The Angel Tree (53 page)

‘I’m grateful for that, Mr Glenwilliam. As I’m sure you know, running the Marchmont estate is a full-time job. My aunt has managed it well for so many years but, recently, her
illness has meant that all sorts of things haven’t been attended to. There’s a pile of bills that haven’t been paid, fences in need of immediate repair. Jack Wallace, the farm
manager, came to see me yesterday. Something has to be done.’

‘Really?’ Mr Glenwilliam raised an eyebrow. ‘You surprise me, Miss Hammond. I was there not long ago to see your aunt and I thought things were running like clockwork, as
always.’

‘Well, let us say that appearances can sometimes be deceptive. Anyway, the immediate difficulty is that I need some money to pay the wages and some general bills.’

‘That won’t be a problem. We’ve dealt with the affairs of the Marchmont estate for many years. If you let me have the bills, I’m authorised to write out cheques using the
estate account. There’s plenty of money in it. Then, once your aunt is better, she—’

‘But that’s the trouble, Mr Glenwilliam.’ Cheska let the tears flow once more. ‘I don’t think my aunt is ever going to fully recover. At least not enough to manage
the estate. And with my uncle out of the country, I am the next of kin, and I want to do what I can, at least until he returns.’

‘I see. As you say, Marchmont is a full-time job. What about your acting career?’

‘Family comes first, doesn’t it? I shall just have to take a sabbatical until my uncle gets back.’

‘Well, I think that may be a bit drastic, Miss Hammond. As I’ve said, this practice has run the Marchmont estate on numerous occasions and will happily do so again, temporarily, of
course.’

‘No, I don’t think that’s going to be the answer, Mr Glenwilliam. Pardon me for seeming rude, but I really don’t want to have to run to you every time I need a cheque for
some hay or animal feed, however enjoyable the interlude might be.’

‘I understand, Miss Hammond.’ Mr Glenwilliam straightened his tie. ‘So what you really want is a temporary power of attorney?’

‘Do I? Could you explain what that means?’

‘Well, when someone is deemed unfit by the doctor to manage their own financial affairs or businesses, power of attorney can be granted either to a close member of the family or a legal
body. This gives them access to finances and enables them to act on the person’s behalf.’

‘I see. So you could do that for me?’

‘In theory. Although I do think I should attempt to contact your uncle before we undertake such a measure.’

‘Unfortunately he’s trekking in the Himalayas, then in China. It could be weeks if not months before you’re able to get hold of him. I’ve tried myself, of course, with no
luck so far.’ Cheska recrossed her legs and again saw Glenwilliam’s eyes flicker in their direction.

‘I can see that makes matters difficult, Miss Hammond. But are you sure this is even what you want? Marchmont is a huge responsibility, especially for someone with – pardon me for
saying it – little experience of this kind of thing.’

‘Yes, at least for the foreseeable future. When my uncle gets home, we can take things from there.’

‘Well, I’d have to have some papers drawn up, and your aunt would have to sign them.’

‘That might be a problem. At the moment, my aunt cannot lift a cup to her mouth, let alone sign her name. She has also lost the power of speech.’

‘Well, then, we’d have to ask her doctor to write a letter confirming that, at present, Mrs Marchmont is unable to conduct her own affairs.’

‘I have it here, actually. Dr Stone has seen my aunt and confirms in the letter what I have just said.’

‘I see.’ Mr Glenwilliam opened the letter and read its contents. ‘I stress it would be
temporary
power of attorney, until your aunt recovers or . . . well, then her
will would come into operation, anyway.’

‘Of course,’ Cheska whispered, lowering her eyes. ‘And the estate passes to my Uncle David, doesn’t it?’

‘Exactly,’ Mr Glenwilliam confirmed. ‘I must repeat, it really is a lot of responsibility, Miss Hammond.’

‘I know. But I want to do whatever I can to help my aunt. If she knows Marchmont is in safe hands, it’ll be a huge weight off her shoulders. I have Jack Wallace, and you’ll be
here to advise me, won’t you, Mr Glenwilliam?’ She gave him the benefit of her most beguiling smile.

‘Of course. Any time you need any help or advice, just pick up the telephone. In the meantime, I’ll have the papers drawn up.’

When she arrived home, Cheska made a phone call.

‘No, she isn’t incontinent, but she can’t talk at present. Do you think you might have room for her? Great. Well, I’d like to bring her across on Monday afternoon, if
that’s okay with you. Yes, I will. Goodbye.’

That night, Cheska didn’t sleep. She was afraid of the dreams she knew she would have.

On Monday morning she drove into Monmouth with Tom the Taxi. Telling him she’d find her own way back home, she went to Mr Glenwilliam’s office and picked up the
envelope containing the temporary power of attorney, then walked around the corner to the bank. There, she arranged for the transfer of a large sum of money from the Marchmont estate account to be
credited to her own. Having enquired where she could rent a car, she followed the bank clerk’s instructions and found the garage.

She paid the rental for the car, climbed in and drove off in the direction of LJ’s nursing home.

Later that day, she was back at Marchmont. She went up to her bedroom and began to pack. Then she went downstairs to see Mary.

‘As you know, I’m off to London tomorrow, Mary, and I was thinking that you should leave early today and take tomorrow off as well. Spend time with that husband of yours.
You’ve been working so hard recently. In fact’ – Cheska dug into her handbag and pulled out her purse – ‘why don’t the two of you go out for dinner tonight? It
would be a “thank you” from me.’ Cheska proffered two twenty-pound notes.

Mary looked at her in surprise. ‘But, surely, if you’re not here for a couple of days, I should come up to the house to check on it anyway?’

‘There’s no need, Mary. I promise that I’m fully capable of locking up before I leave. Really, I insist.’

‘If that’s what you want, it’s very generous of you, Miss Cheska. And you’re right, it will be nice to spend some time with Huw. I’ll go and see Mrs Marchmont
whilst you’re away, of course.’

‘Actually, when I saw her earlier today the matron told me that, tomorrow, she’s going to Abergavenny Hospital for a couple of days so her consultant can run some tests and assess
her progress. It’s probably best if you leave visiting her until later in the week. For once in your life, forget about Marchmont and all of us’ – Cheska smiled kindly –
‘then you can come back feeling refreshed.’

‘Okay,’ Mary agreed doubtfully. ‘I’ll be off now. Your supper is in the Aga,’ she said, removing her apron. ‘Have a lovely time in London and send a kiss to
my Ava, won’t you?’

‘Of course.’

As Mary left for her cottage, she couldn’t help feeling uneasy. Miss Cheska had always been a strange one and no mistake, but as she was Mrs Marchmont’s niece, she felt it
wasn’t her place to question her instructions.

That night, Cheska roamed the deserted corridors of Marchmont. The voices in her head – and one in particular – were very insistent tonight.

It should be yours, you have to fight for it . . . She hates you, she always has . . .

Cheska sank onto the bed in her old nursery, the room where Jonny and she had once lain sleeping peacefully together in their cribs. She’d adored him. And then he’d gone away.

‘But you
didn’t
go, did you, Jonny? And you never will!’ she wept, her legs crossed in the way she’d always sat as a child, but now with fists in her eyes to
stop the tears and the voices.

‘They’ll never stop, will they? You’ll never stop!’ she screamed in anguish. ‘Leave me alone, leave me alone . . .’

As the voices reached an unbearable pitch in her head, Cheska suddenly realised what she had to do to stop them.

Destroy the memories and they couldn’t haunt you any longer.

Yes, yes, that was it!

She closed the large case she had packed in preparation to leave for London the following morning, picked it up and took it downstairs with her to the front door. Then she entered the drawing
room, went to the fireplace and collected the box of firelighters and matches, and headed back upstairs. Calmly, she pulled the wastepaper basket towards her and set it underneath the old wooden
rocking horse her aunt had once told her had been David’s. Taking an old picture book she had once loved as a child, she tore out its pages and screwed them up into balls, putting them one by
one into the basket.

Kneeling down, she lit some matches and dropped them onto the paper. It leapt into flames immediately and she sat down on the edge of the bed, watching as they licked at the peeling painted
flank of the wooden horse. Satisfied, she stood up to leave.

‘Goodbye, Jonny,’ she whispered.

By the time she left the room, the rocking horse was a bright, burning mass of fire.

When Ava returned to her room after her last lecture, she jumped hurriedly into the shower, climbed into a clinging black dress Cheska had bought her in Monmouth, put on a dab
of lipstick and ran back out again to catch the bus to Shaftesbury Avenue.

The theatre foyer was already crowded, and she weaved her way through it up to the dress-circle bar, where her mother had said they should meet.

‘Honey!’ A radiant Cheska flung her arms around Ava and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Come and sit down. Dorian has ordered champagne.’

‘Who’s Dorian?’

‘Dorian, my darling, is my new agent. Well, he’s not really new. He’s just taken over from Leon Bronowski, who used to look after me when I was an actress in London years ago.
He’s just dying to meet you. Look, there he is now.’

‘Oh.’ Ava watched as a balding, middle-aged man dressed flamboyantly in a scarlet velvet evening jacket and gold cravat approached their table.

‘Miss Marchmont . . . Ava.’ The man took her hand and kissed it. ‘I’m Dorian Hedley, agent extraordinaire and about to be responsible for your mother’s already
glittering career. Good God, Cheska, she could be your double! Champagne, Ava?’

‘Just a small glass, thanks.’ She turned to Cheska, who was looking fabulous in a sparkling midnight-blue evening dress. Seeing her in it made her feel plain and dull in comparison.
‘But I thought you already had an agent in Hollywood?’

‘Yes, honey, I do. But . . . oh, I’ve been feeling for a while that it was time for a change. Dorian here has convinced me that I’m right, haven’t you, Dorian?’

‘Yes. We Brits seem to lose all our best products to the States, so I’m happy I just might have lured one back.’

‘So . . . Mother, you’re going to stay here in the UK permanently?’

‘Well, I’m going to give it a try. I walked into Dorian’s office late this afternoon just to say hello, and the two of us began chatting and found we saw eye to eye about so
many things. Dorian was coming to the first night tonight as he has a client in the show, so we went out for a drink and he’s convinced me that my future lies here in England.’ She
reached for Ava’s hand. ‘Isn’t it wonderful? I mean, now we can be together in London.’

Ava frowned, thinking of LJ. ‘Of course.’ She sat quietly, listening to Cheska and Dorian dissect various television programmes, giggle at gossip and bitch nastily about a
particularly well-known actress. She wished she hadn’t come. She felt completely out of place.

Eventually, the two-minute bell rang and Dorian led them into a box on the left-hand side of the stage. Ava looked down into the stalls and saw people whispering and pointing up towards her
mother.

The lights went down and soon the auditorium was full of the sound of fifties rock and roll. Simon made his entrance and Ava’s eyes never left him as he and the other actors impersonated
some of the best-known pop stars from the era.

After the interval, the show moved into the sixties. The lights dimmed and Simon came forward to stand at the microphone, dressed in a pair of jeans and a cardigan.

Ava was enraptured by his lovely, mellow voice as he sang a ballad. She noticed that her mother was straining forward, breathing hard, her eyes focused on Simon too.

‘Yes, that’s the madness, the madness of love . . .’

Mother and daughter sat side by side, lost in their memories. For Cheska, the terrible thing she had done yesterday was wiped from her mind. That had been a dream.
This
was reality.
He’d come back to her, and this time it would be forever.

Ava remembered when Simon and she had walked along the Thames together and how comfortable she’d felt with him. But at the same time she realised that Simon was a talented, handsome man
who, after tonight, would have a horde of girls after him. He was obviously way out of her league.

The cast got a standing ovation at the end of the show, and Cheska cheered louder than anyone.

‘You don’t mind popping backstage with us, do you, Ava?’ Cheska said to her as they left the theatre. ‘I must go and tell Bobby how wonderful he was.’

‘You mean Simon, Mother,’ Ava corrected her.

Once inside the stage door, Dorian went to see his client and Cheska strutted off towards Simon’s dressing room. Without knocking, she marched inside to find a throng of well-wishers
already there. Elbowing her way through them, Cheska went up to Simon, who was talking to someone, and threw her arms round his shoulders, kissing him on both cheeks.

‘Honey, you were wonderful! What a debut! You’ll be the toast of the town tomorrow, I promise you.’

‘Er, thanks, Cheska.’

Ava, who had stayed near the door because of the crush, saw that he was taken aback by her mother’s extravagant praise. Then he spotted her and smiled, moving past Cheska towards her.
‘Hello, how are you?’ he asked softly.

She smiled shyly. ‘Fine, thanks. You were great.’

‘Thank you. I—’

Cheska broke the moment, her voice unusually shrill. ‘I’ll see you at the party, Simon.’