Voice of the Heart (68 page)

Francesca turned her head quickly and glanced out of the window, swallowing hard several times. Finally, when she was more composed, she said in as light a tone as possible, ‘Did Gus get off to London all right, Vic?’

‘Sure. We had an hour to waste in Harrogate, before the train left, since I beat a pretty hasty retreat from the hotel this morning. So I took your advice and we stopped off at the Old Swan Hotel for a coupla drinks. Nice little bar, like you said. Then I threw Gus onto the train looking as happy as a clam and glad to have the weekend off.’

‘Oh good. And I hope you haven’t been waiting too long for me.’

‘About twenty minutes. I studied the script, smoked a cigarette, but mostly I thought about the next few days.’ He chuckled, threw her a loving look. ‘I’ve got the whole week off, with nothing much to do until the unit moves back to the studios. A few meetings with Hilly at Monarch, but that’s about all. I sincerely hope you’re not planning to spend much time at the British Museum, baby.’

The prospect of a whole week alone with him sent her heart soaring, brought a glowing smile to her face. ‘No, I’m not. I’m all yours, my darling.’

‘You’d better be.’

Oh I am, I am, she thought, but said, ‘Incidentally, I’ve got some exciting news for you, Vic.’

‘Shoot, baby.’

‘Daddy ’phoned me from Cap Martin this morning, just after I’d spoken to you. He proposed to Doris. Finally. And she accepted. They’re getting married in November.’

‘Hey, that’s terrific. Really great. And knowing your feelings about Doris, I bet you’re as delighted as the future bride.’ He looked at her through the corner of his eye, and chorded with some hilarity. ‘So Diamond Lil pulled it off. Good for her.’

‘
Diamond Lil.
Is that your nickname for Doris?’ she asked with a small puzzled smile, although she was not particularly amused.

‘Not mine, baby, Katherine’s. A little bitchy maybe, but dead on target. Doris ain’t shy about flaunting her loot. Jesus, she was dripping diamonds from every pore the weekend we spent at the castle. I don’t know about you, kid, but I was blinded. Particularly after sunset.’

Francesca had to laugh. ‘We all were, but somehow Doris does carry it off rather well, you must admit.’ There was a sudden hesitancy in her manner, as she added, ‘Funny though, Katharine has never used that nickname with me.’

‘Maybe she thought you’d be offended.’ He reflected for a split second, and murmured, ‘There’s no love lost there, Ches.’

‘What do you mean?’ Francesca asked.

‘They don’t like each other,’ Victor pronounced bluntly. He shrugged and continued, ‘Don’t ask me why. I haven’t the vaguest idea, unless there’s a feeling of competition between them. Certainly Katharine seems to be wary of Doris, and she’s even been a bit scathing about her at times. As for Doris, she could be jealous of Katharine’s looks I suppose.’ He grimaced. ‘What the hell, who knows about women around other women.’ He swivelled his eyes, smiled at her. ‘I only know about you. You’re sweet with everyone. Anyway, I think Doris is a terrific broad. Your father’s damned lucky.’

‘Yes, he is. But why do you call Doris a broad? That doesn’t sound very complimentary to me.’

‘That’s the way I meant it though. One of your favourite writers, Mr E. Hemingway no less, said, and I quote, “I love tough broads but I can’t stand hard dames.” My sentiments exactly, and I wasn’t being rude or unkind about Doris. When I use the term
broad
I do so affectionately.’

‘Yes, I understand. And I know you and Doris hit it off immediately. But as for Katharine and Doris not liking each other, honestly, you’re wrong, Vic.’ As these words left her mouth Francesca remembered Katharine’s initial reaction to the news of the engagement. Was there perhaps an element of truth in Victor’s statement? No, she decided, Katharine was merely surprised, that’s all. She said, ‘
I
certainly haven’t seen any indications of dislike, and Doris has invited Kath to stay at the Villa Zamir.’

‘Did she accept?’ Victor cut in sharply.

‘Yes, and she seemed very pleased about the invitation.’

‘Then I guess I’m wrong,’ he commented in a softer tone, thinking sardonically: This is a helluva
volte face
on Katharine’s part. Doris’s too, for that matter. Or is
it simply the first sign of a truce? Nonetheless, he knew he was accurate about their mutual antipathy for each other.

Francesca was an uncomplicated and loving girl who believed the best about everyone. He realized now that her deep affection for both women blinded her to their true natures. ‘And how did Kim react?’

‘He’d already left for the day when Daddy rang up. He’ll get my note when he returns from Skipton later. And I will ’phone him tonight.’ Francesca settled back happily, half turned to face Victor, and added excitedly, ‘Doris is going to give a really super engagement party, a dance actually. You will come, won’t you, Vic?’

‘Sure,’ he replied, and then asked with a dry laugh, ‘Am I invited?’

‘You’re about to be, and so is Nicky, even though Doris doesn’t know him. I happened to mention you’d both be in the South of France around that time, and she seized on it immediately. She very much wants you to come. The trip to Beaulieu-sur-Mer
is
still on, isn’t it?’

Francesca had been unable to keep the nervousness and anxiety out of her voice, and Victor picked up on both immediately. ‘Sure it is, baby,’ he assured her. ‘Nick and I will be staying at La Réserve. I’ve already booked a couple of suites, as I told you I would. We’re going to have a terrific time this summer, Ches. Lots of sun and rest, also a little fun, a few parties, side trips up and down the coast. It’ll be great, kid,’ he enthused, forcing a lightness into his voice he did not feel. He had not anticipated these latest developments, nor Katharine’s presence on the Riviera, and he was now experiencing sudden qualms.
Oh Jesus
. More complications in his already complicated life. He suppressed a groan, swiftly cast aside the troublesome thoughts. Anything could happen between now and August. Speculating about the future was a futile occupation. His main interest was in the present, the next few days to be precise. He was not prepared to project beyond that length of time.

Francesca broke into his thoughts, when she said gaily, ‘The summer will be super, Vic, I just know it will, darling. It’ll be Königssee all over again, in fact.’

No, he thought, it won’t. But he said nothing. For a while he concentrated on driving, enjoying the feel of the Bentley, its smoothness, its speed and its power, and also revelling in the isolation and intimacy within the car. Without taking his eyes off the road, he said: ‘Listen, Ches, talking of Nick.
I’ve
got some great news for
you
. He’s arriving in London tonight. From New York. I thought we’d have dinner with him tomorrow. Okay, baby?’

‘Oh yes, Vic! It’ll be lovely to see him after all these weeks,’ she cried enthusiastically. ‘I can hardly wait. He’s been gone far too long.’

Victor chuckled. ‘Hey, slow down. Don’t get so carried away. You’re making me jealous.’ He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the palm lingeringly. ‘I can’t begin to tell you how much I’ve wanted you these last few days, Ches.’ He closed her fingers tightly, squeezed her hand, placed it back on her lap. ‘I’d better not get started on that particular subject, otherwise I’ll have to pull over and ravish you on the side of the road.’

‘I wouldn’t put anything past
you
,’ she joked, happiness and pleasure flowing through her.

‘You’re right, you shouldn’t, kid.’

‘You haven’t forgotten that Diana arrives tomorrow also, have you? I’ll have to go to the airport to meet her, darling.’

‘What do you mean
you’ll
have to go,’ Victor exclaimed. ‘We’ll
both
go. I’m not letting you out of my sight for the next week. Besides, I’m looking forward to seeing that lovely cousin of yours again. Hey, she’ll be able to join us for dinner with Nick.’ The boyish smile struck his mouth, and there was a mischievous note in his voice as he announced, ‘Know what? I bet you a hundred to one they take to each other just like that.’ He lifted his hand from the wheel, snapped his fingers in the air.

‘I wouldn’t dream of taking you up on that particular bet, Mr Mason,’ Francesca laughed. ‘In this instance you’re absolutely right.’ She lifted Lada onto her lap, edged closer to Victor, reached out to touch his hand on the wheel. ‘I’ve missed you so much, Vic. It’s been awful for me, too,’ she whispered, her longing for him echoing, her eyes overflowing with her love.

His sideward glance was penetrating and it betrayed his own emotions only too clearly. He took hold of her hand and brought it to his mouth again. He ran his lips over it. ‘I know, darling, I know. And it won’t be long now… we’ll soon be together.’

It was a little after two o’clock when Nick Latimer swung his Aston Martin DB2–4 through the gates of Shepperton Studios on Thursday afternoon in the first week of July. He parked next to Victor’s Bentley, turned off the ignition, and jumped out. After locking the door he stood back, gazing at the car admiringly. It had been waiting for him at the David Brown showroom in Piccadilly when he had returned to London ten days ago, an unexpected gift from Victor. He had been flabbergasted, and had exclaimed vehemently to Vic about his unparalleled extravagance.

Victor had reminded him that he had been hankering after this bit of high-powered machinery for the longest time, indecisive about buying it. ‘So I got it for you, old buddy,’ Victor had gone on. ‘Life’s too damned short to deprive ourselves of the few things which might give us a bit of pleasure in this tough world. I thought it would cheer you up.’ Touched by his friend’s thoughtfulness and understanding, Nick had accepted the car graciously, acknowledging that men like Victor Mason were a rare breed.

Nick patted the bonnet of the car appreciatively, and then loped across to the cluster of sound stages in the distance. They always reminded him of aeroplane hangars in appearance. Unpretentious on the outside; cold and utilitarian on the inside. Only there did they differ from aeronautical garages, filled as they were with complex equipment, plus armies of dedicated technicians and gifted artists striving to create a special kind of magic called motion pictures. Glamour factories. But like all factories, singularly unglamorous. Nonetheless, he enjoyed being on the set, derived a feeling of gratification and participation as he stood on the sidelines
watching, hearing his words take on meaning when the actors breathed life into them. As he walked, he straightened his tie, wondering how the morning had gone. This was the final day of shooting. At three o’clock Victor would walk out onto the set to do his last scene with Katharine Tempest and Terrence Ogden. It was a wrap. God willing, he muttered under his breath.

Since his return from New York, Victor had regaled him with innumerable stories about the shenanigans of the past few months, and he had listened in astonishment and morbid fascination, aware that Vic was not exaggerating when he pronounced it one of the most difficult pictures he had ever worked on. Nick was well aware that trouble went hand in hand with movie making, but it seemed to him that
Wuthering Heights
had had more than its share, had been cursed from its very inception. When he had been out at the studios on Tuesday he had witnessed first hand a few tense little contretemps, and both Jake Watson and Jerry Massingham had confirmed that the explosive atmosphere was nothing if not normal. Also, from what he had heard from the two production executives, everyone would be delighted when the last frame was shot, the missing footage in the can. All would walk away relieved that this particular ensemble was breaking up.

A regrettable ending, Nick thought sadly. To him, perhaps the most marvellous thing about making a movie was the camaraderie that developed between those involved; the sense of an intimate close-knit family, of unselfish collaborative effort and teamwork that generally evolved over a period of time. According to Jake, only Victor’s diplomacy, his stupendous efforts to smooth ruffled feathers on a continuing basis, plus his constant words of encouragement and praise, had kept things together and under reasonable control.

‘Pip pip! Toot toot! Hi there, Nicholas.’

He recognized the shrill voice at once, and swallowing his dismay he turned around. ‘Hello, Estelle,’ he said, staring
at the approaching figure, trying to conceal his aversion behind a smile that was bland if not particularly friendly. ‘How are you?’

‘In the pink, thanks much. I’m also footloose and fancy free at the moment. Are you, my darling?’ she simpered.

‘I’m all tied up right now, Estelle.’

‘What a shame, my love. I’ve always thought we’d make sweet music together. I can almost hear the clickety-click of our twin typewriters.’

Nick winced and retorted, ‘People in the same profession should never be foolish enough to get involved. It doesn’t work. You know what they say—there’s only room for one star in the family.’

‘
Touché
,’ she giggled, and tucked her arm through his possessively, making eyes at him. He said, in a kinder tone, ‘I guess you’re here for the wrap party later.’

‘Oh yes, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. And I thought I might. I just got back in time—from the Côte d’Azur. I was down there for the wedding.’

‘Wedding?’

‘Good God, Nick, where have you been? Grace Kelly’s wedding, dum-dum, you know, to Prince Rainier of Monaco.’

‘Oh sure, I forgot.’ He laughed lightly. ‘Ah well, another promising career curtailed, just when it was reaching its peak.’

‘Grace is going to make more movies, I’m sure of that.’

‘I doubt it. And more’s the pity. I always thought she had something very special. I like her cool, pristine beauty. My blood type,’ he grinned, and instantly saw vivid images of Francesca and Diana, who, each in their different ways, possessed this same quality in appearance. He disentangled his arm from her tight grasp, opened the heavy steel door of Stage Three, ushered her in, and said, with a forced smile, ‘See ya, Estelle.’