Authors: Thérèse
A little while later, Robert held open the doors of the Town Car and the two of them climbed into the cream leather interior.
“Miss Butler, you seem to have attracted quite a crowd out there today,” he told her.
“Sorry, Robert?” Annabelle was too preoccupied to catch his remark.
“There are a lot of photographers out there today, Miss Butler,” Robert said as he began smoothly easing down the driveway.
“Really?” Annabelle was genuinely alarmed. Had word already gotten out she was sick? That was impossible. Nobody except India knew, not even Joss.
As the Lincoln approached the electronic gates, the inside of the car went dark and a frenzied mob swarmed around the car, pressing tight up against the tinted gray windows. Robert kept up a steady crawl then picked up speed, forcing them to scatter. As they reached Sunset Boulevard, Annabelle turned to India, who had gone pale.
“Did you hear that? They were shouting your name, India. What’s going on? If the media finds out I’m headed for the hospital, there’ll be photographs of me picking out a memorial stone by the morning.”
“A memorial stone? What do you mean?” India looked at her terrified.
“I mean that they’ll trail around after me and whip up some story that I’m dying, or, at the very least, having work done. I’m a name, India. I have to be careful. There are major privacy issues here.”
India began to fill her in on the previous night’s events, about Sophie and Max. As she spoke, she could see Annabelle was fighting to control her temper. Is she angry with me? she thought. Does she understand the way it all happened, that it was out of my control?
“This is all I need right now,” Annabelle snapped. “It couldn’t be worse timing. They’ll be camped out for days until they get something they can sell, and while they’re stalking you, someone will work out where I’m going and…”
Annabelle didn’t even get to the end of the sentence. She couldn’t face it, the thought of what might happen if Rand was wrong. What if I need chemotherapy? she thought, panicking. What if I’m one of the five percent?
Annabelle stared fixedly ahead of her, fighting back tears. India clutched her sister’s hand until the car pulled underneath the parking lot of the black glass medical building, where a nursing assistant led them into a private elevator and then into the imaging department.
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
“You answer it,” Annabelle said.
Joss, jaw clenched, and wrenched the handset from the kitchen wall. The pulse in his temple was palpitating. Listening intently, he nodded and mumbled affirmatives.
“Thanks, Rand,” he said, smiling reassuringly at Annabelle as he handed her the phone.
India was keeping busy, making Annabelle’s favorite pasta: Farfalle Alfredo. “Shit,” she muttered as boiling water spilled over the saucepan and scalded her hand. Turning down the heat, she stood perfectly still and held her breath.
“Okay,” she heard Annabelle say eventually. “In the morning. Thanks, Rand. Thanks.”
Throwing down the tea cloth, India rushed over to the couch and grabbed Annabelle’s hand. “So, she said gently, “what did he say?”
“The results are good from what he can see,” Annabelle said quietly. “And he sounded very calm,” she added, almost as an afterthought. “But I still have to have surgery to remove the lump and be a hundred percent sure it is benign.”
India gave Annabelle a hug. “Right,” she said. “This is very good news. I think we could all do with a drink.” Swallowing hard, she was walking across to the refrigerator in search of wine when her cell phone rang. It was Adam.
“Hey. How are you?” he said. “Did you get some sleep? I tried to reach you yesterday but you didn’t pick up.”
India glanced down at her screen. There was a string of missed calls.
“I’m so sorry, Adam. But can I call you back? This isn’t a great moment.”
“Sure,” he said, uncertainly. “No problem, I’m here.”
Shoving a pile of newspapers to one side of the coffee table, she poured three large glasses of Sancerre.
“So what else did he say?” she asked, conscious that her hands were shaking.
“He wants us to call him in the morning, so he can explain the practicalities.”
“He told me it would explain why you’ve been losing weight, Annie,” Joss added.
“Yes, he said it’s a common thing, something that often happens after you’ve had kids … hormones going insane,” she murmured.
“You’re going to be absolutely fine, Annie,” India said. “We’ll get through this together. Whatever you need, it’s yours. In the meantime, I’ll have dinner ready in about twenty minutes. So why don’t you two go into the den and we can eat in there by the fire?”
“Good idea. Thanks, Indie. I’m glad the girls are at a sleepover,” Joss said, gesturing to the empty beanbags and scattered backpacks. They’ll be at summer camp soon, too. Which means I can focus all my attention on you, Annie.”
India watched as Joss steered Annabelle out of the room. He’s so solid, she thought. He loves her so much.
Back in the kitchen, she drained the pasta and piled it into a giant serving dish, whisking some Dijon mustard into a vinaigrette before tossing the salad and throwing French bread into a basket. Then piling it all onto a large tray, she carried it into the den.
“Here, you must both be starving,” she said, setting it down on the salvaged-oak table.
“This looks amazing,” Annie said, sitting up. “I’m feeling quite lightheaded now. I’ve not eaten properly in twenty-four hours.”
“Awesome, Indie,” Joss said appreciatively. “Where’s your plate?”
“I need to make a quick call,” she said, topping up their wineglasses. “You get started,; I’ll catch up in a minute.”
Leaning up against the countertop, India stretched her neck muscles and then foraged in her purse for her cell. Adam picked up immediately. His tone had changed. He sounded distant and strained.
“I’m sorry, Adam,” she said. “Family stuff. I didn’t mean to cut you off. How’s Max?”
“He’s doing okay,” he said, the warmth returning to his voice. “Depressed, embarrassed, ashamed, I guess. He was drunk, you know. He nearly killed himself and somebody else.”
“Max had been drinking? So the accident WAS his fault?”
“Yeah, and I suppose I should have seen this one coming. All the signs were there,” he said. “He’s going straight from UCLA to rehab again next week and then – ”
“I’m so sorry, Adam,” she interrupted. “I really am, and I want to hear the full story, but I’m about to have dinner with Annie and Joss. I do need to talk to you… There’s a pack of paparazzi camped outside the gates here shouting my name!”
“Shit,” Adam muttered. “Yeah, I’ve got company too.”
“I’m in all evening. Can I call you back in about an hour?”
“Sure. Anytime,” he said.
India clicked off and stood looking out at the garden. It was hard to imagine that anything could have taken her mind off Adam Brooks. Fred’s party seemed like years ago. The panic about Annabelle had frozen time.
Picking up her plate and glass, she joined Joss and Annabelle.
“God, it’s cold,” she said, shivering as she perched on a foot-rest close to the fire. “I’d no idea it gets this chilly at night in August.”
“We’ll have to get you some Uggs,” Joss said, tossing her a cashmere throw. “Put this around your feet.”
“This is delicious, darling,” Annabelle said, resting her fork and flopping back into the downy cushions. “I’ve been ignoring the warning signs, you know.” I’ve pushed through so many walls of exhaustion, I’ve forgotten what it feels like to have energy.”
Joss nodded. “I noticed, but I thought you just needed a good vacation.”
“Yes. Well, I do, but I also think I need to make some changes,” she continued.
India smiled. “Well, you’re about to get a lovely long break,” she said, standing up and lifting a couple of plates. “You two have a lot to talk over. I’m going to give Lizzie a call. I’m sure last night must have been pretty awful for her.”
“I’ll fill you in,” Annabelle said, as Joss looked at her quizzically.
“Have an early night, you two. You look like you need it. It’s been a long day. I love you more than words can say.”
Annabelle smiled up at her. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “I love you too.”
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
Lizzie was sitting in the pitch dark in her living room. The house seemed to reverberate with the echoes of the fight with Stan, a fight that had left her immobilized with rage.
When he’d had the gall to suggest that she should have been watching Sophie more closely, she’d exploded, screamed at him. Hurled every abuse she could come up with. She’d told him to get out, go fuck the nanny, and while he was at it go fuck himself.
Hoisting herself off the couch, she blew her nose and made her way upstairs. Kissing the top of Rhonda’s head, and taking a moment to breathe in her soapy smell, she turned down the bedside light. “Sleep tight,” she murmured, closing the door and making her way down the wrought-iron stairway. The phone rang as she got to the kitchen.
“Hi, Lizzie, it’s India. I hope this isn’t a bad time, I meant to call yesterday,” to make sure Sophie was okay.”
“Hi, India. Hang on a minute, will you?”
“Sorry about that,” she said in hushed tones, closing the door. “How did you know about Sophie?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry Lizzie; I just assumed Stan would have mentioned I was there at the emergency room when they brought Sophie in.” India hoped she wasn’t intruding.
“You were? Are you okay?” Lizzie asked.
“I’m fine, but a friend of mine was rushed into the ER and I spent some time with Stan and…” she trailed off, hesitant to mention Joan by name.
“I haven’t really spoken to Stan much since the other night,” Lizzie replied. “He has a big case on and…,” Lizzie paused. “Oh, fuck it, India, we aren’t exactly having the easiest time right now.” Her voice cracked with emotion as she tried to choke back tears.
India was shocked; calm, beautiful, poised Lizzie in absolute bits on the other end of the phone?
“Lizzie, I am so sorry... I didn’t mean…”
“India,” Lizzie said quietly, pulling herself together quickly. “No, I’m glad you called. It’s just that I’m completely done with pretending I’m okay when my life is falling apart. Your sister is one of my closest friends. I don’t know you so well, but I feel I can absolutely trust you. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”
“Not at all… I’m…”
“It’s really kind of you to ask,” she said, more calmly now. “Sophie is doing fine. I spoke to her this afternoon. I think this has been a wake-up call for her.”
“Sometimes it takes a crisis,” India said. “You know, teenagers look like proper grown people, but their brains aren’t fully formed and their hormones are going crazy. It’s a wonder so many of us survive.”
Lizzie laughed weakly. “Yes, I drove my mother insane, but it isn’t the same; the drugs that are around nowadays scare the hell out of me. But listen, would you still like to come over for lunch one day this week? I would love to see you and Annie and if it’s all the same, I don’t feel I can talk right now.”
“Of course, Lizzie. We’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Thank you, India. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine, Lizzie; we all get bad days. I’ll see you very soon,” India said, putting down her phone before pouring herself a glass of Pellegrino.
The night air was alive with the electric hum of crickets. India looked up at the crescent moon and the North Star. I see that same star from my London apartment, she thought as she walked across the garden to the annex, putting her hand up to her throat. Oh, how she needed to talk to Adam.
“Okay, it’s me … finally,” she said when he picked up. She’d taken a long hot shower and was snuggled under the quilt. “Tell me about Max. I can’t really make sense of all this.”
“You can write the script,” he said. “He’s had serious issues around alcohol since I’ve known him, but he’s been in good shape for at least a year, right up until he split with Pearl.”
“Who’s Pearl?”
“Okay, India.” Adam laughed. “That’s hysterical. There’s only one Pearl. Have you heard of Madonna by any chance?”
“Name rings a bell…” She laughed. “Okay, THAT Pearl, the singer. Of course, go on.”
“He stopped going to AA meetings a while ago. He couldn’t buy into the whole God thing. But he knew he had a problem, and last month he checked himself into rehab.”
India looked at her glass. The thought of never being able to have another drink depressed her. How awful would that be? she thought. No more Sancerre? What, not ever?
Adam sounded exhausted.
“Go on,” she said.
“That was after Pearl walked out on him, ditched him for that Spanish guy, Juan Inglesias, or however you pronounce it, went off on his yacht, shored up in his villa in Majorca… Anyway she was there with that guy at the party the other night. Last thing Max remembers was watching them make out and then knocking back a couple of vodka shots. Blackout. Not good.”
“I’m so sorry…” India sighed, not sure what else to say.
“Adam, I’m sorry, I’m completely worn out, but I have to ask you. It’s important. How do we keep the paparazzi away from me? I feel like I’m in some bad B movie, like I’m losing touch with reality.”
“Welcome to California,” Adam said wearily. “I’m sorry. This is a giant fuckup. I shouldn’t have let Max pick you up. I forget sometimes. If you went around anticipating this kind of stuff all the time you’d go insane.”
“I can see that,” India answered. “Look, I’m not blaming you, but I do have to figure out the best way to deal with it. I don’t want to pull Annie and Joss into any of this.”
India desperately wanted to tell Adam about Annabelle’s scare, but she stopped herself. She was too tired to think clearly.
“Let’s talk tomorrow,” Adam said “You sound exhausted.”
“Yes. I’m wiped. But it was good to hear your voice.”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “It’s late … and I know you’re a girl who needs her sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
Joss tossed a bunch of newspapers on the bedside table and gently kissed Annabelle’s cheek.
“Wake up, sweetheart. It’s past nine.”
Annabelle opened her eyes and stretched. “Coming back to bed?” she whispered, turning over to look up at him, blearily.