The Cavendon Luck

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  Staring at James intently, Clark continued in a low voice, “We’ll get married the moment there’s a break for me in the filming. Maybe in March. A quiet wedding, just Carole, me, two witnesses, and a judge. Pity you and Dulcie won’t be here, Jamie, you could have been our witnesses.”

  “It is indeed, but funnily enough, that’s yet another reason we have to get back to London as soon as possible. We have a wedding to go to.”

  “Who’s getting married?”

  “Dulcie’s sister Diedre, and she postponed it so we could be present.”

  “I can understand why.” Clark gave James a wry smile. “You’ll not only miss my wedding, but my birthday party as well. On February the first I’ll be thirty-eight.” He stood up. “Let’s have one for the road, and then I must scram. Carole’s waiting for me. And remember, no good-byes, James.”

  “No good-byes, Clark, just a fare-thee-well and a see you later.”

  * * *

  “I’m sure you helped Clark,” Dulcie said. “He left looking much less worried.”

  James nodded. “I told him to just be himself, because that’s what his fans want. Just Clark Gable, plain and simple.”

  Dulcie smiled. “He’s hardly that.” She leaned against James and said softly, “I will miss this place in so many ways, but I can’t tell you what a relief it is to be going home.”

  James put his arms around her and held her closer to him. The two of them were sitting on the terrace overlooking the garden after supper. It had grown cooler, and the light had faded long ago, but it was a lovely night; in the clear air the stars shone brightly in the deep-blue sky.

  He knew exactly what Dulcie meant. He, too, would miss many things here in Beverly Hills. But what was happening in Europe overrode everything else. A dictator called Adolf Hitler was raging war against neighboring countries, and soon his own country would be dragged into the fray. Neville Chamberlain was forever appeasing that vile man, and it would all go to waste in the long run. Hitler had his agenda.

  “You’re silent as the grave,” Dulcie murmured, and then shuddered. “I hate thinking of death, but that’s all we read about in the newspapers and hear on the news. Do you think we will be invaded, James?”

  “There’s no question in my mind about it. That’s why I have to get back to London. I must join up, do my bit. I feel really rotten, tense at times, being here in this lovely paradise not doing anything to help.”

  There was a moment of silence, and Dulcie finally said, “Felix said you are too old to fight, and I’d worry if you were at the front.”

  “I know you would, and Felix is right, actually. I doubt they’ll take me, but I must do something useful, I can’t just stay here making movies while everyone else is part of the war effort.”

  “I know. And I think everyone in our families will feel better once we are back. I know many people would say the children are safer in California, but I know we’ll both feel quite safe when we are in England. And the children will be fine.”

  “You miss your sisters and Charlotte and your father, just as I miss my darling Ruby and everyone else. Better now we’re going. And if we decide never to come back after the war it’ll be easy to sell this house. That doesn’t bother me. I just want to go as fast as possible.”

  “Actually it was Diedre who said the other day that the children should all be at Cavendon. It’ll be much better for them in the country than in London. Her Robin is there.”

  “That’ll make your father happy,” James answered, bending over her, kissing her cheek. “I feel sort of ridiculous being in California, especially since I’m so patriotic.”

  “You’re an Englishman from the top of your head down to the tip of your toes, James Brentwood, and where you should be is in your country. You will be soon. So stop feeling that you’re a coward for not leaving before now.”

  “You’re right, I do worry too much. But the mess with Louis B. was something to contend with. I thought for a moment he was going to make me stay here to finish my contract.”

  “So did I, and then I put my faith in Felix and said a prayer.”

  He laughed, then said, “I noticed the suitcases, there are so many I couldn’t believe it. What we’ve acquired here, I mean.”

  “Actually, I’m leaving a lot of the children’s toys behind, things they’ve outgrown, and clothes that are getting too small. But yes, we did seem to buy a lot of things. I’ve boxed the books we both love and they are going back by freight. There aren’t many more cases, James. I’ve finished packing.”

  “Have you enjoyed living here?” he asked unexpectedly, taking Dulcie by surprise.

  After a moment of thought she said with a light laugh, “Once I got used to the women ogling you, and the men ogling me, and the producers offering me a screen test! So yes, eventually. And most of the time it’s been nice. But I’m glad we’re going home.”

  “So am I.” He kissed her cheek, then her neck, and suddenly their passion flared. He extracted himself and stood up, gave her his hand. “Let’s go upstairs to our room, shall we, darling? I want to be close to you. Very close.”

  “And so do I,” she said.

  * * *

  James was wide awake, lay staring straight up at the ceiling in the dark, his mind whirling with thoughts. Dulcie had fallen into a deep sleep following their passionate lovemaking. He glanced at her, smiled to himself. What a joy she was in so many ways. A wonderful wife, a good mother, a great companion, and a good sport.

  He knew how homesick she was at times, longing to be with her siblings, her father, and Charlotte. And Cavendon, of course. But she put up a good front for him and everyone else. He was well aware there were many things that she liked about being in Hollywood. But the pull of home was enormous now, had grown stronger by the day, and especially since war had begun to loom over England.

  Family, he thought. The most fundamental thing of all in life. The family must always come first, Ruby had told him years ago. The family unit must be protected. He had his own family unit now: Dulcie and their three children.

  But then there was his extended family. Ruby and his other siblings, and their spouses, children, and grandchildren. And then there were the Inghams and the Swanns. He wanted, no needed, to be back there with them. And that’s what his anxiety was all about. He was like them, shared the same values and principles.

  Here in Hollywood the British actors were of the same mind; they, too, were planning to return home. But not everyone here understood this terrible threat of war, or that it could become a world war. The Americans had always been isolationists. They thought the war would stay in Europe. The truth was it might well not. Fortunately, President Roosevelt was behind Winston Churchill, as much as he could be, at any rate. They had started to send ammunitions and food to Britain, but whether any men would be coming over to fight was another thing altogether.

  The one person who had a genuine comprehension about the war was Clark Gable. He had even said he would join up if America entered the conflict, and James knew he meant every word.

  Suddenly he thought of Bow Common Lane, the East End, and the docks where his father and brother had worked; and the Old Vic, and the other theaters he had played in, and Rules and the Garrick Club. But mostly it was the family that mattered. He missed them and so did Dulcie. They couldn’t wait to get home … to get back to where they belonged.

  Forty-four

  Cecily and Dorothy Pinkerton were sitting in Cecily’s office at the shop in the Burlington Arcade. It was still her favorite place; she did most of her work here, and designed in the adjoining studio. What also made the office perfect for her was that Dorothy was downstairs and always available to her, whatever she needed.

  Dorothy knew that Cecily was genuinely upset on this cold February morning, and she was wondering how to comfort her when Cecily mumbled, “So sorry, Dot, really sorry.”

  “It’s all right, Ceci.” Rising, she went over to join her on the sofa, put her arms around her. �
��Just stop blaming yourself. You’ve not done anything wrong. Even doctors don’t know why a woman can miscarry at two months.”

  Swallowing her tears, wiping her streaming eyes with her fingertips, Cecily leaned against Dorothy’s shoulder. “I’m all right. I’m healthy. My doctor says that I’ll conceive again. It’s just that I’m awfully disappointed, and so is Miles. We’ve wanted another baby for so long.”

  “I understand. On the other hand, Dr. Denton told you the truth, I’m sure,” Dorothy replied.

  “I worry a bit, Dotty, because of my age. I’ll be thirty-eight this year. I’ll soon be too old to have a baby.”

  The older woman put her hand under Cecily’s chin and lifted her face, looked into her eyes. “You’re not too old. And we must always remember that you’re not childless. You and Miles have three beautiful, healthy children … David, Walter, and Venetia. Just in case you’ve forgotten. So let’s look on the bright side, shall we?”

  Dorothy had said this in such a stern way, and there was such a serious look on her face, Cecily suddenly felt rather silly. “Yes,” she nodded. “I do know I have a lot to be thankful for and so does Miles.”

  Pulling herself together, filled with irritation that she had been feeling sorry for herself, Cecily got up, went to her desk, and sat down.

  She glanced at the carriage clock as she did, exclaimed, “Oh dear! I’ll have to run in a few minutes. Dulcie invited me to lunch. Can we go over a few things quickly, Aunt Dottie?”

  Nodding, Dorothy joined her, sat down in the chair opposite the desk, relieved she had managed to rouse Cecily out of her sadness. She opened her notebook. “One pressing thing. Joe Hardy in Leeds wants to know when he can get delivery of the white cotton for the white rose brooches. He’s running low on stock.”

  “You can track that with the manufacturer in Manchester. If there’s none available, we’ll have to go to silk, but that makes the brooch more expensive, Dot.”

  “I know it does, so I’ll get in touch with the mill immediately. Incidentally, I studied last month’s sales over the weekend. Accessories and perfume are the top sellers. I’m afraid we’re down on clothes.”

  “Do you mean couture?” Cecily asked, staring at Dorothy.

  “No. I mean our ready-made clothes. The sales are really low. People are not spending … they’re afraid of war, they know it’s coming, and they don’t know what to expect. They are saving their money.”

  “I agree with you. Everyone’s being cautious. It also might be the winter blues, the weather’s been awful. I’ll try and do a revamp of the summer line, and get it going sooner. Women usually buy a few things for summer. I’ll have a go at the designs this weekend.”

  “I don’t think you will, Ceci. It’s the wedding.”

  “What’s wrong with me? I forgot for a moment. Never mind, I’ll get to the summer collection next week.” The ringing phone interrupted their conversation. She picked it up. “Hello.”

  “Daphne, how are you?” Cecily said, listening for a few moments, her face changing radically, and she sat up alertly.

  Dorothy, watching her, knew there was something wrong, but remained totally still and silent.

  “So when did Charlotte break her leg?” As Cecily said this she stared across at Dorothy and grimaced. Then she continued, “So Goff drove her to the hospital in Harrogate with your father…” She listened for another few seconds, and then spoke again. “Yes, I do understand, Daphne. Just let me know what else I can do, and please do take it easy. Everything will be fine. Bye, darling.”

  Putting the receiver in the cradle, Cecily explained, “Charlotte tripped and fell this morning, poor thing; fortunately it was in the library which is carpeted. She broke her left leg, but otherwise she’s all right, no other injuries. But, gosh, she is seventy now. Falls can be dangerous at that age. Daphne’s taken on the running of Cavendon for the next few days. As you just reminded me, there’s Diedre’s wedding this weekend, and quite a lot of extra things to do. She wanted me to let Miles and Hugo know what’s happened, since they’re both here in town. She hasn’t been able to reach them. I know Miles went to see his eye doctor for a checkup, and then he was going to look at a new tractor Harry’s keen to buy. As for Hugo, I don’t know where he is, if not at his office. Actually, he might have arranged to have lunch with Miles. They came to London together on the early train this morning. I’ll call Miles’s office before I go to meet Dulcie.”

  * * *

  Cecily was wearing a navy-blue woolen topcoat and matching cashmere scarf, well bundled up against the icy-cold weather. Halfway down the Burlington Arcade she remembered she hadn’t telephoned Miles, but kept on walking. He shared an office with Hugo and one of them would know by now about Charlotte’s accident.

  It was a grim day, windy, with an overcast sky the color of pewter. She felt the chill in her bones as she hurried out onto Piccadilly and crossed this main thoroughfare, heading for the Ritz Hotel.

  The warmth of the hotel foyer was lovely after the bitter wind, and she slipped out of her coat and went to the ladies’ cloakroom. A few minutes later she was walking through the beautiful dining room overlooking Green Park.

  Three of the four Dees were already there waiting for her. Dulcie waved, and she waved back, a smile flashing across her face. Everyone in the family was thrilled to have Dulcie and James back home, along with their three children, Rosalind, Juliet, and Henry. In particular, they had all missed Dulcie’s joie de vivre, her outgoing personality, and her quaint use of the language. Most appreciated in these dark times.

  Once she had greeted everyone, Cecily sat down next to Diedre, and told them about Charlotte’s fall, and shared her concern for Charlotte. They were sympathetic and promised to pitch in, even though they knew that Daphne ran Cavendon like Admiral Nelson had run the British fleet. Daphne’s favorite motto was, “I want everything shipshape in ten minutes.” How often they had teased her about this in the past, and would do so again.

  “Now you’re here, Ceci, we can make a toast to Diedre.” As she spoke, Dulcie beckoned to a waiter, who came to the table and filled their crystal flutes with rose champagne.

  Lifting her glass, Dulcie said, “Here’s to you, our darling Diedre. We wish you much happiness and joy with William, who’s the perfect match for you. And may you have a long life together.”

  They clinked glasses, and Diedre, flushed pink with happiness, took a sip of champagne, then thanked them for the gifts they had sent her last week, mostly treats of silky nightgowns and lingerie. “I can’t wait to wear them,” Diedre said.

  “Oh but only for a few minutes, you know!” Dulcie exclaimed. “Then they have to come right off.” As she said this, she winked at Diedre, who found herself actually blushing, and was mortified at herself.

  The others also giggled, and then DeLacy looked across at Dulcie, and asked, “Is William really a look-alike for Clark Gable? If anyone should know, it’s you.”

  “They’re the same type, actually,” Dulcie answered at once. “They’re both over six feet tall, well built but slender. Certainly they have black hair and moustaches and are very masculine. But there is a difference in that Clark’s eyes are a light gray, almost translucent, and William’s are brown. Also, Clark has a cleft in his chin, and dimples. Those are most unique, and his cheeks actually do dimple when he smiles. To tell you the truth, I’ve only ever seen dimples like that on fat little babies,” Dulcie finished, starting to laugh hilariously.

  “Some baby, eh?” Cecily said. “Clark Gable or no Clark Gable, I think William is the most gorgeous thing on two manly legs. Except for Miles, of course.”

  There was more laughter and joking, and Diedre did not mind their teasing. She took it with amusement, joining in the fun. Later they ordered the same food, as they so often did. Oysters, followed by grilled Dover sole, and only coffee for dessert. And Diedre couldn’t quite believe that after her years of being widowed she had new happiness ahead.

  * * *

&nb
sp; After lunch Diedre took a taxi to the War Office, Dulcie and DeLacy went back to the art gallery in Mount Street, and Cecily returned to her shop in the arcade. The moment she entered the shop, Dorothy exclaimed, “Oh gosh, you’ve just missed Lady Gwendolyn. It’s the second time she’s phoned since you left for lunch.”

  Taking off her coat and scarf, Cecily asked, “Did she say why she was phoning me?”

  “No, but she sounded like herself, normal, very together. I hope I’m like her, if I get to be her age. She’s a wonder.”

  “I’ll go up to the office and call her back now. Any other messages?”

  “From Miles. He said he knew about Charlotte’s accident from Hugo. They were having lunch together, and then Miles was going to look at the tractor. He said he’ll see you at home tonight.”

  Cecily nodded, told Dorothy a few tidbits about the lunch, and then ran upstairs. Lowering herself into the chair, she picked up the phone and dialed Lady Gwendolyn.

  Much to her surprise it was her mother who answered. “Mam, what are you doing there? Is everything all right?”

  “Of course it is,” Alice Swann said. “Charlotte had promised to come and look at various dresses Lady Gwendolyn had taken out of her wardrobe. For the wedding. His lordship’s fussing around about Charlotte’s broken leg, so I’m here instead.”

  “Oh good, I’m glad. I’m sure the best one for the wedding is the purple silk.”

  “It’s the one we’ve settled on. I’m going to give the phone to Lady Gwendolyn now. I must rush, Ceci. I’m late for the meeting at the Women’s Institute. See you tomorrow, love.”

  “You will indeed.” A moment later Cecily was greeting Lady Gwendolyn. She then asked her, “Is there something special you want to discuss with me, Great-Aunt Gwen? About the dress, perhaps?”

  “No, not about the dress, Cecily. I wanted to speak to you and Charlotte about my will. But Charles wouldn’t allow Charlotte to come up to see me this afternoon, because of her leg. What I want to do is make an appointment to see my solicitor, and I do hope Charlotte and you can come with me. Well, maybe not Charlotte, not now.”