‘About twenty. I want to walk to Sutton Place. See you, babe.’
***
Blair Martin dropped the receiver back in the cradle and spun around. Her eyes took in every detail of the living room which overlooked the garden, the East River, and a portion of the 59th Street Bridge.
She nodded to herself, both relieved and pleased that the room looked perfect. Maxim was such a stickler for neatness, but everything was in its given place; she had no cause to worry. A tranquil haven of soft pastel colours and fine French furniture, it looked particularly lovely tonight, filled with the flowers he now sent her several times a week since they had become lovers. All of the silk-shaded lamps had been turned on, a fire burned brightly in the grate, and there was a warmth and a mellowness to the setting.
Blair walked across the Aubusson carpet, turned to look back before leaving the sitting room, thinking how lucky she was to live in this house. Maxim had bought it for his daughter, Alix, two years ago, as a peace offering after their quarrel in 1985, in the hopes of patching things up with her. Anastasia and Maxim had then decorated the house together; they both had superb taste and that was why the house on Sutton Place was so beautifully appointed throughout.
But Alix had spurned the house, had refused to accept it. Silly girl, Blair thought, shaking her head, as always somewhat mystified by the foolishness and impracticality of others. She was very much a pragmatist herself.
A housekeeper had looked after the house for a while, but had eventually left, finding the existence too lonely, Maxim had explained. He had suggested she move in about ten months ago, not long after they had started their love affair. He had pointed out that quite aside from needing someone to occupy it for security reasons, he preferred her to live in a private house where he could come and go freely and with impunity. The prying eyes of apartment building doormen alarmed him. ‘It’s much more discreet, better for me, if you live at my Sutton Place house,’ he had pointed out. When she had seen the house she had accepted at once. The building where she lived was going co-op and she could not afford to buy her apartment. In fact, she had been in a dilemma about where she would live.
And so the arrangement was perfect for them both.
As she ran upstairs Blair thought of Maxim. She was crazy about him and he was mad about her. Odd that she had known him off and on since 1982, had frequently dated him, but that he had only become involved with her after his marriage to Adriana Macklin. Gorgeous woman, so beautiful, the epitome of glamour. But a bitch on wheels, horrendous, really, and abrasive, with a tendency towards flashiness at times. Blair could not stand women who had diamonds dripping from every pore.
Blair went into the bedroom, stripped off her trousers and silk shirt, raced into the bathroom. After spraying herself with perfume, she brushed her short reddish-blonde curls into a halo around her heart-shaped face, refreshed her pink lipstick, and smeared a little pale grey eyeshadow on her eyelids. This colour always made her blue eyes look bluer. Once she had touched up her blonde lashes with mascara, she returned to the bedroom.
Opening the armoire, she took out a pale-green silk pyjama suit by Trigere, slipped into the wide floating trousers, put on the long jacket, tied the broad sash, and stepped into a pair of matching silk shoes.
After a quick glance at herself in the mirror, she closed the armoire door and headed out of the bedroom, intent on going down to the kitchen. There was plenty of champagne on ice, and she had bought fresh salad and vegetables earlier that day. She was a good cook; he loved her spaghetti primavera. That’s what she would make, and they could finish the meal with cheese and fruit. Maxim was a simple eater, not faddy about food, which made life easier for her, since she was a working girl, ran her own small public relations firm.
Halfway down the stairs, Blair remembered her birth control pills. The last thing she wanted was to get pregnant. Swinging around, she sped up the stairs and into the bedroom. Jerking open the drawer of the bedside table, she took out the pills, dropped one into her hand. It was halfway to her mouth when she stopped, stared down at Maxim’s photograph on the table, a reflective look crossing her face. Why don’t I want to get pregnant? she asked herself, frowning slightly. I’m already almost thirty. I ought to get pregnant, in fact. And there was no good reason why she should not. In fact, she would like to have a baby. She’d also like a husband. Maxim West to be precise. She was beginning to get tired of being his lover, or to use a more old-fashioned word, his mistress.
Taking very determined steps, Blair Martin went down to the kitchen and emptied the birth control pills into the waste-disposal unit. She went back into the bedroom, walked over to the bedside table and closed the drawer.
For a very long moment she stared at Maxim’s photograph in its silver frame, one she had taken here in the garden last summer. Then she brought three fingers into the palm of her hand, and pressed her thumb and forefinger together to form the shape of a gun.
Smiling to herself, she aimed her thumb and forefinger at his photograph.
‘I gotcha, Maxim. Gotcha, gotcha, gotcha.’
PART 7
MAXIMILIAN
LONDON—BERLIN
1989
A man of many lives. A man who had his own centre, something untouchable about him, something he did not know about himself…
Rich: The Life of Richard Burton by Melvyn Bragg
FIFTY-SEVEN
‘I’m so glad you were free, Daddy,’ Alix said, smiling at Maxim.
‘So am I.’ He smiled back, patted her hand, then reached for one of the menus Joseph had just placed on the table. The two of them sat together on a banquette in Mark’s Club, where he had brought her for lunch after she had shown up at his office in Grosvenor Square a short while before. ‘Now, Alix, do you know what you want?’
‘Nothing first, thank you. Then I’ll have the liver and bacon, please.’
‘I’ll join you.’ Maxim motioned to Joseph, ordered, and then turned to face his daughter. ‘Well, I must say, it’s either a feast or a famine with you, Schatzi,’ he remarked, reverting to his pet name for her from childhood.
‘What do you mean?’ Alix asked, staring at him in puzzlement.
‘For four years you kept me at arm’s length and behaved as if I was Attila the Hun. Now I don’t seem able to get rid of you. Wherever I am, there you are, popping up all over the globe. Just think, on Monday you were in New York, as was I, and now, on Wednesday, here you are in London. I’m beginning to think you’re following me, Alix.’
She drew away from him slightly, gave him a sharp look through narrowed pale green eyes. ‘Am I being a nuisance? Is that what you’re implying?’
‘Of course not,’ he laughed. ‘And don’t look so worried. I’m only teasing. You ought to know by now that I love all the attention you’ve been giving me for the past six months or so. You’re spoiling me. I shall miss it, you know, when you up and marry and leave me to my own devices.’
She also laughed. ‘I’m not likely to do that. There are no men on my horizon at the moment.’
‘What’s happened? Has the entire male population gone blind?’
Alix shook her head. ‘I just haven’t met the right man, Daddy.’
‘He’ll come along, Alix, and when you least expect it. That’s the way it usually happens.’
‘Talking of men. I’ve never admitted this to you before, but you were right about Jeremy Vickers, he was after my money. Of course, I didn’t see that. Remember, I was only twenty-three at the time.’
‘He was also after you, darling girl. You’re a pretty tempting package. Young, beautiful, intelligent, and rich. I wouldn’t blame any man for going after you. The problem was, Vickers is the worst kind of playboy, and a gambler, to boot. A son of a bitch in general. It was his foul reputation that bothered me… his reputation for being a rough customer, violent. I couldn’t bear that you were entangled with such… rubbish.’
‘He never laid a finger on me, Daddy. You and Michael would
have been the first to know about it if he had ever hurt me. Anyway, I’m glad you were so tough about him with me, that you really played the heavy father. Looking back, I realise I wasn’t too crazy about your attitude four years ago, but I am now, and I have been for ages. Thanks, Dad.’
Maxim squeezed her hand. ‘I always trusted you, Alix, knew that ultimately you wouldn’t do anything silly or rash, behave in a foolish way. But I did have to let you know what my feelings were, tell you how much I disapproved of that man, even at the risk of antagonising you.’
‘I know, and your approval has always been important to me. I wouldn’t have married Jeremy over your objections. And, actually, I wouldn’t marry anyone today if you didn’t approve, even though I am now twenty-eight.’
‘Sssh! You’re making me feel old,’ Maxim said.
‘Oh come on! You old! Never.’
‘Have you forgotten I was fifty-five this past June?’
‘You don’t look it! In fact, you look terrific. Tall, dark, handsome, tanned, and raring to go. That’s my old dad,’ she teased, laughing.
He laughed with her, took hold of her hand, kissed her fingertips. ‘You do your old dad’s heart good, you really do.’
Alix leaned towards him, kissed his cheek lightly, whispered in his ear, ‘Those two men over there are really intrigued by us. I actually believe they think I’m your mistress.’
‘I’m flattered they would think an old geezer like me is deserving of a stunning beautiful blonde such as you, Daughter. However, I’d prefer it if you didn’t mention the word mistress. I’m afraid I break out in a rash when I hear it these days.’
‘Oh, sorry, Daddy.’ Alix eyed him carefully, ventured in a low, cautious voice, ‘If I’m prying you can tell me to shut up, but out of curiosity, what is happening with Blair Martin?’
‘Nothing much.’
‘I meant how is she? What’s her attitude to you?’
‘Hostile. Naturally. She wants me to divorce Adriana and marry her. Obviously she wants the baby to have my name, and she’s very much playing the injured party, the damaged woman, insists that I do the right thing by her.’
‘Injured woman! What cheek! Honestly, Dad, nobody has to get pregnant in this day and age. Not if they don’t want to… take my word for it.’
Maxim returned his daughter’s loving gaze steadily, and nodded his head slowly. ‘I realise that, Alix. I’m not stupid. And Blair and I had an understanding right from the beginning of the relationship. At least, so I thought. She promised to take precautions. Certainly she knew my feelings about that subject very well. When she told me in the summer of 1987, after I returned to New York from London, that she was pregnant, I was dreadfully upset, I even chastised her about it.’
‘How did she explain her pregnancy, if she was supposed to be looking after the situation?’
‘Her answer was that it took two to tango.’
An angry glint entered Alix’s luminous misty-green eyes. ‘But it doesn’t take two to swallow birth control pills! Or use some other method of protection. I think Blair set you up, Daddy, I really do.’
Set me up, Maxim thought. A strange look glanced across his face, and his eyes suddenly held a faraway expression as he stared into the distance, for a split second lost to Alix.
‘What’s the matter? Is something wrong?’ she asked.
‘No.’ Maxim smiled faintly. ‘I thought of Camilla all of a sudden, just then in fact. She once accused me of setting her up. In a different way than we were discussing, obviously.’
‘Did you?’
‘Oh yes, very much so. But I had my reasons.’
‘And Blair Martin set you up, and she had her reasons.’
‘I believe you’re quite correct, Alix… I can’t begin to tell you how many times I’ve asked myself lately why I got involved with her… I think perhaps because she reminded me of Camilla. Blair does have the same colouring, is a similar type, isn’t she?’
‘But she’s not half as nice as Camilla was! Camilla was a lovely person.’
‘How terribly tragic that she died. For all of us,’ he murmured, thinking out loud, sorrow touching his face fleetingly.
‘Thank God you didn’t die, Daddy. As long as I live, I’ll never forget the way I felt when you were lying in Mount Sinai, at death’s door after you were shot. I was in agony. I realised how stupid I’d been over the Jeremy Vickers situation, understood that you’d only ever had my welfare at heart. All I wanted was for you to get better so I could make it up to you.’
‘And you have, darling girl.’
She smiled at him, leaned closer. ‘Thank goodness. And you look fabulous. This summer on the yacht did you a lot of good, didn’t it?’ Alix said.
‘I think it truly turned me around,’ Maxim replied, nodding. ‘I felt very weak after I got out of the hospital in February, even though I didn’t say anything to you and your mother, or Teddy. But I’m from strong stock, and I bounce back very quickly. I’m as good as new now. Never felt better, in fact. Ah, here’s our lunch, Alix. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.’
***
After lunch Alix walked with Maxim back to the West International offices in Grosvenor Square. She tucked her arm through his, and shrugged deeper into her thick tweed coat, muttered, ‘Gosh, it’s cold for October, I hope we’re not going to have a bad winter.’
He glanced down at her. ‘You sound as if you’re planning to stay here in London. I thought Manhattan was now your home. All those rich clients you tell me you have, anxious to give you barrels of cash for art objects and paintings, and old French furniture.’
Alix groaned, shook her head. ‘Not any more. Well, I do have my regular clients, the top-drawer interior designers, the old-money, of course. But a lot of my others, the nouveaus, fell by the wayside, what with the Wall Street crash in October of 1987, and some of the other Wall Street economic problems. Yuppies aren’t such ready spenders any more.’
‘I shouldn’t think they are.’
‘And what about you, Dad? Are you going to be in London for the next few months?’
‘It’s more than likely. I might make a couple of quick trips to New York, but I won’t be staying long. Actually, I’m planning to spend Christmas in London. Care to join me, Schatzi?’
‘I’d love to, Daddy!’
‘It’s a deal,’ he said, beaming at her, drawing to a standstill in front of his office building.
Alix smiled at him in return, her face radiant. She reached up, kissed him on the cheek, gave him a bear hug. ‘I love you, Daddy of mine.’
‘And I love you, too, Daughter.’
***
‘Good afternoon, Sir Maximilian,’ the uniformed doorman said, holding the door open for him as Maxim hurried forward after saying goodbye to Alix.
‘Afternoon, Jim. Everything all right with you? With the family?’
‘Very good, thank you kindly, Sir Maximilian.’
Maxim nodded, rushed on, heading for the bank of elevators. He got in, rode up to his executive suite on the eleventh floor.
His secretary, Faye Miller, looked up as he came barrelling through the door, and exclaimed, ‘Oh, Sir Maxim! You’ve just missed Graeme Longdon. Shall I get her back?’
‘Not now, Faye, thanks,’ Maxim said. ‘New York can wait a while… until later in the day.’ He strode towards his inner sanctum, stopped, and asked, ‘It wasn’t anything urgent, was it? Did she say what it was about?’
Faye shook her head. ‘No, only that you could return the call any time, that it was nothing vital.’
‘Fine.’ Maxim went inside, closed the door, took off his black trenchcoat, hung it in the coat closet.
Once he was seated behind his desk, he glanced at two folders on his blotter, then picked up the phone and dialled his son’s extension.
‘Michael West here.’
‘It’s me, Michael.’
‘Yes, Dad?’
‘Can you please come to my office for a moment?’
>
‘I’ll be right there.’
Within minutes his twenty-seven-year-old son was walking into the room, his face as serious as always, his dark and brilliant eyes as compelling as Maxim’s. He gets to look more like me every day, Maxim thought, studying Michael closely as he strode across the room, lowered himself into the chair near the desk.
Michael crossed his long legs, settled back in the chair and gave his father a direct look. ‘What did you want to see me about?’
‘These,’ Maxim said, lifting the folders, showing them to Michael, then placing them on the desk again.
A dark brow lifted, a gesture unconsciously copied from his father, and Michael stared hard at Maxim. ‘What are they?’
‘Never mind, for the moment. We’ll get to them later. First I want to talk to you about something else.’
‘All right, Dad.’
‘For the last few years you’ve been angry with me, disgruntled, hostile—’
‘Dad, how can you say that!’ Michael interrupted, his voice rising slightly, his eyes flashing.
‘I can say it because it’s true,’ Maxim shot back, leaning forward, fixing his steady, unblinking gaze on his son. ‘In fact, things were pretty damned difficult between us, even though we both kept up some sort of pretence of cordiality. Until I was shot earlier this year. And when I almost died your attitude changed towards me. Some of your anger seemed to fall away, at least to dissipate. True or not?’
Michael was silent for a moment.
The two men stared hard at each other.
Michael finally said, ‘Yes, it’s true.’
‘But there is still hostility in you, Michael… hostility towards me. And that’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about, discuss with you now.’
‘I’m not hostile, Dad!’ Michael protested. ‘My God, I was heartbroken when you were lying there in New York unconscious, when we didn’t know whether you’d live or die. I was so desperately worried about you I couldn’t see straight!’
There was a short pause. Michael cleared his throat, said in a low voice, ‘I love you, Dad.’