‘Please believe me, Sally never told a soul about our brief dalliance, such as it was. She was engaged to be married at the time, although I didn’t know until a few months later. When I received an invitation to the wedding.’
Stubby laughed cynically. ‘Cold-blooded creatures women are at times, don’t you think?’
Maxim concentrated on the traffic ahead, braking as they came to a bend in the Lower Corniche, the road running parallel with the sea. Once they had a clear stretch of road ahead of them again, he pushed Margot’s Rolls forward, anxious to get to the airport. ‘No, Anastasia can’t possibly have heard any gossip about me, for the simple reason there is none,’ Maxim remarked, after a moment. ‘I’ve led a blameless life for a very long time. In fact, I’ve always led a blameless life, if you really think about it.’ He laughed hollowly. ‘I realise there are those who would like to make me out to be a playboy, a cross between Porfirio Rubirosa and Aly Khan, but nothing could be further from the truth.’
‘God rest their souls,’ Stubby murmured. ‘They both died young, but oh what lives they lived!’ He sighed, then after a pause, went on, ‘I know you’re not a womaniser, you don’t have to sell me on your fidelity to Anastasia. I’ve been a witness to it, and you’ve been nothing if not a devoted husband and father. Hell, I’m sorry I ever asked you to help Camilla sort out her investments. But that twit of a husband was only creating a bigger muddle than she already had.’ Stubby frowned. ‘By the way, what prompted Anastasia to seize on poor old innocent Camiknickers?’
‘She apparently saw me going into the Ritz with Camilla this past spring. We were meeting her accountant there for lunch. Also, I gather some friendly friend told Stassy that they’d seen me dining with Camilla in New York.’ Maxim shook his head, grimaced. ‘Whoever that troublemaker was forgot to mention Camilla’s husband was with us.’
Stubby groaned. ‘Just goes to show how careful you’ve got to be when you’re a married man. Thank God I’m a bachelor. And that’s the way it’s going to remain. Actually, I enjoy being the eternal fiance.’
Maxim laughed. ‘If anybody’s the playboy, it’s you! I’ll never understand why they’ve always wanted to pin the label on me.’
‘You look the part more than I,’ Stubby pointed out, grinning. ‘Dashing, gorgeous, glamorous etcetera. Most people think of me as your bumbling sidekick.’
‘Good God, if only they knew! Fast women, fast cars, fast boats, fast roulette wheels. But just watch your step, old son, as far as the fast cars and boats are concerned. I don’t want to lose you.’
‘Listen who’s talking! You’re the one who always has his foot down on the pedal. But never fear, I plan to be around a long time.’ Stubby settled back in the seat and a thoughtful expression entered his pale-blue eyes.
Maxim drove on in silence for a while.
Suddenly Stubby said, ‘She’s always been possessive of you.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘And a bit jealous. I have a deep affection for Anastasia, she is the most wonderful girl, but she gets upset if you even so much as look at another woman.’
Maxim glanced at Stubby, swung his eyes back to the road. His brows came together in a puzzled frown. ‘Do you really think so?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘But surely she knows how much I love her. I’ve always adored her.’
‘I know, but women can be funny.’ Stubby hesitated, then said, ‘There’s another thing. She hates you to be away from her… this may sound odd to you, but I think she resents your business, resents the time you devote to it.’
Maxim was startled, exclaimed heatedly, ‘But I can’t just stop! I’ve built an enormous empire in the last few years. I have a responsibility to thousands of people—employees, major stockholders, and the public, not to mention myself. I happen to enjoy my work.’
‘I’m sure she’s aware of that,’ Stubby said quickly. ‘And I’m not saying she wants you to get rid of your business empire. She’s far too intelligent a person to expect you to do such a thing. What I’m trying to say is… Well, you do spend a lot of time away from her. What woman wouldn’t get fidgety?’
Maxim nodded. ‘Point well made, Stubby. I must agree. I’m going to have to organise my work schedule a little better.’
He sighed so heavily and looked so worried that Stubby exclaimed, ‘Hey come on, Duke, everything’s going to be fine. You’ll see, when you get home to London, Anastasia will be calmer. This is a storm in a teacup. I’m sure I’ll be driving the Roller back to Nice tomorrow, or the day after, to pick you both up.’
‘I hope so, I can’t stand it when things are not right between me and my girl.’
***
They patched things up and sailed around the Aegean, and for a while the marriage worked. But within the year it was in trouble again. And for all the same reasons. Inevitably, Anastasia became nervous and run down, her fragile psyche shattered by innumerable problems, some real, some imagined. Without meaning to do so, she created a rift between them, and, unthinkingly, she never gave Maxim a chance to bridge it. In 1976, unable to take the stress and pressure of his life, she insisted on a trial separation. At first he fought it, but finally had to agree. Loving her the way he did, he was afraid of endangering her health.
When Anastasia divorced him in 1977 Maxim was stunned and heartbroken, their children hurt and baffled, their families and friends shocked and saddened.
PART 5
CAMILLA
TANGIER
1981
Wherefore the king said unto me, Why is thy countenance sad, seeing thou art not sick? This is nothing else but sorrow of the heart.
Book of Nehemiah: The Bible
FIFTY
Camilla Galland sat waiting for David Maines in the cool, marble-lined bar of the El Minzah Hotel in Tangier where she was staying.
It was that quiet time of day when the bustle in the streets outside had subsided. The sun was dropping low in the sky, mottling the dark-blue sea with speckles of gold and mauve, and she knew that in a moment night would swiftly descend.
Camilla had always liked this particular hour in North Africa, when it was neither day nor night. The gloaming it was called in Scotland, where she originally came from. It was a gentle time.
The silence in the bar was broken only by the muffled whirring of the ceiling fans, the faint plaintive voice of the muezzin calling the faithful to prayer from the minaret of the mosque, echoing to her across the casbah walls.
In the splintered half light of the bar she saw David walking towards her, tall, thin, deeply tanned from years of living here. Coming to a standstill at the table he reached out, took both of her hands in his and drew her to her feet, hugging her to him. ‘Camilla! It’s wonderful to have you here in my backyard! Welcome!’
‘It’s lovely to see you, darling,’ she said, meaning it.
They drew apart, sat down at the table, eyed each other appraisingly, then burst out laughing. They had always enjoyed working on movies together, several of which he had written especially for her; in a sense, they shared battle scars, were like old comrades in arms.
‘I never thought I’d see you in Tangier alone,’ David said, settling back in his chair.
‘I’m divorced from Peter Jarvis, you know, and I have been for almost two years.’
‘So I read in the gossip columns. What I meant is that the last news I had of you was from Alan Trenton. He told me you were heavily involved with Maxim West. So where is the great Maxim? Off making some stupendously big deal somewhere, I’ve no doubt.’
Caught off guard, she stammered, ‘It must be a while since you heard from Stubby. Maxim and I haven’t seen each other for the last six months.’ She reached for her glass of wine to hide her confusion, gulped it down.
His quick writer’s eye took in everything. ‘Oh dear, I’ve put my foot in it, haven’t I? I’m such a clumsy fool. Do forgive me.’ He smiled at her warmly, rushed on, ‘Let me go and get us a drink, and then we can c
atch up with all the gossip. Another white wine?’
‘Yes, please.’
He strode across to the bar, and she heard him murmuring in Arabic to the barman. In the moment he was away she caught hold of herself, tried to relax in the chair. She wished she had written him a note from Paris before she had left. At least she would have been spared the embarrassment about Maxim, more importantly the painful thoughts of him. She could not help but equate him with pain these days. He had hurt her terribly.
‘Want to talk about it now? Or shall we leave it until later?’ David asked when he came back to the table and lowered himself into the chair.
‘I don’t mind.’ She shrugged her shoulders lightly, made a little moue with her mouth that had a hint of regret to it. ‘There’s nothing much to tell. I ran into Maxim in New York last September, and we became involved. For three months! Then he suddenly dropped me.’ She forced a laugh, shook her head. ‘Anyway, you know what he’s like, after all you’ve been a friend of Stubby’s and his for quite a few years. He’s always rushing off to make a big deal somewhere, that’s one of the problems.’
‘There’s no question the man’s a workaholic,’ David remarked.
‘Very much so,’ Camilla agreed. ‘Anastasia was right about him there.’
David glanced at her sharply. ‘Is that the reason they got a divorce?’
‘I don’t know. Maxim doesn’t reveal much. He’s the strong silent type. And very secretive. Actually, I found him rather enigmatic, hard to get to know, truly know. He mystifies me, he really does. Despite our nice friendship over the years, and then our closeness, our intimacy for those three months, I can honestly tell you I have no idea what that man is all about.’
David had seemed puzzled as he had listened to her, but he had asked no further questions, merely said, ‘I’m sorry you and he broke up. Maxim appeared to be so lonely after the divorce… the loneliest man in the world, to me.’
Camilla made no comment, although she tended to agree.
David said, ‘Ah, here’s Mohammed with our drinks.’
The smiling waiter placed the glasses of icy white wine in front of them, bowed and backed away.
David touched his glass to hers. ‘Down the hatch,’ he said, laughed, and winked at her.
‘Down the hatch!’ She took a sip of the wine, then volunteered, ‘Maxim is lonely, David. I worry about him, and I still care what happens to him… he has that quality.’
‘I understand.’ David leaned back in the chair, focused his keen intelligent gaze on her, and changing the subject, he asked, ‘Tell me what you’re doing in Tangier.’
‘I’m seriously thinking of buying a house here,’ Camilla said. ‘I love the climate, it’s within easy reach of Paris and London, if I have a film or a play to do, yet it’s sort of… off the beaten track.’ She laughed at David’s startled face, and added, ‘I’m like you, my darling, I crave a bit of solitude now and again.’
‘Camilla, this is wonderful news, and it’ll be great to have you here. There’s a nice little English-American community, and you’ll be welcomed with open arms. But they’ll leave you alone when you want peace and quiet. That’s the beauty of Tangier. I love the place.’
‘I’d hoped you would be able to steer me in the right direction, David, help me to find a real-estate person.’
He grinned, and exclaimed, ‘The right real-estate person. That’s very important here. And yes, I know a wonderful French woman who found my villa for me. I’ll phone her tomorrow, invite her to lunch with us. I’m presuming you’re free.’
‘As a bird. But it’s your turn now. Tell me all of your news. Do you still have that lovely girlfriend? The Moroccan girl…’
‘Chedlya El Bahi. And no, I don’t. She married several years ago. A young Moroccan painter. They live here part of the time, and in Casablanca. I’m fancy free, as they say.’ He reached for his drink, sipped it, and continued, ‘Actually, I’m enjoying not being involved, for once in my life.’
Neither spoke for a moment, then he said, ‘Incidentally, congratulations again on winning the Oscar for best actress. I did drop you a note in April, I hope you received it.’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Camilla replied, smiling, and then she began to tell him about the making of the movie for which she had won the Oscar. David ordered more drinks, and they sat talking shop and reminiscing for another hour or so, until at last David said, ‘Come on, let’s get out of here, go to dinner.’
***
They walked through the dimly-lit, mosaic-tiled lobby of the hotel and out into the main street of Tangier. It was dark. The high-flung black sky looked almost luminous, chipped with thousands of tiny stars and hung with a pale moon.
David lifted his head, touched her arm, pointed to the sky. ‘Great set-decorator we have, eh, Camilla?’
She laughed, as always enjoying him, and together they walked down to the sea road, making for his favourite restaurant at the top of one of the highest buildings in the city. ‘It’s not all that high,’ he explained. ‘Hardly a Manhattan skyscraper. But the restaurant has a huge plate-glass window, floor-to-ceiling, and you can see the whole of the town, and beyond, on a clear night. It’s as if you’ve been suspended in the sky above Tangier.’
They passed the Socco Chico and the Grand Socco, the two markets. A few Moroccans sat at one of the cafes, their heads close together as they talked, their djellabas pulled closely around them, their glasses of mint tea neglected on the table.
The dark alleys leading into the casbah looked mysterious and uninviting. Camilla shivered and drew closer to David. ‘Those streets do look sinister,’ she said, slipping her arm through his.
He laughed, patted her hand resting on his arm. ‘You’re with me, Camilla, and we’re quite safe, I assure you.’
As they reached the sea road she relaxed. The cafes facing the ocean were in full swing and busy, packed with Moroccans and Europeans. Their coloured lights threw bright rays onto the road, illuminating their way. A huddle of Berber women straggled past, their haiks wrapped around them like tight cocoons of brown fabric, their bare feet slapping the sandy road as they made their way back to the hills. A reluctant donkey followed in their wake, his back laden with a precarious mountain of unbelievable parcels.
‘It was market day today,’ David explained, as her eyes followed the weird little band of women. ‘They probably brought down vegetables and flowers. Now they’re going back with tea and cloth, and, if they’ve had a lucky day, sugar and flour.’
‘How strange that they’re not wearing veils,’ Camilla remarked, as she and David caught up with the mule train.
‘The country women never do. But they sometimes pull their haiks—their robes—around them to cover their faces. Actually, quite a few of the city-dwelling Moroccan women are emancipated now, don’t wear the veil either these days. Ah, here we are.’ He led her forward towards the building where the restaurant was located.
Camilla looked back at the Berber women. They seemed like creatures from another age, their beady black eyes darting back and forth, staring out from their wrinkled brown faces, which she thought looked like polished walnuts. Or they could be baby sparrows, she added under her breath.
David escorted her through the lobby of the apartment building. It was extremely modern, with gleaming marble floors, mirrored walls, and crystal chandeliers. They took the elevator up to the top floor, and went through glass doors into the flower-filled restaurant.
The maitre d’ greeted David cordially and showed them to a corner table and as David ordered a bottle of white wine, Camilla took in the magnificent view through the wall of glass. By turning slightly she could see the whole of Tangier: the port and the harbour, the strange, cube-like composition of the houses of the casbah, the dark hills beyond. And straight ahead in front of her, the sea and sky merging endlessly.
She caught her breath, exclaimed, ‘David, it’s fantastic!’
‘Isn’t it just. And it makes you feel like God l
ooking down.’ He smiled at her affectionately. ‘There’s Tangier for you, Camilla, at your feet.’
‘I’m so glad I came, David. I think I’m going to enjoy it here. I do hope I’ll be able to find a house. The right house.’
‘I’m sure you will. In the meantime, I have an idea. Why not move into the villa, stay with me whilst you’re here? My place is huge, and rather beautiful, even though I do say so myself.’
‘Why, how generous of you…’ Her voice trailed off, and she hesitated.
He said, ‘Go on, say yes. You’d be wonderful company for me.’
‘All right then, you’ve got a deal!’ she agreed suddenly, beaming at him.
‘Good girl! Now, let’s order dinner. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.’
‘So am I, to be honest.’
David ordered for them both. He selected a French country pate to start with, a local fish baked in paper with herbs and spices, and a selection of steamed vegetables.
They sipped the chilled Pouilly Fuisse as they waited for the food, and David filled her in with details about Tangier and the life he led there. And then during dinner he told her about the screenplay he was writing, and unexpectedly suggested she might like to star in it.
‘It’s a great part for you, Camilla,’ David said, between mouthfuls of fish. I’ll be honest, I didn’t have you in mind when I started it. I didn’t have any actress in mind. But now that you’re here, and I’m looking at beautiful you, I know how marvellous you’d be.’
‘Beautiful me and all of my forty-seven years!’
‘But the story is about an older woman, if you’ll forgive the expression,’ he explained, grinning at her, thinking how beautiful she did look tonight. She wore a pale green silk dress and emerald earrings; with her reddish-blonde hair, green eyes and pink-and-white skin she was an English rose. What a fool Maxim is to have thrown her over. Aside from her lovely looks, she is a very nice woman, and extremely bright. Some men don’t know when they’re lucky, he thought.