Divas (12 page)

She lit up another cigarette.

‘You know, ’ Devon said, inhaling, ‘what you were saying about sex . . . I feel like that with Piers. I don’t mind just lying there, but when he wants me to
do
stuff to him – you know – ugh, I really could live without it. I wish he’d go and get that somewhere else, I really do. I keep telling him it’s fine if he wants to.’
She glanced at Lola as she puffed on her Silk Cut. ‘I
have
enjoyed sex before. I’m not completely like you. But with Piers—’ She drew the corners of her mouth down
sharply. ‘So I do understand. You can’t have everything, right?’

Lola nodded. ‘Though I
did
with Jean-Marc, ’ she said sadly. ‘It was perfect. Even if we both got totalled and started messing around because we were off our heads, and
it didn’t work out, we’d just giggle and giggle and fall asleep. I mean, sex just never
mattered
that way.’

Just then, Lola’s phone, sitting on the dressing table, started to buzz. She dashed to see who was calling, and when she saw the number in the display window, she ripped the phone open
eagerly.

‘Hi!’ she said. ‘Yes, it’s me . . . Oh, thank you! That’s great! I’ll be there in twenty minutes . . . Thank you so much!’

She snapped the phone closed and turned to Devon, face shining with excitement.

‘Jean-Marc’s conscious and can have visitors – and his horrible brother won’t be in till lunchtime, apparently! That nurse – Deirdre – rang me to let me
know.’

‘The nurse rang you?’ Devon said, raising her eyebrows. ‘How did she get your number?’

Lola smiled.

‘I wrote it down and gave her twenty quid when you lot were all fussing round the lifts, ’ she said. ‘I asked her to call me when it was safe to visit.’

‘Gosh, Lola, ’ Devon said, gazing at her admiringly. ‘I never knew you were so . . .
enterprising
.’

‘Me neither!’ Lola pulled open the wardrobe door and grabbed the trenchcoat, plus a scarf Devon had lent her which she could use to cover her head. ‘Now, ’ she said,
‘how are we going to smuggle me out of here so the paps don’t follow me? Can I climb over that garden wall Piers was mentioning?’

Deirdre had instructed her to go round the back of the hospital, to the staff entrance. She was waiting there, pink-faced with excitement and she hurried Lola through a door
and into a lift at the back of the building.

‘This is so exciting!’ the nurse gushed. ‘It’s like being in a film or something, smuggling you in. I
know
Jean-Marc is
dying
to see you, he keeps asking
after you, and it’s so romantic, isn’t it! Bringing you two together in secret—’

Lola smiled and agreed, trying to give Deirdre the thrill she wanted, but honestly, she didn’t know
what
she was feeling. She was worried about Jean-Marc, of course, hoping that he
was recovering OK, but she was also furious with him at the scandal he’d dragged her into. Still, she needed money from him, which slightly weakened her righteous anger – God, she was a
seething mass of emotions. Deirdre bustled her down some corridors, tapped on a door and cautiously put her head around it, to make sure that Niels van der Veer hadn’t suddenly
materialised.

The coast was clear. Beaming, she indicated for Lola to go in.

And as soon as Lola saw Jean-Marc, looking pale and wan and pathetically frail in his hospital gown, both arms hooked up to IV drips, all her anger and fear drained away instantly. All she could
think of was how much she loved him, and how she never, ever wanted to see him in this condition again.

‘Hello, darling, ’ he said, managing a smile for her.

‘Jean-Marc!’ Lola breathed in horror. ‘Are you – are you OK?’

Deirdre had told her he was out of danger, but his skin was so grey, his blue eyes so dull. His golden hair seemed faded, limp. He was still handsome – with his bone structure, he could
never fail to be handsome – but he was a shadow of the Jean-Marc Lola had seen on her hen night, so vital and lively that all the girls had been excited by his presence. It was more that he
seemed to have been drained of some vital force, some essential fluid that he needed not just for survival, but to keep his spirits alive.

‘I’m fine, ’ he interrupted. ‘That is, I’m alive. They’ve probably changed all my blood by now!’ He hacked a little laugh. ‘So you’d think I
wouldn’t be addicted to anything any more, wouldn’t you? But it doesn’t work that way, apparently. They’d need to give me a brain transfusion.’

Lola pulled up the chair and sat down. She hadn’t been able to see anything but Jean-Marc when she came in, but now she realised that the side tables were crowded with bouquets of flowers,
huge, expensive ones, each showier than the next.

‘I didn’t bring you anything, ’ she said hopelessly. ‘I’m so sorry . . .’

‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous!’ His smile this time was a little more human. ‘You came! You got a nurse to smuggle you in! Darling, that’s more than enough!’

His fingers twitched as his hand tried to reach for hers. Swiftly, Lola covered his with her own.

‘What
happened?
’ she asked, curling her fingers around his as much as she could without imperiling the catheter in the top of his hand.

‘Oh, God, Lola!’ He heaved a deep sigh. ‘I just wanted to make everyone happy, believe it not. And look how it’s all ended up.’

Lola bit off a question. She sat there, holding his hand, sensing that he needed to keep talking without interruption from her.

‘I treated you so badly, ’ Jean-Marc was saying, his fingers trembling under hers. ‘I didn’t tell you about Patricia and her . . . friends . . . because I knew
you’d leave me if I did. And I didn’t tell you about the drugs, because I knew you’d say I was crazy for trying all the bad stuff.’ He shivered. ‘Even Patricia told me
I was going too far. But the closer it got to the wedding, the worse I got. And I
wanted
to marry you, darling! We were going to be so happy! I still want to marry you, have a couple of
lovely little golden children, like we talked about. But I know I’ve ruined everything.’

He looked as if he were on the verge of tears: his voice was trembling, his eyes moist.

And Lola, squeezing his hand as best she could, realised that for some inexplicable reason, she hadn’t, in these past two days, truly wondered whether she and Jean-Marc would get married
after all, whether their engagement could be salvaged. And, as she explored her feelings now, she realised too that she didn’t actually mind that much. She had loved the idea of marriage: the
ceremony, the publicity, the security, the fiancé with whom she’d never exchanged a cross word, let alone fought, because somehow, nothing had ever been important enough to fight
about.

Now it was all over. The wedding planner had left her several increasingly desperate messages, but Lola hadn’t rung back: she hadn’t had the faintest idea what to say. As soon as she
left here, she would: she’d tell the planner to bill Jean-Marc, who would certainly pay for everything and throw in extra for her trouble, being generous to a fault.

And that would be that.

It was odd how free she suddenly felt.

‘Can you even tell me that you love my brother?’ that obnoxious, bullying Niels had demanded of her yesterday. And she hadn’t been able to say ‘Yes’ – not in
the way Niels had meant. Lola, who had no siblings, and had never wanted any – it was perfect, being the only apple of her father’s eye – knew that she loved Jean-Marc like the
brother she never had. He was a kind of twin, golden like her, beautiful like her, always wanting to cuddle, to stroke each other’s hair, to tell each other how lovely they were, curled up in
a nest of luxury.

No wonder she had never really wanted to have sex with him. Nor he with her.

‘I don’t mind about not getting married, ’ she said. ‘Honestly, I don’t.’

‘Really?’ Jean-Marc looked amazed. ‘I thought you’d be devastated! I mean,
all
women want to get married!’

‘Not if it’s making you do drugs!’ Lola exclaimed. She frowned. ‘
Why
did it make you want to do drugs? I thought we were so happy!’

‘I did too . . . Oh, Lola, I did too. I thought I’d found the perfect woman.’ He smiled painfully at her. ‘You’re so pretty and sweet and we get on so well. I love
you
so
much, darling.’

‘I love you too, ’ she said, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. With the hand not holding Jean-Marc’s, she scrabbled in her coat pocket for a tissue.

‘They’re sending me off to rehab, Lola, ’ Jean-Marc said.

Lola nodded: she’d expected this. Tons of people she knew went to rehab, for all sorts of things. It was very fashionable nowadays.

‘The Priory?’ she asked hopefully, naming a famous one near London.

Jean-Marc shook his head.

‘Niels says I have to go to Desert Springs, in Arizona. He’s being so strict about this, Lola, you cannot believe.’

‘But that’s so far away!’

‘I know! He wants me to be completely isolated. Ugh, I’m dreading it. I mean, London’s full of bad influences, but where isn’t?’

‘Tell me about Patricia, ’ Lola said, looking him firmly in the eyes.

He closed his own. ‘I hate to talk about her, ’ he said faintly. ‘I know you deserve an answer, but I can’t bear to talk about her. It’s all so complicated. I hated
her for what she did to me – I felt so degraded – but I kept on going back. I couldn’t stop. She knew exactly what . . .’ He shivered. ‘Please don’t make me talk
about it. It’s over. I’ll never see her again.’

But his voice wavered on the last two sentences. With horror, Lola realised that Niels van der Veer was right, much as she hated to admit it. Jean-Marc was hooked on Patricia, and the drugs she
provided. It would take more than an overdose and a near-death crisis to make Jean-Marc give her up. He needed to be sent far away for a long time.

‘Jean-Marc, ’ she started, feeling that it would be OK now to broach the subject of money, ‘I need to ask you something – a favour—’

‘Anything!’ he interrupted, his fingers tightening on hers. ‘Anything! After what I’ve put you through, you only have to ask.’

‘All this awful stuff has been happening to me, you won’t
believe
it, ’ she began. ‘Carin’s cut off my trust fund and I need to get to New York,
because—’

‘She’s
cut off your trust fund
?’ Jean-Marc boggled at her. ‘How can she do that?’

‘Oh, it’s all so awful, Jean-Marc!’ The relief of having his sympathy and friendship was so huge Lola felt she might be about to burst into tears again. ‘Apparently
Daddy’s—’

‘
What the fuck is going on here?
’ demanded a harsh voice from the doorway.

Horrified, Lola and Jean-Marc turned their heads towards the sound, and jumped like a pair of naughty children, cowering under the fury of Niels’s stare. She was extra-glad, suddenly, that
she’d never had a big brother. It would be
awful
to have someone like Niels, older than you, bigger than you, bossing you around like this all the time, always convinced that he knew
best.

‘Niels, Lola came to visit me!’ Jean-Marc protested. ‘I wanted her to come! She’s my fiancée!’

‘Not any more she isn’t, ’ Niels said succinctly.

He stepped into the room, and Lola found herself short of breath, as if Niels’s presence were sucking up all the oxygen. She remembered a nature documentary she’d seen once, flipping
channels late-night, coked up, unable to sleep. There’d been a rabbit on it, trapped by a snake. The soft drone of the presenter’s voice had explained how the rabbit was dazed by the
raw power of the snake’s eyes, unable to see its mouth opening, its jaw detaching, about to swallow the rabbit whole . . .

She’d switched channel at that point, unable to watch the poor bunny being eaten. Even then, she’d wondered why it didn’t hop away, run for its life. But now she understood: it
had been paralysed by fear, just as she was now under Niels van der Veer’s piercing grey eyes.

‘She was telling me something really important!’ Jean-Marc continued. ‘You’re interrupting a private conversation!’

Behind Niels were two white-coated men, big and brawny, and in the background Lola could see Deirdre in her bright blue uniform, hovering nervously.

‘How the hell did you get in here?’ Niels demanded, standing over Lola and folding his arms.

‘I sneaked in, ’ she said defiantly, raising her small round chin and staring back at him, doing her absolute best not to be intimidated. ‘I wanted to see how Jean-Marc was
doing. I
do
love him!’ For some reason, it was very important that Niels be aware of this.

‘And I love her!’ Jean-Marc said.

They sounded like two teenagers, Lola thought, silly and puny against the might of a grown-up. And Niels must have thought it too, because he unfolded his arms (again, Lola couldn’t help
noticing the size of them under the superb tailoring) and clapped his hands slowly, one, two, three times, in mocking applause of their pathetic little declaration.

‘Great, ’ he said sarcastically. ‘Fantastic. Really, you two should both go on the stage. Now, if you’ve quite finished the amateur dramatics, I’ll get on with my
business here.’

He nodded at the two men, who came over to Jean-Marc’s bedside. One started checking Jean-Marc’s various drips; the other took his pulse, watching a monitor by the bed as he did
so.

‘What’s going on?’ Lola asked, hearing panic in her voice.

‘We’re taking your
fiancé
away, Princess, ’ Niels said, loading the word ‘fiancé’ with irony. ‘You’ll have to find someone else to
marry.’ He looked at her, a head-to-toe glance that acknowledged her beauty but was simultaneously insulting, like a man sizing up a prostitute in a brothel. ‘You shouldn’t have
much trouble with that. Though it might be hard finding one as rich as Jean-Marc.’

Lola started to exclaim furiously that she had plenty of money of her own, that she didn’t need Jean-Marc’s, but she couldn’t: her tongue was tied by her desperate financial
situation. She stared helplessly, furiously, at him, as the male nurses began to unhook Jean-Marc from the monitor.