Secrets From the Past (39 page)

I began to laugh, and told Harry about Cara’s story, adding, ‘And she said Val had put the cat among the pigeons when she got engaged to Jacques.’

‘Oh God, Granny’s old sayings did seem to appeal to Cara. I can’t believe she still uses them.’ Harry grimaced but his eyes twinkled.

‘Oh yes, she certainly does.’ I paused, sipped the water. ‘Another question. Is that okay?’ I said.

He inclined his head, gave me one of his loving smiles.

‘Why do you think Dad took those pictures of Val when she was pregnant?’

‘Honestly, Serena, I have no idea. I was never aware he had taken them, posed her in that condition. I’ve wondered about it myself, since you showed them to me. I finally came to the conclusion that Val herself wanted them.’

‘Maybe you’re right. One other thing. Did Jacques ever know anything about … the situation?’

‘Absolutely not! No one did. Except for the four of us, plus the doctor and the nurse. It was an enormous secret and we all kept it,’ Harry finished.

One of the waiters came over, and Harry ordered Bellinis. Then we looked at the lunch menu, ordered green salad and little fried fish with lemons. As usual, I followed Harry’s lead.

It was towards the end of lunch that Harry’s BlackBerry began to buzz, and he answered it at once. ‘Hello, Yusuf,’ he said, speaking in a low voice. That was all he said. He just sat and listened attentively for a few minutes and then told Yusuf he would call him back shortly.

Clicking off the BlackBerry, Harry looked across at me, and said, ‘Zac wants to come out.’

‘
Oh.
’ I sat back in my chair, trying to read Harry’s expression. But it was bland, told me nothing.

‘Why does he want to come out? Now?’ I asked. ‘It’s going to be an interesting time, what with the rebel militias starting to make gains.’

‘He told Yusuf he had lost his concentration. That he couldn’t properly focus any more because of your terrible quarrel. He believes he’s lost his edge.’

‘Zac said he’d lost his edge when he came out of Afghanistan. And he had,’ I reminded him.

Harry threw me a penetrating look. ‘And did he get his edge back in Libya?’

‘Yes, he did, and so did I. It’s funny how everything suddenly kicks in again, and you’re really on top of it, and working at your best. But then you know that better than I do, Harry, you’ve been there, and long before I was.’

‘Yusuf is arranging a private jet for Zac, and we’ll have him out tomorrow.’

I simply nodded.

Harry went on, ‘The thing is, Zac told Yusuf that he wanted to come here to Venice and—’

‘Oh God!’ I exclaimed, cutting across Harry. ‘It’ll be a bit crowded in the bolthole, don’t you think?’

‘Oh no, he doesn’t want to come to the bolthole, Serena. He asked Yusuf to get him a room at the Bauer. He apparently doesn’t want to intrude on you. However, he does want to see you, to discuss what happened in Tripoli.’

I was silent.

Harry leaned closer, and gave me a direct look. ‘Don’t you want to see him, honey? Just tell me what you want, and I’ll arrange it. The jet can fly him to Rome, Paris, London, wherever he wants to go, and from there he can make a connection to New York.’

‘I suppose I ought to see him. Everything was left sort of hanging in the air … he stalked out, I didn’t call him back, and then I left without talking about what happened. I’d better meet with him.’

‘I agree with you, Serena. See him, talk to him, and if you’re going to end it with Zac, do so in a civilized way. You’ll feel better later if you keep your dignity.’

‘I’m still mad at him – actually rather angry, Harry. Because he behaved so badly. He was juvenile, and there are a few things I have to get off my chest.’ I became tense in the chair, my face taut.

He smiled at me, leaned closer, kissed my cheek. ‘I know you so well, and you’ll handle it properly. And just remember this, do the right thing for
you
. It’s your life I’m concerned about, not anyone else’s. All right, honey?’

I grabbed his hand, held onto it. ‘Oh, Harry, whatever would I do without you? You’re my rock. And I’ll be fine, seeing him. So call Yusuf back right now and make the arrangements. Before I change my mind.’

A moment later, Harry was talking to Yusuf in Tripoli. He said, ‘Okay. We’re on. Serena has agreed to meet Zac. What time is he getting in?’ Harry listened for a moment and then said, ‘I’ll tell her that, and tell him to stay at the Bauer. And come to the bolthole around six o’clock. Confirm everything with me, and thanks, Yusuf.’

On Friday evening I paid careful attention to my appearance. I took time doing my hair and makeup, and put on the slim red silk dress. After spraying myself with my favourite Ma Griffe, I added Cara’s fake pearl necklace and earrings. Then I stepped into a pair of black patent high-heeled shoes.

Standing in front of the long mirror, I nodded to myself. My need to look good when confronting Zac was part pride, part upbringing. Mom had always drilled it into Jessica, Cara and me that we should look great and go out there and ‘kill ’em’, as she said. Her theory was that people were genuinely intimidated and impressed by appearance, voice and demeanour. Looking great, sounding good, and acting elegantly gave a woman the upper hand, she believed. And I did too.

Glancing at my watch, I saw that it was fifteen minutes to six. That was when Zac was due at the bolthole. Glancing at myself once more, I went out into the living room, seeking Harry’s approval.

He turned around when he heard the clicking of my high heels on the wood floor, and was obviously startled for a moment. Then he said, ‘Good girl! You look wonderful, Serena. You’ll knock him dead.’

I smiled, and reminded him who my teacher had been. ‘That’s what Mom taught us – to go out there and knock ’em dead. The last time Zac saw me, I was kneeling on a bathroom floor, cleaning it, and I looked a mess. I was sweating, had blood on my legs, and wet hair. That was his last memory of me, Harry.’

‘And if you break up with him tonight, he’ll have quite a different memory of you, won’t he, Serena? The glamour puss personified, not the cleaning woman, and—’

‘Oh, God, do you think I’ve overdone it, Harry?’ I broke in. ‘Shall I go and take Cara’s fake pearls off? Or the high heels?’

‘I don’t want you to change a thing. You look perfect … and perfectly beautiful.’ He walked over to me and kissed my cheek, and then stood staring at me.

I saw his eyes grow moist as he added, ‘You think you don’t look like Elizabeth, but you do, sometimes. It’s a certain gleam in your eyes, an expression on your face – you remind me of her a lot.’

‘Zac has said that, and I think it’s probably a family resemblance. I have a bit of Granny in me, and she was Great Aunt Dora’s twin …’ I let my voice trail off, then asked, ‘So what’s the plan of action?’

‘When Zac arrives I shall offer him a drink, chat with you both for a short while, and then excuse myself. I’ll amble off, disappear, and you and he can be alone. That’s the only way this situation can be handled. You don’t need an audience.’

‘That’s true.’ I went over to the ice bucket on the table, lifted out the bottle of white wine, poured us both a drink. I said, in a confiding tone, ‘I do love Zac, and I suppose I always will. The thing is, can I live with him?’

‘That’s always the million-dollar question, Serena.’ Harry picked up the glass of wine. ‘Keep an open mind. Let him do the talking first. Remember, he’s the one who asked to see
you
.’

‘I will. Listen, Harry, you look dashing tonight. Very much so. Do you have a date?’

He burst out laughing. ‘Who with, for God’s sake? So no, I don’t, but I’m going down to Harry’s Bar to have a drink with Amos Haversmith, who retired here some years ago. You remember him; your mother always liked his paintings. I usually give him a call when I’m here.’

‘I do remember, and I know where you’ll be if I need you.’ I sat down, took a sip of my drink. ‘I can’t believe all that stuff that’s happening at the Rixos. It’s just awful. Frightening.’

‘It sure as hell is. Yusuf was smart, and made all the right moves, as usual. He’s got such a knack for that.’

There was a knock on the door. I stood up instantly, went over to the TV, hovering there, suddenly feeling nervous.

Harry opened the front door, and exclaimed, ‘Zac! Hello! Come on in, I’m glad you made it out of Libya okay. And just in time. You had a narrow escape.’

The two of them embraced.

‘I know I did,’ Zac responded, and began to walk towards me, then hesitated, stopped in the middle of the floor.

His face was serious, but he looked healthy. I smiled inwardly, because he too was well dressed tonight, wearing a pale blue shirt, navy jeans, and the brown penny loafers.

I felt that same rush of excitement I experienced whenever I saw him after an absence, and hoped he wouldn’t hear my heart thudding.

I gave him a quick peck on the cheek, stepped back. I said, ‘Would you like a glass of wine?’

‘Thanks, I would,’ he answered and turned to Harry. ‘What a fluke it was that Yusuf decided to move us from the Rixos to the Corinthia. If he hadn’t, I certainly wouldn’t be standing here tonight. I’d be one of the hostages in the Rixos, and so would Yusuf and the lads.’

Harry said, ‘I was stunned when I heard about it on the news this afternoon. Over thirty journalists being held, not allowed to leave. It’s madness. Those loyalist Gaddafi soldiers waving around Kalashnikovs don’t seem to understand that there’s a ceasefire.’

‘What I worry about is that most of the hotel staff have fled the Rixos. There’s no one to run anything. It could develop into a dangerous situation. The hotel won’t be operating properly,’ Zac pointed out.

‘You’re not kidding.’ Harry sat down, and so did I, next to him. Zac took the other chair. We went on chatting about this unexpected and serious development at the hotel in Tripoli. Harry was right. Zac, Yusuf and the lads had really had a narrow escape.

Zac crossed his legs and, turning to Harry, explained, ‘There’s got to be some intervention. Maybe by the Red Cross. Or perhaps one of the rebel militias. I just hope there’s no bloodshed. About thirty-five journalists held captive in the Rixos, and to what purpose?’

Harry announced, ‘It gives us a taste of what might happen once this civil war is over. Chaos.’

‘Jesus, I daren’t think about it,’ Zac exclaimed, and took a swig of wine.

Harry had left and we were alone.

I was relieved I was in a chair, and not on the sofa. I didn’t want Zac to come and sit next to me. I had felt that sexual pull towards him when he had walked into the bolthole. And immediately. There was something about him that was irresistible. He excited me, made me want to be with him. In every way.

Remembering what Harry had told me, I didn’t say a word. I just sat there, sipping my drink. My long silence finally forced him to speak first.

His head on one side, his eyes riveted on me, he said in a soft voice, ‘You look wonderful, Serena. So you must be feeling better.’

‘I am. Harry’s been spoiling me all this week, and generally fussing over me. He reminds me of Dad.’

‘I know what you mean. Can I have another drink?’

‘Of course.’

‘Thanks.’ He went over to the table and poured the wine. ‘How about you?’ he asked without turning around.

‘No thanks,’ I said, swallowing hard. I hoped he wasn’t just going to sit there, guzzling the wine. I wanted to get on with it, discuss what had happened in Tripoli, and be finished with the whole messy affair.

Returning to the chair, Zac put the glass on the coffee table. He said, ‘I know you’re angry with me, and I don’t blame you. I behaved like a shit. I have no real excuse for my behaviour. I was rude, nasty, unfeeling and cruel to you; showed no love or affection whatsoever. And I’m sorry. So very sorry, Serena.’

I didn’t answer, I just sat there like a statue. Immobile. I wanted to make him understand I was not going to be a pushover. I would be relentless.

He said, ‘I’d been drinking when I came up to check on you that night. I just wasn’t myself.’

‘Yes, you were yourself,’ I shot back, my voice cold. ‘Because you repeated the way you behaved last year, after my father’s funeral in Nice. There was violence in you then, Zac. And again last weekend. That undercurrent of violence frightens me. Because I don’t know what brings it on.’

He shook his head. He had turned pale, and his green eyes were stricken. It struck me that he didn’t know how violent he could be, and perhaps it frightened him, too.

Finding his voice, he said, ‘But I’m not a violent person, Serena, and you know that. I’ve never struck you, never hurt you. Or any other woman. Only cowardly men strike women. I’m not a coward.’

‘What you say is true. So let me amend what I said. You
sound
violent. You seem to have a pent-up fury inside you. And so it makes me expect a violent act from you. It’s an awful feeling, scary.’

‘Maybe it’s the booze. I guess I should watch my intake,’ he muttered, starting to reach for the wine and pulling back, leaving the glass on the table.

‘You shouldn’t drink at all, in my opinion,’ I said icily, giving him a hard stare.

‘Why not?’

‘Because you have PTSD, and abstinence is better for you right now. I think booze fuels the anger you’re feeling because of all you’ve witnessed in war zones.’

‘Maybe you’re right. I sound violent perhaps, but I never would do anything to hurt you or anyone else. As for the front lines, I’m never going to set foot on a battleground again. It’s over for me. I’m retiring from war.’

‘You said that when you came out of Afghanistan. But as soon as I’d helped you to get better, you got all excited about the Arab Spring, and just had to rush off to Libya, because your adrenaline was high and you wanted to be in the middle of it all.’

‘I know. I broke my promise to you. I’m so sorry about everything: breaking my promise, screaming at you, showing no compassion. I guess I just lost it, and the drink didn’t help.’ There was a sorrowful look on his face and he had tensed in the chair.

I was taken by surprise when I noticed, suddenly, the tears glittering in his eyes. But I made no comment. After a long moment of silence, I finally said, ‘You never gave me a chance to explain anything. You stalked off in a fury, treated me like dirt.’