Inherit the Skies

by Janet Tanner

  surrendering the things of youth.

  … in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your

  soul. With all its sham and drudgery and broken

  dreams it is still a beautiful world.

  Desiderata

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Alicia, Countess von Brecht, had slept late.

  Every morning for the past ten years Irene, her maid, had awakened her at seven with a pot of Earl Grey tea and whilst she was drinking it Alicia planned her day, beginning with the decision whether or not to take breakfast in bed, which clothes she should ask Irene to lay out for her and where and with whom she would lunch. Then she would open her mail, scan the headlines of the Telegraph, and take a leisurely bath.

  When Irene tapped on the bedroom door on the morning after the catastrophic meeting at Rules, however, there was no immediate reply and when she opened the door, balancing the tray expertly on the flat of her hand as she did so, Alicia, who was still wearing her midnight blue satin sleep mask, gave no sign of having heard her.

  Irene’s heart almost stopped beating and with a great leap of panic she wondered if Alicia had died in her sleep. She had not been herself yesterday and at her age one never knew … As she hovered anxiously in the doorway she saw Alicia’s hand move in a gesture of dismissal before it dropped back once more onto the soft fawn fur of Ming, curled up on the bed beside her, and Alicia murmured:

  ‘Leave me a little longer, Irene. I haven’t slept well.’

  Relieved but puzzled Irene withdrew. She was exceedingly curious as to what had happened yesterday to upset the Countess so. There had been no mistaking her distress when she had returned, much earlier than expected, from her luncheon appointment and she had spent the rest of the day pacing her small sitting-room, smoking so many Black Russians that Irene had had to open all the windows to clear the fug out of the air after she had gone to bed, and merely picking at the dainty supper Irene had prepared for her. It was all very unlike the Countess and Irene would have given a good deal to know what was wrong. But she was not paid to ask questions. In all the years she had been with her the Countess had never encouraged the slightest familiarity and Irene knew she would not do so now.

  An hour later she made a fresh pot of tea and tried again, this time with more success. As she set the tray down on the bedside table Alicia stirred, removing the sleep mask and blinking as the cold light of the March morning struck her eyes.

  ‘Thank you, Irene. Leave it there would you?’ She raised herself on the ivory silk pillows, massaging her face awake with scarlet-tipped fingers.

  ‘Yes, Madam.’

  ‘And then you can run my bath. God, how I hate sleeping late! It makes one so wooden!’

  Irene thought that few women of seventy-five would have considered sleeping until eight to be an extraordinary thing to do but of course she did not say so. Her friends thought it odd that after all these years in her service Irene had not struck up something of a relationship with her employer but Irene was a solitary soul herself and the situation suited her. The Countess did look very pale and strained though … Irene experienced another stab of anxiety. Quite apart from a genuine respect she had developed for Alicia over the years – one did not use the term ‘fondness’ in connection with the Countess – Irene knew she would be out of a job if anything happened to her employer and positions as ladies’ maids were few and far between nowadays. Irene sighed inwardly. Just a few more years and then she would be able to retire herself …

  ‘Is there any mail for me today, Irene?’ Alicia asked, sipping the aromatic tea.

  ‘Yes, Madam, on the tray …’ Irene caught at herself, frowning slightly. ‘ I am sorry, Madam, I must have left them in the kitchen …’ She hurried out. The letters had certainly been on the first tray as they always were, she must have forgotten to replace them when she made the fresh tea. How unlike her – especially since she knew only too well the Countess’s habit of opening her mail as early as possible in the day. At one time the postman had changed his round so that the first post was several hours later in arriving – but a telephone call from Alicia to the Post Office had soon set that to rights! Clearly her anxiety about the Countess’s health was affecting her more than she had realised.

  She fetched the pile of envelopes and took them back to Alicia who leafed through them immediately. Most of them, Irene suspected, were in connection with the various charities Alicia chaired, and several, well-disguised though they were, suggested accounts. But when sorting them Irene had noticed that one was handwritten and bore an Australian stamp, and now Alicia homed in on this envelope, putting the others down on the counterpane beside Ming’s enquiring nose and ripping it open with the narrow bladed paper knife which lay on her bedside table.

  Irene smiled to herself as she went into the bathroom and emptied a sachet of salts into the stream of scalding water. She had recognised the writing at once. It belonged to the Countess’s grandson, David Bailey. After a short spell as a total drop-out – a ‘ hippy’ Irene believed she had heard the type referred to – he had joined the Countess’s family firm of aeroplane manufacturers and had spent the last year in Australia, home of one of the overseas divisions. Whilst he had been there he had written periodically to his grand-mother and the letters never failed to put her in a good humour. Perhaps this one would make her snap out of whatever was troubling her, Irene thought hopefully.

  Above the rushing of the water she thought she heard a cry. Alarmed she hurried back into the bedroom in time to see Alicia turning back the covers and getting out of bed whilst a disgruntled Ming, resentful at being disturbed so suddenly, yapped furiously from the centre of the Chinese rug.

  ‘Madam! What is it? Not bad news, I hope? In her agitation Irene almost forgot the unwritten rule of impersonality.

  One glance at Alicia’s face told her she need not worry. The Countess no longer looked tired and strained. There was a sparkle in her violet eyes and her lips, still stained from the scarlet lipstick she always wore, curved up into a wide smile.

  ‘Bad news? Certainly not! The only bad news is that I have overslept. Is my bath ready, Irene? Good! I haven’t a moment to waste. My grandson is coming to visit me – this morning, probably. And I would hate him to find me looking like a tired old woman!’

  Irene smiled, turning off the taps and testing the foamy water.

  ‘But I thought your grandson was in Australia, Madam.’

  ‘He was, Irene, he was. But not any more. He flew back to England yesterday. Today he is going down to Bristol to our main works. And before he goes he is stopping off to pay me a visit. The water is not too hot, is it? You know if I have it too hot it will make me feel faint. Good. Now you may get my breakfast ready downstairs – a grapefruit and some dry toast, I think. I will be down in approximately half an hour. Well, what are you waiting for? Didn’t you hear me say there is no time to waste?’

  ‘Yes, Madam,’ Irene said, unable to suppress a smile of relief.

  That was much more like the Countess! Perhaps whatever it was that was worrying her was not so serious after all – or at least not serious enough to spoil her pleasure at the prospect of seeing her grandson again. Crusty she might be, difficult and autocratic she certainly was, but Irene was only too pleased to have the old Alicia back!

  The ornate anniversary clock, one of the few pieces of Klaus’s collection which Alicia had kept, began to chime and Alicia, seated in the wing chair with Ming curled up on her knee, glanced at it. Eleven o’clock. Surely David would be here soon? Of course it was possible that like her he had overslept – and with more reason for he was probably jetlagged after the long flight from Melbourne. But she could not imagine that jetlag would bother a young man of his age unduly, and if he was expected in Bristol today then he should be leaving London fairly soon. He would be flying down in his own light aircraft but even so … Alicia cast her mind back again to his letter, remembering it word for word, for in spite of her age her memory was as good
as ever.

  ‘I tried to telephone you, Grandmother, but you were out – at one of your charity functions, I expect,’ David had written. ‘Anyway, I arrive at Heathrow at 10.30 pm provided the flight is not delayed and I shall stay overnight at the Post House. The following day I am expected in Bristol but I shall have a few hours to spare and should like to call on you if it is convenient.’

  Alicia’s lips curved a little at this. Convenient! Just as if it wouldn’t be! She was always ready to see David – he was one of the few people with whom she never felt impatient or irritable – and really his visit today could not have been better timed. David was the one person who might have some idea what his father was up to and whether there was any truth in what Sarah had said. In fact, now that she came to think of it, the very fact that David had been recalled seemed pertinent. Perhaps there was something afoot – and Guy wanted David here when things developed.

  Alicia’s eyes narrowed, the anxiety that had kept her awake half the night closing in again. All very well for her to have taken umbrage and walked out on Sarah – with all the years of hatred to goad her that part had been easy. What was not so easy was to dismiss her allegations. A determined, dangerous woman Sarah might be, Alicia had never known her to make trouble for trouble’s sake. In all these years whilst she and Guy had worked side by side on the board Alicia had never so much as set eyes on her. There had been differences before – she had sometimes heard of them second hand – but never had Sarah approached her in this way and although Alicia had tried to tell herself that Sarah had called the meeting for some ulterior motive of her own yet she knew in her heart that this was not the case. Sarah had had a good reason for appealing to her, deep down Alicia knew it, and it was this certainty that had kept her awake through the long hours of the night.

  Unthinkable that Guy, her own son, should betray her by selling out to her old enemy Leo de Vere! Unthinkable! Yet why should Sarah invent such a story if there were no truth in it?

  Alicia’s brows drew together in a fine straight fine and a tiny frown puckered her smooth forehead. Why was it that every encounter she had ever had with Sarah had proved to be so upsetting? Whenever she put in an appearance trauma followed – it had always been so and it seemed it always would. But this latest was more than mere emotional stress. It rattled not only at the foundations of her own personal world but at those of the company. And the company, like the great living beast it was, must be protected.

  The doorbell jangled, the sound carrying clearly up the stairs to the sitting-room, and Alicia brightened, listening eagerly for the sound of her grandson’s voice. At her wrists and temples her pulses had begun to race and she realised how afraid she had been that something might have occurred to prevent him coming. Ridiculous! she thought with that hint of self-deprecation that had always leavened her character. Ridiculous to set so much store by one little visit. But then at her age the pleasures left to her were fewer than they had once been and most of the visitors who came to her sitting-room now were elderly ladies like herself but without any of her wealth of experiences to make them interesting. Alicia had joined their ranks gracefully but her outward appearance of gentlewomanly respectability hid a spirit as free as it had ever been and a yearning for just a little excitement in what was now an uneventful life. David was young and vigorous – the prospect of an hour of his company cheered her as it offered a vicarious window on his world.

  When she heard the footsteps on the stairs she put Ming down so as to go and greet him but in telling Irene he would see himself up then taking the stairs two at a time he was too quick for her. As she rose from her chair he appeared in the doorway and the fast beating pulse arrested for a moment.

  ‘David!’ she said warmly and thought: my God; how like Father he is! for indeed it might almost have been a young Gilbert standing there in the doorway.

  The resemblance had always been there, of course, undeniable even when he was a child, but it had been masked somewhat during what Alicia referred to as his ‘hippy phase’. Now however with the return to conventionality the likeness was almost uncanny in spite of the casual sweater and denims, and the once flowing locks, trimmed to a neat and almost Edwardian style, actually heightened the illusion.

  ‘Grandmother!’ He came towards her, almost sweeping her off her feet with a great hug and the happiness welled in her once again. Nobody but David had hugged her for years. Certainly not Guy, his father, who kissed her politely and dutifully but with a slight impatience that told her he had many other things on his mind, all ranking far higher than her in importance.

  When he released her she took his hands, holding him there for a moment.

  ‘David, it is so good to see you! And just look at you! You seem to have grown even taller – or perhaps it is me shrinking. That happens to old people, you know.’

  ‘Old? You?’ He laughed.

  ‘I am over seventy,’ she reminded him.

  ‘But certainly not old. And not shrunken, either.’

  ‘If you say so,’ she conceded, pleased. ‘Now, Irene will be bringing us coffee at any moment so let’s sit down, shall we? I want to know all about Australia. What did you think of it?’

  ‘It’s a wonderful country.’ He waited until she sat down then settled his long frame into the matching wing chair opposite. ‘The works is in Victoria, of course, but I managed to fit in a spot of travelling whilst I was there. I had a couple of weeks up in Queensland, enjoying the surf beaches and exploring the Great Barrier Reef and I got over to Sydney for a couple of trips. Oh – and the Red Centre, of course. I couldn’t spend a year in Oz and not go to the Red Centre.’

  ‘The Red Centre?’ Alicia raised one eyebrow questioningly.

  ‘The outback, Grandmother. Real desert outback where it never rains. Midway between Darwin and Melbourne and several days’ drive from either. I never did get time to do everything I wanted to, of course. I’d have loved to spend a couple of weeks in a camper van exploring the Territory and I never managed to get out west, to Perth, and it’s reputed to be beautiful over there. But primarily I was working so I was lucky to get about as much as I did, I guess.’

  ‘And how is Morse Bailey Australian Division?’ Alicia asked.

  ‘Alive and well. It certainly managed to keep me busy. And I learned quite a lot.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Such as you have to let your blokes go in time for them to grab a few beers in the pub before they go home.’

  ‘David!’

  ‘True. Closing time is six o’clock so if they didn’t make a dash for it they’d be too late. The six o’clock swill, they call it.’

  ‘Disgusting – and I hardly think relevant to the running of an international company.’

  ‘Wrong, Grandmother. It’s very important indeed. You have to keep the workforce happy or you’d never get anything done.’ He grinned, a young and mischievous version of Gilbert’s smile. Alicia’s heart turned over. ‘Here’s the coffee,’ he said.

  ‘Oh yes. Thank you, Irene. Put it down there.’ Alicia indicated the low table that stood between them.

  ‘Shall I pour, Madam?’

  ‘No, thank you. We’ll do it ourselves.’ Alicia felt jealous of every second with her grandson. As Irene withdrew she leaned forward to set out the cups, smiling at him.

  ‘And now you have come back to put all you have learned into practice in Bristol,’ she said.

  ‘Yes. Dad thinks it’s time I did a stint here. And sorry though I am to leave Australia I suppose he is right. After all I am his son and heir.’ He said it unself-consciously, without the slightest suggestion of swagger or even pride. To David it was just a simple fact with which he had lived all his life, much as an heir apparent to the throne does. There were his uncles, of course, Roderick and Miles, but Guy had always treated them as an irrelevance and naturally his assessment had passed without question to his son. He liked Roderick and Miles, but Roderick he saw as a pale inferior to his own father and Miles was, by
his own admission, happiest in the testing sheds. Without a doubt it was David who was being groomed for great things, David who would one day head the empire. Unless, of course …

  Unless it falls into Leo de Vere’s hands, Alicia thought, and was again struck by a feeling close to disbelief. Surely Guy would not deliver the company into the hands of their oldest enemy? Quite simply it was incredible. And yet …

  Perhaps Roderick and Miles are getting too big for their boots and threatening David’s eventual succession, Alicia thought. Roderick, after all, now had twin sons of his own, even if they were as yet little more than babies, and Miles had recently married a very pretty but very ambitious young actress – a social climber, in Alicia’s opinion, and just the sort to cause trouble. Perhaps Leo de Vere had promised what the Morse Bailey board no longer could – or would – eventual autonomy for David. If that was the case then she could scarcely blame Guy.

  ‘Do you have any idea at all why he chose this moment to bring you back to England, David?’ she asked. Her voice was deliberately casual but she was watching his reaction closely and was disappointed by his shrug.

  ‘Because he thinks a year in Oz is enough, I suppose.’

  ‘Yes.’ She poured the coffee, passed him a cup and tried a different approach. ‘Has your father talked to you about developments in the business?’ she asked.

  Again his expression was ingenuous. ‘Developments? What developments, Grandmother?’

  She hesitated. Clearly he knew nothing. Well, it would be a pity to spoil his visit with fruitless discussion on a subject that was repugnant to her.

  ‘I really don’t know, David,’ she admitted. ‘You know I have practically nothing to do with the business these days. Your father manages my interest in it for me. But sometimes I think I should know a little more of what goes on. In fact I was just wondering … you are going to Bristol now, you say? I was just wondering whether I could come with you.’

  She saw the surprise in David’s face and understood. He knew she almost never went to Bristol. But he did not mention the fact, nor ask what was behind her unexpected decision.