Stratford Jewel

by Oliver, Marina

  Rosa reached the main entrance. Jack wasn't there, but when she asked a uniformed commissionaire he nodded and pointed to the elevators. 'Wanted the top floor,' he offered. Rosa got into another elevator and waited impatiently for it to crawl upwards. At the top floor she emerged to find Jack arguing with a man just inside a doorway.

  'You can't stop me,' Jack was saying excitedly. He waved his book, which was unwrapped, and pointed to one of the pages. 'Look, see that eagle? That's me. I'm going to get out of this damned city, I'm tired of the noise and the people and the cramped buildings. I want space, and I'm going to find it.'

  'Jack, what on earth are you doing?' Rosa demanded and went to seize his arm. 'Come home, for heaven's sake, and stop making this fuss.'

  He shook off her hand. 'I'm going home, Rosa. Don't you see, I don't have to wait for your precious Max and his uncle to give me their gracious permission. I can get there whenever I like.' He thrust the book at her and pointed to a painting of an eagle soaring across an empty sky. 'I can fly there.'

  She grabbed at him again, but he laughed, threw her off and pushed so that she fell against the door. Then, throwing a punch at the man who was in his way, he ran for the window, clambered onto a desk nearby, and the last thing Rosa saw was Jack diving head first through the glass.

  ***

  Chapter 14

  It was three days before Max could be located and brought back from Chicago, though when he did come he came by air. Meanwhile his uncle, as Jack's doctor, hurried from Washington. By then Rosa, unnaturally calm after her first frenzied collapse, refused all further sedation.

  'I need to understand,' she told Dr Higham. 'Please stay with me.'

  'Of course. You need someone with you, my dear. Where's Max?'

  'They haven't found him yet, he's visiting somewhere outside Chicago, they say. There's Jack's – the spare room available.'

  'My dear, I can't tell you how sorry I am. There was no sign of your brother's delusions returning, or we would not have permitted him such freedom. I really hoped it was a single abberation.'

  'Delusions? What do you mean? Jack didn't have delusions, he used to behave oddly, that's all.'

  'I understand he thought he was a bird.'

  Rosa blinked hard. 'Yes. He'd bought a book about American birds, and said he was flying to Wyoming.' Her voice wavered. 'You say he's had this delusion before?'

  'Not the same as this one. The one on the boat.'

  'What's this about on the boat?'

  'It seems as though Max didn't tell you. He presumably didn't want to worry you.'

  'Didn't tell me what? Doctor Higham, you can't stop now. What happened on the boat that I don't know about?'

  He sighed. 'One night, Max told me, he woke to see Jack leaving their cabin. He followed and prevented Jack from climbing over the side.'

  'The side of the boat? For heaven's sake, why?'

  'He thought he was a whale. It was just after some whales had been seen, I understand.'

  'I remember them. But Max never told me. Oh, how dare he keep something like that from me. I'm Jack's sister, I had a right to know! If I'd known, I'd have been more on my guard. Please excuse me, I have to be alone.'

  Rosa almost ran into her bedroom. She no longer wept, she thought she had no tears left, but she was consumed with a volcanic rage. Max hadn't trusted her. That hurt unbearably, but even worse was the thought that if she'd known, she'd have been more alert, able to prevent Jack's death.

  When she emerged an hour later, calm once more, there was an elegant woman sitting by the window overlooking the Park. Tall and slender, wearing expensive, fashionable clothes, she wore several rings with enormous stones, and was languidly smoking a cigarette in a long holder.

  'My dear child, there you are,' she cooed. Rosa raised her eyebrows slightly. The woman might be thirty, certainly no older. 'The doctor thought you might sleep for hours, and he had arrangements to make, for the funeral, you know, so I said I'd stay until he could come back. I'd called to express my condolences, as I knew Max was away, and thought I might be able to help.'

  'Thank you. I'm afraid I don't know your name, but I think we met somewhere, wasn't it at Christmas?'

  'I'm Gloria de Vries. My husband is one of Max's partners. We met at that party, but Max was very naughty, he dragged you away as soon as we'd been introduced. And I'd so been looking forward to talking to you.'

  'I remember now. It was kind of you to call, Mrs de Vries, and I'm grateful, but I'm quite safe to be left alone. If you need to go, please don't feel you have to keep me company.'

  'Is this the polite dismissal? Has Max been telling tales?'

  Rosa flushed. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way. I just thought that if you had appointments you might be in a hurry.'

  'Not at all.' She removed the cigarette, produced a slim gold case, extracted another and lit it. 'Nothing I can't miss with a totally clear conscience. I'm very fond of Max, I always have been, you know.' She gave a reminiscent smile. 'We used to be so close, such good friends, and I want to support him when there's trouble. You too, of course. My husband says they've sent for Max. Do you know when he'll be here?'

  'It can't be more than a day or so, Chicago isn't all that far away.'

  'Well, if you don't need me, I won't impose. I can see you're a very self-possessed young lady. The typical cool English Rose, without passion. Will you be returning to England now?'

  'Why should I?' Rosa, though still overwhelmed by misery, had detected signs of hostility in Mrs de Vries's manner. She wondered fleetingly why the woman should appear to dislike her, but it was so unimportant she dismissed it.

  'Just – forgive me if I'm wrong, but I understood you and Max, well, that you married mainly to enable your brother to have treatment from his uncle. And Max was very upset when that child, what was her name, threw him over. So humiliating for such a ladies' man as Max! I thought perhaps, now – '

  She paused and Rosa looked at her with narrowed eyes. 'I'll tell Max you came,' she said coldly.

  Mrs de Vries smiled, rose to her feet and elegantly dropped her half-smoked cigarette in a glass ashtray where it continued smouldering.

  When Rosa had seen her to the door she returned, took the cigarette in suddenly tense fingers, and viciously ground it out, wishing it was the elegant Gloria instead of the ashtray which was beneath her fist.

  *

  'I was promised a good part,' Celia complained. 'I don't call the part of a waitress, just two scenes, a good part.'

  'Honey, you're lucky,' her companion, a fellow would-be star, replied. 'D'you know how many gals out there'd give their all for even that? Most of us have to hang around for months, even years, before setting a foot in a studio. You had it easy, bein' picked off the streets.'

  'I had the leading role in a London West End theatre,' Celia snapped.

  'London? Where's that? It don't cut no ice here, baby.'

  'How do people get parts, then?

  'Come on, you can't be that naive. How did you get the part in your precious London production?'

  'Talent!' Celia claimed, and then recalled the true facts. 'And a little bit of help,' she admitted.

  'See?'

  Celia's ill temper suddenly left her. She giggled. 'Well, more than a bit. He was the fattest man I've ever known, and far too energetic with it. I sometimes thought he'd squash me flat.'

  Her new friend eyed her up and down. 'He didn't harm your main assets, anyway. But next time, honey, insist you're on top.'

  'On top? Oh, yes, I see.' Celia blushed. She'd only been in Hollywood for a few days, and she wasn't used to the frank discussions some of her fellow starlets indulged in.

  'I saw Hank Rossi eyeing you this morning.'

  'Hank Rossi? That skinny Italian who's always yelling at people?' Celia shuddered. 'I don't fancy him, though he wouldn't be as heavy as Willy.'

  'It isn't who you fancy that matters, it's who fancies you. Rossi's pure power. In other ways than in bed. If
you can interest him, you'll be made.' She chuckled. 'If you can stand the pace. Rumour has it he's worn out quite a few hopefuls in the past two years, but your name'll be above the title within months if he says so.'

  'Where is he?'

  'Play it cool, honey. There's hundreds of girls throwing themselves at him, he can pick and choose. But he likes to pretend he's the great hunter.'

  'Then how do I meet him?'

  'Party tonight, up on the hill. He'll be there and I can wangle you an invitation. After that it's up to you. Just one tip, don't throw off your clothes. He prefers to take them off himself, and he's seen so much naked flesh it doesn't turn him on these days.'

  'Thanks. But why are you being so helpful?'

  'I've been lucky, my feller's just as powerful, but Hank's current little bird did me in the eye last year, stole a part from right under my nose, so I owe her one.'

  'It's like a jungle,' Celia said, laughing uncertainly.

  'Yep. If you can't manage the hand to claw fightin', vamoose.'

  Celia shook her head. 'I'm here, I mean to stay here, and I'll claw my way to the top, whatever it takes!'

  *

  Rosa was icy when Max returned to New York. He let himself into the apartment and found her sitting staring out of the window. She did not turn to look at him until he crossed the room and took her into his arms.

  'My God, Rosa, you're so cold,' he exclaimed. 'Let me put some more coal on the fire.'

  He moved to do so, and discovered that the fire was built as high as was safe, and glowing hotly.

  'Why didn't you tell me?' she asked, her voice expressionless.

  'Tell you? Tell you what? Rosa, my darling, come and let me warm you up.'

  When she didn't move he scooped her into his arms and carried her over to the settee, cradling her to him. She made no gesture either of acceptance or resistance and he looked at her with concern. In three days she had lost weight, and her eyes were deeply shadowed.

  'What didn't I tell you?' he repeated.

  Then she looked at him. 'About Jack.'

  'Jack?'

  'That he thought he was a whale, on the boat.'

  'I – I didn't want you to worry,' Max said with a sigh. 'My uncle told me. I was wrong, and I'm sorry.'

  'Wrong? Sorry?' Rosa struggled to escape from his embrace and stood up. 'It was criminal! I hadn't any idea he had such delusions, or I might have suspected why he was so enchanted with those damned birds! I could have saved him, prevented him – ' Her voice broke and she turned away.

  'I begged you not to try to look after him on your own. It would have been better to have postponed his visit until we could both have been here,' Max defended himself.

  'It would have been better if I'd been told the truth about my own brother, instead of being lied to, treated as if I were a child.'

  'Rosa, what can I say? Come here, darling, you're so cold.'

  She shook her head. 'I don't think I'll ever feel warm again. You can't help me, Max.'

  She turned and went into the bedroom. When he followed she was calm but insistent. She wanted to be alone. 'And as your uncle has gone back to Washington for a couple of days, will you please use the spare room?'

  Rosa moved about as in a dream. Only after Jack's remains had been laid to rest did she allow more tears to fall.

  'Take her home, make her go to bed, and try to persuade her to take a sleeping pill,' Dr Higham advised. 'I wish I could stay, but there are urgent cases at the hospital, I must go back. Try and send her to stay with your mother for a few weeks. If she's away from New York, not seeing skyscrapers every day, she'll have a better chance to recover.'

  Rosa refused to go to bed, instead she began to sort Jack's few possessions. Apart from a change of underclothing and a clean shirt, he had little in the apartment. She swiftly parcelled them, then went to put on a hat and coat.

  'Where are you going? It will be dark soon.'

  'What does that matter? I'm going to put them in a trash can.'

  Max nodded. What else could she do? Discreetly he followed her, keeping well back as she walked down some of the paths in the Park. After an hour she had circled round and was near the apartment, and her pace slowed. Her shoulders seemed to slump, but she flung up her head and marched back in. Max slipped in after her while she was taking off her coat and went to make a pot of coffee.

  'Drink this, it will warm you,' he said. She was sitting looking out over the Park again.

  'Why didn't you tell me?' she asked.

  'I thought it would worry you, and that Jack was better. He'd soon be somewhere safe so you need never know. His illness so distressed you.'

  'And his death didn't?'

  'Rosa, I doubt if either of us could have prevented that. He'd seemed so much better, and my uncle is experienced at judging what is safe for his patients.'

  'Not experienced enough, it seems. And I'm not a child, Max. I had a right to know.'

  'You're blaming my uncle too?'

  She stood up suddenly and began to pace the room. 'I blame you both only for not telling me. Surely you can understand that if I'd known I'd have been more on my guard?'

  'Darling, it could have happened anywhere. Jack was so much better – '

  'Apparently! But he wasn't, was he?'

  'I was about to say he was allowed to travel alone, he might have thrown himself from the train, or from the window of his room at the hospital. It's because you were with him, and saw it, that you're taking it so badly.'

  'You expect me to accept it and shrug it off as just one of those things? No, Max.'

  'Rosa, it's done. It can't be changed, and – '

  'And you'd like to forget it. No, Max. I'm grateful to you for trying to help him, for bringing us here, but I wonder if it might not have been better to stay in England.'

  'You'd have preferred him to face prison for arson?'

  'I've no doubt Adam's anger would have cooled. He probably wouldn't have prosecuted Jack, but you encouraged us to panic.'

  'So that's my fault too, is it?' Max demanded, rising from his chair and facing Rosa. 'You'd like Jack to be in prison?'

  'And alive,' she retorted. 'I don't know why you wanted to help us,' she said with a sudden droop.

  'I loved you.'

  She flinched. 'Did you? Weren't you just resentful that Jenny, a mere child, had rejected you? You had to show her, and I was convenient and willing. But you regret it now, don't you? Since Jenny changed her mind again.'

  'She hasn't changed her mind. What makes you think that?'

  'I heard you, comforting her, at Thanksgiving. She said she wished she'd married you.'

  'You were eavesdropping? I didn't think you were capable of that, Rosa, I thought you were more straightforward.'

  'I didn't expect to find my husband canoodling with a previous fiancée in a barn.'

  'I was not. I've told you, she was upset, she'd had a row with her boy. She didn't mean it.'

  'But have you changed your mind, Max? Do you regret marrying me? It was an impulse, wasn't it? Or do you wish you could spend your time with the delectable Gloria?'

  Max flushed. 'What has Gloria to do with it? What do you know about her?'

  'You had an affair, didn't you? She made sure I understood that.'

  'That was over long before I met you.'

  Rosa's pent-up rage suddenly overflowed. 'Was it? A pity, since she's clearly willing to resume it. And wasn't it her husband who went out to Chicago to take your place when you had to come back? You should be grateful to me, Max, for providing you with such an opportunity. Why don't you go and make all your excuses to her?'

  Max glared at her impotently. 'Since it's impossible to talk to you in your present mood, I think I just might!' he snapped, and grabbed his hat and walked out of the apartment.

  *

  Rosa heard the door slam and stood looking bleakly at it. That was it. Max had gone. It was the end of her dream.

  For a few hours she regretted her out
burst and waited anxiously for Max to return. He didn't come. Her emotions veered from terror that he'd had an accident to fury that he should desert her. He could have telephoned to tell her he was all right. Even if he didn't love her now he could expect her to worry. It was morning before the telephone rang.

  Rosa snatched up the receiver. 'Hello? Max? Is that you?'

  There was a throaty chuckle, cut off abruptly. 'Mrs Higham?' a female voice enquired, and Rosa imagined there was both condescension and mockery in those two short words.

  She frowned. 'Mrs de Vries? Is it you?'

  There was another suppressed chuckle. 'Why, Mrs Higham, how could you imagine your loving husband would be with his old friend?' This time there was no doubt of the mockery, and Rosa was equally certain of the caller's identity. 'I'm just a humble messenger. He asked me to let you know he's utterly overwhelmed with work, and won't be able to enjoy domestic comforts for a while.'

  Rosa slammed the receiver back on the stand. How dare Max get his mistress to make such a despicable call? Rosa wanted to believe he wouldn't hurt her like that, but she couldn't. He must have asked Gloria to call her. He must have been with her, spent the night with her. He clearly didn't love his wife now, so there was no point in staying in America. Jack was dead, and so was Max's fleeting love.

  She could go to Hollywood, but she had no illusions about Celia's attitude. Instead of the sympathy Rosa craved Celia would shrug and tell her to find someone else. She didn't want anyone else. She still loved Max, but she wouldn't stay here, patiently waiting for him to come home from his various adventures.

  Then she hesitated. Did she love him? Or had she been attracted by his foreign sophistication, so different from the more homely merits of men like Adam? She had been in a panic when they'd fled, terrified of the effect on Jack if he were sent back to prison. She'd been grateful to Max, and enslaved by his mastery over her body. She shivered. Could she bear to lose that exquisite pleasure? She shook her head angrily. It would hardly be pleasure now she'd ceased to believe he loved her. She was confused. Men, she'd heard, enjoyed sex without having to love their partners. If Max could find solace with Gloria, the physical joy they'd found together was no more than satisfying a physical craving. Perhaps it was the same for women. Celia hadn't loved her protector, from what she'd revealed during the time they'd spent together. It had shocked Rosa, but maybe Celia was right.