by Alison Bond
‘What kind of situation?’
‘A large number of press have gathered. Here at the Peninsula we like to try and contain such incidents. We have the privacy of our other guests to consider.’
‘Huh?’
Would it be possible for you to see them, or organize someone to give a statement on your behalf?’
‘I should come down?’
‘That would be ideal.’
If Kelly had been a little more awake she might have reconsidered. Or at least reached for something other than the pair of jeans screwed up on the floor and the t-shirt she’d been watching movies in all night, covered in mini-bar peanut crumbs.
The lobby of the hotel was totally mobbed. She wondered what was going on. She walked curiously towards the front desk.
‘There she is!’ All at once people surged forward, each brandishing their weapon of choice – photo lens, television camera or microphone. ‘Kelly? Kelly Coltrane? How did you feel when you found out your mom had killed herself?’
There was a sharp elbow in her back and she stumbled forward.
‘Kelly! When was the last time you saw Ruby?’
‘Is it true you’re a test-tube baby?’
Someone had a camera a few inches away from her face, another had a microphone up her nose, still another bashed her over the head with his Dictaphone. ‘Kelly? Where were you when you heard the news?’
She was pushed from all directions as if she was in the mosh pit at a rock concert. At one point she was quite sure that both her feet were off the ground and she was been carried along by the crush. It was confusing and scary, too much was happening at once. Just fifteen minutes earlier she had been sound asleep.
‘Kelly!’ A broad English accent stood out in the drawl. ‘Chrissie Merton, Daily Mirror. What do you think of Los Angeles and is it true that Ruby wanted to have an abortion?’
Kelly tucked her arms around herself and put her head down. She ignored all the questions and concentrated on edging back towards the elevator, one slow step at a time. Her heart was racing and she had no idea what she was supposed to say. All she wanted to do was escape.
The pack sensed they were losing their quarry and changed tactics.
‘Guys, guys, give her some space, yeah?’
‘You okay, Kelly?’
‘Any message you’d like to send back home?’
She continued to ignore them. A small man in a grey suit slid up close to her. ‘There’ll be plenty of offers for your story,’ he said. ‘But bear in mind we’re the only ones that’ll let you keep the clothes.’ He waved his business card at her but she refused to take it.
‘One picture, Kelly, just one picture,’ said a photographer who had been flashing constantly since she arrived and must have taken a hundred.
A couple more steps and she reached the elevator. She slammed the button with the heel of her hand and the doors opened. She stepped inside and backed as far away as she could, still looking down. The brief seconds it took for the doors to close again dragged by agonizingly as the camera flashes continued but eventually they did close and the abrupt silence inside the elevator was deafening. What the hell?
Upstairs, the corridor was deserted and she slipped into her room wondering if they would stay there all day. Would she ever be able to leave the hotel again? She’d have to order room service. Now that she was safely away from all of them she stopped being frightened and with a shock realized that the wobble inside her was no longer fear but a sensation bordering on excitement.
She was being hounded by the press. Crazy. Was she really that important? She’d had a famous mother she’d never met, that was all. Surely it wasn’t enough to send the world’s press to her door? All those strangers thinking that other strangers, the public, had a vested interest in who she was and how she felt inside. Was she supposed to talk to them, to sell her story? What did they want from her?
And how had they known where she was?
There was only a handful of people who knew she was in Los Angeles and she tried to think why any of them would have tipped off the press. Tomas – doubtful. Dad, Jez? – no way. Octavia? Max Parker?
She caught sight of herself in the mirror and groaned. Had she really just gone downstairs looking like this? A smear of yesterday’s mascara was on her cheek. She hadn’t even brushed her hair. She went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face.
This was ridiculous. The phone was ringing again. She answered it. ‘No more calls,’ she said.
‘Kelly?’
‘Dad!’
Sean sounded worried. ‘Are you okay? What’s going on?’ he asked. ‘I’ve got a lady from the Sun newspaper outside the house.’
The Sun? She was going to be in the Sun? But… she was just Kelly, it was hard to get her head around. ‘I’ve got the rest of them over here,’ said Kelly. ‘Downstairs. Dad, they know about Ruby. What do I do?’
‘You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of,’ said Sean. ‘Go down there with your head held high.’
‘I can’t.’
‘’Course you can,’ said Sean. ‘Come on, Kelly. Isn’t this what you wanted? A bit of adventure?’
There was a loud banging at the door and she jumped. They’d found her.
‘What was that?’ said Sean.
‘The door.’
‘Who is it?’
‘Dad, I can’t see through doors.’
‘Go and have a look.’
Through the peephole she saw Sheridan, Max’s assistant.
‘It’s a girl from Max’s office,’ she said. She heard Sheridan shouting, ‘Kelly? Hi, it’s Sheridan, from CMG? Max sent me.’
‘Go with her,’ said Sean. ‘Max will look after you.’
‘I’m scared,’ said Kelly. ‘I’m not what they’re expecting. Ruby’s daughter shouldn’t be someone like me.’
‘Why not? You’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘Try to enjoy yourself. Call me later.’
‘Hello? Kelly?’ Sheridan again.
Kelly said goodbye and hung up. She thought of Sofia and how gracefully she courted the press, and winced when she looked in the mirror again. There was no comparison. Sofia was so obviously the rightful heir to Ruby’s dazzling reputation. Her dad was blinded by his fatherly affections. Couldn’t he see that Kelly would be a disappointment to Ruby’s fans? She didn’t fit in.
She opened the door.
‘Great, you’re here,’ said Sheridan. She walked into the room uninvited and Kelly could see her inspecting the detritus of her marathon movie session.
‘I would have cleaned up,’ said Kelly sarcastically, ‘but I wasn’t expecting company.’
‘And now you have more than you need, right?’ Sheridan grinned. ‘What a nightmare for you. Don’t worry, I have a car parked at the service entrance. Why don’t you take a shower and get yourself together? Time to check out. Take as long as you need.’
Kelly spent ten minutes under the hot spray and when she came out Sheridan had packed up all her belongings except a pair of clean jeans, a plain white shirt and a change of underwear. Kelly was mortified to think of this freshly pressed young woman seeing all her dirty laundry.
‘Put those on,’ said Sheridan. ‘I’ll give you some privacy.’ She went into the bathroom and Kelly could hear her collecting all the personal stuff in there. Should she ask her to nick the complimentary toiletries or would she do that anyway?
Mechanically she dressed. It was soothing to relinquish all control to another person for a while. Sometimes the best way to deal with the unexpected was to let someone else do it for you. Was it like this for Ruby? She had Max to hold her hand through everything, all the scandals and the bad publicity. Kelly thought that maybe that would give you the courage to take risks. Ruby could make a mess and know that she didn’t have to clear it up. How many times had Max come to her rescue? Thinking about it gave Kelly a shot of courage. Ruby had had to deal with this attention for most of her life. What would her mother say if she could see her now, pan
icked by a few photographers? She could either crumble under pressure or try to savour it. She had a feeling that Ruby would tell her to savour it.
‘Are you decent?’ Sheridan came out of the bathroom and looked her up and down. ‘Lipgloss?’
Kelly looked blank. Sheridan dipped into her designer purse and produced a Juicy Tube. ‘Here.’ Kelly applied the sticky gloss and rubbed her lips together. ‘Ready?’
‘I suppose.’ Ready for what? Kelly had absolutely no idea what to expect.
‘Then let’s go.’
In the elevator Sheridan took the sunglasses perched on top of her head and gave them to Kelly. ‘Wear these. Just in case.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Don’t take them off even when they ask you to. Air of mystery, get it?’
‘Okay’
They took the elevator all the way down to the basement and then emerged in what looked like a laundry and walked through the piles of linen to an elevator on the other side. By this point Kelly was wide awake, excited and more than a little amused. The funny side, she kept reminding herself, see the funny side. It helped. She was pretending that she was in a witness protection programme or something, a television show about covert FBI agents and underground passages. Her adrenalin was pumping and in her head she heard the high-tempo soundtrack that would accompany this part of her life story if it was made into a movie.
The elevator opened on to an empty stairwell. ‘Come on,’ said Sheridan and kicked the fire door open.
The sudden sunlight would have been blinding without the expensive shades. A small group of photographers was running towards them shouting her name. They clicked and flashed as Kelly caught a glimpse of herself reflected in the tinted windows of a black car that pulled up on to the sidewalk. Sheridan bundled her into the back of it. ‘Go!’ she said to the driver.
Kelly sank into the car seat and exhaled. She thought the shades made her look quite glamorous.
The car accelerated and the press pack scattered, still snapping pictures as they fell back. In a moment they were out of sight.
Sheridan kept checking the rear window for a minute or two, then turned around. ‘It’s okay. We lost them.’
Kelly laughed out loud. ‘That was fun,’ she said. ‘Can we do that again?’
‘You might have to,’ said Sheridan. ‘Last month I had to move an actress four times before we lost them.’
‘Oh.’ Kelly had been kidding. Where are we going?’
‘That’s up to you. There are a bunch of hotels we could try but, well, they’re quite expensive. Max thought you might be happier at Octavia’s.’
Goodbye, free hotel room, she thought. Hello, happy families.
Max called Octavia and explained the situation. What could she possibly say? She had a vague, wine-soaked recollection of inviting the girl to stay with them after the funeral. Besides, the closer she drew Kelly into the bosom of the family, the less likely Kelly was to turn on them if she didn’t like the size of her inheritance. She’d told Max that of course Kelly must come here, they’d look after her, he shouldn’t worry about a thing.
Octavia greeted Kelly standing in the front doorway as cool and crisp as an iceberg lettuce in a pale blue shirt and beige chinos, a white sweater tied around her shoulders. The perfect at home outfit.
‘Welcome,’ she said.
The driver deposited her bag on the doorstep and Kelly went to pick it up.
‘Is that all your luggage?’ asked Octavia. ‘Leave it, the maid will get it.’ She called out over her shoulder, ‘Carmen?’
She ushered Kelly into the house, ignoring Sheridan. Kelly had time to throw a quick ‘Thank you’ at her and then Octavia closed the door.
‘Max called,’ she said. ‘Said you needed a safe haven. Carmen made up a bed in the guesthouse.’ She led Kelly out into the extensive back garden, with a swimming pool clad in plastic rocks complete with tropical waterfall. She saw Kelly looking at it. ‘Do you love it?’ she said. ‘We just had it remodelled.’
‘It’s impressive.’
‘Please feel free to use it. There are plenty of clean towels in the changing room.’
Why would you need a changing room when the pool was in your back garden?
The guesthouse was a simple wooden structure dwarfed by the main house but with ample room for a family of four.
‘Carmen will bring you anything you need. You can use the intercom.’ She indicated a complicated panel of buttons by the door. ‘Make yourself at home.’ With that Octavia left.
Kelly sat down on the edge of the bed, noticing the firmness of the mattress and the immaculate white sheets. An hour ago she had been asleep, an anonymous girl in a swanky hotel room that was really too good for her. Now she was hunted and hiding. This was not what she had expected from her trip. Or was it? Nobody had made her come out here. Did she want to acknowledge her mother so that the world would find out? As if in some way the world knowing about her would compensate for Ruby not wanting to know her at all? It still burned. Why hadn’t Ruby wanted her to know the truth about who she was? She couldn’t help but compare Octavia’s modern mansion with Sean’s decrepit old house in the valley.
Watching those films last night, Kelly had expected to feel sad or angry but instead she had felt proud, which was unsettling. Whatever she had done, whatever mistakes she had made, her mother had been a truly great actress and many people would mourn her loss. The more Kelly found out about Ruby, the more she missed her. She’d grown up with a dull sense of loss for an indefinite mother figure, but what she felt now was sharper and more painful. She was talented, brilliant even, and Kelly wished she’d had the chance to tell her so.
She unpacked her bag, which took all of three minutes, and lay down hoping to catch up on some sleep. As she drifted away she noticed that the view of the gardens, with jacaranda blossoms gently fluttering against the sliding-glass doors, the distant sound of cascading water and a butterfly dancing just outside, was pretty. Almost as pretty as home.
Kelly awoke to an abrupt cackle. She jumped up and for the second time that day she had forgotten where she was.
The intercom was flashing and a tinny, distorted voice was saying, ‘Hello?’ Kelly stumbled towards it.
Are you there? Press the red button on the side,’ said the voice, which Kelly now recognized as Sofia’s.
‘Hello?’
‘Great,’ said Sofia, ‘You’re there. I wanna talk to you, come up.’
The house was so enormous that Kelly had to ask Carmen for directions to Sofia’s bedroom, and the maid insisted on escorting her, which made Kelly feel both stupid and demanding. They climbed the ornate staircase, turned left at the landing and walked along a wide hallway. At the end of the hallway was a door painted pale pink like the inside of a seashell.
‘Sofia,’ said Carmen, and left her to it.
‘Thank you,’ Kelly called after her. She knocked on the door and pushed it open.
Sofia’s open-plan living space stretched endlessly before her. A bedroom with an en-suite bathroom and separate dressing room led through to a sitting room which looked like a stylist’s vision of rich bitch heaven. An L-shaped purple leather couch stood in the middle of the room, littered with black lace cushions and fake fur throws. There was a drinks area with a canary-yellow fridge, a couple of Boba stools and a mirrored bar. A plasma screen was set up so it could be viewed from any part of the room, with a games console plugged into it, trailing wires across the mosaic coffee table, threading through obstacles of remote controls and magazines. There was a haphazard pile of DVDs on the floor. The sophisticated stereo system was humming gently and the display flashed on pause.
On one wall was a collage of blown-up snapshots featuring Sofia with her weird cat, Sofia with a bunch of girlfriends, Sofia on a beach, Sofia at a concert with her arms wrapped around a man with a tattooed face. Hanging on the other wall were some framed magazine covers with Sofia on the cover and a blue neon light that said ‘blue’. There w
as a prevailing smell of perfume in the air.
Sofia was sitting at a flounced dressing table holding up two different earrings to her lobes. ‘What do you think?’ she said. ‘The bling or the gypsy?’
‘Bling,’ said Kelly, thinking that Sofia couldn’t pull off gypsy no matter how hard she tried and that her dressing room was bigger than Kelly’s bedroom back home.
Sofia stood up and walked to the bar. ‘Drink?’
It was eleven-thirty in the morning. But then it had been one hell of a morning. ‘Sure.’
Sofia opened the yellow fridge and pulled out a bottle of Cristal. She squeezed out the cork with practised ease and poured two glasses of the champagne.
‘So here’s the deal,’ she said. ‘I had to give that magazine something to stop them printing photos of my tits, so I gave them you. I couldn’t wait for Max; ever since Ruby died he couldn’t give a shit about the rest of us.’
Kelly wasn’t sure that she understood. ‘You told the papers about me?’
‘A magazine, yeah. But I guess word got out. It’s not a problem as long as they have the exclusive.’
Kelly was stunned. ‘Why would you do that?’
‘Listen, topless shots in St-Tropez? No problem. Photos of me getting felt up by an out-of-work record producer after a long night of cocktails? No, thank you.’
‘So you just told them where I was?’
‘No, I just told them you were in town. You checked in under your real name? It isn’t hard for them to find you. You gotta use an alias.’
‘I didn’t expect to be running from the press.’
‘Hey, don’t worry about it,’ said Sofia. ‘Totally not your fault.’
No. It’s yours. She was waiting for an apology from the girl she’d read so much about in the tabloids.
‘So we’re cool?’ said Sofia.
Kelly had two choices. She could insist that no, they definitely were not ‘cool’, and tell Sofia exactly what she thought of the little media bargain she’d made entirely at Kelly’s expense. Or, option two, she could say yes, they were cool, and perhaps get a little bit closer to the one member of the Valentine clan she thought she already knew.
