Chapter 47
Terry shrugged his shoulders under the careful stare of Christian. He emptied the contents of his glass and called the waiter, asking him for one more whiskey. He took a cigarette out of the gold case and tapped its end on its surface, while thinking.
Oh! Terry had the acting down to the last detail. He placed the cigarette between his lips. Lit it with the lighter. Took a drag in.
"Nope. Ηe doesn't ring a bell." He said back to Stewart.
Stewart kept looking at Terry. He squeezed and narrowed his eyes down to them being just slits. "By Jove, I cannot remember his first name. Clarence?" He said as if talking to himself while examining Terry's profile. "Say you do have some resemblance, Terry."
"So what was with that Grandchester fella then?" Paul asked and placed his bet.
"Oh big scandal chaps, it was. College buzzed for weeks!...they found him with a girl on a night at the stables. Of course, him being who he was, they expelled the girl, but he took her place instead." He shared the old gossip. "The guy was the son of the Duke of Grandchester, we are talking about big balls aristocracy here!" He took the pipe from his mouth and tapped it on the ashtray, before stuffing it with more tobacco.
"You should have seen him beg the head of the college, Sister Grey..."
"I remember Sister Grey..." Terry all of sudden said.
"Who could forget Sister Grey! I hate to admit it, I was one of her lackeys. How else could I survive St. Paul's? Was out of her office all the time, she used to send me to do errands for her...to spy even..." Stewart laughed out loud. "My God, she was like a guard and executioner all rolled into one."
Terry laughed. He could see Christian being all ears to the story Stewart was narrating. "But really you don't remember any of that?" Stewart asked Terry again.
"I do remember some of it..." Terry said again, feeling hungry for the adrenaline rush of telling his story under Christian's nose. "Wasn't it the girl's name Candy?"
"Oh! But yes! She was! Candy...Candy...Candice, Sister Grey was shouting at her a lot!" the guy said and lit his pipe again.
"Pretty girl she was..." Terry said with a wicked smile.
"Another weirdo." Stewart said.
Terry raised his brows. Everyone did!
What was so weird about that girl?
The bets had been all placed. They waited for Stewart to finish the story before they would reveal their cards. "She was! Gossip had it that she lived more on the trees than on the ground. She was an orphan adopted by this rich American family."
Terry's insides twisted as if a knife had been plunged into his belly. That he didn't expect to be revealed. He felt hot under the collar. Tried to think of this rationally. So what if he said Candy was American...Weren't there other American girls? Annie for one, she was adopted orphan from the States.
"Really, Dickens wouldn't have been able to write her story better." Stewart said and looked at Terry once again.
"Nah...You're not him..." He said on his own. "Grandchester was scruffy - shirt always out, boots always with dry mud up to the ankles. He loved horses, that guy. Detested the barber and Sister Grey had always complained about his hair."
Terry turned to him, fixed his eyes on Stewart's face. He remembered the man. Fat kid, waiting, sitting on a chair outside Grey's office. They were classmates. Was sitting second desk from the end, two desks away from his. A real slob he was. Having the nerve to call him scruffy...
"Grandchester was the terror of the college. He would burst into the church service, whip on his hands, a crazy gleam on his eyes and all and threw these amazing insults to the nuns and the priest...A real character I tell you."
"I do remember Grandchester, now..." Terry said and opened his cards. Three aces...
"Aces full" He said with a smile. Playing against Christian, while talking about his old life...was even better than drugs. He relished the feeling, even if Stewart revealed more than what he wanted him to reveal.
"I had a thing about that girl...Candy." Terry said, while he still smiled with the strong hand he had revealed.
Christian revealed his hand. Double pairs.
"Too bad." Edward said. "Terry wins, again!"
"But I get to keep the girl..." Christian said slowly with intent before downing the remnants of his glass. Looked at Terry. "Lucky at cards, unlucky in love..."
"That's how the saying goes." Terry said. Despite, Christian's comments becoming all the more grating, for he felt frustration starting to simmer to something more serious, he tried his best to deflect them, as if they meant nothing to him.
"Chris, you must have drunk a lot, pal. What are you talking about? No one is taking your Rose." Paul turned and said to him.
The bell in the room next door rang. It was getting to midnight. Though all public houses serving alcohol were to be closed, Buck's club only locked its doors. Gentlemen inside could continue drinking till the small hours of the night.
"Oh, one never can be too certain..." Christian said again, and waved to the waiter. He ordered one more round of whiskeys. It was his turn to deal the cards. Terry swept all the chips from the table, once more. Christian shuffled the deck. Mixed the cards well. Gave to Terry to cut.
"Your cut, your luck..." He said slowly.
"Let the chips fall where they may, Chris." Terry replied.
"Hey you two...I hope you don't draw pistols to duel..." Edwards noticed the tense air between the two guys.
"A little heat to get the blood pumping is good, no?" Terry turned and said to Edward, before his gaze turned to Christian. He half smiled to him and started dealing the hands.
"All's good guys." He said.
"So what happened with Candy, then Terry...?" Steward asked him as he got his first card thrown towards him.
"She didn't look at me much, Stew. She loved Grandchester." He said and lit up a cigarette.
"So that's what happened then...Caught them screwing at the stables..." Christian said out loud, while dealing the second hand. If nothing worked, anger would.
"Oh come on!" Nicholas said, "You've got a dirty mind Christian." He said.
"Well why not? What else could it be...?" Christian said and took a big gulp from his whiskey. He dealt the second hand to the table. "Terry here said that Candy loved Grandchester...Stewart said they caught them in the stables and they expelled her but the fella took her place and left..."
"She wasn't that kind of girl..." Terry said slowly, feeling his breath thick in his throat. He took a gulp from his drink too. He looked at his two cards. Took a long drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke out. A storm was gathering inside his eyes.
"I bet she was a right little minx..." Christian said and laughed. "All women are, with the right man..."
There was a collective sound of pulling air through their teeth. The guys knew. Christian had started playing dirty. And when he did, it meant he had been angry with something. Everyone thought that this was because Terry had simply turned the bank upside down and had won almost every single round of poker.
Christian took another gulp of whiskey. He narrowed his stare. He stood outside the light that the big lamp above the table was casting. The grey inside his eyes darkened. They looked almost black, from where Terry was. He was going to take this to the limit. "How do you think I managed to get my Scarlet Rose?" He asked having a wicked expression on his face.
There was a complete silence on the table. He had taken it a step too far. But for Terry...Christian's words cut so, as if a bucket of boiling water had poured over him. He felt like he was breathing fire. He tossed the end of his cigarette in the ashtray. Finished his drink. His whole body had turned into this live wire, that sparked with electricity. If it was the two of them, he would beat Christian to a pulp. He really would. His abdominal muscles tensed so, he found it difficult to take a proper breath. He had to find the control he needed to speak.
He opened his wallet, and took out a bunch of bank notes. He had no idea, if and how much would his share be for the drinks or anything else. He really had no appetite to sit any longer. The muscles on his jaw twitched. There were lightning inside his eyes. He tried to steady himself. He threw them on the table.
"Gentlemen, I'm off. It's been a pleasure but I must leave you be." He said without looking at anyone in particular, especially Christian who he could murder on the spot.
The guys were all stunned apart from Christian...Terry stood up, uttered a dry goodnight and left them.
"That was way below the belt, Chris..." Nicholas said to a thoughtful Christian.
He got up. Told the guys to wrap up the game themselves. Took some money off his wallet too and left them on the table. He left the room and went down the stairs. Terry had already left the club. He run on the pavement. The sky was dark with only a half moon lighting the night through the clouds. He saw Terry's figure walking towards his car.
"I know why you are here, Graham!" He yelled at him.
Terry stood still, with his back facing Christian. He tightened his fists.
"She has moved on, you know." He added.
"Is that so?" Terry replied.
"I give her what she needs, Terry. You just weren't man enough to keep her by your side!"
There was no more that Terry could have heard. The next thing that thumped in his ears was his own heartbeat, the rush of blood swooshing in his veins. He turned. Rushed towards Christian and fell on him like a ton of bricks, pushed him back to the wall, his hands having grabbed Christian by the lapels of his jacket. He pressed Christian's body to the wall. He could strangle him. He was only seeing red in front of him.
"For what you've said upstairs alone I could kill you right here and I'll enjoy it, I'll do it with pleasure, God my witness." His voice was strained, there wasn't much that kept him from doing something that he wouldn't be able to reverse.
"Go ahead." Christian said. "I've dealt with worse men than you Terry."
Terry's eyes dived inside Christian's. Hot rage bubbled inside their breaths of whiskey and cigarettes.
"You can kill me but you won't be able to change what's true." He said. "You are just old news pal."
"Bastard." Terry's voice came from deep inside his gut. The vein on his neck pulsated. His fist landed on his opponent's face. Christian took the hit and his body swung sideways by the force of Terry's punch. He looked back up at him, eyes glaring. Brought his hand over his nose. It was bleeding.
"You don't deserve her asshole." Terry hissed.
"And you do?!" Christian laughed. His eyes sparkled in the soft moon light.
"I'm respecting the blood she gave on the night you were almost dead." Terry said as he took a couple of steps back. He sweated. He shivered from the intensity of his feelings. He pushed his hand through his hair.
"I'm out of here." He whispered breathless. He went into his car, leaving Christian still standing at the pavement. Turned the engine on, the wheels span on the road before he disappeared in the night.
6th of July 1925 (Monday)
Christian woke up with the world weighing down on him. He had a headache, a bruise over his left cheekbone and a foul mood. He got up and dragged his feet to the living room. Put the kettle on the stove while he splashed his face on the kitchen sink. The cold water felt refreshing, though his cheek was sensitive to touch. Terry had a quite strong right hook it seemed. To the thought of him, the dull throbbing pain on his temples intensified. No, he wouldn't think of him. He wouldn't give him the time of day to get into his head. Mess more with it, than what he already had done. He tensed up, his muscles hugged his bones tight.
He prepared the tea. Threw a robe on his body and took the cup to the table. Sat down and rolled a cigarette, while the smell of the hot earl grey hit his nostrils. He preferred to think of Rose. If Terry's real identity was shocking for him, only now he managed to even attempt to comprehend what Rose must had felt those past few weeks. She must have felt as if she was under siege with Terry always around. No wonder she was tense. The bastard had left her in the past and she had to pick up the pieces and carry on...Now that he was free again, he thought he could carry on from where he left. The same anger he had felt last night, started rising again on the surface, like the steam from the boiled water inside the kettle.
Since he was to leave in three weeks' time, Christian felt in a hurry. The talk with Rose about them leaving London for the isle of Barra came in his mind stronger than ever. There was no time to lose in essence. He'd have to show up to the bloody Hamlet play with his girl since he had kept tickets for them. He had been keen to watch Hamlet. And he would get to watch the play with Rose, the two of them and no one else. So it was ideal but just the thought of being indebted to Terry...that had his gears ground big time. For Rose alone, he would play along. And go to the theatre. But where her ex was concerned, he'd try to have as less contact as possible. He'd make sure that Rose was the same. She didn't need that emotional upheaval in her life, especially now. He drunk his tea and felt better. Always felt better when he put a plan in action.
He got dressed. Left his flat with two things in mind. To send a telegraph to Mrs. Burns at Barra to book that cottage he had stayed before on that drawing trip of his and then book their train tickets to Glasgow. By the time he and Rose would return, this creep would have returned back to his life in New York.
She had just got off the phone with Christian. To her big relief, their poker night had been fun. Nothing worse than guys getting wound up over some cards and some chips on the table. A lot of jabs and calling names...the usual he had said. Their evening out at Kit-Kat had been fun too. Usual Sunday night, same crowd, nothing special. She had breathed a sigh of relief. The big drama she feared that could take place, never materialised.
Christian was to run some errands. And then he would leave, camp out at the Grantchester meadows till Wednesday. Weather had been a blessing. And he hadn't focused to his painting for quite some time now. He had to snatch his opportunity, now that his exhibition had gone well and a respectful number of paintings had been sold. Keep his name out there. The exhibition was to wrap up at the end of that week. So he had been keen. She could sense it in his voice over the phone. She would have to pass by the theatre to pick up the tickets. Terry had said, he would have left them at the reception. Easy enough - she wouldn't even have to see him.
So, why her stomach was tied into a knot on her way there? She scolded herself. She wasn't going to see him. She would just take a few steps inside the theatre, speak to the man at the reception and pick up the tickets. She was behind the wheel of her Ford T. Since that fateful second kiss between them, she was risking turning mad with her mind working overdrive and her senses all in high alert. She longed for some calmness. By driving, at least, she had to keep being focused on the street and the traffic, which didn't leave much space for other thoughts. She had rolled the window down. The morning breeze caressed her neck. She had dressed very quickly with whatever she had found in front of her. A high-waisted pair of forest green flared trousers and a white cotton short-sleeved fitted shirt. Her hair were all over the place, needed washing, so she kept them in place with the sunglasses she had slipped over them like a hair band. She hadn't even bothered with makeup either. She was still sunburned so she slapped a generous amount of almond cream all over her body, including her face. Her skin may had been glowing and she may have smelled like marzipan but at least she felt comfortable.
It wasn't a straight forward morning for Terry. He literally had to drag himself out of bed. Not to mention he had woken up late. He ordered to have the bell boy bring up to his room just a large cafetière of the blackest coffee possible and a serving of toasted bread with butter. And a jug of water. Nothing else. He hadn't had a hangover for months and it was as he had banged his head to the wall all night long. He washed, had a quick shower. Threw the bath robe over his body and opened the door for the breakfast trolley. He tipped the young guy and sat down at the table. From the opened window, he gazed at the London rooftops and the countless chimneys, all shining under the summer sun. When had London summers as good as this one? The knuckles on his right hand were sore. He rubbed his hand inside the other. Remembered the previous night. The punch...Christian's words. His lips tensed. Took a sip from the hot coffee. Lit a cigarette.
Finally, and without knowing exactly how, the cat was out of the bag. Terry doubted Christian realised his true identity - Richard Grantchester's bastard son - nor he had realised Rose and Candy had been the same girl. Nevertheless, and despite that misconnection, Christian was right for one thing. He had come back for her and nothing else. Foolish as it may had been, it was done and he was there. He wondered if Candy knew. Would Christian tell her what had happened? He sure meant what he had said to him back at the dressing room.
Make a move to Rose and I'll break your legs
It was Terry who had given the first blow, but he had no doubt. Christian could and would answer back. On purpose he had pushed him last night to lose his temper. Based on some suspicion and the fact he and Candy went to the same school...he had to find out. And he had succeeded. What he said...gave shivers to Terry, even half a day after. He would gladly repeat what he had done last night. But he had to give him credit, for one thing. He sought the answer. Terry would have done exactly the same thing. Find the answer, whatever the cost.
Then the phone rang. Just before he was going to have breakfast.
"It's a long distance phone call sir. Please wait to connect you." He heard the cable girl on the line. Who would that be? His mother?
"Terry...it's Archie, here."
He was taken aback, so much so, his brows almost touched as they came close together. Archie?!
"What the heck do you want? And I've got a bone to pick with you, mate." Terry said back to him, even if deep down after what had transpired, there was a degree of comfort into hearing his voice, right then.
The phone call lasted for the good part of twenty minutes, close to half an hour even. By the time Terry put the phone down, he didn't return to the half-drunk coffee and the toast. He went straight inside the bedroom, got dressed and left for the theatre.
Candy left her car parked at the front of the theatre. Got out, and entered the building. She walked to the reception. She saw the man behind the desk.
"Good morning sir." She said and smiled at him.
The man returned the greeting.
"I believe you must have a couple of tickets reserved for Rose White and Christian Blake for the Wednesday evening performance."
"Ah! Indeed Miss White." He said with a smile. "Can you please wait for five minutes, I'll go to fetch them."
Candy smiled back to the guy, thanked him and saw him, disappear inside the auditorium. She started pacing inside the big entrance hall, staring at various photographs of actors and actresses that had graced the Royal Theatre stage. She heard steps closing by. The door behind her opened.
"Good morning Candy." She heard his smooth voice and her skin pimpled, as if she was hit by electricity.
"Hi Terry." She turned to face him, even if she was reluctant even to throw him a glance. He looked tired and serious.
"Can you please come with me Candy?" He asked her and saw the reluctance and the apprehension in her eyes, the moment he asked. "Please, it is something I'd rather say to you in private and it won't take long."
She nodded and he showed her the stairs for the Grant Circle level. She followed him. They stopped and he walked towards a closed door. Took a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door. They came inside a quite posh, well-decorated room with a fireplace, a couple of gold gilded chairs with the royal crown in gold thread embroidered on them, a writing bureau. She looked at him confused when he asked her to step in.
"It's the Royal receiving room. They had it build for Queen Victoria..." He said. "It's the most private room in the theatre."
She felt nervous. What was that he wanted to say to her that required such privacy? She turned to see him as he closed the door behind them.
"Please sit." He said.
"I prefer to be standing Terry, if you don't mind."
He took the tickets out the inside pocket of his jacket. "Your tickets." He said and gave them to her.
"I hope you didn't bring me to Queen Victoria's room to give me the tickets."
"No, you are right..." He said. He struggled to find the most appropriate way to say what he had learned from Archie.
"Our darling Christian is involved with London gangs, Terry..." He had said to him.
They had fought for this outside the hospital. All those absurd ideas of Archie. Terry had been convinced they stemmed out of Archie's intense dislike for Christian. He had sighed when he heard Archie's words. Having phoned him long distance from France early in the morning. His obsession was getting out of hand, one could say. However, the tone in his voice this time was more than serious. It contained a certainty the gravity of which was impossible to dismiss. Archie had felt Terry's resistance to believe.
"I hired a private detective Terry..."
"What the hell Archie?!" Terry had yelled over the phone. He had been certain that their little quarrel that night at the hospital had something to do with it. Archie had to be right. He needed to be right, when Terry insulted him.
"He reported to me just an hour ago, Terry." Archie had continued. "My man has followed his movements since he left from the hospital...in fact...when we all were at the theatre on Monday night, he went with a guy to Blind Beggar and went to some secret room at the back of the bar."
The more Archie narrated Christian's visit to MacDonald that evening, the more Terry's stare turned to serious.
"The man, Terry, who was with Christian, is one of the henchmen of Charles MacDonald, the most notorious gangster in London, Terry."
The tone in Archie's voice became urgent and scared even. Apparently, he hadn't expected Christian to be at this level, deep into the underworld of London. What he does with his life, I don't care - that's what he told Terry. But Candy is with him, Terry...
Archie continued for a while. He also said how there was some contact of Christian with Alice Diamond, MacDonald's lover, with her own great reputation amongst the criminal circles. On Sunday...
Terry had heard enough. He was clearly wrong about Christian. Whether to confront him alone, he had to think about it, but Candy needed to know. However painful this could be.
"I don't know how to say this Candy." He said while he paced in the room, clearly bearing something rather serious.
"You're scaring me Terry..." She said, her heart beat accelerated in anticipation.
"Christian is involved with dangerous criminals Candy." He stopped pacing and just said it, his blue eyes fixed firmly on her.
"What?!" Her eyes widened in response. This was something that she hadn't expected Terry to say. "How? Who said? What?!" It was her turn to pace in the room, while no coherent sentence had come out of her mouth. She stopped and took a deep breath.
"It is true Candy..." He said.
Anger descended in her eyes. "Says who..?" She asked. "You?"
"I don't like your tone, Candy..." He warned her slowly. "I know it's difficult to take in...Archie called me."
"Archie...ARCHIE?!" She raised her voice, flouncing her arms as she walked. She should have expected this. Archie hated Christian. He really did. Since their first encounter in the tango club. Granted, Christian and she hadn't kept that much of a graceful decorum that night, scandalously making out at a dark corner, leaving the place like sex starved lovers, without telling him a word. She understood that, and had apologised. Christian had been understanding also and they both had cooled their public showings of affection. But there was no change in Archie's opinion. In his mind, all those conspiracy theories about Christian had sprung and how he must had something hidden, given his aloof, not that talkative character. And where was he disappearing? Especially since the party night that was organised on his honour for the exhibition...Christian was talkative all right! With her, and others, but not with Archie. Because Archie was giving him grief all the time. He didn't even bother showing his feelings. She thought Terry was much more understanding. But it sure didn't look this way.
"Archie is dangerously close to becoming an obsessive, Terry! He hates Christian! Hates him with passion!" She shouted.
His eyes were following her moving. Hands on hips, he tried to stay calm. "Freckles, I know...I argued with him about it." He said. She stopped pacing and looked at him. He knew how to catch her attention. "He put a private detective, so please listen to me."
"HE did WHAT?" She said, with her arms stretched down, palms open, trying to grasp all that Terry was telling her. "Tell me this is a joke, Terry!" She said, her green eyes diving into his.
"It is not..."
She felt she was breathing fire. "Christian was seen with associates of MacDonald - Candy he's the biggest gang leader in London. He met with his lover too, a woman named Alice..."
"Have you ever thought he may making all that up, Terry?" She said, struggling to sound normal.
She felt very protective of Christian. He wasn't even there to defend himself. He had told her about his gambling debts. That could be it. But Archie had made it sound like Christian had been having this double life of darkness and crime. Her stomach turned. She felt sick.
"Trust me, I know Archie. He can be strong-headed to get his point across but he wouldn't go to the length of inventing a gang world with names and whatnot Candy." He said.
"And I suppose...you feel happy about this, right?" She blurted, her stare burning up. She felt ready to burst into tears. Had they forgot, he was stabbed trying to stop someone only ten days ago? He had nearly died then. Terry of all people had given his blood for him and now.
His grip of his hips strengthened, the tips of his fingers turning white.
"Careful with your words Candy...I'm not the bad person here." He said very slowly, breathing deep.
"Are you not?"
"No, I'm not!" He said again.
"And what are you then, Terry?" She said, turning her defence to attack. She was fed up. All that pressure she felt, and the tension and the conflict inside her, rolled into one big angry ball and was swinging inside her, demolishing everything in its way.
"Freckles don't make this about something else!"
"Stop calling me Freckles!" She shouted, the vein on her neck popping out. Her face had turned red and her eyes were gleaming with tears. "I'm not your Freckles Terry! I'm nobody's Freckles!"
He grabbed her by the shoulders. She was getting out of control. And he was pushing him again to places he didn't want to go.
"Listen to me stupid woman!" He said to her, feeling the rope he was on was so taut, it was about to break. "I don't care about him, I care about you damn it!" She looked at him the moment he stopped shaking her like a doll between his hands. Hot angry tears were coming down her cheeks.
"And what would you have me do Terry? Break up with him?"
He didn't believe what he was hearing.
"So I can fall in your arms? What? You being my rescuer?...poor little stupid Candy. Is that what you think?" Her voice bitter, she was crying hot tears, she was laughing, she did, anger and sadness embracing, fighting, longing for something she had wished for so long... "I fell for the wrong man, trying to get over my love for you. Is this what you want me to say?"
He remained silent. His face having turned to stone.
"IS IT?! Her laughing became louder, her cheeks the colour of poppies in the rain.
The rope broke, it unleashed this wave of anger inside Terry he hadn't felt before. It happened in a split of a second, before he even comprehended it, to reign it in. He raised his hand and slapped her across the face. Cutting the laughter and the tears, the shouting like a knife. They stayed frozen in their places, looking at each other. He lowered his head.
"Go Candy."
She didn't move. Her heart felt dead. She had said things she shouldn't have.
"What are you waiting?!" He struggled to be heard. A lump stood in his throat. "RUN" He yelled.
There was nothing more to be said. He had dropped his arms down. A big empty space stood inside her, once the shouting stopped. The next sound he heard was the door shutting behind him. This time she hadn't run but he was the one who had told her to leave.
7th of July 1925 (Tuesday)
Tuesday night it was when she heard a knock at her door. She wondered whether it was Terry.
Since Monday morning, he hadn't given any signs of life, and neither had she. Did she believe all that he had told her? Partly yes. She already knew that Christian had been in trouble because of gambling debts. He had been beaten up for God sake. She had seen the bruises. Those bruises weren't done by kindergarten kids. Those were gang hits. That's why she had worried in the past, even before Terry or Archie for that matter even knew about Christian having dealt with London gangs. She had offered to help and he had refused her point blank. She was though so absolutely certain that he wouldn't put her in danger. There wasn't a moment she hadn't felt safe with Christian.
She got angry with Terry, yes. Perhaps more than it deemed necessary. She had come to regret the words she had said. But...but...Really what was he expecting her to do?
The fact that actually Archie had gone behind her back trying to dig up dirt for Christian by hiring a private detective, enraged her. And he had included Terry in his little scheme. Despite him telling her that he had argued with Archie. Commendable as it was, and it did catch her by surprise - it also meant that they had discussed many times about how Christian may had been a bad choice of man for her.
In other words, Archie because of his immense dislike for Christian, had taken Terry under his wing and decided to play a little Cupid by adverse psychology. That is why he was throwing all those comments in front of her about Terry and Marion and how things were blossoming between them so he would make her jealous, forget all about Christian and remember her love for Terry.
He actually was so stupid to think that she had forgotten about Terry. She never had. She never would forget him. When she yelled to Terry that she had fallen for another man in her struggle to get over her love for Terry, she had said the truth. She had reached though a point where she could have lived without him in her life. Life had become bearable, even happy she could have said. When she had declared her love to Christian the night he showed her his bruises, it wasn't complete lies. Part of her meant it, because by the time Terry showed un in London, she had come to realise that there was some space in her heart for another man. She would never be able to give her whole heart to another man nut she had been ready to give a part of her heart to Christian... The only man who had held her whole heart in his hands had been Terry.
She opened the door and here he was, standing there. He looked a bit dishevelled but happy nevertheless.
"Hi sweetheart..." He said with a smile.
"Hi love..." She said back and made way for him to come in. He carried his bag with the canvases. Paints of all colours were splattered over his trousers. He looked tanned in his white painter's shirt. There was a faint bruise on his left cheek. She touched it with her fingers as he leaned to kiss her. Alarm bells sounded inside her. Terry's words still fresh in her mind.
"What happened there love?" She asked him before he touched her lips.
"Your not so careful boyfriend fought with a tree and it punched him in the face with one of its brunches." He said, rolling his eyes from the drama of it all. She laughed and he stopped her laughing with a kiss he wanted to give her for two days he was away from her.
"It's so good to see you darling..." He said to her as they walked in the living room and left his bags down.
"It is good to see you too, Christian yes." She said back. She smiled but her stare hadn't been her signature carefree stare.
"Everything ok Rose?" He asked her.
"Yes Christian, everything is fine. Just tired I guess."
He had sat down on her favourite armchair. He opened his arms and invited her to come to him. She sat on his lap, left her head rest on his shoulder feeling his arms wrapping around her. The two of them against the world. That's how he felt then. Terry could try and steal her from him but he wouldn't let him.
"I've got you a surprise..." He said, his fingers caressing her hair, weaving them through her curls.
"Oh?"
"I've booked us the cottage on the Isle of Barra." He said to her. His mind was already there. "Remember you had asked me?"
"Yes, I do." She said.
"Well we're leaving in a week's time. Stay there for a couple of weeks...walk, paint, dance the two of us on the beach, make love..."
She felt the heat of his body diffusing on her. They would go then and when they would return, Terry would have been gone...She felt her throat closing up, the air she breathed rushing in, fanning the sadness that was spreading. The wind is wild, crazy, carrying love and taking it away.
"That would be nice." She whispered absent-minded, biting the nail of her thumb.
"It will." He said. She felt his lips warm on her forehead.
She seemed quiet. "Did you get the tickets from Terry for the theatre on Wednesday?"
"I did..." She said and raised her head to see him.
"Did he give them to you...?"
She didn't answer right away but searched inside his grey eyes. Wondering, whether there were secrets behind he hadn't told her.
"Christian...my love..." She started saying. "Remember those gambling debts you had confessed to me?" She raised her body upright, still sitting on his legs. "Have you sorted them out? Have you paid them back?"
He looked back at her with soft eyes. "Yes, everything is under control, Rose. I dealt with the man I owed the money to."
"Who was that man?" She asked all of a sudden.
He took a moment to answer but his eyes were still on hers. If only he could tell her everything...He wished he could, one day he would, but not now. He had tried so hard to keep everything together. To keep her safe. He had tried to break up with her but his heart hadn't let him do it.
"It's a man that, I wish you don't know about, Rose." He said sounding firm and serious. She saw the change in his eyes. Could this be the MacDonald guy, Terry had mentioned?
"Why did you ask me that, love?" He followed her with his eyes as she got up.
"Oh...I just wondered while you were away...with everything that happened." She said and disappeared inside the kitchen. He heard the sink tap turned on, she was pouring water in a glass.
"I didn't see Terry, no." She answered his question, raising her voice from the room next door. "He had left the tickets at the reception."
The hour was late at the Beaufort Bar of the Savoy. After they all had left the theatre, Robert and Barrymore were heading there. Usually Terry was doing his own thing which was to head to Claridge's where he stayed but alone he didn't want to be that night. His natural inclination when things weren't going well was to retreat inside and press the self-destruct button.
Exactly because he feared that his attraction to self-destruction was getting stronger - she was a woman of lethal charms that one, with long dark hair and eyes the colour of the blackest pits on earth, long blood red fingernails and a voice sweet, so sweet, a Siren, his Siren and Demon all rolled into one - once Robert asked him whether he would join them, he accepted. They also had to announce him something.
Among the dry Martinis and the whiskeys, and the busy ashtray, the three men were discussing everything under the sun. Robert's way to put Terry at ease before he asks.
"So everything fine with you Terry?"
Terry smiled. "I knew this was coming...See what I have to put up with, John?" He turned to the famous actor.
"Ah! It's the passage of youth, Terry!" He excused Robert's behaviour.
"I'm nearing thirty..." Terry said, feeling not so young. In fact he never felt young in his life.
"My mother still does it and I am ten years older than you..." He said lowering his voice so not to be heard revealing his age.
Terry's smile widened. Turned to Robert. "If I say to you the path to love has been laid with roses or thorns, which one would you believe true Robert?"
"I like this young man!" Barrymore exclaimed, sounding enthused. He ordered one more dry Martini from the waiter.
Robert however, knitted his eyebrows.
"In love, there is no holds barred!" Barrymore said again, clearly under the whispers of his Martinis and the smoke of his fine Cuban cigar.
"Easier said than done." Terry said and tapped his unlit cigarette on the cigarette case.
"Don't encourage him John!" Robert said.
"Nonsense! We only live once!"
John Barrymore perhaps knew this only too well. His second marriage to Blanche Oelrichs had failed in May. Wouldn't take him long to fall in love again.
"If your heart leads you to a certain woman, go for it my friend..." He continued and struck Terry on his shoulder, a little bit stronger than just a friend tap. Terry coughed and raised his brow.
"Just be careful, Terry." Robert said, sounding worried. Terry took a sip from his whiskey and a drag from his cigarette.
"I will...the play won't be ruined Robert."
Robert and Barrymore looked at each other. "I also have some news for you Terry." He turned and looked at his boss.
"Terry, you know of Sir Archibald Flower...?" Robert said.
"Yes, I know of him. He is the chairman of the Shakespeare Memorial Theatre*" (now known as Royal Shakespeare Theatre).
"This is unprecedented from all aspects..." Robert started saying.
Terry was all ears.
"He had heard of you, Terry." Robert said. "He was at the play last Saturday and we had a brief chat. "
"What about?" Terry asked.
"He had read your Hamlet reviews from our performances in New York. He looks to modernise the theatre company, add new blood..."
Terry's heart started beating faster in his veins.
"John here, very...very courteously agreed to let you take the Hamlet role tomorrow evening, Terry. Sir Flower will be in the audience." He stopped, and sucked his lips, while looking at Terry, gauging his reaction. He, for the moment, had remained silent. "That is the unprecedented..." He added, bobbing his head.
Terry's eyes from Robert moved to John who also had his stare on the young man. "The one hand, helping the other here."
"You see, Terry, Fate may not always be this bitch you are calling her." Robert said.
He felt overwhelmed. Perhaps for the first time in his life. "I don't know..." He said and his voice came out hoarse. He stopped to clear his voice and smiled. "I don't know what to say..." He looked at both again. "Thank you?"
Robert looked moved. His eyes sparkled. If Flower wanted Terry and Terry wanted to stay...that would have been the end for Terry's artistic road at the Stratford troupe. Where everything had started from. He tried to hold the tears back. He was a good boy, a good young man. Explosive at times, careless at others, with himself mostly, but he had a soul made of gold.
John saw them both, looking emotional. He had figured out the bond between them. He knew some of the things from Eleanor already.
"Now...if you can impress the girl just as you did with Archie Flower, Terry..."
His lips curved up. Light entered his eyes. "One thing at a time John..." He said. "Thank you, truly, in any case."
The three men cheered. Robert wished everything to work out for Terry. He had come a long way from the impulsive, dark mess he used to be when he joined the Stratford troupe but disaster was never far away from this man who was like a son to him, and hoped at least he had the strength not to be lost inside whatever storm may happen to blow in his life.