Chapter 18: The Diary

HOW much was your husband ransomed for?” I asked Mary, calmly.

“Thirty thousand English pounds. Actually they asked for twenty thousand pounds at first, but when the movie promotion agents based here in London didn’t act fast enough, they raised the ante. The kidnappers sent them Brad’s gold watch, the inscribed one I gave him on our marriage. They telegraph facsimiled a photograph of it to our New York office. So Brad’s father paid the ransom, or rather our London agent did on the Studio’s behalf.”

“And you flew out when Brad didn’t show?”

“No, I didn’t know anything about him even being missing. I was on location shooting a film for the Gold Studios, remember?”

I nodded, remembering. She had told me that part of the story at the outset.

“Whenever I’m in Hollywood, I always go see Brad’s father, Alfred, and his wife Caroline, as soon as I arrive. Bernie Cave would be there naturally, always with his devoted wife Connie while she was alive. They’ve always been good to me and my father in law has always said that he regards me as his daughter. Alfred’s getting on now, Brad was his youngest son, so Alfred is well into his eighties, Uncle Bernie is too, I think, although he’s not really Brad’s natural uncle. I got home from location, to drop off my bags first, but Alfred was already waiting for me at our house in Burbank, he has a key, as we do to their place. He looked really old and frail, as if he knew he would never see his favourite youngest son again. And I suppose I’ve known that since then, too. But I had to come, didn’t I, Edgar? I couldn’t just leave him here alone with no-one to care if he was alive or dead?”

“Of course you had to come,” I said, covering both her hands, which cradled her tea cup, “you loved him, you keep telling me that.”

“I do, don’t I?” she said. “I know that I am ridiculous, because I continually flirt with people. I don’t mean to, but I still don’t stop. I love being loved, I suppose. Yes, I did love him, Edgar, and in a way, I always will ... but, and for some reason I want to tell you something that I have never, ever told anyone ... Brad never loved me, never.”

“Because he loved himself too much?” I managed to suggest.

“Yes, you are right, I guess he did. He was selfish. I guess we actors, we are all narcissistic creatures, cravin’ recognition, adoration ... love.”

“From what I understand, both of you are loved by millions.”

“Not much consolation when you are not loved by that one man who you always regarded as your hero.”

I released her hands and cradled my own cup. “Or one woman, or girl, as she was at the time.” I had my own private grief too, I had just lived with it longer, that’s all.

She reached out her hands for mine and we gripped each other’s hands hard.

The Nippy appeared at our shoulder, “This’ll never do, my ducks, you’ve not even touched your sandwiches yet, and I bet yer teas are cold too. Shall I fetch yer anovver pot?”

“Please,” smiled Mary, “actually, I really am hungry and I think my appetite is coming back.”

“There, maybe you’ll want one of our famous cream teas when you’re done with the sarnies. I mean, wot wiv the war’an’all the cream teas ain’t what they used ter be, but they’re still grand enough.”

“In that case,” Mary laughed, “we need cheering up, so bring us your cream teas as soon as you like!”

“I will,” beamed the Nippy, “ahhh, you know, you two lovely people make such a wonderful and beautiful couple.”

“Oh, we’re not a couple —” I began.

“Edgar!” Mary said, using the same voice a governess might use while correcting a naughty boy who had spoken an untruth and out of turn, “don’t trifle with this pretty girl and her emotions.” She turned to the Nippy, and patted her hand. “He’s a frightful flirt, dear, but honestly he’d run a mile if he was ever successful in turning a pretty head. He only does it when he’s with me, to try and raise my ire, but I am used to his funny little ways. He’s quite harmless, really, but some girls get all huffy about it, not you of course, my dear.”

“No Ma’am, quite,” she said, reaching down and whispering in her ear, but I was able to read her lips as she stared right at me as she did so, “but, never fear, Ma’am, I’ve seen the way he looks at you, he’ll never look at anyone else like that,” She had clearly seen her wedding ring, too. “You bin married long then, ducks?”

“Not long,” Mary whispered, looking straight at me so I could read her lips, “we are still at that awkward ‘getting to know one another’ stage in a marriage. It’s keeping us on our toes, though. I hope it goes on forever.”

The Nippy, squeezed Mary’s hand and nipped off with our cold teapot. There was nothing more I had left to say. I didn’t even ask what the Nippy had whispered to her.

Mary wasn’t finished though. She changed the subject, to my visible relief.

“Enough of our fun for now, we have serious business. I looked through Brad’s diary last night and noted down all the people that he mentioned meeting, although he has identified them only by initials. We already know ‘CC’, Curly Cavenagh, don’t we?”

I had to nod in agreement.