Hotel du Barry (32 page)

Sebastian said nothing until he'd located a crate of Caterina Anastasia Grande Imperial Champagne. ‘Ah, here it is. Terribly sorry, Madam. I didn't think to look for it there.'

He turned around but Edwina had vanished.

Cat couldn't stop thinking about the six dozen roses delivered that morning in a long, white cardboard box. With great excitement she'd ripped away yards of violet satin ribbon. The roses came from London's most exclusive florist and they'd seduced her with their dusky hothouse beauty. She couldn't resist burying her face in them and feeling their downy petals against her skin.

Henri had personally brought them up to Cat's studio. ‘There was no card. They were delivered by a young thug. He was covered in tattoos and equipped with a pirate's earring and an arrogant attitude. He ordered Charlie to deliver them
pronto
to Cat du Barry. I telephoned the florist for further information and they identified the lad as the buyer but didn't know his name. They got the impression he wasn't in the habit of buying flowers for young ladies. He paid cash and peeled it off a thick roll of banknotes. He didn't trust the florist to make the delivery.'

Cat had never received such exquisite blooms. Abundant in their lushness, they were a new breed of indeterminate colour, neither mauve nor purple.

*

Later that morning the phone rang. The operator connected the call to Cat's apartment and it was the voice Cat had been longing to hear.

‘Hey, babe, do you like the roses?'

‘They're absolutely stunning. Thank you. Your French friend caused quite a stir at the hotel when he delivered them. Where
are
you, Jules?'

‘Paris. I've taken a job with your mother's latest lover, Francois Richelieu. Bit of a coincidence, eh?'

‘Interesting. Did you meet my mother before or after Monsieur Richelieu employed you?'

‘No. I met your mother when I was taking care of business. And she put me in touch with Francois. Synchronicity, eh?'

‘Why do I get the impression that you're leaving something out? I believe it's called lying by omission. Anyway, what exactly does your job entail?'

‘Come on, don't be like that. I accompanied Richelieu on a few business trips after his bodyguard was murdered in a bar room brawl. Richelieu's a sharp cove and he learnt to fly with Lindbergh. He now pilots his own planes, so I get to fly all over Europe.'

‘But what do you do, exactly, Jules?'

‘I'm managing all his asset protection needs. And I get to hire my friends.'

‘He's got the right man for the job, Jules. I always suspected you knew way too much about the wrong side of the law.'

‘Ouch. I deserved that. I'm sorry, Cat. I've been less than honest with you.'

‘Understatement of the century, Jules. But I'd rather you levelled with me some other time. I just don't think I can take any more bizarre revelations right now. I'm dealing with too many other dramas and I've got a lot on my mind.'

‘Sure, I understand. Listen, your mother's been asking about you.'

‘Really? That's surprising. But you know what? I'd rather not have to think about that woman. She's the last gasp as far as I'm concerned.'

‘Look, I just want to say I'm truly sorry I had to leave like that. I really miss you. You're the first person I think of when I wake up and you're my last thought before I go to sleep at night. I love you, Cat and –'

‘You can explain yourself another time. I'd rather you told me what you've been up to in Paris. I've forgotten what it's like to be amused by someone who has clearly underestimated my intelligence.'

There was a long pause and then he laughed. ‘Whoa, I wasn't quite sure how to take that, my love. Anyway, my job is very lucrative and I get quite a few perks. Would you consider spending a few days with me? Just you and I someplace swell.'

‘Sure, I'll think it over, but there is one condition.'

‘Name it, Cat. Anything. It's yours already.'

‘That you start telling the truth. Beginning with your real name.'

‘Now?'

‘No. I can't bear to hear the truth right now. Jim was hospitalised, he nearly died. And I'm having a terrible time with Eddie. Her behaviour is increasingly strange but I can't discuss it on the phone. The only good news is that your favourite Irishman has struck it rich overseas. I guess his gigolo days are well and truly over.'

‘Where is he now?'

‘Can't tell you on the phone, Jules.'

‘Sounds like you need a break from the hotel. Why not come to Paris next weekend? I know exactly how to take your mind off things.'

Cat smiled and her voice was wistful. ‘That would have been lovely but I can't. Things are going to get worse before they get
better. I lay awake all last night trying to work out what to do. I've been so distracted I haven't set foot in my studio and I'm now behind schedule with my commission.'

‘Sorry to hear that, Cat. It's just not like you. I should own up and tell you that I rang Bertha a few days ago. Told her I'd already booked a ticket for next week and was going to surprise you with a visit.'

Cat was speechless for a few seconds. ‘Ah . . . and what did Bertha say?'

‘She told me in no uncertain terms that you were having a really tough time. And a surprise visit would be a big mistake.'

‘She got that right.' Cat took a few self-calming deep breaths. ‘It's not that I don't want to see you Jules. Honest. You've no idea how much I miss you. But right now I can only focus on what Eddie's up to. I'm consumed with what is happening and unfortunately I can't really discuss it with you right now on the phone. None of it is good.'

Jules gave a low whistle. ‘Bloody hell, the situation is worse than I thought, babe.'

‘Tell me something to take my mind off the hotel.'

‘Let's think . . . when I first met Josephine at the, uh, drinks party, she wanted to know precisely what my intentions were towards you. She's not a woman who pussy foots around, and she really let me have it with both barrels. Your mother reckons you need protection from bad boys like me.'

Cat snorted. ‘That woman seems to have forgotten that she relinquished the right to interfere in my life. But Josephine's obviously smarter than she looks if she's got you worked out.'

‘Come on, be fair. If you didn't want me in your life you would have hung up in my ear when you first heard my voice. Anyway, I managed to persuade Josephine that my intentions are all good. Later she got a bit inebriated and confessed to being worried about you.'

There was a long pause before Cat answered. ‘Bloody hell. Why the sudden turn around? I don't understand her.'

Jules spoke slowly as though he didn't want to say the wrong thing. ‘Gossip about Edwina has reached Paris. Something about her creating a scene in a classy restaurant. Josephine reckons Edwina experiences short episodic madness, usually when she feels abandoned. She briefly turns into an eye-gouging fiend but the rest of the time she's rational. Apparently at one point Matthew was hospitalised and he told Josephine that Eddie was trying to poison him.'

Cat felt the ground open up. She couldn't speak. Jim had been right all along, but she'd refused to see what was right in front of her nose. What a little idiot she'd been, telling them that she knew Eddie better than anyone else.

‘Cat? Hello? . . . Are you still there?'

‘Yes. Oh Jules, I've made a terrible mistake. I've underestimated her.'

‘There's more, babe. Matthew bundled Edwina off to a private Swiss psychiatric clinic a few times at his own expense. Just short visits because Edwina would only stay until she calmed down. She honestly believed she was the only sane person in the whole damn clinic.'

‘Saner than the shrinks?'

‘Yes. But this is the important bit. Josephine reckons Edwina is ruthless, dangerous and capable of anything . . . Cat?'

‘Fuck this. I'm sorry Jules, but Josephine could easily be describing herself. I can't believe she gives a shite about me. You didn't hear what she said but you saw what I was like afterwards. That woman didn't want me around.'

She burst into tears.

‘Cat, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. You probably won't believe this – but in her own way she does care about you. I won't
mention her again. Look, I've got connections in London. Chaps who are fixers. Their methods are a bit unconventional. But I can call in a few favours. They're brilliant at solving the sort of problems that keep folk awake at night.'

Cat smiled. ‘Ah, no thanks, Jules, but it's nice of you to offer. There is something you could do for me, though.'

‘Anything. Name it.'

She wiped away her tears and blew her nose. He patiently waited until she was ready to speak.

‘Jules, I want you to lie to me. Tell me something fantastically improbable. Make up a story about how you fetched up in Paris. Charm me like you used to. For just a few minutes, I want to be lied to. I want to be seduced.'

He thought for a few moments, then he swept her up. Cat was borne away on his deep voice to a luminous place where truth and beauty prevailed, to the city of light where young men of elastic morality found themselves being offered lucrative careers, palatial apartments and a life free of fear. In these new beginnings there were no predators and no menacing shadows. Life was fabulous and every day a new adventure. Anything was possible and achievable, for Paris was the place where lost boys could reinvent themselves and become men of substance.

And while he weaved for her a tale of mystery and imagination, Cat closed her eyes and inhaled the powerful scent of seventy-two hothouse roses.

That night Cat slept peacefully. But at three in the morning the telephone rang in her apartment. She fumbled for the receiver and knocked over a jug of water sitting on the bedside table. Her pyjamas and bedding were drenched but the chilly water had snapped her awake.

It was Charlie calling from the Reception desk. ‘Sorry to wake you. I've just been told that Mrs du Barry is rat-faced and running half naked all over the goddamn roof. Cat, you'd better get up there. She's in danger. Should I call the night watchmen?'

Cat rubbed her bleary eyes. ‘No, nobody needs to know about this. I'm on my way. Ring Doc Ahearn and get him to meet me up there. Tell him he may need to sedate her again but he needs to stay out of sight for the time being. Eddie will be furious if she knows we've been talking about her behind her back.'

Cat quickly threw on some clothes and ran up the back fire escape to the Winter Garden. Inside the shimmering glass cathedral only one candelabrum had been lit. The effect was eerie. Strange shadows refracted against the glass and in the warmth of the jungle a palm tree shuddered as a hotel cat savagely clawed its trunk. The cloying perfume of exotic blooms hung heavily in the night air. The phonograph was playing a popular love song. A song of yearning, delusion and sadness.

At first Cat assumed Eddie had gone back downstairs. Then she saw her outside, teetering on the edge of the parapet. Wearing nothing but Daniel's favourite black silk kimono; it was far too big for her and fell in silken waves over her bare feet. A breeze played with the folds of the garment and her bare breasts were revealed, as the kimono's red satin lining flashed. She seemed impervious to the cold night air.

Edwina swung around when she heard Cat's footsteps. Her face was unusually pale. Cat tensed as Edwina weaved back and forth on the brick ledge.
What the fuck is she on? She's obviously been drinking but she seems only half-cut.

Cat leant against the brickwork and pretended to yawn. ‘Ah, I see you couldn't sleep either. I thought I'd take a stroll; the cool night air usually does the trick. Isn't it a lovely night?'

Edwina didn't respond. The song lyrics drifted away into the inky blackness of the night sky. Her voice came from far away. ‘This was your father's favourite song.'

‘I used to love it when he played it on the piano at parties. He had a terrific voice.'

‘He was a terrific man. But I could never replace my brother. Matthew was just too fucking perfect. You know what? Towards the end I don't think Danny even liked me.'

From the corner of her eye Cat glimpsed Doc Ahearn's lanky figure crossing the terrace and disappearing into the shadows of the Winter Garden. ‘I don't think he was cut out to love women.'

Edwina sighed and picked up an empty champagne glass. She held it over her ear.

‘I can hear the sea far, far, far away. Your father loved the sea. He was going to climb aboard his new yacht and leave me behind. Imagine that. Only one of us wanted a divorce. Could you get me another drink, poppet?'

‘Sure, but only if you get down off the ledge. Sit down on that deckchair and I'll be right back.'

Edwina did as she was told and Cat rushed into the Winter Garden. Doc was lurking near the bar. His hair was standing on end and he was wearing disreputable striped pyjamas and tartan slippers. At any other time Cat would have been amused at catching the suave doctor looking so dishevelled.

She grabbed a bottle of champagne. ‘Doc, sorry to drag you out of bed, but she needs heavy sedation.'

‘All right, Cat. I'll alert the night watchmen. We'll need help restraining her.'

‘No! I don't want anyone else up here, they'll just make her paranoid. I'm used to her moods, I know how to manage her.'

‘If you insist, my dear. But I don't like your chances if she's doped up and been at the gin. The combination makes her dangerous.'

‘What's she on, Doc?'

‘Don't know, I haven't treated her for months. She stopped consulting me after I refused to provide prescriptions for the recreational drugs she wanted. I suspect she's now seeing the infamous Doctor Eel. An alias of course as he's actually a
respectable
Harley Street specialist during office hours. He's the slippery bastard who got rich prescribing drugs with no questions asked. Edwina's entourage adore him.'