Playing the Game

  “I understand you’ve made it into a bigger success than it was when Marius owned it.”

  Malcolm grinned. “It’s true, but don’t let him hear you say that, it gets his goat. On the other hand, I think in many ways he’s glad to be rid of it. He has his freedom, and that allows him to do so many other things.”

  “I can well imagine,” Jack said pithily.

  Malcolm looked at him alertly, and laughed. “You don’t really like him, do you?”

  “I don’t really know him,” Jack shot back diplomatically.

  “He’s a bit of a blowhard at times, and he’s boastful, so he’s not the most popular chap in town. But he’s basically okay.”

  “You’re one of his protégés, a favorite, so I’m told.”

  “I was a protégé years ago, and Annette has always said I’m the favorite, but I don’t really know if that’s true. Actually, nobody knows how or where they stand with Marius. He’s a clever fellow at hiding his feelings and dissimulating.”

  Jack was startled by Malcolm’s forthrightness, and the candid manner in which he was speaking about Marius; he wondered if a message was being sent.

  Deciding to test the water, Jack went on, as he picked up the menu, “There’s been gossip about Annette and me, I know that, Malcolm. Do you think Marius has heard it?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Further taken aback, Jack said, “And why do you believe that? Has he said something to you, talked about us?”

  “No, I haven’t seen him. He’s been in Barcelona. He just returned on Tuesday night. And we haven’t spoken on the phone either.”

  “So how do you know he’s heard the gossip?”

  “Marius has always had his ear to the ground, and lots of people sort of . . . well, report in to him. And then there’s the cadre of young men who have worked for him, or still do, and they carry lots of tales. They want to curry favor with him.” Glancing at the menu himself, Malcolm looked at Jack and asked, “Do you know what you want?”

  “I do. Shall we order?”

  Almost immediately a waiter came over, and Jack said he would like Colchester oysters, grilled English sole, and chips.

  Malcolm laughed and said, “I’m not an adventurous eater, so I’ll have the same as you.”

  Once they were alone, Malcolm decided to open up to Jack. “I know you’re wondering if you can trust me, and I want to assure you that you can. My loyalty lies with Annette, Jack, and it always has. So you may feel free to speak, as candidly as you wish. It will go no further. I believe you’ve got a lot to get off your chest.”

  “I do, yes, how did you guess?” Jack asked, giving Malcolm a penetrating look.

  “We did have dinner together, remember, and whilst you both were extraordinarily discreet, I picked up on the undercurrent between you. And incidentally, so did Laurie. Who’s exceptionally bright, by the way.”

  “I’d rather gathered that. And yes, I do feel in need of someone to talk to. Also, it goes without saying that I trust you, Malcolm. Otherwise I wouldn’t have called about our having lunch together.”

  “I’m glad you did. I think you might need a friend. . . .”

  “So you know all about us, Malcolm, is that what you’re trying to say?”

  “No, not trying. I’m saying it. And frankly, I’m glad. It’s about time she has some sort of personal happiness. God knows, she needs it.”

  “And before me there was never another man?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “Listen, there’s something I want to tell you now. It’s imperative that I have your promise not to reveal to anyone what I’m about to say.”

  “I thought we’d agreed on total confidentiality at the outset of this conversation.”

  “We did. But what I’m about to tell you could cause the most terrible trouble for someone, an older person I care about.”

  “I understand. So, please, go ahead.”

  At this moment the waiter arrived with their plates of oysters, and once they had been served, Jack continued his story.

  He said, in a low voice, “I know for a fact, from a most reliable and impeccable source, that our friend was involved with an art gallery in Paris, as well as owning the one you now own. It was called the Pegasus, and the owners dealt in fakes. Fabulous forgeries that were so brilliant everyone believed they were genuine.” Lowering his voice even more, he finished, “Marius was apparently a partner in that gallery, until they all got nervous and closed it down in 1979.”

  Malcolm was so astonished he was speechless. Then he shook his head. “It’s very hard to believe he would do anything like that. It’s criminal. They could have all gone to jail. But I trust your source. If you say it’s impeccable, then it must be. The law is very tough in France when it comes to fakes, forgery, you know.”

  “I do. I’d like to change the subject for a moment. Will he give Annette a divorce?”

  “No.”

  Jack nodded. A faint smile flickered. “He has a mistress.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Malcolm answered, threw Jack a pointed look. “A lot of men do.”

  “Annette could divorce him. Citing this woman.”

  “How would she ever know who it was?” Malcolm’s brow shot up quizzically.

  “I would tell her. You see, quite by accident, I know who the woman is. In fact, I saw them together on Tuesday of this week. At La Réserve in Beaulieu. I might say caught them red-handed. Well, almost.”

  “I’ll be buggered!” Malcolm exclaimed, astonishment on his face. “How on earth did that come about?”

  Jack filled him in, adding, “I want to see Annette, Malcolm, but only to talk. I must tell her everything I’ve told you. The problem is, I can’t get to her. She won’t return my calls.”

  Malcolm nodded. “I’m sure she’s running scared. And I do mean scared. Sometimes she seems to be quite frightened of him.”

  “Don’t tell me. I’ve picked up on that. I’ve some more checking to do, a little more investigating, but when I’m ready to see Annette, will you arrange it for me?”

  “Of course I will,” Malcolm responded, and then paused as the plates were removed. After a moment, he went on, “I want to point out something. Marius is a powerful man, devious at times, and perhaps even dangerous. Are you sure you want to take him on?”

  “You can bet your bloody life I do!” Jack exclaimed.

  Forty-one

  Annette knew she had to stay away from Jack to protect him. As long as she didn’t see him, had no contact whatsoever, he would be safe. He could live his life normally and it would be intact. One move toward him and he would be ruined. Marius would see to that. She knew how vengeful her husband could be.

  She sighed heavily as she walked across Eaton Square in the direction of Chesham Place. It was Saturday, and she was going to lunch with Laurie, as she usually did at the end of the week, and looking forward to it. And to being out of the flat.

  Marius had returned earlier this week and he was in a foul mood. Bad tempered, snappish, critical, and in general out of sorts. If she didn’t know better, she would have said he was ill. But he was as strong as a bull and in remarkable health. Only last month he had seen his physician for a checkup, and had come through with flying colors.

  No, it was not ill health that was troubling him. He was angry because he was back home. In the past, when he returned from a trip, he was always in a good mood, caring, loving, and aiming to please. But not this week. Aside from his anger and moodiness, he talked incessantly about the virtues of Barcelona, and she noticed he had made countless phone calls to Spain in the past few days. Speaking in Spanish. Why this was she didn’t know. Business? Another woman? She couldn’t be bothered to fathom it out. She didn’t care.

  Annette felt a wave of tiredness sweep over her as she walked toward her sister’s building. For the last few days she had been exhausted. She had barely slept, had lain awake most nights thinking about Jack, worrying about him, aching to see him, to be w
ith him. She was in love with him, but he was lost to her. It broke her heart knowing they would never be together. Yet she would willingly spend her life apart from him, if this meant he would be safe. That was how much she loved him. He came first. She must protect him.

  Endeavoring to shake off her tiredness, and pushing a bright smile onto her face, she went into Laurie’s building, heading for her flat. Instead of using her key, Annette rang the bell, something she had been doing lately since Laurie had become engaged. She never wanted to intrude on her sister and Malcolm, infringe on their privacy.

  It was Angie, Laurie’s caregiver, who let her in, smiling cheerfully, wishing her good morning.

  “Laurie’s in the den, Annette,” Angie said, and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

  Annette’s heart lifted when she saw how lovely Laurie looked today, her happiness a palpable thing.

  “I’m so glad you’re free for lunch,” Laurie said after they embraced. “I know it’s been such a crazy week for you, with the huge fuss about the next auction and the Degas sculpture. You must be feeling good about it, though.”

  “I am,” Annette replied, sitting down opposite Laurie. “There’s a lot of work to do, but it’s encouraging to know how much anticipation there is, rather exciting, actually.”

  “I’ll help you as much as I can,” Laurie reassured her.

  Annette smiled at her indulgently. “You’ve enough to do! What with a wedding and a baby on the horizon. You are feeling all right, aren’t you? Healthy?”

  “Yes, I am, and I go for weekly checkups to the doctor. I’m very good. And so is Malcolm. There’s nobody like him, Annette, he’s so thoughtful and loving, I’m very lucky.”

  “Yes, you are. He’s one in a million, and he’ll be a good husband to you.”

  “I know. And talking of husbands, how’s Marius?”

  “Not nice. In fact, he’s being beastly, quite nasty.”

  “Could he have heard that silly gossip about Jack?” Laurie looked worried suddenly.

  “I don’t know, and I really don’t care.”

  “Did he like the profile Jack wrote?”

  “Do you know, he’s never even mentioned it to me. Nor has he asked any questions about the general reaction to the two stories in the papers. Or the follow-ups in other newspapers which have been running. He seems totally without interest. But that’s fine by me. I’ve never wanted him messing around in my business.”

  Laurie sat back in her wheelchair, a reflective look settling in her eyes. After a moment, she said, “You might not agree with me, but I think Marius is jealous. I don’t mean about Jack, but about your success. First there was the fabulous Rembrandt auction, and now the enormous excitement about the upcoming auction, and the discovery of The Little Fourteen-Year-Old Dancer. You’ve been in the newspapers all this week, and you’re getting enormous publicity. I think he’s . . . ticked off about it. You’ve stolen his thunder, don’t you think? You’re the star these days, not him.”

  Preoccupied with Jack and their affair, Annette had not thought much about anything else for the past week. She had automatically done her work, with her usual professionalism, but she certainly hadn’t given a thought to the continuing publicity. And now she knew that Laurie had just pinpointed something important . . . possibly the truth.

  “You may be right, darling,” Annette said, and went on, “So where shall I take you for lunch? We might as well go out and celebrate my . . . newfound fame! Even though I think of fame as being totally useless and ephemeral. And not all that important.”

  “I asked Angie to make lunch for us. Do you mind if we eat here? She went to Harrods this morning and bought all sorts of goodies. Smoked salmon, a roast chicken, oysters, chocolate mousse, beetroot salad, and strawberry ice cream.”

  Annette stared at her sister and laughed for the first time in days. “Which are you going to start with? Talk about a special menu for a pregnant woman! Are you craving things?”

  “Well, you like most of those things, Annette, you know you do. I ordered for both of us, not just myself.”

  “I’m teasing you, and of course we can stay here. I prefer it, actually.”

  Over lunch the sisters talked about Laurie’s upcoming wedding in July. She and Annette decided that a save-the-date card should be mailed as soon as possible, and Laurie promised to get the invitations ordered immediately.

  As they discussed the venue, the menu, the flowers, and the guest list, Laurie unexpectedly said, “I wish we knew where Alison was. I’d love her to be at my wedding.”

  “And so would I, darling, but I’ve no idea how to find her. As you so well know, she’s rarely been in touch over the years. Sadly.”

  “The few cards we’ve had were postmarked France, and I know that’s where she would choose to live. She was a genuine dyed-in-the-wool Francophile, wasn’t she?”

  Annette nodded, and suddenly smiled, remembering their lovely cousin. It was Alison who had given them the names Marie Antoinette and Josephine, and written the song for them, which was called “The Rainbow Queens.”

  Almost as if she read her mind, Laurie suddenly began to sing. “ ‘My name is Empress Josephine and I am Queen of France, won’t you come and dance?’ ” She paused and looked across at Annette, and exclaimed, “Oh, you’re crying! Have I upset you? Have I brought back bad memories of those awful days? I’m so sorry.”

  “No, good memories,” Annette answered, wiping her tears away with her fingers. “I was thinking of Alison, and with much love in my heart for her. . . . She saved our lives.” Annette took control of herself, and smiled at her sister.

  “In more ways than one, don’t you think?” Laurie said. “First she saved you from him. And she saved our sanity when she took us out to play in the fields, and out to tea. And when she finally removed us from Craggs End, and went with us to London, to our mother. It took courage on her part, to defy our grandfather. As if he cared whether we were there in Ilkley with him or not.”

  “I don’t think he did, but I’ve realized over the years that he was simply a tired, defeated old man with no strength left.”

  “He didn’t protect you from Gregory when he came home from school,” Laurie pointed out.

  “No, but Alison did, and then paid for it in so many ways.”

  There was a small silence, and finally Laurie murmured in a low voice, “The wisest thing you ever did was go to Dr. Stephanie Lomax. She really helped you to cope with your childhood abuse and rape, didn’t she? Helped you to get better.”

  “Yes, and we also talked a lot about the abuse I suffered when I was older. I learned how to deal with everything eventually. But it did take years. Because abuse is so very damaging.”

  Annette started to cry and took a tissue out of her jacket pocket, wiped her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Laurie. We shouldn’t be talking about the past in this way, not today. We’re supposed to be planning your wedding, settling on the details. So let’s do that, shall we? Let’s be happy today.”

  Laurie merely nodded, and ate a little of the smoked salmon, endeavoring to push away the past, bury it deep. It took a few moments, as it usually did; she knew she would never be free of those memories of what Annette had gone through to protect her when they were little. And she would never forget Annette’s screams when Timothy Findas had beaten her. Their mother had not been able to help. She was always drunk.

  Later, when Annette returned to the flat in Eaton Square, she found a note from Marius. He had gone to Gloucestershire to see a client, and would not be back in time for dinner. He’d added that he might stay over.

  This news filled her with relief. She took off her clothes, put on a robe, and went to lie down on the bed. Exhaustion swamped her, and she tried to sleep but found she could not. Her mind was whirling with thoughts of Jack. She loved him, needed him, wanted him, but it could not be. The tears started again. Her heart was broken and she cried for a long time. But she found some release as she wept, and eventually, worn
out, she fell into a deep sleep. And for once it was dreamless.

  On the other side of London, Jack Chalmers was visiting his aunt, who lived in a comfortable flat in St. John’s Wood.

  Helen North was delighted to see her nephew, and as she poured the tea, she said, “It was lovely of you to bring these things of your mother’s, Jack. I shall treasure them, especially the dressing table set. She loved those silver brushes and the mirror.”

  “I’m glad I picked the right things, Aunt Helen,” Jack answered. “I know she valued them enormously. And listen, there is a lot more stuff at the house in Hampstead. I’ll go up there with you tomorrow, if you can make it, and you can look around.”

  “That’s so nice of you.” Helen glanced at him and asked, “Don’t you want the silver and china? And what about Kyle?”

  “Neither of us want it, Aunt Helen. So you can pick and choose, and I’ll bring it back here for you. I’m using Kyle’s car while he’s away, and we can make a couple of trips if necessary.”

  “I’m sure you’ve better things to do than ferry your aunt around on a Sunday,” Helen said.

  “It’s fine, honestly, I’m happy to do it. The house is for sale, and Kyle and I are anxious to get everything out as soon as possible.”

  “All right then, we have a date.”

  “Good. I’ll pick you up about ten, is that all right?”

  “Perfect.” She indicated the plate of small tea sandwiches and asked, “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “No, not really, but thanks.” He sipped the tea, put the cup down, and said, “Aunt Helen, I’m wondering if you could help me with something . . . something about the past.”

  “If I can I will, Jack, what is it you want to know?”

  “A few things about my father. I mean my biological father, of course. Nigel Clayton.”