‘I know you do, Michael, and I love you. Look here, I’m not being critical of you, even though it may sound as if I am. I was merely leading up to something, and it’s this—I want to say that I truly understand why you’ve been angry, disgruntled and hostile in the past.’ Maxim propped his elbows on the desk, steepled his fingers, looked over the top of them at Michael.
Michael sat perfectly still in the chair, waiting for his father’s next pronouncement, wondering what was coming. He was silent. He knew better than to make the slightest sound when his father had that intense, concentrated expression in his eyes.
At last Maxim spoke again. He said, ‘You had every right to those emotions, because, in certain ways, I haven’t been fair to you over the years. For one thing, I haven’t given you enough responsibility, enough power.’ Maxim let out a heavy sigh, shook his head. ‘I’ve clutched the power to me, but without realising I was doing so. Unconsciously, if you like. Just too preoccupied with all the deals, that’s been my main problem over the years. So preoccupied with the deals I’ve neglected a lot of things I should have paid attention to. In fact, I’ve been selfish, especially to some people. However, that’s another story, we won’t go into it. I asked you in here now so that I could tell you things are about to change, Michael. As my only son, and heir to this gargantuan empire, I think it’s about time you started sharing more of the workload, the responsibility, the power.’
Michael was flabbergasted. Astonishment swept across his face. He continued to stare at his father disbelievingly.
‘Aren’t you going to say something?’ Maxim asked at last, with a brief laugh.
‘Are you serious, Dad?’ he finally gasped.
‘Do I ever say anything I don’t mean, when it comes to business?’
‘No. But Dad… I mean, gosh, Dad, thanks.’ As the facts sank in, a huge smile spread across Michael’s face. ‘This is fantastic news for me. I have been anxious to do more in the company, and I won’t let you down.’
‘I know that, Michael. And let me just add that you’re a brilliant businessman. The problem is, you’ve been operating in my shadow. Now’s the chance for you to go out there and shine.’
‘Go out where?’
‘New York. I’d like you to go to New York and run West International for me. And with me, of course.’
Michael was stunned, but managed to say, ‘Dad, this is great, wonderful.’
Maxim tapped the two folders. ‘These are the details of the two small deals I’ve been working on with Grae and Peter, plus a number of memos from me about the New York office—what to expect from certain people.’
Michael frowned. ‘But you’ll be there, won’t you?’ he asked swiftly, staring at his father.
Maxim shook his head.
‘You mean you’re throwing me in at the deep end? Alone? To sink or swim?’
‘You won’t sink, you’ll swim. You’re my son. We’re winners. I’ve no worries about you. And don’t look so troubled, it’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?’
‘But Dad—’
Maxim held up his hand. ‘That’s it, Michael. I’ve made the decision. You’ve always wanted the power. And the New York office. Take them both. Grae and Peter will back you all the way. You can trust them, they won’t steer you in the wrong direction. In any case, I’ll be at the end of a phone.’
‘But where?’ Michael asked, frowning. ‘Where will you be?’
‘Here in London. Or on the yacht. Perhaps even in New York, sitting two doors away from you in my office. The point is, I want you to run the American end of West International from now on. Will you do it?’
‘Yes, of course I will, Dad. I was only momentarily startled. You seem to be giving up so much all of a sudden, and so unexpectedly.’ There was a moment of hesitation on Michael’s part, and then he said, ‘May I ask you why?’
‘Of course. First of all, West International will be yours one day. You know the London operation inside out; I think the time has come for you to totally understand the American end of the company. I will guide you, always be there for you, whenever you need me. However, I do want you to start running it, Michael. Put very simply, it’s your turn now.’
Michael nodded. ‘I understand.’
‘Secondly, I want to take it a bit easier. I’ve rushed and pushed and driven myself hard for years and years. Since I was eighteen, actually. I think I should slow down a bit.’ A wry smile slid onto Maxim’s mouth, and he confided quietly, ‘My brush with death made me realise that there are more things in life than big deals.’
‘There are, and I’m glad you want to relax, Dad. However, I hope you’re not thinking of retiring yet. You’re only fifty-five.’
‘No chance of that, Michael,’ Maxim exclaimed, grinning. ‘I’d miss the excitement of wheeling and dealing. However, I don’t have to work twenty-four hours a day… I’ve come to realise that.’
‘When do you want me to go to New York?’
‘Whenever you can clear your desk here. Shall we say immediately?’
‘I can leave this weekend. There’s not much on the back burners here. Will you be going with me?’
‘No, but Graeme and Peter are expecting you, eagerly waiting for you. I’m leaving for Berlin next week, actually. I’m going to see Aunt Irina with Teddy.’
‘It’s a strange time to go, isn’t it, Dad?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘All the demonstrations, the unrest in East Berlin, in East Germany, in all of the Eastern bloc countries.’
‘I think it’s a fascinating time! We’re going to see some extraordinary changes in the next few months, Michael, mark my words. Russia’s in trouble economically, and that’s part of what’s behind Gorbachev’s overtures to the West. He’s not so concerned with saving the Communist Party these days, but saving his country, his people. And also his attitude to the Eastern bloc governments is going to lead the way to a great deal of reform. You’ll see.’
‘Three years ago, when I was with you in Berlin, you told me the Berlin Wall had to come down, and that it would, one day. Do you think that will happen?’
Maxim shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It should come down, it’s an abomination.’
‘If it did, do you think there would be reunification in Germany?’
‘I don’t know,—that’s not as easy as it sounds. It would be pretty complicated to achieve.’
A reflective look crossed Michael’s face. ‘A reunited Germany? How will people react to that?’
‘I don’t know. But let’s not forget that the Germans of today think of themselves as Europeans, and in 1992 there are going to be no borders in Europe. We’re going to be as one, in a sense. A sort of united commonwealth.’
‘I understand what you’re saying… however, there will be those who will over-react, who will see German reunification as a threat.’
Maxim laughed. ‘I know, but those who think in this way simply don’t understand European politics, and, moreover, the European economic situation as it is today. And anyway, the Germans have been bending over backwards to expiate their crimes for the past forty-four years. They’re going to be very careful. They want world approval.’
‘New generation, new values. Is that what you’re saying, Dad?’
‘I suppose I am.’ Maxim stood, picked up the folders, walked around his desk.
Michael jumped up, took the folders from his father as they were handed to him. ‘Thanks for this tremendous vote of confidence, Dad. I won’t let you down.’
‘I know you won’t, Michael. You’re my son, a chip off the old block.’ As Maxim spoke he put his arm around Michael’s shoulders, and walked him to the door.
***
‘Mr Trenton will be coming for a drink before we go out to dinner, Marco,’ Maxim told the butler who ran his Mayfair house.
‘Shall I serve the usual Roederer Cristal, Sir Maxim?’
‘Yes please, Marco. Mr Trenton will be arriving around seven-thirty. We’ll ha
ve drinks in the downstairs library.’
Marco inclined his head. ‘Would you like anything now, Sir Maxim? A cup of tea perhaps?’
‘No, thank you,’ Maxim murmured, walking over to a chair, sitting down, picking up the Evening Standard.
‘Very good, sir.’ Marco slipped out of Maxim’s upstairs study, which was part of his bedroom suite, and closed the door quietly behind him.
Maxim glanced at the front page, and put the paper down, not in the mood to read. He leaned back in the chair, closed his eyes, thought of the day’s events. His daughter’s sudden arrival in London had been a surprise and a delight. One of the things which had given him the most satisfaction in the past nine months since the shooting was the healing of the rift between them. That had been Alix’s doing, who had been at his side constantly during his stay in hospital, and afterwards. He had been about to instigate a reconciliation himself, at the beginning of the year, when he had flown to New York to see her, only to discover she was on the coast. They were truly good friends again, closer than they had ever been. And now perhaps he would be able to enjoy the same kind of relationship with his son. His thoughts turned to Michael, whose stunned shock had been something to behold. He really had been knocked for a loop this afternoon. Maxim smiled inwardly, happy that he had finally handed over some of his power and responsibility. Quite aside from anything else, Michael was deserving. He’ll do just fine, Maxim said to himself. He’ll truly come into his own, running the New York office.
New York. The thought of the mess there filled him with dismay and apprehension. But it would have to be dealt with sooner or later. Suddenly he remembered something Camilla had once told him years ago. ‘We write our own scripts, then act them out,’ she had said, and she had been correct. He had written all of those New York scenes himself. There was really no one else to blame, and ultimately he must take the responsibility.
Next week he was going to Berlin with Teddy. From there he would fly to New York. He experienced a surge of relief as he came to this decision. Once in New York he would put things right. He had no alternative but to do that; so many lives were involved.
He had survived the shooting by the skin of his teeth, and he had made a promise to himself to bring order to his unorthodox private life when he was fully recovered. And he had been doing this slowly. His recuperation had taken longer than he had expected; then in June there had been the investiture at Buckingham Palace, when he had been knighted. And after that, following his doctor’s advice, he had taken a long cruise on his yacht, sailing around the Mediterranean with his immediate family during July and August: Alix, Michael and Anastasia, Teddy and Mark, the Derevenkos, Stubby, and Marcia… those he was closest to, loved and cared about the most, and who loved him. In September he had flown to Japan on urgent business, had stopped off in Australia and Hong Kong, before returning to London.
He had been here for the whole of October, supervising the acquisition of a French perfume and cosmetic company. Then working on his plans for Michael’s eventual succession as head of West International a few years from now, when he finally retired. But obviously the time had come to settle matters in New York.
Maxim rose, walked over to the fireplace, stood with his back to it, an abstracted expression filling his face. He was still as tortured by inner conflicts and doubts as he had been at the beginning of the year, before the shooting. His brush with death had only made him more acutely aware of them. Most nights he lay awake, prowling the dark labyrinths of his soul, seeking meanings for his life and all that had happened to him. He still had no answers for himself, no new wisdom.
He had been filled with a deep sadness for years, ever since his childhood. Anastasia’s departure from his life had only underscored that sadness, the immense sense of loss he had carried inside him.
The sadness would always be there, he had come to understand and accept that. He could only pray that one day he would find the peace which had eluded him for so long, and that when he did he would be at ease with himself and his life at last.
Maxim heard the doorbell ringing, roused himself from his thoughts, and went out of the study. He ran lightly down the stairs as Marco was opening the door to Stubby.
He’s been my friend for forty-seven years, Maxim thought. My best friend. Loyal, staunch, devoted and wise. Whatever would I have done without him?
FIFTY-EIGHT
‘What time is Aunt Irina expecting us at her flat?’ Maxim asked, walking out of the bedroom of his suite in the Kempinski Hotel in Berlin.
‘Not for a couple of hours,’ Teddy answered.
He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s only five o’clock. I must have misunderstood you. I had it in my head that we’re supposed to be meeting her shortly.’
‘You didn’t misunderstand anything, Maxim,’ Teddy said. ‘I did tell you we should be ready by five o’clock. However, we’re not going to Irina’s just yet… I’m expecting a guest.’
‘Who?’
‘A friend of… a friend of Mutti’s,’ Teddy began, and stopped, staring up at him, suddenly seeing him very objectively for once in her life. She could not help thinking what a striking and handsome man he was, and how well he looked after his ordeal. When he had been shot she had been out of her mind with worry. And she who had lost her faith had begun to pray again; she had prayed every night for him, and when he recovered, her faith in God had been restored. Maxim said, ‘You’re looking strange, Teddy. What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing. To tell you the truth, I was just thinking how wonderful you’re looking at the moment. So very healthy.’
He smiled at her. ‘It’s the tan. But seriously, I do feel very well, Teddy. But who is it that you’re expecting?’
‘I told you, a former—’ Teddy stopped, stood up abruptly at the sound of knocking, hurried to open the door before Maxim had a chance to do so. ‘Good afternoon, thank you for coming,’ she said, and opening the door wider, Teddy escorted her guest into the suite.
Maxim stood in the centre of the floor, slightly taken aback when he saw the woman with Teddy. She was a nun dressed in a dark brown habit and a black veil. He was puzzled, and gave Teddy a quick, questioning look.
Teddy said, ‘Sister Constanza, I would like to introduce you to Maximilian West. Maxim, this is Sister Constanza of the Sisters of the Poor of St Francis.’
Maxim inclined his head, wondering what the association between Mutti and the Catholic sister could have possibly been.
The nun walked forward, smiling, her hand outstretched.
Maxim took it, smiling in return, thinking that he had never seen such a peaceful face on anyone before in his entire life. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Sister Constanza.’
The nun was small, dainty, her eyes warm, her voice gentle when she said, ‘I am delighted to meet you at last. Teddy has written to me for many years, and has told me so much about you.’
Maxim’s bafflement increased and he stared at Teddy expectantly.
Teddy ignored his quizzical expression, turned to the nun and said, ‘Please do sit down, Sister Constanza.’
‘Thank you,’ the sister responded and lowered herself into a chair.
‘Can I offer you some sort of refreshment? Coffee or tea?’ Maxim asked, looking across at the nun, and then at Teddy.
‘No thank you,’ the sister said.
‘And what about you, Teddy?’
‘Nothing, thanks, Maxim. Come and sit here with me.’ Teddy patted the sofa, where he joined her, frowning slightly, wondering what this was all about.
Clearing her throat, Teddy said, ‘There’s something I’ve wanted to tell you. For years and years, Maxim.’ She held him with her eyes, continued, after a moment, ‘And I should have told you… a long time ago, actually. But I didn’t.’ She took a deep breath. ‘In 1939, before we left Paris, Ursula gave me a letter for you—’
‘Yes, I still have it,’ he interrupted, a hint of impatience creeping into his voice.
‘And Ursula also
gave me a letter, which I was instructed not to open except in the event of her death. That is the first thing I did when I came back from Berlin in 1945. There was information in the letter which she wanted me to have, something she wanted me to know. She said I had to use my discretion… about telling you or not, when you were old enough to understand. But I never did tell you, or show you the letter.’
‘What did it say?’ Maxim asked, his curiosity fully aroused.
‘I’ll tell you in a moment,’ Teddy replied. ‘When you almost died earlier this year I regretted that I had never given you the letter. I suddenly realised how wrong I had been to… well, to play God, in a sense. You had every right to know what was in the letter.’
‘What was in it?’ he demanded.
Teddy reached out, took hold of his hand, held it very tightly in hers. She said softly, ‘Ursula Westheim was not your birth mother, Maxim. She adopted you… she and Sigmund adopted you when you were a day old.’
Maxim sat back slightly, gaping at Teddy. He was stunned by her extraordinary words. Shock flooded his eyes. For a moment he was unable to say anything, trying to digest what she had just said, to comprehend her words.
But at last he managed to ask in an unsteady voice, ‘Then who was my mother?’
Teddy returned his penetrating stare but did not answer him.
There was a sudden, painful silence in the room.
Very softly, in that same gentle voice, Sister Constanza said, ‘I am your mother, Maxim. I gave you life.’
Maxim’s jaw dropped. His eyes focused on the nun, remained riveted on her. He was reeling from shock, still unable to absorb the things he was hearing.
‘But how can you be my mother?’ he gasped hoarsely. ‘You’re a nun.’ He looked from Sister Constanza to Teddy, his eyes dazed.
Sister Constanza said, ‘I was not always a nun, and I am your birth mother, Maxim, truly I am.’
‘But I don’t understand!’ he exclaimed. ‘You are a Catholic, the Westheims were Jews. How did they come to adopt me?’
‘I would like to tell you the story,’ the nun replied. ‘May I?’