Voice of the Heart (116 page)

He motioned to the waiter, ordered coffee, lit a cigarette. As he did so he glanced to the right of the restaurant, spotted Estelle and Katharine, glanced away quickly, but not before his eyes had registered an image of
her
. Chestnut hah pulled back. Face as pale as ivory. Eyes of a unique incomparable turquoise hue. And they had been staring directly at him. He felt himself tensing and a sudden chill swept through him, despite the warmth in the restaurant.

‘You’d better fasten your seat belt,’ he muttered, touching Francesca’s hand. ‘Estelle is bound to materialize any second. Katharine’s seen us.’

‘Oh
God
. Let’s leave, Nicky.’ Francesca smiled faintly at the waiter, thanked him as he placed the demitasse before her.

‘Okay. I guess you’re right. When the waiter comes back I’ll get the check.’

‘Too late, I’m afraid,’ Francesca whispered, stiffening next to him.

‘Francesca, Nicholas darling! Fancy running into you two!’ Estelle planted herself solidly at the other side of their table, smiling hugely.

Francesca merely nodded, and Nick said, ‘Hi, Estelle’, made a motion to rise.

Estelle waved him back into his seat. ‘Please, darling, don’t disturb yourself. I just popped over to ask you to join us for a
drink. You will, won’t you? Katharine’s longing to say hello. When you’ve finished your coffee, of course.’

Nick felt Francesca’s fingers biting into his knee. ‘Thanks Estelle, but I’m afraid we can’t. Please give our regrets to… Katharine,’ he said.

The journalist was about to attempt persuasion, but she instantly saw the unfamiliar coldness creeping on to Nick’s face, and was aware of the hostility in Francesca. Stuck up snob, Estelle said to herself. Cold bitch. She beamed her attention on Nick. ‘Oh dear, Kath will be so disappointed. She was very excited when she saw
you
, Nicholas.’ Estelle hovered, her expression pleading.

‘Sorry, Estelle, we can’t,’ he repeated. ‘Nice seeing you.’

It was a dismissal and she knew it, and she flushed, backed away. ‘Nice seeing you too,’ she parroted. Giving Francesca a peremptory nod, Estelle bounced across the room to the table in the rear, bridling and filled with mortification.

‘I really can’t bear her,’ Francesca said. ‘I’m still irritated by her behaviour ten days ago, when she came to do that blatantly bogus interview.’

‘I couldn’t believe it when you told me. But that’s Estelle; she’s always had
chutzpah
. Where in the hell is the waiter? They’re never around when you need them. Might as well finish the coffee.’ Nick poured for them both, and added, ‘I’m not going to scurry out of here like a scared rabbit.’

The words had barely left his mouth when he caught his breath, glancing up. Katharine was standing before them, looking cool, poised and elegantly beautiful in a white wool-crêpe dress and turquoise jewellery that reflected her spectacular eyes.

‘Hello, Frankie, Nicky.’

They murmured their greetings, and Nick attempted to get up.

‘No, please don’t stand. This won’t take a minute,’ Katharine said, speaking rapidly, in a low voice. ‘I understand why you have refused to see me and I don’t blame you at
all. You must hate me. What I did to the two of you has been on my conscience for a long time. I owe you both an explanation. I’m staying here in the hotel. Suite 2203. Will you come up for ten minutes? Please?’

Neither of them could speak. Finally Francesca found her voice, said, ‘I’m afraid… that’s quite impossible.’

Nick remained mute.

Katharine smiled diffidently, aware of their discomfiture, their awkwardness. She inclined her head slowly, graciously. ‘Think about it for a few minutes, discuss it. One rarely gets an opportunity in life—to clear up unfinished business. And the three of us do have a lot of that.’

She smiled again, and returned to her table. Within seconds she left the restaurant, gliding out with her head held high, and without looking at them. Estelle hurried after her.

Nick’s eyes followed Katharine. He was surprised at his reaction to her. For years he had experienced a variety of intense and explosive emotions when he dwelt on this complex and baffling woman, a woman whom he had loved more than any other. Anger, hurt, hatred and bitterness had smouldered in him, and yet, at certain times, these feelings had been counterbalanced by a terrible yearning, a longing for her that ate like acid into his very soul. Now, finally, after twelve years, he had gazed upon her again—and he had felt only a strange calmness. Perhaps he was invulnerable to her after all. His fears of recent days were unexpectedly allayed.

Swinging his head, he gave Francesca his attention, said, ‘Well, she’s right, you know, we do have a great deal of unfinished business.’

Francesca gaped at him. Her mouth curved down into a grim line. ‘My God, you capitulate pretty easily!’ she gasped, clenching her hands in her lap.

Nick frowned in puzzlement at himself, for he was still sifting through his present emotions. He said thoughtfully, ‘It’s amazing, Frankie.
I felt nothing
. No, that’s not exactly
true. I did experience a twinge of curiosity about her life, what she had to say to us.’

‘Curiosity killed the cat.’

‘Not always. I must admit, I
would
like to know why she sold
Florabelle
… amongst other things. Don’t you want to know why she lied in her teeth about Victor?’

‘It’s not important any more. What difference does it make now? And what makes you think she’ll tell us the truth, Nicky?’ She knew he wanted to go up to that suite and confront Katharine, and she was afraid she would be coerced into accompanying him.

‘It would resolve everything in our minds, wouldn’t it, Frankie? I’ll tell you something else, darling, she’s haunted me for years. I think I’d like to expunge her ghostly presence from my mind and my heart once and for all. Yes, I honestly think I have to follow up on my unfinished business with… my dark lady of the sonnets.’

Francesca nodded, and her genuine love and friendship for Nicholas Latimer rose to the surface. She remembered all the good he had done her in the past, his loyalty and devotion and moral support. Her attitude softened, and she told him, ‘I can understand the way you feel, Nicky. You loved her so much, and had a long and complicated relationship with her. It must have been sheer torture for you over the years, when you contemplated her betrayals, asked yourself why she treated you the way she did.’ She took his hand, held it tightly. ‘But I’m not letting you go up there alone. You see, Nicky, I don’t trust her.’

‘I’m not sure that I do either, Beauty.’ He laughed. ‘But we’re old hands at the Tempest game. She can’t fool us any more. And thanks for agreeing to come with me. Now, I’ll pay and then we’ll take the elevator up to the twenty-second floor to hear what the lady has to say for herself.’

***

They sat, the three of them, in front of the huge plate glass window overlooking Madison Avenue. Nick and Francesca
had positioned themselves on the sofa together; Katharine was perched on the edge of an armchair facing them. There was a hint of expectancy and tension in the air, but to the naked eye all three appeared to be self-contained and surprisingly at ease. In all truth, it was Francesca who was the most nervous. She smoothed her skirt several times, crossed and uncrossed her legs, and then sat back. She looked at Katharine through wary eyes and her face was guarded.

Katharine’s well-remembered voice broke the silence which had settled over them after the initial greetings. ‘Thank you for coming up to the suite. I wasn’t sure you would. This is not easy for me… for any of us, I know… quite painful really. So, I’m not going to waste time with small talk. I’ll get straight to the point.’

‘Yes,’ Nick said. ‘Why don’t you.’

Katharine smiled ever so faintly, looked past him into the distance, her expression reflective. She said, ‘When I decided in December that I wanted to come home, get back to my roots, to live in the States permanently, I knew I couldn’t be in the same city as you, under the same bit of sky as you, without approaching you both. I cannot put the clock back, change what I did, but I would like to tell you the truth now, after so long. I’m not asking you to exonerate me. After all, I did hurt you both. But I hope you might find it in your hearts to forgive me.’

When neither of her former friends uttered a word, Katharine continued quietly, ‘Frankie, I must address myself to you first.’ Her eyes were levelled on Francesca’s, and they were as steady as her voice. ‘I was not pregnant by Victor Mason. In fact, I never had an affair with him. Victor was patently uninterested in me as a woman. He was only intrigued by Katharine the actress.’ She sat back in the chair, and the relief she was experiencing was like a balm to her. Part of the slate had been wiped clean.

Francesca’s face was impassive, betrayed none of the thoughts and feelings clamouring inside her. She glanced
at Nick, whose expression was grim, then brought her eyes back to Katharine. She said, in an infinitely cold little voice, ‘Then why in God’s name did you tell such a rotten he?’

‘I never intended to he, or place the blame for my pregnancy on Victor, honestly I didn’t. His name just popped into my head, and I’d said it before I could stop myself, and then it was too late. I couldn’t retract it. I was stuck with that he.’

‘Were you really pregnant by someone, or was that a lie too?’ Francesca demanded.

‘No, I
was
pregnant. That morning at the Villa Zamir, when I confided in you, I did so because I was sick with worry. I had to unburden myself. As we talked I began to feel as if I had betrayed your trust in me as well as Kim’s. I hadn’t ever intended to name the father, Frankie, but you pushed so hard, asked so many questions, I was hoist by my own petard. And I saw everything in a different light, through your eyes, as you would view it. I knew, suddenly, that I couldn’t tell you who the real father was. I was embarrassed and ashamed about what I’d done. I looked at you, at one moment, and you were so
young
, so untouched, so unspoiled by life, and so very innocent and I thought you’d despise me. Not only because I’d slept with someone else, but also thrown away my relationship with
your brother
for another man. I decided you wouldn’t understand, that you would take Kim’s side.’ Katharine halted, intensified her gaze. ‘You see, Frankie, approval was always vital to me, and particularly
your
approval. I couldn’t stand the idea of your condemnation.’

‘How little you really knew me,’ Francesca intoned. ‘I never passed judgment on anyone, then or now. I certainly wouldn’t have criticized you, whatever my feelings for Kim. I’m afraid you underestimated me.’

Katharine nodded. ‘Yes, I did. But getting back to that morning—I was also worrying about the father of my child. He loved me, but he was very much married, had been
married for years. I didn’t think he would get a divorce, and I didn’t want to marry him. On the other hand, he was a man of genuine feeling, and I didn’t know how he would react if he knew about the baby. I was sure he would try to prevent the abortion. I was confused. I began to say all this to you, if you remember, Frankie. Do you?’

‘Oh yes, I remember. I haven’t forgotten one thing about that particular morning.’

Katharine caught the sarcastic and biting edge to Francesca’s tone, but she had no intention of reacting. Her purpose was to make a clean breast of this, without emotion. It was the only way she could deal with it. ‘I was appalled at my unanticipated predicament. I’d made my mind up that you would be disgusted with me. I didn’t know how to explain the reasons for my involvement with the man in question. I must emphasize again,
I thought you would not understand
. It struck me, all of a sudden, that you
would
understand, perhaps even be sympathetic, if the man were so special no woman could resist him, and therefore could not be blamed for succumbing to his charms. I had an instant mental picture of Victor Mason, and so I said his name.’

I don’t believe I’m hearing this, Nick thought. His concentration had been riveted on Katharine, and now he said, ‘Who was the father? Who were you pregnant by?’

‘Ossie Edwards.’

‘I’ll be a son of a bitch!’ Nick cried involuntarily. He had often wondered about her pregnancy over the years, asked himself who the father
could
have been if it
was
true. He was staggered.

Puzzled, Francesca asked, ‘Who’s Ossie Edwards?’

‘The cameraman. On
Wuthering Heights
,’ Nick informed her. He took his cigarettes out of his pocket, struck a match.

‘Of course,’ Francesca said. ‘I remember him. He was a lovely man.’

‘And talented,’ Nick added. He pinned his penetrating blue
gaze on Katharine. ‘He certainly photographed
you
like a dream.’

‘Look, that’s not why I became involved with him,’ Katharine exclaimed quickly, her voice sharpening for the first time. ‘I wasn’t using Ossie, if that’s what you think.’

Nick made no comment, but his eyes held a cynical glint.

Katharine said, ‘I hadn’t intended to digress, get off the main points, but I think I have to explain about Ossie. May I?’

‘Sure,’ Nick said laconically.

‘To understand my relationship with Ossie you must both cast your minds back to 1956, to
me
as I was at that time. I was twenty-one, making my first movie, in a starring role opposite one of the great superstars of all time. I may not have seemed it to either of you, but I was riddled with insecurities, about myself, my talent, my looks, my ability to pull it off. I was a novice amongst a lot of hard-boiled professionals. And that set!’ She shook her head, turned to Nick. ‘You weren’t around much, you were back here, but later you heard what it had been like. On the set, on location, the situation was explosive. Emotions were running high, intrigue was rife, everybody was vying for position. Believe it or not, I felt out of my depth.’

Katharine shifted in the chair, stared out of the window, a faraway look in her eyes, ‘Victor and Mark Pierce were staunchly behind me, but they were mainly concerned with the picture, the final product, and not with me as a person. They were tyrannical at times.’ Her eyes flew to Francesca. ‘You
know
that’s true.’