Read The Olive Tree Online

Authors: Lucinda Riley

The Olive Tree (40 page)

Eventually they made their way to their table, where more champagne waited for them and waiters plied them with platters of gorgeously presented canapés. Helena ate nothing, but if the
Prince noticed her lack of appetite or her subdued conversation, he gave no indication.

When the announcement came for the guests to enter the main ballroom, Helena couldn’t help but gaze in awe at the rows of marbled Corinthian pillars supporting an ornate coffered ceiling,
from which hung dozens of crystal chandeliers. An orchestra was playing a Viennese waltz on a raised dais, beneath a huge clock that would count the minutes and seconds leading up to midnight.

Then a hush fell and columns of young women, all dressed in white gowns, filed into the ballroom on the arms of their young men.

‘Who are they?’ Helena asked Friedrich.

‘They are the debutantes, and now they will perform a dance to mark their official entry into Viennese society.’

Wondering if she had slipped into unconsciousness and was actually dreaming a ritual from a bygone age, Helena watched them. She couldn’t help but feel a pang in her heart as she saw the
innocent, excited faces; young women with their whole lives ahead of them, and not a care in the world.

As she had once been.

She was snapped back to the present as the debutantes departed sedately, to a round of applause. The red cordons that had held back the rest of the guests were swiftly removed so that the
dancing could begin. Helena lost track of time as Friedrich swept her into his arms and around the golden parquet floor in waltz after waltz. There were other men wanting to dance with her too, and
she did her best to smile and charm them like the princess Friedrich seemed to want her to be.

‘You look so ravishing tonight, Helena. You have truly cast a spell on me and every man here,’ he murmured as the band at last slowed the tempo, and he took the opportunity to draw
her close to him.

Helena felt strangely removed from the proceedings, as though she was watching herself from above. Friedrich bent his blond head to gently caress her neck. ‘I hope that you and I will be
able to spend a great deal more time together in the new year to come.’

‘I’m . . . sure we will,’ she heard herself replying.

Interpreting her answer as encouragement, Friedrich pressed his cheek against her hair as they moved in an elegant circle beneath a chandelier. ‘Please, Helena . . .’ he whispered in
her ear, ‘say you’ll come home with me tonight.’

At his words, Helena came back down to earth with a jolt. She pulled back her head to gaze up at him, his kind eyes shining with obvious adoration.

What am I doing here?
she thought in panic. She glanced up at the clock, suddenly feeling horribly sick and very faint, and saw it was barely more than ten minutes to midnight.
Friedrich’s face immediately became a picture of concern.

‘Helena,
liebling
, are you all right?’

‘I’m not sure. I . . . feel a little strange. I think I need to sit down.’

Friedrich solicitously escorted her from the floor and settled her back at their table, then left to find her a glass of water. As she sat there, her head continued to spin. Wanting desperately
to be alone for a few moments, she rose from the table and headed in the direction of the ladies’ powder room.

After splashing her face with cold water, Helena felt a little better. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and her hands reached for her bag so that she could retrieve her lipstick. Still
shaky, as she fumbled with the clasp she managed to drop it on the floor, spilling its contents onto the tiles. Bending to pick up the scattered items, she saw the white plastic stick staring up at
her like a miniature sword of Damocles.

How can I even contemplate a relationship with another man while this is hanging over me?
she berated herself.

She knew Friedrich would be waiting for her, and that this was hardly an appropriate moment, but she also knew that she
had
to find out for sure before she could begin to think
clearly.

What the new year would hold for her and her future depended on the object in her hands. Heart hammering, Helena headed for a cubicle.

And three minutes later, she had the answer.

Groups of people were milling around the foyer and hardly noticed the young woman running across the marble floor, the skirts of her pale-pink ball gown billowing out behind
her.

Almost tripping down the staircase that led to the main entrance, Helena paused for a second to tug off her high-heeled evening shoes, throwing them heedlessly to one side before she fled out
into the sparkling, frosty night.

Just as the bells of St Stephen’s Cathedral began to toll midnight. And ring in the New Year.

She barely noticed the freezing snow beneath her stockinged feet as she ran across the courtyard, then under the domed arch and eventually out onto the street. Through the pounding of blood in
her ears, she dimly heard a male voice behind her, shouting her name.

She did not turn to look back.

κε

Twenty-five

Helena glanced upwards through Alex’s window and saw a full moon shining down, just as it had on the night she’d run from the Hofburg Palace. The mother of the
skies – calmly watching over her human children as they tripped and fell beneath her, lighting their way in the darkness as they picked themselves up.

‘So . . .’ Helena pulled herself back from her memories. ‘That’s the story. I wish I could make it better for you, Alex, but I can’t.’

Finally he spoke. ‘No, you can’t. But I still don’t understand why this has anything to do with Alexis.’

‘I . . .’ Helena paused in an agony of indecision as to whether she should tell him. It was too much for any son to learn about his mother, let alone at the age of just thirteen.

‘Whatever it is, Mum, you can’t make it any worse.’ Alex read her thoughts. ‘So come on then, spit it out.’

‘I got pregnant by Alexis when I was staying here at Pandora.’

‘But . . . you were only fifteen.’ Alex’s voice was barely more than a strangled whisper.

‘Yes. And I . . . didn’t have it. I felt I had no choice. And it was so, so dreadful. I’ve never forgiven myself to this day for what I did. So, when I found out I was having
you, I couldn’t, just
couldn’t
, do it again. I had to have you, whatever the cost.’

Helena could hear Alex breathing, nothing more.

‘With the new ballet looming, it wasn’t fair to stay on with the company – after all, I could hardly have portrayed ‘The Little Dancer’ at six months pregnant when
it premiered in March. And in the meantime, it wouldn’t have been fair on anyone to continue pretending. I told Fabio to find another partner, and left the company at the end of January. I
decided I’d stay on in Vienna. One way and another, going back to England wasn’t an option. I had some money saved from what my mother had left me after she died, which I used to get
through the pregnancy, and I started working at Café Landtmann, not far from the Opera House, as a waitress. They liked the fact I could speak English as well as basic German, and they were
very kind to me. I worked up to the day before you arrived unexpectedly, over a month prematurely.

‘But you were fine and healthy, and you were so gorgeous.’ Helena felt a catch in her throat as she remembered. ‘I called you Alexander, both in remembrance of the little one
I’d never had and after your biological father. There didn’t seem to be a choice,’ she shrugged with a faint smile. ‘And of course, Rudolf as a second name, after Nureyev,
the famous dancer who died so tragically young, only a few days after I found out I was expecting you.’

There was still silence from Alex. What else could she expect? So she continued.

‘After I’d had you, it was a very difficult time. You needed some specialist care as a premature baby, and to top it all I wasn’t very well either. I suffered from a rare
condition called postpartum eclampsia – I don’t want to sound dramatic, but I nearly died, Alex, which meant I struggled for far longer to get back to full health. We were both in the
hospital for over two months. After that, returning to dancing simply wasn’t an option at the time. It may sound ridiculous to you, but a ballerina has to be as physically fit – if not
fitter – than a Premier League football player. I did get better slowly, thank God, and for the first year I was happy just to be with you. And Alex, Fabio was just wonderful with you. He
played with you, took you out for walks and was as much of a father as any man could be. As you know, he also gave you Bee, your bunny . . .’

Helena paused before continuing. Unable to see her son’s expression in the darkness, it was impossible to gauge what he was thinking.

‘And then there was Gretchen, who lived in the apartment above us. When I went back to work at the café, as I needed to earn us some money urgently, she looked after you. You loved
her, Alex. She was fat and jolly and used to feed you home-made fruit strudels and pancakes. Do you remember her?’

‘No,’ came the terse reply.

‘Anyway, as I grew stronger, with Fabio’s encouragement, I eventually started taking classes, thinking that I might be able to go back to partnering him again. Then Fabio told me
he’d been offered a contract at the New York City Ballet, and begged me to bring you and go with him. He never did like Vienna. But Alex, I knew that I just wasn’t anywhere near up to
the standard required. The New York City Ballet dancers are amongst the most athletic in the world. I didn’t want to arrive as Fabio’s partner and not have the physical and mental
stamina needed to cope – which would then have set
him
back on his career path, and that wouldn’t have been fair.

‘So I told him that I didn’t want to uproot both of us and go to New York. You can imagine that when he left Vienna, I was distraught. I gave up the idea of ever returning to
dancing, and continued to work as a waitress. Then we had to leave our lovely apartment, and Gretchen, because I simply couldn’t afford it, and we moved to what was little more than a
freezing rabbit hutch above the café I worked at. I was at my lowest ebb when, a few months later, I met William.’

Helena paused, trying to find the strength to go on.

‘William brought me back to life, Alex, he really did. He was so kind and steady, and such a genuinely good person. And slowly, I fell in love with him. Not in the “first love”
way I’d adored Alexis, or in the mad, reckless way I’d felt about Sacha, but something that was deeper and stronger. I’m telling you all this, Alex, because it’s the truth
and also, it’s your story too. I don’t expect you to understand or forgive me.’

Helena looked at her son’s silhouette, framed against the moonlight.

‘When William asked me to go with him back to England, I eventually agreed. I had to take time to make sure I wasn’t hanging on to him for the wrong reasons. Not that he was
particularly wealthy at the time – Cecile had got the family home in the divorce, so he was living in a poky rented cottage. But we were so happy there, Alex, and I knew it was right. So then
he asked me to marry him, and I said yes. We managed to buy Cedar House at an auction and made plans to set about turning it into our home. Honestly, Alex, I’ve never felt so completely happy
and content as I did then. That was, until our wedding day . . .’ Helena lapsed into silence.

‘What happened?’ Alex muttered eventually.

‘William had told me about Sacha – this great friend of his from school and Oxford days, who was living out in Singapore, but who would be coming over especially for our wedding with
his wife. I was literally walking down the aisle in the registry office when I saw him staring at me in shock. Later, William introduced this man as his best friend, “Sacha” –
which I now know is a shortened version of “Alexander”. I’m not joking, I nearly fainted during the vows, my heart was racing so fast.’

‘Did you speak to him afterwards?’

‘No, or at least, not in private. William introduced us, of course, but I’m sure you can imagine how Sacha proceeded to get horribly drunk and had to be carted off to his hotel room
by Jules. Not before she’d met you, then told me all about Rupert, their young son, born just four months before you. And of course, I then knew why “Alexander” had never come
back to me in Vienna. God, Alex.’ Helena put her head in her hands. ‘It was dreadful . . . dreadful. I spent most of our lovely honeymoon in Thailand sleepless, trying to decide whether
I should just tell William the truth outright, and have done with it. Then it would be up to him to choose whether he wanted to divorce me or not. But I was too scared of losing him. I loved him,
Alex, I was so happy,
you
were so happy . . . I just couldn’t bring myself to say the words and turn the fairy tale into a nightmare. I comforted myself with the thought that Sacha
lived on the other side of the world, that even if they were best friends, our paths were unlikely to cross very often. And for the first few years, that was the way it was. I even managed to
forget sometimes, to put it to the back of my mind.’

Helena paused for breath, distractedly running a hand through her hair. ‘Of course, I know now in retrospect that I should have told William the moment I saw Sacha. Anything would have
been better than living with this awful, awful secret. And waiting for it to be discovered. Then, as you know, Sacha, Jules and the children came back to live in England. We didn’t see them
very often, thank God. They came to stay for the weekend sometimes, and William saw Sacha by himself in London. Then Jules heard we were coming to Cyprus to stay in the house I’d inherited
and, insisting she needed to get away, invited herself and her family. I could hardly say no, but I was absolutely petrified. Something told me disaster was looming. And, my God, I was
right.’

Helena shook her head slowly in the darkness. ‘And that’s all, really, darling. There’s nothing more to say. If I’ve destroyed you, Alex, I can only apologise and tell
you that I love you more than anything in the world. I kept the secret to protect you, and William and our family.’

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