Page 7 of The Lavender Bride

6

Rex Trent was seen out with an unknown lady at Romanoff’s on Friday night. The pretty brunette seemed to be having the time of her life as she danced with the Hollywood heart-throb.

LOUELLA PARSONS, LOS ANGELES EXAMINER , 12 DECEMBER 1951

The week that follows is a whirlwind. Rex sends me a dozen red roses on Saturday, with a card that reads:

To beautiful Audrey, I’m counting the minutes until I see you again, Rex x.

I press it against my chest and waltz around my tiny living room. He thinks I’m beautiful! He can’t wait to see me again!

I write to Esther telling her all about the date and what a marvellous time I had. Esther and Bill go for tea with our parents every other Sunday and I imagine Father’s face turning puce with rage when Esther shares my latest news.

On Monday morning, Ginny shows me the snippet from Louella Parsons’s gossip column about our date. It seems utterly unbelievable that I’ve been referred to as ‘the pretty brunette’ by the most notorious gossip columnist in Hollywood. I snip the article out of the newspaper to keep.

On Tuesday, Rex telephones and asks me if I’d like to have dinner with him at Villa Nova on Thursday. I feel like I’m floating on cloud nine as I say, ‘Yes.’

When I see Rita, I tell her all that’s happened and she smiles proudly and says, ‘Attagirl!’ I count the hours until our date on Thursday evening. Ginny’s a little taller than me but the same dress size and she lends me a dark-green evening frock for the occasion. When Rex turns up at my door on Thursday, I feel like my heart will burst.

There’s a photographer waiting outside the restaurant. Did he know we were coming or, as it’s a popular spot for movie stars, does he wait outside hoping someone famous will show up? Rex is all smiles. We pose underneath the awning. Rex puts his arm around me and I take the opportunity to lean into him, smelling the woody scent of his cologne. The flash is blinding, leaving me blinking as we go inside.

We’re shown to one of the dimly lit, red, leather booths. Villa Nova is delightful and nowhere near as intimidating as Romanoff’s. I drink Cinzano, eat chicken Milanese and feel as glamorous as Ava Gardner. Rex is utterly charming. While I’m with him, all my doubts and anxieties fade. I feel special. I love hearing him talk about the realities of filming. It’s a glimpse behind the magic curtain and although he tells me it’s a lot of hard work with early calls and late finishes, it still sounds like the best job in the world. I ask how he relaxes at the end of a long day at the studio and he says he likes to fix cars (he’s got three including the Buick he picks me up in) or surf. ‘I feel most alive on my surfboard,’ he says with a great beaming smile. ‘It’s the only time I feel really free.’

I’m reminded of what he said about Italy at Romanoff’s. I’m more relaxed this evening and feel confident enough to probe a little. ‘Why don’t you feel free the rest of the time?’

His face closes down. ‘Too many people have an opinion on who I should be. It’s exhausting.’

I’m itching to ask more but it’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk about it. I let the conversation drift to our plans for Christmas. He’s going back to Illinois for the holidays and I explain that Rita’s invited me to spend the day with her family. We talk about Christmases growing up and he’s surprised when I explain that during the war, presents were either second-hand or homemade. The affection is clear in his voice when he talks about his parents and his younger sister, Edie.

The only dampener on an otherwise perfect evening is when we’re leaving. A middle-aged man with thinning, grey hair stands up from one of the barstools, barring our way. ‘Rex Trent,’ he says in a loud, southern drawl. ‘My daughter loves your movies.’

Rex doesn’t reply. I glance up at him. His face is closed down, his jaw tense.

‘Can I have an autograph?’ The man picks up a paper napkin and pats his suit pockets looking for a pen. ‘It’d mean the world to her.’

‘No.’ Rex pushes past the man. I smile apologetically at the man as I follow.

Out on the pavement, Rex hunches his shoulders. ‘I hate autograph hunters.’

‘I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm,’ I say mildly.

‘That’s easy for you to say. You don’t get this everywhere you go!’ Rex turns to me. His head juts, his hand sweeps out, gesturing to the restaurant. ‘ Can you sign this? Can I have my picture taken with you?’ He draws out the vowel sounds, mimicking the man inside. ‘Can’t I go anywhere without being harassed by idiots like that?’

Unbidden, the memory of my first meeting with Rex slides into my mind. I put his rudeness then down to tiredness, but was I wrong? Was it because he deals every day with intrusions like this? That as a movie star, whose face is known to millions, he can never go unnoticed? Yet as a fan, I know how the slightest brush with stardom can make you feel special.

‘It only happens because people love you,’ I say. His hands twitch as if to push my words away but I keep talking, ‘It must be very annoying and goodness knows, you should be allowed a night off, but I know how much it would have meant to that man’s daughter. She’d have felt like a million dollars to have your autograph.’

Rex’s lips press together. I tense. Is he about to turn that anger on me? Instinctively, I take a step back. Then he ducks his head and rubs the back of his head.

‘Aww, shucks, Audrey. You’ve made me feel like a real heel.’ He reaches into the pocket of his blazer and pulls out the bill he’s just paid. ‘You got a pen?’

I fish the ballpoint I always carry out of my handbag and hand it to him. He rests the paper on one hand, scrawls his signature and then hands it to me. ‘Will you take it to the guy in there? I’ll bring the car round and pick you up.’

With that, he strides away into the car park. His slumped shoulders make me wonder if I’ve done the right thing. Should I have agreed with him? Have I ruined our evening by trying to make him see things differently?

I guess only time will tell. If he never invites me out again then I’ll know I blew it. I hurry back inside, tap the man on the shoulder and hand him the autograph. He looks momentarily stunned.

‘How did you get him to change his mind?’ he asks.

I shrug, a little embarrassed by the question. ‘I explained how much it’d mean to your daughter.’

‘It sure will,’ the man says. ‘Darlene will be thrilled.’

As I dash back outside, I picture Darlene as a slightly chubby bobbysoxer. She’s a lucky girl to have a father who cares so much. I envy her that.

Rex doesn’t speak on the drive back to my flat. Is this my fault? If I’d not spoken out, could the evening have ended differently? I gnaw on my bottom lip as my hands twist in my lap.

Rex is still silent as he escorts me up the stairs to my apartment.

‘Thank you for a lovely evening,’ I say and then, unable to bear the awkwardness any longer, I add, ‘I’m sorry if I spoke out of?—’

‘No, you were right.’ Rex’s smile is the full thousand watts. It makes my heart thud against my chest. ‘It’s pretty neat to give happiness to someone just by signing a piece of paper. You made me realise I’ve got that power.’

Power is a strange way to express it but I’m relieved he’s not angry at what I said. Maybe Rex is one of those rare men who can accept a woman having an opinion.

Rex continues, ‘I see why Dirk thinks you’re a smart cookie.’

‘It’d be nice if he said that to me,’ I say tartly. It still smarts that he’s not revisited the conversation about me doing more at the agency.

Rex laughs softly. ‘You know him better than that!’ There’s a tiny hesitation before he adds, ‘Will you be home Saturday afternoon?’

‘Yes. Why?’

‘I’d like to drop by if that’s okay.’

‘Of course.’ I gaze up at him. Will this be the moment when he kisses me? He leans in and I hold my breath. Please let him kiss me! Please! I close my eyes as my heart beats erratically. His lips brush my cheek. The touch is fleeting, there and then gone. I take a deep breath to avoid sighing with disappointment.

He gives me a shy smile from the top of the stairs. ‘Goodnight, Audrey.’

I close the door behind me and shake my head. Is it me? Have I got something stuck in my teeth? Does my breath smell? I cup my hand over my mouth. I smell the coffee we’ve just drunk but nothing worse. The mirror reveals that my teeth are fine. Ginny’s dress is snug, hugging my breasts and my waist, but most men wouldn’t complain about that. What is it that’s making Rex hold back?

* * *

Louella Parsons’s Saturday column includes the photograph taken outside Villa Nova. She names me as Rex’s date but her claws are out as she wonders why a heart-throb like him is dating his agent’s secretary. The implication that I’m not good enough plucks at my weakest spot. I always feel I’m not good enough. I most definitely do not need Louella ruddy Parsons telling the whole of LA that.

‘How dare she?’ I say to Ginny, acid burning in my stomach.

‘Honey, if you’re going to date Rex, you’ve got to get used to it. The whole world is going to have an opinion on your relationship.’

I brandish the newspaper at Dirk when he arrives at the office. ‘Have you seen this?’

‘Didn’t need to. I’m the one she rang to find out who you are. You can thank me she spelt your name right.’

My mouth drops open. Louella Parsons telephoned him! I had no idea he was on those kind of terms with Hollywood’s Queen of Gossip.

‘You could have got her to write something nicer,’ I shoot back.

‘Forget it, kid.’ Dirk takes his hat off and hangs it on the coat stand. ‘The newspaper’ll be in the trash tomorrow.’

I’m not sure that helps. Do people forget that easily? Dirk clearly believes they do but I’m not so sure. My stomach quivers. I battle every day with feelings of worthlessness. I’d thought going out with Rex and finally living the life I’d dreamed of would banish them but the doubts and insecurities are still there. Being seen out with Rex gives my confidence a heady and wonderful boost. That’s what made me wink at the lady at Romanoff’s but then it faded in the silences and awkwardness of that evening. I felt it again at Villa Nova as we had our photographs taken and this time it stuck around, only disappearing when Rex once again didn’t kiss me.

Is Louella right and I’m fooling myself to think Rex likes me? We’ve only been out twice. Yet he’s sent me roses and asked to see me tomorrow. That counts for something, doesn’t it?

I’m unsettled and distracted all morning. Dirk is more understanding than usual when he finds a rash of typos in an urgent letter to Barney Balaban at Paramount. He tells me to take a long lunch and redo it when I get back.

On Wilshire Blvd, everything is decked out for the festivities. There’s an enormous Christmas tree complete with fairy lights and a star on top. The shop windows are filled with elaborate displays in red and green, silver and gold. The Salvation Army band, their uniforms bright in the winter sunshine, plays carols.

It’s pretty perfect, especially compared to scrimp and save wartime Christmases when I longed for some of the cheer I saw on the silver screen. Yet it doesn’t warm me. I feel like I did as a child with my nose pressed to the glass of Cole Brothers dreaming of owning one of the beautifully dressed dolls and yet knowing I never would.

In Saks, I search for the perfect Christmas gift for Rex. We’ve not talked about exchanging gifts. Is it too soon in our relationship to be considering it? Ginny seems to think so. But Rex has asked to see me tomorrow before he heads home for Christmas. If he arrives with a present and I haven’t got him anything, I’ll be mortified.

But what do you buy a movie star who can afford anything and everything he wants? That question is particularly tricky seeing as my finances are anything but rosy.

For twenty minutes, I wander from one room of the shop to the next. I run my hand over a display of lambswool sweaters and realise I don’t know what size he wears. I pick up a glass vase that I think is beautiful but as I’ve not been to his home, I have no idea what he likes.

I stand completely still in the middle of the store. What do I really know about this man? He’s talked about work and a little about his family. I know he likes to surf and fix cars but I can’t buy him a surfboard or a spanner.

‘Can I help you?’ a shop assistant asks. She’s mid-twenties but with a kind smile. That gives me the courage to confess.

‘I’m trying to find something for the man I’m dating but we’ve not been seeing each other very long and I don’t really know what he likes.’

‘Maybe a scarf or gloves.’ She guides me into a room which is filled with scarves, gloves, belts and ties in all of the colours of the rainbow. ‘Thoughtful but not too personal.’

We settle on a cashmere scarf which is as soft as thistledown and a pair of sky-blue, leather driving gloves to match his Buick. I manage not to wince at the price. I’ll be living on toast for the rest of the month and all the way through January but it’ll be worth it to see Rex happy.

* * *

On Saturday, I’m in a frenzy of anxiety. What on earth possessed me to invite a movie star to my apartment? In all honesty, he invited himself and I said yes but that doesn’t change the fact that he lives in a mansion in the exclusive Bird Streets and I have a flat that even the real estate agent called ‘petite’. I clean and tidy, shove all of my fan magazines under the bed and hide anything else I don’t want him to see in the wardrobe.

Rex’s presents are wrapped and ready. I popped to the grocery store this morning and bought ground coffee because I know he likes it and the fragrance pervades the small space.

I stand by the window and look out into the branches of the tea tree that grows beside the road. Usually, the motion of the leaves in the breeze calms me but it’s not having that effect today.

There’s a knock on the door and I dash to open it. A Christmas tree fills the entirety of the doorway, smelling of resin and forests. I pull back. I can’t afford a tree this big. ‘I think you’ve got the wrong apartment,’ I say. ‘I didn’t order?—’

‘Hey, Audrey, it’s me!’ My eyebrows shoot up as I recognise Rex’s voice. He shifts the tree to one side and his face appears between the branches. He looks delighted, that childlike glee in evidence again. ‘You said you’d not bought a tree yet.’

‘I haven’t but this is—’ I can’t believe he’s done this. It’s incredibly thoughtful but I have no idea how he’s going to get it into my tiny flat.

He gestures to a bag by his feet. ‘I got decorations too.’

I open the door wide and he manoeuvres the enormous tree inside. It’s taller than he is, the top of it brushing the ceiling. I pick up the bag of decorations and put them on the sofa. Together, we shift the furniture aside so the tree can stand in front of the window.

‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘I wanted you to have something nice for Christmas.’ He ducks his head and then darts an uncertain look at me. ‘I wish I could spend it with you.’

I stare at him, suddenly feeling a little breathless. ‘I wish you were too.’ I take a step towards him.

Something flickers across his face that I can’t read. He steps back and snatches up the bag of decorations. ‘I hope you like them. I picked the prettiest ones.’

I blink. Why does he say one thing and then do something completely different? It’s like a game of snakes and ladders. One minute, I’m up, feeling high as a kite because he likes me. The next, I’m tumbling down a snake as he backs off again.

‘I’m sure I will.’ I want to go to him and look at the decorations but he’s holding the bag like a shield in front of his body. Maybe he needs time to relax. ‘Would you like some coffee?’

After I’ve poured us both a cup, I switch the radio on and find a station that’s playing festive songs. Rex hums along with Bing Crosby as we decorate the tree together. We don’t say a lot. I exclaim over the decorations which definitely didn’t come from the Five and Dime store. The ones I’d got look a little tawdry next to them. For the top of the tree, he’s brought a star.

‘Just a jiffy.’ I dash upstairs and snatch up my camera. ‘Righto, now I’m ready.’ I kneel on the rug, ready to capture the moment. The shutter clicks and the flash goes off at the exact second he puts the star on the top of the tree.

‘Did you get it?’

‘I think so.’ I’ll have to develop the film to find out but I’ve a good feeling about it.

I hold onto the camera, hoping he’ll want to take a photograph of me in front of the tree, but he slumps down on my sofa. ‘It looks real pretty. You got any more of that coffee, Audrey?’

I fill his cup but don’t pour another one for me. I’m feeling a little jittery but whether that’s from too much coffee or having Rex here, I can’t tell.

Rex’s arms are stretched along the back of the sofa. Is that an invitation for me to sit beside him? Will his arm come round me? Will this be the moment when we finally kiss?

I perch on the edge of the sofa and glance at him. He takes another sip of coffee. There’s still nearly a foot between us. I shuffle my bottom backwards. His hand is just behind my left shoulder and I lean back against the sofa cushions. My head brushes his hand and he pulls back as if I’ve scalded him. He leaps to his feet. ‘I’ve got something in the car for you.’ He hands me his half-drunk coffee and then he’s gone.

I stare at the cup, my throat feeling dry. What on earth just happened? We’d been having such a lovely time. What am I doing wrong? The guys I’ve been on dates with have been all too keen to canoodle in the cinema or try their luck once they’d driven me home. I’m used to pushing them off at the end of the night. Why isn’t Rex the same?

I shiver and wrap my arms around myself. This isn’t like Freddie. It just can’t be.

The door opens and Rex ambles back into the room. He’s holding a perfectly wrapped box with a tartan bow around it.

‘This is for you. It’s fragile.’ He hands the box over, our fingers briefly brushing as I take it. He looks down, frowning uncertainly. ‘I hope it’s okay. I had to ask the guy in the shop. He said this was the best and you deserve the best.’ He looks so unsure, my heart aches. How incredibly sweet of him.

‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘I’m sure I’ll love it.’

‘I wanted to get you something real nice. It sounded like you didn’t get many gifts when you were growing up.’

My face flames. Oh, no! Did he think my tales of wartime Christmases were a plea for nice presents? That was the last thing I intended.

‘I didn’t but that doesn’t mean… That is, you didn’t have to—’ I break off, my confusion about our relationship stifling me. This feels like dating and yet nothing has been said or done to confirm that. If only I knew how he feels about me. I turn away to put the box on the coffee table and when I straighten, his gaze meets mine. I could look into his beautiful, brown eyes forever.

‘I wanted to.’ He takes my hand, his voice suddenly serious. ‘I like you, Audrey. I want to see more of you after the holidays. Can we do that?’

My mouth goes dry. He is the most confusing man I’ve ever met. Even more than Freddie and that’s saying something! He blows hot and cold and I never know where I am with him but I absolutely know I want to see him again.

‘Yes!’ I throw my arms around him and give him a hug. His body is as solid as a tree trunk. For a long moment he’s entirely stiff and then slowly, as if he’s unsure, his arms come round me to hug me back. It feels wonderful to be held by him. He smells of woody cologne and pine needles.

He pulls away again quickly and we’re left standing in the middle of my brightly patterned rug. He stares over my head at the tree. I look at my feet as my throat constricts. Could I make it any more obvious that I want to be kissed? No other man I’ve ever spent time with would have turned down that invitation.

Except Freddie.

Memories crowd my mind, but I shake my head to try to shift them. This is Rex. It’s not the same. I’ve read a hundred articles about him dating. He must, despite being a film star, be shy.

I cross to the bookcase and pick up his presents. ‘These are for you.’ I hand them to him. ‘They’re not much. I wasn’t sure what to get you.’

‘Aww, that’s real kind of you, Audrey. Thank you.’ He smiles shyly at me and then he seems lost for words. He stares at the rug for a long moment. ‘Enjoy the tree and have a wonderful Christmas.’ He kisses me on the cheek before grabbing his coat from the arm of the sofa. ‘I’ll ring you as soon as I’m back.’

The door slams behind him. I shake my head in confusion and gaze up at the brightly coloured baubles and the silver star on top of the tree. Would he go to all of this trouble if he didn’t like me? No, of course he wouldn’t.

I just need to be patient. Maybe Rex needs more time to get to know me, that must be it. When he gets back after Christmas, we’ll go out again and we’ll kiss and everything will be absolutely fine.

I sink down on the sofa. But what if it doesn’t? What if it’s like Freddie all over again? The memories crowd around me and I can almost smell the smog of that October evening in Sheffield…