Special Relationship (39 page)

“He's eighty whatever, that's outrageous Alex.”

“No, this is outrageous Nick,” she replied as her tongue probed further.

Later in the evening they showered together and then cuddled up to listen to jazz and to plan their own arrangements for the Ashton's event the next Saturday.

They decided that they'd travel alone, or at least alone bar Christos and Jamie, the bodyguard, who Nick insisted was necessary to appease any of his investors there.

“Katherine will send another car to travel a different route or different time with Kerry and her family. Don't want to look like we are heading a Royal cavalcade, do we?”

“We certainly don't,” she replied before they fell asleep still huddled together on the sofa.

When the big day arrived, Kerry must have been more nervous than any of the those invited. She didn't want to let Alex down and wasn't practised in making conversation with VIPs, nobility or even very wealthy people like Nick.

“Are you ready, yet?” she called to Luke half an hour before the car was due to arrive.

“Ten minutes,” he said.

“It's just the weekend and we are staying one night,” Nick reminded Alex as she queued bags and cases by the lift.

“I'm a bit scared,” she said.

“Well don't be, you know the hosts, you know me;
Tavis and Katherine will be there, and Kerry. And you can tell the politicians to fuck off. Oh, and I think that actress from the film we saw the other day will be there. You can tell her she must be sore from the casting couch, and that the film was dire.”

Christos had never been nervous in his life, Alex guessed, as he drove them down the motorway with Jamie following behind. “Anyone important here today?” he asked his boss.

“Yeah, you are driving her, CG,” he replied, rubbing her leg.

Alex caught Christos's grin in the rear view mirror.

“Jesus,” she remarked as they arrived at the Ashton estate. “This would take up a large chunk of London.” Brockhurst House, a grand white stone home set in acres of grassland broken up only by a number of sprawling oak trees and a vast lake, was not what she expected of an English stately home. “It's huge and very unusual-looking,” she remarked.

“Regency period,” he said. “A time of great excess when they tended not to follow what had gone before. They got pissed and built grand avant-garde homes. It took their minds off Napoleon.”

Trying to put her at ease, he added: “Just remember, it's all inherited.”

Those words became a mantra throughout the weekend as, in turn, Alex tried to calm Kerry but it was the Lord and Lady themselves who did most to make a woman whose parents had brought her up on a social housing estate in a rough part of London, most comfortable.

“It's open to the public most of the year, Kerry,” Lady Ashton told her. “We get to use it a few days a year. Far too big run for us old people and we'd need a very big overdraft facility.”

She and Luke were then invited to “evening drinks” and were soon won over by The Lord's buffoonery act. Nick and Alex attended too and the woman discussed what a likeable couple the nobles were. “What's not to like?” Kerry said. “They might have got lucky – accident of birth and all that – but you have to admire their class.”

“Guess you shouldn't judge people by the amount of money they have wherever it came from," Alex remarked.

“As you now know only too well,” replied Kerry, glancing at a rotund man with red cheeks, a food morsel in one hand and drink in the other.

“Isn't he in the government?” she asked.

She then whispered “You know, we have even got a fucking butler.” Several minutes passed before they were able to downgrade their laughter into mere fits of giggling.

Many of the guests were attending one day or the other. But some, including Kerry and her family, were staying overnight. Nick and Alex settled into a room named after one Captain Alfred Walsingham who, he explained, was a forefather of Henry's who had gallantly died in action against the Russians in the Crimean War in the 1850's.

“Pity,” she said, looking at a
Field Electric Telegraph
informing his wife, a baroness, of the death of the Captain.

“What?”

“Well, be a bit disrespectful...” she turned, smiled and moved closer to him.

“The Victorians had sex too, you know, in copious amounts I understand,” he said as he pulled her towards him.

The next morning he woke her early. “Wash and dress, there is something I want to show you.”

After she had castigated him for
the early call - “this had better be good” - and had got herself ready, he led her to the back of the house and into a shed which housed a range of vintage cars. “Henry has never driven it himself but he assures me this in full working order.” he said, dangling some keys in front of a Jaguar mk9.

“Well at least we won't stand out,” she said ironically, looking at the big blue and grey saloon which reminded of her police cars from British movies of the
60's.

“Why did you think I woke you so early. With a bit of luck, no one will spot us.”

“Where are we going?”

“You'll see.”

“I prefer automatic,” he said, clunking the gears. “Lucky we haven't got far to go.”

When they arrived at the destination, Alex was speechless. She had been captivated by the beauty of
Bodiam Castle when she'd seen it in magazines but in real life her imagination ran riot. That misty morning she almost expected a knight in armour to come riding towards them, demanding to be told the purpose of their visit.

“It's absolutely...magical,” she finally said, looking in awe at the 14
th
century fortress.

“I arranged
the mist specially,” he joked, rubbing her shoulder. They then huddled together against the cold air before she turned again to look at the castle.

“You know, Nick, somewhere near here...” She paused and he waited, knowing what she was about to say “...for Megan
.”

“Are you sure?
” he asked, raising her chin.

“Yes, I'm sure.”

Afternoon tea took place in the Balaclava Apartment where as many as fifty guests gathered to mingle and chat and enjoy the quintessential English experience of tea, accompanied by sandwiches, scones, pastries, cakes, fruit and cream. This tea also included a ready supply of champagne, offered by circling waiters on silver trays.

Across the room Alex spotted Katherine and
Tavis talking, with Cheng holding his mother's hand and apparently oblivious to the grandness of it all. She joined them and, after the little boy had jumped into her outstretched arms, greeted the adults with equal affection.

“There's no bloody Scotch here.”
Tavis complained.

"Whinging Scot doesn't count?” Alex smiled, hugging him and pecking him on the cheek.

“It is meant to be tea, Tavis, and if you have any complaints put them in writing to the chief organiser which would be...err..me,” Katherine joined in.

Alex realised Katherine's husband was once again absent and said nothing about the romantic morning trip with Nick to the castle. But they had almost mended everything between themselves and the three of them talked easily, with Cheng's frequent input adding to the simplicity and amusement of the gathering.

It was in the evening at the “Farewell Ball” that Alex told both Katherine and Tavis that there was something she needed to tell them and she would meet each of them separately when back in London. She is going to tell us of her past, Tavis concluded.

The three of them were joined by Kerry, in a blue gown and Luke, who also looked ill at ease in his dinner suit.

“I feel so conspicuous in this,” she whispered to Alex

“You are the belle of the ball,
Kels,”

“Yeah, right, Mrs Frumpy against glam American who could make the front cover of Vogue – I haven't got a chance. In fact, I think I'll go and sit somewhere else, to hide the contrast.”

“You are silly,” Alex replied.

Nick, who had been delayed by business, wore his black tie and dinner jacket with the confidence born of practise and kissed Alex on the lips when he finally arrived. “You look absolutely edible,” he whispered in her ear.

Apart from Kerry spilling her drink over Luke, requiring him to make a hasty exit to the men's room, the evening went without mishap and after they had ate, drunk, talked and danced, the toastmaster in a red coat announced Lord Hamilton's speech.

“Honoured guests, ladies and gentlemen, please be up standing for your gracious host, Earl Ashton of
Bramber.” The guests applauded as he stepped on to a raised platform at the end of the room.

After asking them to resume his seats, he thanked them all for coming and spoke of how lucky he was to have so many good friends whom he would miss during the next half-year.

“I hope you understand why two old birds migrate south every winter, leaving a much-loved flock behind, our bones no longer able to cope with the harsh British climate.” He paused “I again deny it has anything to do with the brandy being much cheaper over there.”

Everyone laughed.

“It was a really good summer and Eleanor and I were fortunate enough to welcome into our lives some very good people who I won't name as that might embarrass them.”

Nick squeezed Alex's hand.

“However,” the Lord continued, “you know who you are and let me say that you are welcome to hop on a plane – what's it called, Easy Flight – and spend some time with us in the villa.

“Obviously that invitation doesn't extend to the politicians here today who keep putting up my taxes.”

Laughter and table tapping echoed through the ballroom.

“They would, after all, only pay for the their own flight out of their taxpayer-funded expenses.”

The guests burst into another round of applause.

“So, as I promised to keep this very short, I would like finally to request you to give me the honour of toasting my wonderful wife Eleanor.”

“Henry, shut up!” said Lady Ashton.

“I, of course, would be totally useless without her – some say I'm useless with her...”

He was interrupted by more laughter.

“... but she is the person who has been the bedrock of whatever I have achieved and I love her dearly.”

The toastmaster stepped forward to call the tribute but Lord Ashton insisted on doing it himself.

“To Eleanor!” he said, before the guests rose in unison to salute Lady Ashton.

The Lord then climbed down from the platform looking far more fragile, Alex thought., than when she had first met him. She spotted him wiping away a tear, the British bulldog spirit of his army days diluted by age.

Shunning a big fanfare send off, The Lord An
d Lady were leaving discreetly first thing the next day so Nick and Alex went together to say their goodbyes and to promise they would visit.

“I've never seen a young couple so perfectly matched. I do hope everything works out for you both,” said Eleanor.

“I'm not sure about English protocol, but is it OK to hug a Lady?” Alex asked and felt comfortable enough with her to do so without waiting for the answer.

Nick kissed her on both cheeks and said he looked forward to their return in May.

They then went to say their goodbyes to Henry.

“Alexander, my dear girl. You are a credit to America and if this man gives you any trouble, he'll have me to answer for.”

“We'll visit,” Alex promised, hugging him too.

They were true to their word in the new year and flew to Madeira, the island of flowers, to enjoy a week with the Lord and Lady. There, they lazed in the mild, if not hot, weather and walked the beaches. It was on one walk that Nick took a call from New York and told her that bringing Megan to England was progressing as expected.

It still took another ten months before they were at the airport to oversee the arrival of her daughter. The little white coffin, with both folded Stars and Stripes and the Union Jack on top, was carried ceremoniously by the people of the funeral home into a hearse where it was driven to wait for her second funeral in Sussex a few days later.

On the tarmac, Nick held her as she cried uncontrollably at being at last reunited with the little girl she loved so much. It was unbearable for him, so he couldn't imagine what she was feeling. He never told her – and never would - that efforts of getting her there included a substantial pay-off to her ex-husband.

On the way back from the airport they said nothing but held hands tightly as she wept incessantly. Christos knew the story by now but tried to remain as professional as he could as he drove them.

For the funeral, at St Giles in the village of
Bodiam, in beautiful countryside above the castle, there were nine invited. Kerry and Luke, Suzanne, Adrian, Tavis, Katherine, Lord and Lady Ashton, and Christos. They now all knew of Alex's past.

“Are you sure I've done the right thing?” she asked Nick as the church came into view.