Chapter 54
Alice Diamond has always relied to herself for her whole life till the present. Yes, she may had been the lover of Charles MacDonald but it wasn't as if this was a weak woman taking refuge under the protection of one of the most powerful mob bosses in London.
He had taken her out of prison. Had paid handsomely and may I add, secretly top Beat officials to make it happen. Alice's fame preceded her. Charles was on top of his game. A lot of women had passed from his bed but the Diamond lass had piqued his interest. In his mind, this relationship was bound to happen. They both came from the same rough streets of a darker London which bore no resemblance to the rich, elegant, frivolous lives of those who had the means to live as such. Fired up with the same ambition, to rise above, to survive, and survive they did with such mastery, they had no other to challenge them.
He had courted her relentlessly. At the start, she dismissed him. She didn't need a man in her life. Relationships made life complicated; feelings made a person weak. But he hadn't backed down. Charles always managed to get what he wanted. In the end she knew she would give in. She had fallen head over heels for the bastard, but she pretended not to matter. Instead she watched him, secretly taking pleasure to the knowledge she had wrapped a man of such power around her little finger. He may not have been a matinee idol in regards to his looks. He was a man having done some tough living while growing up without having two pennies to rub together at the slumps of London.
Like a moth attracted to the fire she was around him. She was aware he was a dangerous man, but it didn't matter. They became lovers and he treated her like a queen. The rush of adrenaline she felt with him, she hadn't felt with anyone else, apart from...
She turned and stared at the clock, ticking the night away. It had been well past one in the morning and he hadn't come to bed yet. Yes, lately, there had been one other man who competed in her mind against Charles. This hadn't been something she expected, nor did she seek for it. But his actions weren't of any other man she knew. He came from a different world from her own but the way he behaved reminded her so much of herself. He didn't need to have this secret life, being a criminal, the infamous Raven but somehow life had pushed him to carve this identity for him, for reasons she did not know but was suspecting already. Just like him, Alice Diamond was a persona she had created to deal with everything that took place around her. Just like her, Christian loved and hated being who he was. When he was brought in front of MacDonald and was beaten up just for the reason that he wanted out...He spoke to her heart.
She had mentioned it to Charles about them perhaps retiring from such a life. Get a cottage somewhere far, plant some veggies in the garden, start a family. He did want a family, but not on Alice's terms however. And that was the crack that kept widening in their relationship.
In the midst of all that took place, she found herself tied to Christian. His fate dictated hers. She touched her lips. It had been a day since he had kissed her, strictly for "business" as he had put it. The misfortune with the knife wasn't a laughing matter and that bloody copper was on their tail. She was worried even more because he didn't show signs of knowing exactly how deep they were sinking. His mind had been completely elsewhere.
She turned the other way; sighed. Charles was still in his study downstairs and she wasn't going to fall asleep any time soon. She got up. Threw her robe over her shoulders. Tiptoed down the stairs. The light shone through the cracks of the closed door. She reached it. Though his voice was low, she realised he was speaking to someone over the phone.
"He's more of a risk than a gain at this point Billy."
"It's only a matter of time..."
"What do you mean he sure will have a plan? Have you spoken to him at all?"
"Exactly! His mind isn't in this, neither his will."
"No, you listen to me now!"
"I want you to take him out... Don't care who does it, or where, just do it."
"Give him a chance?"
"I'm not the fucking Church, Billy!"
"I know his exhibition is over tomorrow..."
She gasped. Held her breath, while her heartbeat became almost frantic.
"Any time after, ok. But next time I hear from you, I want to hear what I expect to hear."
Not having anything planned, she just opened the door of the study. She knew she could succeed nothing by this but the wave of anxiety that swelled inside her chest compelled her to just act in any way she could at that instance.
Charles stopped the conversation midway. Looked at her, her gaze stern.
"Alice, didn't I tell you to knock when the door is closed?"
She walked with all the confidence she could gather at that point. Desire mirrored in her eyes. She picked the phone from his hand.
"Goodnight Billy." She said, with her eyes locked on Charles and without waiting to hear the response from the other end, she put the receiver down.
She didn't move. Instead she closed whatever distance there was between her and Charles. He took a step back, while trying to figure her out and sat at the desk chair behind him. She half closed her eyes, a naughty smile drew on her lips. Her robe slipped open when she strode him. His eyes travelled from her face, to her naked body, showing under her thin silk negligée.
"What's this...?" He asked her, raising his eyebrow and his gaze back to her face.
"Just to remind you what you're missing..." She said, "Since you seem you've forgotten."
She leaned and kissed him, her hands untying his tie at the same time. He let her push her tongue inside his mouth, while savouring the boldness of her kiss. He passed his arms around her waist, his hands feeling the smooth flesh of her buttocks. She stopped. She pulled his hands off from her.
"Just because I'm rubbing myself on you and get to kiss you any way I like, doesn't mean you're free to feel the goods." She said, the words feeling like velvet on her lips.
He smiled. "You're annoyed for?"
"I'm annoyed for being upstairs all hot and bothered and you scheming down here how to snuff out another poor sod who happened to look at you the wrong way at one a.m in the morning."
He leaned backwards. Searched her face for clues to find where this was leading to. "How do you know I was scheming?"
"Oh my God, Charlie! For a mobster, you know I can read you like an open book." She exclaimed. "Care to tell me who's the unlucky one who's about to find his maker?" She asked him, her heart beating on her throat.
"It is not of your concern..." He said softly. He put his arms around her waist again, bringing her forward on his lap. "You started something here and I want it to continue, if you don't mind."
"Tell me, is not the painter..." She tried once more. Like before, she grasped his hands, resting at her waist, in an effort to push him back but this time, he wasn't having it. Instead, his hands grabbed hers by the wrists and kept them locked at her back. He shooshed her. He wasn't having any more talking from her part that night.
"Never cross my boundaries, Alice..." He whispered, with his lips hovering close to her neck, she could feel the air carrying his words. He pulled his head up, his stare dived inside her eyes. He smiled, though this smile of his came with a warning. He kept her still, with his grip over her wrists still tight. His lips brushed against hers. "Now where were we?" He asked before his mouth covered hers, their kiss turning to fire, rendering her unable to respond to a question he wasn't expecting her to answer.
Friday passed with such speed, the whole day felt like a blur to Christian. He spent the day mostly at the Gallery. Despite all the drama in his life at the moment, his exhibition had been very successful of making his name known to London circles as a much promising painter. Standing in the middle of the big room, he felt calm, content. Even hopeful for everything. He had managed to steer his life up till now on his own. Since he had been nineteen. Eight years already.
It was true what people said about time. Time erased everything. It was the big leveller. Everything and everyone stood equal against time. Eight years ago, he had lost his mother. She had stood social isolation and relentless gossip for three years while carrying the grief for losing her husband and the guilt...
Since the scandal with Dr. Gardner had burst into the news, it provided ample food for all gossipers around. The gossip column inches in the newspapers... they had tried to be slightly more objective, more tactful even... given the extend. How many well-off families had made arrangements with said doctor, exchanging money for lives, for babies they couldn't otherwise have. Including the Blakes.
The hearsay on the other hand. The judgment, harsh and cold, how those couples had dared...pretending fake pregnancies. As with everything else that shocked public opinion, everything was either black or white. Never were so many who had taken the moral high ground in this occasion.
All of a sudden, the Blakes had found themselves social pariahs in London's high society. Philip's heart problems had started before the scandal broke out. His fatal heart attack though came a year after, when bowing under pressure, the board of directors of Martins Bank - one of the directors being the Duke of Grandchester - decided to ask Philip Blake to vacate the chair of Chief Executive Officer of the bank. In the years leading to WWI, there was an expansionism trend in the banking sector in Great Britain. The directors of Martins Bank after a failed acquisition, being quite keen and determined to expand, they moved forward to merge successfully with the Bank of Liverpool. However, before anything was signed, they couldn't risk even the slightest blemish in their management. An unfortunate tide of events that was for Philip, taking into consideration how they found themselves named as one of the high society families who had actually paid for their offspring.
They never had come clean to Christian. But he wasn't a fool. To the contrary, he was a very bright boy. He was fifteen when all that came to the surface. Already attending the Westminster all-boys college. Although, his parents thought that he would be spared from the storm that was raging in society's circles, that was not the case.
Other students were talking behind his back or in front of him; he was taunted, teased, bullied. God knows where his parents had bought him from. Sold like a loaf of bread. Was he a whore's child? Perhaps his real mother was being fucked in order to sell her babies. Was making a good mint for herself.
It didn't take Christian long to show signs of the troubles which were tormenting him. Anger rose like the water from wet soil through the roots of a young plant. He grew and blossomed in that anger. Became aggressive, reckless. Isolated himself from everyone and everything. Most times, he escaped. The teachers complained. He was a truant, a bad influence. Surely, not how he had been in the past.
There was only one teacher who understood a bit better of what the boy was going through. The arts teacher, Mr. Condell. Even if there was a marked change in Christian's attendance and performance in the rest of the classes, Mr. Condell had noticed Christian still was making an effort to show up in in his Art History class. He was the one who, after having seen some of Christian's sketches, he had encouraged him to take up drawing and painting.
The moment Christian started to draw his first painting, he knew. The white canvas became his refuge. The colours his feelings. He poured everything into them. He only stopped painting when he felt empty. When his fingers were numb and couldn't hold the brushes and his shoulders ached. Exhausted with the taste of turpentine on his lips, he would sleep a sleep without dreams. However, as the scandal deepened and the gossip became ripe, the head of Westminster College, advised Christian's parents that Christian would be better if he left and continued his studies at home. Christian remembered for a long time the fight between his father and the headmaster, he couldn't help but hear as he sat outside.
He left Westminster College. He would be home-schooled. If he was asked at the time, Christian was relieved to leave that retched place. The only person he said goodbye to was his Arts teacher whom he was sad to leave behind. But took to heart his advice. Paint your feelings. The world won't be as cruel with them for ever, he had said.
Staying at home, wasn't the escape Christian had hoped. He started clashing with his father. More and more in intensity every time. Whether Philip and Irene had regretted for what they had done, they never came out saying so. But Christian's painting habit, Philip hated it with passion. They hadn't sacrificed their lives so that Christian would become a penniless disgrace. The Blakes had been a hard working sort. Educated, men of letters and numbers. Accountants, merchants, people of the cloth. Where did this artistic streak come from?
Christian's eyes moved over the paintings hung on the walls. His paintings. Time quiet and relentless had passed since then. His teacher was right. The world indeed had stopped being cruel with him. They had forgotten about the scandal, the sold babies. They had forgotten his parents. He had almost forgotten them. Everything about them was as if he tried to look through frosted glass.
Not many people were left in the room. He was going to wait half an hour yet before leaving too. His eyes stopped at his Scarlet Rose. No matter who that woman was in her past, for him she would always be Rose. Up till last night he thought she was his Rose. Right at that moment, his heart was numb. Was it his fate to not have someone in his life to call his?
His parents weren't truly his parents. He had loved them as if they had been true to him, but at the same time, he knew... he wished he hadn't. And now, he had met this girl out of the blue. He came to love her. She had made him want to change. Create something of his own, a life he could call his. A love he could call his.
The sound of footsteps behind him took him out of his thoughts, though his gaze stayed a little while longer on the sleeping face of Rose.
"She's something else, isn't she?" The sound of this familiar voice grated on his nerves like broken glass. He tensed, even if he expected to meet with this man again at some point. To be said though, he would have preferred if it was at another time and place.
"That is an inappropriate comment to make for the woman of another man, Detective Shaw." He turned and faced him, reigning in the annoyance in his voice. "Don't you think?" He asked, raising his brow.
"Oh, don't get me wrong, Mr. Blake." Robert quickly explained himself. "I apologise for sounding inappropriately forward. My comment was entirely on the artistic merits of the painting."
"Although, if you permit me to say so, your partner is indeed an inspiring woman."
"She is..."
"Shame that her influence concerns only your art..."
"What do you mean Detective?"
"Miss White seems such a decent woman, charitable, of a good family - one would only hope she'd inspire you to see the merits of such a life..."
"Excuse me?!" Christian asked him, while he found it difficult to reign in the anger that was simmering behind his eyes. "You know what...Detective Shaw...it doesn't matter... I am sure you have your agenda, but I'm too tired to decipher your riddles." He added. Saying nothing more, he turned his back. He was going to walk away, leaving Robert Shaw standing in front of his painting.
"Oh, but I think you know perfectly the meaning behind my riddles..." Robert grabbed Christian's arm, just when he was about to leave him. His muscles tensed under the Detective's hand. He gritted his teeth, and turned.
"What the he-" His stare was dark when it fell on the man's face.
"What is your relationship with Alice Diamond, may I ask Mr. Blake?" Robert's stare also hardened. He took his hand off Christian's arm. Time was approaching when niceties weren't going to cut it, if he wanted to reach to the bottom of this. He had a theory brewing inside his head but unless someone would come out with some truths, he was not going to be able to confirm it.
"I am not going to discuss my private life with you Detective." Christian replied with the words coming out quiet through clenched teeth.
"Oh, but you will have to Mr. Blake..." Robert said. "Given how you never mentioned the knife you got knifed with, was your own, I believe there is much more to this story that you are letting on."
"Is that so Detective?" Christian reproached him. "Even if the knife was mine, how does that involve me any further from what I have already told you?"
The conversation between the two men was starting to heat up and the few people that had remained inside the grant gallery room were starting to take notice. Robert noticed the stares they were attracting by now.
"This is not the place to continue this discussion...I will be expecting you to my office at the police station, first thing on Monday." He said and gave Christian his card. He tipped his hat to him. "If you have any plans to leave London any time soon, I would suggest you cancel them in the meantime."
Robert Shaw's last words fell like a lightning between them. Christian didn't respond and neither did the detective wait for him to do so. He left Christian to follow him with his eyes till he left the gallery room.
Christian was angry. Most of all he was angry with himself. He had let his heart dictate his actions, his jealousy... Yes, Rose...or Candy as her real name was, had been right at least for that. He got so absorbed by his jealousy, having realised who Terry was, he had forgotten completely about his secret life and the problems it carried. He had let those problems to catch up with him. Now, he felt the rope around him tightening. For the first time, like a setting sun, the belief he had till now that somehow he could work things out was dimming.
To add salt to his wounded confidence, Terry's words were carving circles in his mind, like a torturous merry-go-round.
Give yourself in or else...
How could he do that? How could he come out with the truth to his woman most of all. Not only that, but what he had discovered inside the mansion of the Duke of Grandchester was also a matter which he wasn't ready to give up. He had to find out and first he had to find where Abigail Fowler was.
This wasn't the closing of his first exhibition he wanted and nor had he imagined it to be so. His mood was heavy, dark. Half of him felt like fighting back and half of him wanted badly to give up and disappear. From everyone and everything. But first, he wanted some answers. He looked around one last time at his works. Where he thought his future burned bright, now he wasn't so sure. He tried to push all those thoughts in the back of his mind, the fire he made his eyes sting, and gave the last orders to the gallery staff. The rest of his works would be packed and send back to his apartment. With that, he thanked everyone for their work and left the Whitechapel Gallery.
He rode his motorcycle home. His grey eyes carried a sombre shadow in them with a million thoughts springing inside his head. So many things to take care of, to think them through. His steps were heavy on the stairs when he arrived home.
He opened the door. He smelled women's perfume in the room. The muscles of his jaw tensed. He took his jacket off, threw it on the sofa, loosened up his tie on his way to the bedroom.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" He asked the woman who was sitting on his bed.
"Gee... thank you Christian. It is nice to see you too." Alice said. He looked tired and dishevelled, a five o'clock shadow on his face and his hair all messed up from the motorbike ride. A wave of desire rose inside her but this wasn't a time to confessions of that kind. Fate had tied her to him and since he had kissed her, she hadn't managed to kick him out of her mind.
"Alice, I don't have time for games." He said back to her. His stance hadn't changed. He slid off his suspenders from his shoulders and left the room. Back in the living room, he was in search for some alcohol. The bottles of wine on the table were empty but he wanted something stronger. He opened one of the cabinets in the kitchen and took a dark glass bottle out. Bourbon would do nicely. He took a glass and tilted the bottle but that too was empty. He stood for a moment, cursing in his mouth. His breathing came out hard.
"The hell with it!" He shouted and threw the bottle. It crashed to pieces the moment it hit the wall.
Alice was standing at the door, looking at him. She hadn't any clue why he was like that but whatever it was, she carried even worse news for him.
He bowed his head and put his hands to the kitchen sink. He hand't turned towards her.
"Christian..."
"Go away Alice." His words were measured.
She walked towards him. "Can you please turn to face me?"
He didn't respond. She didn't hesitate. Having dealt with Charlie, she was a woman who wasn't afraid of a man's temper. She stopped right behind him.
"I won't go till you turn." She said.
With bloodshot eyes that spewed all the dark feelings he kept inside, he turned. Grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "Aren't enough what you and your lover have put me through? What do you fucking want from me?"
She wanted to protect him, wished hard that they hadn't messed up with his life the way they had but it was too late. He too wasn't without blame. She pulled back. Anger flashed inside her gaze. "Charlie wants you dead."
He didn't react but he stayed there looking back at her. Her admission managed to dissipate the tension between them. He pushed his fingers through his hair and took a few steps away from her. "Let him." He said as he turned back to her.
She raised her eyebrows. Certainly that wasn't the response she expected. "Let him?" She repeated his words, trying to confirm she heard right. She followed behind him. "LET HIM?" She repeated again, raising her voice.
"What else do you want me to say Alice?" He responded. Took the tobacco out of his pocket and walked towards the table. Sat down to a chair while he rolled his cigarette. He licked the paper, put the cigarette between his lips and lit it. Took a deep drag and blew the smoke out. "What would you have me do?" He asked her and picked a piece of tobacco strand from his lips.
She didn't have an answer for him.
"Fight him?"
"Threaten him?
"Kill him?"
"What the hell can I do Alice?"
So unexpected was his reaction to the news she carried, it had knocked the wind off her sails. Her voice was lowered. "I don't believe my ears..." She responded.
"Where is the Raven? What have you done with him?" She asked him in an attempt to raise his spirits. The two of them could think of something. They had to.
He let a bitter laugh. "The Raven? What have I done with him?!" He asked. "You bought too much on the legend, Alice." He continued without waiting for her reply. "Read too many dailies and you mind is full of nonsense. Is that why you were so keen to work together? Because of the Raven?" The questions were falling off his lips like a waterfall. "Don't tell me you were in love with him...?"
His last question was like a light suddenly having been switched on in his head. "That was why you were so keen to jump inside the mansion? Wanted to impress me?" He squinted to her while he asked her.
She stood there speechless. Truly she couldn't find something to say. For him, to finally read her so clearly, the pieces falling to place effortlessly. All she could hear was her breathing, her heartbeat. He stood up and came in front of her.
"Cat caught your tongue, Alice?" He asked her.
A defiant look had started to dawn on her face. She hadn't been a lass that a man could render her wordless. "That is the thanks for coming here to warn you." She said back to him, looking straight into his eyes, but omitting of answering his question. "There is nothing more to say."
She turned and walked towards the door. She grabbed the door handle. Stopped. "So what if I liked Raven? I did!" She raised her voice, obviously vexed. "Little did I know that he turn to be such an ass!"
He grabbed by her arm and brought her in front of him. "Tell your thug, I'll be coming to see him, before he manages to kill me." He stared her straight in the face, showing no signs of letting her go. She felt his grab tensing around her arm. It started to be painful. She despised him. And then, he let her go. She felt like falling. Her anger evident on her face.
"I wouldn't be so confident." She hissed. Turned her back on him, opened the door and banged it behind her.
Friday evening - under other circumstances, Candy would have been getting ready to go out. But this wasn't the case that particular evening. She hadn't the mood to go out. Instead she had stayed in. Gazing from the open window, her eyes wandered within the evening sky that seemed as if it was on fire. She thought of the two men in her life. Christian and Terry - what were they doing right at that moment. Christian would have been at the Gallery. She had missed his closing night. This saddened her to a great degree. She had witnessed his journey, she had shared his happiness, his excitement, his creative fever, the sparkle inside his eyes. She should have been there with him.
But it was impossible to continue as if nothing had happened. For her, even if she had kept it secret from him till a day ago, Terry had happened. The kisses they shared...the fine hair on her arms rose to the thought of his lips on hers. The way he had looked at her at the corridor back stage. Her breathing became shallow, not wanting to disturb the images that sprung behind her eyes. He should have been in the theatre. Watching from the sidelines. She missed him. His mischievous smile, the intensity of his stare, full of things that were kept unsaid, the way he made her feel like they were just the two of them and the rest of the world melting around them.
She had clasped her hands together, fingers knitted. The crossroad she had found herself, she hadn't anticipated. Even at her wildest dreams. Which road to walk towards? With whom? She wished she had Pony's advice. Albert's shoulder. Instead, she stood alone. Even if she had everything she wished for, ultimately the decision had to be hers. She realised her palms were sweating. She rubbed them on her dress. Closed her eyes, and let her mind travel to the past. Painful as it was, it was hers. She had chosen to deny it and now it had caught up with her, once again. Through that pain however, her love for Terry had never stopped. She had been kidding herself, even by uprooting herself from her old life, even if she had changed her name, her ways, she had been unable to remove him from her heart. She was swimming against the currents and she hadn't no strength left to continue. Could she let herself be carried from her feelings she felt for Terry growing, let herself lost inside them? Her eyelashes became wet.
The ring from the telephone pulled her back from her thoughts. She took a deep breath. She wasn't particularly interested in answering the person who was calling her. Most probably there would be someone from her circle, wanting to ask her where had she been. It was Friday evening after all. Everyone would have been getting ready to party. She walked towards the ringing phone.
"Where have you been?" She heard Marion's voice, all enthusiastic, eager to talk, once she picked up the receiver.
"Oh, hi Marion." She answered to her friend. "I'm at home, not feeling particularly well."
"Rose! Gosh! I should come over!" She exclaimed her worry.
"No! There is no need, dear. I'll be fine. It's just a spell, it'll pass." Candy lied but she didn't want to elaborate further. "What's up with you?" She asked her, having heard her all happy across the phone line. Marion carried her life without any clouds on her horizon. For a fleeting moment, Candy wished her life had been like that.
"Oh, my dear Rose, I'm so happy, you can tell!" She giggled from the other end, like a school girl having done something she shouldn't have. "Terry kissed me!" She almost yelled even if she tried to sound quiet for the fear to be heard by her mother.
Candy's throat closed. No air was passing through. She coughed, but she felt like crying. How could she respond to such news from Marion? Archie had warned her. She knew it herself that Terry wouldn't have stayed single for long. Now...it had been all her fault. Terry had been waiting for her response to the question he had put to her and all she was doing was avoiding to answer. Damn her indecision!
"Rose?" She heard her friend. "Are you ok?" She asked given her reaction from her.
"I'm fine darling! That is indeed great news to hear!" Candy replied. She thanked the fact that Marion couldn't see her right at that time. How the colour had drained away from her face. How her eyesight blurred, with tears which certainly weren't arising from happiness.
"I am so happy for you dear!" She added. "Terry is a great catch!"
A sigh of relief was heard. "Gosh, I'm so glad you took the news that way!" She said. "I was expecting a big lecture from you, you know." She admitted.
"Why so?" Candy asked her.
"Well... you never seemed like warming up to him. Being an actor, a player at such..."
"It's your life Marion! I would never dictate your actions." She explained.
"It's not as if I'm going to marry him... you know me. But to get to know him, and be by his side for as long as it lasts...oh my goodness, I'm giddy just thinking about it."
"Are you sure, he feels the same way?" Candy blurted.
"What do you mean darling?" She quizzed her friend. "That he fakes it?" The tone in her voice was turning sour. "He was the one who took me for a romantic getaway to the park. Oh it was beautiful you know! The only thing I did was complain about not knowing that he had played the role of Hamlet the night before. And all of a sudden, he grabbed me and took me for lunch to the park. He was the one who kissed me. Not me! Despite what you think of me, sometimes I think you disapprove of my ways, Rose!"
Candy felt dizzy. She wanted for this phone call to end. To sit down. Her knees were trembling.
"I'm sorry if I came out like that. This wasn't my intension darling. I'm always cautious though. You know my worrisome nature. Since I do not want to be misunderstood, I will say no more on your relationship with Mr. Graham." She sounded stern but she couldn't help herself.
There was quiet from the other side.
"I am sorry my sweet friend! I know indeed the goodness of your heart. But please know that sometimes you do sound standoffish. As if you're not happy with my happiness."
"Most definitely this is not true!" Candy reacted straight away.
"I know... I know. I hope you stop worrying, because your friend is over the moon right now."
"I can imagine... " Candy lowered her voice, the grip around the receiver intensifying.
"So, see you tomorrow at the ball?"
"The ball?"
"Oh dear God! Rose! Are you sure sweetheart that you don't need me to come around?" Marion indeed sounded worried now. "The Angels and Demons party? Come on, don't tell me you forgotten?"
It was Candy's turn to remain silent. She indeed had forgotten about that. With the current news from Marion, and the distance she had put between herself and Christian, it was the last thing that could have passed her mind. She actually had no wish to go.
"Oh that?! I don't know dear... Let me see how I'll be feeling tomorrow."
"Nonsense! You'll feel fine! You have to! It'll be the ball of the summer! You'll be such a party pooper! Please come! Should I talk to Christian? Take care of you, in an extra special way?" Her voice turned full of meaning. For Marion, a good tumble between the sheets was enough to solve any ailments of the soul. She wasn't too wrong, but had she known that she had pushed Christian back...
"No, there is no need!" Candy raised her voice. She forced a smile. "I'll tell Christian myself." Tried to sound as suggestive as her friend had been.
"Great! So that's settled! You and Christian, I'll see you tomorrow!" She chirped, blew kisses on the phone and hung up.
Candy let a loud breath out and collapsed on the arm chair, like an empty sac. She bent forward and shoved her fingers through her hair, holding her head between her legs. The tears she kept with much care, started rolling down the curves of her cheeks. The moment they reached the tip, they dripped on the carpet. Her mind went completely blank. Terry and Marion... She had courted him without being discouraged from Terry's aloof attitude at times. He was a man after all. Despite her blaming herself, she also started feeling angry with him. If it was true that he had travelled an ocean to find her, couldn't he have waited? For a just a day or two longer. He had waited for ten years for her. Such was her conflict. Battling with feeling selfish but on the other hand knowing that he was pushing him away with not coming out clean. She hadn't found the strength to tell him... she loved him still.
Terry walked inside the Claridge's hotel. Friday's performance had finished, triumphantly as it had been till now. Barrymore had taken again the lead. It was very big of him to stand down for that one night, allowing Terry to take the lead on the play he had been the top name on the marquee. The comparisons were inevitable and although Terry tried to play them down, he knew that there was a part of the great actor that felt a bit competitive. All creative people had that competitive streak. To achieve greatness, to rise above all other, bright stars in a huge sky.
In any case, Terry was grateful of going back to the side lines. Especially with everything that was happening in his private life. Having kissed Marion, seemed to him now such a bad idea. He had let his ego carry him away to doing something he now regretted. It had been done now though. He couldn't erase it. He looked forward of locking himself in his room, have a shower and try to be rational about the whole mess.
He entered his room. Took his jacket off and poured himself a whiskey. He heard a knock at the door. He raised his brows. Who could have been that late in the night? He would have a word with the hotel concierge in the morning for sure. He walked towards the door and opened it. His eyes widened with surprise.
"Hello Grandchester... Missed me?"
"I'll be damned! What are you doing here Archie?"
"I missed you, you fool. Will you let me in or are we to stand here, staring at each other?" Archie teased him, seeing how he had taken his friend by surprise.
Terry stepped aside to let Archie in. Intrigued of seeing him and the reason of his visit, he closed the door behind him.