Camellia (77 page)

Miles's age and background made it very hard for him to speak of his illicit love affair with Helena's mother. He had told the story in a crisp, unemotional way, but Mel could see some parallels to the affair between Bonny and Magnus. Miles had met Polly, a chirpy little Cockney chorus girl, when she was in a show at the Catford Hippodrome in 1925, and fallen deeply in love with her despite his marriage and social position. When she disappeared without trace some eighteen months later, he said he had been devastated but had to assume she'd met another man who was free to marry her.

When he moved on to relate the sequel to Polly's story, told to him by Helena, his voice shook. Clearly some forty odd years later he was still troubled by the knowledge that the mistress he loved had chosen to turn her back on the stage and bring up his daughter in poverty, rather than subject him to any scandal or disgrace.

'Well, let's find something to smile about,' Mel said brightly. She was feeling sparkly today. She and Nick had spoken for nearly an hour on the telephone the day before and he was coming down from London this evening. Although she'd only been at Oaklands for two days, her foot was less painful now and being able to talk over with Magnus everything Helena had told her, had put it all into perspective. She saw Miles's past as rather romantic; it didn't disturb or shock her in the way Helena's revelations had.

Now she wanted to clear up all the debris from the past and start afresh. Early this morning she'd written a long letter to Conrad about it all, though now she thought she'd better open it again and add the part about Miles. It was the kind of juicy story he loved and she knew he wouldn't pass it on to anyone else.

'Helena's new film sounds so exciting, and I'm dying to see her thatched cottage too. Magnus said it's very pretty.'

He did smile then at the sudden switch to lighter topics. Helena had been so sure last night that Camellia would never accept her as even a friend, let alone a mother.

'You are a sweet girl,' he said generously. 'Just as Magnus and Helena said you were. I hope in my clumsy way that I've managed to explain how things were for me back in those days. I would hate you to think I knowingly abandoned a woman who was carrying my child. I couldn't have married Polly, but I would have supported her and Helena. It was a great sadness to me that Mary and I never were blessed with children,'

'They aren't always a blessing,' Mel said wryly. 'But tell me about my early days. I know you were a guest at Bonny and John's wedding, and I imagine you and your wife must have come to our house before John died?'

'Many times in the first two or three years of your life. We came to the house in Somerset too,' he said and at last there was a real smile on his lips. 'It was in spring of 1950, you were just a few months old and Mary never stopped cooing over you. She insisted on us taking you out for a walk in your pram. The hills were so steep I was forced to push you myself. It was the first and last time I ever pushed a pram.'

Mel liked this image, even though she could no more imagine him behind a pram than dancing in a tutu. 'Was I a nice baby?'

'Wet and squawky as far as I remember,' he said gruffly. 'But Mary thought you were an angel. Of course, had I known you were my granddaughter then, I certainly would have taken a much closer interest. But that weekend was a very jolly one. John and Bonny were excellent hosts. I remember we had pheasant for dinner and I was astounded that someone as giddy as Bonny could cook so well. She loved her garden too. It was a mass of spring flowers, quite lovely.'

'So you liked her then?'

He gave Mel a sharp look. 'Yes, I did like her, then,' he agreed, if somewhat reluctantly. 'She was such a child – excited, happy, full of bounce and vitality. I had my reservations when John married her; she had something of a reputation you see and I thought she was after John's money. But that weekend I saw exactly why John adored her. She was delightful.'

'And your opinion changed when she wrote to you about Helena?'

'Yes, I was profoundly shocked – not only by the revelations which knocked me sideways, but by the viciousness of the letter. Of course now I know the background I realise it was written in a moment of spite, out of grief that she'd lost her dearest friend, but that is no excuse. My feelings as I read it must have been similar to yours when you discovered John Norton wasn't your real father. All those years I had imagined Polly left me for another man. Now I hear that the young actress whose career I've been pushing is in fact my daughter.'

He paused for a moment, as if to gather himself, and wiped his perspiring brow with a handkerchief. He shot an odd sort of look at Mel, as if unsure how far he should go in his confessions. He cleared his throat and went on.

'Bonny didn't demand any money. Her motive appeared to be purely to cause maximum distress. She threatened to take the story to the newspapers.'

'Then she didn't tell you I was Helena's child?'

'No, not that. I do wish now that she had. She hinted at knowing something even more damaging, but I assumed this was that Helena had been involved in something illegal or criminal. My fears at the time were all for my wife. Mary was a very kind, caring woman, who'd supported me loyally my entire married life. It wasn't fair that someone should destroy her peace and happiness out of sheer malice.'

'You were very brave calling Bonny's bluff,' Mel said. 'What would you have done if she'd gone ahead and exposed everything publicly?'

'I don't know,' he admitted, again wiping his brow. Mel hoped she wasn't submitting him to too much stress: he was after all over eighty. 'I spent a few sleepless nights thinking on that of course. I wasn't entirely convinced it was true at that point. Polly Forester might not have been "my" Polly. Even if she was, Helena might have been another man's child. So I went over to America to see Helena.'

'Why hadn't she told you before?'

'Helena said it was because she hadn't absolutely believed the story her Aunt Marleen had told her. But in my opinion, she is just very like her mother – unable to make waves which might hurt others. We checked on everything together; we even had blood tests. But even before it was confirmed, we both knew that Marleen was right. Helena has the Hamilton colouring, the mouth and nose. You have inherited those too, along with my eyes, which come from my mother's family.

'Anyway, I felt less anxious after talking to Helena. She convinced me Bonny wouldn't make good her threats, that her intention was just to cause friction between the two of us, nothing more. As it turned out she was right, and I bitterly regret that I took Manning into my confidence about it. But at the time I thought it best that we should be prepared for a scandal, and as Manning was Helena's manager I believed he had a right to be forewarned.'

Another piece of the puzzle dropped into place for Mel. She could see now how faced with strong evidence of her maliciousness Edward's antagonism towards Bonny had accelerated into hate. It was even understandable, given that he didn't know the whole story, that he held Bonny responsible for Helena's unhappiness and depression.

'When do you think Edward discovered the truth about me?' she asked.

Sir Miles sighed deeply. 'Helena believes it was well before he killed Bonny, but I don't think that's right. In the light of what we know now, he most certainly would have found a way of disposing of you too if that had been the case. I have to admit that I inadvertently fuelled his rage by feeding him information over the years. I've been a doddering, interfering old fool.'

Mel smiled: he couldn't often have admitted such things. 'Tell me?'

'As you know it was two years before John's death that I received that dreadful letter from Bonny, and as you can well imagine I didn't pay any further social calls to Rye. But I met John alone twice for lunch in London in those two years, and I allowed him to think I was getting too old to go visiting. When John died, Mary and I were on holiday in Kenya. That was fortunate for me as it meant I had the perfect excuse not to attend his funeral and come face to face with Bonny. We did of course send flowers and a message of sympathy.

'Manning called on me in London some four or five months later. I showed him John's obituary in
The Times
and we discussed whether or not Helena should be told. We decided, bearing in mind that she had just begun a new film, that it would be in her best interests to say nothing.'

'That was very wrong of you,' Mel said.

'With hindsight, it was,' he agreed, rubbing his hand thoughtfully around his several chins. 'But believe me, Camellia, I was, like Edward, only attempting to shield Helena from any distress. We guessed she would want to go and see Bonny, and bearing in mind how acrimoniously her last visit had ended, we felt she was better off in ignorance.

'My wife died two years later. I notified Bonny because Mary had been fond of her. Mary, of course, knew nothing of my change of heart towards Bonny and had continued to send you cards and presents for birthdays and Christmas, right up till her death.

'But Bonny ignored my letter; she neither came to the funeral nor sent a letter of condolence. I felt perfectly justified then in severing all links with her. I certainly didn't want Helena to become involved with the woman again.'

Mel could remember getting many cards and presents from her parents' old friends when she was little. Then like the visitors they'd once had, they all gradually stopped coming. She wondered if Bonny managed to upset all those people, or whether she had in fact distanced herself purposely.

'I saw Manning many times in the subsequent years,' Miles went on. 'Twice or three times in London, but mainly over in Hollywood when I went to see Helena. She was in a bad way at that time and both of us were desperately worried about her. It was during one of these visits about three years ago when I asked Manning if he and Helena had heard about Bonny's death. I had only learned about it myself from the newspaper reports about you and that friend of yours who died from a drug overdose in Chelsea, and I'd taken the cuttings with me to show him.'

'You knew about that and showed him?' she exclaimed.

Miles blushed furiously and dropped his eyes to his lap. 'I'm sorry. I know now from both Nick and Magnus that you didn't deserve all the sensationalism that followed that incident. I don't wish to hurt you now by bringing it up. But the name Camellia Norton was emblazoned in the papers and of course I recognised it, as anyone would who had once dangled that child on his knee.'

'How did Edward react?' she asked. 'I mean to Bonny's death?'

'He seemed as surprised as I was when he read it,' Miles said with a grimace. 'He was pretty unpleasant about the news, but there was absolutely nothing about his manner to make me think he'd had any prior knowledge of her death. He insisted that we keep it from Helena as it would upset her.'

Mel frowned at him.

'I know, I had no right to act as a censor,' Miles said with a shrug. 'But put yourself in my shoes for a moment. My only child, one I can't even openly acknowledge is chronically depressed, a golden career on the stage all but finished. Over the years I have been led to believe that much of Helena's deep unhappiness is attributable to Bonny Norton. Would you under those circumstances give her more distressing news?'

'Maybe not. But go on. Do you think Edward guessed the truth when he saw my picture?'

'Perhaps. He kept the cuttings saying he might broach the subject with Helena when she was feeling better. Maybe when he'd had time to study the pictures more closely he saw the similarities I can see for myself now. You have to remember he knew Helena better than anyone, right from when she was eighteen. Anyway, when I returned home to England, I heard from my manservant that you'd called at my home. The next time I spoke to Manning on the telephone I reported this to him and he did seem a little rattled. Asked me all kinds of damn fool questions. But as you left no address I couldn't pass anything more on.'

Miles cleared his throat. 'As Magnus may have told you, Helena accepted the role in
Broken Bridges
without telling Edward. One has to assume he was thrown into a state of panic when he found out. Not only was it the first time in years that she'd made a major decision for herself, but the film was to be made here in England. On top of that Helena didn't tell him, or myself, that Magnus had contacted her. We both thought that Oaklands was just a country house hotel that the production secretary had selected for her.

'Edward came to see me first when he arrived in England, and telephoned Helena from my house, though I didn't hear what they talked about. Helena has said since he was a little churlish about her meeting up with Magnus, and renting a cottage without his approval, just as she expected, but he seemed pleased at the publicity she'd got from the
News of the World,
and indeed offered to call at their offices to pick up any letters. One has to presume that he devised his plan for abducting you at that point.'

Mel thought Edward was probably a far better actor than anyone had ever given him credit for. 'What did you think of him? I mean before all this happened?' she asked.

'I trusted him implicitly, as anyone would who had seen him caring for Helena with such devotion,' Miles said firmly. 'But I didn't ever like him. I thought he was queer. In all senses.'

Mel half smiled at the old man's bluntness. She had a feeling he knew a great deal more about Edward Manning, but he was old fashioned and would never discuss such things. 'Let's hope they catch him soon,' she said. 'Then maybe we can put all this behind us.'

Miles put his head to one side and looked quizzically at her. 'You sounded just like your father then,' he said.

'I didn't know you knew him?'

'It was me who suggested Helena for the part of Prince Charming at the Hampstead theatre,' Miles said with a smile. 'Ray Kennedy was a clever, amusing and astute man. He was a cad to Helena, but I liked him.'

'What went wrong between them?' Mel had intended to ask Helena about this the next time she saw her, but it wouldn't hurt to have Miles's opinion too.