Page 40
Dan’s eyes shone with love and approval as she got to her feet. She accepted her award with humility, thanking the director and the cast, and dedicating the award to the many damaged veterans and their families who had suffered so much in the aftermath of war. Dan had insisted that she rehearse an acceptance speech even though she’d been convinced there was no chance of her winning; she was thankful that he had.
As she posed for pictures and fielded reporters’ questions while clutching her Golden Globe to her chest, she realized that the one person she had forgotten to thank was Dan.
Chapter 17
Cannes, 2000
Ordinarily, Dan Jackson loved the Cannes Film Festival. It lacked the mania of Hollywood, and its European focus meant that Dan was able to meet like-minded directors and talk to thoughtful interviewers about his passion for film. The junket was gruelling nonetheless, today alone he’d been interviewed by Jonathon Ross, Entertainment Tonight, the BBC and by a Dutch film crew. He’d had lunch with Sam Mendes to discuss financing on a new project he wanted Dan on board for, and tonight he and Shauna were having dinner with Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon after the screening of Cradle Will Rock, which was in the running for the coveted Palme D’or. His busy schedule was the least of his problems.
His schedule allowed him only one short break. While Shauna was off being interviewed by a French TV show, he had their hotel room to himself. He was planning to make use of the time by taking a quick shower and freshening up.
He stood in the bathroom and regarded himself in the large well-lit mirror, which hid nothing. He was now in his late forties, and no amount of hours on the treadmill in his home gym, or pounding the boardwalk outside their Malibu beachfront mansion could shift the tyre that had accumulated around his middle. His brown hair was peppered with more than a little salt, and his face was lined – or craggy, as he preferred to think of it – with bags sagging under his bloodshot eyes. God, he needed some sleep.
He splashed some of his usual 4711 eau de cologne, the one that Shauna ensured he had a ready supply of. I like to smell you coming, she would joke. He opened his wash bag and took out a vial of tablets. You need to slow down, his doctor had told him. Cut out the fags and the booze, and the nose candy, for Chrissakes – your blood pressure is through the roof. He threw his head back, swallowed the daily dose of tablets to keep his blood pressure down. He wasn’t sure they were working.
He padded from the bathroom to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. They were staying in the Hôtel Barrière Le Majestic, and their suite looked out across the Croisette to the Mediterranean Sea. Not for the first time, Dan contemplated taking a walk down to the shore, taking a swim and never coming back.
That familiar pang of conscience was back again, the knot in his stomach. He pushed down the fear, the sense that life was out of control, and tried to focus instead on getting ready, of finding his socks, his tie … He felt useless without Shauna here and knew that he would be useless without her in his life. Why the hell had he let himself get involved in this dreadful mess?
The phone jangled, and he picked it up, hoping it would be Shauna – knowing that her voice would reassure him, even if only momentarily.
‘Dan Jackson,’ he said.
‘Dan … it’s me.’ It was a woman’s voice, American, with a touch of Latino.
His stomach lurched. ‘I told you not to call me – how did you get them to put you through?’
‘I’m not just a pretty face,’ she snapped. ‘And what else was I supposed to do? You don’t answer your mobile, or take my calls from your office.’ There was no mistaking the anger in the voice. ‘You can’t just erase me from your life, Dan. I won’t let you.’
Dan grimaced and drew his hand across his forehead, wiping away the sweat that was beading on his brow.
‘I’m not trying to dismiss you, but you must understand, I can’t do what you’re asking—’
‘You didn’t say that when you were screwing me. You wanted me then.’
‘Yes … please … I know, but I wasn’t thinking straight.’
‘You bastard, you took what you wanted and now you think you can leave me – and our son – with nothing.’
‘I’ve given you money, more than enough, but I can’t … I won’t be held to ransom by you.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong. You’re going to pay, Dan. Believe me, you’ll pay.’
She hung up, leaving Dan drenched in his own sweat, his heart pounding. At that moment, Shauna entered the room, accompanied by a waft of No.5 and clad in a classic pink-and-black Chanel two-piece. She threw her Hermès Birkin handbag onto the bed and kissed his head. ‘Thank God that’s over! If one more interviewer asks why I turned down Shakespeare in Love, I’ll scream. Gwynnie was the right actress for the role. Pour me a drink, darling.’
It took her a moment to notice that Dan was ashen-faced. ‘Dan – oh, God, what’s wrong?’ She quickly dropped down beside him. ‘Should I call a doctor?’
‘No fucking doctor!’ he snapped. Then he took a deep breath and held his hand up in a gesture of restraint and said more calmly. ‘Really, Shauna, I’m fine. Probably overtired, that’s all.’
‘Are you sure? You look awful.’
‘Charming,’ he laughed mirthlessly.
‘Dan, you know what I mean. Something isn’t right.’
It took a supreme effort, but Dan did his best to smile and reassure her. ‘Darling, I’m perfectly well. Cannes always does this to me – too much cordon bleu and fine brandy. Please don’t fuss.’ He made a show of looking at his Patek Phillippe watch, a present from Shauna for their tenth wedding anniversary. ‘You’d better take a soak; we’ve got another long night ahead of us.’
‘Look, we can cancel. It’s more important that you rest – you know what the doctor said about your blood pressure.’
