‘I am a bit, but if you really want to, I’d love to see you now. I could send Pete.’
‘No, darling, I’m a little tired myself. I’ve had – well, a rather interesting conversation with C. J.’
‘I know. That’s really why I rang. To see if you were all right.’
‘Much more all right than you – anyone – might think. Of course it was a shock, but you know, Phaedria, I had suspected something like this. Well, no, not suspected, that is putting it too strongly, but it certainly wasn’t as – well, surprising, as it must have been to you.’
‘Really, Letitia? How extraordinary. Tell me why.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. It seemed such a nonsense, leaving that
will, that inheritance to a complete stranger. It had to be a kind of riddle. And most riddles have perfectly obvious answers after all.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘You see, he did have this passion for deceit. Secrecy is perhaps a kinder word. He loved it even as a little boy. He used to go to such lengths to surprise me with birthday presents, things like that. And then there was his Resistance training in the war; he had to assume at least two, three I think, completely different identities. Separate papers, passports, everything. He adored it and he was brilliant at it. It’s my guess this thing started as a sort of game, that he was bored one day and decided to see how far he could take it and then it got out of hand; probably when this poor woman’s husband died, and he was looking after her, or decided to keep an eye on Miles, he had got rather close to them all and it was just too late to say, “Er – actually, I’m not who I said I was.” Do you see what I mean? And then of course –’ her voice trailed away just slightly; there was a short, painful silence. ‘There – there just might be another explanation. Don’t you think?’
‘Oh,’ said Phaedria quickly, determinedly, hearing in Letitia’s quiet, almost detached tone the black nightmare that had first attacked her on the plane drawing nearer reality, ‘if you mean what I think you mean, no, I don’t. Not possibly. That couldn’t be right. It just couldn’t.’
‘No, of course not,’ said Letitia. ‘No, obviously it couldn’t. Well, perhaps we can talk about it all a bit more tomorrow. When I come and meet that baby. Now then,’ she said, deliberately changing her tone of voice, her mood, ‘you’ve heard about Miles, have you?’
‘Well yes –’
‘I mean how deliciously handsome and charming he is?’
‘I’m beginning to get the idea,’ said Phaedria, laughing, relieved to feel the nightmare fading again, ‘I shall meet him tomorrow, I imagine. Roz has whisked him off to Scotland so I can’t steal a march on her and inveigle the shares away from him while she’s not there. Poor Roz,’ she added, ‘I understand she’s terribly upset.’
‘Yes, she is.’
‘I did phone her to try and speak to her, but I missed her
twice. I thought I’d ring her tonight at Garrylaig. She must see it as the ultimate betrayal. I mean, all this time she’s thought that through all the relationships, all the wives, all the mistresses, she came first, that he loved her best, and now there’s been this shadowy figure, this other life all along.’
‘It’s a pity Michael isn’t here with her,’ said Letitia with a sigh, ‘I understand they’ve quarrelled. Again. Now of all times. Well, I do hope they make it up. He really is the only man in the world who can handle her. She needs him terribly badly.’
Phaedria wondered, as she put the phone down, if she had detected or merely imagined a very slightly ominous note in Letitia’s voice.
Eliza took the news remarkably well.
‘Nothing that old so and so did would surprise or shock me, darling. If you told me he’d made off with the crown jewels or that he had personally murdered Lord Lucan, I would think it par for the course. I think it’s all rather romantic. I just wish I’d known before, when he was alive, and I could have teased him about it all. You mustn’t be too upset, Roz, he really was rather – well, odd. I know you loved him terribly and if it’s any comfort to you, I think you were the only person he really loved in return, but I don’t think this means you have to think he loved you any less.’
‘He must have quite loved Miles,’ said Roz soberly, ‘to have done this to us all.’
‘I don’t think so. Quite the reverse. If he’d really loved him, he would have brought him out of the wardrobe or whatever the expression is, before. Good God – I – no, no, surely not. Probably not. Well –’
‘Mummy, what on earth are you talking about?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Eliza, appearing to shake herself. ‘Just a thought. Take no notice, darling. My mind’s wandering. Senility setting in. Miles is frightfully handsome, isn’t he?’ she said quickly. ‘And what a charmer. We could hardly have a more delightful pretender to the throne, could we?’
‘Not, not really,’ said Roz listlessly. ‘I’m sorry, Mummy, I simply can’t take this rather pragmatic view of yours. And Letitia’s, it seems. C. J. phoned and says she’s just fine. Says she’s always suspected it or some such nonsense. I just see it as an awful betrayal.’
‘Oh, I think the will was,’ said Eliza, ‘don’t get me wrong. But this double life business, well, it’s just too ridiculous. Silly. You mustn’t let it upset you too much.’ She looked at Roz’s drawn, pale face and shadowed eyes. ‘How’s Michael?’
‘Fine,’ said Roz briefly. ‘Very busy.’
‘Really? I would have thought he would have been over, with all this.’
‘Why ever should he? He has a business to look after. Why should a lot of nonsense like this have him rushing away from it?’
‘He knows how much you loved your father. He wouldn’t think it was nonsense. When is he coming over?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Roz irritably. ‘I really haven’t discussed it with him.’
Eliza gave her a probing look. ‘Have you quarrelled?’
‘No. Well, in a way, yes.’
‘What about?’
‘Oh, just about everything. I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘Don’t lose him, Roz. He’s the right man for you.’
‘That’s not what you said once,’ said Roz bitterly. ‘And I have a broken marriage to show for it.’
‘I know and I was wrong. Although I don’t think I want to take the entire responsibility for your divorce on to my shoulders. But pride is a destructive thing, Roz. If it’s even half your fault, you should apologize.’
‘It isn’t,’ said Roz shortly, ‘and I’m not going to.’
‘All right, darling. Have it your own way. How’s Phaedria?’
‘I haven’t the faintest idea,’ said Roz. ‘She only got back today.’
‘Ah,’ said Eliza, ‘so that’s it. You were afraid she’d get Miles on to her side while you were up here. I did wonder.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Roz. ‘I just thought he might as well come and meet you than hang around in London.’
Eliza looked at her. ‘Which way do you think he’s going to jump?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Roz wearily. ‘He doesn’t want to jump at all. Just go home again to California and his girlfriend.’
‘Well, offer to buy him out and then he can.’
‘I know, but it’s not as simple as that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, because he knows he has to make a decision.’
‘Well, darling, I would have thought you were capable of leaning on him quite hard enough to persuade him. I would also have thought,’ she added, an expression that was half humorous, half shrewd in her green eyes, ‘it might be quite a pleasure. Come along, darling, let’s go and have tea. I haven’t told Peveril too much about all this yet, he already sees us as only a little better than the Borgias.’
‘Mummy, I don’t think you should tell anyone about it,’ said Roz. ‘I don’t want the gossip columns getting on to it. It would damage us all.’
Eliza’s large green eyes were widely candid. ‘Of course I won’t, darling. Who would I tell?’
‘Oh, nobody much. Just a few close, intimate friends. Nigel Dempster, Peter Langan. Your friend Marigold Turner. No, Mummy, you really are not to talk about it. To anyone.’
‘So in that case, who is Miles supposed to be?’ said Eliza crossly.
‘An old friend of the family who’s been mentioned in Daddy’s will. Who it’s taken us a while to track down. OK? We really cannot afford a major scandal about all this.’
‘Rosamund, whenever did I show any predilection for mixing myself up in major scandals?’
‘Oh,’ said Roz, looking at her mother with a mixture of exasperation and affection, ‘just about every week of your life so far. Come on, let’s go and have tea. I can’t wait to see Peveril and Miles together.’
‘They were something else,’ said Miles happily to Roz as they flew back to London in the company plane next morning. ‘I thought he was just the neatest old guy I ever met. I said I would ask him over to stay with us in California in the summer. He said he had always wanted to surf.’
‘Good God,’ said Roz, contemplating with great pleasure the vision of Peveril complete with knickerbockers and deerstalker riding a board in the Malibu surf. ‘Can I come too? I wouldn’t miss that for anything.’
‘Sure,’ said Miles. ‘I’d really like that. And you could bring little Miranda, too,’ he added, ‘she’s a cute kid. Does she live up here all the time?’
‘No, it’s just that she was up there anyway, it’s good for her, the air and so on, and with all this drama going on, I thought she and Nanny might as well stay for a while longer.’
Miles looked at her curiously. She talked about and indeed behaved towards Miranda as if she was a small, none-too-familiar puppy; he had heard the English were very odd in their attitude to their children, first shutting them away in nurseries with starchy uniformed nannies, and then sending them straight off to school: it was obviously true.
‘I guess she’ll be off to boarding school soon,’ he said. Roz looked at him sharply, suspecting he was trying to score off her, but he smiled back at her with such transparent friendliness that she had to smile back.
‘Not for a year or two,’ she said. ‘In fact, not till she’s at least eleven.’
‘Did you go to boarding school?’
‘Yes, I did. And I hated it.’
‘So why send her at all?’
‘Well, because she has to go some time,’ said Roz, looking at him as if he was querying the basis of the entire British constitution, ‘because it’ll be good for her.’
‘It wasn’t good for you.’
‘How do you know?’ she said, quite crossly, ‘what was good and bad for me?’
‘Lots of things have been bad for you, I’d say,’ he said. ‘Otherwise you’d be happier.’
‘How do you know I’m not happy?’
‘I feel it,’ he said, ‘I feel it and I see it.’
‘Well, that’s just ridiculous.’
‘Why? Are you happy?
‘Well, not at the moment, no. Of course I’m not. I have a lot to be unhappy about.’
‘Like this business with your dad?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Yeah, that’s tough. I can see that. But before that were you happy?’
‘Well, yes, of course I was.’
‘That’s all right then,’ he said, leaning back in the seat, looking out of the window. Something about his complete air of relaxation and detachment irritated Roz.
‘Don’t you believe me?’
‘Not really.’
‘Why not?’
‘You don’t seem like a lady who’s happy. Not to me. Of course I may be wrong.’
‘You are.’
‘Good,’ he said, ‘that’s fine. You should know, I guess.’
‘Yes, I certainly should.’
‘OK. I’m really glad.’
He looked at her, his dark blue eyes examining her green ones, scanning her face, and smiled. ‘It’s all right,’ he said, putting out his hand, covering hers with it. ‘You don’t have to take any notice of me. I’m just a schmuck from California. I guess I don’t understand you guys at all.’
‘No,’ said Roz, pulling her hand away, still irritated. ‘You don’t.’
‘OK,’ he said lazily, ‘but don’t get so uptight about it.’
‘I’m not uptight.’
‘You are, Roz,’ he said. ‘You’re seriously uptight. But if you won’t talk about it, then it has to stay your problem. If you don’t want me to help, that’s fine.’
‘And what,’ she said edgily, ‘do you think you could do to help?’
‘Oh,’ he said, his eyes caressing hers briefly, moving down, resting on her mouth, ‘I could do a lot. I told you that the other night.’
Roz was silent for a while, digesting this, trying to suppress the conflicting emotions within her: irritation, misery, a desire at once to get closer to Miles and to keep her distance, and despite herself, the odd sense of physical disarray, of pleasant warm confusion he induced in her.
She looked at her watch. Only twenty minutes to go. Discretion won.
‘It’s very very kind of you,’ she said, coolly courteous, ‘to be so concerned about me. But I really am perfectly all right. Or will be when this is over.’
‘Good,’ he said. ‘I’m really glad. I think I’ll take a nap.’
He smiled at her again, reached out in a tender, unexpected gesture and touched her cheek, and then closed his eyes and was asleep in seconds.
Phaedria was just finishing her breakfast and concurrently giving Julia hers when the phone rang.
‘Hi, darling. It’s me.’
Her head promptly disintegrated into a million fragments; she felt a rush of huge, bright pleasure, followed by the now familiar sense of panic and unease.
‘Aren’t you speaking to me? Don’t I get any kind of a reward for having Franco wake me at five in the morning just so I could hear your voice? You’re a hard woman, Lady Morell.’
She laughed. ‘I’m sorry. I was surprised.’
‘Good. That was the idea. I plan to keep surprising you, catching you unawares. Eventually, I plan to catch you so unawares you won’t even know what you’re doing, and whether it’s all right to be doing it. How are you?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Good. And what are you doing?’
‘Feeding Julia.’
‘Oh, God,’ he said, ‘oh, God.’
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Oh, nothing,’ he said, ‘just having a little trouble with a particular part of my anatomy. Brought on by the image of Julia taking her breakfast.’
‘Oh, Michael,’ she said, with a mixture of a laugh and a sigh in her voice. ‘Don’t, please don’t.’
‘Listen, honeybunch, I’m trying not to. It isn’t easy.’
Phaedria gave up. ‘It’s so nice to hear your voice.’
‘That’s better. What are you going to do today?’