Oh why couldn’t he have been just an ordinary man? Why did he have to be a business genius, this brilliant tycoon of vision and daring? A great sigh slid out of Anastasia and slowly the tears trickled down her cheeks. She wanted their marriage to be the way it had been in the beginning. She wanted all of him. But that was not possible, because Maxim could not give all of himself to her.
She thought: I can’t go on like this. I have to do something. I can’t stand the pain of loving him.
Remembering her guests, she pulled herself together as best she could. Throwing the towel on the washbasin, she reached for a tissue and patted her eyes before hurrying through into their stateroom.
Seating herself at the dressing table, she applied fresh eye makeup and lipstick, sprayed herself with perfume, pushed a curl into place. Rising, she took a deep breath, managed to summon all of her dignity, and returned to the dance and her guests.
***
‘Congratulations, Peachy,’ Maxim said a few hours later. He took off his cream dinner jacket and draped it around the back of a chair.
Anastasia stood at the other side of the stateroom. Slowly she turned around, stood staring at him. She loved him so much, wanted him so much. But it was not to be. She was losing him. Just as she had known when they first met fifteen years ago that it was their destiny to be together, so she now knew that it was their destiny to part. Que sera sera… what will be will be.
She had not been able to stand those women pawing him throughout the evening, clutching at him, flinging themselves at him, draping themselves all over him, kissing him flagrantly when they left at the end of the evening. She hated each and every one of them.
Nausea rose up in her. She thought her legs were going to buckle.
Maxim undid his bow tie, dropped it on the chest, opened the top button of his shirt, continued to look at her. He smiled his charming lopsided smile. ‘The party was a spectacular success, the yacht is superb, and the diamond necklace looks gorgeous,’ he said, and smiled at her again.
She felt something cracking and splintering inside her, and she reached out, held onto the back of a chair. ‘That’s all I am to you these days, isn’t it? The giver of your parties, the decorator of your homes, the wearer of your diamonds,’ she exclaimed coldly.
Maxim was flabbergasted.
He could only gaze at her blankly, startled by her extraordinary words, her curious icy voice. Recovering himself quickly, he said, ‘You are also the recipient of my love, Stassy.’
‘Recipient of your love! That’s a joke. Me and how many others?’
‘What on earth do you mean?’ he demanded, his tone instantly changing. He gave her a sharp look, annoyance replacing bafflement.
‘Oh come on, don’t play the injured innocent with me. I know you have affairs with other women.’
‘I certainly do not!’ he exploded, infuriated by her unjustified accusation.
‘You don’t expect me to believe that a passionate, very physical man like you doesn’t become involved in little liaisons, when he’s away from home, do you? I know you very well, Maxim, and sex has always been extremely important to you. Very necessary, I would say.’
‘If you can accuse me of philandering, then you don’t know me at all!’ he shouted back, his voice rising to a higher pitch. ‘There are no other women in my life, and there never have been. I have always been true to you!’
‘And what about Camilla Galland, God’s greatest gift to the English stage?’ she shot back, her voice acerbic.
‘Camilla Galland,’ he spluttered and laughed disbelievingly. ‘What an outrageous suggestion. You can’t mean that seriously.’
‘I most certainly do. Quite aside from the fact that I’ve seen you with her over the years, others have spotted the two of you together.’
‘You’ve seen me with her,’ he gasped. ‘When?’
‘In point of fact, this spring, going into the Ritz. And several years ago, going into Claridge’s. You seem to have quite a few luncheons with that lady. Not to mention dinners in New York. You’ve been seen, you know, so don’t deny it.’
‘I wasn’t going to deny it, Anastasia. Why should I? Camilla and I are friends, have been for years. It’s no secret. I have had lunch with her in London, and I sometimes speak to her on the phone, as you well know. And I have had dinner with her in New York, yes, when she’s been in a play on Broadway. I’ve been giving her advice about her investments off and on over the years. And incidentally, as far as the dinners in New York are concerned, her husband has always joined us. In case it’s slipped your mind, Camilla married Peter Jarvis five years ago. She’s still very married to him.’
‘Husbands are generally the last to know about extramarital affairs! As indeed are wives. Don’t think you can pull the wool over my eyes by flinging her marriage at me, because you can’t.’
Maxim was more furious than ever, took a step towards her, cried, ‘Ask Stubby. Go down the corridor to his cabin now, and ask him, goddamn it! He’ll tell you I’ve been advising her on her investments. He was the one who suggested it in the first place.’
‘Ask Stubby!’ she exclaimed, her icy voice dripping sarcasm. ‘Well, well, well, that’s the joke of the century. Ask Stubby indeed. How preposterous you are, Maxim. Stubby will say anything to protect you. He’d sell his own mother to protect you. Why, Stubby thinks you’re God.’
‘What is all this about?’ Maxim demanded frantically, truly not understanding why she was ranting and raving at him. His face had turned grey under his tan, and anger had brought goose flesh springing to his face. ‘What’s brought this on, Anastasia, after our lovely few days together? And the wonderful party tonight?’
‘The party may have been wonderful for you, but not for me. I was left alone to fend for myself, whilst you paid court to Chedlya and every other woman present.’
‘You’re being utterly stupid. I danced with Chedlya once. And I was the host, remember. I had to dance with our women guests.’
Anastasia’s face suddenly contorted, twisted into an ugly grimace, momentarily obscuring her great beauty.
He sucked in his breath, hardly recognising her. She might have donned a mask.
She cried, ‘Things are not right between us any more, Maxim! You’re always away. You don’t share your life with me. You shut me out years ago.’ As her pent-up rage flooded her she began to shake uncontrollably, clung to the back of the chair to support herself.
‘I have never shut you out!’ he protested, his face livid. ‘You’re not interested in my business, that’s why I don’t discuss it with you. It bores you. It always has. I do my level best to be with you as much as I can. You don’t want to travel with me, because you say you can’t take the pace, that it exhausts you. What in God’s name do you want from me?’
She did not answer.
‘You know I love you, Stassy,’ he said, softening his voice and his manner, moving closer to her. ‘I’ve only ever loved you. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted. I try to show you how I feel in every way. You yearned for a yacht over the years, so I had one built for you. I called her Beautiful Dreamer, because that’s what you’ve always been to me… my beautiful dreamer,’ he murmured placatingly, his smile loving.
‘I don’t want your yacht!’ she screamed. ‘I don’t want your diamonds!’ Losing control, she pulled at the clasp, wrenched the necklace off and threw it on the bed. ‘I don’t want it, do you hear!’
Maxim flinched, drew back, gasping at her words.
He felt as if she had kicked him in the stomach, and a terrible coldness swept through him. He genuinely had no idea what this row was about, what had triggered it. All he knew, at this moment, was that he had to get out into the fresh air. He felt the bile rising in his throat, thought he was going to be sick.
Without uttering another word he pivoted and walked out, slamming the door behind him.
‘I only want you, Maxim! That’s what I meant! I only want you! Material things don’t matter to m
e!’ she shouted after him, staring at the door. But he did not come back. She threw herself onto the bed and began to sob, repeating over and over again, ‘I only want you, my darling, I only want you.’
Maxim did not hear her words.
FORTY-NINE
Maxim walked down the main deck. It was empty. Everyone had gone to bed. He stepped over to the rail and leaned against it, stood looking out across the dark sea to the dim horizon, taking great gulps of air, endeavouring to still his shaking limbs. He felt unsteady, sickened by her words.
Anastasia had hurt him so much he could hardly stand it. The accusations she had levelled at him were so ridiculous they were laughable. But he could deal with those. What had cut him deeply, like a lash, caused him pain, was the way she had flung the necklace on the bed, screaming that she did not want it.
The diamond necklace was quite extraordinary and it had cost a small fortune. This did not matter to him. What did matter enormously was the love he had invested in its creation. He had gone to Mark and asked him to make something truly unique for her, and Mark’s most gifted designer at Tannen and Graf had created an exquisite design. Then Mark had spent over a year searching the world for flawless blue-white stones. Maxim had wanted the diamonds and the necklace to be perfect for Anastasia, because he loved her so much, and Mark had understood this, had set out to create a masterpiece.
During the entire time the necklace was being made, he had gone to Mark’s prestigious jewellery shop in Regent Street whenever he could, wanting to watch the craftsman working, mounting the stones in the intricate lacy web of white gold. He had hardly been able to contain himself until it was finished, until he could finally present it to Anastasia, see it enhancing her beauty.
He had given it to her after they had boarded the yacht for the first time the other day, and sailed up the coast to Saint Tropez. It had looked stunning on her and she had been thrilled, or so he thought. But only a few minutes ago she had flung it back at him. He realised this did not mean much. Her gesture had been one of anger, anger with him, he recognised this. What he did not understand was the reason why she was so furious with him, what was at the bottom of it.
Sighing under his breath, Maxim walked over to the bar and poured himself a glass of water, carried it back to the rail where he stood drinking it, trying to sort out his troubled thoughts. Aside from her anger, there had been her outrageous and unfounded accusations to contend with. He could not imagine what had brought on her strange outburst, or prompted her to make the statements she had.
They had had their quarrels in the past, like most married couples, but none of them had ever been quite like this one. He had never seen her so hysterical, so… so… irrational. Her behaviour had been very much out of character. She was normally composed, tranquil, a poised young woman.
She’s over-tired, he thought, worn out after all of the work she has done on the yacht in the past year. It has been a backbreaking task, even with her mother’s help. What Anastasia needs now is complete rest, relaxation, me, and my companionship and love. Yes, she needs me to be with her, to take care of her. She’s really quite fragile, my beautiful dreamer.
Maxim was suddenly glad he had planned a cruise to the Greek Islands as a surprise for her. They would be leaving in a few days and would be sailing around the Aegean for about three weeks. It would do them both good, and with a little luck maybe it would be as idyllic a holiday as the one they had had four years ago. That summer at the villa had been so sublime, it had stuck in his mind ever since.
Once the cruise was over he would attempt to structure his life differently, in order for them to spend more time together. He had been planning to do that anyway,—he truly wanted to make her happy if he could.
It was a warm night, and Maxim stayed out on the main deck for several hours, endeavouring to sort things out clearly in his head, to make plans for their future.
When he finally returned to their stateroom Anastasia was sound asleep.
He was relieved that she was, for he had not relished another quarrel with her. He crept into his dressing room quietly, took off his clothes and prepared for bed, reassuring himself that tomorrow, after a good night’s rest, his wife would be her normal self.
And over breakfast he would tell her about the cruise to the Greek Islands. He knew how much this would please her, and he was looking forward to it himself.
***
‘Daddy! Daddy! Wake up! Wake up!’ Alix cried, pummelling his arm.
Maxim sat up in bed at once with a start, and stared at his daughter who stood with her brother at the side of the bed.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, their agitation registering with him immediately. ‘What is it?’
‘Mummy just left. She’s going to Nice airport,’ Michael announced, swung his head and pointed to the porthole. ‘She’s taking off now in the ‘copter, Dad.’
As Michael spoke, Maxim heard the roar of the helicopter’s blades as it hovered for a moment above the yacht. Throwing back the sheets, he jumped out of bed and raced across the room, peered out of the porthole. To his dismay he saw his helicopter whirling up and away into the sunny blue morning sky.
‘She’s going back to London, Daddy,’ Alix informed him, running to Maxim, catching hold of his arm. ‘She was crying this morning,’ Alix went on unsteadily, gulping, her eyes filling up. ‘You’re not going to get a divorce are you, Daddy? Michael and I don’t want you and Mummy to get a divorce!’
Maxim was thunderstruck, exclaimed, ‘Of course we’re not getting divorced! Don’t be so silly, Schatzi.’ He bent down, hugged her, then beckoned to Michael. His twelve-year-old son came running into his arms, and the three of them stood holding each other. He adored his children, and it tore at him that they were upset and disturbed by Anastasia’s actions, her sudden dramatic departure.
Finally he straightened, released his children from his tight embrace, and said, ‘Everything’s going to be all right. I don’t want either of you to worry about anything. Understand?’
‘Yes,’ Alix said. ‘But why has Mummy left?’
‘I honestly don’t know,’ Maxim answered truthfully. ‘Now scoot, the two of you, and let me take a shower, shave, and get dressed.’
Michael said, ‘What are you going to do, Dad?’
‘I’m going to fetch Mummy back. I love her very much. Therefore that is what I must do.’
‘For God’s sake, let me drive, Duke,’ Stubby exclaimed. ‘You’re going to have Margot’s Roller and us in the drink if you’re not careful. Slow down!’
Maxim eased his foot off the accelerator of his mother-in-law’s new Rolls-Royce, which he had borrowed, and dropped down to a lower speed. ‘You’re right, Stubby. I don’t know why I’m racing like this. By the time we get to Nice airport, the plane Anastasia’s booked on will have taken off anyway. If Margot hasn’t been able to charter one for me, I’ll have to wait for the next commercial flight.’
‘I’m certain Margot will have managed to get hold of a private plane for you by the time we get to the airport, even though it’s Sunday;’ Stubby said reassuringly. ‘But in any case, when you get to London, Anastasia will have calmed down, take my word for it. You know what women are. Skittish, like thoroughbred horses.’
‘I hope she’s more like herself,’ Maxim mumbled. ‘God only knows what brought this on. I still haven’t the slightest idea what the row was about. I’m truly puzzled.’
‘She was pushing hard to get the yacht finished for your birthday in June, and even though she didn’t succeed, and was late, she worked damned hard. Maybe the pressure and the stress got to her,’ Stubby suggested. ‘She’s probably exhausted, you know.’
‘That’s what I’ve been thinking myself.’ Maxim tightened his grip on the steering wheel, then confided, ‘Stassy accused me of having an affair with Camilla Galland, of all things.’
There was a small silence, then Stubby said, ‘You haven’t, have you?’
‘Oh come on, Stubby, don
’t be such a bloody fool! Of course I haven’t. You ought to know that better than anybody.’
‘What I do know is that Camilla has had quite a thing about you for years. To put it succinctly, she’s had the hots for you, two husbands notwithstanding.’
Maxim threw him a quick glance out of the corner of his eye, snorted in disbelief. ‘That’s a load of codswallop if I’ve ever heard anything!’
‘Take my word for it, lad. Give her a wink and she’s yours.’
‘You’re wrong, very wrong. In any event, I’m certainly not interested in Camilla, and I never have been.’
Stubby was quiet. After a moment’s thought, he ventured, ‘You don’t think Anastasia’s heard gossip about you, do you?’
‘Gossip? What the hell do you mean?’
‘You know, gossip about you and other women.’
‘What other women?’
‘The ones you’ve had affairs with.’
‘I’ve only ever had a couple of one-night stands in my entire married life,’ Maxim snapped. ‘That’s hardly having affairs, as you put it!’
‘Sally Batterson lasted more than one night, Duke. I remember her very well, since I was in New York with you at the time.’
‘It lasted a big three weeks! It was a prolonged one-night stand, that’s all. The whole thing was meaningless. And you, Stubby, my friend, are the only person who ever knew about it.’
‘Except for the lady involved.’
Maxim threw him a swift, scathing glance, said nothing.
‘Sally knew,’ Stubby pointed out.
‘She’s hardly likely to have told anybody.’
‘How do you know? Some women like to boast… about the notches on their belts. And let’s face it, you’re worth boasting about.’