Swan (27 page)

‘Of course I trust him. Pani’s got as much to lose
as me if the truth ever came out.’ Chet lapsed into a brooding silence.

I traced invisible shapes on his chest with my
fingers. ‘Have you thought about what you’ll tell people when you do decide to
come back from the dead?’

A broad smile crossed his face. ‘I’ve given that a
lot of thought too. I was thinking maybe I’d say that I lost my memory. That
I’ve been living on a desert island all this time, waiting for it all to come
back to me.’

‘Do you think the media will buy that?’

‘Wouldn’t you?’

I shook my head. ‘No, I wouldn’t. It doesn’t sound
believable.’

‘Well, what do you suggest?’ There was a note of
irritation in his voice.

‘I don’t know,’ I said gently, ‘it’s difficult to
say cos I’ve never been in that situation. Have you and Pani thought about the
legal implications of faking your own death? I mean, surely you must have
broken some kind of law by withholding the truth from the public?’ I cast my
mind back to a similar case I’d read a few years back about a man who had faked
his own death to cash in on a life insurance policy. When his scheme had
inevitably unravelled he’d been sentenced to seven years in prison. My heart
suddenly grew fearful for Chet.

‘Then again,’ I continued brightly, ‘I suppose there
was no money involved, so technically, you wouldn’t be in all that much
trouble. And of course, it happened in Sardinia, so it would depend on what the
laws are there.’

‘Of course there’s money involved!’ Chet snapped,
pulling away from me. ‘I have at least three sponsorship deals - Pepsi, Martini
and Omega. Then there’s the two movies my agent signed me up for in the fall.
Believe me Madeline, there was a hell of a lot at stake when I decided to go
through with this. A lot of people are gonna be baying for my blood if I ever
do make a come-back. And yes, it’s stressing me out no end, so I don’t need you
to remind me, okay? Damn! I thought you were supposed to be lightening my
mood.’

I was shocked by the anger in his voice. Terrified
I’d upset him, I desperately tried to back track. ‘Forgive me darling, I didn’t
mean it to come across as a lecture. It’s just ... I care so much about you, I
only want to help you find a solution, that’s all.’

He smiled and drew me back into his arms. ‘I know,
baby, I know. And in a way, maybe it’s good we’re speaking about this now.’

I paused, thinking. ‘I know! Why don’t you say you
had a nervous breakdown and needed to take some time out? That way, you’d be
partly telling the truth, and at the same time diminish responsibility for your
actions. You could say you went travelling, stayed in a monastery ...’

Chet chuckled. ‘That’s pretty good. See, I told you
you’re gonna be a terrific scriptwriter.’

‘Are you taking the piss?’

‘It’s a good idea, but kind of similar to my desert
island story.’

‘No it isn’t,’ I snorted indignantly. ‘My story is
more plausible because it doesn’t involve pretending you’ve lost your memory. I
mean, come on! That’s so corny, Chet. At least my idea has a ring of truth to
it.’

He stroked my hair affectionately. ‘Okay, okay, you
win. Your idea is better. Thank you.’ He paused. ‘But the truth is, if I’m
being honest, I didn’t really think any of this through properly. It did it to
see if I could get away with it, but, well, I guess we took the gag too far.
Pani still wants to go all the way to the Oscars with this, but I’m not sure I
can hold out that long.’

‘Do you really think you’ll win Best Actor?’

‘I don’t know. And to be honest, I don’t care any
more. I’ve got bigger things to worry about. Like raising myself from the
dead.’

There was a second-long silence.

‘Can I ask you something, Chet?’

‘Sure.’

‘You know those earrings you bought for me ...’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Well, er, they’re not real diamonds are they?’

He didn’t miss a beat. ‘I can’t believe you’d even
ask me that. Of course they are. They’re antiques worth in the region of, oh
let me see ... a million dollars.’

‘What! Oh my God, you’re kidding me?’

‘That’s right - a million dollars.’

‘No way! So that time I dropped one in the salsa bar
... oh God, no wonder you were so frantic!’ I laughed maniacally. ‘A million
dollars ... a million dollars. I can’t believe it.’

‘Believe it baby. You’re worth it.’

I almost fainted from shock.

* * *

Later that evening Chet told me he had booked us a
table at a jazz club in Covent Garden. Stretching my arms out luxuriously, I
propped myself up on the pillows and watched Chet’s naked form in the gathering
twilight, as he moved around the bedroom like he was playing blind man’s buff
or something. He got to my wardrobe, opened it and began sifting through my
clothes.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m just looking through your dresses to see what
you can wear out tonight.’

I smiled tremulously. I thought it was really sweet
of him to be taking such an interest. I was also very curious to know what he’d
pick out.

‘Ah ... this one’s just right.’

I craned my neck. ‘Which one is it? Let me see, let
me see!’

‘Ta-da!’ Chet turned round and held up a beautiful
black vintage dress that I’d never seen before. It was made out of a tight,
lacy material and had a fitted ‘50s style waist.

‘Oh my gosh!’ I gasped. ‘It’s absolutely gorgeous, Chet.
But I don’t understand, where did you ...?’

‘Told you I like to surprise you,’ he grinned. ‘Come
on, try it. I want to see how it looks on you.’

Excitedly, I clambered out of bed and switched on
the bedside lamp to cast more light in the room. Chet drew me towards him and
proceeded to dress me. He put my arms in the sleeves, zipped me up at the back,
fastened the belt, and then turned me round to face the wardrobe mirror. He put
his head over my shoulder as we both studied our reflection. His face was
ridiculously gorgeous.

‘You look good enough to eat,’ he growled.

‘I love it, Chet. But how did you know which size to
get? I mean, this fits me like a glove.’

‘Don’t you think I know every inch of you?’ he
whispered seductively. Slowly, he traced the contours of my breasts through the
material with his fingers. Licked my ear, kissed my neck.

A shiver ran through me.

Chet released his grip. ‘All right, lets get this
party started!’ He picked up his box of David disguises and disappeared into
the bathroom to get ready. I sat on the edge of the bed deliberating how to
wear my hair tonight. Probably up, I decided, as it would go better with the
‘50s glamour of the dress.

About an hour later, Chet emerged from the bathroom
as David Powell. It was so surreal seeing him again, like meeting an old
friend. I kept shaking my head, trying to come to terms with how incredible
this situation was.

‘Do you like me better as Chet or David?’ he asked
quietly.

I smiled up at him from the bed. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Come on, you must have a preference.’

I didn’t answer. It was the first time I’d ever
really given it much thought. To be honest, I didn’t know what answer to give.
In a way, I loved them both equally.

Chet glanced at his watch. ‘I’ve booked our table
for eight o’clock so we’d better start going.’

It felt strange walking arm in arm with him along
Poplar Docks towards the Tube station. A weird mixture of excitement and
apprehension. I was so paranoid, so scared that everyone we passed in the
street could see through Chet’s disguise. That they could see I had a date with
the world’s most famous dead movie star. I said as much to Chet, but he just
laughed it off with a shrug. He said he liked the danger. Liked the fact that
we had this big secret that no one else was in on.

Things grew even more bizarre when we got on the
Tube. Sitting next to each other holding hands, I couldn’t help but gaze round
at all the other passengers, wondering what their reactions would be if they
knew who they were sharing a carriage with. It was almost too exciting for
words.

We got to Covent Garden at quarter to eight. It had
rained while we had been underground. When we resurfaced the air had a cool
chill to it. The jazz club was a five-minute walk from Covent Garden station,
located down one of the busy side streets.

Chet said he loved the West End at night because it
gave him a buzz, made him feel like he was part of something, part of a
nocturnal tribe of Londoners.

The club was called Lucio’s and had a small,
inconspicuous entrance sandwiched between Oasis and an expensive looking watch
shop. We walked down a flight of stairs, crossed through a deeply carpeted
foyer and entered a stylish club area. The place was moderately busy. By the
far end of the room was a small stage where a jazz band was playing a sultry
version of Dave Brubeck’s
Take Five
.

A smartly dressed waiter greeted us and showed us to
a table near the stage. After he’d taken our coats, Chet ordered drinks. Wine
for me, a martini for him.

‘This place looks really nice,’ I said, glancing
round. ‘How do you always find such nice places to take me?’

‘I Googled it under “great places to take Madeline
Smith.”’

I laughed, tucked a stray hair behind my ear. Looked
towards the stage. ‘This music’s really good. You won’t believe this, but I’ve
never been anywhere that plays live music before.’

‘What, not even a concert?’

‘No. This is so exciting for me.’

‘Do you like jazz music?’

‘Oh yes, I love it. Louis Armstrong, Ella
Fitzgerald. All the greats.’

A brief smile crossed Chet’s lips. Then he reached
across the table, put his strong, clean hands over mine. Inwardly I was jumping
up and down for joy.

‘Happy?’ he asked.

‘Ecstatically, darling.’ I smiled shyly, looked away
from him.

‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Sure.’

‘Am I everything you dreamed I would be? I mean, I
haven’t disappointed you, have I?’

‘No, no of course not Bre – sorry, I mean
David. You have no idea how much I ...’ I broke off. Words couldn’t quite
express the magnitude of my feelings.

‘I understand,’ he grinned, patting my hand
reassuringly. Then he shot me a seductive sideways glance. ‘By the way, I love
the way you wear that body.’

I blushed, giggled appreciatively. I found the
intensity of his stare a little hard to bear. It was like I wanted him all over
again.

The waiter returned and set our drinks down on the
table. Chet took a couple of sips of his Martini. Then he smiled broadly, as if
remembering a private joke. ‘So Madeline, were you really serious when you said
that
Jane Bloggs
hasn’t progressed
beyond synopsis stage?’

I nodded eagerly. ‘It’s been dreadful. I’ve had such
terrible writer’s block.’

‘I reckon it’d make a pretty good film. It’s got
potential. It’s different.’ His eyes suddenly lit up. ‘Okay, let’s say you had
a budget of, say, fifty million. Who would you cast in the leads?’

I thought about this for a minute. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Imagine you’ve got access to any actress in
Hollywood. Who would you cast as Jane?’

‘That’s a really tricky one. I don’t think there’s
any actress fat enough to play her. It would probably have to be an unknown
actress. Someone new. I mean, Jane doesn’t exactly fit the stereotype, does
she?’

‘I suppose not.’

‘My favourite actress is Meryl Streep. I think she’s
amazing. She has such range, such diversity. But of course, she couldn’t play
Jane.’

‘Unless she puts on a fat suit.’

We both laughed.

Chet sipped his drink thoughtfully. ‘Okay, so what
about the male lead - the boyfriend who dumps her. Which actor would you choose?’

I didn’t miss a beat. ‘You, of course.’

Chet’s smile broadened. ‘That’s very flattering
Madeline, but I don’t think I’d be right for the role. I’m too old. No, I’d
probably be happier directing and producing it.’ His tone became more serious,
more business-like. ‘The reason I ask is because I am seriously considering
making
Jane Bloggs
into a movie.’

‘What? Oh my God, do you really mean it?’

‘Sure. Like I said, I think it’s got great
potential. I mean obviously, I’d have to see an actual draft of the script, but
I would be willing to give it my financial backing.’

I was struck dumb. Shook my head incredulously.
‘This feels so unreal, so amazing. You don’t know how much it means to me.’

Chet nodded. ‘Hopefully, this will give you some
incentive to start writing again. Get you through that writer’s block of
yours.’

‘Oh yes, yes! I won’t let you down Bre- I mean
David. Just say the word and I’ll start working on the first draft
immediately.’