The Talisman (77 page)

Alex poured his wife a brandy and held it out, letting her chatter on about her grandchildren, her daughters, until she flopped down in a chair and kicked off her gold sandals. ‘The Duke and Duchess of Kent were there. Oh, and Princess Grace, she’s so beautiful . . . You know, her son is almost Lyn’s age – we had lots to talk about . . . I’m exhausted, I’ve danced my feet off, I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything about the Honours List, have you? I mean, I keep plugging away, hinting to everyone I know. Rumour has it, and I’m sure it’s true, that . . .’

‘I heard a rumour tonight.’

Barbara smiled. ‘Really? Well, tell me, are you on the New Year’s List?’

‘I was at Edward’s, went to bring Evelyn home . . .’

Barbara sipped her brandy and yawned . . . then gasped as the glass was knocked out of her hand. Alex leaned over her, his hands resting on each arm of her chair. ‘I want the truth, Barbara, no lies . . . just the truth . . . Evelyn is Edward’s, isn’t he . . .? Isn’t he?’

He was too calm, too cool, and Barbara was scared of him. ‘Don’t be silly, darling, you’re frightening me.’

‘Then tell me the truth . . . whose child is he? He’s his, you only have to see them side by side to know it . . . Well? Tell me! He’s Edward’s, isn’t he?’

Barbara was trapped in her chair. He loomed over her, wouldn’t let her squirm her way out of it. She began to cry, and he finally moved away. She didn’t have to say it.

‘Jesus God, it’s true . . . it’s true.’

Barbara couldn’t stop crying, although she still did not admit it, but the more she cried the more he knew it was true. He stood with his back to her. ‘Why? Just tell me why?’

Barbara’s mind was racing, trying desperately to think of something, anything, to say to him. She rose from her chair and went to touch him, but he moved away so fast that she froze.

‘Why, tell me why? Jesus, you could have had it aborted, anything . . . Why?’ At last he turned to her, and she started to cry again. This time he hit her so hard across the face that she fell against the desk. Alex picked her up by her hair and threw her back into the chair. ‘How long have you two been together? Is it still going on?’

Barbara touched her lip, tasted blood in her mouth. ‘No . . . it was over before he was born. I . . . I went to him, went to him for you, I didn’t want anything to go wrong, you tried, you tried to make him sell the club, get rid of it . . . well, I tried.’

Alex looked at her with loathing. ‘So you went to bed with him? Who the hell do you think you’re kidding? You say you went to bed with my brother because of me? You did it for me? You’ve never done anything that wasn’t for yourself.’

Barbara faced him, her fists clenched. ‘I am telling you the truth, may God help me . . . I did it for you. I didn’t love him, I didn’t even want him! All I wanted was for you to be rid of that bloody club. You tried, don’t you remember how you tried . . .? Alex? Alex . . .?’

He stared at her coldly, and she cried again. He walked to the door. ‘You sicken me, you’ve made loveless marriages for both your daughters – you’ve done that for me, too, I suppose?’

Barbara snapped back at him through her tears, ‘Yes . . . yes . . . and you benefit, so don’t kid yourself you don’t. Just as you use my money as though it were your own, maybe you don’t do anything except for yourself, either, Alex . . .’

He shuddered, repelled. ‘He’s not to know, understand me? He’s never to know, and he’s not to be allowed near Edward again . . . I’ll move into the spare room.’ He shut the door quietly behind him.

Barbara ran after him, yanked it open. ‘Is that it? Is that all you have to say? You’re moving into the spare room? You might as well have been there for years, you think this is a marriage? I never see you, and when I do you’re just going out to some business meeting. I see more of the goddamn butler than I do of you!’

‘Fine, maybe you should have an affair with him.’

Barbara went for him, tried to hit him, but he caught her wrist and pushed her away. This time she fell against the stairs.

‘Stay away from me, you disgust me.’

‘I disgust you? I disgust you? Well, fuck you . . .’

‘That’s it, Barbara, come on, let’s hear what you really are, let’s hear it. Bet all those society friends of yours would love to see you now, crawling up the stairs.’

Hauling herself to her feet, Barbara was in such a rage that she screamed. Alex laughed at her, turned away and walked up the stairs, with Barbara screaming after him.

‘You’ll never get me crawling to you, the only person you can crawl to is Edward . . . When he says jump, you jump . . . when he’s drunk you run round there and clean him up like he was your big baby . . . You are married to him, only you don’t even know it . . .’

Alex froze, unable to move. He was fighting for control, because he wanted to kill her. All he had to do was turn round and hit her and she would fall backwards down the stairs . . .

She kept coming close, shouting at him. ‘It’s always been Edward, hasn’t it, you keep on about how much you hate him, you don’t hate him, you love him . . . he means more to you than I ever did, than ever your son did . . . Yes, he’s his!’

Alex turned; the sight of his face, like a mask, made her shut her mouth. She pressed herself against the wall, terrified. ‘Don’t touch me, Alex, or I’ll scream, Scargill will see you . . . Don’t touch me.’

Alex smiled and looked down at her. His quiet voice was icy. ‘Don’t worry, Barbara, I’ll never touch you again.’

He left her sobbing on the stairs. He packed a case, then went into Evelyn’s room and packed his. Then he gently shook him awake. ‘Come on, Daddy’s got a surprise, we’re going to New York for Christmas . . . come on, darling, wakey, wakey.’

Barbara was still crying when she saw Alex carry his son, Edward’s child, out to the Rolls-Royce and drive away.

As the plane took off, Evelyn slipped his hand into Alex’s. He was always a little afraid of flying. Alex gave him a fatherly pat, then helped him unbuckle his safety belt as the indicators went off. The air hostess placed a glass of champagne on Alex’s table.

‘Oh, can I have one too, please?’

The air hostess looked at Alex and he gave a small nod, so Evelyn sipped his glass of champagne. ‘Why don’t you like Uncle Edward, Daddy, did he do something wrong?’

Slipping his arm around Evelyn, Alex told him he asked too many questions, then kissed the top of his head.

‘I wish I had a brother, he is your brother, isn’t he?’

Alex leaned back and closed his eyes. ‘Yes, he is my brother, we just don’t get along, that’s all. Now, I don’t want to hear any more, just let me rest.’

Kicking his feet against the seat, Evelyn sipped his champagne in silence. He turned to look at his father, whose head was resting on the pillow, his eyes still closed. He studied Alex’s profile sternly, and then decided that Uncle Edward was better-looking, and he was also . . . He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something different about the Big Bad Wolf.

Alex was not asleep, he was irritated by the knocking of Evelyn’s heels against the bottom of the seat. The dark head was resting against his arm, and he could smell the boy’s hair. ‘I used to love him so, Evelyn, we used to be like one person.’

Evelyn didn’t hear, he was fast asleep. Alex eased the empty glass from his hand and covered him with a red airline blanket.

Edward could not bear to see Harriet, but the doctors confirmed his suspicions that this time her recovery would be very slow, if at all. Arrangements were made for her to be moved to a mental institution and, as always, Edward provided the best medical care money could buy. Jinks was placed in a boarding school. The clothes of the bewildered child were packed by a heartbroken Dewint. Edward spent days shut in his office. Eventually he handed Miss Henderson a thick dossier of instructions, plus a chequebook with his signature already written for Alex’s use. Miss Henderson had never seen Edward so subdued, as if mourning a loved one. In a way he was; the Harriet he knew had gone for ever, and he had no one to blame but himself. In one night he had lost his family; he had also lost his hope of forming a relationship with his son. He knew that by now Alex would be suspicious, not like Harriet, but intuitively aware that the boy was his. It was Evelyn that Edward wanted more than anything else in his life. His sense of loss was all-consuming, as if a shadow lay across his heart, weighing him down. Just as he knew Alex would be more than able to cope without him, and more than likely pleased to be rid of him, he knew his brother would never give him his son. He owed Alex for his years spent in jail. At times he even thought the debt was repaid. Edward’s mind reeled. Not concerned with the fact that he had destroyed his own and Alex’s family, he attempted to push the shadow from him, to search for something that would make Alex give up his son. What if he made Alex an offer of such magnitude he could not turn it down?

Miss Henderson heard Edward locking his office. As he passed her desk he dropped a sealed envelope into her lap. ‘Make sure my brother gets that, would you, Henny?’

‘Will you be away long, Mr Barkley?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t know where I’m going and I don’t know when I’ll be back. I’m trying for the deal of a lifetime, Henny. Take care of yourself.’

She watched him walk out to the corridor, press for the lift. As it arrived he turned back to her and gave her a strange dejected look, and was gone.

Ming was waiting at Kennedy Airport, waving to them both as they came through the barrier. Alex kissed the Japanese woman on both cheeks, and Evelyn shook the delicate hand.

‘Well, Alex, you never mentioned what a handsome boy your son is.’

Evelyn might not have been very old, but he didn’t miss a trick. His father had never mentioned this pretty lady, and he seemed very friendly with her.

‘Do you have a big Christmas tree?’

Evelyn got no reply to his question. Alex and Ming were already discussing business, and he was ignored.

Throughout the journey across New York, Evelyn stared open-mouthed from the limo. He had never seen such tall buildings, and he asked many questions, repeating the phrase ‘skyscrapers’ with a chuckle. All the cars drove on the wrong side of the road, and the taxis were bright yellow . . . Eventually Alex patted his head and told him not to keep chattering, as he was very tired. So Evelyn kept his nose pressed to the window, and didn’t say anything when thick snow began to fall. He wondered what Uncle Edward would be doing, New York was much colder, and he hoped the lady would have big log fires like they had at the manor house.

Evelyn thought Ming’s apartment was very nice, if a bit too tidy. Everything looked sparse, and there was a place for every precious ornament. The Christmas tree was just some weird-looking, white-painted twigs with a few gold balls.

The tiny boxroom to which Evelyn was shown contained only a white-painted bed, a single white chair and a polished, lacquered chest with a single white cushion on it. The floor was of polished pine. He was afraid to sit down or move in case he left fingermarks.

Ming had not asked why Alex called her in the middle of the night, why he had wanted to spend Christmas with her, why he had trailed his small son along. She was too clever, waiting until they sat alone by the gas ‘log’ fire. Alex took his time, eventually slipping his arm around her. ‘I need you, I need you, thank you for letting us stay.’

Ming smiled and closed her eyes. Once, she had wanted to hear him say that, once, but it was a long time ago. She wondered what had sparked off this unscheduled visit, knew there was something else.

‘I don’t want to talk business tonight, but in the morning, we have a lot to discuss . . .’

Ming smiled again, but said nothing, she simply held out her hand and guided Alex into her white bedroom.

Evelyn woke in the night, and the white shapes in the room scared him, so he slipped along the corridor, barefooted, to his father’s room. Alex lay beside Ming, both fast asleep, and Evelyn stared, dumbfounded.

Christmas came and went, and Evelyn spent the majority of his time either alone in his room or being driven around New York by a Japanese chauffeur who could hardly speak a word of English. He visited the zoo, the cartoon cinemas, and behaved impeccably. Ming was civil, always smiling, but there was no warmth, no affection. She gave Evelyn a strange game with silver balls rolling around as a Christmas gift.

The bell chimed for dinner, and Evelyn washed his face and scrubbed his hands, then hurried towards the dining room. He could hear Ming’s voice.

‘I am thinking of going public, selling off the shares in the boutiques and shops. This will give me the cash flow to move into opening a construction company. It makes sense, as I do most of the designs for the major companies, so why not offer construction facilities as well?’

Evelyn reached the half-open door.

‘My company could help you there, we have facilities both here and in . . .’

Ming interrupted. Evelyn heard the chill in her high-pitched, snapping voice, and paused in the doorway.

‘You don’t have to tell me what you have, and isn’t it really more what Edward has? From what you have told me there is very little “we” in your company, you can’t even sign a cheque without Edward.’

Ming sounded the chimes again for Evelyn to come, and at the same time she pulled out a chair to sit down at the table. Evelyn entered and sat down, apologizing for being two minutes late. Ming flicked him a cold look of irritation.

The food, which Evelyn found dreadful, consisted of raw vegetables and rubber-tasting fish, and made him feel sick. Throughout the meal, Alex and Ming discussed business, but they were both cool and controlled, choosing their words carefully. Ming’s tiny hands folded her starched, white napkin into the shape of a flower.

‘Daddy . . . Daddy, can we go to see a movie?’

‘Not now, Evelyn, I’m busy. Ask the chauffeur . . . go along, I’ll see you later.’

Evelyn wandered back to his room and sat on the white bed. He felt lonely, and even as young as he was he could detect a change in his father’s attitude. He curled up and wept, trying to think what he had done to turn his father against him.