The California Club (44 page)

Zoë sits back in her seat, stunned.

'Lara,' Helen smiles. 'When everyone else moved away you stayed put and you've been waiting for us all to come back ever since. I told Reuben that if I had a wish for you it would be that you would get the chance to travel and then maybe you'd understand what pulls people away, and that it's not always personal. And it's certainly not a rejection of you.'

She sighs.

‘And then there's Elliot. Who is really half of you, I always think.' She looks straight at me. 'I honestly thought he was about to make the worst decision of his life. Everything he told me about Elise, I kept thinking WRONG! WRONG! You know we'd all love to see you and him end up together but even if that was a wish too far I at least wanted him to have a small break from her. They moved in together too soon, he never had the chance to think …'

We're back full circle to the thinking.

'Then one day Reuben got sick of me saying what I wished would happen for you all and suggested I do something about it.'

Reuben wraps his arms around Helen, looking proud to be a part of the scam.

'I can't believe it!' Zoë mutters, still in shock.

'You can't have known what we were going to write, that first night on the beach.' Sasha narrows her eyes.

'I've known you guys for ten years,' Helen reminds us. 'None of you were out of character.'

I think for a moment. She's right. 'But what about Elise?'

'She was the wild card. I couldn't predict her wish but oh the joy when I saw what she wrote!' Helen gets a mischievous twinkle.

'What if she'd said she wanted to go paragliding!' Zoë plucks a random alternative.

'It could have been arranged. Reuben's lived here his whole life, he has a lot of friends.'

I think faulty harness but it's too late for that now.

'Did you know Ty already?' Sasha wants to know.

'Just enough to know that he isn't as gruff as he might appear. It crossed my mind that there might be an attraction but there was no major matchmaking intended.'

'What about Joel?' My stomach flips. 'Was he one of yours? A plant or a stooge or whatever you call it?'

'Now he was pure heaven-sent!' Helen laughs.

I'm relieved at that at least. I'd hate to think he'd just been doing a job.

A young girl creaks on to the porch chinking a bottle of champagne and six glasses.

'This is my cousin Beth,' Reuben introduces us. 'She helped us with the logistics.'

'Just how big an operation was it?' I ask, imagining a whole team with high-tech headsets standing before a flashing map of California.

Helen laughs as she hands out the fizz. 'Big.'

'God I need this!' Zoë takes a pre-toast gulp.

I'd do the same but I fear I might choke on it.

'Everyone got a glass?' Helen asks. 'Okay then, let's raise them to—' She goes to make the toast but the words seem to stick in her throat. 'Reuben, could you?' she asks.

He puts his arm around her. 'To Elise and Elliot.'

'To Elise and Elliot,' the rest of us mumble, turning what should be an exultation into a dirge.

Beth looks confused and tugs at Reuben's sleeve.

'What?' He turns to her.

'It's Elise and Andrew,' she corrects him.

'Elliot,' Reuben assures her. 'Elise and Elliot. Sickening, really.'

'No.' She stands firm. 'She married Andrew.'

'Beth, what are you saying?'

'Martha said Andrew, definitely Andrew,' she insists, getting impatient that no one seems to believe her. 'She said they made a cute couple even though he's old enough to be her father. Elliot's your age, right?'

'Who the hell is Andrew?' Zoë yelps, looking ready to keel over with confusion.

'I think he might be a minister,' I offer in a daze.

'Andrew is her ex-boyfriend, the one from Carmel,' Helen asserts.

Sasha grips my hand, pressing home the realization that Elliot is still a free man. I don't know whether to laugh, cry or faint but Helen looks like she might beat me to it.

'Helen are you all right?' Reuben steadies her. 'This is exactly what you hoped would happen!'

'I know, I know.' Helen' sits down, still looking shell-shocked. 'I really thought she'd married Elliot. I'm just so relieved …'

She's
relieved?! There are no words to describe what I'm feeling right now. Hot tears of joy sting my eyes, though I still don't understand the hows and whys. And I'm not the only one.

'Why do I always feel like I'm missing something?' Zoë frowns. 'Can someone please tell me what's going on?'

Helen sits back down, still trying to get her head around the news. Then she begins: 'You remember Elise telling us about the guy in Carmel?’

We all nod.

‘The one where there was some scandal,' I prompt.

'He's her uncle.' Helen reveals the secret at last.

We gasp.

'Oh my god!'

'Is that legal?' Sasha frets.

‘They're not blood. He was married to her mum's sister. They'd never even met before she went to stay with him a few years ago.'

'And they fell in love, just like that?'

'He was having problems with his marriage, she - the aunt - was back in England on a visit and yes, they fell in love. Unfortunately for Elise, the aunt was very popular in the village and everyone knew the niece was coming to stay and so when they found out …'

'Scandal!' Zoë coos.

'Elise couldn't bear the shame. She's a conservative girl at heart and so she left him, came back to England and latched on to Elliot – the right age, right job, no skeletons in his closet. He was her chance for a normal life.’

‘How do you know all this?' I marvel.

'She told me.'

'When?'

'We've been emailing since they met. I mentioned to Elliot one time that I'd heard Doris Day had a hotel in California and he remembered Elise talking about it because it's quite a feature in Carmel – one of the first hotels to allow cats and dogs.'

'So he put you two in contact.'

'Exactly.'

'And slowly you wheedled her life story …'

'You know me!' Helen shrugs, cheerily. 'I like to know everything about everything.'

'Why didn't you tell us?' Zoë humphs.

Helen gives me an enigmatic look. 'I had my reasons.'

I shake my head. 'I feel like I'm peeking behind the curtains at
The Wizard of Oz
. Who are you?'

'I'm your friend Helen. The one who wants the best for all of you. The one that wants to see you all as happy as I am,' she says and squeezes our hands. 'Or an interfering old busybody, depending on how you look at it.’

We laugh and hug her.

'Any more questions?'

'Thousands!' I laugh.

But number one would be: 'Where’s Elliot?’

‘Sasha, I just saw a coach pull into the parking lot – please tell me you haven't hijacked a group of tourists to make up numbers?' I raise an eyebrow at her.

'Don't be silly!' she chuckles, continuing to unload beer on to a trestle table staffed by Reuben and cousin Beth (even though she's under age).

'What then?' I persist.

'Come and see for yourself.' She sets down the final bottles with a clunk and takes my arm.

As we head down the driveway, a bizarre hotchpotch of humanity begins to file past. A blonde in a skimpy white dress, a man in a gorilla outfit, a couple looking like they're going on safari, even one chap with a stethoscope round his neck.

'I didn't know there was a fancy dress theme,' I frown. 'Hey that guy looks like Paul Hogan – see, he's got the full
Crocodile Dundee
clobber.'

'Remember the Reel Awards?' Zoë appears behind me.

I spin around. 'You booked the lookalikes?'

'A select number – I got Ty and Boris to help me put together a list of all the famous people that have starred alongside animals in movies and then I called to see if I could find a match – that's King Kong and Fay Wray.'

Of course.

'Dr Dolittle …'

It's all beginning to make sense.

'Meryl Streep and Robert Redford …'

'Don't tell me!
Out of Africa
? They look so convincing.'

'Boris and Holy Mary did the make-up,' Zoë grins. They're even bringing along some old movie memorabilia for us to auction later.'

‘This one's a toughie …' Sasha nods over to a beefcake in a loincloth.

'Tarzan!' I hoot. 'Wow, he's a big fella, isn't he?' The ground fairly thuds as he passes.

'Jane'll be along later, she missed the coach,' Zoë tells Sasha.

‘I thought Cheetah was a chimp,' I frown as the next chap to pass us hoiks a toy orangutan into his arms.

'He was, that's Clint Eastwood for
Any Which Way But Loose
. Which reminds me – I'd better go and set up the film clips.' Sasha bows out.

'We're having a kind of Animal Oscars,' Zoë explains. 'Ty's put together a montage of all the moments where the animals out-acted the actors.'

'Hm?' I'm distracted as a dashing couple pass us. 'Is that …?'

'Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant.'

'For
Bringing Up Baby
?' I gasp. 'I thought you slept all through that!' I laugh, recalling the Sunday we rented it.

'Most of it,' Zoë concedes. 'But I remembered the bit with the leopard – we're going to team them up with Stella later.'

'Zoë, this is amazing! Look at you!' She's radiant.

'I forgot the last reel!' Sasha yells as she hares past us.

'And Sasha!' I laugh. 'I've never seen her move so fast!’

‘I know – she never used to get this psyched about her modeling jobs, did she?'

I shake my head, thrilled that she's found a passion.

'She's worked so hard,' Zoë acknowledges.

'What about you? You've been slogging your mules off in a diner all week and yet you've pulled together the most perfect theme for the party – it's inspired!'

Zoë can't help but puff with pride. 'It's funny, isn't it? I worked for a charity for four years and it never once occurred to me to try and come up with any fundraising ideas because that wasn't my job. I was all about the paperwork. Now I think I might have missed my calling!'

'It's not too late,' I remind her.

'I know!' she gives me a megawatt smile. 'The Dyspraxia Foundation isn’t going to know what's hit them when I get back!'

'Then you're staying with them?' My heart boings with joy.

'I'll leave when I feel I've really achieved something,' Zoë tells me, looking uncharacteristically virtuous. 'I haven't given them all I have to give yet.'

'Oh, Zoë,' I cheer.

‘Don't, I'll cry and we've got a special guest of honor coming, I don't want to mess up my make-up!'

'Not Eddie Powers?' I gawk.

'Noooo!' Zoë tuts. 'Although maybe I should've got him along to do a tune – he could have sung
Wild Thing
every time someone made a donation …'

'It should really be Tom Jones singing
What's New Pussycat
?' I joke.

'Or better yet, the Stray Cats!' Zoë counters.

'What about the Super Furry Animals?' I hoot.

Zoë's creativity is contagious. Maybe if I brainstorm long enough I'll come up with a solution for the B&B. Just a few hours to go before I have to call Mum. I am so in denial.

'Zoë! Can you find Ty and get him to turn on the floodlights – people are starting to arrive!' Sasha swirls past, again at 100mph.

'What can I do?' I grab Zoë before she tears off.

'See if you can get any of the guests to adopt a cat – they'd get full visitation rights and get to feed them the food that they purchase!'

'Will do!’

‘Get Helen to help you!' Zoë calls back.

I take a moment to get my head around the evening's event. It's a much bigger deal than I imagined. I think I was just expecting a handful of potential sponsors, like Carrie's contacts from San Francisco – apparently they're here somewhere … Carrie herself is over at the makeshift photo booth setting up the backdrop so people can get a Polaroid with Theo or Maxine in return for a $10 donation. I'm definitely getting one of those. Maybe I'll get it framed and label it 'The California Cub'!

I sigh. I wish I could feel I'd made more of a contribution. Still the night is young and judging by the people streaming through the gates there's a good many guests to accost. I'll get a donation out of them even if I have to pick their pockets.

In amongst the strangers I recognize the odd face – particularly odd in the case of the neighbors from Zoë's apartment building. Then there's Todd and Betty from the diner, Sunset sheathed in tiger-striped sequins and – my heart does a quick loop-the-loop – Joel.

'Lara,' he purrs. 'How's my little sex kitten?’

‘I'm fabulous!' I'm surprised to hear myself say. I could’ve sworn I was miserable.

‘Nice outfit!' He eyes the pair of pawprints faux-tattooed just above my cleavage in homage to rapper Eve.

'You like?' I peer down at them. 'I used real tiger paws to make the print.'

'Oh really? How about we use my real hands on your—' He goes to grab my rear.

'Joel!' I stop him with a hearty shove.

He grabs me into a hug. 'So tell me, did the cat get the cream?'

My face falls. 'If you mean Elliot, no, she didn't.'

He heaves a dissatisfied sigh. 'That's no good. I'm going to have to have a word. Where is he?'

'No idea. Nobody knows.'

'Really? I can't believe I was wrong about him – about the two of you. I'm never wrong—'

'Joel!' Three older guys sporting baseball hats, beards and beer bellies bowl up. Judging from the assortment of movie logos they're sporting they're Hollywood big shots. (Just as well they're wearing the logos or the diner starlets wouldn't know to fawn over them.)

‘These are my friends,' Joel seems to be using inverted commas around the word friends. I suspect he means: These are the richest guys I know.

I shake hands with them all. One of them says, 'Nice tats!'

I force a smile. 'The bar is over to the right,' I usher them through.

Gosh it's good to see Joel. Every time we part I think it's going to be for the last time. And every time it's not just feels such a bonus.