‘So you’ve wondered too?’ said C. J.
‘Well of course I have. It would require a fairly low IQnot to wonder.’
‘Didn’t you think I might have?’ asked C. J.
‘Well, I decided in the end you couldn’t have,’ said Camilla with her usual earnest truthfulness and lack of tact, ‘or you’d have mentioned it.’
‘Oh,’ said C. J.
‘Well anyway, what period are we talking about?’
‘Early April. Late March.’
‘Well, I hadn’t known him long. It’s hard to say. I would have to look it up.’
‘Look it up?’ said C. J. in astonishment. ‘You mean you have diaries going that far back?’
‘Of course,’ said Camilla. ‘I have them all filed, since I was a very small girl. You never know when a date is going to prove significant. I mean, this proves it.’
‘I suppose so,’ said C. J. ‘Er – where are these files?’
‘In the office,’ said Camilla. ‘I’ll have a look and call you in the morning. Good night, C. J.’
‘Can we really spend Christmas in London?’ Candy’s voice was ecstatic. ‘That sounds just wonderful.’
‘Sure,’ said Miles. ‘Just spin your father some good yarn, about staying with the Creep’s mother or second cousin twice removed, and come. You’ll like it.’
‘Where’ll we stay?’
‘It’s pretty nice here.’
‘Is that a real smart hotel?’
‘Real smart.’
‘Will I get to meet the Women? Or the Queen Grandmother?’
‘Possibly. Don’t see why not.’
‘Miles, you’re the greatest.’
‘Where is Mrs Emerson today?’ asked Phaedria, halfway into her first full week back at work.
‘She’s away for a couple of days, Lady Morell. She’s gone to Washington, to check out the office there, and the hotel. She’ll be back on Monday.’
‘Good. Is Mr Brookes in today? Find out, will you, and ask him if he can lunch with me.’
‘Of course,’ said Sarah Brownsmith.
‘Oh, and Sarah, give me a line, would you? I want to make a call.’
‘Yes, Lady Morell.’
‘Hallo. Is Doctor Friedman there?’
‘No, she isn’t. She’s away, I’m afraid. Who is it calling? Can I help?’
‘I don’t think so. No, thank you. This is Phaedria Morell. When might Doctor Friedman be back?’
‘Not until mid January at the earliest. She’s visiting her sister in Australia.’
‘I see.’
‘Doctor Friedman said urgent matters could be relayed to her partner, Doctor Mortimer. Would you like his number?’
‘No, really, this isn’t urgent. I’ll call Doctor Friedman in January. Thank you.’
‘C. J., is that you?’
‘Yes, Camilla. How are you this morning?’
‘I’m fine, C. J. Missing you, of course. Looking forward to Christmas.’
‘I am as well, Camilla.’
‘Now then. I have looked in my diary. If it’s any help to you, I can confirm from early March right through to April we were all working flat out. Julian, Paul Baud and myself. It was a crucial time. There was no way he could possibly have popped over to California then. All right? And the last few days of March we weren’t even in the States, we were in Paris, with Paul Baud, looking at the stores there.’
Ah,’ said C. J. ‘Now that does sound interesting. What about – the week before that?’
‘No, C. J. definitely not. I did see him every single day.’
‘Even the weekend?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Camilla with a touch of complacency in her voice, ‘certainly the weekend. We’d only just begun our relationship. Now, C. J., I have to go. I have an appointment with my analyst. See you in two weeks.’
Goodbye, darling.’
‘Goodbye C. J.’
‘Eliza? Letitia. Listen, we seem to have a watertight alibi for Julian. The early part of March he was very much in New York, with Camilla.’
‘Ah. Is she sure?’
‘Oh, yes. Apparently she has filed all her diaries from birth.’
‘She would have done. Sanctimonious bitch. Well, I suppose we should be grateful.
‘So all we have to worry about now is that first week in April. Which could be crucial, I suppose. After that he was with me in London,’ said Eliza.’
‘Yes. I do feel awfully glad about it, I have to say.’
‘I think I do too.’
Phaedria leant across the table earnestly at Richard Brookes. He looked at her appreciatively.
‘I need advice,’ she said.
‘Ah. Of a legal nature?’
‘Sort of.’
‘Legal nature is very precise, my dear Lady Morell. Sort ofs don’t have a huge place in it.’
‘I suppose not. But it isn’t all that precise. It’s quite difficult, really. But it struck me the other night that Julia is actually a most rightful heir. To the company and everything.’
‘Ah,’ he said, ‘I do not think legal precedent would bear you out. But please continue.’
‘The thing is that Julian didn’t know about her. If he had, it would all have been very different.’
‘Possibly.’
‘Well anyway, morally obviously she has to have a claim.’
‘Possibly.’
‘And – well, I thought I might present this thought to Miles. And offer to buy his share on her behalf. So that he wouldn’t be choosing between me and Roz, he would be solving the problem by letting Julia have his two per cent. I think it might appeal to him.’
‘Hmm. It would clearly appeal to you.’
‘Well, of course it would appeal to me,’ said Phaedria irritably. ‘She’s my child. I want her to have her rights. But she’s also Julian’s. He would have wanted her to inherit the company. Or a substantial share of it. What most appeals to me is getting this deadlock shifted.’
‘It wouldn’t really though, would it?’ Richard was looking at her thoughtfully. ‘It wouldn’t ease the day to day situation at all.’
‘No. Not yet. But at least Miles would be off the hook.’
‘Yes.’ He looked at her shrewdly. ‘Phaedria, could I ask you if you have ever considered the possibility that Miles might be –’
‘What?’ she said, and her eyes were full of panic. ‘Who?’
‘Oh,’ he said, unable to continue in the face of her patent fear. ‘Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. Well, this plan of yours is certainly a possibility. Let’s think about it a bit. You’d have to form a trust fund for Julia. To buy her share.’
‘Yes, I’d thought of that.’
‘And you’d have to raise a lot of money.’
‘I’ve thought about that too. I can.’
‘Right. It would make Roz exceedingly angry.’
‘Richard, she couldn’t be angrier. At least this way she’d be kind of beaten. Impotent.’
‘I don’t think Mrs Emerson would ever be that.’
‘Well, you know what I mean.’
‘I do. Well, it’s an interesting idea.’
‘Is it legal though?’
‘Oh, perfectly. As long as Miles knew what you were doing. And he agreed to it. You might well be right, it could be a huge relief for him. He could welcome it.’
‘So should I suggest it, do you think?’
‘By all means if you want to. Only perhaps you should imply that while he considers it, he doesn’t talk to Roz about it. There is no great point in meeting trouble halfway. No, as I say, I do think it’s an interesting idea. I only see one really big stumbling block.’
‘Roz?’
‘No. Miles himself. I may be wrong, but I have a hunch that he may in the end decide to hang on to his legacy.’
‘Richard, you are absolutely wrong. All Miles wants is to get the hell out of here and lie on the beach with Candy McCall for the rest of his life, eating her daddy’s sweeties. Believe
me, I know.’
‘Well, I think you’re screwy,’ said Candy. She had arrived in London and was settling into Miles’ suite at Claridge’s with patent pleasure. ‘Just plain screwy. Just think, you could be a real powerful big businessman, and you’re throwing it all away, just like that, without even thinking about it.’
‘Baby, I don’t need to think about it. I hate the idea. I told you.’
‘Of what? Money? Power? Success? Don’t be silly, Miles, it would be great.’
‘I don’t want power, and we can have the money. I just want you.’
‘Well,’ she said, looking at him, her eyes appraising him rather coolly, ‘I’m not sure that I want a man who turned down something so exciting.’
‘Candy, baby, you don’t know what you’re saying.’
‘I do, Miles. I know exactly what I’m saying. You’re clever and you’re smart and you’ve had a fantastic education and you’ve spent most of your life wasting yourself. I went along with it before, because there didn’t seem any choice, but now there is. I think you should take this opportunity, Miles, and make something of it.’
‘Candy, if that’s what you think I don’t know that we have a future together after all.’
Candy looked at him, trying not to show how scared she was. She changed her tactics.
‘Miles, it’s not just for you I want you to be a success. It’s for me. I’d be so proud of you. It would be wonderful.’
‘Candy, it wouldn’t be wonderful. You don’t know what these people are like. They’re eating one another alive. It’s really sad.’
‘Well, I think it’s really exciting.’
‘Candy, it is not exciting. It’s sick. I might have known the Creep would do something awful like write that will. He was a psychopath, he must have been, putting everyone through this. Honestly, Candy, I just want to get rid of the lot of them fast.’
‘Won’t you just think about it?’
‘No.’
She played her trump card. ‘Dad was really impressed by it all. He said he’d let us get married if you took up with this company.’
‘What, straight away?’
‘Yes.’
He looked at her. ‘Candy, I can’t. Not even for you. I just can’t. I’m sorry. It’s not for me.’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘you obviously don’t love me at all.’
‘Candy, baby, I do love you.’
‘You can’t. Otherwise you’d at least consider doing what I ask.’
‘Candy, I can’t and I won’t.’
‘So you don’t love me.’
‘I do. I swear I do.’
‘Prove it. Give it a try.’
He looked at her as she stood there, her eyes filled with tears, her lips quivering, he thought of the secrets, the intricacies of her body, the glorious explorations and discoveries he had made within her; and he remembered her loyalty to him, how she had helped him, given him money, comforted him, reassured him, gone to Hugo’s office for him, lied to her father, stood by him when he had had absolutely nothing in the world to offer her, and he knew he could not let her down, could not leave her without at least seriously considering what she was asking him to do. He was angry, resentful, but he could see he must go along with her at least a little way. She had meant too much to him for too long; he owed her too much, she deserved, as she had said, that at least he tried.
‘All right,’ he said with a sigh. ‘All right, I’ll think about it. Seriously. Talk to them about it. For you.’
‘Oh, Miles,’ she said, throwing herself into his arms, kissing him, pressing herself against him. ‘Thank you. Thank you. I’m sure you won’t regret it.’
‘Maybe not,’ he said, ‘but I’m afraid you might.’
Letitia was sitting alone eating her supper when she suddenly thought about the cars. She had been oddly moved by the fact that Julian had left them all to her, with the exception of the Bugatti. It had been such a gesture of faith in her, in their closeness, in his faith in her apparent immortality. They told a lot about Julian, those cars; where he had been, what he had done. He had bought them all over the world. And the collection of logbooks Henry had handed to her after the reading of the will would chronicle it all. Why hadn’t she thought about that before?
Letitia’s heart was beating rather fast. She got up, walked through into her dining room and unlocked the escritoire she had bought when they had moved into the house. The logbooks were all in an envelope in the top. She sat down rather abruptly and started thumbing through them. So many lovely machines, such a lot of care and attention and money lavished on them. And he had acquired them over such a long period of time. The 1910 Rolls. The Napier. The 1912 Chevrolet. The Delage. That was her own favourite. And oh, the Bugatti. She shouldn’t have the logbook for that. The Bugatti was Phaedria’s. Or rather Julian’s again now. Letitia’s eyes blurred with tears, suddenly remembering the keys placed so tenderly amongst the lilies on the coffin. She opened the tattered old book carefully. When had that been – 1957? Letitia’s brain suddenly shot into overdrive. She leafed feverishly through the documents, the bills, the insurance certificates. And then her heart seemed quite to stop, and she sat staring down at the piece of paper in her hand.
She sat there for a long time, and then walked back to the drawing room and picked up the telephone.
‘Eliza? It’s Letitia. Listen, I have some news. Nice news, I think, really. Julian was home that week before your birthday. The first week in April. He was at the car auction at Sotheby’s. He bought the Bugatti.’
‘Miles,’ said Letitia gently. ‘Would there have been any question of your mother going to New York to visit Julian, do you think? Did she often go to New York?’
‘No,’ he said, ‘absolutely not. My mom only went to New York once in her life and that was with my dad, oh quite a while before I was born. She was always talking about it. She used to show me the pictures they took, and the souvenirs she’d bought, over and over again. She loved it. She said she would have given anything to go again, but it was really expensive. They didn’t have much money, Mrs Morell, I think you have to realize that. And anyway, he wouldn’t have let her, he was real possessive. All her family were in California, except her mom in Ohio, and she and my dad used to have real arguments if she wanted to go and stay with her. He never let her. No, I’m really sure she could never have gone to New York on her own. It would have been like leaving my dad for good. If you know what I mean.’
‘Well, in that case,’ said Letitia, smiling at him radiantly, a great weight lifted from her own heart, ‘I think you need have no fears that you are not actually your own father’s son. Julian was in New York at the beginning of March and in Paris for the last few days, the year before you were born. And in April he was in England. We can confirm all that.’
‘Oh wow,’ said Miles. ‘I hate to sound rude, but that really is the most terrific news. Thank you very much, Mrs Morell.’
‘It’s fairly terrific news for me too, Miles. We are no nearer solving the mystery, but it is still terrific news.’
Letitia sent for Roz. She wanted to tell her herself, to have the pleasure of sharing the news. They had never discussed it, but she knew, from certain expressions in Roz’s eyes, an avoidance of entering into any discussion about Miles, that she had thought of it, been afraid.
Roz came into the house at First Street late in the evening, after supper. She was wearing a long-sleeved jersey leotard, under a tight, short jersey skirt in dark beige from Alaia. It emphasized her breasts, flattered her lean rangy body, made her legs, in black tights, look awesomely long.
‘That’s lovely, darling, you do look nice.’
‘Thank you. It is so nice to be able to wear short skirts again.’
‘You’re very lucky to have those legs. You and Miles both look like race horses.’
Roz looked at her with the taut edgy expression she wore whenever she felt threatened.
‘Does Miles have specially long legs? I’ve ne
ver noticed.’
‘Pretty long. Roz – tell me something – no, first let’s have a drink. What do you want?’
‘Perrier. I’m on the wagon till Christmas.’
‘Very commendable.’
‘Not really. I thought I was getting fat.’
‘Not terribly, darling. All right, help yourself. Now then –’ as Roz settled opposite her, in the love seat. ‘I want to talk to you about Miles.’
‘What about him?’ said Roz truculently.
‘Well, I – and your mother, and indeed Miles himself – had all been worrying about something. I wondered if you had too?’
‘I can’t think of anything.’ Roz swallowed. ‘I mean, there’s lots to worry about, but I can’t really imagine the same thing bothering us all.’
‘Can’t you? Good. Then you’ve been spared a great many sleepless nights which I have not. Can I tell you about it?’
‘Of course.’ Roz was sitting very straight, her eyes fixed on her grandmother’s face. She looked pale.
‘Well you see, I thought – we all thought – that there might be an explanation for your father leaving Miles that legacy which was fairly logical. Obvious even.’
‘I can’t think what.’
‘Can’t you?’
Roz looked at her with her blank, wall-eyed expression. ‘No.’
Letitia laughed. ‘Sometimes you look exactly like your father. Well anyway, what we all thought was that Miles might – well, have been Julian’s son.’
‘Oh.’ Roz tried to sound calm, disinterested, but her voice came out sounding rather shaky and weak. ‘How – how odd.’
‘Yes, well, it didn’t seem that odd to us. Quite likely, really. At least it would have explained a lot. But obviously we had to check it out.’
‘I – I suppose so.’
‘Well –’ the silence seemed very long. Roz was motionless, she put down her glass to conceal the fact that her hand was shaking. Letitia stood up, smiling at her. ‘Well, we were all wrong. Quite wrong. Your father was in New York and Paris during the relevant period. And then at home in London. I think that’s probably quite good news, don’t you?’
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