Authors: Lucinda Riley
Marchmont Hall, Monmouthshire
David and Greta sat silently for a while, lost in their own thoughts. ‘So, there we are,’ sighed David, as he drained his whisky. ‘Did I ever tell you Ava put
in a complaint to the authorities about the dreadful place Cheska had dumped poor Ma in? Shortly afterwards, it was closed down and the owner prosecuted.’
‘I don’t think so, no. I’m not surprised it took some time for poor LJ to recover,’ said Greta. ‘And even though Cheska deserved it, I’m grateful the police
didn’t press charges against her when they found out she’d caused the fire. I think that would have destroyed her completely.’
‘Actually, Greta, they wanted to prosecute. And advised my mother, as the legal owner of Marchmont, to do the same. The inspector discovered that Cheska lied about the time she arrived at
the Savoy that night. When he checked with reception, they told him it was well past four in the morning when she checked in. Then Mary told him Cheska had told her to take a couple of days off
whilst she was away, which was suspicious in itself.’
‘I see. So how did you stop the police taking it any further?’
‘It was Ma, mostly. The publicity would have been a nightmare and she was concerned about Ava – who’d been through enough. But what finally clinched it with the police was that
Cheska was in a psychiatric unit and would have been deemed unfit to plead anyway. Of course, it meant we lost the insurance money, but that was hardly the point.’
‘David,’ Greta said tentatively, knowing she had to voice the suspicion that had been burning in her mind ever since he’d told her about Ava’s accident outside the Savoy,
‘do you think it was Cheska who pushed me off the pavement that awful night?’
‘I—’ David sighed, not sure what answer to give. He decided on the truth. It was what she had asked for, after all. ‘In retrospect, I think there was a good chance that
she might have done, yes. Especially after what I’ve just told you happened to Ava, it would be the most outrageous coincidence if Cheska hadn’t been involved. But, of course,
there’s no proof, Greta, and there never will be. I’m so sorry, it must be dreadful for you to think it could even be a possibility.’
‘It’s difficult to believe, yes, but I have to accept that Cheska was very sick indeed. God, David’ – Greta put her fingers to her temple – ‘you can’t
imagine how awful I feel that all this was going on and you never told me. I’ve been living in a world of my own all these years and you’ve had to pretend that Cheska had simply had a
breakdown and decided to give up her career and live a quiet life in Switzerland.’ She looked at him. ‘Is that the truth?’
‘More or less, yes. Although, sadly, she can’t leave of her own free will. She’s in a small, secure psychiatric unit at a sanatorium near Geneva. I had to commit her, for her
own sake as much as everyone else’s.’
‘Do you . . . do you think that I’m to blame for her . . . problems? I should never have pushed her so much as a child, I know. After what I’ve remembered, I fear I created a
monster!’
‘If I’m blunt, I doubt her strange childhood was the best thing for her flawed personality. But you must remember there was already something wrong with her. Part of Cheska’s
condition is that she suffers from delusions and paranoia. She lived in a make-believe world when she was a child actress, although you weren’t to know that she’d always found it
difficult to distinguish between fantasy and reality. Look at Shirley Temple. She was in a similar situation to Cheska – a huge star very young – yet she’s grown up to have
successful relationships and become a force for good in her adult life. So, no, Greta, really, you mustn’t blame yourself. You did what you thought was right at the time.’
‘I let her down, David. I should have seen the effect it was having on her. The truth is, she was living the dream I’d once wanted for myself.’
‘We all let her down, one way or another,’ David replied quietly. ‘And being so beautiful and so famous meant that people around her who should have seen what she was were
blind to it. She was a brilliant actress. Every moment of her life. And her powers of manipulation were sublime. She could twist any situation to her benefit and have us all believe her. She
certainly took me in time and time again. The only person who was never completely fooled was dear old Ma. God, I miss her.’
‘I’m sure you do. She was an incredible woman. I wish I could have thanked her for all she did for me, Cheska and Ava before she died.’
‘I think she was ready to go,’ David said. ‘And at least there were no hospitals at the end. When my time comes, I hope I follow Ma’s way out and simply drift away in my
sleep.’
‘Don’t even talk about it, David.’ Greta shuddered. ‘I can’t bear to think of you not being here. At least there’s new life coming to Marchmont. The next
generation.’
‘Yes, I’m grateful for that, too.’
‘What havoc Cheska’s caused us all.’ Greta shook her head. ‘And we’re not even your blood relatives. Just think how different your life would have been if you
hadn’t taken pity on me all those years ago and packed me off to Marchmont.’
‘And how dull! I promise, I don’t regret a second of it.’ David put a hand on Greta’s and squeezed it.
Tor walked in then. ‘How are you, Greta?’ she asked.
‘Very shaken, to be honest. There’s plenty I don’t want to remember.’
‘I’m sure,’ agreed Tor. ‘Anyone for a cup of tea or a hot chocolate before bed?’
‘No thanks, darling,’ said David.
‘Well, I’m going up. It must be all this country air that’s knocking me for six.’
‘I’ll join you in a while.’
‘Okay.’ Tor said goodnight to both of them and left the room.
‘But at least you’ve found happiness now.’ Greta managed to smile.
‘Yes. Tor’s been an absolute brick. And what about you, Greta? I hope that, now you’re back with us, you’ll make up for lost time.’
‘So many wasted years, but it’s going to take me a while to get over what’s happened in the past few days,’ she admitted. ‘It’s as if the floodgates have
opened, and I’m finding it very difficult to sleep. The memories keep appearing in my mind – like a familiar film, seen a long time ago.’
‘It’s been very traumatic for you, and I think you’ve coped admirably so far, really. Although I do think you should go and see your doctor when you get back to London. You
might need some help, just for a while. Right,’ David stood up then bent to kiss Greta goodnight. ‘I’m for my bed. You?’
‘I think I’ll just sit here a little longer, but you go up. Goodnight, David, and thank you again for . . . everything you’ve done for me and my troublesome family.’
David left the room and Greta stared out into the blackness of the night. David mentioning London and the end of the holiday here had filled her with fear. Walking back into the emptiness of her
existence – even
with
the memories she’d now found – was utterly depressing. She would have to deal with the guilt, not to mention the fact that her own daughter had
almost certainly tried to murder her and had rendered her an empty, useless husk for the past twenty-four years. But dealing with it at home, and alone again once more, was an awful thought.
‘Come on now, Greta, you’ve coped before and you’ll cope again,’ she told herself. And perhaps, she mused, trying desperately to be positive, now that she had her memory
back the world wouldn’t seem quite such a frightening place and she wouldn’t feel like an alien wandering around in it. Maybe David was right and this was the start of a whole new life.
She smiled as she thought of him, and the precious history they had shared and had recently found again. He’d loved her once . . . but now it was too late.
Greta stood up and switched off the lights. She must
not
be selfish or think of herself. David was happy now with Tor. And he deserved that happiness more than anyone.
‘Telephone call for you, Master David,’ said Mary, popping her head round the drawing-room door the following morning. David was reading the
Telegraph
by
the fire. ‘It’s from Switzerland.’
David’s stomach turned over as he went into the library to take it. He’d called the sanatorium the night before he’d arrived here at Marchmont, asking after Cheska and passing
on his Christmas greetings to her. He’d been told that she had a bout of bronchitis – something she’d been prone to over the past few years – but was calm and on
antibiotics.
He had visited her sporadically since flying over in the air ambulance with her five years ago. He’d thought it best to get Cheska out of the country and have her disappear rather than
endure the humiliating press interference that would ensue if it was discovered she’d been committed. The place cost a fortune – it was more luxury hotel than hospital – but at
least he knew she was well cared for.
He picked up the receiver. ‘David Marchmont here.’
‘Hello Monsieur Marchmont, it’s Dr Fournier here. I’m sorry to trouble you at this time of year, but I have to inform you that your niece is in intensive care in Geneva. We had
to transfer her there in the early hours of this morning. Sadly, her bronchitis worsened and has now turned to pneumonia. Monsieur, I think you should come.’
‘She’s in danger?’
There was a pause before the doctor answered. ‘I think you should come. Immediately.’
David’s looked up to the heavens and railed at them. Then, feeling selfish because his initial thoughts had been about having his New Year plans with Tor disrupted rather than
Cheska’s obviously critical condition, he said, ‘Of course. I’ll get on a flight as soon as I can.’
‘I am sorry, Monsieur. You know I would not suggest it unless—’
‘I understand.’
David took down the details of the hospital Cheska was in, then rang the local travel agent and asked her to find him the next available flight. Mounting the stairs to throw some things into a
holdall, and dreading telling Tor, he met Greta coming down them.
‘Morning,’ she said.
‘Morning.’
She looked at him. ‘David, is everything all right?’
‘No, Greta. Forgive me for sharing more bad news with you, but it’s Cheska. She’s got pneumonia and is in intensive care in Geneva. I’ve just called the travel agent and
I’m flying over immediately. I’m just going to pack.’
‘Hold on a minute, David. You say Cheska is seriously ill?’
‘From what the doctor said, yes. To be honest, I don’t understand it. When I called a few days ago they said she had a touch of bronchitis. Now it seems she’s deteriorated
dramatically.’
Greta stared at him, then nodded. ‘Sadly, it can happen, David. The same happened to her twin, Jonny. Remember?’
‘Yes. Well, let’s hope she pulls through.’
‘I’ll go.’
‘What?’
‘I’ll go. Cheska is my daughter, after all. And I think you’ve done enough for her. And for me.’
‘But you’ve been through a lot in the past few days, Greta, to say nothing of the fact that you’ve barely left your apartment for the past twenty-four years—’
‘David, stop treating me like a child! I’m a grown woman. And it’s not in spite of but
because
of the past few days that I’m going
.
You have plans with
Tor and I have none. And, besides anything else, I
want
to. Despite everything Cheska is and has been, I love her. I love her—’ Greta’s voice broke, but she pulled
herself together. ‘And I just want to be with her. Okay?’
‘If that’s what you really want, I’ll call the travel agent back and book the ticket in your name. You’d better go up and pack.’
‘I will.’
An hour later Greta was ready to go. She went along the corridor to knock on Ava’s bedroom door.
Ava was lying on her bed, reading a book. ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Simon’s told me I’m not allowed to get up. I had a very restless night. This little one seems to have
multiple arms and legs. Goodness, I’ll be glad when it’s born.’
Greta remembered how uncomfortable she’d been in her last weeks of pregnancy, and a thought crossed her mind. ‘You’re very big, Ava, even for thirty-four weeks. The doctor
hasn’t mentioned twins, has she?’
‘No, not so far, but to be fair, I haven’t had a scan since I was twelve weeks and – and you mustn’t tell Simon, or he’d kill me – I’ve missed my last
couple of appointments. I just had too much on at the practice to make it in to Monmouth.’
‘Well, you must go and have a check-up, darling. It’s very important. The baby must come first.’
‘I know.’ Ava sighed. ‘The problem is that we weren’t exactly making plans to start a family so soon. Both of us are so busy with our careers just now.’
‘Well, I can certainly sympathise with that. I was eighteen and horrified.’
‘Really? Well, I’ll let you into a secret, I was horrified, too! But it seemed so selfish, I didn’t want to tell anyone. Thanks, Granny, you saying that actually makes me feel
a lot better. Did you love your babies when they arrived?’
‘I adored them.’ Greta smiled: the wonderful memory was back within her grasp. ‘Those first two years I now remember as some of the happiest of my life. Now, I don’t know
whether word has filtered through to you, but I’m flying to Geneva tonight. I’m afraid your mother is ill.’
Ava’s face darkened. ‘No, it hadn’t. Is she very sick?’
‘I won’t know until I get there, but I think we should all face the fact that the doctor wouldn’t have called and suggested that someone come if it wasn’t
critical.’
‘I see. I’m not quite sure how I’ll feel if she—’
‘I’m sure, after what she put you through. Ava, now the past has started to come back, I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am about what happened to you. And that I haven’t
been there more for you as a grandmother.’
‘You couldn’t help it, Granny. Cheska is the one to blame, for almost killing you. You’ve had a horrible time ever since. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to
have your memory wiped away.’
‘Dreadful,’ Greta admitted. ‘Anyway, I want you to know before I leave that I’m happy to do anything I can to help once the baby arrives. Just give me a call and
I’ll be there.’