Voice of the Heart

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  The sight of her in the colourful outfit brought a smile of pleasure to his face. ‘Hi, kid,’ he cried, moving forward. He caught her in his arms roughly and hugged her several times.

  This display of spontaneous affection on his part delighted Francesca. He seemed more handsome than ever, and her heart was pounding rapidly from his close embrace. She took hold of herself and said, ‘Sorry we’re late. We hit a bad patch of ice on the mountain, and it slowed us down.’

  ‘I’ve only been waiting five minutes at the most,’ he said, releasing his grip on her arms. Playfully he flicked the pom-poms, strung on lengths of wool and dangling from the shoulder of her sweater. ‘You look exactly the way I feel.’

  ‘And how’s that?’ she asked.

  ‘Gay. Lighthearted. And I’ll tell you something else, kid. I think I’m getting high on this fabulous air. It beats Dom Pérignon any time.’

  She laughed. ‘Yes, it is marvellous, isn’t it. And I’m glad you’re in a carefree mood, because we are too. Oh look, here’s Diana.’

  Victor turned. He was not quite sure what he had expected Francesca’s cousin to be like, certainly not as stunning and stylish as the girl approaching them. Taken aback though he was, he camouflaged his startled reaction behind an affable smile.

  Diana was dressed entirely in white, even to the leather boots that rose above her ski pants. The latter were beautifully tailored and fitted her like a second skin, and with them she wore a loose sweater-tunic of fluffy angora wool, belted with a white silk rope which was tasselled at the ends. Her hair was the most astonishing thing about her. It was the colour of silver gilt and it rippled, long and straight, halfway down her back, parted in the centre above a wide brow. As she drew closer he saw that her face was small and delicate, and patrician like Francesca’s, but they bore little physical resemblance to each other apart from this one distinction. Their features were markedly different, and in contrast to Francesca, who was tall and willowy, Diana was small-boned, diminutive, elfin.

  She came to a standstill, her eyes sweeping over him with unabashed interest and curiosity. If the face upturned to his was not exactly beautiful, it was arresting, and he was instantly struck by the extraordinary peacefulness that dwelt there. And then she smiled, and he could not help thinking: The Gioconda Smile. The face of a madonna indeed. Her silver-grey eyes, fringed with thick lashes the same silver gilt as her hair, were large, and intelligence and merriment shone out from them. Her complexion had been tanned to a soft golden bronze, and it was patently obvious to Victor that she was a natural, outdoor girl who did not need to resort to the artifice of cosmetics for her appeal. The only make-up she wore was a touch of coral lipstick.

  Francesca said, ‘Diana, this is Victor Mason. Victor, this is my cousin, Diana von Wittingen.’

  ‘How do you do, Mr Mason.’ Diana stretched out her hand. ‘I’m pleased to meet you.’

  ‘So am I,’ he said, shaking her hand. ‘And please let’s drop the formalities. Call me Victor. Can I call you Diana?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said, the Mona Lisa smile flickering. ‘If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I must go into the airport to ’phone the house. I’m sure Cheska told you there’s ice on the driveway. I want someone to put down sand and cinders; otherwise there’ll be an accident. Whilst I’m ’phoning, perhaps you’d help Cheska stow your luggage. You’ll have to put the skis in the back of the Volks, and manoeuvre them around a bit. They’ll fit, if you stick them through one of the windows.’

  ‘I hope you’re right.’ He looked at the tiny car doubtfully as Diana disappeared into the airport. He glanced after her and said to Francesca, ‘What a great-looking girl!’

  ‘Yes, she is. Bavaria is scattered with broken-hearted swains, dying of love for her.’ Continuing in a brisker tone, Francesca said, ‘Now, let’s get the cases into the car. One will fit in the boot, the other will have to be wedged on the back seat, along with the skis. And me.’ Francesca picked up the ski bag and walked to the Volkswagen.

  Victor followed with his cases. ‘You two are being over optimistic. Maybe I should get a taxi and have it follow us,’ he suggested. ‘You’re going to be damned uncomfortable, surrounded with all my stuff.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll be all right, don’t worry. We managed with my two bags yesterday. Mind you, I didn’t have skis.’

  Victor took off his cashmere overcoat and flung it on the front seat, then tackled the luggage. It was a tight squeeze, but everything was tucked away in the Volkswagen when Diana returned. She burst into gales of laughter when she saw Francesca squashed in the back, firmly anchored into position by the huge case on one side and the skis which stretched diagonally in front of her and jutted out of the back window.

  ‘Poor darling!’ Diana exclaimed, getting in and slamming the door. ‘It’s a good thing you’re not a fat girl, and that it’s not a long trip.’

  ‘I’m perfectly fine,’ Francesca replied. ‘Come on, Dibs, let’s get off. We’re wasting time.’

  Diana turned on the ignition and pulled out with rapidity, whizzing through the airport at such a speed Victor cringed. She slowed down as they turned onto the main road, and remarked, ‘I hope you won’t be disappointed, Victor, but I’m going to skirt around Salzburg today, so that I can take the fastest route to Königssee. If you want to see the town, we can always come back later in the week. Salzburg is quite beautiful, and the Baroque and Gothic architecture is unique.’

  ‘Yes, later perhaps,’ Victor said, thinking of the skiing he had planned to do, and which he had no wish to forgo for a round of sightseeing, visiting monuments, museums and churches.

  Diana caught his reluctance, and said casually, ‘We don’t have to make a decision about that now.’ Without turning around, she said over her shoulder to Francesca, ‘Are you going to tell Victor, or shall I?’

  ‘Tell me what?’

  ‘I will, Dibs.’ Francesca smiled faintly at Victor, who had swivelled in his seat. ‘There’s been a slight change of plan. Diana hasn’t booked you into a hotel. She’s had second thoughts about it, and she thinks you should stay with us. She’d like you to be her house guest.’

  Victor’s black brows shot up. ‘That’s really swell of you, and I appreciate your kindness, Diana, but I think it would be more circumspect if I stayed at a hotel, as planned.’

  Diana looked at him through the corners of her eyes, and a smile played around her mouth. ‘I’m not sure it would be circumspect. Cheska has explained everything to me, and I think you’d be far too conspicuous in a hotel. You’re so well known, you’d be recognized immediately. There are journalists in Germany too, you know. Our house is halfway up a mountain, rather isolated from town, and also very private. If you stay with us, no one need know you’re even in Bavaria. We don’t have to go into the town at all, and in your skiing gear and goggles you’ll be faceless on the slopes.’

  ‘Points well taken,’ Victor said. He was thoughtful, mulling the idea over, realizing she made sense. ‘Maybe it is the wisest thing to do. Still, I don’t want Francesca to feel awkward about it. I guess I’ve got to toss the ball back to her. What do you want me to do, kid?’

  Francesca leaned forward, her hands resting on the skis, her smile wide with happiness. ‘I’d like you to stay at Wittingenhof with us,’ she said, having resolved earlier to be honest with him, to let her feelings show, regardless of the consequences. She waited, became aware of his indecisiveness, and rushed on, ‘Diana took me down to the hotel in Königssee late yesterday afternoon, and although it’s the best, it’s not what you’re used to, and they didn’t have a suite available. Only a rather grotty room. So apart from anything else, you’d be much more comfortable at the house.’

  Victor looked at her carefully. This is one hell of a switch on her part, he thought. He said, ‘Won’t it create problems for you later, if I do? Won’t you have to explain to yo—’

  She cut him short. ‘Of course not!’ she exclaimed, smiling reassuringly. ‘I don’t think
we should worry about that now.’ Her voice was smooth, unconcerned.

  Momentarily nonplussed, in view of their long discussion about her father on Saturday night, Victor intensified his scrutiny. He could see that her mood of gaiety and enthusiasm was undiminished, and he was suddenly convinced she knew what she was doing. Yet he had difficulty in acquiescing. He was not sure why. ‘Well, I’m still—’

  ‘Excuse me for interrupting, Victor,’ Diana said. ‘But I’d like to make something clear. The Schloss is large. You would have your own suite of rooms and your privacy. We won’t intrude on you in any way, and you can come and go as you like.’ She laughed lightly, threw him a quick glance. ‘I never restrict my guests.’

  ‘Hey, Diana, that’s not why I’m hesitating. I know you’d make me welcome and comfortable.’ He swung his head to face Francesca, noted the expectancy in her eyes, made a snap decision. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’ll stay at the house. Providing you’re sure it’s all right, Francesca.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ she cried, unable to disguise her excitement. ‘Oh good. It’s settled. On to Wittingenhof, Dibs darling.’

  Victor chuckled. If Francesca could accept the situation with such apparent insouciance and pleasure, who was he to argue. He settled back in the seat, relaxing, and took out a packet of cigarettes. He lit one, smoking in silence for a few minutes, and then he said, ‘I hope this doesn’t mean a lot of extra work for you, Diana.’

  ‘Not at all, we have excellent help. And actually, your suite is already prepared and waiting for you. Christian insisted on that. Ah, we’re almost at the Austrian border. Do you have your passport handy, Victor?’

  ‘Sure do.’ He reached into the inside pocket of his Harris tweed sports jacket and pulled it out.

  ‘You have mine,’ Francesca said, tapping Diana lightly on the shoulder.

  Diana nodded. ‘Yes, I do. They may not be needed, but it’s best to have them ready.’ She braked as the border guards came forward to meet the car. When they saw Diana, who was leaning out of the window, they smiled and nodded and waved her on. Within a few minutes she was sliding to a stop at the German frontier. Once again the border patrol seemed to know her and they chatted cordially, glanced indifferently at the passports, and signalled her to pass through the barrier which had just been raised.

  When they were over the border, and speeding down the road again, Victor said, ‘They didn’t seem particularly interested in us. Is that normal procedure?’

  ‘Not really, but I’m backwards and forwards to Salzburg all the time, and the guards at the German side live in and around the area. They’ve known me for many years,’ Diana explained. She slackened her speed. ‘Victor, do look around. Isn’t Bavaria beautiful?’

  He peered out of the windows with interest. Forests of pine rose majestically on either side of the road, the stately firs of a green so dark they were almost black, their branches weighted with frostings of snow that glistened in the brilliant sunshine. The wooded landscape stretched as far as the eye could see, its impressive sweep unbroken by any form of habitation or signs of civilization. And towering above these great coniferous forests were the glacial Alps, awesome in their grandeur and solitary beauty under a sky of dazzling azure.

  ‘It’s breathtaking,’ Victor pronounced. ‘I can’t wait to hit those slopes.’ He indicated the range of mountains on the far horizon.

  ‘I know what you mean,’ Diana said. ‘Francesca tells me you’re a champion skier.’

  ‘She said the same about you!’

  ‘Oh, I’m not too bad,’ Diana answered off-handedly. ‘And since you’re obviously an experienced skier, I’ve decided to take you up on the Jenner tomorrow. Then if you want a longer run, we can tackle the Rossfeld on Friday. The snow has been good this year. It’s lasted well. Conditions are ideal. You’ll get some good skiing, Victor.’

  ‘I hope so. I’ve been looking forward to this break for weeks on end.’

  Francesca said, ‘I don’t think I’ll be joining the two of you. At least not on the Jenner or the Rossfeld. They’re too difficult. To tell you the truth, even the nursery slopes seem a bit frightening to me this year. Perhaps I should skip the skiing entirely.’

  ‘That might be best. You’d better not tax yourself,’ Victor cautioned. ‘You’ve been sick, remember. I think it’s wiser and safer to do something less dangerous.’

  ‘I’ll potter around the Schloss and keep Christian company.’

  ‘Oh that will please him, Cheska,’ Diana smiled, affection ringing in her voice. She said to Victor, ‘I hear you usually go to Klosters. The skiing is certainly comparable here.’ She sighed lightly and shook her head. ‘When you’re up above six thousand feet everything down below seems so very petty, utterly sham, wherever the mountain is located. Up there, surrounded by such incredible beauty and purity, you feel closer to God, nearer to the truth, and you suddenly get a totally different perspective on the world, see it with clearer eyes. Isn’t that so, Victor?’

  Before he had the opportunity to respond, her laughter echoed around the small car. ‘Oh dear, I’m sounding much too serious and philosophical. The wrong mood entirely.’ Her eyes flicked to Victor and she smiled, brought her gaze back to the road. ‘Cheska and I decided last night that these next few days are going to be carefree, and lots of fun.’

  ‘That suits me,’ Victor said. ‘And I hope you’re going to let me take you all out to dinner one night…’ He stopped, remembering Diana had said he was conspicuous, and added, with a quirky smile, ‘I guess I’ll have to go incognito, wearing my skiing gear and goggles.’

  The girls laughed, and Diana said, ‘That’s an interesting thought. And thank you for your lovely invitation. As a matter of fact, there are some charming old taverns in the area, and also in Salzburg, which I know you’d enjoy. But… well, we’ll see,’ she finished on a noncommittal note.

  Francesca reached out and touched Victor’s shoulder. ‘It’s Diana’s birthday later this week. There’s going to be a small dinner party on Thursday evening. It was planned before she and Christian knew we were coming. You don’t mind meeting a few of their friends, do you?’

  ‘I’m entirely in your hands, kid. And the party sounds great.’ He made a mental note to talk to Francesca about a birthday present for her cousin, wondering absently if there were any good shops in the town.

  Diana and Francesca launched into a discussion about clothes and the outfits they would wear for the party, and Victor lit another cigarette, listening to them with half an ear, amused by their feminine chatter, as well as by the turn of events. You never know in life, old buddy, you just never know, he said to himself.

  Victor sank into his own thoughts for a few moments. Francesca’s cousin was unusually mature and sophisticated in the best sense of that word. Young as she was, she had undoubtedly experienced her own heartache. There had been a ring of conviction and truth and knowledge in her voice when she had mentioned the worthless, the petty, and the sham. The whole world was sham, wasn’t it? The question hung there and he pondered it, and found himself thinking about Francesca. There was nothing sham or shoddy about her. She was pure gold, and very real. The genuine thing, and then some. She’s also verboten, he reminded himself with a start. Unexpectedly, Victor was no longer able to push aside his feelings for her, nor ignore the attraction she held for him. And he was filled with disquiet, contemplating the five days ahead of him, and of living under the same roof with her. Oh Christ, he thought, what have I done?

  ***

  Victor glanced at his watch. They had been on the road for almost an hour now, and he was about to ask how much farther it was to Wittingenhof, when Diana announced, ‘Here we are, Victor.’

  She dropped her speed and came to a standstill, waiting for another car to pass, and then she drove across the highway and began to climb a dirt road, patched with ice in places and recently layered with cinders. It was narrow and twisting, and rose steeply through a dense wood of giant Scotch pines and drifting banks
of frozen snow. They continued to climb for a good twenty minutes. The road began to widen and gradually it levelled off, became a wide flat plateau where the forest thinned out.

  Victor was staring ahead. He could see a stone gatehouse, its white-washed facade intersected with dark wood beams, small windows with wooden shutters and brass carriage lamps on either side of a great stone arch. This cut through the centre of the gatehouse like a tunnel, and from it swung massive black iron gates hanging wide open. Victor lifted his eyes as the Volkswagen rumbled over the cobblestones under the archway. He read the name, Schloss Wittingenhof, and the date, 1833, carved in the stonework above the entrance leading into an estate of some considerable size.

  Diana swung left and stopped in front of a complex of buildings adjoining the gatehouse, obviously stables and garages, and pulled on the brake. She jumped out of the car, calling to Victor, ‘Let’s release poor Cheska, shall we?’ and began tugging at the skis.

  ‘I’ll do that,’ he cried, also alighting, but she had already removed them when he came round to the other side of the Volkswagen. Francesca clambered out, stretched herself, and pulled a face. ‘God, I was just about ready to scream. I’m terribly cramped and stiff.’

  ‘Don’t blame me. I offered to get a taxi for the luggage,’ he reminded her. ‘Listen, swing your arms and touch your toes. That’ll work out the kinks.’ She did as he suggested, and he made a motion to lift his bag off the back seat.

  Diana hoisted his skis onto her shoulder. She said, ‘Don’t bother with your luggage, Victor. Manfred will bring it in later.’ She set off down a patch cut through a wide expanse of clean snow, her silver-gilt hair gleaming in the sunlight as she walked in the direction of the house.

  Victor retrieved his overcoat from the front seat and hurried after Francesca, who was gaily skipping along behind Diana, for all the world like a little yellow bird let out of her cage. He smiled at his comparison, his eyes fastening on her. And it was true, Francesca did seem different to him, freer and less constrained than she was in London. Perhaps her present demeanour had something to do with being in a foreign country, far away from the strictures of her everyday life and all that this entailed; it could be induced by the holiday spirit they all shared; it might even be Diana’s influence at work. But whatever had wrought the change was irrelevant, as far as he was concerned. He liked her joyful, unfettered mood, for it suited her and, furthermore, it made him feel more relaxed.