Tress was so engrossed, she almost overlooked that Odette was even paler now.
‘A lady called Nancy. Nancy Jenkins.’
Rex and Calvin, sitting on either side of her and Odette, both turned to see what was happening as Tress gasped, chuckled and exclaimed, ‘No way!’
Odette chided them both with, ‘Back to your conversations, boys, nothing to see here,’ and when they obliged, she leaned closer to Tress, so only she could hear. ‘You know her?’
Tress heard the tremor in Odette’s voice and guessed that Nancy must mean a lot to her. Not surprising, really. Nancy was the kind of friend that no one would want to lose touch with. Another thought cut right across that one – why had Nancy never mentioned that she knew Odette? She didn’t have time to ponder that because Odette was waiting for an answer.
‘Yes! Odette, Nancy is my next-door neighbour. More than that, she’s like my surrogate mum, the person who takes care of Buddy and me like we’re her own. In fact, that’s who is babysitting him right now. That’s incredible! What a small world. Did you say you were there tonight?’
‘Yes. Right before we came here,’ Odette nodded, almost robotically, a strange, faraway look in her eyes. Definitely tired. Poor woman. Hopefully this news would cheer her up.
‘Oh, this is just too funny. Nancy wasn’t at home because she was in my house, helping with Buddy while I was getting ready to come out.’ Tress pulled her phone out of her bag. ‘Let me call her right now and tell her you’re looking for her. Wow, Odette Devine for Nancy Jenkins,’ Tress joked.
‘No,’ Odette interrupted her urgently.
Tress froze, shocked at the vehemence in Odette’s retort. Damn, there was definitely a story here. Something must have happened between these two. Tress was sure it was nothing that couldn’t be fixed, though. Nancy was the most lovely and loyal friend a woman could have. Yes, she was fond of saying she bore a grudge until the end of time, but Tress didn’t always believe that. There was a forgiving heart in there too. Just as long as the person in question hadn’t committed some terrible betrayal of Nancy or hurt someone she loved. ‘You don’t want me to call her? I’m sure she’d love to hear from you,’ Tress assured Odette.
‘No!’ A pause. ‘I mean, yes. Call her, please. But don’t say it’s Odette Devine who wants to speak to her. Tell her it’s Olive Docherty. She’ll understand.’
Tress was just about to make the call, when, on the other side of Odette, her manager, Calvin, stood up and commanded everyone’s attention, before launching into a gushing tribute to Odette and her career, going back decades and recounting a dozen hilarious anecdotes while the waitstaff served their starters. He gestured to the table to eat while he continued to speak. When he offered a toast to his friend and client at the end, Tress picked up her phone again, but was cut off for a second time, when Calvin passed the torch to the head of the studio, who waxed on for another twenty minutes, right through the arrival of the main courses.
To her surprise, Rex stood up next and spoke of his adoration for the woman who had played his mother for two years. ‘Odette, it has been the honour of my career and I hope you know that I will be here for you always. We love you.’
As he raised his glass for everyone to follow, Odette blew him a kiss and Tress felt her heart swell. When he sat back down, Tress felt his hand on her thigh under the table and wondered if the flush she could feel rising up her neck was visible to everyone in the room, especially Calvin, who had just brushed right behind them on the way to the loo. She tried to distract herself by picking up the phone with the intention of finally calling Nancy, but was thwarted again when Elliot, the producer of Odette’s documentary, stood up.
He was on a little raised stage that Tress hadn’t even noticed in the corner of the room and cleared his throat as a projector screen came down from the ceiling and filled the wall behind him. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, as you know, I have been following the life of Odette for quite some time now. When I pitched my idea for this documentary to the studio, I told them that it wasgoing to be the chronicle of a star and the kind of story that would show who Odette Devine really is. I think I’ve achieved that. But I’m fairly sure that the story I’m about to tell isn’t the one that you expected. The programme isn’t finished yet, in fact we were still shooting today as the curtain fell on Odette’s career. But for the last few days, and the last couple of hours, we’ve been working in the editing suite, and we’ve put together a little preview. I’d like to show it to you now.’
He paused, stared straight at Odette, and went on to speak in a tone that seemed incongruous to the rest of the adulation that had been heaped on Odette tonight.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, this is The Real Odette Devine. Or should I say… The Real Olive Docherty.’
The lights dimmed. The room went quiet. And beside her, Tress was sure that she heard Odette whisper a strangled, ‘Noooooo.’
27
NOAH
Over home-made chilli, rice and roasted vegetables, Noah had spilled the story of his day to his mum, who had managed to let him get to the very end without passing judgement, which he knew must be killing her. Gilda had made her feelings about Anya very clear after the accident. In the months that Anya was healing at home, she’d told Noah that she’d support whatever choice he made, whether to try to find a way to repair their marriage or not. However, as soon as he’d confessed that he didn’t see any way back, she’d almost combusted with relief and thanked the gods for helping him see sense. ‘You’re too big-hearted, Noah Clark. I’ve no idea where you get that from, but it’ll be the end of you if you’re not careful.’
Noah knew exactly where he got it from. Despite her latent fury at her daughter-in-law for breaking her son’s heart, and her own sense of betrayal that Anya, someone she’d treated as one of her own for the twenty years she’d been part of the family, had caused devastation to them all, his mum had never lost her compassion. Anya’s own parents lived in the USA, and had only been able to visit for a couple of weeks after the accident, so Gilda had continued to take care of their daughter, prepare herfood, help her shower, talk to her at any time of the day or night. She said she was doing it for Anya’s mother, just as she would expect Anya’s mum to step up if the roles were reversed, but Noah knew that wasn’t the whole truth. She’d done it for him, to help with the load, to support him at the lowest point of his life. She was exactly the kind of parent that he hoped he’d be one day.
Although, not any time soon, given today’s events.
When he’d got to the end of the saga, he’d put down his cutlery, leaned towards her. ‘So what do you think, Mum?’
‘I think you need to get your elbows off the table,’ she’d chided him, and he knew it was to lighten the mood and make him smile, before she went on, ‘Are you sure you want to let Cheska go, son? You’ve been so close over the last few months.’
He couldn’t read her reaction. Was she telling him he was making a mistake or was she testing his resolve?
‘I’m sure, Ma. To be honest, she’s right. I’m never going to be the person she deserves and that’s not fair on her. She should have so much better.’
‘Not better, just different,’ him mum suggested. ‘For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re wrong. Cheska is a gem, but I can’t help thinking that if there was going to be anything serious between you, you’d have realised that before now. And as for Anya…’ Of course, her lips pursed when she said her name. He had a feeling she’d have that reaction to her former daughter-in-law for the rest of her life. ‘I think that we handled ourselves in a way that was right and decent after the accident.’ Remarkably sage and magnanimous, he decided, until she went on, ‘But I’m glad you closed down any suggestion of letting her back into our lives because I never want to see that woman again for as long as I’m breathing on this earth. The thought of her makes me want to throw this pitta bread at the wall. And why haven’t you eaten any of it? You’d better not be avoiding carbs again, because I’ve told you that wreaks havoc with your bowels.’
He’d decided not to remind her right at that moment that he was a trained medical professional who was well informed as to the impact that his nutritional intake had on his body. He’d got up, put his plate in the dishwasher, and then kissed the top of her head.
‘Thanks, Ma. I love you, you know?’
