* * *
Shortly after returning to London, Serafina was taken ill.
Charlie was unsure what to do.
‘How bad is she?’ he demanded of her boyfriend, Archie, who had phoned to tell him.
‘Pretty bad,’ Archie replied glumly. ‘They took her to the hospital today. She was asking for you.’
‘What hospital? What’s her doctor’s number? Is she in a private room?’
Charlie telephoned the doctor and established that she had suffered a mild heart attack. ‘Should I fly in?’ he asked.
‘I don’t think that’s necessary,’ her doctor replied. ‘Although, of course, she’s getting on in years a bit, and you never know.’
Charlie hung up, despondent. If he were not so scared of flying he would get on a plane without hesitation. But the thought of sitting captive on an aeroplane, a piece of machinery that to his mind could disintegrate at any moment, was just too terrifying. He had already decided that when he did return to London it was going to be by train and ship.
The doctor’s words hung in his ears – ‘She’s getting on a bit.’ ‘You never know.’ He was in an agony of indecision.
Later that day Dindi returned from Acapulco. She burst into the house, laughing and chattering. ‘Acapulco was absolutely great, you should have come. The party was lovely, I met all sorts of people—’
‘Serafina’s very sick,’ he said gravely.
‘Oh, is she? By the way, what do you think of this idea. In All the World Loves a Stripper, you doing a sort of guest appearance, like a one-day shot as a gag? The publicity would be great. Jerry suggested it. I think he’s the greatest publicity guy ever, he really knows where it’s at. Do you know—’
‘Dindi, didn’t you hear me? I said Serafina is very sick.’ He stared at her in a white-faced rage.
‘I heard you. She’s sick. So what do you want me to do – a chorus of “Dixie”? Too much screwing at her age, that’s what—’
He slapped her hard across the face. Her hat fell off and the imprint of his hand blazed across her skin.
‘You bastard,’ she sobbed. ‘You lousy English bastard. What did you do that for?’
‘That’s my mother you’re talking about.’ He started to shout. ‘My mother is a fine woman and I don’t even want to hear her name coming out of your mouth. You are a tramp, Dindi, a tramp. Don’t think I don’t know what went on in Las Vegas after I left. Serafina was ashamed of you, ashamed!’
‘That old bat was ashamed of me. Why, I was embarrassed to be in the same company as that over-made-up old crow! How dare you talk about me, when she was screwing a fuckin’ gardener! That’s a hell of a mother you’ve got there, a real old—’
‘Out of my house. Pack your bags and get out.’
‘You’re kidding, aren’t you? This is California, baby, and you can get the hell out of my house.’
In disgust he turned his back to walk away.
Grabbing a silver-framed picture of Serafina from the piano, Dindi hurled it at him. ‘That’s what I think about your old mother,’ she yelled.
The photo frame shattered on the floor, Charlie bent to extract his mother’s picture. In a fury Dindi snatched it from him and ripped it in half. He slapped her again, and she spat at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘I know you tried to get me cut out of the film. I know you’re jealous of my success. You’re an old has-been with no friends. No friends, you hear me. Everyone on Roundabout hated you.’
Slowly he picked up the torn picture of his mother. ‘You know I’m very lucky.’ He forced his voice to be calm. ‘Very lucky that it didn’t take me too long to find out what a cunt I married.’ With that he walked out of the room, out of the house, got into the Lamborghini Miura, and drove off.
Dindi followed him, yelling insults until the car disappeared from sight. ‘Bastard! Prick!’ she muttered, until gradually the tears stopped and the mind started to work. It wasn’t too bad, it wasn’t too bad at all. And the publicity would be great. She could picture herself in court, blue eyes wide and innocent, demure little powder-pink dress. ‘Yes, he beat me, I know it was because he was jealous of my success. I put up with it as long as I could.’ The statement could be interrupted with a choked sob at that point.
‘I’ll fix that limey sonofabitch!’ she muttered. ‘I’ll fix him good!’
* * *
Charlie drove to the Beverly Hills Hotel. His mind was very clear, very calm. He phoned George at the house and told him to pack a bag for London. Then he made a reservation on the evening jet over the Pole. Next he called Marshall K. Marshall and obtained the name of the best lawyer in L.A.
He was able to see him before he left.
‘I want a divorce,’ he stated. ‘I don’t care what it costs, but I want to settle a lump sum and I want her off my back.’
Knowing Dindi’s love of money, he was sure her natural greed would persuade her to accept an outright payment and he wanted nothing more to do with her. The thought of paying alimony every month disgusted him.
‘It’s going to be mighty expensive,’ the lawyer said.
‘I know,’ Charlie replied. ‘Do it.’
* * *
Serafina’s face was worth the long hours of terror while strapped into his seat above the Atlantic.
‘You’re a good boy,’ she crooned.
He was shocked to see her without make-up. Ever since he could remember her face had been ornamented with blue eyeshadows, thick creamy pan-stiks, bright vermilion lipsticks.
Now she lay in the hospital bed, her skin a deathly mottled green, her eyes sunken and lifeless. For the first time he realized just how old his mother was.
‘I’m going to be all right, son,’ she said, ‘Archie’s looking after me.’
Archie, a shabby little man hunched in the corner, nodded eagerly. ‘I’m looking after her, Charlie boy, not to worry.’
Charlie knew she was going to die. Her tired, beaten face told him that. But he smiled and said, ‘Where’s all that life and vitality I was always hearing about? I thought you’d be dashing around making some tea.’
She managed to show her cracked, decayed teeth. ‘Soon, Charlie, soon.’ Then she appeared to fall into a sleep, and later that night she passed away.
* * *
Charlie went to the big house in Richmond and wandered around.
Downstairs it was in beautiful order, with the smart modern furniture put there by the decorator he had commissioned.
Upstairs the only two rooms that seemed to have been used were Serafina’s bedroom, and an adjoining dressing room where Archie slept.
Her room was flooded with pieces of her life. There were photos of Charlie everywhere. Pictures of him as a boy. Smiling blandly beneath a mask of pancake on his first stage appearance. Growing up to be a fat young man. Marrying Lorna, two blank un-lived-in faces setting off on life. A rare photo of his father, stern-faced. Serafina at the age of sixteen, a thin lively girl with luxuriant red ringlets.
Then came the photos of Charlie Brick – star. Meeting the Queen. Receiving an award. Going to a première – They were all there, a pictorial record of his life.
In her wardrobe hung her old stage dresses, musty and faded with age, but still smelling of the old days, the theatres, and greasepaint.
Charlie buried his nose in them and was assailed by so many memories that a lump formed and stayed in his throat.
It was hard to believe that Serafina was dead. His Serafina. His mother.
He slept that night in her big four-poster bed, and the next day he arranged the funeral and comforted Archie, who had broken down completely.
Charlie regretted not having brought him to Hollywood with Serafina. He had had no idea how much the funny little man cared.
* * *
Lorna phoned at once when she heard.
‘Do you want me to bring the children over?’ she asked.
‘No, I don’t think so. I’d like them at the funeral. It’s tomorrow. If you came to the house at ten p
erhaps we could all go together.’
‘Yes, of course. And Charlie, I’m really sorry. Serafina and I were never the best of friends, but she was a wonderful old lady, the children adored her.’
‘Thank you.’ He hung up, near to tears.
* * *
Lorna arrived the next day on time. It had been such a long time since he had seen her and she had changed. Her hair was longer, fluffier, and she had put on weight, but of course she had just had a baby.
She kissed him on the cheek, and the smell of her old familiar perfume made him think for a moment that nothing had changed between them.
‘My goodness, you’re thin,’ she exclaimed.
He hugged the children. Little Cindy was crying. ‘I want Serry, Daddy,’ she said.
Serafina had insisted that they never called her Grandma. ‘Do I look like a grandmother?’ she was always demanding of people.
George arrived in time for the funeral. He had been left behind to transfer Charlie’s personal belongings from the house in Bel Air to the Beverly Hills Hotel, and had then caught the next plane over. He decided not to mention that Dindi had thrown a huge party for what seemed like every dead-beat in L.A. the evening Charlie had left. He was merely relieved that his boss had caught on to her fairly quickly.
‘How long are you going to stay?’ Lorna asked Charlie as they drove to the cemetery.
He shrugged. ‘I suppose I’ll go straight back. I’m starting another film on the thirtieth. Besides, there’s nothing for me here.’ He looked at her pointedly.
‘I – I was talking to Jim, and he said it would be fine if you could come to our house for dinner before you go.’
He bit back a sharp retort. After all, she was trying to be nice. ‘No, love, sorry, I don’t think that would work out.’
‘If you change your mind we have an old place in Islington. We’ve got lots to do to it, but it will be lovely when we finish.’ She squeezed his arm impulsively. His cold, unaffectionate Lorna actually squeezed his arm. ‘I’m glad we can be friends, Charlie. I want to be friends. Jim and I are very happy, and I’m glad you remarried. Natalie wrote and told me she’s very pretty.’ Lorna laughed with no bitterness. ‘I was never pretty enough for you, Charlie.’ He went to interrupt but she continued, ‘No, don’t start telling me lies. As soon as you became a film star I could see all the new people we met thinking, “Huh, not so hot, he could do better than that.” ’
‘Not true,’ he objected.
‘Oh yes, it is. You know how bitchy everyone is in show business. We were at a party once and there were two girls discussing you in the loo. “Charlie Brick’s quite sexy,” one of them said – of course they didn’t know who I was – “Yes,” replied the other one, “and available too, with that wife he’s got tucked away somewhere. I’ve never seen her but I hear she’s a dog.” ’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Don’t. It doesn’t really matter, not now anyway, but it is true.’
They sat in silence the rest of the way to the cemetery, the children strangely quiet in the front seat.
It was probably true, Charlie reflected. People were bitchy if your wife wasn’t some kind of raving beauty. With regret he could even remember doing it himself, meeting a star and thinking – Well, the wife’s not much.
Why did people rest so much importance on physical attributes? He did so himself. That was why he dieted so strenuously, and only took out dozey starlets and models, and finally married one. The lovely Dindi, who had absolutely nothing to offer except her looks.
Perhaps that was why he still wanted Lorna, because she was an ordinary person who had known him when he was a nobody. He didn’t fancy her, there was nothing sexual left, but he still wanted her.
* * *
The burial was depressing. It seemed that relatives whom he never knew existed appeared from all over the country.
Serafina’s elder sister, Lily, fell upon him, crying and moaning. He knew for a fact that they never got along, and had not even seen each other for five years.
‘They’re all jealous,’ Serafina had once said, ‘jealous of my youth and vitality and my famous son. I was always the queen in our family.’
Serafina had seven sisters and three brothers, and they all appeared with their respective sons, daughters, sons-in-law, daughters-in-law, and grandchildren. Charlie hardly knew any of them.
The service was brief. Serafina had never been a religious woman. Then everyone walked across to the cemetery to see the coffin lowered into the ground.
Charlie gritted his teeth. He decided funerals were unnecessary. People should be allowed the dignity of dying in private and peace. He made a decision to write in his will that he was to be cremated immediately and that there was to be no funeral.
Lorna stayed by his side, both in the church and at the grave. They held on to a child each. She squeezed his arm once, and he squeezed her back. He had never felt so close to anyone in his life.
After the funeral there was the disturbing business of entertaining all the relatives back at the house.
They came in their Morris Oxfords, and Mini Minors, and battered old Fords.
They descended on the table of refreshments like locusts.
They oohed and they aahed. Three children fell into the swimming pool. One of Serafina’s brothers started telling dirty jokes. Lily asked Charlie what was going to happen to all Serafina’s things. Family gossip was rife. Serafina was forgotten.
The last Mini Minor was finally on its way at five o’clock.
‘What a joke!’ Charlie exclaimed. ‘What a bloody horrible joke. Serafina would have had a fit if she’d been here.’
‘What are you going to do now?’ Lorna asked with concern, as she found the children’s coats and prepared to go.
‘Don’t worry about me, love. Archie and I will have a bite together.’
‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like to come to dinner?’ Shyly she added, ‘I’d like you to see the baby. She’s sweet. We call her Gemma.’
‘I’m sorry. I haven’t even asked about your baby.’
‘There’s nothing to ask really. A baby is a baby, and everyone thinks theirs is the most beautiful. Actually she looks a little like Cindy.’
Charlie debated whether this was a dig at him, but decided it wasn’t. Then because he wanted to please her he said, ‘I’ve decided to fly back to Hollywood tomorrow. Maybe next time I’m here I will come over.’
‘My goodness, flying everywhere without a second thought nowadays.’
‘I suppose you get over everything in time, love.’
George cooked bacon and eggs for Charlie and Archie. They sat in the kitchen and Charlie noticed how shrivelled Archie had become since Serafina’s death.
There but for the grace of success go I, Charlie thought – a shabby little stand-up knock-down comic, who Charlie saw now had really cared for Serafina.
‘I’ll be out of here tomorrow before you leave,’ Archie said, his eyes red-rimmed and sad.
‘Where will you go?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll travel around a bit. There’s a club up in Manchester wants me back.’
‘Look, Archie,’ Charlie said impulsively, ‘you don’t have to go, you were good to my mother. I want you to have this house. She would have wanted you to have it.’
‘No, Charlie, no.’ Archie shook his head slowly. ‘You don’t have to give me a house because I looked after Serafina. Besides, I couldn’t live here without her.’
‘But I want you to have it. Sell it, do what you like with it, it’s yours.’
Archie rose from the kitchen table with dignity. ‘No. I said no and I mean no. I’ll be going to bed now, see you in the morning.’
The little man departed, leaving Charlie alone. Depressed, he too went up to bed, Serafina’s bed. He slept badly dreaming of plane crashes. He awoke in a cold sweat at 4 a.m. and was unable to get back to sleep.
In the morning Archie was gone. No forwarding address, nothin
g – he had packed his one suitcase and left quietly.
Charlie was upset. He had wanted to give him some money at least.
George helped him pack all of Serafina’s personal things, which were sent off to storage.
Agents were instructed to put the house on the market.
By 4 p.m., fortified with Mexican Gold, and protected from prying reporters by George, Charlie was on a plane back to L.A.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The morning after the engagement party, Sunday awoke to the sound of the telephone. It was Carey phoning from the airport.
‘I’m sorry I have to dash off like this, but you and Steve don’t need me around anyway and I’m expecting some important contracts.’
‘Couldn’t you stay at least a couple of days? I’ve hardly seen you.’
‘I know, but work calls. Now, when are you naming the big day? Don’t forget, I want to be the first to know.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll call you at once if we decide before we come back. By the way, if things work out tonight I expect I’ll move into his house.’
Carey chuckled. ‘With Steve Magnum at the wheel and you in the driver’s seat, I’d like to take a little bet that things will definitely work out.’
Sunday smiled. She hoped so. She needed a man so badly now. She needed Steve.
It was a beautiful morning. A clear hot balmy day. Steve had promised to telephone her when he woke up. That probably wouldn’t be until late, for the party had still been going strong when she had left at 4 a.m. with Marisa and Woody.
There had been so many people. Steve had many friends. She had found him playing craps with a bunch of men. Quietly she kissed him and whispered, ‘I want to have dinner in tomorrow night, just the two of us.’
He was drunk. He laughed and shouted, ‘Say goodnight to my princess.’ Then he fished in his pocket and pulled out a small package. ‘Open this when you’re in bed.’
She had done as he said. The package contained the figures of a man and woman, their hands joined. They were about two inches high, exquisitely made in solid gold. The female figure had two bright round diamonds for breasts and another pear-shaped diamond strategically placed. The male figure was practically all diamond.
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