She smiled at him. You sound just like my grandfather. You'd be surprised, I'm a very good driver.
Still ' James wasn't at all sure he approved and Violet waved the enormous emerald ring at him.
Don't be so old-fashioned. I'm sure she'll do very well. And then where? She turned interested eyes to Audrey.
I'm not sure. I thought I'd spend a little bit of time on the Riviera, and then drive or take the train into Italy. I want to go to Rome ' Florence ' Milan ' She hesitated for only a fraction of a second, and neither of the other two noticed. ' and if I have time, I might spend a few days in Venice, and then I'll take the train back to Paris, and from there home.
And you plan to do all that by September?
What I can ' there are other things I'd like to do too, but I know there won't be time. I would have liked to go into Spain, perhaps Switzerland ' Austria ' Germany ' . India, Japan ' China ' she almost laughed at herself. The entire world was so appealing to her, it was like a giant apple that she wanted to bite and bite and bite until she devoured the whole thing right to the core, seeds and all.
I don't think you'll have time for half of that. James looked doubtful and Violet looked intrigued.
And you're doing all that alone? Audrey nodded. You're very brave, you know.
I don't really think I am. It's just ' She looked honestly up at them and she seemed very young. ' I've always wanted to do something like this ' my father was that way. He traveled all over the world, and then finally he wound up in Hawaii, but he was traveling to Fiji and Samoa and Bora-Bora ' I think it's something in my blood. All my life I've dreamed of traveling like this ' alone ' meeting people, doing things ' and now, suddenly, here I am ' . She looked as though she were about to explode with joy and Lady Violet threw her arms about her and gave her a hug.
You're a funny girl, you know. And terribly brave. I'm not sure I'd have the courage to do anything like that, without James. He smiled benevolently at her. He was beginning to think of bedding down with her for the night, and in a little while Audrey and her adventures would be distinctly de trop. He had eyes only for his wife. Are you enjoying yourself so far? As usual, Violet was curious.
I am. Audrey smiled at them, and she had correctly sensed James's heightening interest in his wife. And it was late anyway, and it had been a long day for all of them. She stood up, smiling at them, and shook hands with them both again. I've had a wonderful evening. Thank you both. And thank you very much for the champagne.
Shall we do something wonderful tomorrow then? Let's have lunch, shall we? Violet smiled and Audrey nodded.
I'd love that. See you tomorrow then. She left them chatting happily and went to her own cabin on the A deck. It had been a wonderful evening with them, and they were not at all the kind of people she had expected to meet. She had learned from Violet in the course of the evening that she was twenty-eight, and James was thirty-three, they had a five-year-old son, also James, and a little girl, Alexandra, who was three. They lived in London throughout the year, and had a house in the country, and in the summers they went to Cap d'Antibes. They led an indolent life of luxury and yet they weren't tiresome or snobbish. They were marvelous, and great fun to be with, and Audrey was looking forward to her lunch with them the next day, and as it turned out, she spent most of the crossing with them. They became an inseparable threesome, laughing and dancing and telling tales, drinking champagne until they could barely stop laughing anymore, making fun of the other passengers, and inviting them to join them now and then. But on the whole, the threesome was a huge success, and Audrey and the Hawthornes became fast friends. So much so that it was a mournful night as they faced the prospect of disembarking the next day.
Will you come to Cap d'Antibes with us? It was Violet's suggestion but James seemed anxious to second it. You'd have such a good time. We always do. There are such marvelous people there. Their favorites among them were the Murphys, of course, Gerald and Sara, with their endless parties, funny costumes, and intriguing friends. Hemingway had been there with them for a time, Fitzgerald always was, Picasso, Dos Passos ' but more than that it was the Murphys themselves who were so amusing. The Hawthornes were mad about them, and counted themselves lucky to be among their friends. Do come. Violet's eyes pleaded with her and Audrey was tempted to say yes. You're coming to the South of France anyway. Just plan to spend a little more time there.
Yes, James laughed, rather more like two months. Good God, Audrey, Violet's brother stayed with us for seven weeks last year he had such a good time. He pretended to frown then as he looked at his wife. He's not coming back again this year, is he, Lady Vi?
Now, don't start that again, James, you know he only stayed for two weeks in July. And this year, he can only stay for a few days. She turned her attention to Audrey again. We're counting on you. We'll be there by July second or third, and you just come.
I will, she promised, and suddenly the summer looked even more exciting.
There was a whole new world to discover, with the cast of characters they described in Antibes, and all the adventures they would share. They held out excitement like a handful of gems, and their promises danced in her head like little elves, as she lay in her bunk that night and ran it all through her head again ' a weekend in Saint-Tropez ' gambling in Monte Carl', as Vi called it in flawless but irreverent French ' Cannes ' Nice ' Villefranche ' the very words filled her with excitement, and her heart pounded as she lay there late into the night, thanking her lucky stars that she had met them.
Chapter 5
The days in London flew by much too quickly. Audrey was delivered to Claridge's by James and Vi, with a special introduction to the manager. Her reservation had been at the Connaught, but James had insisted that she change, only because he preferred it. There was absolutely no reason why, and she would have been happy in either place, although James's introduction guaranteed her treatment the likes of which she'd never experienced anywhere. She attempted to explain it in a letter to Annabelle, but then finally tore it up for fear that her younger sister would be overwhelmed with envy. There were rivers of champagne, endless baskets of fruit, little silver trays of impeccable chocolates, and afternoons of shopping with Lady Vi, driven everywhere in their Rolls, taken to parties and plays. And Vi and James even gave a party for her. They introduced her to their closest friends, she fell in love with their children, and was in awe of their home. It was enormous and elegant, and looked more like a small palace than a house. Even in San Francisco, with all its grand homes, she had never seen anything like it. She almost hated to move on to Paris at week's end, and the only thing that consoled her was the fact that she'd be meeting them in Antibes in a few weeks, and she could hardly wait to see them.
Paris almost seemed dull in comparison, without Violet and James. And Audrey bought a wonderful little hat for her, at Patou, and an even more wonderful one for Annabelle, which she sent home. And almost everything she saw in Paris seemed to have a jungle motif that year. She bought a wild evening gown, striped like a zebra skin, and planned to wear it in Antibes when she visited Violet and James, perhaps even to one of the fabulous parties that the Murphys gave, if they invited her. But it was the first time in Audrey's life that she felt totally independent and grown up. She didn't have to answer to anyone, or be responsible for anything. It didn't matter what time she ate, or when she got up. She combed Montmartre at night, and drank red wine at noon. She went wandering along the Left Bank, and after two weeks of glorious liberty, she took the train to the South of France.
She had decided not to drive down after all, not because she was afraid of it, as James thought she should be, but more because she was feeling indolent now, and it was easier to go down on the train. She was wearing a long narrow pale blue skirt, a pair of espadrilles she had bought, and a big straw picture hat when she got off the train in Nice and saw Violet and James standing there, in costumes similar to hers. Violet was wearing a white sundress with a big straw hat with a red rose, and little red
shoes, and James was wearing espadrilles just like Aud's. They were already tanned, and the children were waiting for them with the nurse in the car. Audrey plopped Alexandra onto her knees as they drove away, and James and Violet began singing a French song, as everyone laughed, and they drove too fast with the top down. It was a summer for happiness and excitement, and their whole life was devoid of fear or any kind of worry.
Audrey fell instantly in love with their house, and with the people who came there to visit them that night. There were artists and aristocrats, Frenchmen, and women from Rome, half a dozen Americans, and the most beautiful girl Audrey had ever seen who insisted on swimming in the pool nude. And Hemingway was supposed to come by but he had gone fishing on some exhausting expedition he had organized in the Caribbean instead. It was magical, and precisely what she had always dreamed. It was impossible to believe that only a month or so before she had been sedately at home, making sure that her grandfather's soft-boiled eggs weren't being undercooked.
And now she even understood her obsession with world news. It was a way of hanging on to something more, a world outside, a life beyond, only now she was part of it, night and day, with all these people she had never met before and would never see again, and the extraordinary people whom they knew and introduced her to daily. They took it all in stride, they were all so used to it. Everyone they knew had either written a book or put on a play, created a famous piece of art, or had been born into a titled family. They weren't just people there, they were more, they were the sculptors of a magical time in history, and Audrey could feel the moments being carved, the gold dust in her hair as she watched them.
Each day when she awoke, she had the feeling that something remarkable was happening, and in truth it was, and now she understood what her father had lived and died for, the excitement he couldn't have existed without. The albums had come alive for her, except this was better still. It was her life, not his, and these were her friends now ' and like her father, she was constantly taking pictures.
What were you thinking of, Audrey? Violet had been watching her, as they sat on the little lip of sand at Antibes. You know, you were smiling just then, and staring into space. What were you thinking?
How happy I am. And how far from home this is. She looked at her friend with a smile. She already knew how sad she would be to go back in the fall. She didn't even like thinking about it. She wanted to stay here forever, with the magic going on, but of course it wouldn't. Eventually they would all have to go home. She hated the thought, though.
You love it here, don't you?
I do. Audrey lay back on the sand, her black French bathing suit molding her body to perfection in the sand. And beside her, Violet wore white, with her black hair. Together, they made quite a pair. It was a photograph Audrey would have loved to have taken. She was taking photographs constantly. And when she had them developed at a laboratory in Nice, the others commented on how good she was. Even Picasso said so one day, glancing at the prints she was sifting through. He had eyed them with interest and then looked at her with his piercing eyes. You have talent, you know. You shouldn't waste it. He spoke severely and it had startled her. Photography was something she enjoyed. She had never thought of it as something not to be wasted. But she had been impressed by his tone. She was impressed by everything happening around her, and she loved it.
Why don't you stay? Violet asked as they lay on the beach.
In Antibes?
In Europe, I mean. This seems like just the right place for you. She was watching Audrey's eyes, they looked so wistful now, as she thought of leaving.
I'd love that, Violet. But it wouldn't be fair.
To whom?
My grandfather mainly ' he needs me there ' perhaps one day. She didn't want to say when, but perhaps when he was no more. This had given her a taste of her life's dream. She could always come back. One day. If she was lucky.
It doesn't seem fair, you know, to have to give up your life like that.
Audrey looked quietly at her. I love him, Vi. It's all right.
But what about you? You can't live like that forever, Audrey. And then she looked at her curiously. Don't you want to get married and have a life of your own one day? It seemed so strange to her not to have that. She had loved James for so long. She couldn't begin to imagine life without him.
Maybe. I don't really give it much thought. This is my life. Maybe I'm not meant to be married ' maybe that's not in The Plan for me. They exchanged a smile and lay back on the sand. For the first time she felt that even if she never married at all, it would no longer be such an evil fate. It was pleasant being free, especially here, in the summer of 1933, in Cap d'Antibes on the Riviera.
They went to a party later that night, at the Murphys' again, a costume party this time, and as always Gerald Murphy himself was the most marvelous of all. He was handsome and meticulous, yet he was so much more than that. He was elegant as few men ever were, elegant and imaginative, and so perfect in every detail that one wanted to sit in a corner and stare at him all night. He was one of those rare, rare people whose plumage was so fine, so delectable, that everyone admired him. He had been voted Best Dressed by his class at Yale in 1912, and they didn't even know the half of it then. Twenty years later, he was much, much more wonderful, and his wife Sara was divine. She used to wear her pearls on the beach at Antibes, and insisted it was good for them. as she sat chatting with Picasso in his eternal black hat.
It was a glorious summer for all of them, although less so for the Murphys than years before. They were still battling their son Patrick's TB, but at least they were all there, and there was something special and golden about each day. Audrey felt the magic spell too, as she and Violet strolled along on the beach day after day, watching the children, squinting into the sun, and feeling the sand on their legs as they lay lazily and shared a lifetime of stories and laughter and confidences. Lady Vi was the sister Audrey had never had before, the responsible one, the good friend, older by only two years, and twins in their souls. It was almost like coming home finding her, and something warm and solid was built between them that Audrey had never experienced before. And she valued it more each day. And James was happy to have her around, they were a comfortable threesome, always, and he never showed the least inappropriate interest in his wife's friend. He was a gentleman and a brother and that was all.
What are you really going to do when you go home, Aud? Violet was watching the long, lanky girl with the dark red hair. She worried about her sometimes. She knew what an empty life she led at home, and she would have liked to see her stay in London with them, although Audrey continued to insist that it wasn't possible. She had to go back to California.
I don't know. The same as before, I guess. She looked over her shoulder at Violet with a smile. That's not so bad. But she was trying to convince herself more than her friend. I did it before ' running Grandfather's house, I mean ' . But nothing would ever be quite the same. Never. Not after these golden days with people one only dreamed about, in a place reserved for a magical few. And now, for these brief moments, she was one of them. But for how long? Sooner or later it would all have to end. Audrey never lost sight of that. It only served to make it all more precious to her as July drifted on.
I so wish you could stay on for a while ' .
Regretfully, Audrey shook her head. In fact, she sighed, and squinted up at the sun, I should be moving on next week, if I'm going to complete my trip. I was going to drive over to the Italian Riviera and move on from there.
Do you really want to do that? Violet looked crushed and Audrey laughed at her.
Honestly? No. I want to sit right here for the rest of my life. But that isn't very realistic, I suppose. So I might as well make my way slowly back to the real world. And God only knows when I'll get back to Europe again. Her grandfather wasn't getting any younger, and Lord only knew when she would be able to tear herself away again. Annabelle's last letter had informed her that she was terrified that she mig
ht be pregnant again. She didn't want another baby so soon and Harcourt was furious with her. Apparently, she hadn't used any precautions. And her grandfather's only letter had sounded just like him.
She could almost hear him growl as she turned each page. He was complaining about Roosevelt, and assorted local events. He insisted that Roosevelt was doing nothing to help the economy in spite of all his promises of a new deal. and he always referred to him in his letters to Audrey as your friend FDR. and usually underlined the your, which made her laugh. Thinking about him made her sigh again. How faraway it all seemed now, and she glanced down the beach at James as she thought of it. He was walking slowly toward them with a tall, thin man, with hair even darker than his own, gesticulating animatedly as James laughed and pointed down the beach at them. Violet waved and glanced at Audrey with a broad smile, looking immensely pleased.
Do you know who that is, Aud? Audrey shook her head, amused at her friend's excitement over him. He was certainly a very attractive young man, but no more so than the countless others who came and went out of their lives. Violet had begun waving as they came down the beach, brandishing her big floppy hat as Audrey laughed. It's Charles Parker-Scott, the travel writer and explorer. Don't you know him? He publishes a lot in the States. His mother was American, you know. Audrey suddenly looked startled as she smiled. She certainly knew the name, and he was indeed famous, she had just always assumed that he was a great deal older than this handsome young man strolling down the beach next to James. But she had no time for further thought as Vi hurled herself into his arms.
Behave yourself, old girl. That's no way for a married woman to greet a man. James chided her with a swat on her behind but he didn't look dismayed. And Charles was obviously enchanted with the greeting
Oh to hell with you, James. Vi beamed as the new arrival swept her off her feet and into his arms. Charlie's not a man for God's sake. And as she said the words, he feigned chagrin, and dropped her unceremoniously into the sand at his feet, and stared down at her.
Wanderlust (1986) Page 6
