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Diedre nodded. ‘And I remember something else. Greta married an Englishman, an architect.’
‘That’s right, Roy Chalmers. Sadly he died of leukaemia about five years ago now.’
‘Just out of curiosity, is Greta a British citizen? It occurs to me that with an English mother and an English husband, she must have become one. Didn’t she?’
‘Yes, and she has a British passport.’
‘I’m glad to hear it, and that passport is important here, a necessity in wartime. It won’t help her family in any way, but I’m relieved to know she can’t be interned, anything like that.’
‘She could be if she were a German? Is that what you’re saying, Diedre?’
‘I am.’
‘Well, she’s all right, protected by her English nationality. Still, she has been talking about going to Berlin to check up on her father, assess the situation,’ Cecily murmured.
‘She mustn’t go! No, no, that’s dangerous.’
‘Perhaps I could go instead. What do you think?’
‘Absolutely not. I won’t let you. There’s something else … her father might well be under scrutiny. He’s a famous man, could easily be on a list of troublemakers, so called. Being watched and not knowing it.’
‘She’ll be very upset if that’s true,’ Ceci exclaimed.
‘Don’t tell her what I said. She must not know. And she certainly cannot go to Berlin.’ Diedre sounded stern as she continued. ‘Look, I’m sorry to be negative, but the situation in Berlin is worse than you can possibly know, or even imagine. It’s dangerous – full of thugs, foreigners and Nazis, a sinister city. No one is safe.’
Cecily nodded. ‘I understand. And I do make a point of listening to you. You’re the one who knows what’s going on there better than anyone else I know.’
‘A few months ago a new rule was made. Jews were forced to go and have their passports stamped with the letter “J” for Jew.’ Diedre said this quietly.
Cecily gaped at her, aghast. ‘What a hideous rule!’
‘Yes it is. Everything they do is hideous. No, horrific.’ Diedre leaned forward, coming closer to her sister-in-law, went on in a lower voice, ‘Hitler was made Chancellor of Germany in January of 1933, and only seven months later he built the first concentration camp. It’s called Dachau.’
‘Jews are interned in the camp. Is that its purpose?’
‘That’s right, it is. And so are others … Catholics, and dissident politicians, and anyone who doesn’t agree with the Nazi credo. Anti-Semitism is rife. Hatreds fester. Violence is paramount. And people are arrested for no reason at all.’ Diedre gave Cecily a long hard stare. ‘Hitler became a virtual dictator in January of 1933 and he means to swallow up as much of Central Europe as he can.’
‘Why? Power? Does he want to rule the world?’
‘Yes. But he also wants land, the blessed space, to breed his perfect race of Aryans. Lebensraum … that’s what he calls it … this dream of land, on which to create a master race.’
Cecily was pale, and her eyes were fastened on Diedre. ‘I don’t frighten easily, but what you’re telling me does make me worried,’ Cecily confided softly.
‘Worry if you want, Cecily, but don’t be afraid. We must all be brave and strong. And we must make sure not to have our necks under the German jackboot. That would be disastrous.’
Diedre paused. ‘Look, Ceci, please don’t repeat any of this to the family. I shouldn’t really have told you. I trust in your confidentiality and your loyalty to me.’
‘You know you can trust me. But could I tell Miles?’
‘Yes, you can. However, he must be discreet as well. No chitchatting with Charlotte and Papa. You must insist on that.’
‘I will.’ There was a slight hesitation before Cecily went on, ‘Yours is an office job, isn’t it? I mean, you’re not out there, are you? Out there doing … things?’
‘No, I’m not. I’m … well, let’s say I’m in management. Nevertheless, I have my own rules and I do not forget them.’
‘What are they? Can you tell me, Diedre?’
‘Believe no one. Tell no one. Remember everything. Walk alone.’
SIX (#ulink_c5af1162-1396-5a75-9f4d-c7c795c059a3)
Instinctively Harry Swann knew that something was wrong. Pauline had not been herself since his arrival at four o’clock, ostensibly for tea. They did actually have tea in her elegant drawing room. But it was swift. She was anxious always to retreat to her bedroom for several hours of intimacy and extraordinary passion.
Now, as he lay next to her in bed, their sexual appetite for each other sated, he tried to figure out why she had been so strange. Not remote, not distant, as she often was, rather she had been distracted. Or perhaps ‘preoccupied’ was a better word. Certainly he had picked up on it the moment he had entered her house and when she had greeted him coolly in the entrance foyer.
Even when they first began to make love, she had been less fervent than usual; but once he had begun to arouse her in the way she liked, she had become more focused. She was a voluptuous woman, extremely erotic and sensuous, eager for sex, hungry for it, and she oozed feminine lust. Her craving for him was enormous and endless; she gave herself willingly to him, did anything he wanted. It had been this way since the beginning of their affair and they never failed to give each other enormous sexual pleasure.
They had done that this afternoon but, instead of lingering in his arms, touching him, stroking him, murmuring loving words, she had moved on to her side at once, her back to him.
Puzzled and slightly hurt, he finally spoke. ‘What’s wrong, darling? You’ve turned away from me, and you’re very silent. Usually you’re full of love for me … after we’ve devoured each other. And we certainly did that a short while ago.’
There was a moment of silence before she said, ‘I’ve misled you … and I’m feeling guilty.’
Pushing himself up on one elbow, Harry brought her face around and looked down at her. ‘Guilty in what way?’
‘I let you think Sheldon was coming home tomorrow. He phoned at lunchtime today. He said he’d be here for dinner tonight. You’ve got to leave; you can’t linger as you generally do.’
Genuinely taken aback, Harry gaped at her for a moment, then got up and hurried across the room, making for the chair where his clothes were laid.
Pauline leapt off the bed and rushed after him, put her arms around him and pressed herself close to his body. ‘I can’t bear for you to leave like this. We always make love again before you leave. Always. Let’s do it now, here, standing up. Come on, I’ll lean against the door.’ She reached up, pulled his face down to hers and kissed him passionately. He responded; he never failed to do so with her. He felt himself growing hard but, just as he was about to succumb to her red-hot desire for him, his common sense kicked in.
‘No, no, we can’t. It’s too risky,’ he said firmly, glancing at his watch. ‘It’s almost six fifteen. Sheldon could be here any moment and we’d be caught red-handed.’
Pauline shook her head. ‘No, he won’t make it before seven, I’m certain of that.’ She leaned against the door, staring at him, her desire running high. She was hot with longing for him, had never wanted anyone like this, never loved any other man before him. And she knew she could not have him. Unexpected tears welled and she moved back and into his arms so he would not see them.
But he had. He held her tightly, stroked her long auburn hair. ‘Why are you crying?’
‘Because you’re angry with me … because I didn’t tell you he was coming home tonight,’ she lied. ‘Say you forgive me, Harry. Please.’
He looked down at her and smiled, touched her face with tenderness. ‘There’s nothing to forgive, my Pauline, my dearest love. I was startled, that’s all, not angry, never with you.’
Reaching for his clothes, Harry rushed over to her bathroom.
Pauline stood watching him moving across the bedroom, struck yet again by the beauty of his lithe body, and the tears came back, rolled down her cheeks. Slipping into her dressing room, she closed the door, stood for a moment wiping away her tears. Then she picked up a towel, placed it on the padded stool before sitting down.
They had made love several times this afternoon and she was full of him. He might have made her pregnant. She hoped so. But she was forty-eight. Too late, wasn’t it? She breathed deeply. The scent of his cologne, Jicky, and the smell of him was all over her.
She reached for a bottle of perfume, was about to spray herself, but changed her mind. She wanted his smell on her. There was a knock on the door and she went to open it.
Harry stood there, gazing at her. A slow smile slid across his face. ‘You look beautiful.’ He took hold of her arm, tightened his grip and brought her closer. ‘You’d better get dressed,’ he said, and asked, ‘Will you be alone next week?’
‘I suppose so.’ She touched his face gently. ‘I’ll phone you as soon as I can.’
Harry nodded and let go of her arm. And he was gone.
Pauline turned away from the door, dressed swiftly, attended to her hair and makeup. Usually she bathed after their love-making but not today. She wanted his seed in her, wanted his baby, yearned to have part of him for the rest of her life. A son or a daughter. It didn’t matter as long as it was his.
Pauline Mallard went downstairs to wait for Sheldon Faircross, her husband, knowing he would be arriving shortly. Crossing the floor of the library, she went to the drinks table and filled a glass with sherry. She stood for a moment, staring down into the pale liquid, her mind still on Harry Swann.
In some ways she regretted meeting him and having an affair with him, because he had, in a sense, ruined her life. She had fallen in love for the first time. That was verboten. And now she knew she would have to let him go. A divorce and remarriage was not in the cards. Harry could never be hers. She was in a trap.
When she had married Sheldon fifteen years ago, she had agreed to play by his rules. He would sort out the mess of her finances, created by her first two husbands. Both of them had spent a great deal of her inheritance from her father, the late Allan Mallard, one of America’s greatest tycoons.
With Sheldon’s help, her financial affairs were in better order, but she was not quite the great heiress she had once been. Nevertheless, she was by no means poor. And neither was Sheldon; he was a millionaire many times over.
Sheldon’s rules were very simple. A self-made man, he wanted the prestige of her name, her beauty and elegance, on his arm and at the head of his dinner table. He also demanded her total loyalty.
However, because he had no interest in her sexually, preferring young men, he had told her she could have her love affairs as long as she was discreet. Also, he had made her swear she would never reveal his own sexual predilection.
She had willingly agreed at the time. Not only did she have her own money intact again, she had the legitimacy of marriage to a well-known tycoon, a wonder on Wall Street, but also Sheldon’s great fortune to spend as she wished. And permission to have as many affairs as she wanted. Sheldon had made it clear that her dalliances with other men must be only sexual. No emotional entanglements, he had insisted. And until Harry, it had all worked. Now she wanted to marry Harry, be his wife, have his baby. And have Harry all to herself. He was the best lover she had ever had. And a lovely man.
Still staring into the sherry, she thought: I could walk away from Sheldon. He manages my money and has control of it. But money doesn’t matter to me. Harry will look after me.
Bringing the glass to her mouth, she swigged some of the sherry, and reminded herself that the money did matter to her. She had been born into it, enjoyed spending it, and she would miss it. If she were honest, she would also miss her life on the international scene. Harry would never enjoy that life; he might well be genuinely besotted with her, but he was devoted to Cavendon and the Inghams.
No way out, she thought, I’m stuck. And then she swung around as Sheldon said, ‘Good evening, Pauline. I see you’re alone.’
‘Hello, Sheldon, and naturally I’m alone.’
‘Harry’s just left though. I’m certain of that.’
Pauline merely nodded and walked over to the fireplace. Sheldon joined her, kissed her cheek. He went and poured himself a single malt and strolled across the room.
‘The affair must have run its course by now,’ Sheldon said, joining her on the sofa.
‘I suppose …’ was all she could say.
‘Harry has no doubt fallen in love with you. They all do, actually. But how do you feel about Harry?’
‘He’s been gentlemanly, caring. He’s a nice man.’
‘And great in the sack, I’ve no doubt. He wouldn’t have lasted this long with you if he hadn’t been hot to trot whenever you beckoned.’ Sheldon laughed.
Pauline was silent. She hated Sheldon’s weird outbursts of vulgarity and discussions about her affairs. She had frequently thought that he might get some sort of kick out of discussing them. In the way some men enjoy voyeurism.
When there was no response, Sheldon said, ‘I spoke to Tiger this morning. She’s invited us to stay with her at the château in Versailles. She’s giving a big summer party. We’re invited. And I accepted for us both.’
Pauline was momentarily startled, then said swiftly, ‘That’s great, Sheldon. She’s such a marvellous hostess.’
‘And she has great taste. In other guests. There’ll be a lovely group of delectable men and women staying for the long weekend.’
‘I see,’ Pauline murmured, realizing what he was getting at. After a brief pause, she asked, ‘How’s your Italian lover?’
Sheldon grinned at her. ‘He’s run his course. I’ve sent him back to Italy. I’m fancy-free, my darling, just like you.’
‘Am I fancy-free?’ Pauline raised a brow quizzically.
‘Of course. Harry has to go now, Pauline. It’s been too long, this affair, and it’s becoming serious. Remember, we have a deal, you’ll always be married to me, and I’ll safeguard your money, and you can have as many men as you want. Just think, Tiger is bound to have someone delicious lined up for you.’
Swallowing back incipient tears, Pauline said, ‘When is this party in Versailles? And are we going to Paris first?’
‘We’re leaving Harrogate on Sunday. We’ll go back to London for a few days. Paris next weekend, then on to Versailles.’
‘Good heavens, Sheldon, I can’t leave on Sunday. You’re only giving me tomorrow to pack!’
‘All you need is your jewellery and a few clothes. Mrs Heath will send on everything else. It doesn’t matter, really, because I intend to take you shopping to Chanel and Schiaparelli. I also have in mind a few new pieces of jewellery from Cartier as well.’
She nodded, forced a smile. ‘What great ideas you have, Sheldon,’ Pauline remarked, understanding that he was taking her away from Harrogate before she could see Harry again. Today was the end of their affair. Sheldon had just made sure of that.
As she sat there, listening to him talking about their Paris trip, she suddenly heard another voice at the back of her head. It was her late father, Allan Mallard, explaining that he never did anything without a lawyer at his side. A bevy of lawyers, if needs be. He had said that so many times. Warning her, she supposed.
I need a lawyer, maybe a bevy of lawyers, she thought. High-powered, Manhattan lawyers, with clout. They will help me to take back control of my life. My inheritance. A divorce from Sheldon. Then I can go to Harry. We can be married. The mere idea of this made her smile.
Sheldon, as usual scrutinizing her intently, said, ‘You look happy all of a sudden, Pauline. Why the smile?’
‘I was just thinking about the future …’ She let the sentence go unfinished, leaning back against the cushions.
‘Ah yes. Our trip to Versailles will be part of that. Tiger has promised us lots of fun.’
Pauline nodded, her mind racing, making plans to go to New York. She would not allow Sheldon to thwart her. He was about to get the shock of his life. Yet another happy smile spread across her face as she thought of Harry Swann and their future together.
SEVEN (#ulink_8fbb00d8-3992-53d1-ab9c-959dfc92cc1c)
Harry had left Harrogate behind and was driving north, heading for Cavendon, filled with relief that Pauline had revealed why she had acted so oddly this afternoon.
He chuckled to himself. How well she knew him after only a few months. If she had told him when he had arrived this afternoon that her husband was on his way back to Yorkshire, he would have left immediately. She had not wanted to forgo their tryst and so had kept it from him.
Pauline Mallard. What a unique woman she was. Stunningly beautiful, with her luxuriant dark auburn hair, pure white skin and amber-coloured eyes. She had a flair for clothes, and the money to buy the best, and consequently everyone stared at her wherever she went. She caused quite a stir. Women envied her looks; men undoubtedly lusted after her.
He loved her, was devoted to her, and if she finally agreed to divorce Sheldon Faircross, he would marry her at once. Not only were they well matched sexually, he enjoyed her company, found her extremely intelligent. Also, she was knowledgeable about so many things. She was a wonderful companion. And she made him laugh with her quirky sense of humour.
As he drove on he thought of a conversation he had had with his mother recently. To his surprise he had found himself confessing that he wanted to get married because he wanted children. Not one, or two, but lots.
How he envied Miles and Cecily with their little brood, and Daphne and Hugo with their five marvellous offspring.
That’s what life was all about, wasn’t it? Marrying a special woman and creating a wonderful family; a family to love and protect and cherish.
Harry winced as he remembered his mother’s comment after he had confided his wish for children. She had told him in a cold voice that his current lady-love was far too old for child-bearing; she had added that his secret love affair was about to go public.
