by Kate Forster
Birdie had come and gone from his life too many times now for Spencer to forgive her. He loved her, that he was certain. But he would not pine for her, he decided. Not after the news that had come to his desk that afternoon. Birdie was a mother now. Three girls, no less. She must have conceived them just after she left Spencer, he had thought, when he counted back the months. For a brief moment he hoped that she was wrong and that they were his, and they would come out with the Blanchard eyes, blue and fringed with long lashes. But no mention of the babies’ eyes was made when he heard from Susie, Birdie’s excited mother.
Spencer had made the appropriate noises of wonder at three babies and offered Susie his congratulations but didn’t mention Birdie. He couldn’t, it hurt more than he could bear.
And now he sat on the porch of his falling down house, alone again.
The dream of him and Birdie being together, rebuilding his house and building a life was over, and he knew it.
And then he cried, openly, not caring any more. Oh Birdie, you have broken my heart, he thought as he swung back and forth in the night.
18
‘Hi, Jeff,’ said Violetta as she passed him in the hallway at the hospital.
Jeff blushed. ‘Hi, Violetta.’ He felt like a schoolboy around her.
‘How’s things?’ she asked as she filled up the water jug for her mother’s room.
‘OK. I saw you on television,’ he said.
‘It’s a silly show,’ said Violetta, suddenly ashamed.
It was a silly show. The women were made out to be vapid and pointless, which their lives were. But Violetta knew that Sabrina and CeCe did lots of work for charities, not that they showed any of that.
Violetta had much pleasure in sticking to her schedule of going out at least four nights a week as the contract stipulated, but instead of heading to parties she went to a soup kitchen to volunteer, one that her mother had supported for years, or to free poetry readings at the local student café. She went to bookstores and browsed for hours and even went to lectures at the Frick and to the Transit Museum to listen to a discussion on archaeology in the ferry terminals of New York. Lesley thought it was hilarious but Adam didn’t see the funny side when he rang to abuse Violetta.
‘I had my contract checked, I am not breaking it in any way,’ she had told him.
‘Fuck you,’ he said over the phone.
‘I already have, remember,’ she said, as she hung up on him.
New York was filled with so many things to do Violetta felt like her world was opening up. The city was not the one that she had known before as part of the privileged elite and it was fun. The camera was annoying but mostly they would film her entering the event and sometimes leaving. Lesley started to email Violetta some of New York’s more alternative events that she thought she might like to venture out to.
Between working out how much she could get away with on the TV show and working at Pajaro, she was almost having fun, until she went back to the hospital to sit with her mother.
‘Your mom’s doing better,’ Jeff was saying.
‘You think?’ asked Violetta anxiously. ‘She seems the same to me.’
‘It was a serious injury, it will take time to come back from. And even if she does, things may not be easy for her,’ Jeff said gently.
‘I know, I just want her to wake up.’
Violetta gulped to hold down the tears. She was so tired and even though New York was fun, she really wanted to go home and sleep.
Violetta put her head back, hoping the tears would go back from where they came.
‘Your mom is due for another scan tomorrow,’ he said. ‘We will know more by then. Sometimes all we can to do is wait. It’s hard, I know, but it is the only thing.’
‘And us? I’m sick of waiting,’ said Violetta, looking at his face. Sick of waiting for Jeff to come to her. Sick of waiting for Birdie to wake up. She was tired of it all.
Jeff shook his head. ‘I know it’s hard for everyone.’
‘Do you think about me at all?’ Violetta asked suddenly.
Jeff sighed.
‘Do you?’ asked Violetta, feeling angry. ‘Or was I just a fuck to you?’ she challenged him.
Jeff grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the stairwell. He pushed her up against the wall and put his arms on either side of her. ‘I think about you first thing when I wake up and last thing at night. I think about you all day and even when I sleep you are in my dreams. So no, you weren’t just a fuck to me. You know how I feel, you must.’
Violetta felt his body against hers and her pelvis arched up towards his and she kissed him passionately.
‘Good,’ she said, and then slipped out from under his arms and left Jeff alone with his hard-on in the stairwell.
Inside Birdie's room, Violetta looked at her mother. Wasn’t her head turned towards the window before? Now it was turned towards the door.
‘Mom?’ asked Violetta. ‘Can you hear me?’ she asked, holding her breath.
But Birdie said nothing, there was no movement. All Violetta could hear was the whirring of the air-conditioning. She leaned down and kissed her mother. I must have imagined it, she told herself, and brushed the tears away from her eyes.
‘Bye Mom, I’ll be back tomorrow. Carlotta’s coming in soon,’ she said, and left the room quietly.
As the door closed Birdie turned her head again in the direction of the window.
But there was nobody there to see it.
*
Grace tugged at her Alexander Wang dress as they sat in the car. ‘You sure I look all right?’ she asked.
Frank looked her over. ‘You look like the New York lady.’
‘What does that mean?’ she asked quickly, as Frank leaned out and rang the buzzer on the gate.
‘Hello.’ Grace heard a man’s voice.
‘It’s me, idiot.’ Frank said into the speaker.
The man on the other end laughed. The gates swung open and they drove up the driveway to a gorgeous Spanish villa. A man came out and stood by the front door. Frank jumped out and ran towards him and hugged him.
‘Man, it’s good to see you.’
Grace stood awkwardly in front of the men in their jeans and T-shirts.
‘TG, this is Grace, Grace this is TG.’
TG came and shook Grace’s hand and kissed her cheek. ‘So you’re the one we keep hearing about, huh?’
Grace smiled at TG, who seemed warm and friendly, like Frank.
‘Well, I hope the reviews are good,’ she said, laughing.
‘Oh, I never pay any attention to reviews,’ laughed TG. ‘Just box office. And Frank has plenty of returns at the box office.’
Grace saw Frank frown at him briefly. Was that a joke about Frank being low on money or out of work? Grace wasn’t sure.
‘Come in, come in,’ said TG, opening the door.
The house was welcoming. Grace stood and looked at the movie posters and collectables in the sitting room.
‘You have quite a collection,’ she said, noting an original King Kong poster.
‘It’s Calypso’s and mine. We are pack rats. We can’t say no to a new piece. You should see the baby’s room,’ he laughed.
Just as he spoke, Calypso walked in holding a baby.
‘Hi,’ she said in her pretty voice. ‘I’m Calypso.’ She kissed Frank on the cheek. ‘Hey Frankie, finally you get to meet August.’
Frank smiled at the baby. ‘Hey, August. How you doing?’ He took the baby’s chubby hands and shook them and the baby smiled at him.
‘Come and sit down, I have some drink coming,’ she said. She handed August to TG, who sat while August stood on his father’s knees and balanced.
‘So great to see you, Frank,’ said Calypso.
While she and Frank caught up, Grace assessed her as a potential model. She was tiny and had the most perfect body Grace had ever seen, everything was in proportion. And her hair was like a halo, strawberry blonde with soft curls. Grace noted the n
avy blue glitter nail polish on her toes and the pretty bracelet of crystals and little icons on her wrist. She was bohemian without trying too hard, the perfect California girl.
Grace felt over-dressed compared to Calypso’s little skirt that Grace recognised as Marni, and a nondescript singlet. Neither of the hosts was wearing shoes and Grace looked down at her sling backs, wishing she had worn flats instead.
The housekeeper came into the room with iced tea and a plate of fruit and corn chips. TG looked at Frank. ‘Rum, sir?’ he asked.
‘Indeed,’ said Frank.
TG placed August carefully on the floor, who proceeded to crawl to his toys, while TG opened a vintage Danish cabinet and took out a bottle of rum.
August soon crawled over to Grace, pulled himself up into a standing position and looked her in the eyes.
‘He likes you,’ exclaimed Calypso.
‘He’s a man of fine taste,’ said Frank, smiling at her. Grace had no experience with babies and she looked at him solemnly. ‘Hello August,’ she said.
August threw his head back and laughed at her.
Grace laughed at him. ‘He’s divine.’
‘Talk to me about that at three in the morning,’ said TG wryly.
‘Teeth,’ said Calypso with a sigh.
Grace nodded although she had no idea what she meant. ‘Rum, Grace?’
Grace stopped for a moment and then shook her head. ‘No thanks,’ she smiled. It felt good to be able to say no, she thought.
Calypso shook her head at the rum also and settled back on the chair while August played with the buckles on Grace’s shoes.
‘So let’s get business out of the way and then we can have a good time, yes?’
Grace was impressed with Calypso’s attitude; she had a level of control that Grace was still trying to master.
Frank sat back. ‘You’re on.’
Grace put down her drink. Perhaps she should have had the rum. Some liquid courage would have been good. She felt more nervous pitching in front of Frank than she did to the team at Pajaro.
‘The company I work for, Pajaro, is in trouble. We need a new face and your name was chosen unanimously as we believe you represent the American woman. Not just for your obvious beauty but also because you have your own production company, your films are hits, you have a successful marriage and you have a baby now. You are always honest about how hard that is and you are fun and funny and fabulous. I need to save the company and I truly believe the only way I can do that is by bringing in a new direction for the designs themselves and a new face at Pajaro.’ Grace took a breath. Too much, she wondered.
Calypso sat in thought. ‘What is the new direction? Who is the designer?’
Grace waited for a beat. ‘My sister, Violetta.’
Calypso looked at her closely. ‘Violetta de Santoval? From Socialites in the City?’
Grace looked down at her hands, her cheeks flushed. ‘Yes.’
‘I thought you said your name was Blackwood,’ said Frank, looking at her confused.
‘It’s my mother’s maiden name,’ said Grace. ‘I use it sometimes.’
Frank looked at TG and Calypso, his eyebrows raised.
Calypso clapped her hands and August mimicked her. ‘I love that show. Your sister is the only one worth watching. How funny was it when she went to the mime class! You remember, TG, all the other socialites were at some lame party and she was at some warehouse, learning the art of mime.’
TG laughed. ‘Yeah, I remember. She seems to take the piss out of the show.’
Frank nodded, expressionless.
Calypso leaned forward. ‘I’m really sorry to hear about your mom.’
Grace felt tears well up. No don’t cry, she thought, not here.
‘I might just use your bathroom, if I could?’ Grace said, trying to hide the tears that had escaped.
‘Of course. Down the hall, third door on the left,’ said Calypso, concerned.
*
After she left the room, Frank turned to them. ‘Birdie de Santoval? She is one of the daughters?’
‘Yes, dummy, didn’t she tell you?’ asked Calypso, shutting the door to the room.
‘No, she made out like she was just some marketing person, not the heiress,’ said Frank, his voice angry. ‘She could have told me.’
TG looked at his friend over his glass. ‘Well, you seem to be keeping a mighty big secret from her also.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Calypso, concerned for Grace.
‘He hasn’t told her,’ said TG.
‘He hasn’t?’ asked Calypso. ‘So what does she think you do?’
‘I’m a bike courier.’
‘A bike courier?’ TG fell about laughing and August crawled over to him. ‘A bike courier? Fucking priceless.’
Calypso glared at him. ‘No swearing, Tim. Remember.’
TG still kept laughing.
Grace walked back into the room, having composed herself in the bathroom.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said to the room.
‘It’s fine,’ said Calypso, smiling at her.
Frank looked at her strangely. ‘You OK?’ he asked.
‘Fine,’ she smiled at him.
Calypso gestured for Grace to sit down again. ‘So tell me, what did you have in mind for the campaign, how did you see it?’
Grace took a deep breath. ‘I want to create iconic scenes from classic films with you in them wearing the classics from Pajaro.’
She felt Frank’s eyes on her; he had no clue this was her idea. She hadn’t discussed it with him and she could tell he wasn’t happy but he said nothing, just folded his arms across his chest.
‘And Tim, I would like you to consider filming the shoot and creating a video clip. I want to get a cool band – something undiscovered and on their way up – to create the soundtrack for it. Then the user can go to iTunes, download the song and the track and watch it. It will be interactive and they can click on the item of clothing in the video and then be taken to the Pajaro website, either through their iPhone or their iPad, or just on their own computer.’
‘I fucking love it!’ said Tim excitedly. ‘What do you think, sweetie?’ he asked Calypso.
‘Well, it’s a great idea but I have an eight month old baby. I’m not exactly in great shape,’ she said, looking down at her slim frame.
‘I cannot see any evidence of that in any way and even if it were true then we would dress you accordingly. I want to get Sophie Thomas to style this,’ said Grace cajolingly.
‘I love Sophie!’ cried Calypso. ‘She did a wardrobe overhaul for a friend of mine that changed her life.’ Tim looked at Calypso quizzically. ‘Rose,’ she mouthed, and he nodded.
Calypso sat thinking. ‘How long would you need me for? I am still feeding Augie.’
‘We could work around your schedule,’ said Grace quickly.
‘And could you shoot here, in LA?’
‘Of course,’ said Grace, thinking about the logistics.
Calypso looked at TG who shrugged and smiled at her.
She turned to Frank. ‘Well, Mr Bike Courier, what do you think?’
TG tried unsuccessfully not to laugh. Grace watched the three of them and saw Frank blush.
‘There is nothing wrong with being a courier. We use them all the time, they are very helpful,’ she said in Frank’s defence.
‘Oh, I know,’ said Calypso quickly. ‘It’s just that Frank could be so much more,’ she said cloyingly.
Frank glared at her.
‘Some people take time to get to where they are meant to be,’ Grace said, thinking of Violetta.
‘You are right, it has taken me twenty-seven years to get here,’ said Calypso, smiling at TG and then turning back to Grace. ‘I’ll do it! You’ll need to talk to my manager, Mandy, who can work out all the details and what I will need.’
‘She’s really demanding on set,’ TG said conspiratorially to Grace. ‘She only likes red M&Ms and requires a room filled with tiny wh
ite bunnies, all female.’
Grace looked horrified but then masked her face, took out her Hermes notepad and pen, and started to write down notes.
Calypso threw a grape at him. ‘That it so not true,’ she cried.
August picked the grape up, squashed it between his fingers and then shoved it into his mouth.
‘They have to be male bunnies,’ she said.
The four of them laughed. Grace looked at Frank, who gave her a subtle wink.
‘Thank you,’ she mouthed at him.
And he smiled, putting his hand over his heart.
*
Carlotta sat with Birdie. She found it harder than her sisters to have the one-sided conversation. She and Birdie had never been close and now the silence between them engulfed Carlotta. She walked out into the hallway and saw the friendly nurse who she had been so rude to at the beginning of Birdie’s journey. ‘Excuse me?’ said Carlotta as she walked towards her.
The nurse looked at Carlotta warily. ‘Yes.’
Carlotta stood awkwardly. ‘Um… I’m having trouble talking to my mom,’ she said, and then burst into tears. Why was she crying so much? She hated crying and now she had cried twice in the space of a week.
The nurse took her in her arms and held her. ‘Oh honey, I know, but it’s so important for you and for her. Talk about your day, talk about the new things in your life, talk about the weather or what you like to do when you are here.’
Carlotta pulled away from her. ‘I’m sorry I was so rude when I first met you. I’m not good at things like this.’
The nurse laughed. ‘None of us are, we just do our best. No offence taken.’
Carlotta smiled at the motherly women and walked back into Birdie’s room. She sat for a while and then started to talk, about Chris and Alexia and her riding. As Carlotta spoke, the words came easily and she chatted about them for at least forty minutes. When Spencer came to take over her shift, they spoke in the hallway.