Voice of the Heart

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  Nick took a swallow of his drink, playing for time. He had wanted to ask her about her relationship with Lazarus, but had now lost his nerve. And so he said, ‘You told me Ryan had dumped your father. What about you? Have you had any contact with him over the years? Or since you’ve been back?’

  She shook her head, and her eyes darkened. ‘No. When I arrived in the States, a few weeks ago, I did ’phone him in Chicago. I was thinking of going to see him.’ She grimaced. ‘My father didn’t want to see me, and I decided to let it go. It suddenly occurred to me that I’d been wasting my time and my energy on my father and Ryan. When you’ve coped with the problems I’ve had to cope with—and alone—you gain new insights, formulate new priorities. But Ryan was always special to me, so I did finally write to him, and he agreed to meet me whenever I planned to be in New York.’ She took a sip of tea, went on, ‘When we did get together, Ryan told me he had broken with my father, and I almost laughed out loud. I’d wanted revenge, had sought to get back at my father for everything he had done to me, and to Ryan, and just like that—’ She snapped her fingers and finished, ‘It was no longer necessary. Ryan had done the one thing I’d been after him to do since he was a boy. He had become his own man. Strong. Independent. Incorruptible.’

  ‘I’m glad Ryan had the guts to strike out on his own, Kath. I’m even more delighted that you have walked away from your father… that’s one of the sanest moves you’ve ever made.’

  Katharine’s smile was warm. ‘I think so.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I’ll have to go in a few minutes. I have a date… with Michael.’

  His face tightened. ‘Oh, you hadn’t said. I’ll get the check. Can I take you wherever you’re going?’

  ‘You can walk with me if you like. His office isn’t far from here. On Park.’

  ‘I know the building. Global-Centurion nobody can miss.’

  The heavy sarcasm floated over her head. Gently she said, ‘I’m hoping he’s going to let me visit my daughter, Vanessa. It’s been nine years since I’ve seen her, Nicky.’

  Oh Jesus, he thought, filled with a rush of compassion. He said, with a small frown, ‘Surely he will. No one could be that cruel.’

  ‘I have good vibrations, Nicky. I think he’ll consent.’

  As they walked to Park Avenue, Katharine told Nicholas about the acrimonious custody fight for the child, the reasons for her divorce from Lazarus, her pain and anguish about the child, as she herself had striven to regain her mental health. Nick was appalled at Lazarus’s callousness, as Beau Stanton had been; he was also impressed with Katharine’s determination to recover, for her daughter’s sake as well as her own. From what she was saying, it was Vanessa who had given her the motivation, the will to come to grips with her life. Nor could he help noticing her self-possession, her calm demeanour, as she recounted the details, and this pleased him enormously.

  ‘I’d like to know how things turn out—with Vanessa,’ Nick said when they reached the Global-Centurion skyscraper. ‘Will you call me?’

  ‘I don’t have your number.’

  ‘It’s the same. But perhaps you’ve forgotten it. Or lost it.’

  ‘Oh no, Nicky, I still have it in my book.’

  ‘Until later then.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘Break a leg.’

  She smiled and was gone.

  ***

  Mike Lazarus received her with cordiality, ushering her into his gargantuan office handsomely furnished with French antique furniture of the Empire period and priceless works of art.

  ‘Come and sit over here, Katharine my dear,’ Lazarus intoned, leading her to a seating arrangement composed of sofas and chairs covered in fir-green cut velvet. Hanging on the wall above these rather overblown pieces was a Rubens of incalculable worth. Katharine eyed the painting surreptitiously, instantly hated it, chose to sit on the sofa where it was out of her fine of vision.

  ‘Thank you for seeing me, Michael,’ she said.

  ‘My pleasure.’ He poured champagne, carried the flutes over to the coffee table on a small silver tray. ‘Especially since you are looking so fit, my dear.’

  He took a seat opposite her, his eyes rapidly appraising her from head to toe. He could not conceal his astonishment, nor did he attempt to do so. ‘You are very beautiful, Katharine. Quite remarkable under the circumstances.’

  ‘Thank you. I must say, you look well yourself, Michael.’ She spoke the truth. Lazarus, who was sixty-eight, had retained his muscular, sturdy appearance, seemed to be in robust health. Yet he had visibly aged. She regarded him with impassivity, struck by the immense hardness in the man, which had only been magnified by time, and conscious of the controlled power, the dark stealth that surrounded him.

  The pale cold eyes, sharp with calculation, watched her. Most people trembled in his presence. He did not frighten her one iota. ‘Did you receive the letter and the reports from Dr Moss?’ she asked, deciding to waste no time.

  ‘Indeed I did, my dear. And I’m delighted to know you have made such a miraculous recovery.’

  She smiled sweetly. ‘I’m not sure one could call it miraculous, Mike. It’s taken a number of years.’

  ‘Yes, yes.’ He lifted his glass. ‘To your continued health, my dear.’

  ‘And yours.’ She took only a tiny sip, placed the flute on the onyx table. ‘I’d like to see Vanessa. You always said I could when I was really better. I am.’

  Lazarus nodded, steepled his fingers, looked excessively ponderous. ‘I don’t know… I think perhaps you ought to get settled first, find an apartment, establish yourself. I hate to think that we might start a relationship between the two of you, only to find it crumbling. It would be very upsetting to the child if she became fond of you and then you had—’

  ‘A relapse, Mike?’ Katharine interrupted softly, raising one perfectly shaped dark eyebrow. ‘Is that what you’re getting at?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  Katharine sat back, almost complacently, crossed her legs and clasped her hands in her lap. She met his cold visage unflinchingly and with an icy implacability that matched his. She said, ‘I am going to tell you a story, Michael. And when I have finished I hope you will not keep Vanessa from me any longer. If you do so, I’m afraid I will have no alternative but to start proceedings against you, resort to the law for visitation privileges. I realize you could keep me tied up legally for a great length of time. However, whether I win the suit or not is of no real consequence. Once those legal documents are processed by the courts they become public record, as you are well aware. They are available to anyone… I am thinking, in particular, of the press.’ A slow smile spread across her face and she paused to light a cigarette.

  He said curtly, ‘What of it?’

  Her smile intensified. ‘I don’t think I would have any trouble getting an enormous turn-out if I called a press conference. I have become a bigger superstar than I ever was, since I disappeared so mysteriously from the public eye. It always happens that way, doesn’t it? James Dean, Bogart, Marilyn Monroe, not to mention Garbo. My unavailability, my desire for total privacy has made me into a legend. My films are constantly replayed on television, and the Carnegie, here in New York, is about to have a week of Katharine Tempest classics.’

  ‘Get to the point,’ Lazarus snapped impatiently.

  ‘Imagine the coverage I would get if I told those sympathetic reporters of my yearning to see my only child… kept from me by you. It would—’

  ‘Don’t be so ridiculous. I won custody of Vanessa in a court of law. I did the only thing any father would do. I was thinking of the child. You were incapable of looking after her, or of even visiting her. Don’t you realize you would have to explain yourself, reveal where you have been these last few years. You would have to tell the press about your mental breakdown.’

  ‘Oh yes, I know I would,’ she said, not in the least ruffled. ‘I would also recount to them the story you are about to hear. When I finish that story your image will not only be irreparably damaged
, the general public will detest you. I wonder how that would affect Global-Centurion stock?’

  ‘Threats are not going to get you anywhere!’ he exclaimed angrily. ‘I receive you in the most pleasant manner, and you abuse—’

  ‘May I tell you the story?’

  His mouth tightened. ‘If you so wish.’

  ‘I do.’

  Twenty-five minutes later Michael Lazarus rose and went to his desk. He asked his secretary to telephone his apartment and replaced the receiver. He regarded Katharine through stunned eyes. In spite of the rosy glow from the lamps, his face looked grey and his whole body had visibly sagged. He was mesmerized by this beautiful composed woman sitting on his sofa, and when the telephone jangled he took a moment to answer it.

  ‘Hello, Brooks. Is Miss Vanessa there? Please let me speak to her. Thank you.’ He covered the mouthpiece, hissed, ‘If this is a—Hello, Vanessa. No, I’m not working late. I’ll be home for dinner. I called because I have a lovely surprise for you. Do you remember I told you last week that I’d heard from your mother’s doctor, and that she was much better?’ He listened, nodded, continued, ‘Well, my love, she’s so much better, she’s been able to travel to New York. She’s right here with me now in the office. She’s coming to see you.’ He listened again, smiled, said, ‘No, now. Immediately. Simpson will bring her over to visit with you for a short while.’ Another pause on his part. ‘Good. Yes, do. I’ll see you for dinner, Vanessa.’ He hung up. His hand rested on the receiver. ‘She wishes to change her dress. We have to give her a few minutes.’

  ‘Of course, Michael,’ Katharine smiled.

  He said, ‘If this is one of your tricks—’

  She held up her hand, and her expression reflected her disgust. ‘Do you honestly think I would lie about a thing like this?’

  He paled. ‘No, no. I’m sorry I made that remark. Excuse me.’

  Katharine was so startled to hear an apology from him she blinked. Mike Lazarus never apologized to anyone. She was even more taken aback when he came to the sofa, sat down, took her hand in his. ‘As a matter of fact, I am very sorry for so many things which have to do with you and me, Katharine.’

  She gently removed her hand after a moment, and said, ‘I hope you realize I won’t repeat what I’ve told you to a soul. I presume you wouldn’t want me to. After all, we don’t wish to hurt… anyone, do we? Cause them undue misery. Particularly a child.’

  ‘Vanessa? You can’t possibly tell her!’

  ‘I have no intention of doing so.’ Katharine stood up. ‘I shall go to see her now though.’

  ***

  Katharine was greeted at the door of the Lazarus triplex on Fifth Avenue by Brooks, the English butler, who had been the mainstay of the household for twenty years.

  ‘Hello, Madame, it’s lovely to see you,’ Brooks said, taking her coat.

  ‘It’s nice to see you too, Brooks.’

  ‘Thank you, Madame. Miss Vanessa’s waiting for you in the drawing room. Do you wish me to take you in to her, Mrs Lazarus?’

  ‘No, thank you, Brooks. I think I can find my way.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Lazarus. Would you like any refreshments?’

  Katharine shook her head. ‘No, not right now. Thank you, Brooks.’ He nodded, and she walked slowly across the entrance foyer. For the first time since she had come to New York, Katharine felt a stab of nervousness. Her legs trembled and her heart felt squeezed. She had almost reached the drawing room’s large double doors when they opened and an elfin child peeped out inquisitively. Large green eyes widened and the pretty mouth formed a perfectly round O, but the child made no sound.

  Katharine increased her pace, her face wreathed in smiles. ‘Hello, Vanessa,’ she said drawing to a standstill.

  ‘Hello,’ Vanessa’s eyes grew even bigger, and she opened the door wider. ‘Won’t you come in, please,’ she added solemnly.

  Katharine did so, and stood looking down at her daughter, her heart clattering, her eyes bright with happiness.

  Vanessa dropped a small curtsy and held out her hand. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you… Mother.’

  ‘Yes,’ Katharine answered softly. ‘But we’ve met before you know, when you were a very little girl.’ She clasped the small hand tightly in her own.

  ‘I remember… I’ve been waiting for you.’

  ‘Your father thought I should give you time to change your dress.’

  ‘Oh I don’t mean now I mean I’ve been waiting for you to come back, ever since then, when I was a very little girl. It’s taken you a long time.’

  The tears rushed to Katharine’s eyes and she had to look away quickly. She choked them back, immediately swung her gaze to Vanessa. ‘And I’ve been waiting to come back to you too, darling. Shall we go and sit down?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Vanessa, who was still clinging to Katharine’s hand, led her across the room. ‘You sit there, and I’ll sit here, and we can look at each other for a long time, Mother. That’s much better than looking at a photograph, isn’t it?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Katharine agreed, striving to keep her composure. She met the unabashed bright green gaze head-on, relaxed against the cushions and allowed herself to be minutely and painstakingly scrutinized. Her daughter was small and delicately made, as she herself was, and the face staring at Katharine was a childlike miniature version of her own, except for the dusting of freckles across the nose and the cheeks. But unlike Katharine, Vanessa had her maternal grandmother’s vivid colouring. Her curly hair was the same burnished red-gold as Rosalie O’Rourke’s had been, her eyes an identical tourmaline hue. Katharine had always been struck by this resemblance when Vanessa had been a baby, but it was even more pronounced in the eleven-year-old girl. She has a look of Ryan also, Katharine commented silently. She’s an O’Rourke through and through.

  After a great deal of assessing, Vanessa confided, ‘Daddy has always said you are beautiful, and I knew you were, because I’ve seen all your movies. But you’re much more beautiful in person.’

  ‘Thank you for your lovely compliment, darling. I think you’re beautiful too.’

  ‘Do you really?’ Vanessa sounded doubtful, eyed Katharine carefully, her head cocked to one side. ‘If only I could get rid of these freckles I’d feel much better. I’ve tried all kinds of lotions but they’re just stuck. Do you think they’ll ever go away?’

  Katharine could not resist smiling at Vanessa’s mournful tone. ‘They might, but I doubt it. Anyway, I like them. They’re very distinctive, you know.’ Katharine nodded, adopted an appropriately solemn air. ‘If I were you, I’d try to keep them, Vanessa. Freckles are a mark of great beauty. Helen of Troy had freckles,’ Katharine improvised, then went on, ‘and she had such a gorgeous face, it launched a thousand ships.’

  Vanessa looked both impressed and delighted. ‘Pooh! I didn’t know! Perhaps I’d better not use any more of those icky lotions and creams. I’m glad you’re not a big tall person. The girls at school call me shrimplet, that’s smaller than a shrimp, and I hate it. But now I can tell them you’re a shrimplet too, can’t I?’

  ‘Yes,’ Katharine laughed. ‘Well, it’s the first time I’ve ever been called that, but I rather like it.’

  ‘So do I then.’ Vanessa’s smile slipped away and gravity settled in its place. ‘Why did you wait so long to come back?’ she asked with unnerving forthrightness.

  ‘I was very sick, darling. I had to get better first.’

  ‘What was wrong with you?’

  ‘Hasn’t your father told you?’ Katharine hedged.

  ‘Yes, he said you were in a nursing home because you were tired. But that didn’t sound right to me. I mean, how can you have been tired for nine years. Don’t you sleep well?’

  ‘I didn’t, but I do now. I had a nervous breakdown actually, darling.’

  ‘Did it hurt?’

  ‘Yes, a little bit. In my head. But the pains have gone. I’m cured.’

  ‘I’m glad.’ Vanessa thought hard, then said, ‘Did you
have to see a shrink?’

  ‘Yes, Vanessa. Do you… do you know about shrinks… psychiatrists?’

  ‘Oh sure,’ she said off-handedly, looked unconcerned again. ‘Now that you’ve come back, how long are you going to stay?’

  ‘I’m going to live in New York. Permanently.’

  ‘Hey, that’s neat! Then I’ll be able to see you all the time, won’t I?’ she cried, her elfin face lighting up with happiness. It instantly fell. ‘You’re sure you’re not going away again?’

  ‘No, I’m not. I’m staying in America,’ Katharine reassured her. She added gently, ‘Of course how often I see you depends on your father.’

  ‘Oh don’t worry about Mike. He’s no problem.’ She looked at her mother, wrinkled her nose. ‘You haven’t said you like my dress. I put it on for you. Specially for you. It’s my favourite.’

  ‘It’s beautiful, darling, and green is the loveliest colour on you. It echoes your eyes. Stand up, turn around, let me look at you,’ Katharine smiled. She was enjoying this effervescent, completely natural and confident little girl. It was a small miracle she was so unspoiled.

  Vanessa was parading up and down, doing small pirouettes. ‘I love velvet… Mother. Do you?’

  ‘Yes. Particularly wine velvet.’

  Vanessa stopped modelling, ran to the sofa and flopped down next to Katharine. She looked up at her, the gravity in place again. ‘I used to be mad at you sometimes. You know, for leaving me. But I think I understand now. You couldn’t help it, could you?’

  ‘Oh my darling, no, of course I couldn’t. I wouldn’t have left you, not for anything in the whole world. You’re my baby.’ Katharine reached out and touched Vanessa’s cheek lovingly. ‘You’re the very best part of me, my darling.’ Katharine felt the tears stinging the back of her eyes and she opened her arms to her daughter. Vanessa came into them swiftly, clung to her with a child’s tenacity. Katharine stroked her bright and shining hair. ‘I’ve loved you more than you’ll ever know,’ Katharine told her. ‘Since the very first minute you were born.’ As she raised her eyes, blinking, Katharine saw Mike Lazarus in the doorway, watching them. She released Vanessa, said, ‘Here’s your father.’