The Angel Tree (27 page)

‘Well, the good news is that Cheska is in perfect health physically.’

‘Thank God,’ she murmured. She had imagined all sorts of terrible things whilst waiting for the doctor to finish his examination.

‘However, I would say that her . . . psychological condition is currently not as good.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, Mrs Simpson, I asked her about this imaginary friend of hers. She tells me he talks to her all the time, especially at night. Apparently, it’s he who asks her to do these . .
. unpleasant things. She also told me that she has recurring nightmares and suffers from bad headaches.’

‘Yes,’ said Greta impatiently, ‘but what is it that’s causing these problems?’

‘It might be, Mrs Simpson, that her imagination is playing tricks on her because she’s continually under such a high level of stress. After all, she has been in the limelight since
she was four. But, from talking to Cheska and hearing what you have told me, there’s also evidence that your daughter could be suffering from a condition called schizophrenia. So I’m
going to refer her to a psychiatrist who can assess her properly.’

‘Oh my God!’ Greta had heard the term before and knew exactly what it meant. ‘Are you telling me she might be mad?’

‘Schizophrenia is an illness, Mrs Simpson. We don’t refer to it as madness in this day and age,’ cautioned the doctor. ‘Besides, she must be professionally assessed
before any potential diagnoses can be confirmed. Do remember that Cheska is also trying to deal with the onset of puberty, a disturbing time for any young girl. However, the one thing I would
recommend without hesitation is that she be allowed immediate time off. Take her somewhere quiet for a few months. Give her time to relax and grow up out of the public eye.’

‘But, doctor, Cheska has just signed a new contract for two pictures. She’s due to start shooting the first one in a couple of weeks. She simply can’t take a few months off.
Besides, she loves it. It’s our . . .
her
life.’

‘Mrs Simpson, you pay me to recommend suitable treatment and this is what I’m suggesting. Now, I’m going to contact my colleague and make an immediate appointment for you and
Cheska to see him. In the meantime, I’ll give you a prescription for some mild tranquillisers. They’re only to be used if Cheska seems particularly distressed. They’ll calm her
down but shouldn’t affect her ability to function normally.’

‘Do you really think she should see a psychiatrist?’ Greta asked. ‘As you say, it may just be growing up and working too hard that has brought this behaviour on.’

‘Yes, I do. Cheska may need additional medication, such as chlorpromazine, and it’s better to be safe than sorry. Here’s the prescription for the tranquillisers.’ The
doctor handed it to her. ‘Do you want me to tell Cheska what I’ve told you?’

‘No, thank you, doctor. I’ll explain it to her,’ said Greta hurriedly.

‘All right. And remember, Mrs Simpson, until she sees the psychiatrist, complete rest is the order of the day. I’ll telephone you when I’ve confirmed the
appointment.’

‘Yes. Thank you, doctor. Goodbye.’

Greta left the room and collected a pale Cheska. They walked out into Harley Street and Greta hailed a taxi.

‘What did the doctor say was wrong with me, Mummy?’ asked Cheska quietly as they were driven home.

Greta squeezed her hand. ‘Absolutely nothing, darling. He says you’re in perfect health.’

‘But what about my headaches? And the . . . funny dreams?’

‘The doctor says you’ve been working too hard, that’s all. Nothing to worry about. He’s given me a prescription for some pills to help relax you. He also said you could
do with a holiday. So I was thinking we might go to Marchmont for a couple of weeks.’

Cheska’s face brightened. ‘Oh, that would be lovely! Will Uncle David be there?’

‘I doubt it, but we can stay with Aunt LJ and Mary and you can rest and get ready for the start of your new film.’

‘Yes, Mummy.’

Greta stole a glance at Cheska and was relieved to see that her daughter’s eyes looked brighter than they had done for days.

That night, after giving Cheska one of the pills and putting her to bed, Greta sat in the sitting room nursing a small whisky. The doctor had called earlier, confirming
Cheska’s appointment with the psychiatrist in two days’ time. Greta had thanked him and assured him she’d keep the appointment. However, she’d already decided she’d
take Cheska to Marchmont the following day and see how she was after the break. Postponing the next film was not an option, even if the contract allowed it. Out of sight was out of mind when it
came to the film-going public, especially at this point in Cheska’s career, as she made the transition through adolescence. Any prolonged absence from the screen would kill it stone dead.

As for Cheska being schizophrenic – which was still tantamount to madness in Greta’s eyes, no matter what the doctor said – well, the very thought was ridiculous. Her perfect
daughter: talented, beautiful, a huge star . . .

The poor thing needed some rest, that was all. And Greta would make sure she got it.

Cheska returned from her two-week break at Marchmont calmer, refreshed and on two tranquillisers a day. Although she seemed a little quieter than normal, the headaches and
nightmares had stopped. Greta called the Harley Street doctor to ask for a repeat prescription for the tranquillisers. He refused to write it until Cheska had seen the psychiatrist. Greta explained
that after a two-week holiday her daughter seemed much improved and she really didn’t want to unsettle her with further examinations. The doctor stood firm, telling Greta that tranquillisers,
however mild, were a temporary measure only and not to be taken long term. Irritated, Greta then called her own local doctor and made an appointment to see him. Later that week she went to the
surgery and told him that she herself was suffering from tension and anxiety. She asked for a prescription for the same tranquillisers Cheska had been given, explaining that a friend had
recommended them. The doctor wrote it out for her immediately, without any further questions.

A week later Cheska was on the set of her new film. Greta increased her daughter’s medication to three tablets a day.

Cheska was sitting in her dressing room reading a magazine article about Bobby Cross, the latest British pop sensation. She preferred him to Cliff Richard, although, since
she’d bought her gramophone, ‘Living Doll’ had hardly been off the turntable. She touched the photograph of Bobby’s face dreamily and wondered whether she’d ever
manage to convince her mother to let her go to one of his concerts.

She put down the magazine with a sigh and reached for the large pile of fan mail Greta had left for her to look through. She pulled out a letter at random and read it.

Cheska put down the letter and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Things had been better since she’d started taking the tablets. The headaches and the voice that had
haunted her dreams and made her do the bad things had stopped.

Yet now she felt nothing. It was almost as if she weren’t real, only masquerading as a living, breathing person. There was a numbness inside her that made her feel she was looking at
herself and others from a distance.

Touching her cheek, she felt its warmth and it comforted her somehow.

She sighed heavily. She had thousands of adoring fans and a successful career that gave her privileges others only dreamt of. Most people spent their lives trying to attain what she’d had
from the age of four. Yet, at thirteen years of age, she felt as old as the hills. Everything seemed pointless.

There was a knock on the door.

‘They’re ready for you now, Miss Hammond.’

‘Just coming.’

She stood up, ready to face an hour of illusion that seemed so much more real than her own existence. As she left the dressing room, Cheska wondered whether her own life would have a happy
ending.

Leon ushered Greta and Cheska into his office and kissed them both warmly.

‘You both look well. Sit down and make yourselves comfortable. Now, Cheska, you know your mother and I have been talking a lot over the past couple of months about where we take your
career from here. And we have both agreed that as you have now reached the grand old age of fifteen we have to change the public’s perception of you.’

‘Yes, Leon,’ answered Cheska, sounding bored.

‘As you know, making the transition from child actress to adult star can be fraught with difficulties, but I think Rainbow Pictures has found just the vehicle to help you on your
way.’ Leon smiled again and pushed a script across his desk.

Cheska took it and looked at the title.
Please, Sir, I Love You
. The script was snatched out of her hands by her mother before she had time to turn the first page.

Greta glared at Leon. ‘I thought we’d agreed that you clear scripts with me first?’

‘I do apologise, Greta, but this only arrived at the office last night.’

‘Who’s it by?’ she snapped.

‘Peter Booth. A new screenwriter for whom Rainbow Pictures has high hopes.’

‘Cheska would be playing the lead?’

‘Of course,’ Leon assured her. ‘And the good news is that Charles thinks he’s signed Bobby Cross, the pop singer, to play opposite her. It would be his first
movie.’

‘But Cheska would still have top billing?’

‘At the very least, I’m sure we could swing it so that she shares it with Bobby,’ Leon said tactfully. ‘The point is, Greta, this picture will win her an army of new
fans. All the teenage girls will go to see Bobby Cross, and their boyfriends will fall in love with Cheska. It’s a wonderful script, totally different from anything she’s done before.
And you’ll get your first screen kiss, to boot,’ said Leon, winking at Cheska.

‘You mean I’d have to kiss Bobby Cross?’ Cheska blushed, her eyes lighting up.

‘Yes, more than once, I believe.’

‘Leon, there’s a swear word here. That’ll have to go,’ Greta said, leafing through the script.

‘Greta, it’s 1961. You have to understand that the world is changing, and we in the movie business have to mirror that change.
A Taste of Honey
– Rita Tushingham
pregnant without a ring on a her finger – is out in just a few weeks, and—’

‘Really, Leon! Not in front of Cheska.’

‘Okay, okay. I’m sorry, but what I’m trying to say is that teenage girls are no longer tied to their mother’s apron strings, sitting at home learning to cook until the
right husband comes along. Next year, MGM is releasing the screen version of
Lolita
, and Alan Bates is starring in
A Kind of Loving
. Rainbow Pictures wants to keep up with the
times. The youngsters are the people filling the movie theatres now. Weepies, war films and costume dramas are passé. The kids want to identify with what they’re seeing on the
screen.’

‘Thank you for the sermon, Leon,’ said Greta. ‘I am perfectly well aware of the way things are changing. I’m not quite in my dotage yet. Now, what exactly is this film
about?’

‘It’s about a teenage schoolgirl who falls in love with her young, handsome music teacher. They run away together and the teacher forms a band. Meanwhile, they’re pursued
around the country by the authorities—’

‘That’s ridiculous, Cheska’s only fifteen!’ Greta interjected furiously.

‘Calm down, Greta. The character in the movie is sixteen and by the time it premieres next summer, Cheska will be too. Besides, the subject matter may sound a little risqué, but
apart from the odd kiss, there’s no other, er, physical stuff – it’s essentially a fun film, light-hearted, with all the music written by Bobby Cross. It would be filmed on
location – to give it that touch of reality which is so popular at the moment.’

‘It sounds great, doesn’t it, Mummy?’ said Cheska eagerly, and rather desperately.

‘I’ll take the script home and read it, Cheska, then we’ll decide,’ Greta replied firmly.

‘Well, don’t take too long. As we both know, Cheska’s career is at a critical point. There are lots of other pretty young girls around who the studio has signed.’

‘But none with the army of fans that Cheska has. That’s what gets bottoms on seats in the cinemas,’ Greta reminded him. ‘Come along, Cheska, we must get home.’ She
stood up and signalled to her daughter to do the same.

‘Goodbye, sweetheart.’

‘Goodbye, Leon.’ Cheska replied sadly as she followed her mother out of the room.

When they’d left Leon sat back in his chair and thought about how the meeting had gone. He’d always admired Greta for the way she had doggedly steered Cheska to such success. But
just lately she had become more and more domineering. Granted, Cheska was hugely famous, but her admirers came mainly from the older generation. She wasn’t a little girl any longer, so had
lost the innate innocent qualities that had made her such a big child star. Box-office receipts for her last film had been down on the previous one, and she hadn’t been offered a script for
nine months. Cheska now had to convince Rainbow Pictures and a whole new public that she was still worth paying to see as an adult actress. Greta simply had to realise that the balance of power had
shifted and she could no longer call the shots.

Leon was at least relieved that Cheska was turning from a lovely-looking child into a beautiful young woman. Her waif-like slimness combined with her flowing blonde hair and exquisite features
would make any pimply youth drool over her for weeks. Cheska’s future lay in her ability to grow up and turn the male population on.