Chapter 16

New York

Dakota, Central Park West

Eleonor Baker's apartment

The car eventually stopped once it entered the porte cochère of the impressive Dakota building on Central Park West, one of the most prestigious residential addresses of the city. Eleonor came out as soon as the chauffeur opened her door. Terry had already opened his and had put the crutches out on the pavement, attempting to get out of the bloody car. His mood was at best described irritated like hell. The fracture was confirmed. His left leg was crammed inside a plaster cast up to the midpoint of his calf. It felt damn heavy and uncomfortable as fuck and that didn't include the pain he felt not only from his leg but from his bruises on his sides too.

Robert of course was beyond himself. Terrence's accident spelled the end of the season for him, with still ten days to go. He would have to speak to his understudy to take over Hamlet's role. The press had to be called. However, those were the least of his issues. Upon doctor's advice, he should not get involved at all with the London performances. That announcement was as close to catastrophe as it could get for the director of the theatre company. The ankle would have healed by the beginning of July, but having to get up on stage for hours every day for a month, it would put significant strain on his foot when he should be just taking it easy. A replacement had to be found. The understudy wouldn't cut it however. The collaboration with the London theatre was done on the premises that Terrence Grandchester was going to be Hamlet. Any other theatre actor below the A list ones would not suffice.

Eleonor, having been called by her son in the morning, was with him when they got the news. Which was fortunate for Terry. Otherwise Robert might had done something to him, he would regret afterwards. He had kept staring at him as if he wanted to commit murder. Eleonor however, had a plan she could discuss with Robert later in the day. Perhaps it could save the day and her son's skin for that matter since the director did not want to hear even a peep coming from Terry's mouth. That close to erupting he was with the whole nightmarish situation. The main thing for now had been to get her son to her apartment to rest.

Disgruntled as ever gave an annoyed look to his mother who came in front of the open door, having stretched her arms towards him, offering to help him out. "I can do it on my own, thanks!", he said, his voice sounding stiff. He put his good leg out while lifting with his arm the other.

She leaned forward, disregarding her son's anger, got hold of his free arm which was gripping the side of the open door for support and pulled him gently out.

"Darling...you won't solve anything by being so grumpy...", she said with a sweet voice, once Terry came out and put the crutches under his arms. He would have known that his mother's attitude would drive him insane. As soon as he phoned her in the morning, he could tell.

"It was your own doing Terry...going for an evening walk is fine...getting lost in East Harlem isn't!", she added, feeling scared just to the thought of what might have happened if it wasn't only a beating her son got.

"It wasn't my fault Eleonor!", he said with a raised voice, already sweating by the time they reached the lifts, "It's my fucking luck!"

Eleonor pressed her son's lips with her index finger. "Ah! No swearing please!", she said and pushed the button for the fifth floor for her apartment.

"Arghhhh!", Terry left a loud groan in response to his mother's gesture. "And no gorilla sounds either!", she added with an eloquent accent. She gave him a wide smile, looking as radiant as ever.

"If you keep pestering me...I swear! I'll lock myself back to my flat!", he threatened her when she was unlocking the door. They came into the luxurious spaces of her apartment. She walked briskly towards the grant parlour overlooked the park. Her kitten heels echoed on the polished mahogany floors as she asked him to follow her. Bright late spring sunlight was coming through the big windows. She opened them for the light breeze to air the room. She prompted him to sit on her reclining chair which was placed in the shade close to one of the windows.

Took the crutches from him and held his arms as he sat down, stretching his leg on the chair. "Make yourself comfortable darling...I'll make us some tea", she said sounding overly happy.

Terry might had broken his ankle but Eleonor revelled in the chance to spoil him rotten despite making him uncomfortable by her doing so. Long gone the teenage hate he felt towards her. They weren't the typical mother-son couple by any means. He still minded his own business and had made it imperative for Eleonor to do the same if she wanted him in her life. Though, deep down, he didn't mind for the odd spoiling. He just enjoyed in those rare moments to keep his act up. After all, it was not to his advantage to give her more encouragement than he was giving her. Give one inch and she'll take a mile...that was his motto where Eleonor was concerned so he was saving up that inch only for special moments like this one now. Once the news about his injury was confirmed there wasn't any other way to go. He would have to let his mother take charge.

Robert having kept a grunt towards him since the night before, broke a smile only when she suggested to take care of him. He knew Terry. He knew, he would swear his days through under her care. So, if there was some Divine Justice that would teach him a lesson not to be irresponsible with his life that would have to be in the hands of Eleonor.

She came back after several minutes with the tea trolley, accompanied by scones and other tea assortments that would feed a small group of friends rather than just a famous Broadway actress who kept her weight in check and her frustrated son. She poured some tea for him and placed it to his hands. She took hers and sat on an armchair opposite him.

"Can you tell me how you lost your mind last night Terry?", she asked him, lacing her voice with the parental disapproval of his action.

"Had things in my mind", he said, cringing inside for knowing she had started the third degree with him.

"What things...? Your trip to London...?", she asked him again taking a sip from her tea.

Sure as hell, he didn't want to talk about that with her. Given his state though, she would have to drive him everywhere...and he had a visit planned in his mind for the next day before the chauffeur would drive them to Martha's Vineyard, to Eleonor's holiday cottage. She would know then that something was up, so he decided to let her in his secret.

"I found Susanna's diary yesterday", he said as-a-matter-of-fact.

The surprise of his confession turned into a startled expression on her face. Not something she expected, or something she wanted to hear from him. The way Terry blurred it out without a fight startled her even more. "Oh dear God! Her diary!? How? Where?", she asked him once she settled her heartbeat down.

Terry looked at her. He had to endure all that now. "Bloody luck, that's how!", he thought, without wanting to start swearing out loud in front of his mother again.

"I was cleaning up...found it in a secret compartment in one of the bedroom drawers", he replied to her question, keeping his voice on one level, hoping she might get bored eventually.

"And?!", she kept asking him questions, since Terry was known of his few words.

"And...what do you think Eleonor?!", he replied, feeling flustered. The itch on his leg was getting worse on top of all that awkward "chat" with her. "Jesus! You ask some things! What do you expect Susanna was writing in her diary?!", he added with a raised voice, cutting all possibilities for her to ask anything more.

She saw Terry's mood shifting to clear anger and pressed her lips on her stern face. He took a deep breath and let out a sigh, deciding to tell her once and for all the whole story surpassing her incessant questions. "She said about me, what a bastard I was to her...that's what I had in my mind when I got lost, ok? Happy now?", he asked her, trying to calm down.

"I'm sorry sweetheart...I didn't know...", she apologised to him with her eyes reflecting sadness for her son's story with the actress. It was painful for her beyond belief to see him struggle and torture himself like he did but there wasn't anything she could do. He was extremely private and he had made his wishes clear. No interfering or else...

Granted. She had come to accept with much regret, she was not the mother Terry had deserved in the past. Once Terry arrived in New York and announced her he wanted to try it out as an actor, although it made her nervous, it was also one of her happiest memories. Her refusal however to reveal in public he was her son, a long time ago, when he was growing up as the bastard son of Duke Grandchester in England, had done its damage. Terry accepted her in his life but on two conditions, the main one being his independence and the second to keep her secret intact. After all those years of her refusing to acknowledge him, he was conditioned to feel more normal without having to talk about his parents in public. It suited him even better in regards to acting. If a whiff had escaped about their relationship, there would have been plenty of willing people to dismiss his career as being built on the back of the famous Eleonor Baker. No, she couldn't have jumped onto the wagon of motherhood even if she wanted to. Not after what he'd been through...being her hidden son. His life was his life and hers was hers. No mingling the two. That was his stance and Eleonor had to take it without negotiations if she wanted to keep in contact with him.

"You didn't know...well now you do Eleonor...", he said, his voice trailing off to chasing thoughts in his mind. He took a cigarette out from his packet and lit it. He took the first drag and his head fall back to the comforts of the recliner. He turned his eyes back to her. He should be grateful she was there for him, and she deserved an apology.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you. Your son is one grumpy fuc-", he said with a soft voice, stopping before another swear word would leave his lips.

Her eyes, blue like the summer sky, smiled once again. "I'm sorry Terry...I should let you in peace...sorry for pestering you like that...", she apologised also to him, making amends for both their behaviours.

"Ohhh...you're a pest alright...", he teased her and turned his head away from her, chuckling.

She joined him with a light laugh feeling relieved the atmosphere had turned to a lighter one. After all it would be great having Terry under her care for a little while, two weeks in fact. Grumpy or not, he was her son.

Lynedoch Street, London's East End

At Billy's home

They came in the house like two men in a mission. Billy was leading the way, heading to the kitchen. Kids were to grandparents, wife at the bingo hall, the place was empty. Inside the kitchen, he paused. Kneeled in front of one of the lower cupboards, the one next to the stove. He opened it and started emptying it from the pots and pans the wife was keeping there. He then took a knife, jammed it into the edges of the wooden panel, being the bottom of the cupboard. With little force and perseverance, the panel was unstuck. He lifted it up a bit, put his fingers underneath and gave it a good yank, taking it off completely from inside. A hollow gap was left behind, revealing part of the kitchen's stone floor. He turned and looked at Christian who was waiting behind him.

"Ready mate?", he asked him.

Christian opened the satchel and emptied its contents on the table. He took out the fake bottom of the bag last. With a slow careful move he took out a folded piece of cloth.

"Giz us a look at watcha got there", Billy told him sounding keen to have a quick peek.

He gave him a wicked smile, giving him the cloth. Billy put it on the floor and unfolded it. The diamonds came into view and sparkled like stars in his eyes, filling them with light. There were all kinds of jewellery in there. Gold bracelets, diamond rings, pearl strings.

"Man...a lo' o' good will come out o' those...", he said, folding the cloth back to as it was.

He took the bundle and shoved it deep in the hollow bit under the cupboard.

"Satisfied?", Christian asked him while he was putting his things back in the satchel.

"You're kidding?! People are poor. Those bastards walk round with thousands o' dosh on them", Billy said back to him with a strained voice by the effort he was putting to place the wooden panel firmly back to its place. He gave it a few knocks to ensure the fit was tight, put all the contents of the cupboard back to their place and closed the door. He got up, pushed his hair back and looked at Christian. He was ready to go.

"So...wha' was it you wanted to say to me?"

Christian took a deep breath. It wouldn't be easy to say and Billy for sure wouldn't be happy. But he had decided on it. "I'm through with "black feathers" Billie mate", he said with a determined voice.

His mouth was hanging open. For a couple of seconds he fluttered his eyelids in disbelief and started pacing up and down the small room. "Wha' do you mean you're through?", he asked him while moving, "Le' me roll a fag here", he stopped and sat down, taking the pouch out with quick nervous movements.

"Man, I had it...I need out...I have a girlfriend now...", he tried to make him see his point. Billy's eyes lifted from his half rolled cigarette to Christian.

"You had lots of girlfriends!", he protested.

"It's different with this one...", he retorted to his friend's words. His eyes squinted like he was sizing up Christian's words, the moment he took a long drag in with a hissing sound coming through his teeth.

"Get it...that's wha' you meant by "missus had problems"...she wants you on the straight an' narrow...", he said with a disapproving tone in his voice.

"Leave it...you don't understand...I said I want out and I mean it!", he raised his voice, not being able to help his frustration rising inside. Billie flicked the ash of his cigarette, staring at the dirty ashtray.

"Once a crook...always a crook...", he mumbled between his teeth. His words didn't have the time to travel in the air. Christian grabbed him from the collar and pulled him up in an instance, leaving his cigarette burning in the ashtray. He brought his face close to his, anger flashing inside his eyes.

"I was...never...a crook, you twat!", he let the words come out through his teeth one by one hitting his partner's face. "Find another man to put extra food on your plates!", he said and released him from his grip. Billy fell back to his chair, lost for words. His eyes, darkened by the scare Christian put to him, were still glued at the figure of the man pacing in his kitchen.

He understood where he was coming from. Indeed, he wasn't a crook in the broader sense of the word. He didn't even keep any of the loot. Everything was going towards the poor Londoners who were struggling to make ends meet. As he used to put it, laughing about it, he was only redistributing wealth. Or so he thought...

As with everything else in the world, good intentions were not enough. Not even when the end justified the means in his case. Christian, or the Raven as he was known in society's circles who did not frequent glammed up parties and extravagant events in mansions dripping in wealth, may had been their "Robin Hood" figure, for a fair while and indeed, the first couple of loots had all gone towards feeding the most destitute and helpless of the city. And that was a good thing in Billy's books or anyone else's books who came to benefit from what he was doing. But in jobs like this, handing just the loot and hope it gets to its course...after a while, there was a lot of sniffing around in the underground circles. The ones with not such honourable intentions. The ones who pulled strings in other ways, without much care for human life. Of course, Christian's decision to delve in the poor underbelly of London city was his own based to whatever reasons he kept to himself. The result was the same though for all the Billies in London. It was a disaster...which he had to accept. What he was unsure about was about the ripples this decision would make in the darker corners of this city.

"O'right, o'right...Am sorry Chris, I take it back mate", he said in the end, picking up his cigarette between his fingers.

He turned and looked at him, having calmed down after the burst of anger he felt by what he thought was an unjust remark from him. "I'm sorry man...I can't seem to have the appetite for it anymore...", he said to him as he was ready to leave.

"I 'ave to warn you tho. People will star' asking abou' him...Some may not be very nice...", Billie commented, wanting to warn him.

"Let them...I'll keep in touch alright?", he said to his friend.

He stood up feeling sad. That hidden loot would have to be the last help he would take care of spreading around. He would make sure the best he could, not to let it fall in the wrong hands this time. "So this is it...", he said looking at him.

"This is it...", he extended his hand towards Billy. He grabbed it and pulled Christian close. The two men hugged and patted each other on the back.

"Will keep in touch...an' thanks...for everything", he said to Christian before he let him go.

"See you after", he said back to him and left the house.

Out on the streets, Christian jumped on his bike, taking the road back home. It was a bittersweet feeling he bore inside. "Black feathers" would fly to obscurity. He took a deep breath, speeding through the streets, leaving people, shops and houses behind. Like life. Things come and things go. That was the norm. For him, it was a good move. He was moving up with his painting and had his woman by his side.

Though their relationship strained right now by what he said to her the night before, he hoped they would be ok.

Once she revealed to him that she and her ex-boyfriend broke up because of his "honourable duty" to shift his attention to another woman, Christian could not help it. At that moment, if he had that guy in front of him, he was sure he would knock him down.

"Honourable duty...bollocks, Rose!", he said and stood up, having sat down long enough to hear such bullshit. She had widened her eyes to his reaction. But she didn't leave his angry statement unanswered. She became pretty angry herself.

How had he dared say such a thing? Wasn't enough she had told him? Did he have to lower what her ex-boyfriend did? He had apologised on the spot but he remained adamant to his position. "Is there any greater duty than to stick by the love of your life...? Through thick-an-thin? Rain or shine?", he had asked her.

She had reminded him that they were young."Well if that's so...then you were young and stupid...and now you have built this love to mythic proportions just because it ended this way...", he said without seeing any other way about it.

She stood up, nostrils flaring with anger and eyes that glimmered. She said it was a mistake she told him...she would stand there no more than another minute to hear him throwing insults. She grabbed her purse and her jacket and left without saying anything else. He had run behind her, stopping at the door, saying he was sorry but she hadn't turned.

He arrived to his flat, came in but he didn't like the silence. He was missing her. He thought of calling her again. Still he refrained. He had called her earlier, after the flowers he had send her in the morning. At least she was talking to him. He asked her if he would see her but she said that she was in bed nursing a cold. She was lying...he knew it when she insisted that she would be fine...there wasn't a big reason for him to visit her in her miserable state. For the time being he left her on her own. He gave her the benefit of a doubt, at least he acted like he was and he would try again the next day.

Before he had hung up, he had said he was sorry about the night before putting all his regret into the tone of his voice. She had said she knew he was sorry...and so was she...

He wasn't going to give up on her that easily though...

1st May 1925

Ardley's Business offices, London

Two days had passed since his bust up with Candy. His appearance bore the effects still from that day because he looked knackered and drained. Work kept him busy but the rest of the days remained empty and the nights sleepless. Dark shadows had made their appearance under his eyes, the paleness of emotional and physical tiredness evident on his face.

How could he pick up the phone or go around her place...he didn't know if he could do it. He remained firm on his opinion. What she had done that night was unacceptable. His head though would try to find excuses that made him angry, turning him back to what he believed with much renewed fervour. For the past couple of days, he was going constantly through those same motions. On top of that, he had to endure Annie's phone call conversations where he put the pretence up, Candy was fine, sending her regards, everything being just fine and boring really given that work ate away most of his time. Her voice would be sad and flat, punishing him for leaving her behind and at the same time laying down the guilt mortar-thick of needing him back in Chicago but he was thousands of miles away.

It was late evening in London and he was still in his office. He was completely alone. He didn't have the heart of going back to his empty hotel room. He would actually need to find and rent a place of his own but right now he was desperate to talk to someone, have a glass of wine and relax, forget his troubles for a little while for goodness sake. He was staring at Isabel's card while he kept flicking it through his fingers. He hadn't forgotten her since that night. Having acted in front of her with such an outburst of anger made him reluctant to contact her. Her words back then were also spot on which had made the wave of his anger more intense.

He didn't have a choice. He'd call her, ask her if she was free for a drink. Either that or lock himself inside his room again stewing over his argument with his cousin, drinking copious amounts of liquor in the process. Anyway he looked at it, meeting with Isabel could be the one good thing to happen in his misery right now. He would have to swallow his pride and do it, he thought as he dialled the call centre, waiting for the connection. His heart was beating faster with every second passing.

Mount Hope Cemetery,

Westchester County, New York

He stood in front of the grave, clutching a bunch of flowers for God knows how long. He was aware that his mother was waiting in the car but he couldn't care right now. He had taken a decision to visit Susanna's grave and he'd stay there for as long as it took him in order to do what he had in mind of doing. The things he wanted to say. He struggled to find words with the memory of her burial still fresh in his mind.

"Ashes to ashes...dust to dust...", the words of the priest back then kept turning inside, clouding his thoughts.

He felt his grip on the flowers turning moist. His palm was sweating.

They couldn't have picked a more sombre day to bury her a year and a half ago. Standing there, it felt to him like it was the day before. The fog was so thick you could see it floating with the bitter cold wind blowing through the trees in the cemetery. The gathered crowd around the coffin, stood quiet with her mother being the exception. Her painful sobs were following her daughter to her final resting place.

He remembered the black Ford hearse entering the cemetery. He was just standing right there when they lowered her coffin in, dressed in black, completely still. So still, he drew strange looks around him. No emotions twisted his face. No words were coming from his lips. His bloodshot, tired eyes were looking completely vacant. Didn't know what he was feeling. His heart was as if it was covered in the same fog of that morning of her burial. Sadness, anger, even guilt laden relief...he genuinely couldn't say.

Fast forwarding to the present, this warm spring day, the first of May, couldn't be any more different than that grey cold morning of December. Flowers bloomed on the tree branches. Bird songs in the air were the only sounds in this serene place that brought upheaval in his heart. He didn't need to read her diary to spell out the misery this woman fell, nor the agony from his part.

He had rehearsed in his mind what to say to her the previous night. Now, staring at the white washed tombstone, her name, lifespan, a few words spelled in black calligraphy, had pushed everything out of his head, in a way he felt stupid standing there, asking of peace for the both of them.

He decided just like her in her last entries of her journal, to whisper an apology. Those three words..."I am sorry"...brought bitter tears in the corners of his eyes, blurring the edges of her tombstone. He was sorry for not having stopped her infatuated fantasies before it was too late. Sorry for not being as strong as he wished to remain just a friend and not a husband-to-be in name. Sorry for not feeling a man's love for her. His heart poured out everything once the sound of his apology came from his lips.

The light breeze of spring made the petals of the flowers stacked together in the bouquet, to tremble. He felt at peace, as another kind of emptiness, calm in its nature, descended in his soul. He let the flowers fall gently in front of the stone. He whispered goodbye, hoping one day in another lifetime she would find happiness, and left.

"Are you alright Terry?", his mother asked him anxiously once he managed to get inside the car.

It was evident he had been crying and had taken his time to reach to this point. Eleonor observed her son with worry. "I'm fine...we can go...", he said with a heaviness in his voice. His mood was dark. Still, his heart felt like starting to breathe again, once he turned his eyes back, staring at the cemetery, the car leaving it behind in the distance.