Los Angeles, London, 1986
‘I KNOW WHAT I’m going to do,’ said Miles.
He was lying on the beach at Malibu, salt and sun-streaked; his hair, shaggy from the sea, was full of sand, his eyes suddenly paler blue against his new tan. He had been out on his board for hours; Roz, finally weary of watching him, had been drinking beer and eating enchiladas at Alice’s. When she saw him swoop in for the last time and fall exhausted on to the beach, she went down from the pier and walked over the sand to him.
‘Good?’
He nodded, grinned wearily, ecstatically.
‘Great. I’d really forgotten how great.’
‘What’s it like? Try and tell me.’
‘Sex.’
‘Ah.’
‘Sex with the sun on you.’
‘Sounds good.’
‘Want to try?’
‘Maybe. Tomorrow.’
‘OK. I’ll give you a lesson.’
‘You look tired.’
‘I am.’
‘I bought you a beer.’
‘Thanks.’
He drank it thirstily; Roz looked at him. The sun was coming down now into the sudden dusk below the brilliant dark blue. Great streaks of orange shot through the sky, glanced off the sea. Miles’ profile, sharply beautiful, his perfectly shaped head, was etched against the water.
‘You do look amazing,’ said Roz simply.
He shrugged.
‘You must know,’ she said, ‘how amazing you look.’
‘I suppose I do. It doesn’t matter to me.’
‘It’s like money, Miles. It would if you didn’t have it.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Anyway, you use it.’
‘I do? How?’
She put out her hand, traced the line of his face. ‘Seducing poor helpless maidens.’
‘And you.’
‘And me.’
‘I try not to.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
He turned and looked at her, drinking her in. She was already tanned herself, she wore a white T-shirt to protect her against the sun, a stinging pink bikini bottom. Her nose, after two days, had freckled; her eyes with their brown flecks looked glassy green against her golden skin.
‘You don’t look so bad yourself,’ he said.
‘Thank you.’
‘Oh, jeez, it’s beautiful here. God, I love it. It makes such sense of everything.’
That was when he told her what he had decided to do.
Later, sitting up at the house on Latego Canyon, drinking iced Californian chardonnay, he said, ‘Roz, I love you.’
‘No you don’t,’ she said.
Miles looked hurt.
‘I do. I love you. I think you are just – well, the greatest.’
She smiled. ‘That’s what I call poetry.’
‘Don’t patronize me.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Do you love me?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said, uncharacteristically truthful. ‘I don’t know. I love being with you. I love having sex with you. I just don’t know if I actually love you. I’ve only ever loved Michael. What I feel for you is different from that.’
‘How did you come to marry C. J.?’ he said, unfazed by her answer. ‘He’s such a wimp. Doesn’t make sense.’
‘I don’t think I should tell you.’
‘Oh, come on. I know so much about you. Why should I care? I don’t care what anybody does. You know I don’t.’
‘OK, I’ll tell you. But it isn’t a pretty story.’
She told him. He listened carefully. When she had finished, he grinned.
‘You’re right. It isn’t entirely pretty. Jeez, the things you did for that father of yours. And that company.’
‘Yes, I know. I just feel I have to.’
‘That’s what Phaedria says.’
‘Does she?’ There was real interest in her voice, a spark of genuine empathy in her eyes. ‘I didn’t realize she felt it too.’ Then her face darkened. ‘Bitch,’ she said cheerfully.
‘You really hate her, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘I don’t see why you hate her so much.’
‘She’s taken everything away from me, that’s why.’
‘That’s balls,’ said Miles.
‘It is not balls. First my father. Then the company. Then Michael. I just hate her.’
‘She didn’t really take your father. He was only your father, for Christ’s sake. Surely he had a right to a wife.’
‘Yes, but not a wife as young as me.’
‘What difference does that make?’
‘I can’t explain, but it does. Anyway, obviously she didn’t love him, she couldn’t have. She just wanted his money.’
‘Why couldn’t she love him?’
‘Well, because he was old enough to be her father. Surely you can see that.’
‘No,’ he said, ‘I can’t.’
‘But Miles, you can’t want sex, for one thing, with someone old enough to be your father. It’s disgusting.’
‘I have had some absolutely great sex with women old enough to be my mother.’
She looked at him with intense curiosity.
‘You haven’t.’
‘I have.’
‘Who?’
‘Lots of them. I can hardly remember their names. Hardly knew them.’
‘Miles, tell me.’
‘You don’t want to hear,’ he said shifting his position on the couch, reaching out for the bottle of wine, refilling her glass.
‘Yes, I do.’
‘OK.’ He told her.
‘Miles, that is disgusting,’ said Roz, laughing. ‘You were a gigolo.’
‘Guess so.’
‘Aren’t you ashamed?’
‘Not in the least. I made them real happy. Improved their marriages. Learnt a lot myself. Why should I be ashamed? Got my first Cartier watch that way,’ he added proudly.
‘Did you? What happened to it?’
‘I had to sell it.’
‘Why?’
‘To pay a gambling debt.’
‘Miles! What a degenerate life you’ve led.’
‘Uh-huh. Fancy a little degeneration right now?’
‘Maybe. Tempt me.’
Miles stood up, smiling. He took off his T-shirt, unzipped his jeans, slithered out of them. Roz looked up at him, motionless.
‘Tempted yet?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Not yet.’
‘OK. Take your dress off.’
She took it off. She was naked underneath it. He knelt in front of her, started kissing her breasts, fondling her buttocks.
‘Now?’
‘No,’ she said, laughing, trying to control her quivering, throbbing body. ‘Not yet.’
He lifted her up against him.
‘You smell salty. You smell of the sea. Let’s go take a shower.’
In the shower he lifted her against him, thrusting himself deep into her, upwards, inwards; she felt her entire self invaded with pleasure. The water thundered down on them, confusing her, disorienting her; the only certainty was his penis inside her and the rising, shooting delight. She came swiftly, quickly, almost disappointed by the speed, felt him following her at once. He set her down, looked into her eyes, his own naked with love.
‘That was the aperitif,’ he said. ‘Now we’ll go have the meal.’
Later, much later, lying in his arms, remembering how her body had swooped and soared, remembering how he had said surfing was like sex, Roz wrestled with her conscience. It was a battle she was unfamiliar with. She had no way of knowing which of them would win.
‘There’s something I haven’t told you,’ said Phaedria. ‘Something I’d like to.’
‘What’s that?’
Doctor Friedman looked at her with the odd blend of concern and disinterest that she had come to rely on.
‘At Christmas Miles came to see me. He said he wanted to talk to me about my suggestion that I should form a trust fund for Julia and buy him out.’
‘And?’
‘Well, we went for a walk. He was just talking. I started telling him things. He has that effect on you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you tell him everything. Anything. He just makes you talk. I’m not sure why. He’s the most non-judgemental person I’ve ever met. Apart from you,’ she added with a smile.
‘Go on. Try me.’
‘Well, suddenly he asked me if I’d slept with Michael. Michael Browning.’
‘And?’
‘I got terribly angry.’
‘That isn’t surprising.’
‘No, I know. But – well, suddenly I was screaming at him, really yelling and – well –’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, then I wanted to – to go to bed with him more than I’d ever wanted anything. In my whole life. It was awful. At the same time as being so angry.’
‘Yes?’
‘Don’t you think that’s odd?’
‘Not in the least. Do you? Really? Anger and sex make very good bedfellows.’
‘Maybe. Well, anyway. That’s only part of the story.’
‘So what happened?’
‘Well, I kissed him. Really kissed him.’
‘Was that all?’
‘Yes. But I didn’t want it to be all. I wanted to go on, there and then. It was awful.’
‘So what did you do?’
‘I said something like, oh, shit, leave me alone. And I ran back to the house. And I felt so ashamed.’
‘Why?’
Phaedria stared at her. ‘Well, because I was supposed to be in love with Michael. Grieving for Julian. And here I was just dying for sex, like some awful slut, that’s what Roz called me once, with Miles.
‘Well, that’s not very surprising.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘Well, do you really think so?’
‘Well, yes, I do.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, because it was so animal somehow. I mean, all Miles is is beautiful. He is amazingly beautiful, but that’s all. I mean I’m not in the least in love with him.’
‘Don’t you think that might have something to do with it?’
‘What?’
‘That he is so beautiful?’
‘I don’t know. Should it?’
‘Well, of course.’ Margaret Friedman’s face was calmly surprised. ‘Here you are, a normally sexed young woman, lonely, frustrated, waiting to go and be with your new lover, in a state of some – what shall we say – excitement. Tension? And here is Miles, quite exceptionally attractive, as far as I can make out, making you angry, talking about sex, well of course you’re going to feel excited about him. To want him. I don’t think you have to worry about that at all.’
‘Don’t you?’
‘No. Think about it. Do you?’
Phaedria thought. Then she shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I can’t let myself off the hook that lightly. It was so strong, so violent, what I felt.’
‘Well,’ said Margaret Friedman, ‘judge yourself harshly if you want to. It’s your prerogative. Why do you think it was so violent?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Phaedria slowly. ‘I really don’t know. It was more violent than anything I’ve ever felt for Michael, even. I don’t – well, I don’t often have sexual feelings as strongly as that. Not really. It was – well, strange. Comparable with what I’d felt once for Julian.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. That was the strange thing. One night, quite early, long before we were married, we had a terrible fight, Julian and I. I left, in one of his priceless antique cars. He followed. He was so angry. I thought he would kill me. And I was terribly angry too. And – well, we – we had sex, right in the middle of this fight, in the back of his car, in some lane at three o’clock in the morning, or whatever it was. It was wonderful, but it was very violent. What I felt then was exactly how I felt for Miles that day. That violent. Strange. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.’
‘How was Miles afterwards?’
‘Terrific. Really terrific. He just came and talked to me, told me not to worry, not to get upset. Said he was sorry for making me so angry. Completely defused the situation. He is such a nice person.’ She was silent for a while, then she said, ‘There is something about Miles that gives me the strangest feeling.’
‘Yes? Can you analyse it?’
‘I don’t know. Let’s see. He makes me feel warm, relaxed, kind of settled. He makes me laugh. He makes me see things kind of straight. But it’s not just that. It’s –’ She was silent for a moment.
‘Yes,’ said Doctor Friedman patiently, watching her carefully.
‘It’s like being desperate for a drink. You know? Or – well, I’ve never taken any drugs, except a bit of pot at Oxford, but I imagine it’s like being desperate for a fix. Something you’ve known and liked, needed, and then been deprived of.’
‘Yes?’
‘And well, Miles is like that. Like a drink. A fix. A sort of familiar, predictable pleasure. Can you begin to understand what I mean?’
‘Yes,’ said Doctor Friedman. ‘Yes, I can. Indeed I can.’
Candy was weeping copiously in the suite at Claridge’s. Her father sat helplessly, passing her Kleenex, trying to mop her up, staunch the flow.
‘Honey, it’s probably only a tiff. A silly lovers’ quarrel.’
‘No, Daddy, it’s not, you don’t understand. It’s awful. It’s serious. He’s left me. He’s gone.’
‘Gone where?’
‘Gone to California.’
‘How long for?’
‘I don’t know. And he didn’t even ask me if I wanted to go with him.’
‘He needs whipping,’ said Mason, with the look that fathers of jilted daughters have worn since time immemorial. ‘Whipping. I’ll do it myself if I get the chance. Young good-for-nothing. Nobody pushes my little girl around like that and gets away with it. You come on home with me, honey, and I’ll find him and give him a very nasty dose of his own medicine. You packed?’
‘Yes, Daddy. Well, no. Mostly. I have a few new things. I need a new suitcase.’
‘I’ll buy you one, honey.’ Mason McCall looked around him, looked at the heap of Candy’s shopping, the huge bed, the implications of it all. He pushed them aside, looking frantically for an escape route, back into the safe harbour of an only daughter’s unsullied innocence.
‘Honey, if you’ve been sleeping here, where did Miles sleep? Did he – ?’
Candy snapped out of her crying jag like a stripper out of a G string and with about as much subtlety and panache.
‘Miles didn’t stay here,’ she said, sniffling, dabbing her eyes with a tissue, hiccupping gently, tremulously, in tones that implied she might have had the vapours had her father even entertained such a thought, ‘he stayed with the family.’
‘Well anyway,’ said Mason, taking her back into his arms, choosing to be reassured by this slightly unlikely story, ‘it’s time you came home, honey, we should go home together, I guess to Chicago, and you could go to college there next fall. Would you like that?’
‘No,’ said Candy, bursting into fresh sobs. ‘I want Miles.’
‘He’ll be back, honey,’ said Mason, drawing her head on to his shoulder, stroking her golden hair. ‘He’ll be back. You mark my words. There, there Candy. Daddy knows.’
Next day, Miles took Roz all around the Los Angeles he knew and had grown up in. They drove along the Coast Highway into Santa Monica, and walked out on to the pier. ‘I learnt to skate board down there,’ he said, pointing to the boardwalk, ‘and look, there, see, that’s Big Dean’s Muscle Inn. Muscle Beach was here then, not in Venice. We used to come here on Sundays. Have lunch sometimes and ride the dodgems. They had the best swordfish steaks ever.
‘Our house was down there,’ he said, ‘there was a road through there, just along from the pier, it was called Appian Way, it’s all gone now, in the name of progress. Come on, I’ll show you where my school was.’
They walked up to the car and drove up towards Santa Monica High.
‘This place has a terrific pedigree,’ he said, ‘did you know James Dean lived in Santa Monica with his aunt?’
Roz laughed and said she did not.
‘There it is,’ he said pointing up at the big brick building, ‘that’s Samo High. I was so happy there, and I had this really great girlfriend called Donna, Donna Palladini, she had the most amazing legs you ever saw –’
‘Better than mine?’ said Roz jealously.
‘Yup. Better than yours. She was the first girl I ever screwed, and it was just wonderful. Even the very first time. Probably now she’s married with six kids. Her husband’s a lucky guy.’
‘I don’t know if you actually want to spoil my day,’ said Roz, ‘but you’re doing a great job.’
‘I’m sorry. Come on, let’s go have lunch on the beach at Venice.’
They drove down to Venice, bought Cokes and hot dogs and sat in the sun.
‘Good God,’ said Roz, looking at the hippies, ‘it’s still 1960 here.’
‘Yeah,’ said Miles, ‘I kind of like that.’
‘What, peace and love and all that?’ she said, mocking him.
‘Yup.’ He turned and looked at her. ‘It’s better than all the things you guys get up to,’ he said very seriously.
They stayed there all afternoon, not saying very much; Roz dozed in the hot sun and woke to find Miles hauling her to her feet.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘highlight of the tour. Mulholland Drive at sunset.’
They drove up Santa Monica Boulevard, with the hood of the T-Bird down, looking at the tightly shuttered Rolls and Mercedes that passed them, the women in their dark glasses and shoulder pads, the men in suits, chewing on cigars, the rollerskaters, the joggers, all moving in a graceful, co-ordinated pattern beneath the palm trees and the bright hot sky.
‘Great place,’ said Miles happily. ‘Great place.’
They turned left and up towards the hills; he took a few swift turns and drove into a high twisty road. ‘This is it,’ he said, ‘you wait. Just you wait.’
Abruptly the road snaked round to the right; on the left was a car park. He pulled in, drove towards the wall at its far edge and parked.
‘There,’ he said. ‘There it is. Take a look at that.’
Roz took a look. Below them, curiously two dimensional in its effect, was the neat sprawl of Los Angeles, growing misty in the evening air, beyond that the silver-blue streak of the sea, and to either side the rolling, folded velvety hills. The sky was turning blush orange, pinky grey clouds shot across it; the sun was dropping like a monster leaden fireball into the ocean.
‘God,’ said Roz, ‘I do have to say that it is beautiful.’
‘It is, isn’t it? Just beautiful?’
‘Now what do we do?’ she asked, mildly amused by his rapture.
‘We sit here and neck,’ he said, turning her face towards him. ‘That’s what everybody comes here for.’
Later that night after they had had dinner at Alice’s and gone back to the house and made love and talked and made love again, Roz sat determinedly up in bed and switched on the light.
‘Miles,’ she said, ‘I have something to tell you.’
‘Can’t it wait? I’m kind of washed up.’
‘No, it can’t wait. It’s important. Sit up and listen.’
He looked at her warily. ‘I hope you’re not going to tell me you’re in the club.’
‘I’m not,’ she said, ‘but would you mind if I was?’
‘Probably not. Go ahead. What is it?’
‘Well –’ Roz was not used to confession. ‘Miles, this may make you very angry. Shocked even. But I have to tell you. I just do.’
‘OK, I’m listening.’
‘Oh, God, Miles, it’s really bad.’
‘Can’t be that bad.’
‘It’s bad. You’ll hate me.’
‘Try me.’
‘All right. Miles, the consortium. The Zürich consortium.’
‘Yeah?’
‘The one you’ve decided to sell to.’
‘Yeah?’
‘It’s me. I dreamed it up. Laundered the bank account. Cooked the books. Planned to buy it back when you’d gone.’
He looked at her in complete silence, just studying her, contemplating her, as if she were some strange alien creature he had to familiarize himself with, his face expressionless. Roz sat, frozen, looking back at him, her gaze steady, waiting for dislike, mistrust, shock, to hit her. Then slowly, so slowly it was like the sun coming up through a deep thick mist, Miles smiled, his most glorious, joyous, beatific smile.
‘I thought it was,’ he said.
It was Letitia who put two and two together and made a very exact four. She phoned Claridge’s, wishing to invite Miles and Candy to dinner, and was told Mr Wilburn had checked out.
Mildly surprised, she phoned Phaedria. ‘Darling, did you know Miles had gone?’
‘Yes and no,’ said Phaedria carefully. ‘He was very very fed up at the weekend. I asked him and Candy both down to Marriotts and he said he wasn’t fit for human company. He’d been saying for weeks he wanted to go back to California. Maybe they’ve just gone.’
‘No, well, she hasn’t gone anyway. Candy’s still here. I spoke to her. Her father’s with her. He’s taking her back to Chicago.’
‘Good heavens. Well, he certainly didn’t say anything about it to me. We had lunch last Thursday.’
‘Hmm,’ said Letitia. ‘Rum, I would say. Have you had any kind of decision from him?’
‘Nothing. I’d begun to think I never would. I thought his next move would be into Julian’s old office.’ She laughed just a little too casually. ‘Well, maybe he’s gone off to think.’
‘Maybe. I’ll call Roz. She’ll know. Thick as thieves, those two. It worries me sometimes.’
‘Why?’ said Phaedria.
‘I don’t know. I really don’t know.’
Letitia phoned the house at Cheyne Walk. Mrs Emerson was not at home, said Maria, the Spanish housekeeper. She had gone away for a few days.
‘Good gracious,’ said Letitia, ‘this is very sudden.’
‘Yes, madam. She’s sent Miranda and Nanny up to Scotland. She said she had to go to America.’
‘Did she indeed?’ said Letitia. ‘All right, Maria, thank you.’
Uncomfortably aware she might be foolishly rushing in where an angel would greatly fear to tread, she dialled Eliza’s number. Peveril answered.
‘Peveril, it’s Letitia. How are you, dear?’
‘Better since this morning,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Bagged twenty brace of pheasants, before lunch. Not bad, eh?’
‘How clever you are Peveril,’ said Letitia. ‘I got a couple myself this morning.’
‘Well done, my dear. Where was that? I didn’t know there was any shooting near you.’
‘Fortnum’s,’ said Letitia cheerfully. ‘Is Eliza there?’
‘Yes, she is. Doing something foolish in the Long Gallery. Measuring it up for African blinds, I think she said. I wish she’d leave it all alone. Still, it keeps her happy,’ he added hastily.
‘Austrian,’ said Letitia.
‘What’s that, my dear?’
‘Austrian blinds. Anyway, African or Austrian they’ll look perfectly frightful. Let me talk to her.’
Eliza came on the phone. ‘Hello, Letitia. Are you all right?’
‘Yes, but Peveril won’t be, darling, if you put Austrian blinds in his Long Gallery. Grounds for divorce, I would have said. You’re in Scotland, dear, not Kensington.’
‘Oh, Letitia, don’t be ridiculous. They’ll transform the place.’
‘Indeed they will,’ said Letitia. ‘Well, I suppose one man’s meat, and all that. In my book Austrian blinds are very poisonous indeed. Now then, darling, is Roz there?’
‘No, she isn’t,’ said Eliza a trifle coldly. ‘She’s gone to the States. She went yesterday.’
‘Ah. Which side?’
‘Washington.’
‘Indeed? Are you sure?’
‘Perfectly. She was very specific about it. She has to do some work on the hotels and apparently the Washington Morell is the best-run, the most successful, the most profitable and so on and so forth, so she was off to take a close look at it, as a role model, so to speak. Well, that’s what she said.’
‘I see. So how long is she there for?’
‘Well, we’ve got Miranda and Nanny for a week. I think she was going on to New York.’
‘I see. Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. I had a little idea for her, that’s all. It can wait.’
Very well aware that it was nothing to do with her at all what Roz did and with whom, Letitia phoned the Washington Morell. The manager said Mrs Emerson had been there for twenty-four hours and had left, he thought for New York.
The manager of the Morell, New York, was not expecting Mrs Emerson at all.
Letitia phoned Phaedria back.
‘Darling, do you think it’s at all a possibility that Roz and Miles might have gone off together somewhere? On some business trip? Roz is missing too, investigating hotels.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Phaedria, oddly aware of an icy, quite illogical dread creeping down her spine, ‘but they have got very close in the last few weeks. Maybe Roz’s secretary knows where she is. I’ll ask her tomorrow.’
Lucy Dudley said Mrs Emerson had told her she was on a whistle-stop tour of some of the major chains of hotels in the States, and wouldn’t be back until the following Wednesday; she had no numbers and no itinerary; and that Mrs Emerson was calling her every day for urgent messages, if Lady Morell wanted to leave one. She was adamant that she had not been given an address.
As Roz normally never went out so much as to get her hair cut without leaving contact numbers in triplicate and a maze of alternatives in the unlikely event of her not returning to the office within the hour, her behaviour was about as much out of character as if she had been found walking down Bond Street stark naked in the company of the Hare Krishna brethren.
Phaedria called Letitia and said she was beginning to think she was right, but did it really matter very much (feeling, indeed knowing, that somehow it did). Letitia had replied, very much too lightly (also feeling that it probably mattered greatly), that of course not, that what they did was their own business and none of them had any right to interfere in it whatsoever.
But Letitia lay awake until the dawn broke, wide eyed, distressed, wondering why she was so troubled by what was happening, and what she might be able to do about it; and Phaedria, after an equally sleepless night and without being entirely certain why, called Doctor Friedman and asked her for an urgent appointment.
‘By way of a penance,’ said Miles to Roz, after breakfasting from a huge basket of strawberries and melons he had fetched early from the store for her, ‘you have to come and meet a very old friend of mine.’
‘I do hope she doesn’t have amazing legs and a talent for screwing,’ said Roz, smiling at him.
‘He doesn’t. I’ve never seen his legs, they are always encased in a long skirt –’
‘For God’s sake, is he some kind of transvestite?’
‘He is not, and don’t interrupt. And he has no idea at all what a screw might feel like. He is a man of God and he runs the refuge in Santa Monica, and he was my grandmother’s best friend. My mother’s too,’ he added more soberly. ‘I really want you to meet him.’
‘All right. I’ll come.’
He looked at her and leant forward and kissed her.
‘You look different this morning.’
‘I feel different.’
She did. For the first time in her entire life, she felt accepted and liked, loved, for what she was. Even with Michael she had not ever let her guard right down; had kept what she felt the very worst of herself, the most devious, the most selfish, the most ruthless, hidden. Miles had taken her and with one careless, loving piece of acceptance had turned her into a person as uncomplicatedly, as happily transparent, as he was. If he could take her as she was, then she could take herself. All her life she had felt the real Roz was valueless, not worth loving. Now suddenly someone infinitely important to her was telling her she was. She smiled back at him, radiant, shining with happiness.
‘I love you, Miles.’
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘When I said that to you, you told me I didn’t.’
‘Well? What are you going to tell me?’
‘I’m going to tell you,’ he said, kissing her again, ‘that I think you do.’
‘Good.’
Father Kennedy was sitting in the sunshine, as he always did in the morning, dozing peacefully. He was a very old man suddenly. Miles, who had not seen him for four years, was shocked at how he had aged.
‘Father Kennedy,’ he said, touching him lightly on the arm. ‘Good morning. How are you?’
The old man woke with a start; his faded blue eyes opened, alighted on Miles, his confusion cleared and an expression of great joy came over his face.
‘Miles! Miles Wilburn! This is a wonderful thing. How are you, Miles, and how is your grandmother? And what are you doing here?’
‘I’m looking up old friends, Father. A great deal has happened to me.’
‘Well, now, and I know quite a lot of them. I had a visit from young Lady Morell, several visits, and her baby too. So did they find you, Miles, and whatever has become of you down there in Nassau, that none of our letters were answered and we were left to imagine you had dropped off the face of the earth?’
‘What happened, Father, was my grandmother’s friend, Mrs Galbraith. She decided to keep a few letters to herself. But she has been very good to my grandmother, looked after her like a mother. So I kind of forgave her.’
‘And is she all right now, Mrs Kelly? I miss her and our little chats very sadly.’
‘She’s well, Father, but I think you would find her very changed. She is – well, confused. I had thought to bring her back here, but I don’t feel I should now. She is happy with Mrs Galbraith and it would be kind of wrong to disturb her. I’m going to see her next week.’
‘Then give her my very best wishes. Oh, I should love to see her again. Maybe I can go down to Nassau one of these days, on a small vacation, and visit her.’
‘She’d like that, Father. And how are you, and how is the refuge?’
‘I am very well, Miles, and the refuge is doing quite nicely. Lady Morell has been very good to us indeed and arranged for some money to come every month. It’s a great help. She is an extremely nice person, wouldn’t you say? Or have you not yet met her?’
‘Oh, I’ve met her, Father, I certainly have, and yes, she is an extremely nice person. Isn’t she Roz?’
Roz looked at Father Kennedy and then at Miles; he grinned at her.
‘Go on, Roz,’ he said as if she were a small child. ‘Tell Father Kennedy what a nice person Phaedria is.’
‘Very nice,’ said Roz. The words were forced out, but she managed to smile. Dear God, she thought to herself, I have come a long way.
‘And who is this?’ said Father Kennedy, beaming at Roz. ‘Or am I not allowed to be introduced to her?’
‘Of course, Father. Forgive me. I was thinking, as you’d met Phaedria, you’d know Roz. Father Kennedy, this is Roz Emerson. Now then, let me tell you who she is. You will be really surprised. Really, seriously surprised. You remember Mr Dashwood?’
‘Now Miles, as if I would not remember Mr Dashwood. He was such a good man,’ he said, turning to Roz, ‘so generous, he did so much for Miles and for Mrs Kelly. I miss him. Tell me, is all well with him, and have you found him as well, Miles?’
‘Not exactly, Father, it’s a very peculiar story. Could we maybe have some tea and I’ll tell you all about it.’
‘Of course. Now what am I thinking of? Miles, you go and get the tea, you remember where the kitchen is, and I will talk to this young lady while you are gone. Come and sit down here, my dear, and tell me what you think of California.’
‘I think it’s wonderful,’ said Roz. ‘Simply wonderful.’
‘So now, did you know Mr Dashwood? Was he a friend of yours?’
‘Well,’ said Roz, ‘in a way. He was my father.’
‘Your father?’ The old man looked startled.
‘Yes. But you see, we didn’t know him as Hugo Dashwood.’
‘You didn’t?’
‘No. It’s very complicated. Perhaps Miles should explain.’
Miles came back with the tea. He put it down, sat on the grass beside Roz. Father Kennedy’s old face was puzzled, troubled.
‘Miles, you have to explain all this to me. I’m a foolish old man. I don’t understand what Miss –’
‘Roz,’ said Roz.
‘Roz is telling me. Are you saying that Mr Dashwood was going under another name in England all the time?’
‘That’s right, Father. It all sounds the most ridiculous nonsense, I know, but it’s true. Like all the best facts it’s stranger than fiction. Only he wasn’t going under another name in England. His name there was his real name. He was called Julian Morell. That was the real person. Hugo Dashwood was a pseudonym. God knows why he used it. But he did.’
‘So Lady Morell, she is married to Mr Dashwood? Have I got this right now?’
‘Yes, I suppose so. Only she is not married to him any more. He’s died.’
‘Died? Yes, of course, because Lady Morell had recently been widowed. That’s why she was looking for you, of course, because of the will.’
‘That’s right, Father.’
The old man turned to Roz. ‘I am sorry, my child. Sorry you have lost your father. Sorry to have been so tactless. You must forgive me. All that business with the other name, very upsetting, very difficult for you.’
‘Of course. Anyway, it was a while ago, I’m feeling much better now.’
‘Father Kennedy,’ said Miles, ‘the whole thing is still very mysterious. You might be able to help. Have you any idea, any idea at all, why Hugo Dashwood – that is Julian Morell – should have left me a lot of money? A share in his company?’
Father Kennedy looked at them both. His mind was racing, he felt sick, trapped. He must keep calm. He must remember that he had always told himself that Lee might have been mistaken, that the doctors might have been mistaken, that Dean and not Hugo Dashwood, or this Julian Morell, had been Miles’ father.
He closed his eyes briefly, calling on the Almighty for aid; then he opened them again and smiled serenely at Miles.
‘Well now, Miles, he was very very fond of you. You know that. And very generous to you. Putting you through college and everything. And when your parents died, he felt he had to take care of you, keep an eye on you. Your mother asked him to, and he promised. He took that promise very seriously. And kept it. And he was very proud of you, Miles. I think it is entirely to be expected that he should remember you in his will.’
‘I suppose so, Father. But it isn’t just remembering. It’s a lot, an awful lot of money.’
‘Then I can only say I hope you will use it wisely, Miles. Money can be a terrible thing, if it is wrongly used.’
‘I’ll try, Father. I’ll take a leaf out of Phaedria’s book maybe, and give some to you for a start.’
‘That would be extremely welcome, extremely. My goodness, the way we are going, this will shortly be the richest organization in the United States of America.’
‘Excellent. In good hands, that’s for sure. But also, Father, can you think why he left me the money in such a roundabout way? Why not be more direct about it?’
‘Miles, when you have lived as long as I have, and seen as many things happen, you will not be surprised or even puzzled by anything at all. People do many strange things for many strange reasons, which are not for others to question and which seem perfectly good and sound to them at the time.’
‘I suppose so,’ said Miles. ‘Well anyway, it doesn’t really matter too much. And something very good has come out of it.’
‘And what might that be?’
‘Well,’ said Miles, reaching out, taking Roz’s hand, ‘Roz and I have found one another.’
A terrible fear had invaded the old man’s heart. He sought desperately to make Miles dispel it.
‘Yes, it is always a wonderful thing, to find a new friend.’
‘Well, yeah, I guess that’s so, but Roz and I are more than friends, Father. We’re – well, maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this, Father, in case you tell me I’m in mortal sin or something, I know in the eyes of the church it is a sin, but, we’re in love and we’ve been living together, and – well, Roz doesn’t exactly know this, yet, but I’m planning on marrying her as soon as ever I can.’
When Phaedria got into the office next morning, tired and inexplicably sick at heart, Sarah Brownsmith was looking worried.
‘I’m glad you’re here, Lady Morell. Someone’s been calling you from California. A man. He sounded quite old. With an Irish accent.’
‘Father Kennedy,’ said Phaedria, ‘I wonder what he wants.’
‘He wants you to phone him. He sounded rather upset.’
‘Oh, dear. He’s such a nice, sweet old man. He was so kind to me. I wonder what’s happened.
‘Here’s his number. It must be – let’s see, goodness, midnight there. It must be urgent.’
‘Yes,’ said Phaedria. ‘Yes, it must.’
She phoned the number. It was the refuge.
‘Father Kennedy? This is Phaedria Morell. Father, is something wrong?’
‘It is, my child, it’s terribly wrong. Or at least it might be.’
‘Whatever is it? Can I help? Please tell me.’
‘It’s very difficult, I can only tell you a little. I would be breaking every kind of confidence to tell you more. But you are a sensitive and a clever girl, and perhaps you will know what to do.’
‘Father, you have to tell me what the matter is. Please. And I’ll try to help.’
‘Very well. Today, your friend Miles came to see me.’
‘Miles?’
‘Miles. And he had another young lady with him.’
Fear struck out at Phaedria. She sat up rigidly on her chair, trying to keep calm.
‘Another young lady?’
‘Yes. Her name was Roz. You know her, don’t you?
‘I do. Yes.’
‘She is the daughter of your husband, and of my friend, Miles’ friend, Hugo Dashwood. As I still have to think of him. I’m sorry.’
‘That’s all right, Father. Go on please.’
‘Well, Miles was telling me about the legacy and so on. It was very good of your husband, very good indeed, to leave him that money. But –’
‘Yes, Father, but what? You’re not making any sense.’
‘Well, Miles told me, and God forgive me I didn’t know what to say to him, so I said nothing, nothing at all, that he and Roz were in love. And that they were going to get married.’
‘Married! Roz and Miles? Oh, Father, no, that can’t be true.’
‘He told me himself, sitting here on the grass, holding her hand. And they are a nice, a very nice young couple. But, Lady Morell, the marriage cannot be. It must not be. Now you must not ask me why. I am not in a position to tell you, and besides that, I may be mistaken in my thinking. But for Miles’ sake and for Roz’s you have to stop them marrying. Cohabiting even. I suspect, and God forgive me if I am wrong, they are, they could be, they could well be, in mortal sin.’
‘Father, I can’t stop them marrying. They are grown people. I had no idea there was any question of it, none of us did, but if they want to marry, then they will. Nobody, least of all I, can stop them.’
‘They must be stopped,’ he said, ‘they must.’
He sounded so distressed that Phaedria felt frightened.
‘All right,’ she said, largely to soothe him. ‘All right, I will stop them. Somehow. I promise. Please don’t worry, Father, I will talk to people here, to the family, and we will stop them.’
‘Oh,’ he said, and she could hear him relaxing, calming across the wires. ‘Thank God. I knew you would know what to do. God bless you. I will pray for you. And for them. The poor poor things. So much in love.’
‘Thank you, Father,’ said Phaedria, reflecting even in her panic that it was going to take quite a bit of intervention on the part of the Almighty to enable her to stop Roz marrying Miles if that was indeed what she had decided to do. ‘Now do calm yourself. Everything will be perfectly all right, I’m sure. I will see to it. Goodness, it must be late there now. You must go to bed and sleep and just not worry any more.’
‘I will indeed, Lady Morell. Thank you. Good night to you now. And please call me if you need me.’
‘Good night, Father,’ said Phaedria, wishing fervently it was midnight in London as well as Los Angeles and that she could take an extremely strong sleeping pill and remain unconscious for many hours. ‘Sleep well. And don’t worry.’
She put the phone down and sank into her chair. She felt as if she was in the midst of some appalling storm raging round her, knocking her senseless this way and that. What was she to do, and who could she turn to? She had a dreadful, a terrible awestruck feeling that she knew exactly why Father Kennedy was so distraught, that she was waking not from her nightmare but to it, and she could hardly begin to summon the courage to confront it.
She looked up at Sarah Brownsmith, who had just walked back into the office.
‘You look terrible, Lady Morell.’
‘Thank you, Sarah.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. But you do look very white. Was that bad news?’
‘In a way, Sarah, yes.’ She sank her head on to her hands. Sarah was alarmed.
‘Can I get you something? A coffee? Brandy?’
‘Yes,’ said Phaedria, looking up with something approaching a smile on her face. ‘Yes, I really think the occasion warrants a brandy. And a coffee. And Sarah, could you call Doctor Friedman, and see if she can see me this morning. Tell her it’s desperate. She did say she couldn’t but I have to talk to her. I absolutely have to.’
‘I don’t think your friend Father Kennedy was very pleased with your news,’ said Roz, laughing, as they drove away. ‘Poor old man, he looked terrible.’
‘Yes, he did,’ said Miles, looking thoughtful. ‘Really terrible. Shocked, I mean seriously shocked. I can’t think why. Poor old man.’
‘Maybe he isn’t well,’ said Roz. ‘He didn’t look well.’
‘He didn’t, did he? Well, I’ll call in again tomorrow and see if he’s all right. He might have a weak heart or something. The news may have had nothing to do with it. Or maybe he’s just a bit confused. Like my grandmother. These old people do get – well, odd.’
‘Maybe. Anyway, that was some proposal. I mean really romantic. You could have warned me.’
‘Oh,’ he said, smiling, ‘I think I have. Lots of times. If you’d been looking out for it.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Anyway, let me try and do it better.’ He stopped the car, pulled in to a side road, and looked at her without moving, without smiling.
‘Roz,’ he said. ‘Roz, I love you. Please will you marry me?’
‘Yes, Miles,’ she said. ‘Yes, I will.’
‘Doctor Friedman, I think now I really have to ask you some questions and you really have to answer them.’
‘Really? Why?’ Doctor Friedman was as cool, as unruffled as ever.
‘Please stop asking me questions.’
‘It’s the only way I can help you.’
‘Well,’ said Phaedria, ‘I’m not so sure about that. But anyway, let me ask you one. Who is Miles? Do you know?’
‘Don’t you?’
‘No. No, I don’t.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Think, Phaedria. Think hard. Don’t run away from it.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Don’t you?’
‘No,’ she almost screamed the word. ‘Yes, yes, I do. Oh, God. I just hate this so much.’
‘You don’t have to go on.’
‘I do. I do, though. You don’t know . . .’
‘Don’t know what?’
‘About Roz. And Miles.’
‘Roz and Miles?’ For the first time Dr Friedman reacted. Phaedria felt it, saw it. That told her everything. But still she turned from it.
‘Yes. Roz and Miles. They want to, they’re going to, get married.’
‘Ah.’
‘So –’
‘So, yes, we have to go on. Very well. And of course you know who Miles is, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ said Phaedria, with a shuddering sob, ‘yes, I do. He’s Julian’s son. Isn’t he?’
‘Yes. Yes he is.’
Tears filled Phaedria’s eyes. She shivered suddenly, looked at Doctor Friedman almost fearfully. ‘Could I – could I have a drink?’
‘Of course. What do you want? Brandy?’
‘Yes, please. God –’ She smiled, brushing the tears away. ‘I’ve had one this morning already. I’ll be an alcoholic soon at this rate.’
‘There are worse things to be.’ She pressed her buzzer. ‘Joan, bring us two large brandies in, will you? And some coffee. Now then –’ she looked at Phaedria – ‘is it really so bad. For you? And didn’t you, surely you realize now, didn’t you know all along?’
‘Yes. No. You see we all wondered, obviously, we were bound to. But Letitia, his mother, you know –’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘Letitia and Eliza, and Camilla, she’s –’
‘Yes, I know who Camilla is.’
‘Oh God,’ Phaedria looked at her, and managed to smile. ‘Is there anything about us you don’t know? Well, we all checked out some dates, the time Julian would have had to be with Miles’ mother. He wasn’t. He was either in New York or in England.’
‘Phaedria, there’s no doubt, I’m afraid. No doubt at all. Miles was obviously born either a little early or a little late. Which is the more likely, I wonder? Perhaps he will know.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Well, is it really so bad, after all. For you?’
‘No, it’s not so bad for me. But terrible, awful for Roz. I just don’t know how she’ll bear it.’
‘How did you find out about that?’
‘Father Kennedy, an old priest in Santa Monica, who had known Miles and his parents ever since he was born, and who obviously knew, rang me, very distressed. Miles had been to see him with Roz. They told him they were going to get married. He told me I had to stop them.’
‘But he didn’t tell you why?’
‘No. Not in so many words. But I – well, I suppose I knew.’
‘Of course. You must have known many times. Whatever the evidence of the dates. When you first heard about him in the will. When you first saw Miles. When you felt that very strong attraction for him. Well, you would. He is probably very like his father. You loved his father and you were very physically involved with him. And you said to me, something like Miles made you feel as if you’d had a fix of something you had –’ she looked at her notes – ‘known and liked and been deprived off. Well, of course he would.’
‘Yes, I suppose he would.’ She was relaxing now, calm with relief that it was over, in the open.
‘Is he very like his father?’
‘Not at all, and yet terribly. He’s straightforward and relaxed and blond and blue-eyed, so not at all. But then he’s amazingly quick and intuitive and charming and makes you talk and talk, and very very sexy, so yes, very like him. There is something about him, the eyes, I suppose, that is totally Julian. Even though they’re the wrong colour.’
‘I’m amazed none of you have worked it out before.’
‘Well, we did. I told you. But then – well yes, you’re right. Babies don’t always come at the proper time. Look at Julia. Maybe he was early, like her. But then you see, on the surface he is so very different. He couldn’t act or look less like him. Could you –’ she took a long drink of brandy – ‘could you tell me about it now? Have you always known?’
‘Yes, for a long time. He first came to me when Lee had just died. He felt utterly miserable. It was a bad time altogether for him, something had gone wrong for him here, something personal, some affair this end as well. But I think he really loved Lee. Really loved her. She was obviously an extraordinary person. Very brave and lovely. And you see, he was unable to grieve openly. At all. So it became almost unbearable for him. That was what drove him to me. It was the only release. Otherwise it would have been an unthinkable thing for a man like him to do.’
‘I suppose so. Poor Julian.’
‘Yes. And then he was wracked with guilt over Miles’ father’s suicide.’
‘Which was – because – ?’
‘Well, yes. He found out. About Miles. Some fool doctor told him he would never have been able to father a child. He put two and two together. That was tragic. Wicked.’
‘Poor Miles. We must keep that from him.’
‘If we can.’
‘And then after Lee’s death, he would have given anything to have brought Miles out into the open, to have told everyone, to have given him a home, his name. But he had promised Lee, and besides it would have meant telling Miles. Very painful for a child. On top of his mother’s death. So – more silence.’
‘Yes.’
‘The whole thing started as a bet with himself. He decided to pretend to be someone else and see if he could sustain the fiction for a bit. But he fell in love with Lee, made her pregnant, and the whole thing got out of hand.’
‘That’s exactly what Letitia said must have happened.’
‘His mother?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you think she knew too? I mean really knew. Despite the dates.’
‘Perhaps. She was very worried about Roz and Miles.’
‘How do you think she’ll cope with it all?’
‘Oh, wonderfully,’ said Phaedria, ‘we don’t have to worry about Letitia. She could fight World War Three single handed.’
‘Good. It sounds, from what you say of Roz, she may need to.’
‘So did he go on seeing you?’ asked Phaedria. ‘Julian, I mean. All those years?’
‘On and off. Yes. I think he became addicted to me.’
‘I can see why,’ said Phaedria with a half smile.
‘He loved you very much,’ said Doctor Friedman suddenly. ‘Very much indeed. He said he had never felt anything quite like what he felt for you. He saw you truly as a new beginning.’
‘Oh, God,’ said Phaedria, and the tears started to flow again. ‘Oh, God, don’t.’
‘Why not? It’s important. It’s good you should know that, surely?’
‘Yes, but I wasn’t a new beginning. If I was, I soon ended again. I behaved badly. I was selfish, difficult. Fooled around with someone. Oh, not properly. But enough to make him angry and jealous.’
‘Phaedria, you mustn’t be so hard on yourself. You were very young and thrown into an impossible situation. You tried. He did far worse things. Manipulating you and Roz. Sleeping with Camilla North.’
‘God, he told you all that?’
‘Oh, yes, by the end of his life he was very seriously mixed up. I was worried about him. I saw him very frequently.’
‘So what about the will? For God’s sake, why did he do that to us all?’
‘He was very angry with you. With you and Roz. I don’t think he had any idea how difficult she made things for you. He felt you were both just behaving very badly. At one point he really did think you were having an affair. And he made that will to punish you. Both of you. In a fit of dreadful rage. After he’d come to LA to find you. Remember?’
Phaedria nodded.
‘And he’d seen Miles by then. Or heard from him anyway. He was quite determined to go and see him, tell him everything, urge him to come and join the family. He felt he’d be able to cope by then. Oh, of course he always meant to make another, more reasonable will, but he said doing that one had been therapy. He said he’d modify it when he’d told Miles and introduced him to the family. He thought he had plenty of time. Then I think when you found him in bed with Camilla North, and left him, he just forgot it. He was so appalled at what he’d done. He just kept postponing remaking it, until something was resolved. It’s a big thing, of course, making a will if you’re as rich as he was. And the earlier one he’d made was before he’d met and married you, so he knew he couldn’t revert to that.’
Phaedria looked at her. ‘Why didn’t you tell us all before? When you first heard he’d died, when I came to see you? It would have saved so much unhappiness.’
‘If I’d known about Miles and Roz, believe me I would have done. But apart from that, I couldn’t, Phaedria. I see my position as very like that of your friend Father Kennedy. I have to safeguard confidences.’
‘But Julian was dead. You weren’t betraying him.’
‘I would have been betraying you if you hadn’t been able to deal with it. I had to learn about you. There was no rush. I couldn’t keep you from the real pain. Of Julian’s death and the will. And I knew you would work towards the discovery by yourself in time. I thought that was much better. I knew you had come to rely on me, would call on me if you really needed me.’
‘How did you know?’ said Phaedria, angry, hostile. ‘I might have done something desperate.’
‘No,’ said Doctor Friedman, and she was smiling into Phaedria’s rage. ‘I could see you were very strong. I wasn’t worried about you at all. Not seriously.’
‘Well anyway,’ said Phaedria, still half angry, ‘what do I do now? Who do I tell? Who tells Roz? And Miles? Oh, it’s awful. Please tell me what to do.’
‘Well, it certainly shouldn’t be you to tell Roz. Who is she really closest to?’
‘Letitia.’ Phaedria spoke without hesitation.
‘And you think she could stand it?’
‘Yes, I do. But maybe you should talk to her. I don’t think I could bear it.’
‘All right. Bring her to see me. Let me see – this evening, about six.’
‘Thank you. And how about Miles and Roz? We should get them home. The longer it goes on, the worse it will be.’
‘Yes. Can you contact them?’
‘Only through Father Kennedy. He will have a phone number or at least could go out to the house.’
‘Then ask him to do that. To get them to call Letitia.’
‘All right. What a nightmare.’
‘In a way,’ said Doctor Friedman. ‘But then, waking up from a nightmare is such a relief, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose,’ said Letitia, sitting very upright in Doctor Friedman’s office, ‘that you are going to tell me that Miles is my grandson.’
‘Yes,’ said Doctor Friedman. ‘Yes, I am.’
Letitia was silent for a while. Phaedria reached out and took her hand.
‘Are you all right, Mrs Morel!?’
‘Oh, perfectly,’ said Letitia, brushing away a tear, smiling brightly, a trifle tremulously at Doctor Friedman. ‘I suppose I knew all along. I suppose we all did. It was such a relief when we managed to persuade ourselves it was impossible. There was something, just something about him that was Julian.’
‘Yes,’ said Phaedria, ‘I felt it too.’
‘Oh, darling,’ said Letitia, turning to her. ‘I was so hoping you would fall in love with Miles. That would have been so absolutely perfect. But I suppose life isn’t like that?’
‘No,’ said Doctor Friedman. ‘Not often.’
Letitia was silent for a while. ‘Poor Julian,’ she said. ‘Poor man. How dreadful to think he was so unhappy. So confused.’
‘Yes,’ said Phaedria, ‘that’s what I feel. And so dreadful that I failed to de-confuse him. Make him able to tell me, to talk.’
‘You can’t blame yourself for that,’ said Letitia, ‘you came into this very late. But I have to. It was those old sins again, you see.’
‘Old sins?’ said Doctor Friedman.
‘Yes. It’s an old Irish saying: Old sins cast long shadows. I was talking to Phaedria about it the other day. An old sin of mine has cast a very long and dreadful shadow, I’m afraid.’
And she dropped her head into her hands and began to weep.
‘Letitia, darling, don’t, please don’t cry,’ said Phaedria, going over to her, putting her arms round her. ‘You are the lifeblood of this family, the person we turn to, the person we all of us love. How can you talk about sin? You have done so much good to us all, we couldn’t survive without you.’
‘Yes, and so much harm too,’ said Letitia, reaching out and taking the tissue Doctor Friedman was offering. ‘Thank you, my dear. I note you are not offering me any palliatives for my guilt.’
‘I don’t ever blame or condone,’ said Margaret Friedman, smiling at her. ‘I have seen too much. I can only tell you that a person is many many things, Mrs Morell, and that genes and upbringing are only a part. We may take our children, warmly clothed and well fed, loved and cared for, to the crossroads, but then they become themselves, make their own way, take their own turnings. Your son did many good, brilliant things; he brought happiness and pleasure to countless people. Not just commercially, he made huge donations to charity, set up trust funds, founded research projects – well, you know as well as I. You do not sit complacently and take any credit for that; neither should you take the blame for the rest.’
‘Well,’ said Letitia, with a sigh, ‘I’m afraid I do. But thank you anyway. Now then,’ she said, visibly pulling herself together, ‘I suppose you want me to tell Roz?’
‘Yes,’ said Phaedria. ‘Yes, I’m afraid we do.’
Roz and Miles were lying on the lawn when they saw Father Kennedy’s elderly Ford lurching its way up the hill. They had just come back from the beach; Miles had been trying to teach Roz to surf, without success.
‘I don’t know,’ he said, ‘that I can marry a woman who can’t catch a wave.’
‘I’ll learn,’ said Roz. She looked at him more seriously. ‘You won’t mind about the company, will you, Miles?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You won’t mind me carrying on with it? Running it? Fighting for it?’
‘Of course not. I don’t care what you do, as long as you love me and make love to me and have a baby every year.’
‘Hmmm. That might be hard to fit in. Could it be every two years?’
‘All right.’
‘Seriously,’ he said, ‘for all our sakes, but particularly yours and working with Phaedria, I think I should sell my share to a third party. A genuine one,’ he added with a grin. ‘If I let you have it now, it will amount to treachery. And we have to live with Phaedria. And I think in the long run you’ll have a more interesting, challenging, satisfactory time with someone else.’
She looked at him. ‘Do you really think so?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘I hate the idea. I really do. You wouldn’t consider staying on, working with us?’
‘Oh, no,’ he said, ‘not now. Probably I never would. It was quite a pretty idea, playing shops, drawing nice pictures, but it’s not me, not really. Not what I want from life.’
‘What do you want from life?’
‘You,’ he said, pulling her to him. ‘You. And this place. Nothing else. Nothing else at all.’
Roz looked at him, and felt a huge, sweet wave of love engulf her, and at the same time a sense of such happiness, such peace, she could hardly bear it. ‘Oh God,’ she said, ‘I love you so much.’
At that moment, Father Kennedy arrived.
Roz sat facing Letitia on the sofa at First Street, her eyes stormy, her face set.
‘I suppose,’ she said, ‘you’re going to tell me I’m not to marry Miles. Well, it’s nothing to do with you, and I shall marry who I like.’
Letitia took a deep breath. ‘Roz, my darling, you cannot, simply cannot marry Miles.’
‘Why not?’ said Roz, standing up, almost shouting. ‘Why the hell not?’
‘Because he’s your brother.’
‘Oh, God,’ said Roz, and sat down again abruptly. ‘Oh, God.’
She looked at Letitia, desperate, appealing; she was very white, very still. Then she laughed, a harsh, nervous laugh.
‘But he’s not. He can’t be. You said so yourself. You’re wrong. You have to be. How could he be? With those dates and everything.’
‘He is. Obviously we were wrong about the dates. Phaedria phoned Father Kennedy and talked to him before – before we talked to you. He remembered, he knew Lee and Miles from when he was tiny, baptized him, visited Lee in hospital when he was born. He was over three weeks late. It was quite a joke in the hospital. Their first ten-month pregnancy. Your father was obviously in California, just before – well, before he became involved with Camilla. He is Miles’ father.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Roz, my darling, I am more sorry than I can ever say, but you have to believe me. It’s true.’
‘Who told you? How did you find out?’
‘Your father had been – seeing someone. A psychiatrist. For many years. She knew.’
‘No.’ It was a piteous cry, almost a wail. ‘Please, please no.’ She put out her hands as if warding off some physical blow; her eyes were closed. ‘Please, Letitia, please please tell me it’s not true. That it might not be true. You were so sure before. I don’t see why you can’t be again. Please help me, Letitia, please.’
‘Darling, I can’t.’
‘Who told you? How did you find out?’
‘Phaedria. Phaedria told me.’
‘Phaedria! Oh, well it’s not true!’ There was a frantic look in her eyes as she scrabbled for rescue. ‘Phaedria would have made it up. She was so jealous of me, she hated me so much, she probably wants Miles for herself, oh, Letitia, how could you be such a fool as to believe her?’ She was smiling now, triumphant. ‘It’s all just a fantasy of Phaedria’s. It isn’t true at all. Oh, thank God, thank God, how could you have ever believed her, Letitia? How?’
‘Roz, I’m sorry. But you’re wrong. Phaedria did not make it up. I have seen this psychiatrist, this Doctor Friedman, myself. It is undoubtedly true. Phaedria is desperate for you, quite desperate. And of course she doesn’t want Miles.’
‘No,’ said Roz, ‘no, of course she doesn’t. I forgot for a moment, she has my other lover, doesn’t she? She’s stolen him from me as she’s stolen everything else, my father, the company, and now she’s trying to stop me having Miles. Well, she won’t. I won’t let her. She won’t.’
She was hysterical suddenly, screaming, biting her fists, beating at the air with them. Letitia watched her in silence. After a while she crossed the room and sat by her, not even trying to calm her.
‘Roz,’ she said, as the storm abated slightly and she could be heard, ‘you have to believe me. This has nothing to do with Phaedria. God knows I wish it were otherwise. But it isn’t.’
Roz looked at her quite suddenly and then fell against her grandmother, her head in her lap, weeping endlessly
‘Letitia, I can’t bear it, I just can’t bear it. For the first time, for the very first time in my whole life, I was happy. I never knew what it felt like before. It was like coming out into the sunshine from a cold, chill, dark place. I felt safe, peaceful. I can’t go back in there, I can’t. Don’t make me, Letitia, don’t make me, please.’
Letitia sat stroking her hair, looking sadly over her head and thinking she would have given all she owned to have saved Roz this pain.
Phaedria told Miles. He took it badly. He was shocked.
‘I don’t know,’ he said, ‘that I can handle this. It’s a lot of pain.’
‘Yes,’ said Phaedria, ‘yes, I know.’
‘I loved my dad,’ he said. ‘He was so good to me. We were all so happy, I thought. Now that’s gone.’
‘No, it hasn’t.’
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘you’re wrong. It has gone. It’s been destroyed for me. As it was for them. Think what he must have gone through. When he found out. Oh, God. That’s why he killed himself, I suppose.’
‘Yes, I suppose.’
‘And my mother. How could she do that to him? And why did she have to tell him? Why couldn’t she keep it to herself?’
‘She didn’t tell him,’ said Phaedria quickly. ‘A doctor told him he could never have had children. He worked it out then. She never, ever told him. She never would have done, I’m sure.’
Miles looked up at her. His eyes were full of tears.
‘You don’t think, do you,’ he said, ‘there could still be some mistake? That I could be my dad’s kid? I mean, Letitia was quite sure . . .’
He sounded like a child; Phaedria went over to him and put her arms around him. ‘Not sure enough, I’m afraid. No. I don’t think there’s a mistake,’ she said, ‘not from everything we know.’
‘I loved my mother so much,’ said Miles, his arms going round Phaedria, his face buried in her hair. ‘So much. She was so pretty, such fun, she never did anything to make anyone sad, she was never cross, she was never down. I thought she was the most perfect person in the world. And now I know she wasn’t. And I feel I’ve lost her all over again.’
‘No,’ said Phaedria. ‘No, you haven’t. She was a lovely, lovely, brave, good person, Miles. From everything we’ve learnt we know she was. She made a mistake. Doesn’t everyone? Sometimes? Haven’t you? She spent the rest of her life trying to put it right. You know she did. It must have been so terribly terribly difficult and she never gave in. Even when she was dying she never gave in.’
‘No,’ he said, ‘that’s true.’ A tear rolled down his face. ‘She said, even then, always, how good he was, my dad, how much she’d loved him, reminded me how happy we’d been. She left me that, that happiness.’
‘She was good,’ said Phaedria, ‘very good, I know she was. Very special.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Well,’ she said, looking at him, smiling into his eyes, kissing his tear-streaked face, ‘she made you what you are.’
‘I have to give Roz my share,’ said Miles to Phaedria and Letitia later that night. Roz was alseep, exhausted, heavily sedated. ‘She must have it.’
‘Of course,’ said Phaedria. ‘Of course she must. What will you do?’
‘Oh,’ he said, ‘go home. To California. I don’t even want the money. Just the house.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Letitia briskly, almost restored to herself by this piece of sacrilege. ‘Of course you must have the money. You can’t live on air.’
‘I can,’ he said, ‘almost.’
‘Well, I’ll tell you what we’ll do,’ said Letitia. ‘We’ll put the money in a trust fund for you. Nobody will touch it. Then if you ever need it, it will be there.’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘if you really think so.’
‘I do.’
‘I think,’ said Phaedria carefully, ‘it would be best if Eliza and Peveril never knew about all this. Don’t you, Letitia?’
‘Yes, darling, I do. Much better. How wise you are.’
‘Oh God,’ said Phaedria. ‘I do hope Roz will be all right.’
‘She’ll be all right.’ It was Miles. ‘She’ll be fine.’
They looked at him, both of them startled.
‘Do you think so?’ asked Phaedria.
‘Yes, I do. I know so. She will be very unhappy for a while, and then she’ll come back fighting. She’ll have the company, she can do what she likes with it. That will be her salvation. It’s all she needs for now, at any rate. Don’t fuss her too much. Just leave her alone.’
‘I think I’ll sell her my share too,’ said Phaedria, ‘now it’s all resolved. I don’t want it any more.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t give it all to her,’ said Miles. ‘Not if you care about her. A few fights, a little angst will keep her going. Stir her up now and again, Phaedria. It will do her good.’
She looked at him and laughed. ‘All right. But my heart won’t be in it.’
‘Yes it will. Think of Julia.’
‘Oh, she can have my share when she grows up.’
‘Yes, and fight Miranda for it.’
‘God. What a thought.’
Miles stood up. ‘I’m going now.’
They looked at him startled. ‘Where?’
‘To the airport. I’m all packed, I have a flight. I want to go. I don’t want to see Roz again. I couldn’t bear it.’
‘Don’t you want to tell her goodbye?’ asked Phaedria.
‘No. Because I couldn’t. And there’s no need. I’ll always be there. And she knows that.’
Letitia sighed. ‘You really love her, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I really do.’