Take Me Higher (17 page)

Ira gave way on one thing: he would not make public any details of their loss.

There were, of course, rumours abounding and though Diana had remained, as she had wanted to be, in the background as the secret investor, she was privy to information about Ira and his dealings in the valley. When she heard that he had gone against his word to Syrah and there was no Richebourg at the helm of Richebourg-Conti she did not tell her friend, concluding it would only cause Syrah more distress. Diana knew Ira too well. No appeal to him on the Richebourgs’ behalf would ever work. Once she saw Syrah struggling against her depression and growing stronger every day in spite of the pain, Diana began distancing herself. She was leaving her friend and Keoki to work out their emotionally tortured lives.

Syrah and Keoki had been like family to Diana. She loved Syrah as a sister, liked her as a friend. She was loyal and true, courageous and full of life. Her bad luck and the blow she, and now all the Richebourgs, had been dealt by Ira began to eat at Diana’s soul and her passion for fairness and justice sprang into action. She was a substantial investor
in the Valley and having secretly gone up against Ira and thwarted his land-grabbing, felt
his
greediness to be to
her
advantage. At home in Beverly Hills, she thought about nothing else but that and the proposed movie re-make of A Streetcar Named Desire. She was to play Blanche Dubois, while in her personal life a plan seemed to be coming together, devious and daring. She felt she had nothing to lose and everything to gain. She was, after all, an actress.

Her first move was to arrange to be at a dinner party where she knew Ira had been invited. She agonized over what to wear and finally settled on an Yves St Laurent black dinner dress she had worn when she received a Bafta Award in London. Around her neck was a diamond choker that Ira had bought her many years before and on her ears square-cut diamonds of considerable size that he had given her when she had won her first Oscar. Her long shapely legs were encased in the sheerest of black silk stockings and on her feet she wore black lizard high-heeled shoes.

Ira found her irresistible: beauty as hot as it was cold, sexy to the extreme, aloof rather than arrogant, and with a face that could make angels sing. When she entered her hostess’s house, all went quiet for a few seconds. Diana George had the sort of star quality that did that to people. Several guests gathered round her but not for long. Ira pushed his way forward and claimed her for his own.

‘You look dazzlingly beautiful,’ he told her, and kissed her on the cheek.

He never left her side but had to tolerate other people joining them. Diana was witty and charming, and Ira wondered how he had been so foolish as to let her walk out of his life. Her wit was dry, her charm never overbearing, and she carried an air of humility about herself and her achievements that was enchanting. All this Ira observed as he stood next to her, drinking champagne and remaining completely unaware that she was flirting with him: a touch to his hand, a smile, the gentle caress of his cheek with the back of her hand.

The room was buzzing about them with rumours of a reconciliation. The hostess dashed into the dining room and switched the seating arrangements to place Diana next to Ira.

Once seated, the couple began to chat in earnest. Ira asked after Syrah and they spoke of her only briefly because they were more
interested to tell each other about the loss they had felt on becoming estranged from one another. Their reconciliation was a very public one: gossip columnists who could rarely find anything to write about Diana made the most of it. The
paparazzi
caught them out looking dewy-eyed at one another and sold the photos to the
National Enquirer
and the newspapers.

The following days for Diana were filled with flowers and presents from Ira. He was courting her once more. There were still vestiges of the man she had loved and admired for so long, just a spark. But was a spark enough? she had to ask herself. Ira was in the best of moods. On top: reaping the rewards he had plotted and planned and gambled for, including the woman he wanted to marry on his terms. It had taken only one night of sex with Diana to convince him she wanted him back just as much as he wanted her.

They were in the bedroom of his Malibu house. He could make love to Diana as no other man could. She realised that orgasms achieved with Ira were an ecstasy unlike any other form of bliss. Orgasm for Diana was one of the miracles of life. As for Ira, he could never get enough of her. No matter how often she came, he wanted her to come again. He adored her the most when she was faint with coming, near to death in her erotic pleasure. He never stopped fucking Diana until she begged him to, until every fantasy of sexual depravity had run its course.

She begged and wept, not with pain but acute pleasure, and they came together and then he held her in his arms and asked, ‘Will you marry me?’

‘Still on your terms: total freedom, other women?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ he boldly answered.

‘And what about Syrah? I’ve seen you lust after her. I could not abide you cheating on me with my best friend,’ she told him with sadness in her voice.

‘Listen, my darling, my heart, Syrah was an option that became an obsession. Sure, there’s an attraction between us and in my sexual fantasies I still imagine that one day we will have a liaison. But that’s only my imagination and I promise you, if you marry me, that’s where it will stay. I love you, Diana, I always have. I want you for my wife, to be the mother of my children, you’ve always known that. Just as you have always known the other women meant nothing to me compared
to you. Marry me. Name your conditions, and if I can meet them honestly, I will.’

‘I have to think about this, Ira,’ she told him.

‘What’s to think about? Say yes, and think about it later,’ he pressed.

‘Give me twenty-four hours,’ she told him, sliding on top of him, and they kissed deeply. She nibbled on his nipples then bit into them and kissed her way down his body. Slowly, deliberately, she took him into her warm, silky smooth mouth and caressed him with her tongue, sucked him deeply, subjugated him and his desire to come to her will.

Chapter 15

That first phone call from Syrah to Diana after the dinner party and the newspaper photographs of her and Ira together had been especially difficult for Diana to take. Syrah came directly to the point. ‘Tell me it’s not true you are reconciled with Ira?’

‘It is,’ replied her friend.

‘How could you go back to him? He’s more monstrous than ever. I honestly believed you were over him. Never mind what he’s done to me, remember what he’s done to you in the past.’ Bitterness and anger dripped from Syrah’s every word.

‘That’s the past. I don’t want to talk about it or Ira and my relationship with him. It’s too complex. We’ll talk about it another time. You have enough to think about without my love-life to deal with. You won’t talk me out of what I’m doing. Please support me in this.’

The two women had not spoken since they had had that conversation. Things were moving so fast with Diana and Ira there had been little time to think about Syrah.

Diana was awakened one morning by a kiss from Ira and a reminder, ‘You said you would give me your answer. Tomorrow at breakfast?’

‘Yes, tomorrow, first thing in the morning,’ she told him flirtatiously and then he was gone, flying to Seattle for a meeting. As soon as she heard his car being driven away, Diana called Syrah.

Her friend’s first words once she recognised Diana’s voice were, ‘I’m sorry about the other day. You being back with Ira was just a shock for me.’

‘Syrah, can you fly down here for a late lunch? I must talk to you, make you understand that Ira has everything I want and we’ll both have to live with that.’

A car was waiting for Syrah when she landed her plane. She was
excited at the thought of seeing Diana. She had been miserable at the idea that her friend was back with Ira. It was all wrong and she was certain that Diana was just as aware of that as she was.

A great couturier had once said, ‘Women do not dress for their men, they dress for women.’ That was the first thing Diana thought when she walked from the house to greet Syrah. Never had either woman looked more beautiful nor so underdressed as they did now. Syrah in a white silk collarless blouse and a pair of blue jeans; Diana in pale silver-grey wide-legged cotton trousers and a smock of the same material. The two women kissed in a greeting that should have been easy and loving and was not.

It was in fact so strained that as they walked through the garden they could only speak of mundane things.

At the table Syrah nervously said, ‘We can’t just hedge round talking about you and Ira.’

‘No, we can’t. I’m going to marry him, Syrah. I wanted you to be the first to know, even before him.’

‘You can’t be that stupid, Diana! What possible reason could you have for marrying him? And don’t insult my intelligence and tell me because you love him or the sex is great!’ exclaimed Syrah.

‘Don’t do this, Syrah. Be happy, not jealous because James can’t come through to make a life with you.’ The moment Diana uttered these words she wanted to bite her tongue, rush round the table and hug her friend to her to try to explain her decision to marry Ira. But that was impossible.’

‘That’s cruel if probably true, though it was the last thing on my mind. And what about what your husband-to-be did to me and my family? Will you be able to wipe that out of your life with Ira? I think not! This is the end of our friendship. You write me off as a friend if you marry him. This man you want for a husband and the father of your children who only a matter of days ago wanted
me
for sex, who said if I played my cards right he might in time marry
me
. You’ve picked real husband material there! Diana, you’re breaking my heart.’

Syrah walked away from the table, devastated. She had been betrayed by her best friend. She walked away from the house, not quite believing that the long-time friendship between them was broken. That afternoon Diana waited for the telephone to ring, to hear Syrah’s voice uttering
an apology. It never rang. There was never an apology nor any good wishes from her. Diana was unnerved by what had passed between them and sad beyond measure.

That evening she slept at Ira’s Malibu house. She was sitting on the beach in front of his drawing-room windows when he arrived the following morning. He took her by surprise, coming up behind her and placing a kiss on the top of her head. His lips grazed her cheeks. Following him two house staff carried a table set for breakfast and two chairs.

‘If it’s
yes
, you get breakfast,’ Ira told her.

‘And if it’s no?’ she asked, a smile on her lips.

‘That’s not possible. You love me too much. Marry me and I’ll give you anything you want for a wedding present.’

‘If I marry you, I lose my best friend. Syrah wants nothing to do with us. I’m really angry with her for not being happy for me at the most thrilling time of my life. What I’ve waited for, always dreamed of,’ she told him as she rose from the beach chair and slid her arms around his waist, pressing against him. Something happened in that embrace, Diana sensed he was falling deeply in love with her, out-of-control in love. It overwhelmed her.

‘Then I can take it that is a
yes
?’ he asked, a smile on his face.

‘Yes, I will marry you, and would have married no other,’ she told him.

Ira swept her off the sand and into his arms. He caressed her, kissed her lips and then her face. He laughed and shouted to passers by: ‘She said yes! She said yes!’

They were both laughing as he swung her round and round. ‘You’ve made me feel like the luckiest man on earth. You won’t regret this. I’ll make you happier than we have ever been. I was so afraid you were going to say no. That Syrah would talk you out of happiness.’

Ira pulled Diana down to the sand and on to his lap, kissed her and stroked her hair. ‘We’ve come a long way, you and me, girl. Now I want to put the world at your feet. You deserve nothing less. Let’s get married as soon as possible. Big wedding or little wedding?’

‘Little wedding, large reception,’ she told him, and returned his kisses and caresses.

Diana had overwhelmed him. She now sensed what he had always
claimed to be true, that she was the other half of himself. Once he’d committed himself instinct told Diana he would never stop falling in love with her.

Ira interrupted her thoughts. ‘I meant what I said before. I want to give you a wedding present, a gift just for you. Something so spectacular every woman will envy you for it. Something big and impressive that no one else can have.’

Diana kissed his ear then whispered into it, ‘I choose the deeds to Ruy Blas and Ethan’s wine collection. That’s not being too greedy, is it?’ she asked and kissed him again only this time more deeply.

‘You see yourself as a mistress of a small but great vineyard?’ he asked, amused by her choice.

‘No, dear, not mistress but owner of something rare and beautiful as well as your wife.’

‘That would hurt Syrah. Is this some sweet female revenge because she had a thing for me and tried to talk you out of marrying me? I confess it’s a delightful revenge and one I approve of. The deeds are yours, my bride. I’ll say one more thing. If I’ve taught you anything in our years together it was never to sell yourself cheap. Now I will be marrying a great actress, the most delicious of lovers, and a financially independent woman. I like it. Yes, I like it.’ and Diana kissed him and wept tears of joy.

She told him, feeling she was floating five feet above the ground, ‘This is the happiest day of my life. I will always love you for asking me to marry you, and for presenting me with such a terrific wedding present.’

Ira thought that he had never known what happiness was until now. He could not remember having this special something he was feeling that moment with Diana. To be loved as she was loving him was life itself. The deeds she asked for? He would have given her more than that. He was able to sign them over to her because under the terms of his arrangement with the Baron, Ira owned the title to the vineyards. For a fleeting moment he thought about Syrah. He knew he would on occasion still think about her. Their attraction for each other had never been resolved. She had chosen James over him and sexual rejection was always tough for Ira to handle. If it were possible, he loved Diana more for wanting Syrah’s legacy and getting it. He smiled over his own final revenge on her.

* * *

Only after Syrah returned from her lunch that never was with Diana did she realise how desperate and alone she felt. That what Diana had said in anger was partly true. She wanted a stable life with the man she loved, to build a future with James and their children. She questioned what she had left? Her son and flying, up and away above the mayhem of life. To feel the wind in her face and to soar like a bird or a butterfly. And that she concluded was still a great deal. For several days she and Keoki fell back on barnstorming: a dozen aerobatic events in one small town or another. The jolly camaraderie of men and women with their vintage flying machines distanced her from Diana’s treachery, James’s fractured love, and the wine world. Taking Keoki with her and making a fun life for them both helped heal over their wounds, made them stronger people. They returned to the Napa Valley and the barn and began to talk seriously about their no longer being poor and just how wealthy they had become. How extravagant they could afford to be. But as the days passed Syrah and Keoki never did go on the shopping spree they had promised themselves. Nor did they hold a large party for their wine friends, or even look for another house, a place where they could live permanently. Those things simply did not answer the call of their hearts.

Only a few weeks had passed since Syrah had sold out to Ira and people found it remarkable that she was, in a fashion, overcoming her disappointment, the deep depression she had slipped into. There were still any number of ‘if onlys’ that might have saved her and kept her Ruy Blas. But somehow these good people, who had only an inkling of the treachery used against her to make her give up her legacy, could not accept that life would not turn around for Syrah Richebourg.

It began with a pounding on the barn doors at three o’clock in the morning. Syrah and Melba arrived at the door at the same time, Keoki following sleepily behind. It was a warm but windy night and when they opened the door to find Henri Chagny and Blackwolf standing there with James’s daughters, the breeze whirled through the house. There were hugs and kisses all around. Betsy and Carrie looked confused but by no means unhappy. They trotted off to Keoki’s room as if they were at a pyjama party.

Filled with anxiety and foreboding, Syrah asked, ‘James? Is he all right?’

‘James is fine. It’s Katherine, she’s been killed in an automobile accident on the coast road to San Francisco.’ Blackwolf explained. ‘The children don’t know. He called me and asked me to bring them to you and say nothing to them as yet. He is with the police where the accident occurred. There’ll be a scandal. She was with a young man who has survived. I don’t know anything more. Is it all right for the children to be here?’

Syrah’s first reaction to the news of Katherine’s death was one of grief for the woman and her children. The pain that Katherine had caused so many people when she was alive was forgotten. But at what cost. Two little girls would be traumatised by a mother’s death. Syrah placed her hands over her face and wept from sadness and relief for James, his children and herself.

At midday on the following day James arrived at the barn. He looked distressed and pale as he walked into Syrah’s open arms. His first thought was for his children. After calling them, together with Keoki, he calmly told them of their mother’s death. The girls took the news as was expected, badly. It took several days for Melba, Keoki and James to comfort them. Betsy and Carrie had chosen to go back to their own house and asked Syrah, Melba and Keoki to go with them. As it had always been with James, his girls wishes came first and as awkward as it might look, moving the woman he loved in with them, he could not have cared less.

Katherine Whitehawk left many surprises behind her. Stories of her disturbed mind and complex personality that James had tried to keep quiet for his children’s sake were now aired openly. He had been the last to know of the scenes she’d made in public; the string of lovers, mostly rough trade, she’d commanded. All so hurtful for James, so embarrassing if his children were to find out. All their married life she had used him as a front while she bought her lovers and disposed of them when she was bored. This petite beauty of high social standing had even in death, cheated her husband.

The will was a further surprise to James. It had been made more than a decade before when she had left her entire estate to him and had never subsequently been changed. Katherine’s threat to destroy their children’s love for their father was real enough but using the changing of her will as a weapon to keep him from divorcing her had never
really been an option because she knew that money meant nothing to James. It had been just another form of torture for her to use against him.

Now that they were all living under the same roof, the trauma of recent events seemed to haunt James. He could not get over fate having treated them so unfairly. Too late he was wealthy enough to have saved Syrah’s legacy and Richebourg-Conti for her.

Sadness pervaded the house and affected them all until the two girls began talking openly about their mother, acknowledging her in some way every day until she became a part of their past that would not be forgotten but a presence that had nothing to do with their lives now in any negative way. Within a matter of days rather than weeks the two families were living together as one.

Nothing had changed between James and Syrah. Their love was stronger, more fulfilling than ever. It quite overwhelmed them. James and she had been through enough when Katherine had been alive, they saw no need now that they were both free to marry, not to do just that and get on with their lives. He asked her. She accepted.

To marry the man she loved and create a large and happy family for their children – a wish that could now be granted. Yet Syrah felt insecure. She was still bruised and battered from the last year of her struggles to stay alive and change her life. Psychologically, even physically, she did not feel fully recovered. Suddenly she found that she had to come to terms with her anxiety about marriage: domesticity on a full-time basis, a male figure coming into her and Keoki’s life permanently. Would it upset her son at last to have a father in his life? The boy’s happiness, his security? Would he be able to cope with having to share her with James?