Oriental Hotel (62 page)

Elise settled herself, enjoying the powerful sweetness of the Porsche engine.

‘I know what you mean. My husband never left business behind and in the end I learned to live with it.'

‘This call was actually for my grandfather. He should have been home by now, but he's obviously been detained somewhere.'

There was a note of false carelessness in his voice which set alarm bells jangling for Elise.

‘Oh dear! I was looking forward to meeting him.'

Stuart swung the car around a hairpin bend; they had been climbing steadily and the cliff face fell away sheer beneath them to the sea.

‘He had been looking forward to meeting you, too.'

It was a lie and instinctively she knew it. Her heart sank. Charles Brittain did not want her here at Shek-o – perhaps she was intruding into a past he preferred to forget. With so much hanging on this visit, she could have hoped for a warmer welcome. But business was business – Charles did not have to like her in order to make a deal with her.

On a cliff-top curve ornamental gates opened on to a wide drive fringed with jacaranda trees and flame of the forest, whose drooping leaves of bright orange had now disappeared to make way for lush summer foliage. Fifty yards down the drive a wall of these rose ahead, but as Stuart swung the car to the left the house came into sight: a low, hacienda-style building, fronted by two double garages with doors standing open to reveal not one but two Rolls Royces. Passing the garages, he drove up to the front door and the back-drop of sea and sky, partially misted over by humidity, came into view.

Elise, who had noticed the two Rolls Royces, came to the obvious conclusion with some relief.

‘It rather looks as if your grandfather arrived home while you were meeting us.'

‘Unlikely. He has his own motor launch.' Stuart's voice was still lightweight, yet once again she sensed rather than heard the note of tension and glancing at him sharply she saw that his face had closed in slightly. ‘ He will be here soon, though, I'm sure. If he had already left the office when the call was transferred to me …'

‘Of course.'

Stuart opened the Porsche door for her and she swung her legs out on to the gravel drive, momentarily forgetting the purpose behind her visit as she looked for the first time at Brit's home.

This was where he had been born and raised, this luxurious shrine to success; this was what he had turned his back on. It was to this house that he had returned after making love to her at the Peninsula Hotel; here he had planned their escape to Australia; here her locket had lain all those years, unremarked except by a small boy who had woven it into his adventures.

Katy was on the drive, too, totally unimpressed by the splendour of the house but gazing towards the mist-shrouded sea.

‘What a lovely view! It reminds me a little of the South of France.'

‘We're a long way from the South of France, Katy,' Elise said, feeling slightly embarrassed, but Stuart appeared unworried by the comparison.

‘She's quite right. I have often thought the same myself. Except, of course, when a typhoon strikes. I hope there is no typhoon while you're here!'

A servant was already on hand to garage the car, and as they went into the house boys anticipated their every move, opening doors, offering chairs and plumping cushions. In an air-conditioned open-plan drawing room, Stuart poured them drinks – gin and tonic for himself and Katy, Perrier water for Elise – and Elise marvelled at the way the traditional had been adapted to incorporate the ultra-modern. Some very talented interior designer had been at work here – and very recently, too.

‘This is a beautiful room,' she remarked. ‘ Is your mother the inspiration behind it?'

Stuart crossed to the window, which gave him a clear view of the drive.

‘My mother lives in England now. She left Hong Kong as soon as she thought she could reasonably entrust my upbringing to my grandfather. No, it was my grandfather's personal assistant who was responsible for modernising the house quite recently.'

‘Really? I had thought it was the work of a professional designer – and a very good one at that. I was on the point of asking for the name.'

‘Her name is Helen Shaw. But I think you will find that she is totally committed to Cormorant.'

‘Don't worry, I have no intention of poaching her.' Elise laughed lightly, but already her mind was wandering again and she wished that she too could see the drive and have warning of Charles Brittain's return.

A carriage clock over the mantelshelf was in her direct line of vision, however; she found herself watching it as the conversation was bandied back and forth and she was aware too of a growing impatience about Stuart, for all his efforts to hide it. Katy, though, seemed blissfully unaware of any tension, remaining her usual animated and vivacious self. But eventually, during a lull in the talk, Stuart glanced at his watch.

‘I must apologise for my grandfather. It seems he must have been detained. Perhaps we should begin dinner without him?'

‘We don't mind waiting a little longer, do we, Granny?' Katy suggested, but Stuart set down his glass.

‘I think he would want us to go on. The cook will sulk for a week if dinner's spoiled. And clearly something unavoidable has come up at the office.'

Yes, thought Elise, both unavoidable and extremely convenient. Almost from the moment they had arrived, she had been aware of a reserve in Stuart's manner which had not been there before – obviously he had half expected that his grandfather would not put in an appearance.

But
why?
Why should Brit's brother be so determined to avoid me after all these years? And what am I going to do now?

‘Shall we go in?' Stuart suggested.

And as they followed him towards the dining room Elise felt – for the first time for many years – helpless, bewildered and uncertain about the future which she believed was firmly within her control.

‘Thank you for a lovely dinner and a lovely evening.'

The Rolls slid smoothly to a stop outside the Peninsula Hotel. Stuart, who always drove himself, had insisted he drive them home and they had crossed from Hong Kong Island to the mainland by means of the tunnel that now ran beneath the harbour – another innovation which had surprised Elise. Even in her day there had been talk of a tunnel, but somehow she had expected it to be a project which was shelved and shelved again, along with the proposals for the mass transit underground railway which was now also a reality.

‘It's been super,' Katy said, echoing her grandmother. ‘I don't know why you have gone to so much trouble for us.'

‘Your grandmother is a very special lady to me.' Stuart was sitting back easily, one arm along the soft leather seat of the Rolls, totally unconcerned that he might be blocking the driveway of the Peninsula. ‘It is my pleasure to entertain her on her first visit to Hong Kong for so many years. And I can only apologise again that my grandfather was detained tonight and unable to meet you.'

‘I must admit to being disappointed,' Elise said with what she hoped sounded like casual regret, though her mind was still churning. Disappointment was a gross understatement – disaster would have been more apposite.

Stuart turned. The blazing lights from the hotel caught the angle of his face, lending it the ruggedness which had characterised that of his great-uncle.

‘Perhaps, to make up for it, you would allow me to put myself at your disposal. Is there anything you particularly wanted to do while you were here – some place you would specially like to visit, perhaps? Parts of Hong Kong can still be pretty inaccessible, and if Lean help in any way – provide a taxi service …'

‘Yes,' Elise said. In her anxiety to see Charles Brittain and try to arrange some deal which would ensure the future of Sandersons, she had almost forgotten the pilgrimage she had intended to make here in Hong Kong. Now it returned to her forcefully, as if contrary to the demands of the present it was really the only thing of importance. ‘I should like to visit Brit's grave.'

She was aware of Katy's curious glance, but she thought, I'll answer her questions somehow. Just now I must keep faith with Brit.

‘The War Cemetery is at Chai Wan.' Stuart looked at her over his shoulder. ‘Out on the north-east tip of the island. Do you know it?'

‘No, I don't believe I do. It's not a place I ever had cause to visit.'

‘No, you wouldn't. It's very Chinese. You would hardly be likely to find anyone there who speaks English.' He paused. ‘When would you like to go?'

‘Whenever suits you, of course.'

‘Tomorrow morning?'

‘Tomorrow morning would be fine. But won't you be working?'

Stuart's mouth quirked up and in the half-light he reminded her painfully of Brit.

‘I think I can take a day off for something so special.'

Impulsively she leaned across to squeeze his arm with her slender fingers, but there was no need to put her gratitude into words. Their mutual interest in the man whose mortal remains had been interred at Chai Wan gave them instant rapport and something intangible existed between them.

‘Tomorrow, then,' he said. And she knew that Charles Brittain or no Charles Brittain, this evening had not after all been wasted.

The temperature was several degrees higher next morning and the humidity rose with it. It was a sultry day when the smells of Hong Kong hung heavier than the heavy air; the milling Chinese poured sweat, as they jostled in the streets and in the queues for the Star Ferry which would take them across the harbour to their offices and shops. Only the children on their way to school looked quite fresh in their neat cotton uniform dresses and white knee-socks.

From her window in the Peninsula Hotel Elise watched a beggar settling himself down for the day's ‘work' – carefully arranging himself in a position of abject suffering, half lying along the pavement with his begging bowl held out pitifully in one outstretched hand. His feet were heavily bandaged and he had a white stick indicating blindness propped up beside him, for good measure. There was no cause for anyone to beg in Hong Kong today, Elise knew – a welfare net operated to help the needy – but begging was an art, sometimes passed down through families, and its practitioners had no intention of relinquishing it too easily.

He will have a hot, uncomfortable day today, Elise thought, smiling faintly as the beggar finally satisfied himself that his pose was sufficiently heart-rending.

‘I'm ready, Granny! Are you?' Katie emerged from the bathroom, looking stunningly attractive in a white sundress that enhanced her smooth golden tan.

‘I've been ready for some time,' Elise confessed. ‘I didn't sleep too well last night and I got up at first light.'

‘Why didn't you sleep well?' Katy was on to the confession in a flash. ‘Were you quite warm enough? The air conditioning here is so efficient that it makes me feel quite chilly.'

‘I'm sure it was nothing to do with that, dear.' Elise had no intention of explaining how she had lain awake thinking and worrying; nor, if it came to that, mentioning the irritating niggle of discomfort in her chest which she supposed was indigestion. Eating a meal in the evening did not suit her these days; next time she was invited out to dinner, she would simply have to make this clear.

‘Stuart should be here in about half an hour. It's a good idea to go before the full heat of the day.' Katy said. ‘ Is there any coffee left in the pot?'

‘I think so.' She lifted the lid of the pot on the breakfast tray and nodded in confirmation. ‘As for going early, it's also a good idea because it means Stuart will have some of his day left to work. I don't like imposing on him.'

‘Oh, I'm sure he doesn't mind. He is a poppet, isn't he?'

A poppet! Elise was amused. How would Brit have reacted if anyone had called him a poppet!

‘And he does work extremely hard,' Katy continued. ‘He was saying last night that his grandfather absolutely lives Cormorant and expects him to do the same.'

‘Yes, I heard him.'

‘Did you? You looked so faraway, somehow. Are you sure you're all right, Granny? You have had hardly any of this coffee.'

‘I didn't really feel like it,' Elise confessed.

Katy's brown eyes were penetrating. ‘I think you should have an early night tonight.'

‘Don't fuss, darling. I'm fine.' But she didn't feel it. The things nerves could do to your constitution, especially when you reached what magazines called ‘a certain age'!

‘Let's hope Stuart brings the Rolls. It's not so much his car as the Porsche, I know, but the air conditioning will be a great deal more comfortable for you.' Katy poured coffee, strong and black, and piled muscovado sugar into it. ‘What's more,' she added impishly, ‘We can have the stereo playing Duran Duran and drink iced champagne from the cocktail cabinet.'

Elise smiled. ‘The champagne sounds inviting, but I assure you that pop music all the way from here to Chai Wan would more than outweigh the advantage of air conditioning. I really couldn't stand it, Katy! I know it means I must be getting old, but I can't help it. Give me Mozart any day, and even that not played too loudly!'

‘Well. I certainly shan't take you to Annabel's for your birthday treat!' Katy teased.

‘Thank you, darling. That is a relief!'

‘Do you know, I think this is a lovely place, Granny.' Katy was at the window, drinking coffee.

‘The Peninsula? It's one of the great hotels of the world.' Her mind wandered a little as she said it. She had stayed in so many of the great hotels on that voyage with Brit – Shepheard's in Cairo, the Taj Mahal in Bombay, the E&O in Penang and Raffles in Singapore – but it all seemed a little like a dream now. So long ago, so very long ago …