Unlucky Break (3 page)

Andie heard a knock at the door and jumped out of bed. She struggled to pull on her jeans. Then she shoved Gigi under her pillow. No self-respecting eighteen-year-old still had a teddy bear.

‘Come in,’ she said. Should she say come in? It wasn’t her house, was it? God, she felt nervous.
Please don’t cry
, she told herself. She repeated it like a mantra in her head as the door opened.

There stood Cece. Tall, thin, so beautiful it hurt. She looked so much like Andie’s mum before the cancer, when she was well. Andie let out a sob.

Cece rushed forward and pulled Andie into her arms, and Andie realised her aunt was crying too.

‘Oh, sweetie,’ said Cece soothingly in a weird American-Australian accent.

‘I wasn’t going to cry,’ sobbed Andie into her shoulder.

‘I know, me neither,’ said Cece, her voice muffled.

‘I’m sorry,’ Andie said as she pulled back from Cece, feeling awkward and blotchy.

‘Hello,’ said Cece, smiling a little, her hands on either side of Andie’s face. It was an oddly intimate gesture coming from a stranger, but even though Andie hardly knew Cece, she felt somehow familiar to her at the same time.

Andie looked at her aunt. Cece had the same almost jet-black hair and deep blue eyes as Andie and her mother. But Cece’s hair was cut into a perfect, angular bob. Andie’s was long, down to the middle of her back, and in need of a trim.

Looking at Cece’s face gave Andie a stabbing pain in her chest. She was so like her sister. Andie wanted to look away but couldn’t.

I miss you so much, Mum,
she thought.

Cece’s eyes were similarly searching her face. Neither seemed to know what to say.

‘Thank you for the gifts,’ Andie said finally.

Cece gave a small smile and then shrugged as if all the incredible, expensive gifts were unimportant.

They were still standing. Andie wondered if they should sit down. But it seemed rude, or at least weird, to ask someone to sit down in their own house.

Andie bit her lip and looked down. Cece was barefoot.

‘You have my feet,’ said Andie suddenly. ‘I mean, they’re your feet, but they look like mine.’

Cece smiled a strange sort of smile.
She thinks I’m mad,
thought Andie.

‘Anyway, I’m really sorry I cried,’ she said, knowing she was blushing. ‘I think I’m a bit jet-lagged.’

‘And your mum just died,’ said Cece gently, and Andie started to cry again.

Cece led Andie to one of the pink-and-green chairs and sat her down, then sat in the other chair.

‘It’s such an awful way to meet each other again,’ she said, shaking her head.

‘I don’t remember the first time,’ said Andie, and she saw a flash of pain cross Cece’s face.

‘I wish I had known about Marlo,’ sighed Cece. ‘If she had told me she was sick, I might have been able to do something.’

Andie shook her head. ‘I don’t think there was anything anyone could do for her.’

‘Then I might have been able to do something for you,’ said Cece, reaching across and holding Andie’s hand. ‘So that you didn’t have to deal with it all by yourself.’

No rings
, Andie noticed. No nail polish either. She wasn’t as fussy as Andie had imagined.

‘I’m okay,’ said Andie quietly.

Was she okay? She had been asked that so many times since her mum got sick she no longer knew the real answer.

Cece paused and frowned. ‘I just don’t understand why she didn’t tell me she was dying. I wish she’d wanted to say goodbye.’

‘She didn’t think she would die,’ Andie said sadly, a little bitterly. ‘She thought she would beat it, right till the end. That’s why she didn’t make any plans for me.’

Cece smiled ruefully. ‘Sounds like Marlo. You know, I would’ve done
anything
to be a part of your life, Andie. It just … it got really difficult between your mum and me.’

Andie frowned. If she had a sister, she couldn’t imagine letting anything come between them. But the look on Cece’s face told her not to say anything.

‘I know,’ said Andie, not really knowing anything at all.

She had never understood the way normal families worked. It had always been just her and her mum. She had no dad – he was nothing but a one-night stand. She had no grandparents. All she had was this aunt, whose face was known by the whole world, but who was still a stranger to Andie.

‘Do you need anything?’ asked Cece, looking around the elegant room. ‘When you said you’d come, I got the room ready for you but …’ her voice trailed off. ‘I’m not sure what you like. A friend of mine who’s about your age helped me choose the gifts.’

Andie shook her head.
She
didn’t even know what she liked anymore. It had been so long since she’d thought about what she wanted, or since she’d had any money for herself. Everything had been about her mum.

There was a heavy silence between them. Andie was aware of Cece’s eyes on her the whole time. They roamed her face, hungrily taking in every detail.

‘I’m glad you came,’ said Cece in a small voice.

‘I didn’t really have anywhere else to go,’ said Andie with a tired shrug. ‘You were the only one that offered.’

‘What about your friends?’ asked Cece. ‘Didn’t any of them offer to help you?’

Andie thought of Marissa.

‘No,’ she said flatly.

Cece held her hand tightly. ‘Then it’s good you’re here. You know, you can stay for as long as you like. You could even go to college here, if you want.’

‘I don’t know. I can’t really think that far ahead at the moment,’ she said, feeling guilty for seeming so ungrateful in the face of Cece’s generosity.

Cece nodded. ‘Of course.’ She sounded understanding, if a little disappointed. ‘I’m just saying the offer is there.’

‘Thanks.’

‘You hungry?’ Cece asked brightly, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

‘Not really,’ said Andie. The chocolates had settled uneasily in her empty stomach, making her feel queasy.

Andie had often felt sick in the last few months. She hadn’t been eating much because of it. Marissa had finally talked her into seeing a doctor.
A stomach migraine
, the doctor had told her.
You’re not processing the stress. Do you want to see a psychologist?
he’d asked.

Andie had told him no and then never went back. She would work this out by herself. Like she did with everything else.

‘Are you still tired? Maybe I should leave you to sleep?’ Cece was saying.

‘Thanks,’ said Andie, nodding.

Cece stood up. ‘I have to shoot tomorrow, but we can do dinner tomorrow night?’

Andie smiled a little. ‘That would be nice.’

It wasn’t like she had any other plans. No plans, no parents, no boyfriend, no friends.

Cece walked to the door. ‘Oh, do you have your driver’s licence?’ she asked over her shoulder as she opened the door.

‘Yes,’ said Andie.

‘Great,’ smiled Cece. ‘I bought you a car. Rene can help you get used to it tomorrow.’

‘Oh,’ said Andie, which seemed incredibly insufficient. She’d never had her own car before. She mustered up more enthusiasm. ‘Thank you so much,’ she said, genuinely meaning it.

Cece smiled warmly. ‘My pleasure.’ She raised her hand in a little wave. ‘Night, Andie.’

‘Goodnight, Cece.’

Somehow Andie got through the night. She woke sometime the next morning and pulled on the fluffy white robe she’d found hanging in her wardrobe, then wandered downstairs in bare feet.

Marta was polishing an already shiny table. ‘Morning, Miss Andie,’ she beamed.

‘Just Andie,’ Andie corrected, smiling at the woman. ‘Good morning.’

‘Did you sleep okay?’

Andie thought about her night. Two-hour intervals of sleep, then lying awake, worrying and listening for Mum calling, even though Andie knew she wouldn’t ever call out again. She wished the memories would stop.

‘Fine, thanks.’

‘What can I get you for breakfast, Miss Andie?’

‘I’m not hungry, thanks,’ she said.

Marta looked horrified. ‘You have to eat! You are too thin, like Miss Cece.’

‘Really, I’m fine,’ Andie insisted, but she could already tell that Marta was going to win, so she gave in and followed her through to the kitchen.

‘Woah, this kitchen is crazy!’ said Andie, looking around the huge space. The benches were white marble, and a chandelier hung from the high ceiling.

‘It’s a very good kitchen, yes,’ said Marta proudly. ‘Now, what can I make you? French toast? Waffles? Eggs?’

‘Maybe some fruit?’ asked Andie. ‘And yoghurt, if you have it.’

She saw the disappointment on Marta’s face, but the woman recovered quickly, busying herself with Andie’s breakfast. She soon produced an amazing bowl of fresh berries and apple, topped with a creamy Greek yoghurt and sprinkled with toasted nuts.

It was Andie’s perfect breakfast and, despite seriously not being that hungry, she ate every last bit of it.

Marta carefully took the bowl from Andie and said, ‘Miss Cece left some keys in the study for your car. You want me to get them for you?’

‘That’s okay. I can get them, thanks,’ said Andie. She walked to the door and then stopped. ‘Where is the study?’

‘Down the hallway, third door on the left. You want me to show you?’ Marta wiped her hands on her apron.

‘No, I’m fine. Thanks again for brekky,’ said Andie.

Andie wandered down the hallway, opening doors as she went. The house was amazing. There was a full gym with a lap pool visible outside. A cinema room with an old-fashioned popcorn cart in the corner. A library with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. The books were shelved by colour, turning the room into a rainbow.

Such a huge house for one person,
thought Andie. She wondered why Cece needed such a massive house when she didn’t have any children or a boyfriend, or even a dog.

She opened the third door on the left. It was a gorgeous room, the sort of room her mum would have loved. French windows opened onto a wisteria-covered terrace. There was a large antique wooden desk with a green leather blotter on top. Shelves of books lined the walls, and a neat pile of scripts sat on a table beside a leather armchair in the corner. Cece’s three Oscars sat on a shelf, the one in the middle wearing a Barbie doll’s stack hat.

Andie picked it up and read the inscription.

Best Actress in a Motion Picture
Cece Powers for
The Serialist

Andie imagined what it would be like to receive an Oscar, maybe for her writing. Would she cry? Would she laugh? Would she give a great speech, like the eulogy she’d given at the funeral?

Everyone said she had spoken beautifully, even Cameron. She’d made it funny and kind, ignoring the last few weeks when Mum went half-mad on the painkillers. When she’d said things she surely didn’t mean.

Andie placed the Oscar back on the shelf and opened one of the scripts beside the armchair. It was covered with handwritten notes. She sat in the chair and started to read them. They were smart and incisive.

Cece was clever, Andie realised with surprise. She felt bad for assuming her aunt was just another Hollywood airhead. Closing the script, she put it carefully back on the little table and went to the desk, where there was a note addressed to her.

Andie,

The keys are inside the top drawer. If you don’t feel comfortable driving on the other side of the road, call Rene. He’ll take you anywhere you like. There’s a credit card and some cash in your purse. Let me know if you need anything else. My number is in your phone. Call me anytime. I’m filming so I might not answer straight away, but I’ll call you back as soon as I can.

Have fun!

CC

Rene’s number was written at the bottom of the note. Andie stuffed it into her pocket.

She was torn. Part of her was excited to have her very own car, but there was also the same guilt she’d felt yesterday about the computer. Her mother had never been able to get her a car, and yet Cece had just nipped out and bought one for Andie. It didn’t seem fair.

But then again, what else was she going to do in LA? Sit in the house all day waiting for Cece to get home from work?

Taking the key out of the drawer, she ran upstairs, showered and put on her jeans. She pulled a T-shirt over her head and looked in the mirror. It was the ‘No Planet B’ T-shirt that Cameron had given her. She pulled the T-shirt off and threw it in the wastepaper basket like the toxic waste that it was. She rummaged through her luggage for another top, and held up a T-shirt with ‘Meat is Murder’ emblazoned across the front.

Jesus! Did she have any clothes that didn’t remind her of Cameron? She went through her suitcase again, pulling out a striped T-shirt that Marissa had given her. She threw that in the bin too.

At last she found a vintage pink chiffon shirt with red polka-dots. It was one of her favourite op-shop finds, even though it had a small rip under one arm.

No more Cameron or Marissa in my life
, Andie vowed, putting the top on. No more thoughts of them, none of their clothes and nothing else that reminded her of them.

Andie pulled on her Doc Martens and ran down the stairs two at a time. She opened the front door and walked outside, looking around for the garage. She stopped, shading her eyes against the sunlight. There were ivy-covered brick walls on either side of the house, but no garage. She slowly did a lap of the whole house, and then walked back inside, looking for Marta.