To the Moon and Back

Chapter 16




An hour had passed. Possibly the most incredible hour of his life. When he said, ‘OK, there’s something I have to tell you,’ Tony saw a flash of fear.

‘What?’

‘I probably should have said this before. But it’s all right, it’s workable.’

Martha had gone very still. ‘Tell me.’

‘I don’t live here in London. My home’s in Los Angeles.’

She sank back against the pillows. ‘Oh. That’s a long way away.’

‘But we can sort something out. I want to keep on seeing you. I hope you want to keep seeing me. I can come over every few weeks. I don’t know, maybe you could come out and stay. There’s plenty to paint, believe me.’

‘You work over there?’ She searched his face. ‘What do you do?’

‘I’m an actor.’

Her eyebrows went up. ‘Really? Any good?’

‘Pretty good, yes.’

‘Successful?’

‘Yes. Yes, I am.’

Martha thought for a moment then said slowly, ‘Are you famous?’

He nodded.

She broke into a huge smile. ‘Well, that explains it, then! While we were on our way back here, I saw a couple of people looking at you. But more than just a normal look, you know? More interested. I thought it was because you were so attractive. But it wasn’t, was it? They recognized you. Oh my God, what’s your name?’

‘Tony Weston.’

‘I’ve heard that name!’ Martha clapped a hand over her mouth. ‘You are famous! You were in that film about the two brothers… ooh, what was it called… Mr and Mr Black!’

‘That’s right.’

‘I heard all about it on the radio! They said you were very good.’

Tony smiled. ‘They were right.’

‘I always mean to go to the cinema, then I never get round to it. You must think I’m completely hopeless. I should have known who you were!’

‘Don’t be daft.’

‘Oh God!’ This time she clutched the side of her head. ‘I just had sex with a film star!’

‘Fantastic sex,’ Tony corrected.

‘Fantastic sex. Absolutely. God, sorry, I’ve come over all unnecessary now. This is just bizarre.’

‘Can I tell you something?’ He traced the tips of his fingers along her collarbone. ‘It’s the most miraculous thing that’s happened to me in years.’

Martha nodded, her eyes filling up. She whispered, ‘Me too. When do you go back to the States?’

‘The day after tomorrow. You could come with me.’ But she was already shaking her head.

‘I can’t. But thank you. Oh my word, is that the time? I didn’t realize it was so late.’ Pulling on a white cotton robe, she said, ‘I have to be somewhere by six. And you haven’t had a proper look yet at the other paintings…’

***

‘Oh, wow, look at those. They’re so… happy!’ Home from work, Ellie encountered the four paintings lined up on the sofa. She pointed to the Primrose Hill picture. ‘That’s the one you told me about last night. Did she give you all of these?’

Tony shook his head. ‘I paid for them. We went back to her house and she showed me her work. I bought the other three.’ He kept the rest to himself. Much as he longed to talk about Martha, he was Ellie’s father-in-law; there was no way he could tell her what else he’d done this afternoon.

‘You should buy paintings more often.’ Ellie was smiling at him. ‘It suits you.’

His soul was singing. If only she knew. ‘I might do that.’

***

The next morning was taken up with meetings, followed by lunch in Soho with an old actor friend he couldn’t let down. By two thirty, as the taxi took him to Tufnell Park, Tony’s heart was flick-flacking away in his chest. Fifty-five years old, and he felt like a teenager on a first date.

This was unbelievable. It had never occurred to him that something like this could happen. At his age too. Love—or something perilously close to it—at first sight. Martha, Martha, just saying her name in his head gave him a thrill.

They reached Lanacre Road and he paid off the cab. Turned to look at the topaz-yellow front door. Martha. He’d barely been able to sleep last night for thinking about her and reliving every second of yesterday. He raised his hand and rang the bell. What would she be wearing today? It would be their last time together for weeks; would she let him spend the night here? If she did, he’d have to phone Ellie and come up with some plausible fib as to why he wasn’t coming home.

The door opened and there was Martha, wearing a violet shift dress and looking… completely different. As if seeing him on her doorstep was the very last thing she wanted. Even her head was shaking fractionally from side to side as she said, ‘Oh hello, is this about the paintings? I’m afraid it’s a bit of an awkward time.’

‘Who is it, Martha?’ Behind her, another woman came into view. Older, Afro-Caribbean, taller, and thinner, with gray hair and sensible shoes. Over Martha’s shoulder she surveyed him with an unwavering, miss-nothing gaze.

‘Nobody, just someone interested in my work…’

What’s going on?

‘My name’s Tony.’ He held out his hand to Martha and shook it, then reached past her and said pleasantly, ‘Hello there. Tony Weston.’

Forced to shake his hand, the gray-haired woman nodded briefly in return. She had a tight bony grip and a habit of blinking slowly like an owl.

‘Could I come in? I’ve sent my taxi away now.’

Martha swallowed and said fearfully, ‘OK, just for five minutes.’ The prospect clearly didn’t thrill her but she stepped aside. Tony followed the older woman into the living room.

‘I’ll bring the pictures down.’ Hurrying upstairs, Martha said, ‘Eunice, why don’t you make Mr Weston a cup of tea?’

Eunice raised an eyebrow. ‘Are we a café now?’

‘It’s fine, don’t worry.’ So much for charming her into submission. Yet again Tony smiled and failed to get a response. ‘I’m a great fan of Mrs Daines’s work. Are you a friend of hers?’ Because if she was, he was going to have to reassess Martha’s taste in friends.

‘Sister-in-law.’

‘Oh.’ Did that mean Eunice was the ex-husband’s sister? Or was she married to Martha’s brother? And could he ask her that? No, of course he couldn’t.

In less than thirty seconds Martha was back with an armful of mounted prints. One thing was for sure, she was like a cat on a hotplate. Every minute he was here under this roof was a minute too long. As soon as the paintings were spread out on the table, she said, ‘There you are, that’s all of them. Which one would you like?’

The tension in the room was palpable, like an overdose of air freshener. Realizing he was in a no-win situation, Tony put her out of her misery and pointed. ‘I’ll have that one.’

‘Excellent.’ Martha managed a smile and exhaled with relief. ‘Good choice.’

And that was it. Within four minutes of ringing the front doorbell, he found himself being propelled back out onto the pavement. With a painting under his arm and his plans for the rest of the day well and truly scuppered. On his way out he said in desperation, ‘Could I have your number, in case I wanted to buy another one?’

Eunice replied crisply, ‘She doesn’t hand out her telephone number to strangers. Do you, Martha?’

Martha swallowed. ‘If you want to contact me about my work, my email address is on my website.’

‘Fine, I’ll do that then.’ Pointedly Tony said, ‘I’m going to be out of the country for the next couple of weeks, but I’ll be back at the beginning of July.’

‘OK. Well, it’s been nice to meet you, Mr Weston.’ Clearly desperate to close the door, Martha said, ‘Enjoy your painting. Goodbye.’

‘Or I could give you my number?’ It was a last-ditch attempt; he so badly needed to speak to her before he left.

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Eunice coolly intervened. ‘Why would she want to phone you?’

Because we spent yesterday afternoon in bed together, you bloody interfering old witch. And I’m in love with her.

But of course Tony didn’t say this out loud.