Chapter 12

It was two days later, ten am, and Cal, James and I were in the arrivals hall at LAX waiting for the imminent arrival of Miss Charlotte Hudson, actress.

The arrivals board told us that there was a one-hour delay on the arrival of the Delta flight from London.

“Coffee?” James asked.

“And doughnuts?” Cal replied.

“If you want donuts, then they shall be procured” James answered her.

James had just informed us, on the drive to the airport, that we were booked to fly to Chicago on Monday, and stay until Friday evening at the Hyatt, Chicago South, which was close to the University, returning to Los Angeles that night.

I’d thanked him, and asked how he wanted paying, he’d told me not to worry about it, he’d bill the costs to my company in the USA, as he had done with the rest of our expenses so far, as professional fees.

We found a coffee shop that did fresh doughnuts, or donuts as they insisted on mis-spelling them and ordered. James and I had black, Cal had a skinny latte, and a ring of fried batter, topped with chocolate and sugar sprinkles, so much for a healthy diet.

We sat and chatted while we drank, and Cal ate. She finished with a chocolate moustache. I beckoned her closer and leaned in, she puckered up for a kiss and I darted my tongue out and licked it off.

“Hey,” she protested, while James and I laughed, “that’s my chocolate.”

“Then you shouldn’t have left it lying about where I could get it then,” I replied, “should you?”

“Lying about?” she protested, “I was actually eating it.”

“No, you weren’t,” I argued, “it was just sat there on your top lip, looking all forlorn and lonely.”

“Well now you need to buy me another one,” she said.

“Has she always been like this?” James asked.

“Well at least these days I’m not in danger of breaking any bones,” I replied.

“What do you mean?” James asked.

“Oh,” Cal interjected, “I think he’s referring to the fact that when we were younger, it seemed that every time we got together, he seemed to end up in hospital with wounds or broken bones.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” I confirmed, “the first time we met, she’d been throwing her stuffed bunny up in the air and it got caught in a tree at the end of her garden.”

“It was a big tree,” Cal added.

“She was sat in a heap at the bottom of the tree crying, so I got all noble, and climbed up to get it. I had to reach out to dislodge it, it fell, and only just beat me down,” I explained, “I think it was broken arm and concussion that time. There have been others since.”

“And yet you still love her,” James said.

“Strangely, I haven’t had any more physical injuries since last year when we stopped being friends,” I replied.

“Because of what happened?” he asked.

“No, because we finally admitted that we were in love.”

“That sounds like a story,” James said.

“Yes,” I agreed, “perhaps one day I’ll write it.”

“How does Charlie fit in?” James asked.

“You remember the four-part TV film I made in Manchester?” I asked.

“Yes, I remember the dodgy agent who tried to sign you up for it, too.”

“Well she and I played brother and sister in that,” I said, “owing to a mix up because of her name, we ended up sharing a hotel suite.”

“Separate beds?” he asked.

“Separate bedrooms,” I answered, “she had some problems with her mother. I put her back in touch with her father, well, my lawyer found him and I rang him, told him the situation, and she’s basically been living with him since.”

“And now it looks like she’ll be coming to live in LA,” he said.

“How will that work with visas?” I asked.

“Because she’s won a BAFTA and a Royal TV society award for her work on that teen show she did, she’s regarded as being noteworthy in her profession, so unless she has a criminal record that won’t be a problem” he said, “and because the part’s that of an English student, they can get away with insisting on a British actor.”

We finished our coffees, paid for them, or at least James did, and walked back to the arrivals hall, just in time to see the automatic doors and a familiar face walk through.

She looked surprised, then smiled as she saw us and her pace quickened. After introducing her to James, they’d spoken on the phone but never actually met before, she and Cal exchanged a hug, then she came to me. We embraced and kissed each other on the cheek.

“What are you two doing here?” she asked, “you’re supposed to be in hiding somewhere.”

“We are, it’s just that somewhere happens to be here,” I replied, “but hiding or not, we weren’t missing out on seeing you.”

“So where are you staying?” she asked.

“Same place as you,” James said.

“Goody,” Cal responded.

“Goody,” I thought, “she’s saying goody.”

In the car on the way back to the hotel, the two girls sat in the back and chatted. In fact, I don’t recall a second of silence on the whole forty-minute drive. At the hotel we gave Charlie our room numbers, and, while she checked in, we went up to my room. Half an hour later there was a soft knock on the door, Cal walked over and opened it and a freshly changed and showered Charlie walked in.

After another round of hugs and kisses, we sat.

“I didn’t realise you two were here,” Charlie said, “the news reports just said that you were believed to be somewhere abroad.”

“What did they say about why we’d gone?” I asked.

I’d got some of the story via George from home, but I wanted to hear what was actually being said.

“The news in Dubai said that a fifteen year old film star, David J Barker, and his girlfriend, Calista Warner, were being sought, after disappearing from their homes,” she said, “they reported that Cal had been ill, after suffering a traumatic event while at a summer school abroad in the summer and was being cared for in hospital. That she’d been allowed home leave for Christmas, and that the pair of you had absconded, they actually used that word, when she was due to go back. They interviewed your mothers.”

“I’d have loved to see the one with my Mum,” I said.

“She wasn’t complimentary about the hospital,” Charlie said.

Cal looked thoughtful for a moment.

“I wonder what’s happening with them?” she said.

“I don’t know, we haven’t heard much, I’ll ring Andy tomorrow and find out,” I replied.

We outlined the full story for her.

“That’s absolutely shocking,” Charlie said when we finished, “what are the police doing about it?”

“Nothing as far as we can tell, the same as with the Munich affair,” I told her.

“That’s not shocking, that’s criminal,” Charlie spat, “can’t you do anything about it?”

“We’ve threatened legal action against the hospital, but that’s about all we can do. Problem is, it’s been the Christmas holidays, so everything is moving at a snail’s pace.”

“It was like that when I sued my mother for my own money,” Charlie said, “the courts took ages to give us a date, then it was cancelled, then her side wanted an adjournment. I only got a preliminary hearing just before Christmas.”

“I didn’t know you’d done that,” Cal said.

“I knew most of it,” I said, “but not the details.”

Charlie explained how after, as she put it, I managed to drive the old witch out of her life, her mother had transferred all her earnings to her own account, claiming that all the contracts were with her, not with Charlie, and that she was the one entitled to the money. Charlie was fighting in the courts to get the money back.

We chatted amiably, bringing each other up to date on what had been happening in our lives for a whole hour, then Charlie got a serious look.

“Cal,” she said, “I think you and I need to talk. Alone.”

“Perhaps, I’ll go for a walk,” I said, “maybe check out the girls on Rodeo Drive.”

“No,” Cal said, “you stay put, we’ll go find a coffee shop.”

And then they left. I was alone, and wondering what the hell they were doing, and what they were going to say about me when the got there. What can a fifteen-year-old young man do alone in a Los Angeles hotel bedroom, while the two girls in his life go out and talk about him? Specifically, which one of them is going to step back and let the other have him? And does he get a say in matters?

What this one did was switch on the TV and find something to watch. I remember sitting back home, watching American programmes on TV and thinking how dreadful the quality of them was. I now knew that, in fact, we only got the best ones.

By the time they’d been gone for an hour, I decided that I needed coffee, so I went downstairs to the hotel coffee shop and got myself one.

I sat there at a table by the window, watching people pass by, sipping at the strong dark brew, and contemplating. Which one of them did I want?

I suppose, deep down, like any fifteen-year-old, I wanted them both, and as many others as I could get my grubby hands on, but if I could have only one, which would I choose.

And, if they put me in a position of having to choose, would I choose neither. Obviously, this love business wasn’t simple.