Web of Dreams

by V. C. Andrews

  "No, Momma. Well, yes, that's part of it," I confessed, and I told her of Daddy's plans to establish a European office and why that meant I wouldn't see much of him.

  "It doesn't surprise me, Leigh," she snapped. "And don't think he wouldn't have done something like this even if we hadn't divorced. Oh, when I think of the precious time I've wasted, the youth I've wasted!" Her face burned with frustration and anger for a few moments and then she caught her image in the mirror.

  "Oh, I must not let myself frown!" she cried with such desperation, I actually jumped. "Do you know one of the best beauty experts says frowning speeds up wrinkling." She sounded frantic. "I've been reading an article he wrote. People with quiet, happy dispositions age far more slowly than people who are always annoyed and upset. The trick is to keep your anger subdued and to quickly think of something pleasant. He compared it to throwing water on a fire.

  "The fire burns, consumes your youth and beauty, if you permit it to, so you have to smother, stifle and extinguish it as fast as you can." She smiled widely as if to demonstrate.

  "Now, I must take a warm shower and give myself a facial before dinner. Then you and I will sit down and you will tell me all about Winterhaven, okay?"

  My head was spinning from all the different subjects she had covered in minutes. "But I want to ask you something, Momma. I've already asked Tony and he said it would be fine with him if it would be fine with you."

  "What is it?" She started to grimace as if preparing herself for a horrible question or terrible demand.

  "I've made some nice friends at Winterhaven, especially my roommate, Jennifer Longstone. I'd like to invite them here on weekends."

  "On weekends! Oh, not for a while yet, Leigh, please. I can't have you conducting tours of girls through the estate and being occupied with these new friends. I need you to help me occupy Tony. He wants to teach you how to horseback ride and ski. He told me so himself, and he's looking forward to using the weekends to do it.

  "You promised you would help me in this way. You did, Leigh," she reminded me, her face twisted in a look of urgency. "I'm sure Tony was only being polite when you asked him. He would much rather have you all to himself, at least for a while.

  "And then, we'll let you invite your little friends here one at a time."

  "But Momma, there's so much room. We can have more than one at a time!" I exclaimed.

  "We'll see. I'm sure they're all nice and proper girls if they go to Winterhaven," she added and started for the shower. "But please, Leigh, no more difficulties. I'm absolutely drained," she said and followed it with a trail of laughter.

  And so my first weekend home from

  Winterhaven began the way most all of these weekends would. Our Friday night dinners were always quite formal, and unless Tony and Momma wererinvited someplace to have dinner, they usually invited friends to join us. None of the couples ever brought their children along, so except for me and Troy, when he was well enough to join us at the table, I was always with the adults, who talked about things that I had little interest in.

  Sometimes Tony had a movie to show in the little theater. A friend of a friend would get him something that was popular. A few times we had a pianist perform in the music room. On those occasions, Tony and Momma would invite a half dozen or more of their friends to dinner and the private concert. Momma said it was not only chic, but it was her way of supporting the arts and the artists who needed the added income to continue their creative work.

  Tony and I did go to a nearby ski hill on Saturdays throughout the winter months. He employed a private ski instructor to teach me the fundamentals and before long, I was following him down the intermediate slope. Tony was a magnificent skier who usually took the most difficult runs. We would have lunch in the ski lodge, sitting by the fire.

  Momma never came along with us. While we were away, she would go somewhere to play bridge or have her women friends over to play at Farthy. If she didn't play bridge, she would go shopping or to matinees in Boston.

  Troy, still weak from his terrible bout with pneumonia, was kept inside most of the time. At Momma's insistence, Tony hired a full-tirne nurse to look after him, even though he was no longer sick. In late March when he came down with chicken pox, which was then followed with the measles, Momma never stopped reminding Tony and me how clever she was to insist Troy have personal medical attention around the clock.

  Being sick more often than he was well left poor little Troy thin and weak. He would look at me with large, sad, sunken eyes staring out of his small pale face when Sundays came and I was to return to Winterhaven, for he knew he was confined to five more days of little company and enjoyment. Momma treated him like a walking germ, avoiding him whenever possible and, I found out when I returned one weekend, having him fed at a different time so she wouldn't have to be at the same table with him.

  In the spring he developed new allergies and had to be taken to see a skin specialist and an allergist almost on a weekly basis. First, they thought it was pollen and ragweed, then they thought it had to do with the fabrics in his suite, so Tony had everything changed: rugs, curtains, linens and quilts, but that didn't solve the problem. He still walked about with a running nose and coughed even on the warmest, clearest days. The hope was he would eventually grow out of the allergies, but until then, he was confined and given heavy dosages of various medicines, some taking his appetite away, some making him tired. He slept a lot, remained thin and small, and looked drained and depressed most of the time.

  Naturally, he withdrew into himself, spent most of his time playing with the toys Tony bought him and with creating his own toys. A number of his creations were very good and Tony even made one into a Tatterton Toy for children Troy's age.

  During the spring months Tony and I started horseback riding. He decided to teach me this himself. We would go for rides along the beach and over the dunes. Troy wanted desperately to come along and to ride Sniffles, his pony, but the allergist absolutely forbade his contact with animals. He couldn't have a puppy or a kitten, not even a hamster. It was so sad to see him standing on a hill, holding his nurse's hand and watching Tony and I start off for a ride along the beach, but there was nothing I could do about it.

  That winter and spring Momma was the happiest. I was doing what she wanted--spending most of my weekends with Tony and freeing her to indulge in her own activities. During the week Tony was very busy, and from what understood listening to him and to her, they often spent whole days without seeing each other. I wondered what had happened to that driving passion, those magnificent magical moments when the world had looked as though it would end unless they broke apart my loving family so that the two of them could be together all the time.

  Daddy's postcards and letters came regularly through the winter months and into the spring. Then, around May. I noticed that the next letter was long in coming. Just when I thought it would never come and had begun to fear that something had happened to Daddy it arrived. In it he mentioned someone new, mentioned her as if I had always known her.

  "And today," he began in his middle paragraph, "Mildred Pierce and I had lunch on the Champs Elysees. It was a magnificent day and the street was filled with cars and people and tourists from everywhere, a veritable parade of fashion. It was the first real day off I had taken in ages. We went to museums and I even let her talk me into going to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Mildred is great company."

  Mildred Pierce? I thought. Who was Mildred Pierce? I thumbed through all the letters Daddy had written just to be sure he had never mentioned her before. Was she a secretary, a relative, some wellknown person in his business should have known? It was very confusing, but there was also something in the way Daddy wrote "Mildred is great company" that made my heart skip a beat.

  How old was this Mildred Pierce? Could she be someone's daughter, someone my own age perhaps, someone who was taking his attention from me? I would have so loved to have had lunch with Daddy on the Champs Elysees and gone to the top of t
he Eiffel Tower with him, too. It wasn't fair.

  And then I thought it was terribly selfish of me to begrudge Daddy this day which he called his first day off in ages. I couldn't wait until his next letter to see if he would mention her again. He didn't, but he did say he thought his return to the States would be delayed a little and he didn't give a reason, but I sensed something between the lines. Momma would have called my feelings feminine intuition. All I knew was that in my heart of hearts I feared being replaced, feared losing the love of my faraway father. I held my breath every time I opened one of Daddy's letters or read one of his postcards after that.

  And then it came in early June. Daddy wrote to tell me he would be returning in mid-July. He said he was anxious to see me and he was anxious for me to meet Mildred Pierce.

  I could understand why my father would be happy to meet someone to help fill his time. But he wrote so enthusiastically about this person, it made my heart worry and hurt.

  "Mildred and I are very compatible. She's interested in the things that interest me and she is a lovely, gentle person. I'm sure you will like her. Being with her is like being able to push away the gray clouds and bring sunshine back into my life."

  But Daddy, I cried inside, I thought I was the one who brought sunshine into your life. Is this really why you stayed away from me so long, why you lingered in Europe? Has someone stolen that part of your heart I thought had been left for me?

  And what if this Mildred Pierce doesn't like me or want to be around me, or is jealous of me? Would you have even less to do with me than you do now? I looked at Daddy's photograph on my dresser for a long time before asking the scariest question, If Daddy got a new family, where would I belong?

  One evening at dinner in mid-June, Tony announced his intention to go to Europe on business. Unlike the times when Daddy would make such an announcement, Momma did not become immediately unhappy, complain and pout. She was very

  understanding and very interested in what he was going to do.

  "There's this company in Europe," he explained, "that I recently learned about, a company similar to my own, making different sorts of things for the very wealthy classes in Europe. One of the things I'm afraid of is its expansion to the United States. It might steal away our clientele. I want to learn more about them and see firsthand what sort of competition might be in store for me.

  "Why don't you come along, Jillian? It could be like a second honeymoon. I don't have to spend all my time on business. There's a lot of sightseeing to do."

  "Europe? Now?" Momma groaned. "It's too hot and the Continent is overrun with tourists. Besides, I told you think we should consider redoing some of the rooms in Earthy, and you said I could go ahead and meet with my decorators. I'll have to get started on that."

  Tony wasn't happy, but he left for Europe by himself a few days later. Momma seemed relieved, as if a major responsibility had been lifted from her shoulders. She started on the redecorating

  immediately, having long meetings with decorators, filling the music room with books and books of wallpaper, carpet, and fabric samples, as well as pictures of furniture. She gathered her experts around her like a queen and her entourage, and went from room to room discussing, listening to suggestions, making suggestions. She even had them to dinner, where she continued the discussions of fashions, colors and styles into the evening.

  The school year ended and all of us in the "special club" said our goodbyes, promising to write each other as much as possible. I felt terrible about never having invited anyone, even just Jennifer, to Farthy, but each time they had inquired, I had been forced to come up with another good excuse, leaning heavily on Troy's health problems. I knew they were all very disappointed, especially Jennifer, but there was little I could do. Whenever I had brought it up, Momma would go into a panic, sometimes even a rage. It was too soon . . . wait, wait, WAIT. I grew tired of asking.

  But a little less than a week after Tony had left for Europe, Momma surprised me by telling me I could invite Jennifer to spend a few days at Farthy. I called her at home and told her. She squealed with delight. It had been only a week since school ended for the year, but we already missed each other terribly.

  She was very impressed with Farthy. I took her horseback riding on the beach and we went swimming every day. She loved Troy, who enjoyed showing her about and demonstrating his toys. Unfortunately, he was not permitted to go swimming yet. There was even some question about his being allergic to the chlorine.

  Jennifer was fascinated by Momma. She won Momma over immediately when she told her she couldn't believe someone who looked as young as she did had a daughter as old as I was. Momma asked her dozens of questions about her family and her home in Hyannis at dinner every night. And then Momma made all sorts of suggestions to her about how to wear her hair, what clothes would be most flattering, what color lipstick to wear. Jennifer listened attentively, her eyes big, nodding as if she were sitting with a movie star. Afterward, she couldn't stop talking about how beautiful and sophisticated Momma was.

  We sat up in my room until very late every night talking.

  "Your mother is so young-looking and beautiful. Was your daddy heartbroken when they got a divorce?" she asked one night.

  I recalled Daddy that morning on The Jillian when he came to my room to tell me what Momma had decided.

  "Yes, but he blamed himself and kept himself as busy as possible so as not to think about it. Momma always said he was married to his business as much as he was married to her," I added sadly, for I had come to believe that some of that was true.

  "I can't imagine your daddy not wanting to throw himself off the ship when he learned he would lose her," Jennifer said. Then the smile that accompanied this romantic fantasy wilted and she turned away, her eyes filling rapidly with tears.

  "What's wrong, Jen?"

  "It's my mother," she said, weeping. "She's dating another man, a man who was once my daddy's best friend." She spun around, her eyes wet, but her face on fire. "I told her I hated him and he would never be my daddy and I hated her for seeing him."

  "What did she say?" I asked, holding my breath.

  "She cried and told me she couldn't help it because she was lonely. It wasn't enough that she had me and my sister. She needed a husband.

  "But I don't want another man living in my house and using my daddy's things!" she cried. "I don't, I don't!" She began to sob. I embraced her and held her and then I told her about Daddy and Mildred Pierce. She stopped crying and listened anti soon felt sorry for me.

  "Oh Leigh," she said, "adults are so very selfish. I'll never be like that when I'm their age. Will you?"

  "I don't know, Jen. I hope not, but I don't know." What was the point in making vows and promises? We could swear on a thousand Bibles that we would never betray each other or the people we loved, but Fate seized us in its grip sometimes and made us forget our dreams. I was tempted to tell Jennifer the truth about me, the truth about Momma and what she had done, but I was too ashamed of it. It was a secret that would burn in my heart only, no matter how painful that fire was.

  We were both very sad when it came time for her to go home. She asked Momma if I could come visit her and Momma replied, "We'll see. There is much we have to do here this summer, dear, and Leigh has to help with Troy."

  Help with Troy? I thought. Since when did Momma worry about how Troy was occupied? What she really meant was help with Tony, but she couldn't say that. Oh, once again my Momma's selfishness made her wants come before mine. It was unnatural, I thought, to put me in charge of entertaining her new husband.

  One day in late June dawned very hot and I had spent most of the afternoon lounging at the pool and reading. Troy and his nurse had been with me for a few hours since the doctor had put Troy on a schedule of sunshine, now that summer was in full swing. I remained at the pool until the sun started to drop behind the trees and cooler, long shadows crept up over the patio to cover the lounge chairs and me. I slipped into my robe, put my towel
around my neck, and started for the house. When I entered, I heard Momma's and Tony's voices coming from the living room on the right.

  "Leigh!" Tony cried as soon as I peeked in. "I've missed you! Look how tan you've gotten in only this short time." "Hello, Tony. How was your trip?"

  "Quite successful," he said and smiled at Momma. She sat back on the new Charles II, ornately carved and caned armchair she had bought as part of redecorating the room. With her pear-shaped diamond earrings dangling, her hair swept back perfectly, not a strand out of place, and her fingers covered with emerald, diamond, ruby and sapphire rings, she looked like a queen. She wore a white lace dress with a sweetheart neckline so that her most precious diamond necklace lay softly on top of her rose-tinted bosom.

  "Tony has a wonderful new idea," she proclaimed. "And he wants you to be a part of it."

  "Me?" I stepped farther into the room.

  "Remember I told you about this European company that was making toys similar in style and purpose to the Tatterton toys?" he said quickly. I nodded. "Well, they have some of the finest artisans in the world in Europe. What am I saying? They do have the finest. But," he added winking first at me and then at Mamma, "I have some of them now.

  "In any case, during my travels to one of their factories in a small village just outside of Zurich, I discovered they were making something called 'portrait dolls.--

  "Portrait dolls?" I slipped onto the settee to listen.

  "Yes. Brilliant idea!" he said, clenching his hands into fists and lifting them to punctuate his enthusiasm. "None are more enamored and entranced with themselves than the wealthy. They think their money and position buy them immortality, so they all have their portraits painted by the best artists and photographs taken by the best photographers. They will go to any length, spend any amount of money, to get it done to their satisfaction."