The Perfect Location (39 page)

‘Of course, it’s not far away. I can ring them and let them know you want to visit,’ said the doctor.

He walked away, leaving Alex and Sapphira in the hallway with the waiting women and babies. Alex took Sapphira’s hand. ‘It’s pretty full on, huh? I had no idea how bad it was.’

‘Who lets their child get married at ten years old?’ asked Sapphira, angry at the thought of childhoods lost.

‘It’s cultural. It will take generations for this to no longer become acceptable. Your role is to help those who are here now.’

‘You’re right, but I’m devastated for these women and those children left behind. I didn’t realize either how much help they need. They need money, material aid and most of all, awareness,’ she said, thinking. Taking the video camera out of her bag, she started to film and speak into the microphone. ‘We are in Addis Ababa, we are bringing your attention to the women and children who are suffering at the moment.’ She turned the camera around so she was filming herself. ‘I want to make you aware of a great programme that Alex and I are working with.’ She walked over and started to film them together. Alex put his hand up to pause the camera. ‘Are you sure you want me in it?’

‘I’m sure. If people see us together on this tape showing what we have seen here then we will get more media coverage. It will be news around the world,’ she said, facing him.

‘It’s a hell of a way to announce our relationship,’ he said, raising his eyebrows. ‘It is a relationship, I’m assuming?’

Sapphira turned the camera back on to them. ‘I’m here with Alex, my boyfriend, and we want to tell you about this amazing programme helping women and children in Africa.’ Turning it off, she looked at him. ‘Happy?’ she asked, smiling.

Sapphira and Alex took the short car trip to the orphanage, driven by a translator organized by Giulia. Sapphira was shocked at the state of the orphanage; although the children were fed and clothed, they had little to play with and the living quarters were modest to say the least.

‘At least there’s a school for them to attend,’ said Alex.

Sapphira filmed as they walked around, the children smiling shyly for the camera. The orphanage director took them around the grounds, talking while the translator spoke to Sapphira and Alex.

‘He says they have very little money for things. They try to keep the children in the best condition they can but the orphan crisis is of epidemic proportions here at the moment.’ They walked to the side of the building. ‘This is where we house the children under one year,’ said the translator.

Sapphira looked inside and saw rows of cots with babies inside, some asleep, with several young women attending to the children, while others played in the dust with the few meagre toys they had. Sapphira saw old ramshackle prams dotted about the yard, with babies in them.

The translator listened to the orphanage director and then spoke to them. ‘Some of the babies go to foster families or sometimes family members come to claim them but many are just left here.’ He pointed towards a pram near the fence. ‘That baby there was found yesterday, under a tree, she is very sick. They are trying to give her some sunlight and warmth as she cries a lot and disturbs the other babies.’

Sapphira stood and stared at the pram. ‘Under a tree?’

The translator spoke to the director again and then said to Sapphira. ‘Yes, she was found under a tree out in the plains. Some aid workers who passed her brought her in. She’s about two weeks old. It’s quite common for female babies to be abandoned like this. She’s been crying non-stop, won’t accept a bottle. The doctor who looked at her said she is a little malnourished but has nothing significantly wrong with her, as far as he could see.’

Sapphira handed the camera to Alex, who kept filming. She walked towards the pram, her heart beating wildly. Could it be her, she wondered. Leaning over the pram, she peered in. The baby stopped crying and looked at her, tears framing her brown eyes. ‘Hello,’ said Sapphira.

The baby stopped and listened to her voice. Sapphira lifted her out of the pram and held her close. Holding her and rocking her, she started to sing the song her father sang to her, before his addiction rendered him helpless.

Alex watched through the camera, mesmerized by Sapphira and the small baby. The translator watched with the orphanage director and they spoke briefly and then the translator spoke to Alex.

‘Maybe she can try her with the bottle? She will not take it from anyone.’

Alex called to Sapphira. ‘She needs to be fed. Want to try? She doesn’t seem to like the bottle.’

Sapphira nodded her head but kept looking at the baby, singing. The nurse brought out a chair and a pillow for her to rest the baby on and handed her a bottle of formula. Sapphira let the nurse get her in the right position and then spoke to the baby. ‘Little one, have your bottle and then you’ll feel better. Okay?’

The baby turned her head to the direction of Sapphira’s voice; she started to root at Sapphira’s arms for food, and Sapphira gently put the teat of the bottle into her mouth. She drank steadily until the nurse told the translator Sapphira had to stop and burp the baby. Sapphira sat her up and rubbed her back like the nurse was showing her and the baby let out a colossal belch. Alex laughed from behind the camera. Sapphira leaned the baby back and kept feeding her, the baby watched Sapphira’s face while drinking the entire bottle and then closed her eyes as she drained the contents.

Sapphira put her up on her shoulder and rubbed her back again. She could hear the milk going down into her stomach. The baby burped again and Sapphira placed her gently into the pram, blissful and milk drunk.

She turned to Alex, who was still filming her and the baby. ‘That’s her, that’s my baby. She was born around the time you saved me. She told me in a dream she would come back and that I had to find her. I have. I’m here. She’s mine, Alex, and I am hers. I know it in my heart.’

Rose had taken New York by storm, attending every event Lauren sent her way. Gallery openings, parties, museum fund-raisers. She was profiled in American
Vogue
as the new style icon, photographed in many of the outfits she and Sophie had chosen. With a new shorter haircut and make-up expertly applied by the make-up artist Kelly had recommended, Rose was having the time of her life. Randy and Karen, back in LA had suggested she audition for a new play by a young London writer whose previous works had been shown at the Donmar Warehouse. Rose had not auditioned since she was first married and was nervous, tearing apart her wardrobe looking for the right outfit. She rang Sophie in despair.

‘I’ve got nothing to wear. Everything is too formal,’ she moaned.

Sophie, who was in LA, listened. ‘Rose, you have many clothes, all of which are fine. This is not really about the clothes, is it?’

‘I suppose not. I’m afraid they will think I’m just some silly Hollywood actress who has a hankering to tread the boards.’

‘Then don’t let the clothes speak for you. You need to be comfortable and wear what the character represents to you.’

‘That’s the trouble, I haven’t read the script. It’s just a conversation and if the director likes me, then he will use me.’

‘Okay, then you need to be yourself. I want you to choose something that when you wear it you feel like your most fabulous self.’

Rose stood in her dressing room and looked at the hangers and the colours hanging off them. Finally she found what she was looking for. ‘The grey silk Issa dress?’ she asked.

‘Perfect,’ said Sophie. ‘Wear it with your black Prada heels and those tights I sent you, the two-tone ones from Chanel.
Oui
?’

‘
Oui. Merci
, Sophie,’ said Rose.

She hung up the phone. As she slipped on the dress, the silk floated down around her and she tried to stay calm. Auditioning was good for her, she reminded herself. Keeps you fresh, on your toes.

As she was leaving, Max crossed her mind but then she pushed the memory of him away. She no longer received messages from Lauren or Randy about him, so she figured he had got over her. I hope he’s kept the house clean, she thought as she ran to the car waiting for her.

The audition was at the director’s home in the West Village. Rose had Lauren send over his bio and press clippings. He was the wunderkind of Broadway; everything he touched turned to gold. Rose hoped he would at least consider her, as he was notorious for ending meetings after five minutes.

As the car pulled up, Rose checked her sheer lipstick in the silver mirror in her handbag. ‘That’s as good as it gets,’ she said to herself as she alighted from the car and walked up the steps to the brownstone.

Ringing the bell, a man came to open it. ‘Nick?’ she asked smiling. ‘No, I’m Jake, his boyfriend. Come in.’

He led Rose through the hallway down to the lounge at the end of the house. Books were piled everywhere. They lined the hallway as though a well-read hoarder was in residence. Rose tried not to trip on a pile of what looked to be photography and art books as she made her way down the tight space. Walking into the kitchen, she found the director, Nick, feeding a little Chinese toddler in a high chair. ‘Hello, I’m Nick and this is Ava. I would shake your hand but it’s covered in pineapple juice,’ said the balding, thin man, wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a smile.

‘Hello, I’m Rose. Hi, Ava,’ said Rose, bending down to the divine child in front of her.

The child held out her sticky hands to be picked up by Rose.

‘No, honey, the lady is wearing a nice dress. She doesn’t want juice all over it.’

‘It’s fine, nothing a bit of dry cleaning can’t fix,’ Rose said.

She unbuckled the child and picked her up. The child leant her head against Rose’s shoulder and played with the silver hoop earrings Rose had put on at the last minute.

Nick laughed. ‘Well, good for you. You must have kids then?’ he said as he cleaned up in the kitchen.

‘No,’ she said, untangling the child’s fingers from her hair. ‘I don’t, I would have liked to but I’m afraid that ship has sailed.’

‘Never say never. Who knew Jake and I would be fathers but we are and it’s the best thing we ever did,’ Nick said as he walked over to Rose and Ava. ‘I will get Jake to take her so we can talk.’

He tried to extract Ava from Rose’s arms, but Ava would have none of it. Instead she let out a giant roar and buried her head into Rose’s neck.

‘Oh, dear. I swear I haven’t touched any child attraction spray,’ laughed Rose.

‘Then I guess Ava will come to the meeting. Would you like that, Ava? You stay with Rose and come and talk to Daddy in his study?’

Nick walked down the hallway and Rose carried Ava behind. ‘Excuse all the books. We’ve bought the place next door and are renovating, building a library, so they stay here till it’s finished.’

‘Oh, that explains it. I thought you had a supremely educated squatter living here,’ she said.

Nick laughed uproariously. ‘Touché! Rose is funny, Ava.’

Ava hung onto Rose and settled in her lap when they sat in the front room, looking over the street.

‘I’m happy to meet you today. I read a lot about your work and the playwright’s work, it seems fascinating.’

Nick looked her in the eye. ‘Why the theatre, Rose? There’s no money in it, eight shows a week, crappy dressing room and at best, a Tony award which nobody gives a shit about in LA. So why?’

Rose took a breath and with the comfort of Ava’s little body on her lap, she spoke from the heart. ‘I’ve spent a long time running away from living, if that makes sense. I’ve immersed myself in working in film after film so I didn’t have to feel anything or pursue anything. Theatre does not allow that kind of indulgence. I want to feel again, to be nervous, like now, to not know what’s going to happen next. I want to hone my craft and work with brilliant people who understand what it is to work to get something right. Theatre is alive, it breathes and has moods and good nights and bad nights, it is without vanity and it exists to entertain. I want to experience that again.’

Nick looked at her for a long time and then spoke. ‘You’re not right for this play I’m about to stage.’

Rose felt forlorn. Rejected by Max, rejected by theatre, she had not made an impact on anyone but Ava so it seemed. ‘Well, thank you for seeing me anyway. It was nice to meet you and Ava,’ she said, looking down.

‘Just because you’re not right for this one doesn’t mean you’re not right for other plays,’ he said as he rifled through some papers on the desk behind him.

Please, not the ‘buck up’ speech from the director, it’s too shameful, she thought to herself as she tried to stand, but Ava sat like stone on her lap.

Nick turned around. ‘Where are you going?’ he asked, puzzled.

‘Well, I should go, if I’m not right,’ she said, trying not to let herself sound sulky.

‘No, you’re not right for this one, but I’m also directing a revival of
Private Lives
by Noël Coward and I think you would make the perfect Amanda. I’ve cast the other roles but have been on the hunt for an Amanda. When I got the call from your agent saying you were looking for work in New York, I thought I would see you. Interested?’

Rose sat down again.

She was elated as she left Nick’s house. They had spent several hours discussing Coward and his work, among other things, and she felt like she had just received her first ever paid acting job. As her car headed home, Rose rang her mother with the good news. Since she had flown to London and had reconnected with her parents again, she had spoken to her mother almost every day, connecting and talking about their lives. Her mother was so proud of her.

‘I loved seeing you in the plays at school,’ her mother said.

‘Does that mean you’ll come and see me on Broadway?’ asked Rose, expecting the usual excuses as she walked towards home.

‘You know, we just might,’ said Wendy.

Rose laughed with joy and hung up.

Rounding the corner to her house, she was surprised to see some small boys sitting on her steps.