Crimson (45 page)

“That dress was designed to be taken off.” Adam held Iter by the shoulders; through the gauze, he could feel her Warm flesh. As he pulled her against his body, she breathed in -kis body scent and felt his excitement.

“How I’ve missed you.” he murmured as his hands slowly moved down her Uck and then traced the swell of her buttocks.

Hungrily Miranda groped for his body; her knees shook i4d, together, they fell upon the thick cream carpet, where, Wordlessly, they came together again.

Towards dawn, Miranda no longer knew whether or not Ac was dreaming, as she felt Adam’s flesh against hers and inhaled the pungent almond smell of love; by the dying embers of the drawing-room fire, she could just see his face.

Sleepily Adam whispered, 11 find it an extraordinarily erotic idea.”

“What?” “To be in bed with a self-made millionairess.”

“But we aren’t in bed, darling.”

“Let’s get there quickly. There are things I must do to you.”

SATURDAY, 19 AUGUST 1967

Outside, the sun beat down on the red baked earth of Provence, but the summer salon was cool. A Scrabble board lay on the floor, a reminder that so far this year Buzz was beating Elinor by 147 to 17. Miranda, in black linen shorts and halter top, lay with her feet up on the terra cotta-coloured sofa, enjoying her idleness. She yawned and stretched; she wished her siesta could have lasted until the following morning no, the following week.

The SUPPLY KITS interim dividend had been seven per cent an excellent figure but in spite of this satisfying result, Miranda still fretted about her neglect of KITS. After the SUPPLY KITS flotation, the analysts, investors, and competitors had taken a much closer look at the company. An exhausted Miranda found that instead of having more time, she had almost a full-time job keeping present and future shareholders informed and happy: she prepared official reports, gave institutional and pension-fund presentations, attended city lunches, and made time in her overfilled schedule for the financial press. Overworked and depressed, she felt as if she were being turned into a glamorous business machine.

Miranda sniffed the heavy scent of the lilies; in the flower room beyond the bar, she could hear Elinor and Buzz talking as they made their way slowly into the summer salon. A maid arrived with the tea tray as soon as they sat down.

“Cucumber sandwiches.” Buzz nodded approvingly.

“And chocolate eclairs.” Miranda yawned again.

“Buzz, I can’t understand how you can eat anything after these huge, delicious French lunches. The others are still working it off on the tennis court.”

“Not me.” Adam sauntered into the room.

The maid put down the tea tray and fished in the pocket of her dress. Vne lettre par courier pour Mademoiselle Mann.”

“For meT Buzz was puzzled.

“Nobody sends me letters by courier. An American stamp…” As she turned the letter over, her face became eager and younger.

“It’s Bertha Higby!”

Since the death of her fiance nearly fifty years ago, Buzz had continued to correspond with his mother. Every year, Ginger’s parents travelled to France to visit his grave, sometimes accompanied by Buzz. Now eighty-seven years old and recently widowed, Mrs. Higby remained in Cleveland.

Buzzreadthe short letter. “Oh! … Oh … But I couldn’t..

“What is it? Elinor asked, teapot suspended.

“Eric left a bigger windfall than Bertha expected. She says at her age, she might not have long to enjoy it. She says she’s spent her life living modestly, as Eric wanted, b t now she wants to blow a bit of it on some fun … Strewthl She wants to take a luxury winter cruise … next “January … Six weeks on the Stella Polaris. Round the Caribbean islands and South America, until the end of February … and she wants me to be her guestf “Why did she send it by courier?” Miranda asked, “She wants a quick reply, to book our passages.”

“Then why didn’t she telephone?” “Such extravagance! Eric would turn in his urn. Anyway, “i ‘tts out of the question. I couldn’t leave Elinor on her own.”

“I don’t need a chaperon, you old fool.” Elinor handed Buzz a cup of strong Indian tea.

“I can do without you for six weeks, Buzz. Perhaps I’ll get a bit of peace, for a change.”

“No. Six weeks is too long to be away,” Buzz said, blowing on her tea to cool it.

Adam said, “Elinor has five servants here, three secretaries, and a doctor almost within shouting distance. Perhaps it’s time you had a real rest, Buzz.”

“I agree,” said Miranda.

“I don’t need a rest.” Buzz was affronted.

“Of course you don’t,” Adam soothed.

“But I expect Elinor feels that as your friend is eighty-seven, she probably shouldn’t be travelling alone.”

“That’s for sure,” Elinor said seriously.

“A nd I do think you need a rest from me, Buzz. It’s two years since my … er … incident and you’ve hardly had a day off ever since you’ve fussed around me like a mother hen. How long is it since you’ve seen Her thaT “Four years,” Buzz said.

“They came for a weekend just before we left Starlings.”

“We could easily arrange for a nurse to be here during your absence,” Adam suggested.

“Fiddlesticks! I don’t need a nurse!” Elinor said.

“You need somebody,” Buzz said firmly.

“And she’ll have to sleep in my bedroom because it’s nearest to yours.” Elinor smiled at Adam.

“Tell the trustees that Buzz must have a bonus, Adam. She’ll need to keep her end up on a luxury cruise.”

Adam pulled a notebook from his trouser pocket. As he scribbled, he said, “By the way, Elinor, Paul Littlejohn has decided to leave STG, Bermuda. He’s setting up his own firm there.”

“What a nuisance!” Elinor said.

“Why does he want to do th at?” “For much the same reason as I did. I’m afraid that STG no longer as reliable as it was in my grandfather’s day. I’ve never regretted leaving. In fact, it was a great relief.”

“Butwho will superintend my work in future?”

Elinor asked.

“That is a problem,” Adam admitted, “although, of course, we could transfer our affairs to Paul’s new firm. We know that he can handle everything.” Buzz looked-disapproving.

“Why not?” Adam said casually.

“He could avoid mistakes and the need to brief someone else. But there’s no need to stake a decision yet. Paul has to give six months” notice to STG, so he won’t be leaving until well after Christmas probably in February.”

“Plenty of time to think about it carefully,” Elinor said.

“Another cup of tea, Buzz? Tell us more about this cruise.”

SATURDAY, 3 FEBRUARY 1968

A week after the affairs of the Dove Trust had been transferred to Littlejohn and Partners Bermuda, Adam surprised Elinor with .a trip to Saracen for the weekend. Every time his plane touched down at Nice airport and he saw palm trees and tanned porters in white, short-sleeved shirts, Adam enjoyed afresh the glamour of a life where one stepped on to a plane in bleak winter weather and shortly afterwards stepped off in warm sunshine.

That evening, he and Elinor drank aperitifs in the summer salon.

Adam pointed to a pair of elaborately carved chairs in cinnamon-coloured wood, inset with ivory.

“Are those newT “Yes. Found them at my pet antiques dealer in Cannes. Eighteenth century, from Goa, made for some rich Portuguese trader. I also snapped up those two new chairs in the kall the ones with angels” faces carved on the back: really too good for family use, but I couldn’t resist them.”

“What did they cost?” “Too much to tell you, dear boy,” said Elinor gaily. As Adam refilled his glass, Elinor said, “I never realized how much I’d miss Buzz. How she’ll crow when I tell her! She’s obviously having a wonderful time. Every day, I get a postcard from some tropical place called Brown Sugar Island or Crab Cove. She says there are no men on board the ship is full of hopeful widows but the crew are wonderful and she’s friendly with the purser, who dances a mean Charleston.”

Adam sipped his drink.

“As well as a winter break, there’s another reason for my visit, Elinor, but I didn’t want to alarm you unnecessarily by discussing it over the telephone.” Elinor sensed trouble.

“It’s the new book contract,” Adam went on.

“The publishers would feel … happier … if they had a medical all clear before signing. They know it’s been over two years since your illness, but they’d appreciate reassurance. They’re all overjoyed about it, but before they make their plans and get the sales force excited, they want to be … quite sure … that you are … completely fit.”

“It’s not as though I were writing a new book,” Elinor said crossly.

“The boxed set is a reissue.”

“Yes, but you agreed to promote it, “Adam said patiently

“And before they spend vast sums on the publicity launch, they’d like to know that it won’t be too much for you.”

“I feel fit as a fiddle,” Elinor protested.

“Elinor, this is a reasonable business precaution to take,” Adam persisted.

“Film stars, sports stars everyone in businesses where heavy investment depends on the health of one person know that a regular medical check is considered a reasonable and professional precaution.” Adam knew that Elinor would go to great lengths to avoid being called unprofessional.

0k, well, if it’s only a medical check, I can go to that eric an nursing home at Cannes.”

“They’d prefer British medical reports.”

“Oh dear. How long will it tak eT “Perhaps four days.”

“A pity Buzz isn’t here. Although she’d only fuss if she She doesn’t like the London Clinic. Noisy place, she thinks.”

“You can be there and back before Buzz returns,” Adam Said.

“And you needn’t go to the London Clinic. I’ll arrange for the best possible care. As you say, you aren’t ill so your friends will be able to visit you. Life will be one long party, with a matron to shoo people away, should you get tired or bored. And the night you leave, I’ll take you to the theatre.”

“You make it sound quite fun, dear boy. Could you see that there are a few crates of champagne those half bottles so convenient for visitors.”

“I’ll arrange everything,” Adam promised.

SATURDAY, 10 FEBRUARY 1968

One week later, as the plane took off from Nice for London airport, Adam outlined his arrangements to Elinor.

“Eastbourne!”

she exclaimed.

“Why Eastbourne?”

“Elinor you sound like Dame Edith Evans saying, “A handbag?” in Ac Importance of Being Earnest. Eastbourne isn’t the Gorbals,” Adam said easily.

“Eastbourne has the highest sunshine rate in Britain.”

“I can get plenty of sunshine at Saracen. And I’m not on any last legs yet, thank you very much! Eastbourne is filled with nursing homes in Victorian mansions with names like “The Gables”.”

“And that is why the best specialists for this sort of mediad check-up are in Eastbourne,” Adam said persuasively.

“It’s only for a few days, Elinor, and it’s just an hour and a half away from London. There will be plenty of flowers and books, delicious food, TV and a telephone…” Elinor pursed her lips.

“You should not have made these arrangements without my approval, Adam!”

Adam looked contrite. He said, “I can, of course, cancel them should you wish, but Sir George is undoubtedly the best-qualified heart specialist in the country. And he himself told me that the Lord Willington Nursing Home is the most professional of the local nursing homes. Dr. Craig Dunlop who owns it, prides himself on having all the latest equipment.”

“Oh well, I suppose it won’t hurt me for a couple of days. Stop fretting, dear boy.” With the South Downs behind it and the turbulent grey English Channel in front, the Lord Willington Nursing Home looked like a country mansion. As she stepped from her Rolls, Elinor shivered in the unaccustomed raw air of February.

Inside, a faint whiff of disinfectant was almost overpowered by the heavy scent emanating from bowls of blue, hyacinths. A smiling receptionist apologized for the matron’s absence.

After Elinor had signed her voluntary consent form, she and Adam were taken to her suite of rooms. But for the mechanical hospital bed, she might have been in a firstclass hotel: the sitting room was agreeably furnished in eau-de-Nil, the bedroom in old rose; the interconnecting rooms faced the sea over lawns and flower beds, though they were bleak at this time of the year.

Elinor read the cards from two identical large vases of” lilies which took up all the space on the dressing table. She laughed.

“One is from Miranda, one from Annabel. They both know I love lilies.”

Adam smiled.

“Miranda wanted to be with you today, but Dr. Craig-Dunlop wants you to settle in quickly, with no excitement. Your tests start tomorrow. Miranda wants to know as soon as you’re allowed visitors. Annabel has already telephoned three times, but I’ve asked her not to call again, in case she disturbs a treatment. It’s best if you call her.” Coffee was served in the sitting room right after their arrival. Then a smiling procession of medical staff presented themselves, each of whom told Elinor that if there was anything she wanted, she had only to ask. Finally she was given an enormous burgundy leather bound folder that looked like some medieval city charter: it was the menu.

“Don’t worry, dear boy,” Elinor said over a glass of champagne poured from one of the little bottles.

“I can see they’re going to look after me really well.”

“I’m sure of it.” Adam smiled as he lifted his glass in a toast.

On the following day, Elinor’s door was thrown open by a nurse who then stood to attention as, smiling benignly, Matron Ivy Braddock appeared in the doorway.

Elinor’s first astonished impression was that Matron Braddock looked like a female impersonator a sergeant or in drag: she couldn’t wait to describe her to Buzz. The matron was one of the biggest women Elinor had ever “ieen; her neck seemed sunk between strong shoulders, and red hands hung from beefy arms. Her face looked rough-hewn, as if carved from a cliff. Her yellow hair was cut very short, and on it, like a cake frill, perched a nurse’s cap, tied beneath the square jaw. The matron moved towards Elinor’s bed on legs that seemed to be joined to her feet without ankles: she did not walk so much as stomp. We going