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Swallowing around a painful lump in her throat, Annie advanced with the tray, and cleared a space on the table-top.
Willa said thickly, 'So you managed to tear yourself away from your fiancé at last.'
'I came as soon as I could.' Now wasn't the time to explain about the broken engagement. The most pressing consideration right now was to ascertain the seriousness of Willa's condition. She might need medical help. 'I've brought some tea,' she went on calmly. 'I'm gasping for a cup myself. But I think we could do with a little more light.'
She went to the windows briskly, pulling back both sets of curtains, wincing inwardly as she saw the full extent of the damage. Cosmetic pots and bottles had been hurled in a tantrum and lay where they had fallen, spilling their contents on to the priceless Persian rugs. The heavy peacock-blue satin bed-hangings had been clawed from their fitments and lay in shimmering pools over the floor, the bed. But worst of all was Willa.
Annie had never seen her mother look anything less than perfect and she doubted if anyone else, save Nora, had either. Now her blonde candyfloss hair was lank, her skin blotchy, her brown eyes puffed with weeping. She had lost weight, too, and the loss had aged her.
Petulantly, Willa waved aside the cup of tea Annie offered and whispered huskily, 'I feel as if I'm finished. You might as well know it—everyone else does by now.'
'Is that so?' Annie sipped from her own cup, her oval face impassive. She had heard those particular phrases too often before to be unduly alarmed. She knew she was now expected to state that the star had never looked lovelier, more fascinating, that her last role had revealed greater depth and range than any that had gone before and that her rich vein of talent could only improve.
But when she had left Willa to make her own life she had vowed that never again would she be one of those called upon to spend long wearying hours flattering the star's ego. She wasn't about to go back on that vow now. She would do all she could to help but she wouldn't employ the worthless tactics of flattery.
'You don't care, do you? Willa said spikily when Annie made no reply but calmly helped herself to a slice of Nora's chocolate cake. 'You just don't understand, but then you never did. I don't know how to tell you, but there's more—'
'There always is, isn't there?' Annie interrupted firmly. Another good hour's worth, at least! And it was time she directed a few constructive home-truths towards her mother. Flattery, even if it were sincerely meant, would not help Willa out of the depression which was, Annie hazarded, more genuine than any of those she'd claimed to suffer over the years.
Leaning back in her chair, she said levelly, 'You certainly will be finished if you go on the way you are now. But if that's what you want, then go ahead—shut yourself in here, starve and neglect yourself. That way it won't be long before you've completely lost your looks and the only parts you'll be offered—that's if you're in any state to take them—will be tottery old grandmothers!'
'Bitch!' The empty water glass from the bedside table missed its mark, smashing against the wall several feet away from Annie's head.
Annie swallowed a smile of relief. Willa was back on form! It was the first positive response her mother had made since she had entered this room. And although Annie hated hurting her she knew that Willa had benefited more from those few plain words than she would have done from any amount of pleading or flattery. And, much as she loathed having to do it, she pressed on.
'I don't think the defection of a self-seeking pretty boy is worth the destruction of a legend, do you? But if you think it is,' she continued remorselessly, hating what she was doing yet seeing no other way to shock Willa out of this self-destructive mood, 'then go on exactly as you are. It shouldn't take too much longer to make the damage irreversible. But if you've got half the sense you were born with you'll begin picking up the pieces, starting now. You're no longer young enough to indulge in this kind of tantrum and emerge physically unscathed.'
Annie disregarded the blackly hostile expression of the woman in the bed and began methodically to tidy the room, folding the fallen bed-hangings, picking up the scattered debris of pots and jars, flinging one window open to let in the sweet fresh air. And all the time her heart was aching for the silent woman crouching in the big bed. For all she knew she might have made matters worse, but she had had to try.
Willa had been a poor parent by any standards, but she was Annie's own flesh and blood and she couldn't walk out on her now. Besides, she thought with a trace of defiance that had her lifting her chin, she loved her, metaphorical warts and all!
But her heart was in her mouth as she advised, 'If you put your mind to it you can come out of this room looking a million dollars, and in a few days' time you can throw one of those glitzy parties you're so good at and let everyone know that the great Willa Kennedy doesn't go to pieces because a silly boy got ideas way above his station.'
Trying to disguise the tremor in her hands, she emptied the cup of cooling tea, poured a fresh one and put it into her mother's hands.
'Drink this for a start. I'll go and see what's keeping Nora. She was bringing something to tempt your appetite.'
Outside in the corridor she leaned weakly against the closed door. Willa hadn't uttered a word since she'd called her a bitch and hurled the water glass.
She'd just lain there, her puffy eyes sullen, listening to the kind of things that no one, but no one, had ever dared to say to her before.
But at least she'd accepted the cup of tea. That hadn't been hurled at the wall! Annie hoped that was a good omen.
'How was she?'
Annie hadn't heard Nora's approach and she started visibly, a slender hand flying to her throat.
'I—Heavens, you made me jump!'
'That bad, was it?' Nora remarked drily. 'Was she pleased to see you?'
'Not that you'd notice,' Annie responded ruefully, pushing herself away from the door. 'I told her a few home-truths, tidied up a little, and—'
'Bully for you!' Nora's eyes widened in grudging respect. 'She's made that lovely room into a pigsty and yelled blue murder if I tried to put it right. Think she'll eat this?'
Annie considered the dish Nora held. Succulent fresh prawns lay on a bed of crisp lettuce, and were garnished with tiny cubes of tomato and cucumber, lightly coated with a delicate dressing and accompanied by very thin slices of brown bread and butter. It looked delicious enough to tempt anyone, but…
'Goodness knows. But if she does eat it we'll know the battle's won. Good luck!'
