by Nancy Barone
It was like being a Peeping Tom, getting to know him without him knowing me. From the comfort of my chair, I could peruse and spy on every (well, almost) inch of him without getting caught. I could see the hues of his skin change with fury when he punched his enemy’s lights out, or see his eyes turn from blue to green in the sunshine, or hooded with passion when Julie Shipp slowly unbuttoned his shirt in that famous sex scene in that time-traveller, Yesterday Waits For No One.
Didn’t he feel awkward, knowing that his face and body had no secrets to people all over the world? That every woman knew he had a scar on his back and other outrageously intimate things like, say, the shade of his nipples? And didn’t it bother him that he had no private life? That everyone – bar me – knew all about his girlfriends, past, present and imaginary?
I would feel vulnerable, knowing people on the net were tracking down my every movement, holding polls for which of my dates had the best chance of becoming that special person in my life. These things were personal, no matter what you did for a living.
So I moved on to more harmless things, like his filmography. There were his spy movies, such as Strangers, and his psychological thriller, The Man From Nowhere.
His romcoms included Finally You, Meet Me In Boise and A Year Without You.
And his portrayal of Heathcliff? I’d never seen anything so gut-wrenching. The bugger was indeed talented.
The information about him went on and on, and in the space of a few hours, I knew as much as anybody else about Luke O’Hara.
He was the youngest of four and his aunt had been the one to sign him up to drama school as a birthday gift.
He’d dated just about all of his co-stars, the most famous models of the moment and even royalty, both genuine and self-assumed. But the more famous he became, the more he seemed disillusioned. Who was he, really? I checked everything – Wikipedia, IMDb, YouTube – anything I could find, to better understand whom I was dealing with.
Little did I know back then that it would take more than the internet.
12
Glass Houses
You know when you’re living a moment you wish could last forever, and you stop for just a sec to wonder if it’s even real and then tell yourself not to worry about that right now, and to just enjoy it? Well, nothing like that had ever happened to me ever before, so it caught me by surprise.
Because when in my entire life had I ever thought I would be cruising along the California highways in a black convertible, the wind in my hair, sitting beside a guy who had (really) leapt off the pages of GQ? I mean, really, could the scene be more clichéd?
And yet, there I was, Luke at the wheel, my kids in the back, driving to his mansion to meet his daughter. Ben was even more ecstatic than myself, albeit for different reasons, his hands clutching the back of my seat, marvelling at the dashboard.
‘Wowee! This is the BMW 4-Series M4 Trim! It’s the most powerful and most expensive in the line-up!’
‘That’s right, Ben!’ Luke grinned as he shifted into a lower gear in preparation for the steep hills awaiting us. My stomach lurched as I looked beyond Luke to the edge of the road. Apart from the fact that we were on the wrong side of the road, we were about two feet away from the gaping abyss.
‘Don’t look down, Nina,’ he said, but I could barely hear him with the wind whipping about our heads.
Not that I had intended to, but the sea was such a beautiful cobalt blue, and the coast so large I couldn’t help it. In a way, the expanse reminded me of home. Mullion Cove, Soapy Cove, Predannack Wollas. Soon I’d be back home to see it all again. If we didn’t pitch straight into the ocean.
‘I bet Cornwall’s even better!’ Luke called over the breeze.
Ah, no contest there indeed. But how to be polite? ‘It’s different!’ I called back, tossing a look at Chloe who was busy taking selfies. She really worried me. When I was her age, I still played with dolls. Granted, they spent their time kissing and gossiping about Ken and Big Jim, but still. I had a story to tell, while my daughter was always completely engrossed in herself.
Was it my parenting that needed addressing, or were all kids like that? Certainly all of Chloe’s friends in school were, but then again, all you had to do was look at their Northwood mums like Vanessa and Aimée, with their pearls and yoga classes and macrobiotic/bio/non-fat foods. It made me sick just listening to how Hugo, Heath and Horatio had made the top of the team, and how Persephone, Perpetua and Portia were at the head of their Literature classes, whilst they could barely spell their names.
‘Here we are! Jessica can’t wait to meet you guys!’ he called as we got to the top of a steep drive where a two-storeyed glass and white-rendered monolith came into view, dominating the landscape and sparkling as it caught the rays of the morning sun. It had stopped raining only last night, and the air smelled cleaner and fresher, just like hope and new beginnings.
I tried not to look too impressed as Luke led us in via the foyer from where through enormous glass walls, I feasted my eyes on the ocean meeting the strip of multi-million-dollar mansions in Santa Monica and caught a glimpse of a huge infinity pool that looked like it spilled down into the ocean.
Evidently Luke’s talent as an actor had paid off. From whichever way I looked at it – from his talent to his fame to his house – his whole life was perfect. Or almost, because it was a shame that his daughter couldn’t see it.
‘Oh my God, will you look at the pool?’ Chloe squealed, then checked herself, remembering she considered herself the posh one. Whatever had given her that idea, I would never know.
‘It’s so cool, Luke!’ Ben agreed, making an impressed face, like an adult tasting a good wine he approved of.
I guessed it was my turn. ‘It’s absolutely breathtaking,’ I added in earnest. What else can you say about paradise?
He stuffed his hands in his pockets. ‘Thanks, but I’m selling it. This place is not fit for Jessica. I want something more cosy that she can feel her way around. Plus we’re almost never home. Seems a shame for her not to be able to enjoy the view.’
‘Luke – there you are. Jessica’s been waiting for you,’ said a voice that seemed to drift down from the sky.
I looked up to see an elderly woman descending the glass stairs, and a pretty dark-haired teenager behind her.
Luke’s face lit up. ‘Where’s my girl?’ he said, moving up the stairs and scooping her into his embrace. ‘Jessica, I want you to meet Nina Conte and her children, Chloe and Ben.’
‘Hello, Jessica,’ I said, and she extended her hand for me to take. She had a beautiful smile, quite like her father’s, only her colouring was different. She must have taken after her mother.
‘Hey,’ Chloe said casually, eyeing her surreptitiously. ‘I’m Chloe. This is Ben.’
‘Hi, guys!’ she said. ‘Wanna see my room? You can see all the way out to Catalina from there on a great day like today! Come on!’
As Jessica navigated her way up the banister, they eagerly followed. She was right. Today was a good day.
‘Nina, this is Martha,’ Luke said. Everything about her was white, just like the house, from her hair to her linen trousers. ‘She’s Jessica’s tutor, nanny, cook. You name it, she’s an ace.’
The woman grinned and rolled her eyes. ‘The man is pure adulation. Nice to meet you, Nina. Are you Italian?’
‘Yes,’ I answered. ‘Sicilian English.’
‘Then maybe you’d like to give me a few tips on some of your specialties?’
‘I’d love to,’ I agreed. Anyone who loved to cook was a friend of mine.
After a tour of the house and gardens, which left me completely gobsmacked, we sat down to lunch, by which time I was ravenous. Martha had made an exquisite Caesar salad, a carbonara pasta dish and a large apple pie from scratch, and I wondered how long before Jack’s apples would be ready to harvest.
It was all delicious, of course. Martha was very graceful and Luke was entertaining and the kids were on their best behav
iour, including Chloe. Until… she wasn’t.
‘What’s it like to be blind?’ she asked Jessica out of the blue while she chomped on her dessert.
I swallowed. ‘Chloe…’
Jessica turned my way and smiled. ‘It’s all right, Mrs Conte. I don’t actually get much of a chance to talk about it. Everyone seems to think I can’t accept it. But I do. I was born this way, and don’t know any better. That view, for instance. Imagine not seeing it. Can you?’
‘No…’
‘Sure you can. Close your eyes – you, too, Ben – and tell me what you can detect through the open doors.’
Luke’s eyes swung to mine, and he smiled, a proud fatherly smile, and my heart went out to him. He was so lucky to have such a lovely daughter.
‘The waves,’ Chloe said.
‘The ebb and flow,’ Ben said.
‘Ben, stop showing off,’ Chloe said. ‘The wind… not strong, but steady. A little like the Cornish winds.’
I didn’t know my daughter had even acknowledged the Cornish winds. Huh.
‘And… seagulls?’ she added.
‘Yes, that’s right, Chloe. Now open your eyes.’
They did.
‘Can you see the wind and the seagulls from where you’re sitting?’
‘No,’ Ben answered. ‘But I noticed them as soon as I closed my eyes!’
‘That’s right, Ben. I use my other senses. I can tell when my dad is sad or tired or upset, by just listening to his breathing, and the tone of his voice.’
‘You never told me that,’ he said, slightly unnerved. ‘I thought I fooled you. I’m an actor, after all.’
Jessica giggled. ‘Not a very good one, Dad!’
Oh, how I wished my children could have a similar relationship with their own father. But then again, Jessica must be longing to have a mother.
As Luke promised, after lunch, we went for a frolic on the beach, which was so different from our Cornish beaches. With Ben and Chloe’s help, Jessica built a sandcastle three foot high, complete with a moat and seaweed for the drawbridge chains.
‘It looks sturdy enough,’ I admired, and Jessica’s head swung in my direction. ‘Yes, and not a sliding glass door in sight. All cosy and safe.’
I looked at Luke, and his lips pursed in thought.
‘That’s why I’m selling it, you see,’ he explained as the two of us took a short stroll down the beach, the kids further ahead. ‘What’s the point of having a huge house full of vistas, staircases and glass that could harm her if she took a wrong turn, and most of all a house that she can’t enjoy? I want something more tactile for her, something smaller, cosier, warmer.’
I was silent, but nodded.
He stopped. ‘You don’t like it either, do you?’
I looked up and halted just before him. It was already surreal, being here on the private beach of one of the most famous actors on the planet. But having him ask me for my opinion was way off the charts. And I was supposed to tell him the truth?
‘It is magnificent, with all the views and everything. Gorgeous, in fact. But I have to agree with Jessica who appreciates something much more, as you said, tactile. Walls she can run her hands along without worrying about smudging massive glass expansions. Flagstone floors that accompany you throughout your house and dip in the most worn spots. Ancient hearths that tell you the secrets of many a dweller before you while you surrender to their warmth, surrounded by friends and family…’
Luke smiled. ‘We definitely know who the writer here is,’ he said. ‘You sounded like you were talking about a place that really exists…’
‘It does. It’s my home.’
13
About A Boy
The next day was the day of Ben’s appointment with a specialist. The true highlight of our trip. We were escorted into a dimly but elegantly lit office that looked more like a lounge, and were served hot and cold drinks while Dr Ellenberg clearly stated Ben’s situation after examining him thoroughly.
‘I’m sorry, Doctor, if I ask again, but I need to be sure. Are you saying that with this operation, which is not as invasive as we thought, my son will be able to walk without a brace?’
‘Ms Conte,’ he said, removing his glasses, and for a moment I dreaded I’d misunderstood the contents of the entire twenty-minute consultation. ‘Your son’s ligaments are shorter than they should be, and that’s what’s causing him to limp. His bones are perfectly well proportioned. With an operation, he’ll be running around like any other boy in six months’ time. Of that I can assure you.’
I don’t know what happened to me, but all of a sudden it was as if the puppet master keeping me constantly upright just pulled the wrong string and I collapsed. My shoulders shuddered as I silently wept, tears running down my cheeks and into my mouth, salty and hot, all the while cursing myself for being unable to keep it together.
He leaned forward and patted my hand. ‘Ms Conte, you have every reason to cry these tears of joy. Your son will be just like everyone else.’
Oh, if he only knew. Ben was never going to be like anyone else to me. He was far stronger, far more mature, far more loving than anyone I’d ever known and I was so proud of how he’d put up with all the pain all these years, my brave, brave little boy!
‘Just come back when you’re ready and we’ll start the paperwork and have him done within the week,’ he concluded, shuffling his papers into a neat pile.
Meaning, Come back when you have the money.
And soon I would, just as soon as the studio paid my advance on the script. Because Alice’s ten grand had been spent on the kids’ education. As cautious as I was by nature, I couldn’t help but taste the flavour of accomplishment.
It had been years since my last lucrative achievement that was beneficial to my children, and finally I had succeeded. The tiny margin of things going wrong existed, I knew, but for once I wanted to be completely optimistic and oblivious to any chance of it not going well.
My time had come. My book was going to become a movie, and with that giving me confidence, I knew I would manage to find a fourth book in me. All I’d needed was someone to believe in me again, and I now had Luke O’Hara to thank.
*
Before our departure back to England, Luke and Jessica offered to take us to Rodeo Drive.
‘Er, we’d better give that one a miss,’ I said. With T-shirts at four hundred dollars a pop, Chloe was better off eating ice cream on the pier like the rest of us mortals.
Only they pranced around in tiny outfits, all smiley, like guests at a plastic Barbie and Ken party. I’d much rather have been back at home talking to Alf or to Bev, Carol and Deirdre – the Ice Cream Ladies – or Jack and Em, real people. My people.
As we were strolling down the Santa Monica Pier, my mobile rang. It was, what a coincidence, Jack.
‘Hey, how’s it going?’ came his breezy voice. He sounded happy.
‘Jack! Absolutely fantastic! We’ll be home the day after tomorrow.’
‘That’s great, Nina! Did you play hardball?’
I laughed. ‘Yeah, pretty much, although Alice did most of the playing. Luke O’Hara wants me to co-write the script.’
‘Luke O’Hara, the actor?’
‘Yup!’
‘That’s excellent news, Nina. You so deserve this.’
‘I know, but I’m not sure I can—’
‘Nina,’ came his deep voice from across the ocean, making me even more homesick. And it had only been a few days. ‘You’ve got this.’
I smiled. Good old supportive Jack. ‘Thank you. So I’ll fill you in when we get back. How are Minnie and Callie? Thanks for taking care of them, by the way.’
‘They miss you terribly.’
Awh. So did we. I hadn’t realised how much I would miss them, like my own children. I couldn’t wait to wrap my arms around their warm furry bodies and see them yapping for joy.
‘How’s everyone? How’s Emma?’
‘We had dinner last night at my pla
ce.’
‘Did you miss us at all?’
Silence. ‘Of course we missed you, Nina. We miss all of you. But we’ll have a nice dinner when you get back, okay? Emma and Chanel will be there and it’ll be like you never left.’
‘I’ll bring something over, too.’
‘Can’t wait,’ he mumbled, or I thought that was what he said.
‘Jack? You still there?’
‘I’m here,’ he reassured me.
‘’Kay then.’
‘Give the kids my love. And why the hell not, Alice too. She deserves it.’
I grinned. ‘She’ll be gushing, then. Bye.’
‘See you soon.’
He and Emma had had dinner without me – that was a first. I hung up with the strange sensation that I had missed out on something by being here.
*
After another day of sightseeing and buying souvenirs for practically everyone in the village, there was nothing left to do but pack up and go home. And wait for the lawyers to draw up a contract.
The morning we were to fly out, Luke and Jessica came to the hotel lobby to say goodbye with snack bags. Proper sweet, old-school kindness. Mine contained Hershey kisses, walnut cookies, Wrigley’s chewing gum and also a small bottle of San Pellegrino water.
‘I noticed how you were savouring it the other day,’ he said with a shrug. Maybe there was hope for this American yet.
‘Thank you.’
‘So… see you when we get to Cornwall,’ he said, shaking my hand. ‘In a few weeks we’ll be in England and getting to work.’
‘See you back in ol’ Kernow,’ I chimed back, mentally raising my eyebrows. That was it? A handshake, after we’d had lunch twice, once in his own home, and our daughters had practically become blood sisters? Must be my Italian temperament. Once we broke bread with someone, we were buddies for life. I guess Hollywood did the opposite to people.
As we were going back up to our room, he called me. ‘Hey, Nina!’
I looked back. He grinned and waved. ‘It’s gonna be great, you’ll see…’
