A Sudden Change of Heart a Sudden Change of Heart

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  “I’m planning to leave Africa,” Philippe announced out of the blue.

  Taken by surprise, and startled by this statement, Natasha exclaimed, “Why, Dad? I thought you enjoyed working there.”

  “I have enjoyed it and I’ve done some good work there, but I want to get out now. I’m tired, Nattie. Anyway, I want to be near you, able to see you more frequently. Would you like that?” he asked, and was suddenly filled with trepidation. He had always believed she felt the same way he did, that she loved him in return, and now he hoped he had been right in this assumption.

  When she did not immediately respond, he asked, “Well, how would you feel if I were around more?”

  “I’d like it, I really would,” Natasha said, meaning this. “And I think Mom would let me see you more often, wouldn’t she?”

  “I’m sure of it, Natasha. Your mother is angry with me, not you, and if you ask her, then I know she’ll agree.”

  “Why is she angry with you, Dad?” Natasha asked, voicing a question that had nagged at the back of her mind for the last couple of years.

  “She thinks I let her down, I suppose that’s it.”

  “Did you?” the fourteen-year-old asked, gazing at him, her eyes questioning.

  Philippe sighed. “We let each other down in so many ways, and you suffered as a result.” He glanced at her and smiled ruefully. “It’s children who always suffer in a divorce.”

  “I guess.” Natasha hesitated, and then blurted out, “Is it true what she says? About other women?”

  “No, of course not. But Claire was always suspicious of me, especially when I went away to do research.”

  “But why, Dad? I don’t understand why she didn’t trust you.”

  He shook his head and a sigh escaped again. “I don’t know, Nat. But she believed it, she truly did, and she wasn’t pretending to be angry. It was genuine, is genuine.” They walked on in silence for a few minutes, and then Philippe volunteered, “I have a feeling—” He paused, wondering if he should continue.

  “Go on, Dad, what feeling do you have?”

  “I have a feeling your mother has an enormous and deep-rooted distrust of men for some reason. It seems to me that it’s very well ingrained in her, and I think I fell victim to this in some way. I’m not saying I wasn’t also at fault in the disintegration of our marriage, but I was often accused unfairly of things I didn’t do.”

  Natasha nodded quickly. “I know you’re not the villain Mom makes you out to be. Actually—” She stopped abruptly, looked up at him, and suddenly grinned. “I think Mom’s still in love with you, Dad.”

  Momentarily Philippe was startled, and he exclaimed, “I doubt it, Nattie! That’s your romantic imagination running away with you.”

  “No, it isn’t, Dad. I just feel she is.” Natasha shrugged, and made a moue. “You think it’s wishful thinking on my part, but I don’t think it is.”

  He was silent, and she hurried on. “That’s why Mom’s so angry with you … that you’re not here, living with us. I know she still loves you, Dad.”

  “Well, in a way, I still love her.”

  “That’s already something. Don’t you think you should try to get back together?”

  Philippe came to a sudden standstill, took hold of his daughter’s arm, and turned her to face him. Very gently, he said, “I wish it were possible, Nat, for your sake, but I can’t. And in all truthfulness, I don’t think your mother wants me back. I said I still loved her in a certain way, but it isn’t the kind of love that would support a marriage. Perhaps I should correct that and say I’m very fond of your mother because of our early relationship and because of you. There’s a big difference.”

  “I know.”

  They began walking again.

  Natasha slipped her arm through his, clinging to him as they fell into step. They were very much alike in looks, and Natasha was almost as tall as he was. And to passersby there was no doubt that they were father and daughter. Philippe was slim, elegant in appearance, and handsome in a quiet way, his lean face sensitive, his dark brown eyes compassionate and kind. Natasha now realized that her mother and father would never get back together, something she had often dreamed about. But she hoped they would be more amicable with each other in the future. Perhaps if her father did come back to work in Paris, her mother would see him in a better light, and relent.

  “Would you work at the Pasteur Institute again, Dad?” she now asked.

  “I’d like to, yes, Nattie, but I’m not sure that this would be possible. However, they’re interested in talking to me. Actually, I’m seeing the director tomorrow.”

  “You’re such a brilliant virologist, they’ll want you, Dad. I just know they will.”

  He laughed. “Thank you for that vote of confidence, Natasha. I’m glad I have you on my side.”

  “I am, Dad.”

  “How about going in here?” he suggested, stopping in front of a café. “I remember it well. They have wonderful croissants and make the best fried eggs. Come on, let’s try it.”

  Once they were inside the café, Natasha shrugged out of her green quilted-down coat, and Philippe hung it up for her, along with his sheepskin jacket. After they had been seated and had ordered, he said, “I’m going to New York later next week with your grandmother.”

  Natasha looked across the table at him alertly. “How is she?”

  “Quite well, thanks, Nattie. Longing to see you again.” He pursed his lips. “Perhaps you and she can get to know each other one day.”

  “It could happen if you were living in Paris,” Natasha said, unable to keep the eagerness out of her voice. “I mean, she could come here to see you. And me. Don’t you think?”

  Philippe nodded. He was glad he made the effort and had gone to see Claire and Natasha last night. The outcome had been better than he had expected, despite Claire’s outburst. And he knew now that he did have his daughter’s love, and that perhaps his mother would also have it one day. And that pleased him greatly.

  “I’m sorry to intrude, Laura,” Philippe said, speaking to her from a phone in the lobby of the hotel. “But I had hoped we might get together, if only for a few minutes. I need to speak to you about Natasha. And Claire.”

  “Just a moment please, Philippe,” Laura said.

  Although she had covered the receiver with her hand, he could vaguely hear her speaking to Doug, and then she came back to him. “Yes, all right. I’ll be down in a few minutes. Why don’t you go and wait for me in the long gallery, where they serve tea.”

  “That’s fine. Thanks,” he said, and hung up.

  Walking across the lobby, Philippe Lavillard headed into the gallery where tea and drinks were served, and found himself a table. He took off his jacket, put it on a chair, and settled in the other one to wait for Laura Valiant.

  He had always liked her, and considered her to be a truly good friend to Claire. Many times he had often wanted to ask her if she knew anything about Claire’s past that would shed light on her distrust of men, himself in particular. But he had always lost his nerve at the last moment.

  Suddenly Laura was there, standing in front of him, looking elegant in a dark red jacket and black pants. Beautiful as always, he said to himself as he jumped up and stretched out his hand.

  After shaking it, Laura sat down and asked, “Did you have a nice morning with Natasha?”

  “Yes, it’s always great to be with her, she’s a very special girl, very grown-up for her age. We walked, had breakfast, and then took another walk through the Luxembourg Gardens. We enjoyed being together.”

  Laura said, “I’m glad. And you’re correct, Philippe, she’s a terrific girl. Claire’s done a good job.”

  “Yes, she has, Laura. I’m the first to say it.”

  Laura looked at him and asked politely, “Would you like a cup of tea? Or a drink? It’s about that time.”

  He shook his head. “Thanks, but I don’t really want anything. Except to talk to you for a few minutes about Clai
re.”

  “What about her?” Laura asked cautiously.

  Leaning forward, Philippe said in a quiet, confiding tone, “Look, Laura, I want to spend more time with Natasha, and she’d like that too. But you know how fierce Claire is, and she’s determined to keep us apart.”

  A thoughtful look crossed Laura’s face, and she replied, “I have a feeling Claire thinks you’re the one who has created the situation. I mean because you work in Zaire.”

  “I know she does. And I’m planning to leave there. It may take me some time to extricate myself and to find a new job, but I’ve made up my mind to be in the same city as my daughter. If that’s at all possible.”

  “I see,” Laura said, and added, “Last night was really awful. I must admit, I was a bit startled by Claire’s anger. I’ve never seen her like that.”

  “Neither have I, to be honest, Laura. She’s been furious with me for a long time now. And I admit there’s been quite a lot of acrimony between us, but last night she was worse than ever. Claire didn’t seem like herself. I even wondered if there was something else upsetting her. Was there? Is there?”

  “Not that I know of,” Laura answered, and instantly thought of Hercule’s concern that Claire was ill. But she refrained from mentioning it. After all, Claire’s life had nothing to do with Philippe anymore.

  He said, “Once I’m back in Paris, I’m hoping I can establish a better relationship with Claire. Do you think that’s possible?”

  For a moment Laura was silent, pondering this, and finally she said, “Perhaps.”

  “Only perhaps? You don’t sound very certain.”

  “I guess I’m not. On the other hand, her complaint is that you’re so far away in Zaire. So, once you’re back, maybe she’ll understand how serious you are about Natasha, serious about helping to bring her up. Because that’s what you’d be doing, wouldn’t you?”

  “Absolutely. And I want her to get to know my mother better. She’s hardly seen her grandmother in the last few years, and that’s not right, Laura. You more than anyone else should understand that.”

  Laura merely nodded, but deep down she agreed with him. And she was coming to understand how sincere he was about changing his life in order to accommodate his daughter in it. How obvious it was he wanted to be with her, share time with her. She loved Claire, but like all people, Claire was not infallible. Last night Hercule had suggested that she had always seen Philippe through Claire’s eyes and not her own. Even Doug had pointed out that he was not such a bad fellow. Perhaps they were right. She suddenly adjusted her thinking about Philippe Lavillard.

  Now Laura said, “Yes, I do think it’s important Natasha get to know her grandmother. After all, we all need family. But I thought your mother lived in New York?”

  “She does, but she often comes to Paris. She was born here, you know. Anyway, if I were living here, she’d probably come more often.” He paused, and looked at Laura intently. “I know how close you are to Claire, and I almost hesitate to ask this, but do you think you can put in a good word for me? I’m very serious about getting closer to Natasha, being with her in these important years of her life.”

  “I know that. Still, Claire might wonder why I’m suddenly intervening.”

  “You could tell her I’d been to see you.”

  “I suppose I could.”

  “You still sound very hesitant, Laura, and I don’t want to put you in an awkward situation with Claire. Look, why don’t you think about this … once I’ve moved here, maybe you could talk to Claire and then get her to come around to my way of thinking.”

  “Yes, I could do that, Philippe. I realize how important this is to you, and I think it’s important to Natasha as well. She should know her father.” Laura nodded. “Okay. I’ll talk to Claire, but not until you’re settled in Paris and ready to participate in Natasha’s life.”

  He smiled at her and his dark eyes lit up. “Thank you, Laura. Thank you very much.”

  8

  It seemed to Laura that the rest of the week in Paris flew by. Suddenly, before she knew it, Friday morning was upon her, and she was scurrying around doing last minute things.

  By the time she finally arrived at the Bar des Théâtres across the street from the Plaza-Athénée, it was one-fifteen and she was late for her lunch date with Claire.

  But Claire merely smiled as she began to apologize, and said mildly, “It doesn’t matter, I know what it’s like when you’re pushed for time. Come on, Laura darling, take off your coat and sit down.”

  Laura did this, agreed to the glass of champagne Claire suggested, and then sat back. After taking a deep breath, she grinned and said, “Everything just piled in on me all of a sudden, but it was all good stuff! A lot of things came to fruition, finally, this morning.”

  “So it’s been a successful trip?” Claire asked, raising an auburn brow.

  “Very much so. Our Canadian client has committed to the Matisse and the Cézanne, and then this morning a private dealer I know came up with a Bonnard that’s simply beautiful. I’m sure the same Canadian client will buy that too. And I think another client in New York is going to buy the Renoir … the countess’s Renoir.”

  “That’s great! Hercule will be pleased, and so will the countess. Apparently she needs the money for repairs to the château in the Loire,” Claire said. “Although I’m not sure why she feels the need to maintain that place. Hercule says it’s enormous. She ought to sell it, in my opinion.”

  “Hercule said something to me too … about it being in the family for hundreds of years, and there’s the countess’s son, who inherited the title and the lands. I’m sure the house is … well, part of them. It’s their heritage, his heritage, actually.”

  “I guess so,” Claire agreed. She chuckled suddenly. “My mother used to say that a house is a thief. It steals all your money. Don’t ever forget that.”

  “As if I could! When Grandma Megan gave me her house in Connecticut I was thrilled, until I realized that it’s a money pit. And that’s with Doug doing a lot of repairs and other things himself. You know how handy he is with tools.”

  “Give the famous Doug my love. It was lovely to see him last weekend.”

  “I will.” Laura took a sip of the champagne, which had just materialized, saying cheers as she did so. With a frown she then asked, “Why does everyone call him the famous Doug in that way?”

  “I didn’t know everyone did; I thought it was only me,” Claire replied, looking at Laura curiously, her head on one side.

  “Well, actually Philippe said the same thing the other day—” Laura stopped, wondering if she had made a faux pas by mentioning Philippe’s name.

  “Philippe said, give the famous Doug my love when you saw him in the museum? Is that what you mean?” Claire murmured, her puzzlement reflected on her face.

  “No, not that. He said, how’s the famous Doug? And what I’m getting at now is why you and he call Doug famous?”

  “I think I was the one who started it, because when you first met him you talked about him so much, raved about his looks and his brains and … his brawn.” Claire laughed as she finished. “You were so crazy about him, you made him seem like a movie star, and therefore famous. And he is so good-looking, the proverbial tall, dark, and handsome hero, right?”

  Laura laughed with her old friend. She said, “I guess I was pretty bowled over at the time. He was the most gorgeous thing on two legs that I’d ever seen. Still is, really.”

  “So, give him my love.”

  “I will. And I know he reciprocates. You’ve always been his favorite.”

  Claire looked pleased on hearing this, but she made no comment. Then she asked, “What do you want to eat? I think I’ll have the omelette fines herbes, and a green salad.”

  “I’ll have the same, Claire, I’m not very hungry.”

  Once Claire had ordered lunch for them, she confided, “It’s been wonderful having you here, Laura. I’m going to miss you, and so is Natasha. You’re the
only person she has in this world, you know. After me, of course.”

  “And her—” Laura began to cough, covered her mouth with her hand. Once she calmed herself, she added, “She has Hercule,” knowing how stupid it would be to say she has her father, which she had just been about to do.

  “You started to say her father, didn’t you?” Claire said.

  Laura felt herself flushing. After a moment, she nodded.

  Claire went on quickly. “But she doesn’t have him, you see. She never had him. He’s never been a good father to her. Nor was he a good husband, for that matter. His work and his women invariably came first. He was extremely independent, and did what he wanted. And very selfishly so. He was neglectful of me, and of Natasha.”

  Suddenly they were right in the middle of something Laura had not intended, had, in fact, wanted to avoid at all cost. She wondered how to respond, was afraid of upsetting Claire by saying the wrong thing. And so she said nothing at all.

  Suddenly, Claire leaned across the table, staring into Laura’s troubled face. “I’m so sorry about last Saturday night. I wish it hadn’t happened. It was ugly and unnecessary. But Philippe shouldn’t have arrived like that, unannounced. He knows it upsets me when he does. Somehow he always manages to create problems.”

  “I know how hurt and angry you’ve been, and still are, Claire,” Laura acknowledged in a sympathetic voice. “But I do wish you could put all that on one side, turn away from it. Philippe is no longer a part of your life, except for seeing Natasha from time to time. It’s so … enervating to hang on to anger the way you do, darling.”

  Claire sighed. “I wish I could turn away, Laura, but I can’t forget all the terrible things he did to me. I suppose I’m bitter.”

  The waiter arrived with their food, which saved Laura the trouble of replying. She was greatly relieved, since she did not know how to answer Claire. At least, not in a way that would please her friend. Laura was aware that to harbor bitterness was deadly: It only bred more pain and hurt in the long run. However, getting Claire to accept this was another matter altogether. Even to attempt it would be a futile exercise on her part.