Plain Jane in the Spotlight

who’ll be joining his father in this new opportunity…’

The item ended. Travis sat frozen.

‘He’s in New York,’ he murmured. ‘What time is it there?’

‘Three hours ahead of us,’ Charlene said. ‘He should be in bed by now.’

‘A good time to call him, then. No, wait.’

He began clicking buttons on his cellphone, looking for a message, Charlene thought. But there was nothing.

‘They didn’t say where he was staying,’ she said. ‘So where could you call him? Perhaps someone in his home would know. If you called-’

‘No!’ Travis interrupted her violently. ‘Never.’

Of course he wasn’t going to advertise that his father had ignored him, Charlene thought, blaming herself for thoughtlessness.

Travis named a hotel. ‘He’s always stayed there in the past.’

He dialled a number. Charlene moved quietly away. She had a horrible fear of what was about to happen, and knew he would hate anyone to see it.

But she left her bedroom door open and heard him say, ‘Fine, when he comes in would you give him a message? I’ll give you my home number and my cellphone. Any time will do, night or day.’

He hung up and turned to see her standing in the door.

‘Goodnight,’ he said. ‘You’ve had a long, tiring day.’

His message was plain. He’d spoken often of their closeness and his reliance on her, yet she could not help him now.

Quietly she closed the door.

Twice more during the night she rose and looked out discreetly. He was still there, silent and motionless. Never once did the phone ring.

There could be a simple answer. Amos might have stayed out overnight, or returned late and noted the message for later. The call would come. Surely it must.

Over breakfast she asked for the latest news, not revealing how much she knew.

‘I fell asleep,’ Travis said indifferently. ‘If the phone rang I might not have heard it.’

Her heart was heavy as she saw him off to work. Instinct warned her to fear the worst. She knew of Travis’s feeling of isolation, of being shut out from the heart of the family. He was obsessively aware of his father’s indifference to him, bordering on contempt. Now she saw the reality.

Amos had come to the country where his son lived but hadn’t contacted him, or even told him in advance. When Travis reached out he’d made no response. And Travis had been forced to watch him with brother Darius, the favoured son, as he himself would never be.

But Amos would call. He must. He would probably use the cellphone and contact Travis at the studio. But just in case he dialled the landline she would stay in all day.

Hours went past in silence. In the early afternoon the phone rang and she seized it up.

‘It’s me,’ said Travis’s voice. ‘Have there been any phone calls?’

‘No.’

‘I see. All right. I’ll see you tonight.’

He came home early, questioned her with a look, and shrugged when she shook her head. He settled on the sofa, watching television news, seeking further information about Amos. But there was nothing.

She brought him some coffee. ‘You look tired-’

The phone rang.

Their eyes met, sharing the same brilliant hope. He grabbed the phone.

‘Hello? Father! Good to hear from you. I heard you were over here. Maybe we could meet. I can get a couple of days off to fly to New York-what’s that? Oh, I see. Well, in that case-’

Curse Amos Falcon, she thought wildly. Curse him for daring to hurt Travis.

It broke her heart to see Travis’s face as hope died from it, leaving behind a dismal nothing.

The phone call ended. He stayed sitting on the sofa as though too weary ever to move again.

‘What happened?’ she asked, going to sit beside him.

‘He’s on his way back to Monte Carlo,’ Travis said in a blank voice. ‘He called me from the airport.’

‘Damn him!’

He shrugged. ‘I mean nothing to him. Why should he pretend otherwise? Right, that’s it. Time to be realistic. I think I’ll go out. Don’t wait up!’

‘Can’t I come with you?’

‘No, it won’t be the sort of evening that you’d enjoy.’

‘Hey, stop there! Be careful. If you end up in a nightclub with a floozie it’ll do you more damage than you could cope with.’

‘No women, I promise, just-’

‘Just too much to drink, huh?’

‘Maybe just a little.’

She had a vision of the evening ahead if she left him unprotected. It wouldn’t be like last night when he’d got faintly tipsy before going quietly home with her. This time there would be a little indulgence, then a lot, more and more. The word would go around, people would text and his enemies would be alerted. Suddenly everyone who wanted to damage him would converge.

‘No way,’ she said, taking hold of him. ‘Don’t even think of leaving.’

But he eased away from her.

‘I’m going,’ he said. ‘I know you mean it kindly, but I can’t shelter behind you for ever.’

‘Travis, don’t do this. It’s dangerous.’

‘That’s for me to say. A man’s entitled to behave badly sometimes.’

‘Sure he is. And you behave as badly as you want, but do it here, with me. No witnesses. And if anyone asks if you behaved badly I’ll lie my head off.’

‘But that’s just another way of sheltering behind you. Don’t try to control me, Charlene.’

In despair she stayed where she was on the sofa, leaning forward with her head in her hands. This was what it had come to. She couldn’t really help him at all.

‘Come on, don’t make so much of it,’ he said, sitting beside her. ‘I won’t be long, but maybe it’s time I let go of your apron strings. Hey, are you crying?’

‘No,’ she said huskily.

‘Yes, you are. It’ll be all right, I promise.’

She looked at him, defenceless, tears pouring down her cheeks. ‘Please,’ she choked. ‘Please don’t do this. They’ll be waiting for you. They always are.’

‘Don’t you think that sounds a bit paranoid?’

‘Yes. I am paranoid. Sometimes paranoid is the right thing to be. Please, Travis, don’t go. I’m not trying to control you. I’m trying to stop you losing everything.’

‘I won’t-’

‘You will, you will. Oh, goodness, how can you throw it all away? Please- please-’

She was swamped by a sense of helplessness. His father’s behaviour had had an unnerving effect on Travis, seeming to imbue him with a sense of self-destruction, so that only rebellion would calm his spirit. He would pay a heavy price for it, and she, who’d vowed to protect him, could do nothing. Her weeping became more desperate.

‘Don’t cry,’ he said, brushing his fingers against her cheek. ‘Please, Charlene, don’t cry. I can’t bear it. Look… look I-’ There was a long silence.

She looked up, her eyes meeting his as she raised a tentative hand to touch his face.

‘Don’t go,’ she whispered. ‘Please don’t go.’

‘Charlene, what-?’

‘Don’t go.’

Now her fingertips were touching his mouth, drifting back and forth so that tremors went through him. Suddenly