Camellia

  Magnus's heart began to beat alarmingly fast. 'John died years before,' he said. 'I thought you'd know that.'

  'Oh no.' Her hands flew up to her face. 'When, how? Oh Magnus, tell me?'

  Magnus explained, and to his surprise Helena began to cry. 'I can't bear it,' she sobbed, her tears making her mascara run. 'Why didn't Bonny write and tell me about John? And that poor little love on her own. Why didn't you write and tell me?'

  'I didn't know myself until last year,' Magnus said.

  From the shock and distress on her face it was clear that Helena hadn't hardened her heart to Bonny. He passed on the information about both John's and Bonny's deaths almost as if he'd read of them in a newspaper. He couldn't possibly explain now, how he had learned of them, or tell her any of the more recent events.

  'Can you leave me?' she said shakily when he'd finished. 'It's been an awful shock. I need time to rest.'

  Magnus needed to rest himself, he felt drained. It would give him time to consider how he was going to broach the rest of his news and questions. 'Would you like dinner downstairs?' he asked. 'Or would you like to dine with me in my room.'

  'With you, please,' she replied, her eyes still full of tears. 'I don't think I'm up to meeting your other guests.'

  She was very pale and Magnus was worried about her. 'Would you like some brandy?' he asked.

  She shook her head. 'I don't drink any more, Magnus.'

  'Don't be afraid to ring down to reception if you need anything,' Magnus said as he left the room. 'I'll see you at dinner.'

  As Magnus went along to his room, he wondered about that 'I don't drink any more'. It sounded almost as if she'd had a problem with drinking. Could that be the reason she'd faded from the public eye in the last ten years?

  He couldn't imagine the Ellie he knew becoming an alcoholic, she was too strong willed, and she had left England with the world at her feet. Was it possible that fame and fortune hadn't brought her happiness after all?

  It was half past seven when Helena knocked at his door. Her nap seemed to have restored her and she looked breathtakingly beautiful in a loose-fitting long purple gown, cut low at the front to reveal voluptuous cleavage. The purple enhanced her sultry colouring and gave her a regal appearance.

  'The years have been very kind to you.' Magnus kissed both her smooth cheeks. 'Go on, disillusion me. You've had a face lift!'

  She laughed, making her eyes sparkle. 'No I haven't, you cheeky devil. I was just lucky having a dark skin to start with. We wear better than blondes.'

  Joan Downes had put his small supper table by the window and laid it beautifully with candles and flowers. Helena was thrilled by the panoramic view of the valley, and she lapsed back into the old easy manner Magnus remembered.

  She was excited to be back in England and about her role in this new film, and admitted that she was now something of a has-been.

  'When they do these coach trips round Hollywood showing the tourists the famous people's houses, I'm told they say: "Do any of you remember Helena Forester? She was a big star in the fifties. This is where she moved to when she retired." I suppose it's better to have people think you're retired than just plain washed up. But it makes me sound so old.'

  'Tell me about Broken Bridges?' Magnus asked. He was glad she'd retained her honesty.

  'Oh, it's just perfect for me to make a comeback. It's about a middle-aged lady who falls in love with a young man and turns to murder when he jilts her,' she chuckled and her eyes twinkled wickedly. 'Rupert Henderson, who I understand is something of a heart-throb here, is my co-star and it's being directed by Stanley Cubright. I don't know if you're familiar with his work but he's renowned for his stars getting Oscars. I must admit I'd love to get one, before I hang up my hat for good.'

  As she told Magnus about the script and the rest of the cast, the years seemed to slip away. She was just the old Ellie he knew. Funny, irreverent and self-effacing.

  'Don't tell me you're dieting?' Magnus said later, when he noticed how little she'd eaten.

  'No. Though I ought to be.' She smiled, that delightfully sensual lower lip curling, and patted her stomach. 'I guess it's jet lag. The chicken is wonderful and the sauce is divine but I can't manage any more.'

  Magnus poured himself a glass of water, wishing it would turn into wine miraculously. Normally he didn't hold with people who fortified themselves with drink, but this time he needed it. He was going to have to ask her about Bonny soon.

  'You didn't tell me how you found out about Bonny dying?' she said suddenly as if picking up his thoughts. 'Was the reason you invited me here something to do with it?'

  Magnus had forgotten until now that one of the main reasons he'd liked Ellie had been for her intelligence and her directness. Clearly she hadn't lost either quality.

  He fiddled with his napkin for a moment, not exactly certain which question he should answer first. 'I would have invited you here even if Bonny had been alive,' he said carefully. 'For old times' sake. But you're right, there was something I wanted to talk over with you. After giving you such a shock earlier, I'm a bit loath to go into it now.'

  'Oh Magnus,' she laughed lightly and patted his hand flirtatiously. 'You're talking to me, someone who cut her teeth on trouble and bad news. Come on, out with it.'

  'Bonny claimed that Camellia was my child,' Magnus said quickly before he lost his nerve. 'This was back in 1954.'

  Helena's eyes opened wide in shock. 'That's ridiculous,' she exclaimed. 'You aren't going to tell me you believed her?'

  'Yes, I did,' he said with an embarrassed smirk. 'In fact I gave her money for several years. It was only when Camellia came to me here –'

  'Camellia came here?' She cut him short, her voice sharp. 'So you've seen her? How is she? Where is she?'

  Magnus stood up. 'Come on over to a more comfortable chair and I'll tell you everything.'

  Once they were settled in armchairs he began with how Camellia arrived at Oaklands under an assumed name, and how and why he discovered her true identity. Although he spoke of the letters Mel had found from him, he didn't mention those from Jack and Sir Miles Hamilton.

  To his utmost surprise Helena began to cry again as he described how Mel had run away after his stroke.

  'Damn Bonny,' she exclaimed angrily. 'I thought she might have grown out of lying, but obviously she hadn't! Of course you aren't Camellia's father, Magnus.'

  'Can you be absolutely certain?'

  'Oh yes. I went with her to a doctor's in Harley Street for a pregnancy test.'

  Helena's expression was so open and full of dismay that Magnus felt he could believe her implicitly. 'When exactly was that? Do you remember?'

  'The beginning of May in 1949. She was six weeks pregnant then.'

  'You're absolutely sure?' Magnus asked, running his hand over his chin. If Helena was right about the date, he couldn't possibly be the father.

  'Yes. You see I'd only just started rehearsals for Oklahoma. Bonny came to the theatre to ask me to go with her for the test and it was confirmed that day. That's why she got married in such a hurry. How on earth could she blame you?'

  'I saw her before her wedding. It wasn't planned. I just ran into her in London,' Magnus admitted shamefacedly.

  'Oh Magnus, that was June.' Helena shook her head, but there was an understanding look in her eyes.

  'I didn't see her after that day until September 1954,' Magnus went on. 'It was at a party in Sussex and both Ruth and John were there too. She told me then that I was Camellia's father and that she was born two months premature.'

  'Magnus, what a sucker you are,' she exclaimed. 'I can't believe you fell for that! I was there with Bonny when Camellia was born. She was tiny, only five pounds but she was a full-term baby.'

  'You were there, at her birth?' Magnus hadn't expected that.

  'I was the first person to hold Camellia, I even named her.'

  Her eyes were soft now, just the way Ruth's looked when she spoke of babies. 'John was abroad
and I stayed for a month till he got back from America.'

  'What was she like as a new mother?'

  Helena didn't answer immediately. She put her head back on the cushions of the chair and closed her eyes. 'Like a little girl with a dolly,' she said softly. 'She was surprisingly maternal. She loved all the bathing, dressing and feeding. I kept expecting her to get bored with it, but she didn't. You'd have been very surprised, Magnus. She was made to be a mother.'

  The words were hardly out of her mouth when she suddenly jerked upright in her seat.

  'Did she continue to be a good mother? I mean later after John died? You see when I last saw her Camellia was only four.'

  Magnus was somewhat taken aback by the depth of passion in her voice. He would have expected the Hollywood years to have blunted the compassion and sensitivity he remembered so well in the young Ellie.

  He had no choice but to tell her what he'd learned of Camellia's childhood and adolescence. He wanted to stir up her sympathy so she would help both Nick and himself. But as he told her how things had been back in Rye and her eyes filled with tears again, he wondered if he'd gone too far.

  'Camellia's a sunny, kind, caring and gentle person,' he added, trying to put into words things which had come to him during his spell in hospital and since. 'I can't see how she'd turn out like that without a strong groundwork of love and affection. Whatever Bonny put Mel through, at the end of the day Mel loved her mother, and she still does despite everything.'

  Helena dried her eyes. Her face was white and he could almost see the tension rising within her. 'There's more, isn't there?' she said. 'Tell me everything, Magnus. Don't hold it back.'

  'Tell me first what split you two up?' Magnus asked.

  'Jealousy,' Helena spat out the word, her mouth in a tight straight line. 'She hated seeing my name on billboards, reading about me in newspapers. She said some cruel, evil things that last day we met and in the end she told me to push off and never come back.'

  'Surely she didn't mean it?'

  'Oh she did, Magnus. She was like ice.' Helena turned her face away from his. 'I phoned her so many times but she wouldn't speak to me and she returned all the presents I sent for Camellia. I expect that's why she didn't let me know about John dying too.'

  Magnus felt it was time to reveal the parts he'd kept hidden, about Jack Easton and Sir Miles Hamilton.

  Helena scarcely reacted to the mentions of Jack. But she did look agitated about Sir Miles Hamilton and turned away slightly so Magnus couldn't see her face.

  Magnus put one hand on her shoulder and drew her back to face him. 'What did she have on him, Helena? Was he a lover to both of you?'

  Her eyes were wide. This time it wasn't surprise but fear.

  'Tell me, Helena? It won't go any further than this room.'

  'You've got it all wrong,' she said, but although she tried to compose herself her voice was shaking. 'He wasn't a lover to either of us. He was far too old.'

  'Bonny had no aversion to older men, as I remember.' Magnus decided the time had come to stop pussy-footing around the issue. 'My son believes Sir Miles is Camellia's father. He also suspects Bonny didn't commit suicide, but was killed to shut her up. Sir Miles has the best motive. What do you say to that?'

  For a moment she stared at him in horror. 'No, Magnus.' She shook her head vigorously. 'You are way off beam. Sir Miles isn't Camellia's father and neither is he the kind of man to bump anyone off.'

  Magnus knew with utter certainty that Helena was concealing something. She couldn't look into his eyes. He felt he had to shake her up.

  'I understand your loyalty to Sir Miles when he's helped your career so much. But Camellia is out there somewhere, bewildered and alone, and I know you've got at least some of the answers that might help her. What made you an alcoholic, Helena? Was it the burden of too many secrets?'

  She was off the settee so fast and backing away towards the door that Magnus hardly had time to catch his breath.

  'How dare you,' she asked, eyes flashing with anger. 'I am not an alcoholic and I came here as your guest, Magnus, not to be cross-examined. Despite the fact you were a married man when you had your affair with Bonny, I always thought of you as truly honourable. I wanted to see you again because I admired you. Now I find you only invited me to pry and poke around, just like everyone else.'

  She gathered up the skirt of her long dress and opened the door. 'I'll be leaving in the morning,' she flung back at him. 'I've told you all you need to know. Your son is free to marry Camellia. She is not your child.'

  She left the door wide open and raced along the landing towards the Blue Room. Magnus stood at the door for a moment, a feeling of nausea rising inside him.

  He went back into his room and poured himself a stiff drink. 'Well, you really cocked that up!' he said to himself. 'You bumbling fool!'

  It was after three in the morning when Magnus finally got weary of trying to sleep. His head was buzzing with conflicting emotions. Delight that he could tell Nick he wasn't Mel's father, shame that he'd laid into Helena so brutally, and frustration that the whole truth was so close, yet unreachable. He put on a plaid dressing gown over his pyjamas and went into his sitting room.

  Julie had come to collect the dinner things about ten thirty, and he'd nearly bitten the poor girl's head off for asking how the evening had gone. What would the staff think when Helena left suddenly in the morning?

  What could he do now? It was unlikely Helena would have second thoughts. She'd always been determined about everything. And he'd insulted her by suggesting she was an alcoholic.

  Dejectedly Magnus opened his door. He might as well go down to the kitchen and make himself some hot milk. That was what Ruth had always prescribed for anxiety.

  As he passed the Blue Room he heard a faint sound. He stopped, pressing his ear to the door. For a moment he thought he was hearing the ghost of Ruth, for she had cried that way when she was in the final painful stages of her life. But it was no ghost, it was a flesh and blood woman sobbing her heart out. He gingerly tried the door, expecting to find it locked, but to his surprise it turned in his hand. Opening it just a crack, he looked in.

  The way the bedside light in the adjoining bedroom cast its weak golden beam onto the sitting room carpet was all so familiar. How many times had he crept in as he was doing now. Ruth would brush the tears away when she saw him and try to smile, making out she had no pain.

  Helena's face was turned away as he silently walked into the room. Black wavy hair was spread out on the pillow, her shoulders and arms golden-brown against the white sheets, shuddering as she sobbed. She wore a cream lace nightdress with narrow shoulder straps, the matching negligee tossed onto the floor.

  'I'm so sorry, Helena,' he whispered, going over to the bed and sitting down beside her. 'I didn't mean to hurt you. To be honest I was like a big schoolboy at the thought of you coming here. The prying was only because I wanted to get you to help me find Camellia.'

  She didn't reply, but he didn't sense any further anger, only sorrow.

  Lying down beside her and taking her into his arms was the only way he knew of helping, as it had been with Ruth.

  She was silent for some time, but the fact she didn't recoil suggested she needed him.

  'Oh, Magnus, I want to make things right,' she whispered eventually against his chest. 'But you don't know how hard it is.'

  'Not now,' he whispered back. 'I'm just a friend now, not an inquisitor. Whatever it is that's troubling you can wait. Go to sleep now.'

  He didn't fall asleep until a long time after she did. It was so long since he'd held a woman in his arms he could only savour the sweetness of it. The softness of her breasts against his chest, her hair on his face and the delicate flowery scent of her. He thought perhaps he'd finally learned all the aspects of love now. The innocent longing for his sweetheart, the warmth of marriage. Passion for a mistress and the tender sweetness of fatherhood. In those last months with Ruth there had been more, a distillation o
f every kind of emotion mixed into a bewildering potpourri. Love, anger, tenderness and bitterness, rage and quiet calm. Gentle Ruth had known and seen everything. She faced death with the same courageous spirit that had carried her through knowing he loved another woman. At the end she found the words to absolve him from guilt.

  'Don't grieve for me,' Ruth had said. She had become so thin she looked like a child in the big bed. 'We had so much happiness together, that's all I remember. If I could turn back the clock and be eighteen again, I'd still pick you. Maybe I'd try harder to understand you needed a bigger world than me and be at your side as you conquered it, but I wouldn't change one thing about you.'

  The sun woke Magnus, as it played around the edge of the curtains. Helena was sleeping peacefully now, lying on her stomach, her face buried in one curved arm. Silently Magnus inched his way to the edge of the bed, taking care not to wake her.

  It wouldn't do to be here when she woke. Silent comfort in the night was one thing, by daylight it could be mistaken for something else. Whatever secrets Helena knew, she must make the decision to deal with them herself. He would have to learn patience.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Magnus was on his knees weeding a rose bed. He'd come out in the garden at eight to do some watering while it was still cool. Now it was nearly eleven and very hot, but he was still pottering. He felt he ought to be happier: Jayne had informed him earlier that they were booked solidly through till October, and Nick had sent him a preview of the publicity planned for his film Delinquents. But his thoughts were all centred on the events of last night, wondering if Helena had forgiven him and whether she'd open up more before leaving Oak-lands.

  'There's nothing quite as lovely as an English garden, is there?'

  Magnus was startled to hear her husky voice so close, especially as she'd been on his mind. He jerked his head around. She was wearing a lilac sleeveless dress, her hair swept back into a chignon and her sly grin suggested she'd crept up behind him deliberately.