they were in his filing cabinet. The first of the dancing pictures are rather beautiful, could easily be his, but I’m not so sure about the pregnant nude shots.’
Cara nodded in agreement. ‘If he did take those, then Tommy Stone was far ahead of his time, and rather daring. When was it that those pregnant nude shots of Demi Moore appeared in Vanity Fair?’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘And I’ve forgotten,’ Jessica added. ‘Some years ago, though, and you’re right, of course, Dad was ahead of his time, in many different ways.’
Cara gave me an odd look, frowning. ‘The Serena referred to in the captions might not be you, you know. Maybe Val was pregnant by her boyfriend, and had already chosen that particular name. There’s another thing – those photographs could have been taken before you were even born. Or after.’
‘I suppose so,’ I replied quietly, staring into space for a moment, wondering exactly when Dad had shot them. In the distance, I could hear the birds twittering in the trees at the edge of the lawn, beyond the sound of Raffi’s lawn mower, and I closed my eyes for a moment, remembering other lovely summer days like this, when I had lingered here with Mom, drawing pictures while she read scripts … so long ago. My throat closed. I sat very still.
‘Val couldn’t be your mother, Pidge,’ Jessica announced, taking me by surprise.
I opened my eyes, sat up straighter in the chair and stared at her. ‘What are you getting at?’
‘We were here when you were born,’ she answered, and looked across at Cara. ‘You remember, don’t you? You and I were at Jardin des Fleurs when Pidge was born here, on the sixth of July 1981. We were home from boarding school for the summer, and we went into Mom’s bedroom to see our baby sister the day after her birth.’ Smiling at me lovingly, Jessica finished, ‘You were just two days old, Pidge, and a little pink poppet.’
‘She’s right, Serena,’ Cara interjected. ‘And aside from Mom and Dad and you, and us, the only other person present was Harry.’
Cara’s expression changed, and she exclaimed, ‘Hey, what about Harry? You should call him, Serena, and ask him what he knows about the photographs.’
‘Why? What’s he going to say? And maybe he doesn’t know about them.’ I shook my head vehemently. ‘Anyway, he’d never tell us a thing. Harry was devoted to Mom and Dad, and if there are some terrible secrets from the past he’ll never divulge them, because he’d never betray Tommy … anything he knows he’ll take to the grave.’
‘Yeah, you’re right about that, I’m afraid. But I’ve just recalled something else.’ Turning to Jessica, Cara said, ‘Do you remember that year when Dad was in New York on business, and Mom was shooting in Paris, and Granny had to take me to the Chelsea Flower Show? You must remember it, because you were a stick-in-the-mud, you didn’t want to come with me. The headmistress let me go up to London and I stayed with Granny at the Dorchester, and I went to the flower show with her and Aunt Dora.’
‘Yes, I do remember. I had some exams looming and stayed at school. When you got back you said Val had put the cat among the pigeons,’ Jessica answered.
‘That’s right! And it was because she’d got engaged to her boyfriend. What was his name? Wait a minute … it was Jacques! And he was a war correspondent.’
‘So you met him?’ I asked, raising a brow, intrigued and curious.
‘I did. He worked for a French newspaper, and Aunt Dora didn’t like him,’ Cara explained.
‘Talking of Aunt Dora, don’t forget she was Granny’s twin, and they looked alike. There’s the family resemblance,’ Jessica pointed out, smiling at me again.
‘I hadn’t thought about that,’ I muttered. ‘So did Val get engaged, Cara? Did she marry Jacques?’
‘I’m honestly not sure. But I do know there was a big fracas because Aunt Dora objected.’ Cara gave me a small smile. ‘I’ve always loved that saying of Granny’s – it’s going to put the cat among the pigeons.’
‘No kidding,’ I said, shaking my head, thinking how she’d never stopped using it.
Jessica laughed and then told me,
‘I’m quite positive I never saw Val again. None of us did. She sort of disappeared.’
‘Maybe I should talk to Harry after all.’ I threw Jessica a questioning look.
‘I don’t think so, Pidge, leave it alone. Listen, I have to ask you something important. Where’s your birth certificate? That will tell us a lot.’
For a moment I was puzzled, and then it came back to me. ‘In the safe in New York. A couple of years ago, when Dad was living at the apartment, he mentioned that he’d put my birth certificate and some other family documents in the safe, plus cash, and he gave me the code number.’
‘So what did it say on your birth certificate?’ Cara asked, standing up.
‘I don’t know, I never looked. At the time, I was going off on assignment, meeting up with Zac. I had my passport, that was all I needed.’ I shrugged. ‘I’d always had a passport, so had you two. Let’s face it, we did start travelling when we were just kids.’ I shook my head. ‘I guess the birth certificate wasn’t ever at the front of my mind.’
‘So take a look at it when you get back to New York. I bet it says you were born here, and that it also gives the name of Mom’s obstetrician.’
Cara said, ‘Yes, do that. I’m going to get a bottle of water. Do either of you want anything?’
Jessica said, ‘A lemonade, please, Cara.’
‘I’d love a ginger ale,’ I said, hoping that this would make the sick feeling go away.
She watched her twin rush into the house, and then Jessica said to me softly, ‘I think you have to put all of this out of your mind, Serena darling. I really do. You’ve so much going for you at the moment, and Zac’s waiting for you in New York. You have a life to live.’
‘You’re absolutely right, and I will move on,’ I promised her, knowing how much she worried about me. ‘But there’s just one other thing I want to ask you.’
Secrets From the Past Page 20