The host, Juan Delgado, was in full drag. His long Schiaparelli gown trailed the floor behind him. “And I suppose you’re going to be the one who leads them there?” he asked sarcastically.
“Damn right I am,” Shiki retorted.
“Horseshit!” Juan snapped. “You haven’t even got enough money to pay your fare on the Métro.”
“That’s how much you know,” Shiki retorted with a superior air. “Just this morning I signed the papers which will make me independent for life.”
“Now, I’ll tell one,” Juan said.
“I’ll prove it,” Shiki said, looking around the room. He saw Maurice and Jerry Johnson standing near the bar. “Come with me.”
Juan followed him across the room. Shiki stopped in front of Maurice. “Juanita doesn’t believe that we made a deal. Tell him.
Maurice was puzzled. “What deal?”
Delgado chortled. “I told you you were full of shit. He doesn’t even know what you’re talking about. You have to be stoned out of your head.”
“I’m never that stoned,” Shiki said, standing on his dignity as much as his four feet nine inches would allow. He turned back to Maurice. “I signed the papers this morning with your man, Schwebel. It’s with one of your companies. Tanya Parfums or something like that.”
“That’s one of my wife’s companies,” Maurice said. “I have nothing to do with that. It’s all her affair.” He looked at Shiki curiously. “You say Schwebel signed the papers? Where was Tanya?”
Shiki was surprised. “I thought you knew. She went to the clinic last night to have your baby.”
“Last night?” Maurice was incredulous. “She wasn’t expecting for another two weeks yet.”
Delgado broke up. He turned to the room, announcing in a loud voice, “Our good friend, the marquis, is about to have a baby and his wife hasn’t even bothered to inform him.” He paused for a moment. “But, then, why should she? She never even bothered telling him that she was making a baby when she was off fucking that American.”
“You son of a bitch!” Maurice said angrily. “Why don’t you just suck my cock?”
Juan fell to his knees on the floor before him. He held up his hand in mock prayer. “Thank you, God,” he said, rolling his eyes heavenward. “You’ve just made my dreams come true.”
Maurice shoved him and he rolled backward on the floor, laughing, while Maurice, followed by Jerry, stalked angrily from the party.
It was two o’clock in the morning when they got out of the car in front of the small private clinic. They crossed the deserted sidewalk and pressed the night bell. Maurice tried the door impatiently. It was locked. He put his finger on the bell and kept it there.
A few moments later a sleepy concierge opened the door. “Monsieur, Monsieur,” he protested. “Patience. There are sick people in here.” He looked around behind them. “Where is she?”
“She?” Maurice asked. “Who?”
“The patient,” the concierge answered. “This is a maternity clinic. Only expectant fathers ring the bell like that at night.”
“My wife is already here,” Maurice snapped. “I want to see her.”
The concierge began to close the door. “Impossible, Monsieur. Visiting hours are finished at ten o’clock. Come back in the morning.”
Maurice put his foot in the door, blocking it. “I want to see her now. I insist. I am the Marquis de la Beauville.”
“I don’t care if you’re Charles De Gaulle,” the concierge said. “You come back in the morning.”
A banknote appeared in Maurice’s hand. “If you would be kind enough to speak to the head nurse,” he said in a more reasonable voice, “I would appreciate it.”
The banknote disappeared in the concierge’s pocket as quickly as it had appeared. “If Monsieur would be kind enough to wait. I will return in a moment.”
The door closed, and Maurice and Jerry stood there. “Maybe we should come back in the morning,” Jerry said.
“No. We’ll see her tonight.” Maurice’s voice was tight.
The door opened again. This time a gray-haired nurse in a heavily starched uniform stood next to the concierge. “I am sorry, Monsieur,” she began to explain. “But the rules—”
Maurice interrupted her. “I know the rules, Sister. But please take mercy on a poor man who just at this moment arrived back in Paris and longs only for a moment’s glimpse of his wife and child.”
The second banknote in Maurice’s hand disappeared into the pocket of the starched uniform. “Very well, Monsieur,” she said, admitting them into the hallway. “But we must be very quiet.
They followed her down the long hospital-smelling corridor and stopped outside a room. She turned to look at them. “Madame la Marquise had a very difficult labor. We have given her very heavy sedation and she is sleeping. You can look in from the doorway but please do not enter.”
Maurice nodded. The nurse opened the door. There was a very dim light in the room. He peered past her. Tanya was lying in the bed, her eyes closed. Even in the small light, Maurice could see her face was pale and drawn. He stepped back and turned to the nurse. “And the baby?” he whispered.
“The nurse closed the door softly. “Follow me, Monsieur.”
They walked down to the end of the corridor and turned right. They stopped in front of a large double-paned window. Looking through the window they could see about seven or eight tiny cribs on small wheels, a baby in each.
Maurice looked at the nurse. “Which one is mine?”
“Just a moment, Monsieur,” the nurse said. “I will go into the room and hold her up so that you can see her.”
“Her?” Maurice’s voice was incredulous. “You mean it’s a girl?”
The nurse smiled. “Yes, Monsieur, the most beautiful girl you ever saw. Golden ringlets of hair the color of the sun, the bluest eyes that sparkle like aquamarines and will be blue all through her life. Wait just a moment, you will see for yourself.”
She left them to enter the nursery. But when she came to the window with the child in her arms, they were already gone.
Maurice drove wildly through the deserted streets. “The bitch!” he swore angrily. “The bitch! She couldn’t even do that right!”
“Take it easy,” Jerry said. “Or you’ll get us both killed.”
“The least she could have done was have a boy.” Maurice was still angry. “Someone to carry on the name. But no, another fucking cunt! Blond and blue-eyed on top of it all. Paris will break up with laughter. There has never been a blue-eyed blonde in the seven-hundred-year history of my family.”
“What difference does it make?” Jerry asked. “Everyone knows it’s not your child anyway.”
“That makes it even worse,” Maurice said. “They all know the only reason I stayed with her was to get a son.”
He raced across the small bridge over the Seine to the Ile Saint-Louis and down the narrow streets to a stop in front of their apartment. He got out of the car and slammed the door angrily. “The bitch!” he swore again. “I’ll make her pay for this. You’ll see.”
Dr. Pierre came into the room. He stopped at the side of the bed and looked down at her. “How are you feeling?” He smiled.
“Tired,” she said.
He shrugged. “That’s normal.” Quickly he checked her heart, pulse and blood pressure. “You’re okay.”
“And the baby?” she asked.
“Perfect,” he answered. “One couldn’t ask for anymore. You fed her this morning?”
“Yes.”
“Good. We’ll put her on a formula for lunch. She’ll have that every other feeding time for a few days, then when she’s adjusted to it, we’ll take her off the breast completely.”
“How long will that take?” she asked.
“Three, four days.
“I don’t want my breasts to get too large,” she said.
“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled. “I’ll give you a series of shots that will stop the lactation and brin
g your breasts back to normal in no time.”
“How long do I have to stay in here?”
“About a week. Then you’ll be able to go home.”
“I have a lot to do,” she said.
“It will wait. Your health is more important. But you can begin walking around a little this afternoon. Just don’t overtire yourself.” He snapped his small medical bag closed. “I’ll be back this evening before you go to sleep.”
“Thanks, Doctor Pierre.”
The chief night nurse came into the room just as he left. “Bon jour, Madame la Marquise.” She smiled.
“Bon jour, Soeur.”
“I just came by to see how you were.”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“By the way,” the nurse said, “did anyone tell you that your husband was here?”
Tanya was surprised. “No. No one mentioned it. When?”
“Two nights ago,” she said. “It was about two in the morning. The reason I didn’t say anything was because yesterday was my day off.”
“Did he see the baby?”
“No. Funny, because when I went to show her to him, he had already gone.”
Tanya was silent.
“Don’t worry about it,” the nurse said in what she thought was a comforting manner. “I’ve seen that happen many times with husbands. Frenchmen are always upset when they get a daughter instead of a son. But he’ll come around, you’ll see.”
Tanya forced a smile and nodded.
The nurse looked at her watch. “I’ve got to go now and get some sleep. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Thank you, Soeur.”
The door closed again. Tanya looked across the room. The flowers on the dresser were from Johann. Another vase filled with roses had come from Jacques. So Maurice had been here. Strange that there had been no word from him. Not that she expected him to send flowers. There was another knock on the door. “Entrez.”
Johann came into the room followed by Jacques. Both were carrying more flowers. They smiled as they approached the bed. “You look marvelous,” Jacques said.
“Don’t tell me,” she said. “I look awful and I know it.”
“No, really,” Johann said. “You look wonderful.”
“You’re both prejudiced.” She laughed. She looked up at them. “What brings you both here this early in the morning?”
“We have two problems,” Johann said. “We need your decision before we can do anything.”
“Bien,” she said. “What’s the first?”
Jacques spoke. “We have to make a public announcement about our deal with Shiki. He wants to do it immediately. I want to wait at least a month for several reasons. One, because you’ll be in shape to appear with him at the press conference. I think it’s very important that we establish immediately your presence in the concern. Two, because it will bring us that much closer to the showings for the fall season and will spark a great deal of interest and publicity to see exactly what we come up with.”
Tanya’s voice was definite. “I’ll go with your plan. Tell Shiki we’ll make the announcement later. Now, what’s the second problem?”
They glanced at each other a moment, then Johann spoke. “It’s Maurice again. Jacques tells me that he’s going all over Paris saying that he’s filing for divorce on the grounds of adultery.”
She looked at Jacques.
He nodded. “That’s what I’ve heard. Not just once, but many times.”
She thought for a moment. ‘I don’t see where it matters,” she said. “Originally I wanted a divorce anyway. If he files, let him have it.”
“It could get complicated,” Johann said. “He’s also claiming that you fraudulently misstated the assets of the companies in making him accept the mineral-water corporation.”
“Did you talk to the lawyers?” she asked.
Johann nodded. “He can’t make it stick but it can create problems. Just from a public-relations point of view.”
She turned to Jacques. “Do you think you can contain it?”
“I won’t be able to keep it out of the papers,” Jacques said. “But I think I can get you a fair amount of space to counter his stories. After all, he’s not exactly a closet queen. If we let him know that we plan to open the door wide, maybe he’ll have second thoughts.”
She nodded. “Okay. Make sure that he hears we’re going to do that. Meanwhile ask my lawyers to file a countersuit for divorce, charging him with pederasty, and have it ready to serve the moment he files against me.”
Johann looked at her. “You don’t need this. You have enough to do.”
“There’s nothing we can do about it,” she said. “It’s one of the facts of life.”
“I suppose so,” he answered. “Have you spoken to Janette yet?”
She shook her head. “She still won’t take my calls. I told her friend Marie-Thérése to tell her that she has a sister.”
“Have you decided on a name for the baby yet?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “I’m going to call her—Lauren.”
“Lauren? That’s a strange name.”
“It’s after my grandmother. My father’s mother. She was American and I always loved her name. When I was little I used to pretend that it was mine.”
Marie-Thérése came into their room “The headmistress wants to see you.”
Janette looked up from her book. “What for?”
“She didn’t say. Just come down right away.”
Janette closed the book and put it down. “I’ll see what the old biddy wants and be right back.”
Janette knocked at the office door and then went in. The headmistress was seated behind her desk. A man, his back toward the door, was seated opposite her. As the door opened, he rose to his feet, turning to face Janette.
“Bon jour, Janette,” Maurice said.
Janette stared at him for a moment, then she curtsied as school protocol demanded. “Bon jour, Papa.”
The headmistress smiled. She was fluttery as usual when parents were around. “Your father has come to take you down to Paris to see your mother and your new baby sister. Isn’t that nice?”
Janette looked from one to the other. “I won’t go. I have too much studying to do.”
“But your mother wants to see you,” Maurice said. “She’s still in the clinic.”
“I don’t want to see her,” Janette said defiantly.
“That’s no way to talk to your father,” the headmistress said sharply.
“I won’t go,” Janette repeated stubbornly.
Maurice’s hand moved quickly, the slap stinging her cheek sharply. She met his eyes for a moment, then her gaze fell to the floor. She felt the flush creeping into her cheek, its warmth radiating through her. She stood there absolutely motionless.
“Now go upstairs and pack a few things and be down here in ten minutes,” Maurice said with authority.
She did not raise her head, her eyes still cast downward. “Yes,” she murmured, then turned and left the room.
Maurice turned back to the headmistress. He smiled apologetically. “I regret the display, Madame, but children today need a firm hand. They’re not like we were when we were young.”
“I understand, Monsieur le Marquis,” the headmistress gushed. “You wouldn’t believe some of the things we have to go through with them.”
The conductor examined their tickets, then handed them back to Maurice. “Everything is in order, Monsieur le Marquis,” he said. “The dining car will be open for dinner at six o’clock. If there is anything I can do to make your journey more comfortable, please call on me.”
“Merci, Monsieur,” Maurice said, giving him a banknote.
Deftly the conductor palmed it and left the private compartment, closing the door carefully behind him. They sat on opposite banquettes next to the window. Maurice picked up a newspaper and looked over at her. “Might as well make yourself comfortable,” he said. “We’re not due to arrive in Paris until midnight.”
&n
bsp; Janette looked out the window. The train was beginning to wend its way through the mountains. Though it was three o’clock in the afternoon, there wasn’t much light. The day had been overcast with clouds and occasional showers. She reached for a book, opened it and began to read. But her eyes skimmed the pages and the words did not make much sense. After a while she just gave up and pretended to be reading.
They had been traveling almost an hour in silence. Finally Maurice put down his paper and stood up. He went to the small toilet compartment and opened the door. He didn’t bother closing it as he lifted the toilet seat and stood there relieving himself.
Janette looked up from her book. The inside of the toilet door was a full-length mirror and the angle of the door was such that she could see the water gushing from him as if from a giant garden hose. At the same moment, he turned his head and caught her eyes in the mirror. She dropped her gaze immediately, feeling the flush creeping up into her cheeks. She kept her eyes steadfastly on the pages of the book as he came back and sat down opposite her.
Silently he took a cigarette from his gold case, lit it and sat there studying her. She was still wearing the school uniform—white middy blouse and blue skirt. Knee-length white socks and black shoes completed the picture. But here in the dim light of the compartment it seemed incongruous. Already she had the full figure of a woman, and it seemed as if she were trying to hide the fact in child’s clothing.
“Janette.” His voice was sharp. “Are you wearing the underwear I gave you?”
She didn’t look at him. “No.”
“Why not?” he asked. “Didn’t I tell you to always wear it when I’m around?”
“It’s against school regulations.”
“You’re not in school now,” he said. “You should have put them on.”
She looked at him. “You didn’t give me time. I had to be ready in ten minutes.”
“Do you have them with you?”
Harold Robbins Thriller Collection Page 59
