Secrets From the Past
Page 32
I glanced at my watch. My sisters would be joining me any moment now. I had suggested we have a quiet drink together before the men arrived. Allen, of course, would be driving over from Nice, but Harry and Geoff were at the house, having arrived from London last night. I had told Zac not to bring them down for another half-hour.
A moment later Jessica and Cara came walking in together, as glamorous as usual, true to Stone tradition. They had chosen silk dresses, as had I. Mine was red, Jessica wore royal blue, and Cara was in emerald green. We were a colourful trio.
I noticed at once that they were wearing their birthday gifts. Harry, Zac and I had given them gold earrings, of a different design to suit their individual taste. Allen’s gift to Jessica had been a string of pearls, and he had given Cara a smart evening bag. Geoff’s present to Cara was a gold locket on a chain, and I smiled to myself, remembering the one I had bought for Jessica when I first started working, because, as Mom had said, she had a ‘heart of gold’. Geoff’s gift for Jessica was a beautiful blue silk shawl, perfect for her because it was her favourite colour.
Cara came to join me near the fireplace, and Jessica went to open the bottle of champagne in the ice bucket. A moment later I was toasting them.
After my first sip, I said, ‘I’ve made a decision about the studio in Venice. I’m going to sell it.’
My sisters were obviously taken aback. I could see that from the expressions on their faces.
Before I could continue, Jessica asked, ‘But why? You’d decided it would be the ideal place for you and Zac to live for the next year, while you finish your book about Dad, and he writes his memoir.’
‘I want to sell the studio to contribute to the cost of the repairs to the house. A whole new red-tile roof, for God’s sake! And what about all those floors and walls that have been damaged by water? And Mom’s octagonal room partially ruined. The bills are staggering already.’
They stared at me, both of them speechless. Then Cara said, ‘You don’t have to contribute to the repairs, Serena. We can manage it between us.’
‘But I—’
‘Now, Pidge, be quiet!’ Jessica exclaimed in a firm tone. ‘Mr Converse finally bought Mom’s pearl-and-diamond necklace for his wife. In fact he bought the whole set, and I got a good price. And there’s the auction of Mom’s other stuff coming up next year. That will bring in good money. We’ll be fine.’
‘Is it because the studio was Val’s? Is something troubling you about that?’ Cara asked.
‘Don’t be silly!’ I replied. ‘I was never angry about Val, or upset by what I found out.’
‘And neither were we,’ Jessica volunteered. ‘I can’t even remember Val. But what I do remember is coming home from boarding school with Cara for the summer vacation, and finding Mom confined to her bed, waiting for your arrival.’
‘We knew she was expecting our baby sister, and we were thrilled to have you at last,’ Cara said.
‘Let’s get back to the studio,’ Jessica interjected. ‘Zac told me he would be glad to settle in Venice for a while, not roaming the world covering wars.’
Before I could answer, Cara cried, ‘Oh what the hell, Serena! Do what you want. It’s yours, it belongs to you. So it’s your decision, not ours.’
‘Yes, it is, Pidge,’ Jessica agreed. ‘Let’s leave it at that.’
I looked from one to the other. ‘If you don’t need the money to help with the repairs, then I guess I might as well keep the studio. A year in Venice will be good for me and Zac.’
‘It will indeed.’ Jessica beamed at me, adding, ‘And you know how happy and relieved we are that you have both left the front.’
‘Zac and I are too, and so is Harry.’ I grinned at them. ‘Especially Harry. Oh look, here he is now.’
‘Good evening, ladies,’ Harry said, adopting a tone of mock formality, coming to stand by the fireplace. ‘And you all look beautiful tonight, as usual.’ An affectionate smile played around his mouth as he said this. ‘I’d love a drop of that champagne.’
‘I’ll get it for you,’ Jessica responded, and went over to the ice bucket, poured a flute of Veuve Clicquot for him.
Before I had a chance to start a conversation with Harry, Geoff arrived with Zac, who both came over to join us. After hugging me, Geoff went to Cara, enclosed her in his arms, kissed her cheek. She smiled up at him, her dark eyes shining; he looked down at her adoringly.
Being in love, I thought, it’s all about being in love. That’s what makes the world go round. How strange life is … I thought of the way Geoff and Cara had met here in this house, her home. How they had immediately ‘glommed onto each other’, as Cara had put it to me, and I had retorted, ‘No kidding!’ wondering at the time how she thought anyone could have missed their reaction to each other. It had been mesmerizing for a few seconds.
I glanced towards the hall, and there was Allen Lambert heading towards the peach sitting room. Jessica saw him the moment I did, had no doubt been watching for him. She rushed across the room, hurrying out to meet him. It was so obvious they were in love. He swept her into his arms, and off her feet, holding her tightly to him. Jessica had a dreamy look on her face. As for Allen, he was beaming, staring at her as if he was enchanted. A happy man. But then we were all happy tonight.
I knew it was going to be one of those lovely occasions when everyone was at ease with one another. No dramas on the horizon, I thought.
I was growing too warm in front of the blazing fire, and edged away. After going to greet Allen, I went over to the French doors and sat down in a chair.
I am a camera with its shutter open, quite passive, recording, not thinking.
As those words, written by Christopher Isherwood so long ago, flew into my mind, I knew that was exactly how I was feeling at this moment in time.
I was the camera mentally recording everything, and needed to remember this special evening long after it had ended. Then I would have those memories to add to those already stored in the computer in my head. So many memories: of growing up in this marvellous old house; of Mom and Dad; of Jessica and Cara. I truly believed that memories were important to all of us – no, vital – because they helped to ease the pain, healed the many losses we all suffered in life. Memories helped to make us whole again.
We had gathered to celebrate my sisters’ birthday, and now as I sat here I could see the future, in a certain sense. My eyes roamed around the room, taking it all in, photographic images which would last forever. Splashes of vibrant colour were alive in the exotic orchids; the votive candles were flickering, bright pools of light on polished wood tables, and standing in a line on the mantelpiece; the cheerful fire; the men all spruced up, casual but smart.
I felt quiet within myself, had a sense of calmness. I scanned the future at this moment and it looked hopeful … Two marriages, at least. Zac and mine in the spring, Jessica and Allen’s in the summer. But what of Cara and Geoff? How would they fare? My eyes focused on them.
They were sitting on the sofa. She was talking, he was listening attentively. His love for her was reflected in his face, in his entire body.
Whether they would marry or not I did not know. For the moment they were together, and if they truly loved each other they would be able to work it out. The logistics of their different lives in two countries, a child called Chloe, Cara’s huge commitment to her business, the business of orchids. So many things to be dealt with, but they would manage.
My gaze rested on Harry. He was in the best of health, handsome, looked twenty years younger than he was. Perhaps he would meet a new woman. The last one had sadly died of leukemia three years ago, and there had been no one else since. But like my father, he attracted women in droves, and two failed marriages hadn’t stopped him from becoming involved before. Harry would be fine, I felt it in my bones.
I saw Zac walking towards me, looking purposeful, intent on some kind of business. Standing in front of me, he said, ‘You look very pensive. A penny for your thoughts.’
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br /> My mouth twitched with hidden laughter. I said, ‘They’re not even worth a penny, you can have them for nothing … I’m not pensive, I was just thinking of the future, what was going to happen to us all. But of course that’s not really possible.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ he agreed. ‘Life gets in the way occasionally. As we both know. But, come on, come with me. I think you have to make a toast to your sisters before we go in for dinner.’
‘You’re right.’ I stood up. Taking my arm, Zac led me across the room.
I went to Jessica and Cara, stood next to them. Smiling, filled with a sudden rush of happiness, I said, ‘Happy Birthday, Jessica, Happy Birthday, Cara. You’re the best sisters anyone could have. As I look back, I know you’ve both always been there for me, as I have for you.’ I smiled, but my smile quavered slightly, and my throat tightened with a flood of nostalgia and emotion.
I took a deep breath, and went on. ‘Do you remember when I was quite little I used to mangle a certain phrase, couldn’t quite get it out right?’
They both nodded, laughter brimming in their dark eyes, which suddenly looked moist to me. And I knew they understood exactly what I was referring to.
‘I meant it then, and I mean it now.’ I put an arm around each of them and drew them closer to me. ‘We love arch others,’ I said.
‘We certainly do,’ they answered in unison.
Loving each other, that’s what family is all about, I thought, and it always will be. I raised my glass to my sisters, and said, ‘To family!’
‘To family!’ the whole room repeated.
May it last forever, I thought, as my sisters wrapped their arms around me and held me safe in their love.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many of my friends often feel the need to sympathize with me, because they think I lead a lonely life as a writer. I immediately point out that it’s a solitary profession rather than a lonely one, because I have so many people bouncing around in my head. They soon go from characters in my imagination to living, breathing people, and that’s when they enter the room where I work, fully formed, demanding to be heard.
I live with them happily for months on end, as I create their complicated lives, force them to deal with their problems, and help them to survive the dramatic events that invariably engulf them.
By the time the book is finished they truly are real people to me; I believe they actually exist, and because I have made them come alive, apparently so realistically, they ring true not only for me but seemingly for my readers as well. And that pleases me. I never lose those characters. They stay with me forever, like old friends I care about.
But once the finished manuscript is on my desk, truly complete, my solitary life ends. I am then joined by a lot of other people, whose job it is to see that the manuscript is properly edited, designed, and finally sent off to the printer. That’s when I finally sigh with relief.
I must now mention all those people who are involved with my books. I owe special thanks to Lynne Drew, Publishing Director of HarperCollins, London, for being a superb editor and sounding board. Her ideas and suggestions are always on target, and her enthusiasm for all of my books is much appreciated. Thanks are also due to Kate Elton, Publisher, Harper Fiction; editor Thalia Suzuma, who is always there to handle all kinds of nitty-gritty, and does so cheerfully and with efficiency, and thanks to her assistant, Martha Ashby. I want to thank my editor Susan Opie, and my copy editor Penelope Isaac.
Elizabeth Dawson, Publicity Director, Harper Fiction, deserves a huge thank you from me for all of her work in the promotion of my books. Roger Cazalet, Publishing Strategy Director, and Oliver Wright, UK Sales Director, also have my thanks, as well as the entire team at HarperCollins in London, who are involved in the publication of my books.
I have to thank Lonnie Ostrow of Bradford Enterprises, for his help with preparing the manuscript for publication. A computer whiz, he gets all of my numerous rewrites and edits onto the computer with good humour, and helps with my research as well. My thanks to Linda Sullivan of WordSmart, the best typist I ever had, who is willing to work weekends when required, which is often, I must admit.
It is always my husband Robert Bradford who gets thanked last, but he really should come first. He is as much a part of my novels as I am myself, listening to plot lines endlessly and without complaint. His insights are invaluable. His is a true partner in every sense, taking care of a huge part of my career. He does so with the skill of a businessman and the creativity of a movie producer. I am lucky that I have his support, love and devotion, and that he never gets upset when a book consumes me and seems to take over the entire household. And he always manages to make me laugh every day, even if it’s at myself.
Books by Barbara Taylor Bradford
Series
THE EMMA HARTE SAGA
A Woman of Substance
Hold the Dream
To Be the Best
Emma’s Secret
Unexpected Blessings
Just Rewards
Breaking the Rules
Series
THE RAVENSCAR TRILOGY
The Ravenscar Dynasty
Heirs of Ravenscar
Being Elizabeth
Others
Voice of the Heart
Act of Will
The Women in His Life
Remember
Angel
Everything to Gain
Dangerous to Know
Love in Another Town
Her Own Rules
A Secret Affair
Power of a Woman
A Sudden Change of Heart
Where You Belong
The Triumph of Katie Byrne
Three Weeks in Paris
Playing the Game
Letter from a Stranger
Copyright
HarperCollinsPublishers
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Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
www.harpercollins.co.uk
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2013
Copyright © Barbara Taylor Bradford 2013
Barbara Taylor Bradford asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Source ISBN: 9780007304165
Epub Edition © February 2013 ISBN: 9780007304288
Version 1
FIRST EDITION
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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