Their suite over looked the Mediterranean, which stretched like a sea of sapphires, glittering and twinkling to the distant horizon. Smart yachts were moored in the harbour, protected from storms by two long jetties that stretched across the water like embracing arms, leaving only a gap, with a lighthouse on the right hand jetty, through which boats could slip to safety.
Rosie stood in the open French window of their petit salon looking out to sea, as she drank her coffee. Wearing a peach satin dressing gown over her matching nightdress, and with white feathered mules on her feet, she resembled a beautiful Hollywood film heroine, waiting for her hero to arrive.
In truth, she was a discontented thirty-year-old housewife, wishing she didn’t feel so dejected. She’d been miserable, it seemed, for such ages that she’d almost forgotten what it was like to feel happy.
She’d thought marriage to Salton would bring her joy and the sort of life she’d always wanted… well, almost wanted. Marriage to a man with a title, and a country estate would have been preferable, but Salton was kind, and comfortably off, and yet her dissatisfaction was profound. And if she was bitterly disappointed she wasn’t pregnant, she also knew that her life was somehow desperately dull.
There was a dreadful sameness about every blessed day, and a laborious repetition in their thrice weekly love-making. If Salton asked her one more time if she was ‘all right’ after he’d rolled off her and returned to his side of the bed, she’d scream.
His kindly blandness, his unruffled personality, even his generosity in letting her have whatever she wanted, was getting on her nerves.
She knew she ought to be jolly grateful; not every man would land himself with a war widow who had two children and no money. She also counted her blessings; he didn’t chase women, drink or gamble. He was a good steady man, honest and dutiful. But he bored her to death.
‘What would you like to do today?’ she heard him ask, as he joined her in the window. ‘Looks like good weather.’ He glanced up at a peerless clear sky.
‘It’s always good weather in the South of France,’ she retorted peevishly. ‘I suppose we could go for a drive, or something.’
‘Good idea, honey. Maybe we could find a nice restaurant for lunch?’
She nodded. ‘I’m going to have a bath now. And I need to buy some shoes for the beach.’
‘Well, we could go shopping first and then drive along the coast to Nice and swim there?’ He slid his arm around her waist affectionately and gave her a little hug. ‘I thought we might go to the casino tonight? Have a little flutter?’
Rosie gave him a little smile and slid out of his embrace. ‘How lovely!’ Her voice was clipped.
Neither of them had mentioned Juliet’s name since they’d arrived, as if a change of scenery had removed them from the seat of the action. As if Juliet belonged to another life and another world. Yet Salton realized Rosie was unhappy, though she wouldn’t admit it, and he was worried about her. But what more did she want than the life they’d chosen to share together? He’d bent over backwards to please her because he loved her deeply, but sometimes it seemed she didn’t really want to be happy. His mother had said something very wise when she’d written to him after he’d sought her advice.
…It could be that Rosie is using Juliet as a whipping boy in order to have someone to blame for her own inner discontent… try to be patient, honey… if you can’t make her happy, then no one can.
Salton still hoped he could turn things around and that was why he’d brought her to this sophisticated French paradise, hoping it might prove to be a second honeymoon for them. Maybe they should get acquainted with some of the other hotel guests and set up a few interesting excursions or even some dinner parties. Rosie had a lot of her mother in her, he reflected and he was quite prepared to sacrifice the peaceful holiday he’d planned if a spot of socializing would cheer her up.
Maybe he could even make her pregnant.
That evening they sat at one of the little tables in the glamorous foyer of the Hôtel de Paris enjoying cocktails before dinner. In one corner of the marble and mirrored area, which had leafy aspidistras growing in large pots at intervals along the walls, a string quartet played The Blue Danube, as well-dressed couples took their seats, greeting their friends and waving to new arrivals as they entered through the glass doors. The atmosphere was festive and merry, as if everyone had something to celebrate. Salton decided this was a good way to start their evenings.
At that moment a well-dressed elderly lady hovered by their table. She was looking at Rosie in a puzzled fashion.
Salton smiled up at her, eyebrows raised, as she obviously wanted to speak to them. ‘Good evening?’ he said.
She stepped forward. ‘Good evening, monsieur.’
She had a French accent and he guessed she was in her seventies, but well preserved, her face immaculately made up, her white hair beautifully coiffured under a little black hat. She was wearing a stylish black dress embroidered with jet beads and he noticed, under her sable wrap, ropes of pearls and a large diamond brooch.
Smiling gaily, she raised a gloved hand and spoke to Rosie. ‘Excusez-moi, madame, but I believe I recognize you? Your papa is Henry Granville, is he not?’
Rosie preened prettily. ‘Yes. I’m his eldest daughter, Rosie.’
The old lady clasped her hands together in a gesture of joy. ‘Your papa was a great friend of my late husband, Walter Fulsham. When we lived in England we banked at Hammerton’s.’
‘Really?’ Rosie exclaimed.
‘I remember seeing so many pictures of you when you made your debut. You were quite the debutante of the year, weren’t you? Such an English beauty!’
Rosie flushed with pleasure. ‘Thank you. Won’t you join us for a drink?’
‘Well… I’m supposed to be meeting my nephew. He’s late, as usual.’
She stood, small boned and dainty, like an elegant bird, her long neck turning this way and that as she looked around the ever more crowded foyer. A moment later a waiter came hurrying over to her.
‘M’lady, I have a message for you from Baron Guerin. He has been delayed but he will be with you very soon.’
‘Merci.’ She shrugged.
Salton, standing, brought forward a chair. ‘Do please join us?’
She threw up her hands in mock surrender, and laughed. ‘You’re very kind. Philibert has only one fault; he’s late for everything.’
‘Are you staying in the hotel, too?’ Rosie asked.
‘I live here,’ the old lady replied quietly.
‘You live… in the hotel?’
‘Mais oui! I moved back here when my husband died two years ago.’
In the last few minutes Rosie had fallen in love with the glamour of Monte Carlo, the sheer luxury of the famous Hotel de Paris with its romantic music in the background and the bowing and scraping of the waiters. Everyone looked so chic and elegant in their perfect clothes. It was as if being stylish came naturally to the French.
For a moment Rosie remembered what London had been like before the war. How exciting and glittering everything had been then. And how drab and grey and sort of defeated everyone at home seemed now. The people were tired, everything was shabby, rationing was worse than it had ever been, and morale seemed at its lowest. For the first time in her life Rosie wished she still lived at Hartley, where the countryside renewed itself every spring, bringing a feeling of hope to everyone.
Salton had ordered more drinks, Lady Fulsham opting to have a Pernod, while Rosie asked for a gin and lime.
Their new acquaintance was speaking earnestly. ‘Once a Labour government got in, I knew I had to leave England and come here. I have no children so I felt free to return to my homeland. My nephew lives in Digne-Les-Bains, although he seems to spend most of his time here in Monte Carlo.’ She caught Rosie’s eye and smiled mischievously. ‘He’s young like you, and likes the bright lights.’
Rosie sipped her second drink, feeling better by the moment. ‘We thought we’d go over to the casino after dinner,’ she said.
A faint shadow flashed across Lady Fulsham’s eyes but was gone as quickly as it came. ‘The casino is tres amusant!’ she said lightly.
‘So, you have a suite here?’ Salton asked conversationally.
‘Two suites, actually. One for myself, and Philibert if he wants to stay for the night, and the one next door for my own servants. It is very convenient. If I want to entertain, I use the restaurant. Otherwise we use room service and my maids serve it to me in my petit salon. The food here is excellent.’
Rosie leaned back in her chair and knew that this was the life she wanted. When the children were older and she was free from responsibility. What could be more marvellous than living in this perfect climate, in the most glamorous hotel in the world, with your own private staff to look after you, and a restaurant at your disposal for when you wanted to entertain?
She tried to catch Salton’s eye, sure he’d be thinking the same thing, longing to say to him, ‘Let’s do that, too, one day,’ but he was deep in conversation with Lady Fulsham who was nodding in agreement with what ever he was saying.
Then she saw him, walking quickly across the foyer towards them. Tall, slim, tanned with blond hair, this young man resembled a Greek god… with sexy eyes and a charming smile.
‘Ah! At last!’ Lady Fulsham held up her hands when she saw him. ‘How are you, mon chérie?’
Philibert bent down to kiss her on both cheeks, ‘Pardon. Je suis…’ Then he realized she wasn’t alone.
She introduced Rosie and Salton. He shook their hands warmly and made direct eye contact, especially with Rosie, his gaze lingering on her face a fraction too long for good manners.
‘Did you say you were dining here, tonight?’ Lady Fulsham asked Salton. ‘Then you must be my guests. It is so nice to have English people to talk to for a change.’ She turned to Philibert. ‘They’re also going to the casino tonight. Maybe they will bring us luck?’ Her laugh was gay and girlish.
‘I do hope so,’ he replied, his wide smile showing perfect teeth and his eyes still fixed on Rosie.
When they arrived at the casino it was obvious to Salton that Lady Fulsham was a regular and so was her nephew. The staff hovered around them as if they were royalty, escorting Lady Fulsham to a roulette table where the minimum stake was so high, Salton drew in his breath in horror. He’d planned that he and Rosie would gamble very modestly, just for the fun of it, but Rosie was looking entranced at the green baize table and its markings. The rattle of the little white ball as it spun around on the roulette wheel seemed to hypnotize her, and when Lady Fulsham tossed a handful of French notes to the croupier, who then pushed a high pile of chips in her direction, Rosie sat down on the empty chair beside her, enthralled.
‘Rosie,’ he said urgently, ‘we can’t play at this table. Look at the stakes!’
She frowned, annoyed that he seemed to be showing her up, behaving like an unsophisticated American. ‘Why not?’ she asked imperiously.
‘Because we were only allowed to take seventy-five pounds, each, out of England. You know it’s a new government regulation,’ he reminded her.
‘Can’t you give a cheque or something?’
Salton chuckled. ‘Don’t be silly, darling. It’s against the law.’
Lady Fulsham looked at Rosie sympathetically. ‘Your husband’s right. All the British tourists going abroad are limited to that amount.’
Rosie stood up again. ‘Oh, how boring,’ she said petulantly. ‘There’s not much point in our being here, is there?’ She looked at Salton as if it was all his fault.
Philibert spoke. ‘I’m not in a great mood for gambling myself, tonight,’ he said smiling at Rosie and Salton, ‘Why don’t I take you to Le Chat Noir? It’s an amusing leetle club where we can have a drink?’
‘That would be fun,’ Rosie replied.
Salton hesitated. ‘Why don’t you go ahead, darling?’ he told Rosie. ‘I think I’ll stay and keep Lady Fulsham company for a bit.’ His tone indicated it would not be polite to leave her as she’d given them dinner.
Rosie pretended to be reluctant. ‘Of course… Perhaps I’d better…’
‘Salton, why don’t you join us in a while?’ Philibert suggested.
‘I might do that.’
Rosie tucked her gold beaded evening bag under her arm. ‘See you later then.’
When she and Philibert had left, Salton turned to stand behind Lady Fulsham’s chair and watched with a sickening feeling of horror as she continued to place bets of the equivalent of fifty pounds on each spin of the wheel. Thanking God that his reason for not gambling was genuine, he could only conclude that she must be a millionairess. And as she lost again and again until she was several hundred pounds down, he suddenly remembered a conversation he’d had with Louise the previous week, which highlighted the vast differences between the rich and the poor.
Louise had recently taken a part-time job in the Red Cross Hospital Library in Grosvenor Crescent. ‘It’s really good, I work three mornings a week and they pay me two pounds, ten shillings,’ she’d said proudly, ‘which is a great help. I can feed us on ten shillings a week, quite comfortably, and that leaves two pounds for the gas, electricity, and things for Daisy, while Shane pays the mortgage and everything else on his salary.’
‘All done?’ Salton said after a while, watching Lady Fulsham fiddling with her evening bag as she watched the wheel turning and the little white ball plopping into one of the grooves. Her face was very white now and she looked much older than he’d first thought. It was possible she was even in her eighties.
She looked up at him, her eye sockets were hollow and her expression blank.
‘Oui,’ she said in a thready voice. ‘I think it is time to retire for the night.’ She struggled to her feet, as if she was stiff and her joints hurt. ‘It is quite late, n’est ce pas?’
‘It’s half eleven,’ he said easily. ‘Shall I escort you back to the hotel? Or do you want to join your nephew and Rosie?’
‘Oh, I think it’s time for my bed. Perhaps if you are so kind…’
‘It would be my pleasure.’ Suddenly Salton felt very sorry for this frail old lady who earlier in the evening had put on such a show of vibrant vivacity and strength, as if she’d been no older than his mother.
He took her arm and together they walked the short distance back to the Hôtel de Paris. At the bottom of the wide steep entrance steps she paused and pointed up the street.
‘If you take the second turning on the left you will find Le Chat Noir on your right, a little way along.’
‘Thank you, but first, allow me to take you as far as your suite,’ he said swiftly, ‘and I’ll check that Rosie hasn’t already returned.’
But Rosie wasn’t in their suite. Having left Lady Fulsham in the care of her personal maids, he walked briskly and had no trouble in finding the black and white striped awning which led to the basement of a building from which loud music emanated. It was so dark and smoky inside that at first Salton couldn’t spot Rosie amongst the crowd who sat drinking at little tables or shuffling around, clinging to each other, on a tiny floor.
At last, feeling out of place and rather too old for this sort of thing, he found them seated on a banquette in a corner, deep in conversation and drinking champagne.
‘Darling!’ Rosie greeted him effusively. ‘We’re having such a marvellous time! This is the most amazing place; isn’t the music divine?’
‘It’s certainly loud.’ Salton chuckled. He squeezed himself on the end of the banquette. He realized she was a bit tipsy; Rosie was never this high-spirited when sober. He leaned towards Philibert. ‘Can one get a bourbon here? On the rocks?’ he shouted above the din.
‘He means American whisky,’ Rosie giggled. ‘We’re drinking champagne,’ she added unnecessarily.
‘So I can see.’ Salton’s voice was dry. Later, as he sipped his drink and watched Rosie have a last dance with Philibert before they went back to the hotel, he realized that to keep Rosie happy was to keep her amused. Just like her mother. He made up his mind that when they returned to London he’d encourage her to socialize again, and suggest they do some entertaining. It wasn’t what he enjoyed doing and he realized he and Henry had more in common than he’d thought, but like Henry, he loved his wife and he considered it his duty to keep her content.
Juliet somehow got through each day, though despair stalked her every moment, and the darkness in her soul was bleak and without a glimmer of hope. She was certain that Daniel’s damned pride was keeping them apart, but so, she had to admit, was her own anger at him for twisting her words. She’d never for a moment thought he was a gold-digger, nor had she ever accused him of being after her money.
But one mischievous card from an old lover had opened Pandora’s box and her past had come whirling out, destroying everything. How could Peter have done something so vengeful? Angry he might have been, most men hated being rejected, but to have sent that note, knowing she’d just had a baby, had shocked her deeply. Peter had been an affable man, kind and generous and with a great sense of humour… until that last encounter.
And now Daniel had walked out, denying her the chance to explain. If only he’d been prepared to listen, if only she hadn’t snapped back at him, more in fear than anger at that moment, if only…
Juliet paced her bedroom in the solitude of the night, holding Tristan to her breast, as if they could comfort each other by clinging fast together.
She looked down into his sleeping face, recognizing his likeness to Daniel and felt more love for the little scrap of humanity than she could ever have imagined.
She should be sharing these precious moments with Daniel, but she didn’t even know where he was. Henry had phoned his office on her behalf, asking to speak to him, but the very nature of his work at MI5 had caused his department chief to be evasive. ‘Unavailable at present’ and ‘not at his desk’ were the only answers Henry got, although he insisted he wanted to speak to Mr Lawrence on an urgent family matter.
Juliet had even asked her father to contact Daniel’s ex-wife and Esther, pretending to be Daniel’s bank manager, but both women had told him politely they had no idea where he was.
‘His sister may have suspected I was ringing on your behalf,’ Henry told Juliet, ‘but Ruth Lawrence sounded very surprised, and explained they were no longer married and she hadn’t heard from him for ages.’
‘What can I do, Dads?’ Juliet asked, as she lunched with him in the city the next day.
Henry looked at his favourite daughter with concern. She looked thin and her face was drained of colour.
Only her aquamarine eyes still flashed with passion and a determination to carry on whatever happened.
‘Do I just sit and wait?’ she demanded. ‘I cannot believe he’s being so pig-headed!’
‘You’ve asked all your friends if they’ve seen him lately, I presume?’ Henry ventured.
‘No, Dads. I don’t want anyone to know what’s happened. I’m using Tristan as an excuse for staying at home for the time being. And I don’t want the whole of London hearing about that wretched bouquet from Peter Osborne! Since I married Daniel I’ve put my past completely behind me, or so I thought. I don’t even know what possessed Peter to do such a thing. I haven’t even seen him for four years, for God’s sake! The strange thing is I thought he wasn’t the sort of man to harbour a grudge.’
Henry gave a deep sigh, and looked disconsolately at his plate of spam and salad as if its unappealing coldness was symbolic of life today. ‘Do you have his address?’
‘I don’t think I ever knew where he lived. I mean, we were ships that passed in the night, that’s all. He’d phone me and say he’d be off duty that night and did I want to go dining and dancing…’ Her voice trailed away with shame.
‘I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I really thought you’d be happy with Daniel.’
‘So did I, Dads,’ she said sadly. ‘People think money can make you happy, that it’s important and that as long as you’re rich, you’ve got everything that matters. It’s not true, is it? Louise and Shane are utterly happy on twopence a week, and Amanda doesn’t care a fig about cash, does she? I bet the dress allowance you give her is sitting in the bank untouched, and she’s earning huge interest on it!’ She gave a wry smile.
‘And there are you, worth several million pounds…’ He spoke with irony.
‘That’s life, isn’t it? Oh Christ, Dads, I miss him so much.’
‘I know you do, darling.’
‘And he’s missing these first precious weeks with Tristan.’ She raised her head and looked into her father’s eyes. The heartbreak in her face wrenched him with pity. ‘What can I do?’ she asked helplessly.
‘He’ll come back, sweetheart. I know he will, but promise me something.’
Juliet looked surprised. ‘What?’
‘When he does… don’t get on your high horse. Don’t let pride get in your way. Don’t fly off the handle and blame him for everything. It seems to me,’ Henry said with more force than usual, ‘that you’re going to have to handle your marriage with more diplomacy than passion. He’s obviously a proud man, and frankly, most men don’t like their wives to be richer than they are. It can emasculate a man, Juliet.’ He paused for effect. ‘When he comes back, I think you should seriously consider selling your house. Why not buy a much smaller and less grand place?’
Shocked, Juliet stared at him. How could she bear to get rid of her pride and joy? She’d designed every inch of 99, Park Lane, and she’d chosen every piece of furniture to create a perfect art deco setting for her life as a beautiful young duchess. Only she wasn’t a duchess any more. She was married to a civil servant, who was paid an ordinary salary by the government, added to which he had three children to support.
‘But… but it’s so useful to have so many spare rooms,’ she protested in panic, as if she was standing alone on a beach, and the tide was sweeping everything she cared for out to sea. The house had always been like a refuge where she knew she’d be safe, no matter what. It had sheltered her in heart-break and horror, in sickness and in health, in happiness and in the throes of passion.
Henry watched her closely, seeing her emotions rise to the surface.
She spoke defensively. ‘The family can stay with me at any time. In the past it’s been a haven for Rosie, when Charles was killed, and Louise after she’d had Rupert. Charlotte can come and stay if you give up the flat in Princes Court… I need to keep the house, Dads.’
Henry shrugged and smiled at her affectionately. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you, darling, it was just a suggestion.’
She bit her bottom lip. ‘Yes, but Daniel said the same thing some time ago,’ she admitted miserably.
‘I see.’
‘I love that house,’ she continued vigorously.
‘More than you love him?’
‘What…? No, of course not.’ She hesitated. ‘But a house can never let you down, can it? It’s always there for you, no matter what.’
‘Then let’s hope he doesn’t make you choose which you want most,’ Henry told her seriously.
The telephone rang while Rosie and Salton were still enjoying their coffee and croissants with apricot confiture, in their suite. She reached eagerly for the instrument, as if she was expecting a call. Her cheeks were prettily flushed.
‘Oh! Hello, Philibert!’ she exclaimed, pretending to sound surprised. ‘How are you today? Yes, we’re fine. It was such fun last night. I adored that night club. Yes?’ She paused to listen and her expression became more ecstatic by the moment. ‘Oh, we’d love to,’ she gushed. ‘Right. We’ll meet you in the foyer at eleven o’clock. Au revoir!’
She returned the phone to its cradle and turned triumphantly to Salton.
‘That was Philibert,’ she told him unnecessarily. ‘He’s invited us on to a yacht for lunch. We’re to meet him downstairs. Isn’t that exciting? He said we might potter down the coast and have a swim.’
She was already on her feet, hurrying into the bedroom where she started pulling swim suits and wraps out of the cupboard, and a sun hat and a smart beach bag. ‘I think I’ll wear my pale blue linen slacks and a white top,’ she said with relish, sounding like a little girl going to her first party.
‘How kind of him to invite us,’ Salton said wonderingly. ‘Is Lady Fulsham coming, too?’
‘I shouldn’t think so,’ Rosie replied vaguely. ‘She’s a bit old for that sort of thing, isn’t she?’
He remembered the frail looking woman with the pale drawn face and haunted eyes whom he’d escorted back to her suite from the casino. ‘Maybe.’
‘Come on, Salton. Hurry up. We don’t want to keep Philibert waiting.’
‘We’ve plenty of time, honey.’ Salton lit a cigarette and went to stand at the French window, gazing out over the magnificent view. ‘Do you remember anything about Lady Fulsham’s late husband?’
Rosie brushed her blonde curls, newly permed, into a halo around her head. ‘Philibert told me that he was his aunt’s heir, and that his uncle had made a fortune in steel. Apparently they had a huge estate in Yorkshire, which she sold when he died. One day Philibert is going to be exceedingly rich.’ Salton looked serious. ‘Providing she doesn’t lose money at the rate she did last night.’
Rosie gave an impatient little snort. ‘You’re too cautious, Salton. One’s got to live a little, you know. Don’t you think we should take them out to dinner tonight? Maybe the concierge could recommend a good restaurant?’
‘Let’s think about that later, shall we?’ he suggested affably.
Philibert, looking more like a Greek god than ever in white trousers and a navy blue blazer, with his blond hair as smooth as silk, was waiting in the foyer when they stepped out of the lift. He bowed and taking Rosie’s hand, brushed it with his lips.
‘Good morning, Rosie. Good morning, Salton.’ He shook Salton’s hand firmly. ‘I have the car, and we’ll drive to where the Marie Clare is docked. Have you everything you need?’ With a charming smile that encompassed both of them, he asked, ‘I have most things on board, including dark glasses and sun oil; you have your swimsuits?’
Deeply impressed, Rosie nodded.
‘Excellent, then let us go, mes amis!’
‘Can you meet me for lunch today?’ Henry asked when he phoned Juliet a few days later.
‘Yes, Dads, but why? We’ve only just had one of our luncheons.’ she queried. There was something urgent about his tone, and she dreaded hearing bad news about Daniel.
‘I have something to tell you,’ Henry said shortly. ‘I can’t talk now, I’m about to have a meeting, but meet me at the Savoy Grill at twelve thirty, will you?’
‘Yes, Dads,’ she said again. Her mind spun with the dreadful thought that he’d heard Daniel had… what? Gone to live abroad? Met someone else? Been to see a lawyer about divorce? ‘Oh, God,’ she muttered to herself, feeling panicked. She looked at her wrist watch. It was eleven o’clock. Somehow she had to get through the next hour and a half before she found out what her father had to say.
Feeling sick, she occupied herself by writing more thank-you letters to all the people who had sent flowers and gifts for Tristan. Then she changed into a royal blue suit from Dior, and a small matching hat.
‘Call me a taxi, will you, Dudley?’ she asked the butler. Her hands were shaking too much for her to dare drive the Rolls.
‘Certainly, madam.’ He noted her white face and anxious eyes but said nothing.
The traffic in Trafalgar Square was heavy, and she sat feeling desperate with frustration, as the cab inched its way past the National Gallery. It was twenty minutes past twelve; would they get along the Strand to the Savoy in five minutes? She doubted it. She bit her lower lip, forcing her mind to reject her worst fears. What her father had to say must be serious, or he’d never have summoned her at such short notice.
At last, they drew up outside the hotel, and she hurriedly thrust two shillings into the driver’s hand. ‘Keep the change,’ she murmured distractedly.
‘Thank you, madam!’ he said astonished.
Henry was waiting for her at a corner table.
‘Dads. I’m sorry I’m late.’ As soon as she was seated, she leaned across the table towards him. ‘What’s happened?’ she asked urgently. ‘Why did you want to see me?’
Henry looked concerned at her agitation. ‘Darling, it’s all right. It’s not bad news. Sorry, I should have said…’ He looked exhausted and there were bags under his eyes. ‘We’re frantic at the bank and I was so rushed when I spoke to you.’
‘So what is it?’ She felt as if a fist was squeezing her heart.
‘I phoned the Air Ministry. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me before.’
‘The Air Ministry?’ For a moment she felt confused. ‘Oh! Oh, my God!’ she exclaimed with dawning realization.
‘Yes.’ Henry nodded, and took a sip of his whisky and soda. ‘I asked if they knew the present whereabouts of Flight Lieutenant Peter Osborne. I thought it was time we asked him what the hell he was playing at, Juliet, so I told the Ministry he was an old friend, and I’d lost his address.’
‘And…?’ She leaned back, weak with relief that her father didn’t have bad news about Daniel to impart.
‘When was it you last saw him?’
Juliet looked surprised. ‘About four years ago. I’d just got engaged to Eddie.’
Henry nodded again. ‘That’s what I thought.’ He paused and looked straight into her eyes. ‘Those flowers and that note couldn’t have been from him, because the Ministry informed me he’d died two and a half years ago.’
Juliet started, with shock. ‘Died?’ she repeated incredulously.
‘He was invalided out of the Air Force because he’d contracted cancer.’
Her hands flew to her cheeks and she gazed at Henry, appalled. ‘How dreadful! Then that means…?’ Her mind was scrabbling to take in the news. ‘Then that means…?’ she repeated, her eyes widening. ‘Esther!’
‘I think you’re probably right,’ Henry said heavily. ‘Didn’t Daniel say that she’d worked at the Air Ministry during the war? I’m sure I remember him mentioning it.’ Henry rubbed a weary hand over his eyes.
‘Dads, are you all right?’ she asked suddenly.
He smiled immediately. ‘Just tired, darling. There’s a lot on. Anyway, I’m sure this will make a difference, won’t it?’ he asked hopefully. ‘Daniel can hardly mind about those wretched flowers now, as the man who’s supposed to have sent them is dead?’
Juliet looked thoughtful. If Esther had known Peter during the war, and perhaps they’d worked in the same office, he might have talked about who he was seeing and who he was going out with.
No wonder Esther seemed to know so much about her private life!
‘Dads, I can’t thank you enough,’ she told Henry gratefully. ‘I should have contacted the Air Ministry myself, but I was so devastated by Daniel’s reaction, I just felt like curling up and dying.’
‘That’s not like you, sweetheart.’
She smiled weakly. ‘I know. But I felt betrayed by Rosie, and Peter, who I couldn’t believe had written that note, and then by Daniel when he twisted my words and walked out.’
When they’d had lunch, Henry escorted her out of the Savoy, where there was a line of waiting taxis. The commissionaire raised his gloved hand, and a cab came swiftly towards them.
‘Thank you for everything, Dads,’ Juliet said, kissing him on both cheeks. ‘You’ve no idea how grateful I am.’
‘Let me know how everything works out, sweetheart.’
‘I will. And take care of yourself, Dads.’
Henry smiled, and spoke to the taxi driver. ‘Park Lane, please.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Juliet waited until the cab had turned round into the Strand and she’d given a final wave to Henry. ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ she told the driver. ‘I’d like to go to the Edgware Road, please.’
Dudley was in the hall, arranging flowers that he’d already arranged that morning, when Juliet let herself into the house late that afternoon.
His button eyes looked into hers pointedly and he pursed his mouth as if to say ‘Shh…’ Then he nodded his head towards the closed study door, before darting back to his quarters in the basement.
Juliet stood still, her heart pounding and the blood raging in her ears. Her legs weakened as if she was ill and she thought she was going to faint. Whatever was said and whatever was done in the next few minutes would determine the rest of her life.
She paused, trying to steady her breathing. Then gathering her strength she clenched her hands until her red nails dug into her palms, and strode forward. For a second she hesitated before the mahogany double door before gripping the handles. A moment later she flung open the doors and found Daniel sitting behind his desk. He looked up as she entered, stunning her with his looks as he’d done the first time they’d met. His strong-featured face and dark hair, his almost black eyes and seductive full-lipped mouth, melted all her inner feelings; defiance turned to supplication, resistance to reconciliation, and anger to an overpowering love for him.
‘Hello,’ she said in a small voice.
His mine-shaft deep voice washed over her like a tolling bell. ‘I came to see Tristan,’ he said coldly.
Hurt, she tried not to flinch. ‘He’s asleep in the nursery.’
‘I know.’
Juliet looked at him searchingly. Had he only come to see their baby? There were a thousand questions she wanted to ask, but she was too afraid of what his answers might be.
‘How are you?’ she said eventually, wishing he would come forward and take her in his arms. ‘Where have you been?’
He shuffled the papers in front of him. ‘Away.’
‘And now you’re… back?’
He gave her a black look, his mouth tight. ‘I don’t know.’ There was a finality to his tone, forbidding further questions.
‘I have something to tell you.’
‘And what would that be?’ he asked, disinterested.
‘I’ve had a long talk with Esther.’
He jumped to his feet, red in the face with fury. ‘I told you to keep away from my family…!’ he stormed. ‘Don’t you ever do as you’re bloody well told?’
‘It was Esther who sent me those red roses and wrote that note,’ Juliet said as calmly as she could.
‘What are you talking about?’ he demanded savagely.
‘I’ve been to see her again. She’s just admitted it. Peter Osborne died of cancer two and a half years ago. Esther worked alongside him during the war. She was in love with him, Daniel, and he wasn’t interested. Apparently he talked a lot about me.’ Juliet was careful not to repeat how Peter had apparently told Esther that he was ‘crazy about Juliet’ and eventually ‘wanted to marry her’.
She looked Daniel straight in the eye. ‘That’s why she hates me. Not because you married me, not because she thought you were after my money. She hates me because she saw me as a rival for Peter’s affections. And she admitted that she hoped she could get her revenge and make my life a living hell by writing that card.’
Daniel sat down again but remained silent.
‘And she succeeded, didn’t she?’ Juliet demanded. ‘Knowing you as well as she does, she knew you’d go off the deep end.’
‘This changes nothing,’ he said at length.
‘How can you say that?’
‘It doesn’t alter the fact that people think I married you for your money.’
Something hardened in Juliet’s heart at that moment. It was a feeling of her own self-worth. If Daniel really loved her, why did he so despise all that was hers? Why wasn’t he happy that at least Cameron had done all he could to recompense her for having tricked her into a sham of a marriage?
‘Really?’ she lashed back, continuing sarcastically. ‘So I’m supposed to suffer alone in my lavish house? With my Rolls Royce at the door? A fortune in my bank account? And a box full of jewels? Is that what’s getting you? It’s what you accused me of last time, as if being rich was a sin. I can’t help having all this money Cameron made over to me. Why are you punishing me because of it?’
Daniel continued to look at his papers, but he remained silent.
‘Don’t you think you’re being absurd?’ she challenged angrily.
He flushed deeply, and his eyes flashed dangerously. ‘For once this isn’t all about you, Juliet!’ he retorted. ‘It might not have occurred to you, but I happen to miss my children very much. Do you ever consider my feelings as you sail blithely through your elitist life?’
Juliet looked at him as if he’d slapped her across the face. ‘Of course I do, I think of nothing else,’ she said shocked. ‘How can you say that to me? How can you call me elitist? You know I want them to come and stay here. I want to get to know them. It’s hardly my fault that their mother won’t let them come here and see you.’
His voice was harsh. ‘Esther has poisoned her mind. Ruth says she won’t allow them to stay in the house of a whore.’
Juliet looked stricken, and her hand flew to her mouth. ‘And you let her say that about me?’ she whispered, horrified. She sank on to a chair by the side of his desk, feeling sick. Her stupid, reckless past, when her loss of Daniel had driven her to a life of decadence, was catching up on her now. And he seemed ready to believe every word of Esther’s venom.
His voice was icy and laden with innuendo. ‘Esther seems to know rather more about you than I do.’
‘She knows nothing about me, the real me,’ she whispered defensively. ‘She only knows what Peter Osborne told her and he didn’t really know me. Whatever she may say, you’re the only man I’ve ever really loved. From the beginning, from the moment we met, it was only you I wanted…’ Her voice broke, and she covered her face with her hands. ‘And I believe, by the time we’d finished talking this afternoon, that Esther believes that, too. She’s bitter, Daniel, because Peter was the love of her life. And she can’t forgive me for, as she sees it, taking him away from her.’
‘I’m not a fool, Juliet,’ he said harshly. ‘Esther isn’t the only person who’s mentioned your past.’
‘I did go a bit wild for a while,’ she admitted. ‘I’d lost our baby, and you seemed to hate me… and with all the bombs and everything I didn’t care what happened to me, but I never, ever, for one single moment, stopped loving you. You’re my life, Daniel…’ She was crying so hard now she could hardly breathe, all the fight knocked out of her, washed away by a torrent of grief and regret.
She heard the sound of a chair being pushed back and the next moment Daniel was by her side, his strong arms pulling her close, his hand pressing her head against his cheek. ‘I know, I know, my darling,’ he said fervently. ‘Forgive me… I love you more than life… and I never want to lose you.’
Juliet clung to him until her sobs subsided, then she looked at him, tilting her head back so she could see into his eyes. ‘I can’t bear it when we quarrel.’
‘Neither can I,’ he said, sounding exhausted. He lead her over to a deep buttoned brown leather sofa which stood facing the fireplace, where logs from Hartley glowed warmly. ‘I shouldn’t care what people say, but I can’t help thinking that if the war hadn’t changed everything, your family would never have allowed you to marry me.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Think about it, sweetheart! A Jewish divorcee, with not much money and three children. I’m hardly what your mother would consider “suitable”. In peacetime I wouldn’t have stood a chance in hell with your parents.’
Juliet wriggled from the crook of his arm and sat upright, her normal assertiveness returning. ‘Listen, Daniel, I married who I wanted to marry, and I love who I wanted to love, and no one would ever be able to stop me, least of all Dads, whose opinion I do respect. It was only Mummy who wanted Rosie and I to make what she calls brilliant matches – and look what happened when we did!’
Daniel pulled her close again. ‘Do you think I’ll ever get used to people thinking I married you for your money?’
‘I look upon it as Cameron’s money and so should you. I didn’t inherit it, nor did I earn it! Just forget about it and let’s have a lovely life,’ she said, desperate to end this power struggle that existed between them. ‘To hell with what people think! And frankly, to hell with your bloody sister for stirring up trouble.’
‘She’s so jealous of you and now we know why. I’ve refused to have anything more to do with her and that still stands. To send you those red roses with a card that purported to come from an old flame, is unforgivable.’ He paused, looking thoughtful. ‘Now I’ve got to tell Ruth what happened and try and persuade her to let me see the children.’
Juliet looked up into his face. ‘Why were you so ready to believe really bad things about me? And let Ruth believe I’m a whore?’
His eyes drilled hers and he spoke bluntly. ‘Jealousy. Terrible searing bloody jealousy at the thought of your being with anyone else.’ His voice dropped and he looked away, pained. ‘Look, darling, I don’t expect you to have stayed at home all alone on your nights off and you certainly had no reason in the world to be faithful to me. I behaved like a swine because I was so jealous of you marrying Cameron. That’s when it all started to go wrong between us. I wanted you for myself, although I was married. From the moment I set eyes on you, I knew you were the only woman I wanted.’
Juliet reached for his hand and held it in both of hers. Her expression was trusting and she spoke with honesty. ‘What ever I did during the war, including getting engaged to poor Eddie, meant nothing to me, compared to what we’ve always had.’
Daniel held her tightly, as if he could never bear to let her go. ‘The whole world was gripped by madness for five years,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘None of us should be judged on what we did during that time.’
‘The main thing is we’re together now.’
‘Will you ever forgive me for being such an utter fool and such a jealous swine?’
Juliet knew how much it cost a proud dominant man like Daniel to make such an admission and to ask such a question. His sudden humbleness touched her deeply. And she was so exhausted now, she wanted an end to their quarrelling.
She kissed him gently on the lips, a kiss of love and commitment, a kiss of pure devotion. ‘Of course,’ she murmured, her voice low and throaty. ‘There’s nothing to forgive.’