The Awakening of Poppy Edwards (3 page)

I should have told her right there and then, but I was pretty certain that would have put an end to it. If I could buy myself some time, I thought, I could come up with something. So that’s what I decided to do, not thinking for a moment that what I’d be doing was digging myself in deeper. ‘Nothing’s wrong,’ I said. ‘Let me give you some money for the cab.’

The look she drew me then! ‘Just so that we’re as clear as crystal,’ she said, and her voice pretty much tinkled like crystal as she spoke, ‘I don’t want anything more from you than I’ve had. I don’t need to be recompensed or rewarded. I don’t need to go through the charade of one or other of us saying we’ll call, and I certainly don’t need you to pretend that it meant anything more than it did. I might not have your experience, but I’m neither an innocent nor an ingénue.’

See, no strings, just exactly what I’d wanted. Only suddenly I didn’t. She fastened her coat and crossed to the mirror to smooth her hair, which I realised must be a wig, and was amazed had stayed in place. She was cool as the proverbial English cucumber. I was impressed, I have to say. Acting or not, she was good. I wanted to applaud her. I wanted to kiss her. So help me, I wanted to kiss her, and it took every bit of self-control not to as she turned, gave me a theatrical little wave and sauntered out of the bedroom. I waited until I heard the click of the outer door closed, and then I dropped back onto the bed, where the sheets smelled of us, and I lay there for the rest of the night, wondering what on earth I was going to do in the morning.

Chapter Three

Poppy

I must be a much better actress than I thought
, I was thinking to myself as I quit the Ambassador, sneaking past the desk clerk downstairs while he was on the telephone, then out onto Wiltshire Boulevard, which I know after all these years I should just call
Wiltshire
, but that would be like calling Regent Street
Regent
, or Drury Lane just plain old Drury. There is Piccadilly, mind you.

I know, I’m what do you call it—procrastinating. All the way in the cab home—see, I said
cab
and not
taxi
—I was congratulating myself on how coolly I’d made my exit, and how I’d managed to head him off when he looked as though he might suggest meeting up, though actually I wasn’t sure that was what he’d been going to suggest. And I hadn’t for a second thought he’d really been offering to pay me with the offer of a cab fare either, but it had been easy, you see, to pretend offence when half of me was wanting to get right back into bed with him and the other half was telling me to get out fast.

I thought about that when I got home. It was too late to go to bed, so I squeezed myself some orange juice and sat out by the pool. I love the oranges in California. I love that I can say casually,
I squeezed myself some juice and sat out by the pool
. My pool. My house. When I came out here, I was kind of famous, in an English sort of way, for being one of the Edwards Sisters. But on my own—I was starting from scratch. Daisy’s a better actress than me. When she walks on-stage, the audience go still. But I have the kind of face the camera loves. Movies are not the same. Nothing’s the same without Daisy, but since I had no option but to be without Daisy, I’m lucky I
did
have the option to make movies.

To someone practically brought up on the stage as we were, it’s not real acting, mind you. For real acting you need an audience and a voice. It was Daisy’s idea to run off to the theatre. We lied about how old we were. They must have been glad to get rid of us, the orphanage, or they’d have looked harder. We must have had something or they’d have sent us back, that first company we joined. I wonder sometimes if any of that first company ever see my pictures. If they did, they’d probably think them a joke. It’s hardly acting when you don’t use your voice.

That’s why I sing. Partly why I sing. You’re probably thinking I’m a bit of a drama queen, going on about how tough it’s been when I didn’t lose my husband, and compared to what I had on the stage as one of the Edwards Sisters, I’ve got real fame and fortune now. I have it all, you’re probably thinking. I agree. But you see, I thought I’d had it all in London. This was a very different
all
. I miss the bit that I’d had to cut out. The bit that wasn’t so much left behind, but dead. So I sang and it helped, a bit. A little bit. I thought it was more than a little, until I met Lewis. But that’s jumping ahead.

Sitting by the pool, drinking my freshly squeezed orange juice that morning, I was deliberately not thinking about Daisy or Lewis. I was reminding myself how lucky I was to be here, to have found such an excellent agent, to have a face that fits.
I’m rich
, I was thinking. It’s fun being rich, though not as fun as I thought it would be. I’m not really that keen on the parties, and it cuts you off from the real world, the combination of money and a famous face. That’s why Randolph and I work so well together.

I fell asleep on the sun lounger, thinking about poor Randolph. I woke up with the sun coming up, thinking about Lewis, and I had that jangly feeling, the too-much-coffee feeling, though, ironically, it was probably because I hadn’t had any coffee to drink at all that morning. Another Californian habit I’d acquired, drinking coffee and not tea. I put the percolator on. I have help, but not full-time. I like to look after myself, even if everyone thinks I’m rather strange for doing so. I like to cook, too. My kitchen is everything I never had growing up. I know, I know, but you have to make what you can of what you’ve got, right?

I headed upstairs to shower—another American habit I have now, showering instead of bathing. I stood there under the stream of water, enjoying the way it tingled over my skin, enjoying the way it reminded me of last night. And then not enjoying that, because that was one of the things that were making me edgy, that wanting. Wanting more before I’d even left. I didn’t like to be distracted. I didn’t like the idea that Lewis was a distraction. I never allowed any man to be a distraction. It was one of my rules. One of the reasons for my success. At the risk of repeating myself, it was one of the main reasons I was happy.

* * *

‘And cut. That’s a wrap. Thank you, darlings.’

‘And thank the Lord for that.’ Randolph rolled his eyes at me as he straightened up from our trademark clinch. He was dressed in flowing Arabian robes for this picture. I wasn’t wearing very much, lying on the divan under the canopy that was supposed to be under the desert stars. You can get away with a lot if you set a movie in some make-believe exotic location.

Randolph held out a hand to help me up. He’s always a gentleman, even when the cameras aren’t rolling. ‘Word on the grapevine is that our next is to be a pirate. What do you say to a bit of swashbuckling, Poppy Poppet?’

I didn’t say anything. I hadn’t signed the latest contract, even though my agent swore it was one of the best deals in Hollywood. I would sign, of course I would. In fact, I had a meeting with him in half an hour to go over it. I fluttered my fingers at Randolph and headed off the set calling toodle-pip. He loves that. So English, he says. I don’t tell him I never said it back home. I was reminding myself that this deal was exactly what I wanted, to be one of the top-paid actresses in the movies, even if the movies I made were becoming tedious, when I opened the door of my dressing room.

And there he was. ‘What the—’ I stopped, mouth hanging open, door wide open, too. ‘I thought I made it clear last night…’ I
thought
, you see, that’s all it was. I didn’t think about the implications of him being there, not only in the studio, but in my personal dressing room, not until he spoke.

‘Close the door, Poppy.’

Poppy!
I felt sick to my stomach. ‘Get out.’

‘I’m not a reporter, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

It was, but I wasn’t going to let him think he could read my mind. And it wasn’t what he’d write that was making me feel sick. It was—I felt let-down. ‘You lied to me,’ I said.

He raised his brows at that. ‘Vera?’ he said, and closed the door, pulling me into the dressing room, and I let him. I let him lead me over to the couch, sit me down, let him sit down beside me, because I was so stunned.

‘Did you follow me last night?’

He shook his head.

‘Did you know then, last night?’

He nodded.

‘How did you know? Did someone at the club tell you? Or—wait—are you from the studio?’

‘No.’

‘Because if you are, I’m not in breach of contract. You can’t sue me. I don’t use my own name. I don’t even get paid.’

‘Poppy, I’m not from the studio—at least, not from your studio.’

‘I don’t have a studio after today. I haven’t signed—oh, my God, is that what you’ve come to tell me, that the offer’s not on the table any longer?’ The offer that I’d taken so much for granted that I’d actually been pretending to myself that I didn’t care. The offer that would make me money enough to give up acting in a few years and to live the high life, just on my interest, if that’s what I wanted. Which it wasn’t. ‘Well, is it?’ I said, and my voice sounded shrill, even to me. What was funny, if funny’s the right word, it wasn’t the loss of the offer that I was so upset about—it was him. Lewis. He’d lied to me. And, yes, I’d lied to him, but it wasn’t the same. He’d deceived me and it hurt. It shouldn’t hurt. That it did, that made me even more mad.

‘Fine,’ I said, because letting him know what I really thought was out of the question, ‘you know what, I’m sick of to death of making these stupid movies anyway. It’s not acting, and in case you didn’t know, just changing the scenery and dressing me up as Marie Antoinette instead of a—a desert houri doesn’t fool anyone. Five films I’ve made in this last year, and if there had been a script, which there obviously wasn’t, it would have been the exact same for each of them.’

I’d got up from the couch to make this speech. I was glaring at him, and I really was almost as furious as I seemed. He should have cowered. He should at least have looked a tiny bit discomfited. Instead, he had the temerity to smile. ‘You’ve no idea how glad I am to hear that.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Is this your houri outfit?’ he asked, completely ignoring my question. ‘Is a houri the same as a concubine? I must admit, it has a certain appeal, whatever it is. In fact I’m willing to bet that I’d much prefer it to your Marie Antoinette. Which I’ve never seen you play, incidentally. How did I miss that?’

‘You didn’t. I haven’t.’

I think I already said that I wasn’t wearing very much. A pair of harem pants that weren’t transparent, but were designed to look as if they were, being lined with flesh-coloured silk. A jewelled thing on top that was apparently based on one of the famous Mata Hari’s outfits, and covered me less than my own underwear. I grabbed a silk kimono from the screen in the corner and put it on, not because I was embarrassed by my body—I’d revealed far too much of it on-set for that—but I was embarrassed by the fact that I liked him looking at me, and I liked his reaction. ‘I have a meeting in half an hour,’ I said to him, trying to sound cool.

‘Had,’ he answered. ‘With your agent. I cancelled it. And before you get on—what do you guys call it—your high horse—do me a favour and just listen. I have a proposition for you.’

‘Right. Of course you have. Well, I don’t do the casting couch thing. I never have and I don’t intend to start with you.’ I wasn’t angry now. I wasn’t about to get on my high horse. I was just what
he
would call gutted, though I wasn’t about to let him see that. ‘So whatever it is you’re proposing, Mr Whateveryourname is, the answer is no.’

‘It’s Cartsdyke,’ he said. ‘My name is Lewis Cartsdyke.’

Lewis

Usually people are pleased when I tell them who I am. Sometimes a bit flustered, occasionally a bit intimidated, but mostly pleased. Poppy looked at me in horror.

‘
You’re
Lewis Cartsdyke?
The
Lewis Cartsdyke? Broadway producer? Owner of Cartsdyke Studios? Why aren’t you older? You should have a moustache. A monocle. A cigar. Bloody hell, why didn’t you tell me?’

She sank down onto the edge of the couch and dropped her face into her hands. When I tried to touch her, she shook me away violently. ‘I screwed up,’ I said, because it was abundantly clear to me that I wouldn’t get anywhere without admitting the truth of it. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—last night. I had no intentions of—but then I saw you sing, and I guess my brain just shut off.’

She just stared at me, her face a complete blank.

‘Poppy, what we did had nothing to do with business. You’ve got to believe me. I’m just the same as you—I absolutely never mix business and pleasure and I certainly don’t kiss and tell.’

She was gazing down at her hands. Her hair, her own hair, was like a fluffy golden halo round her head, utterly at odds with the outfit she wore. She had a perfect profile. No wonder the camera loved her. That straight little nose. The cheeks. And the mouth. Just looking at that mouth made me want to kiss her. And thinking about kissing her made me think about all the other things we’d done and thinking about that made me want to do them all over again and so much more, and I had to struggle real hard to get my mind back to business. Which, believe me, is not something I struggle with often.

‘What if I do,’ she said to me, and my confusion must have shown on my face. ‘Kiss and tell,’ she said. ‘What if I do that?’

‘You never do.’

She shrugged. ‘I’ve never been out of contract before. What’s my silence worth, Mr Cartsdyke?’

There was a definite challenge in her voice. She watched me, one thin eyebrow raised. ‘Are you trying to blackmail me?’ I asked her.

‘Is it working?’

‘You haven’t thought it through. I might not like having my name in the press, but it won’t do me any harm to have the world know that I’ve seen one of Hollywood’s most beautiful stars in the flesh.’ I couldn’t resist touching her leg, running my hand up the outside of her thigh. I wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t been so sure she was playing with me. I’m not like that. I certainly don’t do business that way. But she was, she was definitely playing with me. And I found I liked playing with her.