Voice of the Heart (117 page)

‘Yes,’ Francesca admitted.

‘There was a lot at stake for Victor and Mark. And as sweet as Victor can be, he’s forever scanning the bottom line, and the budget, and the shooting schedule. He’s very tough. Yes, he helped me, Mark helped me. With my performance, and that’s all. I was often floundering, and I felt so
alone
. My one true friend on that movie was Ossie Edwards.’

‘I’ve followed everything, and I get the general idea. But why did you become personally involved with him?’ Nick probed, fascinated.

‘He was a father figure to me perhaps. The father I’d never really had. He was so kind, Nick, and concerned for
me
, concerned for the woman as well as for the actress. He was loving and gentle. He boosted my self-confidence about my work in a way no one else ever had, or could, not even Mark and Victor. He also made me see myself as I really was then. Through the eye of the camera, he called it. I was never particularly vain. Ossie didn’t promote vanity in me, but he did clarify my beauty for me. He taught me how to
react
to the camera, to play to it, to use it, to give it my innermost thoughts and feelings. With all due respect to Victor and Mark, if anyone made me a star it was Ossie Edwards, although they might think otherwise. All this aside, that sweet man offered me shelter, protection, refuge, call it what you will, on that difficult set. As I said, I was insecure, emotionally unstable, and I had many doubts about myself, and about my sexuality—’ She stopped unexpectedly, dropped her eyes, played with the large diamond ring on her finger.

‘You know my problems in that area, Nick. They were more pronounced in those days. I was a virgin.’ She hesitated, went on. ‘I had repulsed Kim continually, and I began to think there really was something wrong with me. Ossie led me into sex rather sweetly, gently. Perhaps because he was an older man he succeeded where Kim had not. He didn’t frighten me off as Kim had. Mind you, Ossie didn’t clear up my problems with… intimacy either.’ She gave Nick a direct unblinking stare. ‘Only you were able to accomplish that feat.’

For the first time, and against his will, Nick felt a flicker of compassion for Katharine. I always thought I knew her completely, understood her totally. But there are so many facets to this curious woman, he thought. Grudgingly, he
said, ‘I can’t say I blame you for Ossie. It’s a tough business. Goddamned rough.’ He thought of Mike Lazarus then, and said no more. And his heart hardened towards her again.

Francesca, who had been listening as closely as Nick, said, ‘But how could you pull a name from thin air? It was so—irresponsible.’

‘Yes, I suppose it was. But I’ve just explained my motivation, Frankie. I thought you would be more sympathetic if the man involved was someone special, irresistible.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me the truth… tell me about Ossie? I would have understood.’

‘Would you?’ Katharine rose, walked to the sideboard, poured herself a glass of Perrier, added ice and a slice of lemon. ‘Oh excuse me, would either of you like anything?’ she asked, turning to them.

They both declined, and she came back to her chair. Looking at Francesca over the rim of the glass, her eyes flared brightly. ‘Why didn’t
you
tell me about Victor, Francesca? If I’d known about him none of it would have happened in the first place.’ She leaned forward, her stare more intense. ‘I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I wasn’t being malicious. I didn’t
know
you and Victor were having a love affair. Surely, if nothing else, you must believe that.’

Francesca flushed slightly. ‘Yes, I do.’ She dropped her eyes, studied the tip of her boot. ‘Only Nicky and Diana were acquainted with that fact.’

‘You accused me of ruining your life on that horrendous night in Connecticut when we last saw each other. But hasn’t it ever occurred to you that your own negligence and secretiveness were contributory factors in the situation that finally developed?’ Katharine murmured gently. ‘Not that I’m trying to shift the blame. What I did was bad enough.’

Francesca passed over this mild chastisement. ‘I’ve always wondered… My peach dress. Did you spill the red wine on purpose?’

‘No. It was an accident. I was nervous about the baby, overwrought, in fact. I did slip.’

‘And Ryan? Did you interfere in our relationship?’

‘I did talk to Ryan. I listened to him. Agreed with some of the things which worried him. So, if you call that interfering, then yes, I did. However, I never told him not to marry you, nor did I say he would be miserable with you. Those things were in his own head, planted by my father, although Ryan wouldn’t admit it at the time. If you don’t believe me, you can speak to Ryan right now. He’s in New York. In his apartment in this hotel. We had dinner last night, cleared up our own misunderstandings and grievances. You see, Frankie, one of the reasons I have been estranged from Ryan for a number of years is because of his treatment of you. Please, let’s settle this. Pick up the ’phone and ask for his apartment. It’s 1208.’

‘That’s not necessary.’ Francesca bit her lip. ‘Are you saying it was your father who was opposed to me?’

‘Yes. Ryan wouldn’t tell you when he broke off with you. He was afraid of my father, and in a strange sort of way, protective of his relationship with him. I will say this, I am glad you never married him, Frankie. He wasn’t good enough for you. Not then, at least. He’s different now. He booted my father out of his life a number of years ago, along with all those aides and sidekicks my father had foisted on him. Patrick O’Rourke’s spies. Ryan came to understand all this, perhaps because of me, the things I had said to him. We had a
rapprochement
in 1969, short-lived as it was, and I told him the way things really were. Gave it to him straight. He never spoke to me again. Until a couple of days ago. It was then I learned he had repudiated our father, become his own man.’

‘I see.’ Francesca sighed, closed her eyes wearily, her mind in a turmoil as she relived part of her past.

Nick stood up impatiently, walked over to the window, looked down at Madison Avenue, finally pivoted
to Katharine. He was bursting with questions, and he exclaimed, ‘Why did you sell
Florabelle
to Lazarus?’

‘I never intended to, not at first,’ Katharine began, and took a sip of the Perrier. ‘The picture I’d made for Monarch in 1964 had been a big box-office hit. But you know that. Mike was after me to do another movie for them, badgered me constantly about it. I saw him from time to time, after all we were old friends, and he never let up. In 1967 he approached me once more. Almost as a joke, and, in a way, to make him stop pestering me, I said I would only make
Florabelle
. No one was more surprised than I when he agreed.’ Katharine smiled sadly. ‘My God, you think I’m manipulative, Nicky. He’s the master of that technique. Before I could turn around he’d bought a copy of the book, read it, made an offer to my agent for the whole package. That is, the dramatic rights which Kort owned, and my services as an actress. Suddenly he was drawing contracts, hiring Charlie Roberts, signing a director, setting the wheels in motion. I suppose you could say I was railroaded.’

‘
You
. Come on!’ Nick threw her a disbelieving look.

‘I realize you find that hard to accept, but it is the truth. Naturally I was worried,’ Katharine told him, exhaling. ‘However, I managed to convince myself you would be pleased in the end. Thrilled. You’d longed to see the novel filmed, were aware no other producer had shown interest. Suddenly I felt I’d done you a great favour. Wishful thinking on my part perhaps. In any event, I decided to keep it a secret until I could show you Charlie’s finished script. I knew it would be great. He’s one of the best in the business. In my mind I somehow turned it into a lovely surprise for you. But everything blew up. You found out before I could tell you.’

Nick frowned, uncertain about her explanation. Was she still an inveterate liar? He exclaimed quickly, ‘But you’re only telling me the same story you told me in 1967.’

‘I’m not going to invent reasons just to satisfy you, confirm your suspicions of me. That’s really the way it was. I admit I
was preposterous in those days, that I could convince myself of anything, justify any action as a good deed. I’ve come to understand that now.’

‘That’s nice to know,’ Nick snapped sardonically. He flung himself into a chair. ‘You used to spin incredible yarns about where you’d been when you disappeared. Where did you go?’

‘I wandered around like a lost soul sometimes, filled with the strangest of feelings, fighting a terrible pain in my head. Not really a headache, but a kind of pounding that never ceased.’ She met his piercing eyes. His flat blues, she thought, and nodded as if to herself. ‘It may sound weird, but then I was weird in those days. Often I
did
go to church, or I sat through three and four shows of the same movie. There were other evenings when I went up to Michael’s, talked to him endlessly about art and movies, listened to him expound about his business. We were old friends, Nicky. Don’t forget, I’d known him since 1956.’

‘So you
were
having an affair with him!’ Nick asserted.

‘You’re wrong. I was not!’ Katharine cried, her voice rising. ‘Of course, Mike had courted me for years, pursued me like a mad man, even when I was married to Beau,’ she added in a softer tone. ‘He fascinated me, I admit that. I suppose it was his power, his strength of personality, that great domain he ruled over. You once called it his fiefdom. It was, and is. Mike had idolized me for as long as he’d known me. Even before that. He had seen me in Les Ambassadeurs with Victor, and according to him he had been immediately bewitched. He had placed me on a pedestal. I was a priceless piece of art to him. He adored my beauty, worshipped me. I was all the more desirable because I was unattainable, don’t you see?’ Nick nodded, and she explained, ‘His library at the apartment… it was like a shrine to Katharine Tempest. Filled with over a dozen photographs of me, framed in gold.’ Her dark brows lifted expressively. ‘Nutty, I suppose. But then Beau Stanton used
to say Mike was unbalanced. I was mixed up, Nick, unstable, and, not unnaturally, I was enormously flattered. Here he was, one of the richest and most powerful men in the world, literally grovelling at my feet. That’s heady stuff, a narcotic to any woman, but especially to one who is unbalanced herself, as I was then.’

‘When did you become involved with him on a more intimate basis? When you were still with me?’ Nick asked in a tight voice.

‘Yes,’ she answered gently. ‘I had always flirted with him, tantalized him, if you will. But I had never slept with him. Never. I swear I hadn’t… not until 1967, just after I bought the house in Connecticut.’

Nick held himself still. His chest tightened, and he took sharp rein on himself. ‘Why? Why? When you loved me.’

‘I really couldn’t handle you any longer, Nick. You see—’

‘Was I so difficult?’ he interjected, his eyes opening widely.

‘No. It was
me
. You see, Nick, you knew me too well, knew too much about me… my problems… my faults… my craziness. I thought I was going to lose you. That’s the only way I can explain it. I don’t know if it makes sense.’

He shook his head, sorrow ringing his face. ‘Genuine love is being able to look at a person and see their faults and their problems and still love them, Katharine.’

‘I realize that now. I didn’t then. And I also understand now that at that time in my life I was not able to face the thought of another loss. I’d lost my mother in death, my father and Ryan were alienated. I was unable to cope with the possibility, no the probability, of losing
you.
’

Unable to take his eyes off her, Nick plunged in deeper. ‘Why did you marry Lazarus?’

‘I was pregnant by him.’ Katharine’s face tightened, and her eyes were huge and full of pain, and reflected the emotions she had been concealing.

An unacceptable thought entered Nick’s brain, and he
asked slowly, in an inaudible voice, ‘Were you pregnant by him when you were still with me?’

‘Yes. I’m sorry, Nick.’

‘How could you be so sure it was his baby?’

‘I was. If you remember,
we
hadn’t slept together for a number of weeks, almost two months. I was only
just
pregnant when I married Michael.’

‘You could have had an abortion,’ he began and clamped his mouth shut, hating himself for saying such a thing, thinking of his own child.

‘Not a second time,’ she whispered.

‘No,’ he said miserably, ‘I don’t suppose you could.’

‘I’m so very sorry that I’ve had to hurt you again, Nicky. But I was determined to tell you the truth today, and to tell you the truth, Francesca. I know I’ve caused you grief in the past. But I have paid, believe me I have. And I still pay every day of my life.’

Francesca lifted her head and searched Katharine’s face and she thought: I don’t know why I believe she has suffered, and yet I do. She said, ‘Yes, I’m sure you have had your share of pain, Katharine.’ Francesca turned to Nick, observed his strained white face, was conscious of his inner torment. She went to him, put her arm around his shoulders. ‘Katharine is at least right in one thing, Nicky darling. It’s better we know all the facts, painful as they may be. Now perhaps we can finally resolve everything in our minds.’

‘Yes,’ he mumbled.

Katharine’s eyes swivelled from one to the other. She took a deep breath, and sat back, relaxing her tense muscles. After the longest moment, she said, ‘From the bottom of my heart I ask you to forgive me… Nicky, Frankie.
I beg you.
’

There was a silence. Francesca spoke first. ‘I forgave you a long time ago, Katharine. I just never forgot, that’s all.’

‘Please, could you say the actual words to me?’ Katharine asked softly.

‘I forgive you,’ Francesca replied, her tone an echo of Katharine’s.

‘Thank you, Frankie. That means a lot to me. More than you will ever know.’ Katharine looked at Nick, waiting.

His eyes met hers, blue impaled blue. He said, ‘Unlike Francesca,
I
had never forgiven you, Katharine. But I do forgive you now. How could I not? You have shown immense courage today, facing us the way you have.’