Oriental Hotel

by Janet Tanner

  Neither man replied. Both, without admitting it, felt guilty that Elise should have stumbled upon what was happening in this way; both were stunned by the vehemence of her attack. Tucked away in the Cotswolds, looking after the gentler side of the business, she had allowed them to forget what a tigress she could be when aroused.

  As she left the office, an almost identical thought occurred to Elise. I had forgotten the feeling of power, she thought, forgotten the excitement of the deal that can make or break a company. And forgotten how passionately I can feel – how fierce I can be on behalf of those I care for, how deeply I have loved myself. Over the long years I had lost my awareness of the vulnerability of youth and forgotten how vital it is that a capacity for loving should not be wasted.

  But now that I have remembered, I must share that knowledge with Katy. For she must not make the mistake that I did.

  Outside at the kerb her Bentley was waiting, Evans standing patiently beside it. As Elise appeared he moved forward to open the door for her and she slipped into the luxurious interior, airconditioned against the heat of the summer evening.

  ‘Bartlett Mews, please, Evans,’ she said quietly, and as the car purred gently away to slide through the London traffic she sat back and pondered on her coming meeting with Katy.

  Chapter Four

  ‘Granny, this is a real treat! I couldn’t believe it when you said you were coming up to town tonight!’

  Katy, cool and lovely in a strappy camisole top and harem pants in palest lemon lawn, stood in the centre of her cluttered kitchen beaming her welcome at Elise.

  Around her, chaos reigned. Piles of books and magazines jostled vases of freesia, roses and sweet peas; unwashed dishes were stacked high on the draining board beside the orange peel from this morning’s freshly-squeezed oranges and the joint of lamb Katy was defrosting for a weekend supper party. Tidiness was not and never would be one of her attributes.

  ‘Sit down, Granny!’ Expansively Katy cleared a space on her kitchen bench of scrubbed pine. ‘Sorry about the mess – I don’t know where it all comes from.’

  ‘I didn’t even notice it,’ Elise lied. ‘You’re looking very brown, Katy.’

  ‘Yes, I am!’ Katy stretched out-slim tanned arms and looked at them with critical pride. ‘After the fortnight I had in Bermuda at the beginning of the summer, I was determined not to let all that lovely sunbathing go to waste and turn pasty white again. So every week when the sun hasn’t shone, I’ve treated myself to a topping-up at the solarium.’

  Elise laughed. ‘You haven’t needed to do that this week.’

  ‘No, it’s been gorgeous, hasn’t it? Not that I get much opportunity to be out in it. The gallery …’

  ‘Oh yes, how is the gallery?’ Elise asked.

  ‘Fine! I’ve sold two originals this week by a super new artist I found all by myself. And I’ve made an enormous profit on a print I picked up at auction for a song …’ She broke off, pushing her mane of rich brown hair behind her ear with an impatient gesture. ‘I’m sorry, Granny, going on about work When you must be starving. What can I get you to eat? How about some lamb? I could cut off a couple of slices from the end of this leg, I expect; it’s just about defrosted. And I’ve got courgettes in the fridge, and a punnet of fresh raspberries …’

  ‘Darling, no, really!’ Elise protested. ‘You know too much supper doesn’t agree with me these days. One meal a day is quite sufficient and I had that at lunch-time.’

  ‘A drink, then? Oh, I suppose Uncle Alex has topped you up pretty well?’

  ‘He tried!’ Elise agreed.

  ‘You mean I can’t get you anything? Oh, Granny, that’s ridiculous after you’ve come all this way.’

  Elise smiled. ‘ I’ll have a glass of wine, Katy, if you have it.’

  ‘Yes, of course. There’s the most enormous bottle of white plonk, or … have you tried Lambrusco? Light red, with bubbles that tickle your nose if you’re lucky!’

  ‘All right, I’ll try it,’ Elise said, smiling as she thought of the cellar of fine old wines and new season Beaujolais at Durscombe Park.

  ‘How’s Mummy?’ Katy asked, pouring wine into a glass and setting it down on the scrubbed pine table at Elise’s elbow. ‘Have you seen anything of her?’

  ‘Not a great deal,’ Elise confessed. She sipped the wine and was pleasantly surprised at its light, fruity flavour and the semi-sparkle that tickled on her tongue. ‘You know how it is with your mother, Katy. Horses, horses, horses!’

  ‘Yes, it’s not surprising I’m an only child, is it?’ Katy observed. ‘I’m amazed she found the time to have me. They talk about theatrical babies being born in a trunk in a dressing-room – with me, it was a loose-box, wasn’t it, with a vet in attendance!’

  Elise laughed. I laugh more in the few hours I spend with Katy than during all the rest of my time put together, she thought.

  ‘Mummy and her horses!’ Katy went on. ‘Do you remember how she used to rub embrocation on me every time I had a tumble? I must have reeked to high heaven! But the really awful thing was knowing I was disappointing her because I couldn’t be as interested in it all as she wanted me to be. I mean, it’s really nice to take a pony out through the woods on a good day. But not in all winds and weathers! And as for those awful horse shows and gymkhanas …’ She broke off, subdued momentarily by the memory of summer afternoons of torture, trying to win the cups and ribbons she knew were expected of her.

  ‘Katy …’ Elise hesitated, wondering how to bring the conversation around to the subject that was hovering over her consciousness, but her granddaughter appeared oblivious.

  ‘How long can you stay, Granny?’ she asked, her usual sparkle returning. ‘ You can have my bed for the night, if you like, and I’ll sleep on the sofa. That would save you driving home again the same day.’

  ‘It’s sweet of you, Katy – but no, I ought to get back tonight,’ Elise told her. ‘And in any case, there’s Evans to think of. I asked him to come back in an hour.’

  ‘An hour? Is that all? Oh, I’m sure he could have amused himself for much longer than that! Which reminds me – how is that dishy new gardener of yours – what’s his name? – Richardson?’

  Elise smiled. ‘He’s fine, though I must say the number of young ladies picnicking in our woods or taking strolls through the home meadows has noticeably increased. It will be a good thing when the weather cools down and he puts his shirt on again, if you ask me.’

  ‘Oh Granny, you wouldn’t tell him so, would you?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Elise hesitated, then continued smoothly, ‘Talking of dishy young men, I’m anxious to hear all about your new escort.’

  ‘Oh – you mean Gunther.’

  Was it her imagination, wondered Elise, or had some of the sparkle died in Katy’s eyes?

  ‘Yes, Gunther! You’ve been seeing a great deal of him, haven’t you?’

  ‘Have I? Yes, I suppose I have.’

  ‘So tell me about him.’ Elise sipped her wine, but above the rim of the glass her eyes were sharp and watchful.

  ‘Well, he’s doing some kind of deal with Daddy and Uncle Alex. I daresay you’ll get to hear all about it sooner or later. And he’s been taking me out – clubs, theatres, all the social bit – you know!’

  ‘I see. It’s very casual, is it?’ Elise asked, catching the hesitation before Katy replied.

  ‘Well … yes.’

  ‘When you said he was picking you up this evening, it sounded a little more serious,’ Elise pressed her.

  ‘Did it? Weil, maybe it is.’ Again the hesitation and this time Elise was sure that Katy’s sparkle had dimmed.

  ‘He’s really very nice, you know. Granny. I’m very fond of him. And he certainly knows how to treat a woman.’

  I’m sure he does, thought Elise. If he has not learned that by his age, then he never will!

  Aloud she said, ‘He’s a great deal older than you are, Katy.’

  Katy shrugged without replying, but the look
on her face alarmed Elise: a mulish look, stubborn, determined – but without the light that should be there if she really cared deeply for the man about whom she was talking.

  ‘How old did the papers say?’ she persisted. ‘Fifty-four? That’s quite a bit older than your father! Darling, I know it can have its attractions, but do be careful, please …’

  ‘Well, you’re a fine one to talk, I must say!’ Katy retaliated sharply. ‘How much older than you was Grandpa? I’ve heard you say he was nearly forty when you married him – and you were younger than I am now.’

  ‘Yes, I was seventeen,’ Elise said reflectively. ‘ But Katy …’

  ‘I know the difference between Gunter and me is greater, but the principle’s the same,’ Katy said reasonably. ‘Anyway, I’m only seeing him. At the moment, that’s all it is. Honestly!’

  At the moment. The words went home to Elise and she sighed as she read the deeper meaning behind them.

  The girl reached over, touching her arm.

  ‘Don’t worry, Granny! Look, I quite like Gunther, really I do. And if it’s going to help Daddy … I think things have been a bit sticky for him and they could get stickier. So just leave it to me, OK?’

  Elise’s heart sank. So she had been right: Katy was seeing Gunther not because she had chosen him but because it was what he wanted – part of his price, maybe, for throwing his weight behind the company. She could imagine him hinting that he would feel much more favourably disposed towards Sandersons with Katy’s charming company to encourage him. What else would he demand?

  It could be that he was interested in Sandersons merely because they were a prestigious firm. But it could be that the stakes for which he was playing included a young and beautiful wife.

  ‘Katy …’ Helplessly Elise searched for a way to express what she wanted to say: Don’t give yourself away for less than real love. Wait … for the person who can make your eyes sparkle the way they should, the person who starts a fire in you which can only be satisfied by being with them all the time. Wait, Katy, don’t rush, however good your reasons might seem to be. You have so much to give.

  But there was no way she could say all this. Close as they were, this barrier was too great to surmount with mere words. As if reading her distress Katy stood up, reaching for the bottle of wine and pouring some more into her glass.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, drink up. Granny.’ Her voice was bright now, if slightly forced. ‘You can sleep all the way home if you want to! And if Daddy and Uncle Alex make you this morose, I should stay away from them. Just come and see me more often. Right?’

  ‘I wish I could,’ Elise said. ‘Selfish that I am, I just wish you were nearer, Katy.’

  ‘Pooh! Two hours in the car, what’s that?’ Katy teased.

  ‘For someone who travelled the world the way you did, it hardly counts as a trip to the shops. Do you know, when I was a little girl there was nothing I liked better than hearing you talk about faraway places. Hong Kong, Cairo, Singapore …’

  ‘That’s a long time ago now,’ Elise said, thinking: was it really me who travelled to all those places? It seems now as if it was someone else …

  For a while they talked on: Katy chattering as if to fill every second and so prevent Elise from raising the subject of Gunther again; Elise going along with her because she knew that for the moment there was nothing else she could say. Then, after a while, she glanced at her watch.

  ‘I ought to see if Evans is outside,’ she said regretfully.

  Katy pulled a face. ‘I think I heard the car a while ago, but I didn’t say anything,’ she confessed. ‘Your Bentley has a very distinguished engine sound.’

  ‘It’s a very distinguished car,’ Elise said with a smile. ‘Your grandfather always said that every Dick, Tom and Harry had a Rolls, which was why he had a Bentley.’

  ‘That sounds just like Grandpa!’ Katy laughed.

  ‘Well, if Evans is there I ought to be going, darling,’ Elise said. ‘I’ve a two-hour journey in front of me and however flattering you might be about my age, I do like to get to my bed at a reasonable hour these days. And I’ve a busy day tomorrow, finalising arrangements for the Flowet Show and drawing up the agenda for the regional meeting of the Rural Women’s Fellowship that I’m supposed to be chairing next week.’

  ‘Oh, Granny!’ For some reason Katy dissolved into peals of laughter. ‘ When you were living in Hong Kong, I bet you never visualised yourself doing that kind of thing one day!’

  ‘I don’t suppose I did,’ Elise agreed. ‘ Neither did I visualise myself worrying over my lovely and wilful granddaughter! Take care, Katy, please – and when you’ve a quiet moment, give a little thought to what I just said.’

  For a moment Katy’s eyes grew serious in her fine-boned face, then her mouth curved.

  ‘All right, Granny, if it will make you happy. But you must promise to stop worrying, or I shall never tell you anything again.’

  You haven’t told me anything now except with your eyes, Elise thought. Aloud, she said, ‘ Goodnight, Katy. Sweet dreams. And thank you for the wine.’

  ‘Sweet dreams, Granny.’

  The night was velvet dark now, the air soft and still warm, stars like chinks of light escaping from another world.

  Elise looked back at Katy’s door as the car reached the corner of the mews; it was still open, spilling golden brightness on to the pavement and Elise could imagine Katy standing there, watching until the car was out of sight, leaning against the doorpost with her head slightly to one side so that her hair fell in a shining curtain to her bare shoulder.

  Something sharp and painful twisted inside her and the feeling of helplessness returned, aching in her bones and making her feel old suddenly.

  She had been right in her suspicions about Katy’s involvement with Gunther Dietrich, she had tried to do something about it and she had failed. There was no way, she supposed, that she could make Katy see what she was doing from the same angle as herself. Katy, adoring her father and wanting only to help him, would blind herself to the sharp image of truth.

  And she was no longer a child. She would resent any interference, particularly from her grandmother, however dearly she loved her.

  What was it Katy had said? That she was older now than Elise had been when she married Gordon? Yes, it was true. Certainly her mother had warned her that Gordon was too old for her, just as she was warning Katy of Gunther. But she had taken no notice. Gordon had seemed a rock of stability to her, the first person since her father to make her feel safe and wanted and loved …

  She leaned her head back against the soft leather seat, feeling the niggle of pain from tension between her eyebrows. Perhaps that was how Katy saw Gunther – the rock to which Sandersons might safely secure their mooring rope. Perhaps the very invincibility of him was attractive. Power and money certainly were, but in the years to come these would not be enough – not for someone who possessed as much warmth and passion as Katy.

  I look at her and see myself, Elise thought. Whatever happens, I must ensure she does not make the mistake I made.

  But how?

  Tiredness lapped at her bones again and she thought: If only I were thirty years younger! But she was not. Doing what she had to do would be doubly painful now. If the worst came to the worst and the only way was to vote against the proposals presented to the board, it would be the most disastrous thing for her to bring down the company that had been her life.

  But if it will save Katy, I shall do it, she vowed.

  And in the darkness felt better for having made up her mind.

  Lights seemed to be burning still in every window of Durscombe Park as the car swung on to the gravelled forecourt. Elise made a mental note to enquire into it tomorrow: there was surely no need to waste money in this way.

  Evans drew up by the front door and she went in. The scent of roses from the huge arrangement on the George Jack chest at the foot of the stairs hung heavily on the still warm air. The door from the kitchen o
pened and Mrs Parsons, the housekeeper, emerged, round and bustling even at this late hour, though she had brushed out her hair ready for bed.

  ‘Oh, you’re back, Ma’am! Now, what can I get you? There’s a nice piece of cold ham, if you’re peckish, and a salad. Or a slice of apple pie and cream …’

  ‘Nothing, thank you, Mrs Parsons. Just a cup of hot chocolate, please. And I think shall go straight up. I’m very tired.’

  ‘Hot chocolate?’ Although this was Elise’s regular nightcap, Mrs Parsons still managed to inject a note of faint surprise into her voice. ‘Right you are. Ma’am.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Elise turned to climb the stairs, realising as she did so just how tired she was. Along the landing she went, past the Macchiaiolis and the exquisite Erskine Nicol that hung against the pale yellow walls, and into the room which had long been her retreat.

  The greens that she loved had been repeated here and in the adjoining bathroom: sharp apple and white and soft, dark olive, with cane furniture and hanging plants to continue the theme. There were no pictures, only photographs – Gordon on his seventieth birthday, his face as smooth as it had been twenty years earlier; Alex and Geraldine as children; Geraldine’s wedding; Alex’s wife Laura, with her family of three sons; and, of course, Katy. Kicking off her shoes, Elise crossed to the chaise longue which occupied an alcove to the left of the window her feet sinking deliciously into the deep soft pile of the pale green carpet.

  I really should get ready for bed, she thought. If I sit down I shall probably never move again. But the temptation was too great and she sat, resting her back against the comfortable curve of the chaise and tucking up her feet beneath her.

  In the stillness she closed her eyes, momentarily forgetting all her worries. Here in this room she had given free rein to her hopes, dreams and fears for so long that she could feel totally and completely relaxed, without the slightest need for keeping up the pretence that was her armour against the world. Outside her bedroom she was Mrs Gordon Sanderson, poised, dressed by Jean Muir and Dior and in complete control of her life. Within it she was Elise, feeling much the same person she had been at seventeen, as vulnerable – and as determined.