101 Pieces of Me (18 page)

I looked at him, stricken. “Public appearances! What does that mean?”

“Well…” He finished his toast and began to collect the pages. “Attending the premiere, for a start.”

“But I have no intention of attending the premiere! I never want to see David again. And how can I face anyone else who worked on the picture? Jeanette, and Robert, and … oh God,
Simona
! I wish the whole film could be destroyed and thrown in the rubbish bin!”

Aidan’s face looked thin and hungry, and his eyes narrowed. “You cannot mean that. And anyway, you have no choice. If David’s wife cites you as the object of his ‘adultery’, it will be all over the newspapers. The story has everything they adore: money, sex, beautiful people and just the right touch of sleaziness to titillate the masses. It will be the biggest scandal of the year. The public will flock to see
Innocence
so they can nudge each other when you appear on screen and feel superior to this woman of no morals who will sleep with someone else’s husband. You will be mobbed at the premiere. And your future career as an actress will be assured.”

I was horrified. David knew the scandal would help publicize the film. His betrayal had wounded me deeply, but this was worse. He was prepared to sacrifice an ignorant girl at the altar of greed so that he and his money men would be welcome in America. Unlike me, he could leave behind everything he no longer wished to be associated with: Clara Hope, the divorce, the scandal … and his wife.

His wife. Who was she? How long had they been married? Why did they wish to divorce? Did she know about me? Had I actually seen, or even meet her, among those bejewelled butterflies who fluttered around David with their flat chests and flat hair and kohl-rimmed eyes?

“Oh, Aidan.” I folded my arms on the table and put my head on them. “I wish I were dead!”

“No, you don’t.” He hauled me to my feet. “Come on, a breath of fresh air will do you good.”

A
n insistent March wind blew as we crossed Bayswater Road and entered Hyde Park. We walked necessarily briskly, I with my gloved hands tucked into my coat sleeves, Aidan with his hands in his pockets, both of us with hats pulled down over our foreheads.

The trees along the edge of the park were bare. The sky was white, brightening occasionally, but holding the threat of rain. It reflected my gloomy mood. We walked in silence for a long time, my mind busy. My usual strategy of pretending to be someone else failed me; I thought only of my folly and its consequences. Aidan had been kind, but I could not expect further help from him. And whatever happened, I would have to leave 23 Raleigh Court as soon as possible. Unmarried women did not stay with unmarried men, even under ordinary circumstances. With the threat of public scandal hanging over me, it would be another piece of dirt the press could dig up on me. And, unforgivably, on Aidan.

Horrified by this thought, I must have gasped, because Aidan slowed his pace. “Am I going too fast? Sorry.”

We had come to a bench, so we sat down. I put my chin into the collar of my coat so that he wouldn’t see my agitation. “Aidan,” I began, “I have decided what to do.”

“Hah! Doesn’t involve murder, does it?”

“No, it involves some sensible behaviour, for a change.”

Grimacing, he took out his cigarettes. “Good God, sensible behaviour? How tedious!” He tapped a cigarette on the packet, but didn’t light it. “So what is it?”

“I can’t stay at Raleigh Court any longer. You can’t know how grateful I am to you for putting me up, but tomorrow I’ll be on my way.”

He frowned, the unlit cigarette still between his fingers. “May I ask where you intend to go?”

“Well, David gave me five pounds, and I’ve got money in the bank and in a trust my father opened for me, so I’ll look for a room to rent. David Penn Productions are still paying me, so I’ll be all right.”

“I see. And what will you do?”

“What I should have done in the first place. Go to the police.”

H
e lit the cigarette and smoked absently, his eyes on the faraway trees. I waited for a few moments, but he did not speak. Feeling uncomfortable, I busied myself adjusting the angle of my hat.

“Clara, listen to me,” he said at last. “I insist that you and I rub along at Raleigh Court for as long as necessary. This is not your Welsh valley, this is Bayswater.” He considered. “Well, the edge of Maida Vale actually, so that’s even better. No one gives a damn who an actor has in his flat.”

“But when this … this story gets into the newspapers,” I protested, “imagine what they’ll write about us!”

Aidan looked amused. “‘Leading Man and Leading Lady in Love Nest!’ It even alliterates!”

“Please, I’m serious.”

“I know you are, but so am I.” He had stopped smiling and his eyes had got narrow and flinty. “The story, as you call it, may never even get into the newspapers.”

“Exactly!” I was relieved that he had understood. “That’s why I’m going to the police! I know they won’t believe my word against David’s, but at least I’ll have done the right thing, won’t I?”

“Whether they believe you or not, there is no point whatsoever in going to the police,” he said, not condescendingly but merely as a matter of fact. “Their job is to solve crime, and I’m sorry to have to tell you that in this instance no crime has been committed.”

I was nonplussed. “But the man was hiding in the bathroom!”

“Had he broken into the bathroom through the window?”

“No, of course not. David had let him in.”

“And did David attack you, or threaten you with a weapon?”

“No, but he—”

“Pushed you down on the bed, pinned your arms behind you and kissed you passionately?”

“No! Well, that may be what it looked like, but…” Dismay swept over me. “Oh.”

Aidan spoke gently. “The private detective who took the photographs, and who, incidentally, is without doubt well known to the Brighton police, was simply doing his job. David paid him, quite legitimately, to provide evidence in a divorce case. What is
really
between the two people in the photographs is of no interest to the detective, the police, the lawyers, the judge or anyone else. Evidence is the only thing that counts in law.”

“But … even if the photographs enable David to get his divorce, surely they will ruin
his
reputation too? He is in them, after all, half naked on a bed with a girl!”

Aidan moved a little nearer to me. “Clara, this is how it works. In cases such as these, the girl is condemned as a scarlet woman, but for the man, especially a man like David, the whole thing merely adds to his glamour. It’s a phenomenon of civilized life that you may have heard of. It’s known as the double standard.”

I looked dejectedly at the muddy lawn that spread before us. It reminded me of the fallow fields around Haverth. But thinking of Haverth hurt my heart. “So there is nothing I can do. David will get away with it, and I will be ruined.”

“Not necessarily.” Aidan dropped his cigarette stub and ground it out with his toe. “When I said the divorce case might never come to court, it was because we might be able to stop it. Don’t laugh, but I think I’ve got an idea.”

A
idan’s shoulders looked high and tense. His fingers drummed the bench between us. He was looking at me with his actor’s face – eyes alight, forehead a little puckered, mouth slightly open, as if he were about to kiss the heroine. “You see, the photographs will be sent to David’s wife, who will give them to her lawyer. After that it’ll be months before the case comes up. We’ve got time to do something.”

I was dubious. “Aidan…”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to get your hopes up, then disappoint you. By the way, did I tell you I’ve got a part in a new picture?”

“No, you didn’t. And what about your idea?”

“I’m telling you about it. When I’ve finished this picture, I thinking I might jack acting in and do something else.”

I was surprised. “But you’re really good!” I said truthfully.

“Well, thank you for that.” He smiled one of his I’m-not-really-smiling smiles. “I had no idea you even noticed my acting.”

He was right; I had considered him a nuisance and treated him with impatience. I had taken my cue from David, whose contempt for Aidan was obvious from the first day. Aidan’s behaviour, on and off the set, had automatically irritated me because it irritated David. I had fed my own vanity by assuming Aidan was jealous of David, without bothering to wonder if there might be some other reason for the friction between the two men.

I was embarrassed. Aidan was still the man I knew, with his actorish gestures and affected phrases, who smoked and drank too much, but since I had descended upon his flat he had conducted himself impeccably. “Um … I notice lots of things,” I said weakly.

He put his hands in his pockets and looked at me sheepishly. “You see, I’d rather be a photographer. That’s what I’m really interested in. I like to think I’m pretty good at it.” He smiled thinly. “And David isn’t the only person in the world who can set up photographs that are not quite what they seem.”

I felt suddenly anxious. “What do you mean? No, I know what you mean. You are going to get photographs of David in a compromising situation with a young girl, aren’t you? But how will that be of any use? What about the double standard?”

“You are quite right. But the photographs I am going to get will not involve David and a girl. They will show him with something else entirely.”

I did not feel any less anxious. “This isn’t going to involve anything fishy, is it?”

“Fishy?”
His voice was low, but I heard the anticipation, and, strangely enough, a note of compassion in it. “Clara, listen. Have you ever heard of something called cocaine?”

My voice came out very small. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Thought not.” Aidan stood up suddenly and pulled down the brim of his hat. “Look, can we walk a bit? I’m getting cold.”

W
e set off in the direction of Park Lane. “Don’t alarm yourself,” he said, “but cocaine is a drug made from the coca tree, found in South America. It’s not used for medicinal purposes, though. People – rich people, as it’s very expensive – use it to make themselves feel good.”

I was not alarmed, but interested. “Like wine and cigarettes?”