The Angel Tree (33 page)

Cheska wondered whether it was because she hadn’t taken her pills for a while that she was once more experiencing the terrible black headaches and hearing the voice, but she didn’t
think so. It was all because Bobby wasn’t here.

Also, her monthlies had stopped coming. She’d ignored it the first time, but when nothing had happened again the previous week Cheska knew she had to see a doctor. She might be dying, and
she’d need to tell Bobby if she was.

Four days ago she’d booked an appointment with a different doctor to her usual one. Dr Ferguson, a middle-aged woman, had taken Cheska into her consulting room and asked her a lot of
questions, some of which had made Cheska blush. As the conversation had progressed, it began to dawn on her how little she really knew about the workings of her own body. Dr Ferguson had also given
her a thorough physical examination, taken blood samples and suggested she take a pregnancy test. Cheska had gasped in horror but had agreed. Every night since then, she’d tossed and turned
in bed at the thought of what might have happened to her.

And when she did sleep she had the nightmares and heard the voice. She knew the only thing that could take it all away was Bobby. He’d make her feel better.

After her mother had left for lunch with David this morning, Cheska had paced up and down her bedroom. She was due at the doctor’s to get her test results at half past two, but her mind
was so confused she couldn’t sit still for a second.

Then something dreadful had happened. She’d walked across to the mirror to brush her hair. But her reflection wasn’t there.

She was invisible.

Choking back sobs, she’d rushed out of the flat and walked straight to the doctor’s surgery, not daring to look for her image in any of the windows she passed.

‘Cheska Hammond?’ The receptionist eventually called her name and she stood up. Because she’d arrived so early, she’d been in the waiting room for almost an hour.
‘Dr Ferguson will see you now.’

Heart beating hard, Cheska walked slowly down the corridor to the consulting room and knocked on the door.

‘Hello, Dr Ferguson,’ she said as she entered the room.

‘Hello, Cheska. Please sit down. Now, I have the results of the tests we did a few days ago. You’ll be pleased to know that you are not ill or at death’s door. But the tests
have confirmed what I originally thought. You are pregnant.’

Cheska burst into tears.

‘There, there, it’s all right.’ Dr Ferguson handed Cheska a tissue. ‘You said last week that you’re not married, is that right?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’

‘But you have a steady boyfriend?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you think that when he hears the news he’ll be prepared to do the right thing by you? It would obviously be far better for both you and the baby if he did.’

‘I . . . do I have to have it?’

‘Well, yes. Perhaps you don’t know, dear, but abortion – which is how a woman ends an unwanted pregnancy – is illegal in Britain. So I’m afraid you have no
choice.’

Cheska gulped back tears, unable to comprehend what the doctor was saying. But then . . . she began to imagine telling Bobby she was carrying his child.
Their
baby, made out of love.
How could she doubt he’d marry her? Cheska felt a sudden calm descend on her. Her heartbeat slowed and she smiled at the doctor.

‘Yes, I’m sure he’ll stand by me and we’ll get married,’ she answered.

‘Well, that’s good news at least. Now, what I suggest is that you talk to him, and then come back and see me so we can book you into a local hospital for the birth. Do you have any
other family?’

‘I live with my mother.’

‘Then I would tell her, too. It’s best to have someone on your side in these circumstances. She might be shocked at first, but I’m sure she’ll be supportive.’

‘Yes, doctor, thank you.’ Cheska rose from the chair. ‘Goodbye.’

She left the surgery in a daze and walked out onto the busy street. The smog was still very bad and traffic was at a standstill. Dusk was beginning to descend and it was drizzling.

Cheska needed to go somewhere to think. She walked up Piccadilly, through the maze of Soho streets and went into the first coffee bar she found. Having ordered an espresso, she delved into her
handbag, drew out a packet of Embassy and lit one up. It was the brand Bobby smoked and a habit she had begun recently. The smell of smoke evoked his memory and she found it comforting. She fumbled
for her compact and drew it out. ‘God, please let me be here, please,’ she begged as she opened it. She breathed a sigh of relief as her features gazed back at her.

It was all right, all right. She wasn’t invisible after all. It must have been the worry about her appointment with the doctor.

Her coffee arrived and as she sipped it, she reassured herself that the baby was the best thing that could have happened. Surely, now, Bobby would marry her and she would get her heart’s
desire? A blissful vision of the three of them – her, Bobby and their baby – appeared in her mind’s eye, and she smiled. Then, tentatively, Cheska felt her stomach. In there was
part of Bobby, a living, breathing reminder of the way he had loved her and would continue to love her in the future.

Cheska knew she had to think about the practicalities. She decided she would break the news to her mother over drinks at the Savoy this evening as she knew Greta wouldn’t make a scene in a
hotel. She would assure her that she and Bobby would marry as soon as possible. Her mother might be cross because she had lied a little, but she was sure Greta would forgive her when she knew she
was going to be a grandmother and have a beautiful new baby to love. The screen test in Hollywood would have to be postponed indefinitely, but what was a silly film compared to her love for Bobby
and their child?

The first thing she must do was ring Leon to get Bobby’s telephone number in France. Draining her coffee cup, she walked to the back of the coffee shop in search of the telephone and
dialled his number.

‘Hello, Cheska, good to hear from you. Have you decided when you’re going to America?’

‘No, not exactly, Leon.’

‘You really can’t leave it too much longer. They won’t wait forever, you know.’

‘I know. Listen, Leon. I’m ringing because I need to get in touch with Bobby.’

‘Bobby who?’

‘Bobby Cross, of course,’ Cheska said irritably. ‘Do you have a telephone number for him in France?’

‘In France?’ Leon sounded surprised.

‘Yes. That’s where he is, isn’t he?’

‘Oh . . . er . . . yes. Of course it is.’

‘It really is urgent I speak to him.’

‘I see. I tell you what, why don’t you leave it to me? He’s . . . er . . . moving around a lot at the moment, but the next time he calls me I’ll tell him to get in touch
with you immediately.’

‘All right, but please, Leon, tell him it’s urgent.’

‘I will. Everything’s all right, isn’t it, Cheska?’

‘Oh yes, everything’s fine. Goodbye.’ She put the phone down then checked her watch. She had twenty minutes to get to the Savoy.

Greta was sitting in the American Bar drinking a gin and tonic and smoking a cigarette. She’d spent the past hour trying to think of exactly how she was going to break
the dreadful news about Bobby Cross to Cheska.

She saw her daughter arrive and her heart skipped a beat. She watched as the men dotted around the bar followed Cheska’s progress across the room. She really was maturing into a very
beautiful young woman, and there was no reason why she couldn’t move on from this and have any man she wanted. The thought gave Greta courage.

‘Hello, Mummy.’ Cheska sat down opposite her.

Greta noticed Cheska’s eyes were a little too bright and there was heightened colour in her normally pale cheeks.

‘Did you have a good lunch with Uncle David?’ Cheska continued.

‘Very pleasant. Actually, he’s going to join us shortly for a drink.’

‘Oh. It’ll be lovely to see him.’

‘Shall I get you something?’

‘An orange juice, please.’

‘Right.’ Greta ordered from the waiter, then turned to her daughter, at a loss to know how to begin, but then Cheska spoke.

‘Mummy, I . . . have something to tell you. I know you’re going to be a little upset, but I want you to know that everything is going to be fine in the end.’

‘Really? What is it?’

‘Well, this afternoon, I found out that Bobby and I are expecting a baby.’ The words came out in a garbled rush and Cheska carried on quickly before Greta had a chance to reply.
‘Please, Mummy, don’t be angry with me. I know I lied to you about Bobby and me and the kind of relationship we have, but I knew you’d only worry if I told you the truth. The baby
was a bit of a mistake, but now it’s happened I’m so happy. It’s really what I want and Bobby will be over the moon. I’m sure he’ll want to marry me as soon as
possible.’

Cheska saw her mother’s face turn white with shock.

‘I . . . Oh, Cheska.’ A solitary tear appeared in her eye and trickled down her face.

‘Mummy, please don’t cry. Everything’s going to be fine, really.’

‘Excuse me, darling. I have to go to the powder room.’ Greta stood up, walked briskly across the bar and down the steps to the sanctuary of the lavatories. She shut the cubicle door
and nausea rose in her throat.

When she had finished being sick, she leant against the door, panting.

She had done everything –
everything
– to protect and nurture her child, to pave the way for her daughter to have the kind of love, financial security and career she had
never achieved herself. And yet, after all her efforts, history was repeating itself. Cheska was pregnant by a man who didn’t love her and would never marry her, even if he
were
free
to do so.

‘Why? Why?’ Greta moaned.

‘Mummy, Mummy? Are you in there? Are you okay?’ It was Cheska.

‘Yes, darling, I’m fine.’ Greta heaved herself upright and pulled the chain. She took a deep breath, knowing she had to be strong for her daughter. The situation was just about
salvageable, but she had to think fast. Putting a smile on her face, she unlocked the door. Cheska was standing, twisting her hands together, as she always did when she was nervous or upset. Greta
went over to the basin, washed her hands and freshened her lipstick. Cheska watched her in silence.

‘I’m sorry, darling. I think it must have been the shock of what you told me. I felt a little faint, but I’m all right now. Let’s go and have our drinks, shall we? We
have plenty of things to discuss.’

They walked out together and made their way back to the bar. Greta reached for her gin and took a large gulp, wishing David would hurry up.

‘Mummy, please tell me you’re not angry with me. I really don’t want you to be upset. I’m not. I’m happy.’

Greta shook her head wearily. ‘No, darling. I’m not angry, just very worried for you.’

‘Well, don’t be. As I said, everything’s going to be fine.’

‘Have you told Bobby the news?’

‘Not yet, no. He’s still in France, but I telephoned Leon earlier and Bobby will ring me as soon as he can. But I know he’ll be thrilled. And all it means is that we’ll
have to get married sooner than we planned.’

‘So, Bobby has actually asked you to marry him, has he, Cheska?’

‘Not in so many words, but I know it’s what he wants. He loves me, Mummy, and I love him. Just think, you’ll be a grandmother!’

Greta managed to keep her expression steady but, inside, her heart was breaking. She studied her daughter’s earnest face and wondered if she really did have some kind of emotional problem.
Or was it her own fault as a mother for shielding Cheska too fiercely from reality? Whatever the reason for it, her naivety was truly breathtaking. Cheska assumed – just as always happened in
her films – that her life would have a happy ending.

Greta could wait for David no longer. She took a deep breath and reached for her daughter’s hand. ‘Darling, I have something to tell you. I know you may not believe me, so Uncle
David is coming to confirm that I’m not lying to you. I was going to tell you anyway tonight, but with the news you’ve just given me it’s even more important that you know the
truth.’

Greta saw that Cheska’s face had already hardened. Tension showed at the corners of her mouth. ‘What “truth”?’ she asked.

‘Before I tell you, I want you to know that I love you more than anything else in the world and would never do anything to hurt you. I’d give anything to protect you from this,
Cheska, but I can’t. You’ve asked to be treated as a grown-up and now you must have the courage to behave like one. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

‘Yes, Mummy. Just tell me what it is, please. Is it you? Are you ill?’

‘In some ways, I wish it were that simple. Now, you’re going to have to be very brave and remember that I’m on your side and will help you in any way I can.’

‘Just tell me what it is, Mummy, please!’

‘Cheska, darling, Bobby Cross is married. He has been for several years. He also has two small children.’

Cheska stared at her mother in silence, her face expressionless.

Greta continued. ‘Uncle David told me today at lunch. Apparently it’s one of the best-kept secrets in show business. A wife and children weren’t good for his image as a
heart-throb, so there’s been nothing in the press about them. And even if he wanted to marry you, he wouldn’t be able to, because his wife refuses to divorce him. What he’s done
to you is unforgivable, Cheska, but Uncle David says you’re not the first and will certainly not be the last. I promise you, darling, it’s the truth.’ Greta paused and tried to
gauge her daughter’s reaction.

Cheska was no longer looking at her mother. She was staring off into space.

‘Darling, please believe me when I say that, although the situation is difficult, it’s not the end of the world. We can sort out your problem, Cheska. I’m sure you know there
are ways and means. Afterwards, we could go off to America and do the screen test. Once your film opens there, every studio will be after you to sign with them. You’ll soon forget Bobby and .
. .’