FORTY-ONE
They sat at a table for two, hidden away in a corner near a bank of massed hydrangea, tulip and azalea plants, sipping champagne.
Maxim said, ‘I enjoyed meeting your mother, she’s very charming. Is your father here tonight?’
‘Oh yes, he’s standing over there near the bar with that group of men. He’s the one with the blue cornflower in his buttonhole.’ Anastasia smiled as she spoke and her face dimpled prettily. ‘Daddy always wears a flower. It’s sort of… his trademark.’
Maxim followed the direction of her gaze, craned his neck. ‘Ah yes, I see him. He’s a very handsome man.’ Turning to her he remarked, ‘Your name is Russian, but I presume your father has lived in France for a long time?’
‘He was born here. In 1918. My grandparents are White Russians who came to Paris in 1917, at the time of the Revolution, and they’ve lived here ever since.’
‘From speaking to your mother, I gather she is English.’
‘Yes, but her father had a French mother, and she’s got French blood, and therefore so do I. Well, a drop anyway, and Russian and English; actually, I’m a bit of a mongrel.’
‘A thoroughbred, I would say.’
Anastasia flushed with pleasure at this compliment and murmured, ‘And you’re English, aren’t you, Maxim?’
‘By upbringing, education and citizenship, but I was born in Germany.’
‘Were you really! I would never have guessed that.’ She leaned across the table eagerly. ‘But you do live in Paris now, don’t you?’
‘No, London. Unfortunately.’
‘Why do you say unfortunately?’
He gave her a long, speculative look. ‘Because you’re not there.’
She stared back at him and her luminous eyes danced. ‘I love London, and I go often to visit my English grandmother.’
‘We’ll see each other when you next come.’
Anastasia nodded. ‘Granny’s expecting me in August.’
‘I’ll collect you at the airport.’
‘That’ll be wonderful.’
Maxim looked at her carefully. He said, ‘Will they let you get married?’
‘When?’
‘Now.’
‘No, not yet. When I’m twenty. Perhaps. In two years.’
‘Next year?’
‘Maybe.’
‘I’m serious, Anastasia.’
‘Oh I know you are. So am I, Maxim.’
They sat staring at each other, their eyes locked, and they did not speak for the longest time, reflecting on each other’s words.
Suddenly Anastasia said, ‘Come and meet my father.’
They rose together, and Maxim took her hand and they walked across the tented garden to the bar on the other side.
Alexander Derevenko’s eyes lit up when he saw his daughter approaching; it was quite obvious from the expression on his face that he adored her. Derevenko was tall, well built, an imposing-looking man, with dark curly hair, light-grey eyes and a somewhat broad Slavic face. He was dressed in a beautifully tailored silk-mohair dinner jacket; a deep-blue silk handkerchief flared in his breast pocket, matched the small fresh flower in his buttonhole.
‘Anastasia!’ he exclaimed, smiling at his daughter warmly. ‘Where have you been for the last half hour?’
‘Dancing… talking… with Maxim, Daddy.’ She glanced at Maxim, then back at her father, and went on, ‘I’d like to introduce him to you. Maximilian West… Alexander Derevenko.’
‘I’m very pleased to meet you, sir,’ Maxim said, taking her father’s outstretched hand.
‘My pleasure, Mr West. Let me present my friends and associates, Ilya Lopert, Gregory Ratoff, Anatole Litvak, and Sam Spiegel.’
Maxim shook hands with the four men, who greeted him most cordially, before turning their collective attention on Anastasia. She was obviously a favourite of theirs, and they appeared to be extremely fond of her.
Alexander addressed Maxim. ‘Do you know the de Millinets from Paris or Cannes, Mr West?’
‘From Cannes. But actually I don’t know them very Well, sir. They’re friends of the Trentons, who are the parents of my best friend, Alan. I came with him tonight.’
‘Oh, are the Trentons here?’ Derevenko asked. ‘I’d like to say hello to them. I’ve met them from time to time, over the years, mostly with the de Millinets in Cannes. Charming couple.’
‘They’re in Hong Kong, Mr Derevenko. That’s why Alan and I popped over from London for the weekend. To attend Yvette’s engagement party in their place, and also to do a bit of business.’
‘What type of business are you in, Mr West?’
‘Finance. I’m a financier.’
‘Are you really, how interesting,’ Alexander Derevenko said.
Anastasia slipped her arm through Maxim’s and announced, ‘We’d better go and find Alan. We did promise to sit with him for dinner.’
‘Oh. Oh yes, that’s right,’ Maxim said, quickly catching on, understanding that she wanted to escape.
With a huge smile, Anastasia blew her father and his friends several kisses, and then glided off on Maxim’s arm.
‘I’m sorry I had to tell a white lie,’ she whispered as they moved away. ‘But if we hadn’t escaped then my father would have engaged you in an everlasting conversation about film finance, and all that sort of boring business stuff. I saw the gleam enter his eye when you told him you were a financier.’
Maxim grinned. ‘But I don’t finance films.’
‘He doesn’t know that, and in any case, we didn’t want to get stuck with Mummy and Daddy for supper, did we?’
He shook his head. ‘And that was a good idea of yours. I do think we ought to look for Alan, find out what he’s up to with Camilla Galland.’
‘Do you know her?’ Anastasia asked swiftly, looking at him through the corner of her eye.
‘No. I’ve never met her. But I did see her last play in the West End. She’s really rather a good actress.’
‘I think she’s supposed to be in a film for one of Daddy’s associates, Pierre Petrovicci, so perhaps that’s why she’s here tonight. Pierre is a close friend of Jacques de Millinet, whose bank finances a lot of movies, and especially for Daddy’s little clique.’
‘Who are those four men I just met? What do they do?’
‘They’re lobby sitters,’ Anastasia replied, her eyes full of sudden merriment. ‘My mother says they’re the greatest lobby sitters of all time.’
‘I’m not following you,’ Maxim frowned in puzzlement. ‘Why does she say that about them?’
‘Because they’re always sitting in the lobbies of the best hotels around the world. The George V and the Prince de Galles here in Paris, Claridge’s in London, the Excelsior in Rome, the St Regis in New York, and the Beverly Hills in Beverly Hills,’ she explained, laughing. ‘Having their endless business confabs. Talking picture deals.’ She laughed again and finished, ‘But joking aside, they are rather important men in the film industry.’
‘But what do they do, actually?’
‘Sam Spiegel’s a wonderful producer. He made The Bridge on the River Kwai, and The African Queen, to name only a couple of his great films. And now he’s thinking of making one about Lawrence of Arabia, so Daddy tells me;’ Anastasia said. ‘Grisha Ratoff and Tole Litvak are both directors, and Ilya Lopert is a producer, like Daddy and Mr Spiegel. One of his last pictures was Summertime. Daddy took us to Venice when they were making it, that’s my most favourite place. Anyway, the film was lovely, very romantic. Perhaps you saw it?’
‘As a matter of fact, I did. Katharine Hepburn and Rossano Brazzi, right? And what about your father? What I mean is, would I have seen any of his films?’
‘I’m sure you must have. His last one was called Eyes of Love.’ There was a little pause before Anastasia added, ‘Camilla Galland was in it, although she wasn’t the star. Janice Mills was the leading lady.’
Maxim said, ‘I did see it, and it was terrific, a wonderful stor
y. So you must know Camilla.’
‘Not really, but I have met her.’
‘I haven’t. Shall we go over and say hello to her? Look, she’s standing over there and she’s still with Alan. She seems to have attached herself to him. Or vice versa.’ Maxim looked at Anastasia and winked, his expression turning wickedly suggestive. ‘Good old Stubby, I’m delighted he’s found himself a girl for the evening.’
‘Stubby!’ Anastasia exclaimed, staring at him. ‘What a peculiar name.’
Maxim couldn’t help laughing at the look of disbelief on her face. ‘I suppose it is,’ he chortled. ‘And it’s my fault. I once called him that at boarding school when we were about eight or nine, and I’m afraid it stuck. In retaliation, he nicknamed me Duke, after Duke Maximilian of Austria, because he said I was imperious.’
‘Are you?’
‘Sometimes. At least, Stubby says I am.’
She was reflective for a moment, then declared, ‘Duke is certainly a better name than Stubby.’
‘That it is,’ Maxim agreed. ‘Come on, let’s join them.’
***
‘Hello, Anastasia, it’s so lovely to see you again,’ Camilla Galland said, smiling sweetly, leaning forward and pecking her on the cheek.
Anastasia said, ‘It’s nice to see you too. I’d like to introduce Maximilian West, he’s a friend of Alan’s.’
Camilla and Maxim shook hands, and exchanged greetings.
Alan told them: ‘We were just about to come and look for you. I think we ought to find ourselves a table and commandeer it. People are already beginning to sit down.’
‘Yes, we should do that,’ Anastasia concurred. ‘Yvette told me there wouldn’t be any place cards this evening, so we can sit wherever we wish.’
‘That’s a cosy table for four over there, let’s grab it,’ Maxim said, as usual taking charge in his masterful way. He immediately guided Anastasia towards it, saying quietly, ‘I picked a small table because it’s more intimate. Having just found you again, I don’t want to share you with a lot of other people.’
She gazed at him through solemn eyes and admitted softly, ‘And I don’t want to share you either.’
They stood staring at each other, oblivious to everyone else, and Maxim had to resist the temptation to kiss her. She took his breath away, made him forget everything. Swallowing hard, he propelled her forward, wondering how and when to get her alone.
Once they were seated at the table, Maxim reached for her hand, held it tightly, and said, ‘I believe it was most fortuitous that Stubby and I came to this party tonight.’
She nodded in agreement, sat looking at him through eyes grown dreamy, thinking how wonderful he was. She wished they were alone so that he could kiss her. She knew he wanted to, just as she did.
Camilla and Alan joined them at the table, took their seats, and Camilla immediately engaged Maxim in conversation.
Stubby turned to Anastasia and said, with a friendly smile, ‘Your mother told me you have a new villa in Cannes.’
‘Yes, in the hills above the town. It’s very beautiful, and my mother loves it because the grounds are much larger, and she can garden away to her heart’s content. I suppose your parents still have a house down there?’
Stubby nodded. ‘They bought another place a couple of years ago, too. Listen, maybe we can all get together later this month? Maxim and I are planning to be down there at the end of July. Will you be in Cannes then?’
‘Oh yes.’
Maxim, who had been listening to their conversation with one ear, whilst talking to Camilla, squeezed her hand and glanced at her quickly. He said, ‘I’ll need your phone numbers in Paris and Cannes, and I’ll give you mine, Anastasia, so that—’
‘Now I realise why I think I know you, Maximilian!’ Camilla cut in, and rushed on, ‘I’ve seen your picture in the newspapers, in fact I see it all the time. You’re very popular with the press.’
Maxim hoped the actress wouldn’t say anything about his reputation for being a playboy, which was untrue and undeserved. Much to his relief Camilla did not mention this. Instead she said, ‘You’re a friend of Faith Carr’s, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, I am. So is Stubby. Her boyfriend, John Fuller, used to be at boarding school with us. Is she a friend of yours?’
‘One of my closest,’ Camilla answered, smiling at Maxim.
‘Good old Johnny-boy, he’s quite the lad,’ Stubby cried, grinning, and the three of them launched into a long discourse about the engaged couple and their stormy on-again, off-again relationship.
Anastasia sat back in the chair, and sipped the iced water a waiter had just poured, listening to her companions with only half an ear. Her thoughts were focused on Camilla Calland. There was something about her she did not like. Yet she could not put her finger on exactly what it was about the girl which so disturbed her. All she knew was that she felt slightly uneasy in Camilla’s company tonight, as she had when she had met her in the past. Consequently, she was on her guard, wary.
The other three were laughing uproariously about something and there was quite a lot of frivolity between them at this moment, and Anastasia found herself growing suddenly quiet and withdrawn. She felt like being the observer rather than a participant, at least for now.
Maxim was busy talking; he did not seem to notice her constraint, and for this she was thankful. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was aloof or snobbish. She was not; it was Camilla’s presence which made her feel cautious, and watchful. Once again Anastasia wondered why this was so. She hardly knew the English actress, had met her only a couple of times before, when Camilla had been in the movie her father had made last year. And if she was honest with herself, the young woman had always been cordial and pleasant.
As she had been so far this evening, Anastasia had to admit, and glanced across the table at her, thinking that Camilla was rather pretty in an understated way. She was very English-looking with her reddish-blonde hair, translucent complexion and light-green eyes. Anastasia knew she was about twenty-six but she looked younger than this, despite the rather sophisticated black-lace, halter-necked gown she was wearing and all the costly jewellery.
I wonder who gave her the diamonds? This thought made Anastasia sit up in the chair with a small jolt. And then something immediately clicked in her mind. Only last summer she had heard her mother and Aunt Lucrezia talking about Camilla Galland in the garden of Lucrezia’s villa in Cannes. They had been speculating who Camilla’s current ‘protector’ was, and discussing her extraordinary collection of jewels, and Lucrezia had said, ‘She looks as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, doesn’t she?’ Both women had laughed knowingly, and her mother said, ‘She bears watching, that one.’ And they had laughed again, and gone on to talk about the painting her father was thinking of buying.
Is that it? Anastasia now asked herself. Am I leery of her because of the things my mother and Aunt Lucrezia implied, or is there something else about Camilla Galland which bothers me? She was not sure.
Maxim said, ‘You’re awfully quiet, Anastasia, and I can’t say I blame you. Here we are, talking about people you don’t know, and excluding you. How very rude of us.’ He stared into her face. ‘And you look so very pensive. What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing, really,’ Anastasia reassured, turning to face him, smiling into his powerful dark eyes.
‘Come and dance with me,’ he said, rising, helping her out of the small, gold-painted chair.
Once again Maxim held her very close on the dance floor, and she responded by clinging to him tightly. It was obvious to them both that they shared the same overwhelming attraction for each other and identical feelings.
They had only been dancing for a few seconds when he murmured against her ear, ‘Yvette is your friend, so you must know this place well. Can’t we escape for a while, to be alone? Go for a stroll somewhere? When we arrived tonight I couldn’t help noticing that the grounds of this house are very extensive.’
&nb
sp; ‘They are, and yes, let’s go for a walk, get a little air. It’s stuffy in the marquee.’
Hand in hand, Maxim and Anastasia left the dance floor.
She led him through the tented parts of the garden, and out into the grounds, which were not covered by one of the three giant marquees erected specially for the engagement party.
It was a beautiful night, warm, balmy, gentle. The ink-black sky was sprinkled with dozens of stars and there was a hazy full moon, and the air was heavy with the scent of honeysuckle and roses and the profusion of other summer flowers which grew in great abundance here.
Maxim breathed deeply of the soft air, and murmured, ‘It’s such a beautiful evening, and you’re so beautiful, my wonderful, incredible Anastasia.’ He put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek lightly and they walked on in silence towards the old walled rose garden. Yesterday when she had smiled at him he had experienced a sudden surge of unprecedented happiness and he had understood immediately that there was, for him, something very special about her. And since setting eyes on her tonight he had felt almost lightheaded. She was a most wondrous girl and his euphoria knew no bounds. He felt happier than he had since he had been a small child, and the sadness inside him, ever constant, seemed to diminish a little when he was near her.
They wandered through the rose garden and sat down on a rustic iron seat. With one hand, Maxim turned her face to his and looked deeply into her eyes, then found her soft lips with his mouth, kissed her ardently. She responded with equal fervour, and their mutual excitement mounted as their kissing grew more passionate, and they were entranced, lost to the world in each other’s arms.
Anastasia was trembling inside, and swamped by fierce and overpowering feelings. She wanted to be with Maxim always, never to leave him again, and inexperienced though she was, she knew in the innermost part of herself that he was the right man for her. The only man she wanted. The only man she would ever want. She had understood this last night.
Maxim broke away from her gently and brought her head onto his shoulder, and, as if he had read her thoughts of a second ago, he asked softly, ‘What made you say earlier that we were each other’s destiny?’