‘But you can’t.’ She is desperate, anxious.
He laughs. ‘You mean you hadn’t considered my opinion on the matter before you discussed it with your publisher. Who is, might I ask?’
‘Freebody.’
‘Ahhh …’ he exhales. ‘I might have known. I can picture his face now, when you tell him. How disappointed he will be.’
Her face hardens. ‘You can’t stop me.’
‘Of course I can. I just have.’
‘He will publish. It is far too good a correspondence to conceal. And you know it.’ She begins to wheedle. ‘Our letters are endlessly entertaining, so witty, so clever, and dare I say it, dangerous!’
‘And that is precisely why you won’t be publishing. There are other people’s feelings to consider in this matter, Minnie, as you well know.’
‘William won’t care. Why should he?’
‘I’m not talking about William,’ he says coldly. ‘I’m talking about my wife.’
Angry with him, she barks, ‘You shall hear from Freebody shortly. An arrangement can be reached to satisfy all of us.’
He holds his hands up. ‘I don’t want the money. I don’t need it.’
‘Oh, but I do!’ She stops herself. She has said too much.
‘My dearest,’ says Baxter. ‘It must be hard for you, keeping up appearances. I hope you have enough to settle your bill at the Ritz.’ And with that he turns back to the desk and requests his room key.
‘Damn you, Baxter!’ Minnie says, her jet beads swinging across her bosom. She stalks from the hotel lobby and out into the street where it has begun to rain. Her shoes splash little eddies of water into the gutter. She puts her head down against the driving rain, shielding her face with her hat and hurries along the street …
Chapter Eighteen
It was boredom beyond belief waiting in the queue for the Eiffel Tower, not to mention disquieting. The presence of the circling armed guards could make the most innocent bystander feel shifty. Until it was his turn at the front of the queue Charlie entertained himself playing a game of “guess the language” as he eavesdropped on the tourists’ conversations behind and in front. Finally he squeezed his way into the elevator and was on his way up.
Exiting on the first floor he weaved his way through the crowded walkway until he could find a quiet space all to himself. The ugly-beautiful metalwork construction arched above and around him, an elevated cage from which to view the city. He focused on the horizon, the clouds, the river, any extraneous thing that would allow him to tune the tourist hubbub out. Easier said than done. Nothing suggested itself and he decided to go on up to the second level. Up here he was more likely to come across romantic couples, arms entwined, as they gazed out at the Paris suburbs before turning to face each other for a kiss …
And then Minnie appears, in a pale yellow summer dress; using her parasol to jab at the air, emphasising a point, she is berating her companion.
‘I shall suffer from vertigo. You will have to catch me if I faint.’
‘How delicious that we should come this high in order to escape Robert?’ says Baxter, peering over the side.
‘He would have come. I persuaded him otherwise.’
‘And how did you manage that?’
‘I lied about my destination. I told him I had a business matter to attend to; he should take the opportunity to rest, or dine, or sit and smoke!’
‘Minnie!’ Baxter says, ‘you’ve proved you don’t care for him. You and I both know there is something between us, there always will be.’
‘Then why are you so determined to thwart me? What are you ashamed of? We were in love once; you poured your heart out to me, you made me believe it. The skill of your writing demonstrates it, proclaims it! You are keen to publish everything else that falls from your pen, why not our love letters?’
‘That is different and you know it. Our words of love are private. No one else has the right or need to share in it.’
‘But you know what a value the publisher has put on them. You know they will make money. And you know that I need money, Baxter. I am in severe financial straits.’
‘And I will help you when I can, I’ve told you!’
‘A jewel and a dress here and there? A dinner once a week? A weekend at the coast? I cannot survive on gestures, Baxter! I need substantial funds. I need to pay for a roof over my head, for clothes, for travel, and the bills, the endless bills! I have precious little work—’
‘You would have plenty of work if you would open your arms to it. Instead you shy away from the new plays, the modern writers—’
‘Vulgar! Absurd! Complicated and unattractive women, complex, unsympathetic—’
‘Hush! Who, if not you, has played her share of unattractive characters? And yet, you have won the audiences over! You have moved them, drawn them close, made them understand your motivations. Who, if not Minnie Etherege Devine, could have the audience eating out of her hands, again? If she would try. Only try!’
‘Oh you are cruel, and ungallant. You would have me work myself into the grave. Endless repetition, night after night, travelling from town to town, theatre to theatre, scraping away at my health, dwindling my energy, all so that your conscience is clear! All so that you can deny me the simple solution to my problems; the publishing of the letters would solve all my financial worries for years to come. And those of my children.’
‘Your children? How disingenuous of you to mention those poor creatures. As if you care for them! Don’t make me laugh.’
‘I do care for them—’
‘You’ve ignored them for years, trailing them about, leaving them languishing under the attentions of a succession of dim-witted tutors and nursemaids.’
‘How dare you! If you were not so selfish, I would provide them with all the comforts in my power!’
‘Selfish! I? You know perfectly well why I cannot sanction publication. My wife, Minnie, my wife. Do you think I would now rub salt into all her wounds, by publishing my indiscretions? Jess has stood by me, all this while. I will not destroy her by pushing her face in the squalid mess. By all means, when I am dead and buried, publish what you like. But not now.’
‘When you are dead and buried? I’ll have been in my grave longer than you! A pauper, starved to death!’
‘Then work, confound you! Work! Audition for Geoffrey.’
‘You know as well as I that Geoffrey is finished.’
‘What nonsense. And anyway it doesn’t stop you auditioning for someone else, for God’s sake.’
‘Oh it comes so easy to you, doesn’t it? Work. Writing. Acclaim. Commissions for this and that article, contracts for this and that play, publishers clamouring for your latest screed? I wrote half that correspondence. It is my right to publish.’
‘Then publish your half! Do it and be content.’
‘Without your replies, they will give me only half the money. Are you so stupid?’
‘Stupid, stupid, yes I am. Ever to have laid eyes on you, ever to have spoken one word to you. How I regret that first call I ever made. How I regret paying my respects to one as craven and selfish as you!’
‘Then we are done! I hate you! I hate you!’
‘Madam, I hate you more!’
Minnie throws her arm up, threatens to beat him with the parasol; he reacts quickly, grabbing her wrist, pushing her away from him. She twists and tugs until her arm is free, then rushes to the railing and climbs up onto the metalwork. She turns her head, a wild look on her face.
‘You threaten to jump?’ A twisted smile on his face. ‘And you think I will believe your insincere acting? It is as hollow and lifeless as your wooden stage appearances.’
‘I’ll do it,’ she says, leaning backwards, the ends of her silk scarf fluttering in the breeze.
‘You witch,’ he says, ‘you’d plunge to your death to spite me?’
But Minnie’s face is ashen, she is making herself queasy. Awkwardly she steps down from the metalwork and into Baxter’
s waiting arms.
‘Send Robert away,’ he whispers in her ear. ‘Tell him to go. Let it be you and me again, Minnie, like we used to be.’
‘Only,’ she turns to face him, her lips murmuring against his, ‘if you let me publish …’
His eyelids flicker; he pushes her roughly away. ‘Have him, lapdog that he is. I’m done with you.’
‘Are you really such a cad as to dismiss a lady when she is so obviously in distress?’ says a voice nearby.
Minnie is panic-stricken. ‘Robert! What are you doing here?’
‘I followed you, what do you think? Come now, Minnie, you’re as white as paint. These heights are not good for your health. You must come down, with me.’
But Minnie backs away. ‘Robert, are you quite all right?’
‘He’s drunk, Minnie,’ says Baxter. ‘Can’t you see him swaying?’
Robert can barely credit the nerve of the man in front of him. ‘If,’ he says, almost falling against her, ‘I am slightly the worse for wear, anyone but you would think it was justified. I wait, day in day out, week in week out, for my instructions, the tedium of it driving me potty – well, I need a little lubrication, don’t I? To ease my boredom?’
‘But this is how you were before, Robert. In London. Except it was while you were on stage!’
‘I was never drunk on stage!’
‘Robert! Don’t pretend. We both know it will be the drink that ruins your career. Look what happened to William. I can’t watch that happen again. I won’t.’
‘A little tipple now and again,’ he scoffs, ‘never did me, or anyone, any harm whatsoever. And you Baxter, what have you to say? How naïve of you to think that you can scuttle around the city, paying calls on my lady here, and imagine that I know nothing about it? Do you think I am quite the callow youth?’
‘I’m sure of it,’ says Baxter. ‘Minnie wouldn’t have anything to do with you, if you possessed a brain. You’d be far too frightening. She prefers her co-stars cretinous. That way she can boss them around.’
Robert frowns, moving to the side of the tower so that he can lean against the rail. ‘You insult me, to my face?’
Baxter smiles. ‘Where would you rather I insulted you?’
‘Pay no attention, Robert,’ Minnie counsels. ‘Baxter is teasing you; don’t rise to the bait.’
‘I am calmness personified,’ Robert declares. ‘I merely wish to ascertain why my companion is sharing intimate moments with another man?’
‘Companion?’ Baxter is scornful. ‘You think she takes you seriously? Oh yes, you’re very attractive in a blue-eyed, blond-haired, boyish kind of way, using fancy phrases and flatteries you thinks she wants to hear – but you’re a nonentity. For all your flamboyance and charm, you’re nothing compared to her other men: you have none of Farrar Fay’s prepossession, none of the wit and style of d’Urvaine and, dare I say it, none of my intellectual stature! You’re a fad, a fancy, a whim!’
‘Take no notice, my darling,’ Minnie says. ‘Baxter and I bumped into each other, in the park below. I told him I was curious to see the view of Paris from the tower, but was fearful of the height. He offered to accompany me.’
‘But I would have taken you, my love,’ says Robert. ‘I offered.’
‘Yes, I know you did, but I wasn’t in the mood yesterday. And today, I am!’ She laughs at her own capricious ways. ‘You know how changeable my moods are. I’ve told you many times that I hate making plans; I prefer to act on impulse.’
‘Don’t we know it?’ Baxter says.
Robert eyes the pair of them. He pushes his hat further back on his head, a scowl transfiguring his face.
‘Now you really do look like a child,’ says Baxter.
‘If you don’t shut up, old man,’ Robert says through gritted teeth, ‘I’ve a mind to chuck you off this tower and damn the consequences. Your corpse squashed flat at the foot would be a sight worth swinging for!’
Minnie laughs nervously. ‘He jests, Baxter, of course.’
‘Of course he does. Nevertheless, I feel I have spent long enough at the top of this draughty tower, and I’ve a mind to make my way down again. I don’t know about you two lovebirds, but I’m feeling rather peckish. If you’ll excuse me …’ Baxter doffs his hat to Robert and bows towards Minnie.
When he’s gone, Minnie becomes fierce. ‘What are you doing, making a show of me like that? In front of Baxter, of all people! How could you?’
‘Minnie,’ Robert wheedles, ‘he made me so damn jealous! I can’t bear to think of him mooning about you. He’s like a decrepit old teddy bear, with glazed eyes and grubby fur.’
‘Stop it.’
‘It’s true Min, he should be tucked up at home in his bed, with his cocoa and his old woman reading to him.’
The breeze is tugging at Minnie’s scarf as she fights to keep it under control. Her irritation mounts. ‘His old woman is the same age as me.’
‘But nowhere near as great a beauty, hm?’
‘Take me down,’ she commands. ‘I have had enough of your jealous moods.’
‘I’ve no doubt,’ says Robert. ‘But if you think you can take me for a fool, you’re much mistaken.’
She rounds on him. ‘And you’d be where – without me? Hm? Answer me that!’
‘Oh I don’t know,’ he retorts. ‘Maybe I’d have a job. A career. An acting role that befits my talent. In London. In the West End. Instead of trailing around behind you, scrabbling about for your favours and titbits. When you can be bothered to notice me at all.’
‘And that, young man,’ Minnie says, ‘is getting harder to manage, by the day.’
‘Then it will please you to know, that I will not be sharing any more of my time with you. Or my favours.’
‘Be quiet! People will hear!’
‘I don’t care,’ he says. ‘You hired a gigolo; if he deems his pay inadequate he must renegotiate the contract.’
‘What contract, what pay?’
‘I want the fare back home, Minnie and I want my expenses paid in full.’
‘How dare you? I’ve already paid for everything!’
‘But I have turned down work to be here, with you.’
‘You had no work, what are you talking about?’
The conversation grows ever more heated as they make their way towards the elevator. ‘You promised me that we would find work while we were here. You said your star shone brightly in Paris, you had contacts, you had writers clamouring for your services. Now I see that the only writer clamouring for your attention is Baxter. And he’s not even putting you in a show. You are the show. You duped me, Minnie. You might have drained the lifeblood out of Farrar Fay, but you won’t suck me dry as well. I’m going home. And if you need it spelling any plainer, I won’t be going home empty-handed.’
‘The reason I have been meeting Baxter,’ Minnie hisses, ‘is because I had business with him. It’s true we have not been discussing a play; we have been conferring over our correspondence. I have been offered a significant sum for publication of our letters.’
‘I know,’ says Robert. ‘I also know that Baxter is refusing to sell. You, my love, are in something of a bind. And I have no intention of standing by while you debase yourself further.’
Inside the elevator they ignore each other in silence, but as soon as they reach the foot of the tower Robert takes hold of her arm. ‘I will escort you to our hotel, Minnie, but after that, our association, pitiful as it is, comes to an end.’
‘You have another woman!’ Minnie gasps.
Robert doesn’t deny it. ‘I have several. All of whom are prettier than you, kinder than you, lovelier than you.’
She shakes him off. ‘You will not accompany me back to the hotel! I forbid you to come anywhere near me!’
‘Easily done. As soon as I’m packed, I’m catching the train north.’
‘Good,’ she says. ‘Not a moment too soon …’
Back on the ground the queue for entry was longer than ever. The arm
ed guards paced the tower’s periphery, minutely scanning the crowds as Charlie wandered slowly out into the park. What was he to make of the scene just witnessed? The row over the correspondence had sparked all sorts of conflict. Had Minnie’s subsequent disappearance anything to do with her threat to publish? Had Baxter done something to stop her? If so, what?
Chapter Nineteen
Next to the glass pyramid outside the Louvre, a model was being prepped for a photo shoot. Standing patiently still as the male stylist touched up her make-up, arranged her hair over the left shoulder, then the right, then back again, she submitted passively while he tugged and pegged her clothes as roughly as if she was a duvet cover that needed changing. A bored assistant held the light-reflecting screen in front of her, but once the camera started clicking she came alive, switching expertly between sultry, seductive and sullen, and all the while demonstrating an instinctual skill in how high to tilt her chin or which direction to angle her shoulder.
It was all over in a brisk ten minutes and within seconds the model had swapped her heels for trainers, pulled on an over-sized jacket and stomped across to the photographer, who was busy packing away his lenses and equipment. She swiped and typed on her phone until he was ready to go and then she tucked her arm in his as they walked towards a waiting taxi on the periphery.
Bored and numb with inactivity, Charlie had been hanging about for well over an hour. He’d seen nothing else of interest all afternoon but as the dusk began to fall and the lights in the buildings began to glimmer awake, the dark outline of the pyramid in front of the gallery began to melt and dissolve from view. As though something very far away suddenly got very close, a new scenario imposed itself on his senses until he was all but subsumed within it ….
Baxter and Minnie walk across the square, deep in intense conversation. Minnie’s clothes are sombre; her jacket and skirt are a matching deep maroon colour. Feathers are pinned to the front of her hat and she wears the dragonfly brooch on her lapel. Her shoes are neatly laced and the heel is a modest, practical one. Her waist is thickened, but her red lips and dark eyes are as striking as ever. She pulls on her gloves as they walk and tugs at the edge of her jacket as though she is cold.
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