Читать книгу Mirror, Mirror - Paula Byrne - Страница 22

Mo vanished out of our lives almost overnight, and a new man appeared in the House of Mirrors. He was a tall, blond, blue-eyed Englishman, who loved Shakespeare, the theatre, and my mother. And I think he loved me. I know that I adored him. He listened intently when I asked him a question, and he spoke to me as if I were a grown-up. He was a classically trained actor, with the most beautiful cut-glass English accent. Of all my mother’s lovers, he was the man I most wanted to be my father. His name was Lacy.

He gave me my first Shakespeare play, told me to read it slowly, and not to be frightened by the difficult words, but to keep a dictionary beside me. It was the start of a life-long love affair. The play was A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and I was enthralled. There was a funny man called Bottom, and he was transformed into a donkey, and the Queen of the Fairies fell in love with him. She reminded me of my mother. The queen loved the changeling child, just as my mother loved only me, and said I belonged to no one else, not even Papi.

There was another Shakespeare queen, too, who was a bad queen. I told Mother all about her. She snorted: ‘Lady Macbeth. Peculiar idea of hospitality!’

I had displeased Mother. I didn’t know then that an adult could feel jealous of a child. She didn’t like Lacy giving me so much attention. It was she who had insisted that the studio find her a new leading man, and they brought him over from England, especially for Mother. Mother wanted my undivided attention. When she was angry, she never raised her voice, she simply pretended that I didn’t exist, or gave me ‘the freeze’ – that look of hers that was as cold as Siberia. Her mouth full of lemons.

In the morning, she left for the studio without me. For once, I could lie in bed. I remember waking to an odd sound, a low shuddering sound. I looked at the mirrored closet doors … they were rattling. The next thing I knew, the new maid ran in and grabbed me. She was gibbering in Spanish and I just about made out, ‘the door frame … is the safest place’. The earth was moving, and I was excited and terrified in equal measure. As we headed down the staircase, it began moving up towards us, and the huge chandelier in the hall was shaking and jingling ominously. We just about made it to the huge oak front door, as the chandelier crashed behind us. Then all was silent.

Mother had no way of knowing we were safe. All the phone lines were down. Luckily, she had not even left her dressing room at the moment that the first tremors began. Lacy rushed to find her, shouting that at least they could die together. Mother was horrified. She pushed him out of the way and ran to find a phone.

On the way, she met another famous actress; she never would tell me her name.

‘Joan, why are you running?’

‘My child. I’ve left her at home. I need to reach her.’

‘It will be fine. Don’t worry, my children are at home, and I’m not worried.’

‘Yes,’ my mother cried, ‘but your children are adopted!’

My memory is hazy about our reunion. How did Mother get to me? The phone lines were down, and people were terrified of the aftershock and hid under tables and door frames. All was quiet. I guess I’ve seen so many film sets that the sight of Hollywood diminished to rubble didn’t seem so peculiar. I always had a problem distinguishing between appearance and reality, and who could blame me?

Find me she did. Our maid took me to her church, which was still standing, though its windows had been blown out. Long Beach was levelled, the House of Mirrors was a mountain of smashed glass, and so we moved into the Beverly Wilshire Hotel for the night. Mother and I lay together in the king-size bed, waiting for the aftershocks, Mother muttering, ‘There are no earthquakes in Germany.’ After running to stand under the door frame three times, we decided to get some sleep. Mother told me about Lacy’s impertinence, reassuring me that she would only ever want to die together with me. I was expected to show my gratitude for the honour of dying with her, but all I could really think about were the delicious black and white ice cream sodas at the hotel’s drugstore fountain.

Our suite at the Beverly Wilshire was so elegant. In the main room, greeting our arrival, was an enormous bunch of white roses and lilies, and a huge bowl of fruit. Mother hated all fruit except for apples. She took a red apple from the bowl and bit into its crisp flesh, and a dribble of apple juice trickled down her scarlet lips.