Bella (4 page)
She picked up the paper, glanced at the gossip page to see if she or Rupert were mentioned, then turned to the personal column – villas in the South of France, ranch minks, hardly worn, costing £3,000. If I marry Rupert, she thought, they’d be within my grasp.
And then she saw the advertisement, in bold type, edged with black, and went cold with horror.
‘Mabel, where are you? I’ve looked for you everywhere. I’ll be waiting at the bar of the Hilton at seven o’clock. Steve.’
Suddenly, her heart was pounding, her hands clammy.
It must be a mistake. Lots of people communicated through the personal column – gangs of criminals, lost friends. It was a fluke. It couldn’t concern her.
But all day long she couldn’t get the thought of it out of her mind.
Next day, when she picked up the paper, she tried not to turn immediately to the personal column. But there was another advertisement, burning a hole in the page.
‘Mabel, where are you? Why did you leave Nalesworth? Please come to the Hilton bar at seven o’clock tonight. Steve.’
Oh God! thought Bella, giving a whimper of horror. A feeling of nausea overwhelmed her.
On Wednesday, after a sleepless night, she found another message waiting for her.
‘Mabel, where are you? I waited on Monday. Perhaps you can’t get to London? Cable me at the Hilton. I shall wait for you. Steve.’
She was sweating with fear. After all these years, Steve was in London, had come back to claim her. The one man in the world who could rock the boat and bring down the precarious fabrication of lies and falsehoods that was Bella Parkinson.
Chapter Four
On the morning of her birthday Bella was woken by the sun streaming through the window. For a moment she stretched luxuriously – then the sick feeling of menace overwhelmed her as she remembered Steve was trying to get in touch with her.
She jumped violently when the doorbell rang, but it was only the postman with a pile of letters and a registered parcel to be signed for. The newspaper was lying on the doormat. Willing herself not to look at it, Bella opened the parcel and gave a shriek of excitement. A pearl necklace was glittering inside. She put it on and rushed to the mirror. Even against a setting of mascara, smudged eyes and tousled hair, it looked beautiful.
‘There is nothing to say except I love you,’ Rupert had written in the accompanying letter. Bella gave a sigh of happiness. It was as if someone had pulled her in out of the cold and wrapped her in a mink coat.
There were cards from the rest of the cast, and more bills. There were far too many of those crowding in lately.
The telephone rang. It was Barney, her agent.
‘Happy Birthday, darling. Do you feel frightfully old?’
‘Yes,’ said Bella.
‘I’ll buy you lunch next week. We can’t go on not meeting like this,’ said Barney.
Bella laughed. Barney always cheered her up.
‘Harry Backhaus is in London casting for Anna Karenina,’ he said, in his nasal cockney drawl. ‘He saw you on the box last week and wants to audition you this evening.’
‘But I can’t,’ wailed Bella. ‘Not tonight. I’m meeting Rupert’s family.’
‘I know, sweetheart. As if you’d let me forget it. I’ve arranged for you to see Harry beforehand – at six. He’s staying at the Hyde Park. Ask for his suite at the desk. He likes birds, so be yourself. You know, sexy but refined. And don’t be late.’
Bella was elated. She’d worshipped Harry Backhaus for years. She rifled through her wardrobe for something to wear, but found nothing sexy enough. She’d have to go out and buy yet another dress. Afterwards she would come back and change into the discreet but ludicrously expensive black midi dress she’d bought for meeting Rupert’s parents.
The telephone rang again. This time it was Rupert wishing her a happy birthday. She thanked him ecstatically for the necklace, then told him about the audition.
‘I don’t know who I’m more frightened of – Harry Backhaus or your parents.’
‘It won’t be just them,’ said Rupert. ‘Gay, my sister, will be there with Teddy, her fiancé.’
‘What’s he like?’
‘He’s in the Brigade. If you take away his long umbrella he falls over. His chin goes straight down into his stiff collar. Gay used to be an ally. Now all she can talk about is curtain material. I say, you’ll never guess.’
‘What?’
‘She’s pregnant.’
‘My God! When did she find out?’
‘Well, she only told me yesterday, so she’ll have to carry a very big bouquet.’
‘Was your mother livid?’
‘Doesn’t know. My father was very good. He walked once round the drawing-room then said, “Never mind, you always get a few shots fired before the 12th of August.”’
Bella giggled.
‘And as well as my pregnant sister,’ Rupert went on, ‘you’re finally going to meet my glamorous cousin, Lazlo, and you’re to promise not to fall for him; and his sister Chrissie’s coming too. She’s sweet. So there’ll be some young people – as my mother calls them – for you to play with, darling.’
Dear Rupert, thought Bella fondly, as she put down the receiver. He loved her so much, Steve really couldn’t hurt her any more. Casually, she picked up the paper. She must have been imagining things before.
But there it was – the first advertisement that caught her eyes when she turned to the personal column.
‘Mabel, where are you? Why didn’t you turn up at the Hilton? I shall wait again tonight. Steve.’
She felt a lurch of fear as a huge black cloud moved over the sun of her happiness.
She spent the rest of the day in a frenzy of activity – shopping and at the hairdresser. Anything not to think about Steve. She squandered a fortune on new make-up, a pair of impossibly tight blue jeans and a white frilly blouse that plunged to the waist. She also had her hair set in a wildly dishevelled style that made her look as though she’d just crawled out of bed.
She arrived twenty minutes late for the audition. Harry Backhaus turned out to be a lean, dyspeptic American who sucked peppermints all the time. He had been ruined, he said, by lunch at what was supposed to be the best restaurant in London.
‘So you wanna play Anna, eh?’ he said.
‘I’d like to.’
‘Know the book?’
‘Adore it. I’ve read it over and over again.’
‘So you’ve got all kinds of preconceived notions how the part should be played?’
‘I could be talked out of them.’
‘I picture Anna as dark. You’d have to dye your hair. You’d have to diet, too. And the boy we’ve got lined up for Vronsky is a good three inches shorter than you.’
Finally he said, ‘We’ll be in touch. Thanks for coming along.’
A beautiful tiny brunette was waiting to go in as she came out.
‘Harry, darling! It’s been too long!’ Bella heard her say as she shut the door behind her.
Bella looked at her watch. It was twenty to seven. Enough time to go home and change before dinner. But she didn’t go home. Across the Park she could see the Hilton gleaming like a liner at sea. Her flat was in the opposite direction but, as though mesmerized, she began walking towards the hotel.
You’re mad, she kept telling herself. You’re walking straight into a torture chamber. In five minutes you’ll undo all the good of the last five years.
Just go and have a quick drink, said another voice inside her. See if it really is Steve and come away. Once you’ve seen him it’ll break the spell.
Outside the hotel, to gain time, she bought some flowers for Rupert’s mother.
Her heart was thudding like a tom-tom. Her hands were clammy as she went through the swing doors of the hotel.
The bar was very crowded. People turned to stare at her. Why couldn’t she stop trembling? A tall, fair man who looked like a pig was giving her the glad eye. Surely he couldn’t be Steve?
‘Hullo, darling,’ said a soft voice with an American accent in her ear.
She jumped like a startled horse and swung round. Her mouth was dry. The bottom seemed to fall out of her stomach as she looked into the bluest, most wicked eyes in the world.
‘Oh, baby,’ he said, taking her hands. ‘It’s so good to see you.’
‘Hullo, Steve,’ she croaked.
‘You made it. You really showed up. I can’t believe it. Come and sit down.’
Bella felt the years melt away. She was eighteen again.
‘We ought to celebrate by drinking that filthy sparkling hock which I always pretended to you was champagne.’
‘I’d like some whisky,’ said Bella stiffly.
‘Two double Scotches,’ Steve told the waiter.
He got out a packet of cigarettes and, as he lit hers, their fingers touched.
‘Oh, honey,’ he said. ‘You’ve grown so beautiful. Look at me properly.’
With a great effort she raised her eyes to his. How insane she’d been to think he’d have gone off. If anything he was better looking – more seasoned. He’d lost his peachy, open, golden-boy look. There were lines now, fanning out at the corners of his eyes, and his hair was brushed forward in a thick, blond fringe to cover lines that might have developed on his forehead.
She lowered her eyes.
‘I’ve looked for you everywhere,’ he went on, as their drinks arrived. ‘I wrote to Nalesworth over and over again, but they sent my letters back saying you’d gone away like a fox. I even went there to see if anyone had any news of you. Advertising in the personal columns was my last hope. What are you doing now – modelling?’
‘I’m an actress.’ She couldn’t keep the pride out of her voice as she told him how well she’d done.
Steve whistled. ‘You have gone places.’
‘And I’ve just had an audition with Harry Backhaus for the lead in his new film.’
Lay it on thick, she thought. Damn you, Steve. I can get along without you.
‘Darling, you’re a star! I must come and see the play. What name do you act under? Surely not Mabel Figge?’
‘No,’ said Bella in a strangled voice. ‘I . . . I changed my name to Bella Parkinson.’
She noticed that he was wearing a very well-cut suit and heavy gold cuff-links.
‘You’ve made good too, Steve.’
He grinned. ‘Can’t complain. I’ve got a couple of clubs in Buenos Aires. One of the reasons I’m over here – apart from finding you, of course – is to find a site for a disco in London.’
He signalled to the waiter. ‘Let’s have another drink.’
‘Not for me,’ she said. ‘I can’t stay.’
But she didn’t move, and when the drinks came he raised his glass to her. ‘To us, baby.’
‘There isn’t going to be any “us”!’ she snapped. ‘I’ve got someone else.’
‘Did have, you mean. Who is he?’
Again the temptation to brag was too much.
‘You won’t know him. He’s called Rupert Henriques.’
Steve raised his eyebrows. ‘Not the banking family?’
Bella nodded defiantly.
‘Oh, sweetheart, you
are
piling yourself up riches on earth.’
are
piling yourself up riches on earth.’
‘You know him?’
‘I’ve run across his cousin, Lazlo, in Buenos Aires.’
‘Everyone seems to know him. Rupert adores him. What’s he like?’
‘Ruthless, rather sinister. A strange mixture. Half Jewish – his mother is some Austrian opera singer. The City don’t know what to make of him. They don’t approve of his long hair and all that scent he wears. But they have to admit he pulls off deals with a panache no-one else can equal. He’s got the kind of steel nerves that buys when the market’s down. And he owns some pretty good horses.’
‘Why isn’t he married?’
‘Doesn’t believe in it. I think he got very badly burnt over some married woman several years ago. Always has the most fantastic birds, though.’
There was a pause. Then Steve went on, ‘But it’s Rupert you’re keen on?’
‘Yes I am,’ said Bella quickly.
‘Then why did you come here today?’
‘I wanted to lay a ghost. Steve, I must go.’
How idiotic those monosyllables sounded. She had to go home, change and go out to dinner with the Henriques, but she couldn’t move.
‘Darling,’ Steve said softly, ‘I know I behaved like a heel, walking out on you when you most needed me. But I owed bread everywhere. I’d have been arrested if I’d stayed in Nalesworth any longer.’
‘And what about all those other girls every night?’ Impossible to keep the shrill hostility out of her voice.
‘I was too young to be tied down. I’ve grown up since then. I wouldn’t cheat on you now, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
But she was only conscious of his big, sexy body lounging beside her, and the fact that she wanted him as she’d never wanted anyone else.
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