Voice of the Heart

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  ‘No, not really.’ He decided not to probe any further about the work and instead exclaimed, ‘Say, how’s that brother of yours? What’s he up to?’

  ‘To be precise, a divorce at the moment. His wife left him. For another man.’

  ‘You mean Pandora Tremaine turned out to be a dud? I’ll be damned. And I always thought she was something special. So did Hilly Street—that summer on the Côte d’Azur. He sure as hell was proud to be escorting an Hon. Don’t you remember?’

  ‘I certainly do. And I always found Pandora sweet and loving as well. But apparently she was miserable with Kim. Although she had me fooled for a number of years. And Kim, it seems. He was terribly distressed when Pandora did a bolt. Much more than he was when Katharine dumped him. As a matter of fact, a couple of years ago he finally confessed to me that he was genuinely relieved when Katharine decided to stay in Hollywood in 1956. As you and I always suspected, her career troubled him. He knew it would disturb their life. Doris had pointed that out. She also knew Pandora was unhappy, saw characteristics we didn’t, considered her to be flighty.’

  ‘And how is the delectable Doris? And your father?’

  ‘Oh Nicky dear, you don’t know. How could you? Daddy died two years ago. He had a stroke. Died almost immediately. Thank God. He would have hated to live out the rest of his life as a vegetable.’

  Nick’s eyes clouded and he went and sat next to her, took her hand. ‘I’m so terribly sorry, Frankie. I know you were close to him. How old was he?’

  ‘Sixty-eight. I’m just thankful he found Doris and married her, that they had twenty years together. Twenty years of sheer bliss. They were happy, Nicky, truly happy, those two.’

  ‘How did Doris take it? She must have been heartbroken. She did adore him so.’

  ‘Yes, she did. And she took it rather badly. But their daughter, Marigold, was a source of great comfort to her, as was Kim. And Doris is almost like her old self.’ Francesca stood up, moved to the chest, reached out for a framed photograph. She handed it to Nick. ‘This is Marigold, with Doris and Daddy at the villa in Monte Carlo, taken about four years ago.’

  ‘What a lovely girl! Her name suits her… all that lovely auburn hah, like her mother. She must be twenty, or thereabouts.’

  Francesca took the photograph from him, put it back on the chest. ‘Yes, as a matter of fact she’ll be twenty-one this summer. God, Nick, doesn’t that make you feel old? I can hardly recollect what I was like at twenty-one.’

  ‘Oh but I can, kid. You were gorgeous.’ Nick looked her over appraisingly, and winked. ‘And you still are. You don’t look your age, not one bit, Beauty.’

  ‘Neither do you! Now, what about lunch? I’m starving.’

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  It was like old times for Francesca and Nicholas. They laughed a lot during lunch at the Carlyle and talked about their lives, and it was as if they had seen each other only yesterday. They were relaxed, and the old camaraderie was fully intact. The years had been bridged without one hint of awkwardness.

  Frequently sentences began with, ‘Do you remember when…’ But for the most part they concentrated on the present, avoided deep discussions about the past, were careful not to evoke remembrances of old disappointments, of all the things which might have been.

  Nonetheless, at one moment Francesca did become introspective and she turned to Nicky and said, ‘It’s funny, but I always thought I’d have a very different life from the one I’ve had. I imagined I would marry young, have babies, live in a nice country house, perhaps have a pied-à-terre in London, and grow old comfortably with the same man. You know, lead a staid life, become a matronly lady and eventually a grandmother. As it is, everything turned out quite the opposite.’

  He had caught a certain wistfulness in her tone, and examined her face closely. ‘Any regrets, Frankie?’

  ‘Regrets are a waste of time, Nicky.’ She laughed, and the laughter came easily, then added, ‘Oh a few, I suppose. But then again, too few to mention, to quote that popular Sinatra song.’

  Nick’s smile reflected hers. ‘You certainly did it your way, kid. Just as I did. And that particular film’s been shot. It’s in the can. There’s no way we can shoot it again, is there?’

  ‘Not really, darling. Unless you believe in reincarnation.’ She played with the stem of her wine glass, said in a sudden rush, ‘You were once very angry with me, Nicky, and I would like to—’

  ‘I angry with you? Never!’ he exclaimed, his surprise apparent. ‘You’ve imagined it, Beauty.’

  ‘No, I haven’t. It was in the early sixties, when I refused to go with you to see The Sabres of Passion, when I vowed I would never see it. I’d like to confess something. I saw it twice.’

  ‘Twice.’ He flashed her a mildly reproving look which hinted at amusement, and laughed, ‘And you never let on, you secretive little minx.’

  ‘I suppose I was a bit shame-faced, embarrassed to admit it. Anyway, the first time I cried all the way through, hardly saw one scene clearly. So I went back.’ She gave him a sidelong glance, her eyes filling with merriment. ‘You could say I’m a glutton for punishment. Anyway, I thought it was—’ She paused, finished with a sly grin, ‘I thought it was the whole enchilada.’

  Nick chuckled. ‘Oh Frankie, you’re too much. Why ever didn’t you tell me?’

  She shrugged, asked in the softest of voices, ‘How is he, Nicky?’

  Her question so startled him, Nick’s jaw almost dropped. She had never mentioned Victor in previous years. But, he supposed, her wounds had healed by now. As his own wounds had healed. It would be strange if they had not, he thought, then said, ‘Vic’s the same. He hasn’t changed much. In fact, hardly at all. He’s been a widower a number of years, you know.’

  ‘Yes, I’d heard. I’m sorry,’ Francesca murmured. ‘And he’s never remarried, has he?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Does he still live at the ranch?’

  ‘Sure he does. He loves that place. He spends most of his time at Che Sarà Sarà. Jake Watson’s with him a great deal. Jake runs Bellissima for Vic, which has become a big successful company. They’re producing pictures for theatrical release, and for television as well. Vic doesn’t make too many movies himself any more, as I guess you know. Although he did finish one last year.’ Nick’s face lit up. ‘My screenplay. It’s damned good, even if I do say so myself. It should be out soon. You ought to go and see it, kid.’

  Her pretty mouth lifted in a smile. ‘Maybe I will, and give you a critique,’ she teased. ‘And what about the boys?’

  ‘Both married,’ Nick answered and grinned. ‘Vic’s a grandfather, if you can believe that! And he relishes the role. Jamie has two daughters, Steve a son. Vic’s very proud of his family, is devoted to them, gets tremendous pleasure from the grandchildren. And—’ Nick stopped, took the menus the waiter was proffering, handed one to Francesca, and said, ‘How about a nice fattening dessert, Beauty?’

  ‘I don’t think so! Oh well, I’ll look anyway.’ After a moment she placed the carte on the table, glanced around. The restaurant in the Carlyle had been jammed when they arrived, but it was much less crowded now. As she turned to the right, her eyes widened and she swung her head, picked up the menu and held it in front of her face. Squeezing Nick’s knee, she whispered, ‘We should have gone to La Grenouille after all. Estelle Morgan’s sitting at the other side of the room. With Katharine.’

  ‘Oh Christ!’ Nick’s mouth tightened in aggravation. ‘So she’s finally arrived in New York, and wouldn’t you know we’d be the first to run into her. What goddamned luck we have. The worst.’ He cursed under his breath, then said, ‘Hell, kid, we can’t very well sit here hiding behind these.’ He took the menu away from Francesca, laid it down with his, and asked, ‘Where are they sitting?’

  ‘To my right. Diagonally across from you.’

  Focusing on Francesca, he said, ‘How does she look?’

  ‘Nicky! You’re impossible. Here we are, trapp
ed, and you want to know how she looks. My priority is to get out of here, before Estelle sees us. You know what she’s like. She’ll be over in a flash. I’m surprised she hasn’t landed on us already. Unless they haven’t seen us yet. This place was awfully crowded until a few minutes ago.’

  ‘We’re going to finish lunch,’ Nick pronounced decisively. His tone was even firmer as he continued, ‘We are not going to run away. She’s not going to drive us into the street. We’ll just brazen it out. Besides, what the hell can she do to us? She’s hardly going to sit down at our table. The worst that can happen is that she’ll say hello. We’re civilized people, we’ll say hello in return, and she’ll be on her merry way.’

  He motioned to the waiter, ordered coffee, lit a cigarette. As he did so he glanced to the right of the restaurant, spotted Estelle and Katharine, glanced away quickly, but not before his eyes had registered an image of her. Chestnut hah pulled back. Face as pale as ivory. Eyes of a unique incomparable turquoise hue. And they had been staring directly at him. He felt himself tensing and a sudden chill swept through him, despite the warmth in the restaurant.

  ‘You’d better fasten your seat belt,’ he muttered, touching Francesca’s hand. ‘Estelle is bound to materialize any second. Katharine’s seen us.’

  ‘Oh God. Let’s leave, Nicky.’ Francesca smiled faintly at the waiter, thanked him as he placed the demitasse before her.

  ‘Okay. I guess you’re right. When the waiter comes back I’ll get the check.’

  ‘Too late, I’m afraid,’ Francesca whispered, stiffening next to him.

  ‘Francesca, Nicholas darling! Fancy running into you two!’ Estelle planted herself solidly at the other side of their table, smiling hugely.

  Francesca merely nodded, and Nick said, ‘Hi, Estelle’, made a motion to rise.

  Estelle waved him back into his seat. ‘Please, darling, don’t disturb yourself. I just popped over to ask you to join us for a drink. You will, won’t you? Katharine’s longing to say hello. When you’ve finished your coffee, of course.’

  Nick felt Francesca’s fingers biting into his knee. ‘Thanks Estelle, but I’m afraid we can’t. Please give our regrets to… Katharine,’ he said.

  The journalist was about to attempt persuasion, but she instantly saw the unfamiliar coldness creeping on to Nick’s face, and was aware of the hostility in Francesca. Stuck up snob, Estelle said to herself. Cold bitch. She beamed her attention on Nick. ‘Oh dear, Kath will be so disappointed. She was very excited when she saw you, Nicholas.’ Estelle hovered, her expression pleading.

  ‘Sorry, Estelle, we can’t,’ he repeated. ‘Nice seeing you.’

  It was a dismissal and she knew it, and she flushed, backed away. ‘Nice seeing you too,’ she parroted. Giving Francesca a peremptory nod, Estelle bounced across the room to the table in the rear, bridling and filled with mortification.

  ‘I really can’t bear her,’ Francesca said. ‘I’m still irritated by her behaviour ten days ago, when she came to do that blatantly bogus interview.’

  ‘I couldn’t believe it when you told me. But that’s Estelle; she’s always had chutzpah. Where in the hell is the waiter? They’re never around when you need them. Might as well finish the coffee.’ Nick poured for them both, and added, ‘I’m not going to scurry out of here like a scared rabbit.’

  The words had barely left his mouth when he caught his breath, glancing up. Katharine was standing before them, looking cool, poised and elegantly beautiful in a white wool-crêpe dress and turquoise jewellery that reflected her spectacular eyes.

  ‘Hello, Frankie, Nicky.’

  They murmured their greetings, and Nick attempted to get up.

  ‘No, please don’t stand. This won’t take a minute,’ Katharine said, speaking rapidly, in a low voice. ‘I understand why you have refused to see me and I don’t blame you at all. You must hate me. What I did to the two of you has been on my conscience for a long time. I owe you both an explanation. I’m staying here in the hotel. Suite 2203. Will you come up for ten minutes? Please?’

  Neither of them could speak. Finally Francesca found her voice, said, ‘I’m afraid… that’s quite impossible.’

  Nick remained mute.

  Katharine smiled diffidently, aware of their discomfiture, their awkwardness. She inclined her head slowly, graciously. ‘Think about it for a few minutes, discuss it. One rarely gets an opportunity in life—to clear up unfinished business. And the three of us do have a lot of that.’

  She smiled again, and returned to her table. Within seconds she left the restaurant, gliding out with her head held high, and without looking at them. Estelle hurried after her.

  Nick’s eyes followed Katharine. He was surprised at his reaction to her. For years he had experienced a variety of intense and explosive emotions when he dwelt on this complex and baffling woman, a woman whom he had loved more than any other. Anger, hurt, hatred and bitterness had smouldered in him, and yet, at certain times, these feelings had been counterbalanced by a terrible yearning, a longing for her that ate like acid into his very soul. Now, finally, after twelve years, he had gazed upon her again—and he had felt only a strange calmness. Perhaps he was invulnerable to her after all. His fears of recent days were unexpectedly allayed.

  Swinging his head, he gave Francesca his attention, said, ‘Well, she’s right, you know, we do have a great deal of unfinished business.’

  Francesca gaped at him. Her mouth curved down into a grim line. ‘My God, you capitulate pretty easily!’ she gasped, clenching her hands in her lap.

  Nick frowned in puzzlement at himself, for he was still sifting through his present emotions. He said thoughtfully, ‘It’s amazing, Frankie. I felt nothing. No, that’s not exactly true. I did experience a twinge of curiosity about her life, what she had to say to us.’

  ‘Curiosity killed the cat.’

  ‘Not always. I must admit, I would like to know why she sold Florabelle… amongst other things. Don’t you want to know why she lied in her teeth about Victor?’

  ‘It’s not important any more. What difference does it make now? And what makes you think she’ll tell us the truth, Nicky?’ She knew he wanted to go up to that suite and confront Katharine, and she was afraid she would be coerced into accompanying him.

  ‘It would resolve everything in our minds, wouldn’t it, Frankie? I’ll tell you something else, darling, she’s haunted me for years. I think I’d like to expunge her ghostly presence from my mind and my heart once and for all. Yes, I honestly think I have to follow up on my unfinished business with… my dark lady of the sonnets.’

  Francesca nodded, and her genuine love and friendship for Nicholas Latimer rose to the surface. She remembered all the good he had done her in the past, his loyalty and devotion and moral support. Her attitude softened, and she told him, ‘I can understand the way you feel, Nicky. You loved her so much, and had a long and complicated relationship with her. It must have been sheer torture for you over the years, when you contemplated her betrayals, asked yourself why she treated you the way she did.’ She took his hand, held it tightly. ‘But I’m not letting you go up there alone. You see, Nicky, I don’t trust her.’

  ‘I’m not sure that I do either, Beauty.’ He laughed. ‘But we’re old hands at the Tempest game. She can’t fool us any more. And thanks for agreeing to come with me. Now, I’ll pay and then we’ll take the elevator up to the twenty-second floor to hear what the lady has to say for herself.’

  ***

  They sat, the three of them, in front of the huge plate glass window overlooking Madison Avenue. Nick and Francesca had positioned themselves on the sofa together; Katharine was perched on the edge of an armchair facing them. There was a hint of expectancy and tension in the air, but to the naked eye all three appeared to be self-contained and surprisingly at ease. In all truth, it was Francesca who was the most nervous. She smoothed her skirt several times, crossed and uncrossed her legs, and then sat back. She looked at Katharine through wary eyes and her
face was guarded.

  Katharine’s well-remembered voice broke the silence which had settled over them after the initial greetings. ‘Thank you for coming up to the suite. I wasn’t sure you would. This is not easy for me… for any of us, I know… quite painful really. So, I’m not going to waste time with small talk. I’ll get straight to the point.’

  ‘Yes,’ Nick said. ‘Why don’t you.’

  Katharine smiled ever so faintly, looked past him into the distance, her expression reflective. She said, ‘When I decided in December that I wanted to come home, get back to my roots, to live in the States permanently, I knew I couldn’t be in the same city as you, under the same bit of sky as you, without approaching you both. I cannot put the clock back, change what I did, but I would like to tell you the truth now, after so long. I’m not asking you to exonerate me. After all, I did hurt you both. But I hope you might find it in your hearts to forgive me.’

  When neither of her former friends uttered a word, Katharine continued quietly, ‘Frankie, I must address myself to you first.’ Her eyes were levelled on Francesca’s, and they were as steady as her voice. ‘I was not pregnant by Victor Mason. In fact, I never had an affair with him. Victor was patently uninterested in me as a woman. He was only intrigued by Katharine the actress.’ She sat back in the chair, and the relief she was experiencing was like a balm to her. Part of the slate had been wiped clean.

  Francesca’s face was impassive, betrayed none of the thoughts and feelings clamouring inside her. She glanced at Nick, whose expression was grim, then brought her eyes back to Katharine. She said, in an infinitely cold little voice, ‘Then why in God’s name did you tell such a rotten he?’

  ‘I never intended to he, or place the blame for my pregnancy on Victor, honestly I didn’t. His name just popped into my head, and I’d said it before I could stop myself, and then it was too late. I couldn’t retract it. I was stuck with that he.’

  ‘Were you really pregnant by someone, or was that a lie too?’ Francesca demanded.