by Lynn Forth
Despite her best intentions, Jane rolled her eyes sceptically.
Laughing, Jack seized her in his arms. ‘You wait till you have seen Chinatown, and had a ride on the street cars.’
‘OK. OK. I’m prepared to be won over.’ How could she resist this man? The way she felt right now, he could convince her black was white, and the thought of exploring this vibrant city with him was very tempting.
‘If Charlie is doing as well as he was last night, I don’t know how needed I will be. To be honest, I feel a bit of a spare part sometimes; Milly and Dad are much better at the bedside stuff than me. As a self-confessed medico-phobe, I’ve tried to avoid hospitals all my life. I haven’t a clue what all the pinging and dinging machines are for.’ She shrugged. ‘But I think my main reason to be there is just to support them. The hospital is my first priority, but I would love to see ‘Frisco. I’ll ring you as soon as I know what’s happening. No promises. No, let me go, let go…my taxi is waiting.’
One last, long, lingering kiss and she practically floated out of the hotel on a cloud of bliss and sensual fulfilment.
Both Milly and her father couldn’t fail to notice her happy glow, and the spring in her step. She knew they were bound to have discussed Jack and her relationship with him, but she had always been the most private of the sisters. They knew she would tell them what they needed to know in her own good time.
She was the only sister to have evaded the clutches of love so far. The irony, that she wrote endlessly about love for a living, was not lost on her family.
Tempted though she was to sing her joy from the rooftops, Jane fully immersed herself in the needs of her family. Forcing an exhausted Milly to rest, she even managed to convince her father to take a little walk in the sunshine to shift the pallor from his cheeks. She also ensured that both Milly and her father had something to eat, and that they had time to phone home and update the rest of the family on Charlie’s progress.
She sat by the bedside of her fragile nephew, surrounded by the hi-tech signalling machines and constant wiggly lines on the monitors. Studying his little face and body, she was convinced that he seemed to be resting more easily, his colour was less pale, and his eyes flickered slightly now and again.
Jane felt sure that everything…everything…was going to turn out well.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Still glowing inside, Jane phoned Jack as soon as she could get a break from her duties, but his phone was switched off. Disappointed and vaguely surprised, she left him a message giving him an update on Charlie.
At every opportunity during the morning, she tried in vain to contact him. Even if the phone rang, he didn’t answer. At first, she left him loving messages. Without directly referring to their night of passion, she nevertheless hinted wickedly at shared delights to come.
But with no response, eventually she could think of nothing more to say. She didn’t want to sound foolish or as if she was pestering him. Puzzled and increasingly uneasy, she tried to rationalise why he wasn’t answering. She told herself that he was undoubtedly engrossed in what he was doing, and hardly likely to be loafing around just waiting for her to call.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t dispel a troubling cloud of disquiet. Uneasily, she remembered that she had been photographed by a paparazzi as she had left the hotel that morning.
Initially, she hadn’t thought much of it, and had still been floating on a cloud of happiness. But now, as her concern grew, she recalled that she and Jack had been ‘papped’ as they had boarded the Lear jet to leave Hollywood. Jack was extremely well known, so he obviously attracted the attention of the inevitable photographers wherever he went.
But this morning, why would anyone want a picture of her leaving the hotel? Especially as she was on her own? If only she could contact him, he would probably be able to put her anxieties to rest.
It was late in the day when she finally had a chance to take a break from Charlie’s bedside. When she stepped outside and switched on her mobile phone, she saw there was a text from him.
Returned home. Something urgent has come up. Jack
Jane was jolted by the impersonal curtness of the message. No kisses. No ‘love’. Just ‘Jack’.
The startling brusqueness of the message gave her a severe jolt. As her heart began pounding in alarm, she once again tried to calm her growing fears.
Was she expecting too much? Men were always brisker in their messages than women, and texts were always brief. Besides, if he was flying back to Hollywood, he would have his phone switched off, which would explain why he wasn’t answering her calls. No doubt there was a simple explanation. Perhaps a problem with a script he was urgently needed to fix? It could be any number of things.
But still the message filled her with foreboding.
Later, sitting alone by Charlie’s bedside to allow her father and sister to have a meal, Jane had time to think. All her worst fears came back to haunt her.
She had given herself to him freely, passionately. He had been tender, loving… So why was he now unattainable?
Please, please, don’t let it be a Darren situation all over again.
She vigorously pushed these fears down. Why did she always doubt herself so much? One bad judgement in men didn’t mean they were all manipulative schemers.
Once she got back to the hotel, she would probably find some clues about this sudden emergency. Perhaps he had even left her a note. Anyway, by then his plane would surely have landed and he would be available to talk to her and dispel her mounting unease.
It was late when Milly and her father, reassured by Charlie’s progress and by Jane’s watchful presence at his bedside, relieved her from her post.
At last she could hurry back to the hotel.
What a contrast to the previous night, when a smiling Jack had been waiting up, reading her book, his tall frame outlined in a pool of light. This time, the room was in darkness.
Quickly, she hunted around; no note. Dismayed, she looked in the wardrobe. All Jack’s clothes had gone, leaving behind just a lingering lemony aroma. He had even taken all the remaining copies of her book. She searched for some explanation for his sudden departure. But there was nothing.
Heart in her mouth, she tried to phone him once more. It rang, but no answer. Trying to keep her voice calm, she left yet another puzzled message. He must know she was trying to contact him. Why wouldn’t he answer?
There had to be a reason.
Then, like a body blow, it hit her.
What if her suspicions about the bet had been right? Scott was convinced there had been a wager between them about seducing her. Jack had denied it, of course…and she had believed him.
Had he gone back to Scott to boast triumphantly about his conquest? And collect his winnings.
Had she been a gullible fool? She had believed he cared for her, and spent a wonderful night in his bed, in his arms.
But was that it? Game over.
As she sank wearily onto a chair, the doubts and fears swirled around her head, insistent voices running through her head.
He no longer needed her; didn’t even see the point of speaking to her; knew that after a while she would realise what had happened. She had been nothing but a pawn in a cynical Hollywood power-play between two competitive, manipulative, unbelievably cruel rivals.
No! She shook her head to dispel the voices, the fears. Surely not.
Everything in her heart screamed that Jack was sincere, that he did care for her. But as the long, dark, lonely night wore on and there was no phone call, reason told her heart there was no other explanation.
All her doubts returned. Of course, what could such a handsome, successful, sophisticated man see in her? She was inexperienced in the ways of the world, wasn’t groomed to Hollywood standards – as Scott had been all too quick to point out.
She had foolishly thought she’d learned her lesson with Darren, but no. How artless and naïve she had been. And how easy to seduce. Jack had only had to mak
e her believe he cared, and she had fallen headlong into his trap…had fallen headlong in love.
He had probably realised that if he waited long enough, or was helpful enough, she would fall – and fall willingly.
She curled into a miserable ball in the middle of her huge, empty bed, and remembered with embarrassment just how willing she had been.
She fought to believe in him. Wonderful memories of his warm smile, his caring brown eyes, his strong arms holding her close, kept filling her mind. But no matter how many examples she could find of his love and his sincerity, that creeping dread had its tentacles around her heart, squeezing and squeezing.
By dawn, exhausted, she gave up all hope of sleep. She could no longer stand the storm raging in her head, so got up and dragged herself into the shower.
As if reflecting her mood, the famous ‘Frisco fog had descended and obliterated the view from her window. Literal, and metaphorical, grey tendrils of mist enveloped her as she made her weary way to the hospital.
Concerned, her father could see immediately the contrast in his daughter from the previous day. He and Milly took in the hollow, red-rimmed eyes, but they also recognised Jane’s ‘private face’ – one they knew so well, which shut out all enquiries.
Father and daughter exchanged looks, but neither broached the subject of Jack. Instead, Milly hugged her sister and rushed into giving an update on Charlie’s progress.
During the night, he had opened his eyes briefly to smile at his tearful mum, and this morning had struggled to sit up before being sedated again to allow his little body time to heal more efficiently.
Although Jane was delighted at such encouraging developments, her father could see that her own private misery kept intruding on her thoughts. He was a firm believer in keeping busy as the best antidote to what he called ‘the glums’, so he deliberately found many small tasks for his daughter to do all day.
He had shirts that needed taking to a nearby laundry, there were small items of shopping he and Milly needed. One way or another, he managed to keep her engaged for much of the day, hoping against hope to protect her from…from something that looked as if it had broken her heart.
Occupying herself in running errands for her father and sister, and still wrapped in her cloak of desolation, Jane was vaguely aware of a frisson of interest whenever she passed the nurses’ station.
She couldn’t shake herself out of her bewildered state of mind, and kept returning to all the contradictions surrounding her relationship with Jack.
All her instincts told her of his sincerity, that he had genuine feelings towards her, yet nothing could account for that brusque message and his continued silence. Unless he had won his wager and was even now laughing at her simple naivety.
She was bewildered by the fact that, once again, that morning she had been photographed as she had left the hotel. She had been tempted to ask the seedy little man why, but he had quickly sped off on a high-powered motorbike, so she had just shrugged. In the sum of horrible things happening to her, it barely registered.
But even engrossed as she was in her introspection, she couldn’t help but notice two people in the visitors’ waiting room staring at her whilst they were reading a luridly-coloured Hollywood gossip magazine.
Disturbed, she waited till they left, then she deliberately went in search of the magazine.
On the front cover was a picture of a tall, slim redhead, in a short silver dress and a plunging neckline.
It was her!
Then the headline hit her like a physical blow.
My Nights of Passion with Sexy Scott
The strapline was just as bad.
‘What a stud!’ gasped the flame-haired beauty, as she told of her torrid affair with screen sex god, Scott Flynn.
There was no doubting who the anonymous flame-haired beauty was. The photo was of her arriving at Bruno’s party, in that revealing dress, all groomed and glossy.
And a grinning Scott, with his arm around her waist.
Then inside, on a double page spread, was another picture of Scott, slightly worse for wear, leaving the party with her arms around him, supporting him. There were further smaller photos of them together in his car, looking definitely dishevelled, being driven through the gates of Scott’s house.
As disbelief flooded over her, her legs gave way beneath her and she sat down on one of the waiting room chairs with a thump.
With pulsating heart, her eyes scanned the story.
It was a classic kiss-and-tell.
According to the article, the girl – Arabella Jones, a feisty English novelist famed for her racy stories – was caught up in a whirlwind passionate affair with the heartthrob star of her latest film, the soon-to-be-released Frisco Frolics. In a case of true life echoing the erotic outlines of her fiery plot, Arabella had fallen for Scott’s devastating good looks, and boyish charms.
Arabella breathlessly confided to the magazine’s reporter how she had been so overcome by the intensity of their first meeting on the film set, that she had swooned at Scott’s feet and he had romantically carried her off in his arms to the waiting ambulance.
In hospital, he had mounted an anxious vigil by her bedside, and generously offered her the shelter of his swish Hollywood home while she recovered.
But the proximity of her hero had proved too much for the starstruck writer, and they had soon embarked on a torrid affair which had threatened Scott’s relationship with long-term girlfriend and film co-star, Savannah Shaw. Heartbroken, Savannah had become a recluse and refused to talk to the press.
There followed steamy details of Arabella and Scott’s sex life, including how many times a night Scott had supposedly made love to her. And all the locations in the house where they had frenziedly, and uninhibitedly, coupled.
In an attempt to keep the affair secret, Scott had persuaded his old friend and Oscar-winning script writer, Jack Clancy, to whisk Arabella away from prying eyes to San Francisco. But the magazine’s ace photographer had managed to snatch a shot of them furtively boarding the plane. And there was the photo of Jack and Arabella to prove it.
The article finished with the reason for the story. Aware of the futility of keeping their relationship a secret, Arabella had revealed all the passionate and intimate details in an exclusive interview with the magazine. She had sold them her story.
Jane just stared and stared at the article in disbelief. The colour drained from her face, and her eyes glazed with horror.
She flung the magazine down, unable to read any more of this enraging mixture of sleazy exaggeration and downright lies.
Where had they got this from? Who could have done it? And how dare they say this information had come from her?
She was shaking with anger, when a horrifying thought hit her like a blow.
Jack would have seen this.
He would assume she had given the interview. He had warned her about kiss-and-tell stories.
No. She shook her head. He would never believe she would do anything as sordid as this.
He, of all people, would know that she had not submitted to the sex god’s seduction. She had told him how uneasy she had felt at all Scott’s advances. Jack would dismiss the article as a pack of lies.
But would he? She sank back into the chair as she remembered telling Jack that she had found a way to raise the money her family needed for Charlie’s operation. She recalled her own words…that she had done something she didn’t like doing, but had been forced into.
He would think she had sold this story for money.
More and more pieces clicked into place. That’s why she had been photographed leaving the hotel, why those people had been sniggering.
This was all too horrible.
But what could she do? Her mind was in a whirl.
The first thing must be to contact Jack. He had to believe she didn’t do this. But who did? Who would?
She rushed out of the hospital, and desperately rang Jack’s number again. There was no answer
.
In despair, she imagined him seeing her number and ignoring the call. Sobbing, she left a message on his voicemail.
‘Jack, I’ve just read that horrible article about me and Scott. You have to believe me, I didn’t have anything to do with that… I didn’t… I wouldn’t… I couldn’t. Please, please believe me. I don’t know who spoke to them, but it wasn’t anything to do with me. Oh Jack, please phone me. Let me talk to you. Please.’ Heartbroken, she rang off. There was nothing more she could say.
All the evidence was against her.
Millie found her sitting outside on a bench, desperately clutching the magazine, shaking her head and weeping in utter desolation.
‘Jane, whatever is wrong?’
In answer, Jane held out the magazine.
Milly looked shocked at the glossy, glamorous pictures of her sister as she had never seen her before. ‘Jane, is this…?’
‘It’s not true. Any of it,’ she sobbed. ‘I don’t know who they spoke to, but it wasn’t me.’
‘But these pictures? That’s you in that dress, isn’t it? You with Scott?’
‘I know it looks bad. We can’t let Dad see it.’
‘He already has,’ a quiet voice said behind her.
Jane spun round to find her father standing holding another copy of the magazine. ‘A “kind” nurse showed it to me earlier. Apparently, you’re quite famous in the hospital, Janey girl.’ He smiled reassuringly.
‘And before you say anything, let me tell you that I don’t believe a word of it.’
Relieved, Jane stood up and flung herself into her father’s arms.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘Let’s get to the bottom of this mess, shall we?’
Haltingly, and for the first time, Jane told them the true and far-from-glamorous story of her Hollywood adventures.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Next morning, after another tormented night, Jane disconsolately began packing her case. Charlie was well on the mend. Amazingly, if he continued with his progress, he would soon be well enough to endure the flight home to England. There, he would be nursed in the local hospital close to their family.
