To Be the Best (21 page)

He opened his eyes, pulled himself upright on the seat, smiled ruefully.
His
timing was invariably wrong and
he
never had any luck when it came to women. Just the opposite. But he didn’t really care. He had no desire to get married, much preferred the life of a bachelor. There were, after all, worse fates.

The balmy night air drifting in through the open French doors was fragrant with a variety of mingled scents…honeysuckle, wisteria, rambling roses and eucalyptus, and inside the room there was a faint hint of
Joy,
Daisy’s favourite perfume, the one she invariably wore.

A Chopin
étude
played softly on the stereo in the background, and silk-shaded lamps added their mellow glow to the gracious drawing room, where peach, white and pale green predominated, and where a certain gentle calm prevailed.

Philip sat facing his mother across the antique Chinese coffee table made of hand-carved ebony, enjoying a snifter of cognac after the delicious dinner they had just shared. Fernando, the Filipino chef, had prepared Barramundi, his favourite fish, and Daisy had made an English trifle, which had always been a special treat when he was a child, and now he was feeling well satisfied, replete with good food and vintage wine, and completely spoiled as he relaxed on the comfortable sofa.

He brought the brandy balloon up to his nose and sniffed, appreciating the strong, almost harsh bouquet of the alcohol. He took a swallow, savoured it, then sat back, nursed the balloon in his hands, nodding from time to time as he listened to her softly modulated voice, giving her his entire attention.

‘And since Jason will be back from Perth on Thursday, I thought it would be nice to take Paula up to Dunoon for the weekend. Don’t you, darling? And you will come with us, won’t you?’

Philip put the balloon down on the end table and frowned. ‘Do you honestly think she’ll want to start travelling the
minute she gets here, after she’s flown half way across the world?’ He shook his head. ‘I doubt it, Mother.’ Instantly a grin surfaced, replaced his frown. ‘Besides, if I know
my
sister,
your
daughter, she’ll have her nose to the grindstone on Saturday, trying to bring order to the boutique at the Sydney-O’Neill. That’s why she’s flying out here, remember.’

‘Oh but she’s coming to see us as well!’ Daisy asserted, giving him a sharp look. She wondered if either of her children ever thought about anything else except business. She doubted it. They took after her mother.

Daisy’s face changed, became reflective, and after a moment she said, ‘But perhaps you’re right, Philip. It is
rushing
her a bit, I suppose. Maybe we can go up to the sheep station the following weekend.’

‘Yes, why not, Mother,’ he agreed, humouring her.

The smile flicked into Daisy’s vivid blue eyes again, and she leaned forward, her face full of enthusiasm and eagerness. ‘Jason and I have decided to spend an extra month in England, Philip. We’re leaving at the beginning of November instead of December, and we won’t be back until January. Three months…and I’m
so
looking forward to them, to being in London and at Pennistone Royal. Christmas in Yorkshire with Paula, Shane and the grandchildren, and the rest of the family as well, is my idea of sheer bliss. It’s going to be like old times…when Mummy was alive.’

‘Yes,’ Philip said. A brow lifted as he next asked, ‘Can Jason afford to be away so long though?’

‘Of course. And it’s one of the reasons he’s been spending so much time in Perth these last few weeks, making sure everything will run smoothly during his absence. And in any case, he has every confidence in his staff, just as you do.’ She smiled at him. ‘You’re coming too, aren’t you? To England for Christmas, I mean.’

‘Well, I’m not sure,’ he began, and stopped abruptly when he saw his mother’s expression. Her face had dropped.

‘I hope I can get away, darling,’ he muttered noncommitally, having no desire to make a decision about Christmas so far in advance, or to promise her anything. She would hold him to it.

‘Oh Philip, you must! You
promised
Paula! Have you forgotten about the sixtieth anniversary of Harte’s? You
have
to be at the dinner dance she’s giving on New Year’s Eve. Everyone’s going to be there, and it will look simply awful if you’re not.’

‘I’ll do my damnedest, Mother, okay?’

‘Yes, all right,’ she responded quietly, leaning back against the big pillows on the sofa, smoothing the skirt of her silk dress, sighing under her breath. After a moment, Daisy raised her eyes, studied Philip, trying to gauge his mood, wondering if she dare mention his current girlfriend. He could be touchy at times, and especially when it came to his private life.

Deciding to take a chance, she said in her low, even tone, ‘If you do come to England, I think it might be rather nice if you bring Veronica with you. She’s such a lovely young woman.’

Philip started to laugh and gave his mother an odd look.

Daisy stared back at him in surprise, perplexity flitting across her face. ‘What is it?’

Still chuckling and catching his breath, Philip finally managed to say, ‘Honestly, Mother, you
are
behind the times. I broke up with Veronica Marsden weeks and weeks ago. It’s over…finished…kaput.’

‘You didn’t tell me,’ Daisy replied, sounding reproachful. She filled with dismay. ‘Oh darling, I
am
sorry. As I said, she is a lovely person, and, frankly, I thought the two of you were quite serious about each other. But never mind,
I expect you know best, Pip,’ she murmured, using the diminutive of his childhood.

Her look became quizzical when she ventured, ‘Perhaps you’d like to bring the current favourite?’

‘There isn’t a current favourite, Mother. And please stop trying to get me married off!’ he exclaimed crossly. At once conscious of the hurt invading her eyes, he softened his harsh tone, added, with a light laugh, ‘You just want to get me hitched so that you can have lots of grandchildren to fuss over here in Australia.’

‘Yes, there’s some truth in that,’ Daisy admitted.

She lifted her cup, took a sip of the lemon tea, and fell silent, slipping down into her thoughts. And she asked herself why her son continually broke off with suitable young women at the most crucial time in his relationship with them. She remembered Selena, his girlfriend before Veronica, who had come to see her after she and Philip had parted company last year. Selena had confided that Philip had the need to end a relationship the moment it became serious, or rather, became
threatening
was the way Selena had put it. Daisy wondered if the girl had been correct. She stifled another sigh. Her son was as baffling to
her
as he was to many other people. There were those who said he was an enigma, and wasn’t that the absolute truth?

Philip, watching her closely, said, ‘Hey, Ma, what are you cooking up in that head of yours? I can almost see your mind working.’

‘Nothing, nothing at all, darling.’ Then Daisy gave a little laugh, and went on confidingly, ‘Actually, I was asking myself if you would ever marry.’

‘I have the reputation of being the biggest playboy in the western world. I aim to keep the title.’ Lifting the brandy balloon to his mouth, he winked at her over its rim, his expression mischievous.

‘Hardly a playboy, not the way you work, Philip. That’s an
exaggeration, and merely the press pinning a label on you, because you’re so eligible.’

Now Daisy shifted on the sofa, crossed her long legs, and a new seriousness entered her voice, as she continued, ‘But I can’t bear to think of you being alone later in your life, Philip. That’s a terrible prospect for you, and not a very comforting one for me to envisage either. And I certainly don’t want you to become a crusty old bachelor.’

Daisy paused, gave him a penetrating stare, hoping her words would sink in. ‘Not like poor John Crawford,’ she finished, thinking of her solicitor in London. He had once had a crush on her, had wanted to marry her after David’s death. But she had harboured only friendship for John, nothing deeper than that.

‘Yes, poor John indeed,’ Philip agreed. ‘He is a bit of a sorry case these days. Yearning after you, Ma, I do suspect. But me
crusty?
Never. The ladies will keep
me
young and merry into my old age.’ He gave her a cheeky grin. ‘You know what they say…variety’s the spice of life, and so I shall always make sure I have a pretty girl on my arm, even in my dotage.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ Daisy conceded, laughing with him. But privately she wondered if these fleeting liaisons with countless women were ever going to be enough for her son in the final analysis. If that was what he wanted then she supposed they would be. On the other hand, he was missing so much, not being married. She longed to continue the conversation, to speak to him very seriously about his personal life, his future, and the future of The McGill Corporation if he did not produce heirs. But instinct, and her better judgement, told her to keep quiet. After all, Philip was thirty-five and answerable to no one but himself, and he might easily resent her probing.

The phone trilled in the adjoining library, and a second later Daisy’s Filipino houseman, Rao, appeared in the arched
doorway to the living room. ‘Excuse me, madam, it’s Mr Rickards.’

‘Thank you, Rao,’ Daisy said, and glanced across at her son. ‘I won’t be a moment, darling.’

There was a faint swish of silk, a whiff of
Joy
, as Daisy rose and hurried out.

Philip’s eyes followed her.

He could not help thinking how young his mother looked tonight. She had celebrated her fifty-sixth birthday in May, but she appeared to be years younger. She had a slim, almost girlish figure, and her lovely face was quite unlined, and because she had stayed out of the sun most of her life, she had preserved her flawless English complexion. There was a freshness, a youthfulness about her still, and even the few strands of grey streaking her black hair did nothing to age her. She was remarkable; but then Emma had been well-preserved too.

Philip was finishing the last of his cognac when Daisy returned to the living room.

She said, ‘Jason sends his love, Pip. I told him what you said about dragging Paula to Coonamble, and he tends to agree with you that it wouldn’t be fair. Perhaps we’ll have a little dinner party for her on Saturday. Is that all right with you? You will come, won’t you?’

‘Of course! I wouldn’t miss being with old Beanstalk for anything. Listen, Mother, I’d really like you to take a look at the financial statements and balance sheets I brought with me. I want to go over them – ’

‘You know very well that’s not necessary, Philip,’ Daisy interrupted. ‘I don’t know a blessed thing about business, yet you constantly force these papers on me.’

‘But The McGill Corporation is
your
company, Mother.’

‘Oh fiddlesticks, Philip, it’s yours and Paula’s, except in name, and you know that. And obviously I trust you implicitly. Good Lord, darling, my mother trained you all
those years ago to do the job properly.
She
had immense faith in your judgement and business acumen, and so do I.’

‘Thanks for that lovely vote of confidence, Ma, but I insist you look at the papers. Let me go and get them.’ As he was speaking he hurried out to the foyer and returned at once with his briefcase.

Reluctantly, Daisy took the papers he offered and, settling back on the sofa, she began to read them slowly, although she only did so to please her son.

For his part, Philip sat observing her quietly, thinking that she looked stunning in the silk dress she was wearing. It was a peculiar bluish-purple, like the wisteria growing in her garden, and it underscored the blueness of her eyes. So did the sapphires on her ears and at her throat, a recent gift from Jason, she had told him over dinner. Jason Rickards is a lucky man, Philip thought, and then as his mother lifted her dark head, looked across at him, he smiled and handed her a second sheaf of papers.

‘Oh God, not more of them,’ Daisy groaned, making a face. ‘This is a pointless exercise, you know, they’re double Dutch to me.’

Philip merely grinned. This was now an old story between them.

‘Here, let me explain,’ he said, and went to join her on the sofa. For the next half hour he patiently walked her through the balance sheets, striving hard to explain everything in the simplest of terms, as he had been doing for years.

He did not return to the city that night.

He went instead to his house at Point Piper. Earlier he had phoned, and had told his housekeeper he would be arriving later, but not to wait up for him. She and the rest of the staff were in their own quarters when the car dropped him off at eleven.

He went straight to his den, laid his briefcase on the sofa and strode over to the bar, where he poured himself a brandy. Carrying it out to the terrace, he stood leaning against the balustrade, sipping the drink and staring out at the ocean, dark as pitch now under a dark and moonless sky.

His mother’s words reverberated in his head.

She wanted him to get married because she did not want him to end up a lonely man. That was a belly laugh. Being married didn’t necessarily prevent loneliness. Sometimes it even underscored one’s very aloneness. He’d never been married, but he had lived with a woman at one point in his life, and he was well aware that the company of another person did not change a damn thing. Certainly it did not chase the devils away.

He had had an unconventional private life for years now, and it worried Daisy, and he fully understood why. But there was nothing he could do about changing it. He sighed. Too many women over too short a period lately, and too damn many even for me, he thought, filling with sudden distaste.

As he examined his life with a new objectivity, he saw that it was as arid as the Great Sandy Desert. A meaningful relationship with a woman
had
eluded him. It would
always
elude him. But did that really matter? Long ago he had decided it was simpler to settle for sex. A physical relationship was reasonably uncomplicated. Anyway, he was a loner by nature. At least he could live comfortably with himself.