Voice of the Heart (119 page)

‘I know Frankie never liked her, and Estelle is a strange person, but she’s been very loyal to me, Nicky,’ Katharine said, sounding softly reproving.

‘Yes, you’re right to defend her. She’s
okay
. I was only kidding.’

Katharine smiled, half shrugged. ‘Anyway, she didn’t tell me very much, merely mentioned your son, said you live with a Venezuelan beauty. Your public life I know all about… your books and your screenplays, I mean.’ She tapped her cigarette in the ashtray, leaned across the table, her smile widening, ‘What’s your little boy’s name?’

‘Victor.’

‘Oh.’ She pulled back, said quickly, ‘I tried to speak to his namesake when I was staying at the Bel-Air Hotel, but his housekeeper said he was in Mexico.’

Nick eyed her speculatively, his face sobering. ‘Do you also want to explain everything to Vic?’

‘Yes. I think I owe it to him.’

‘He won’t be back for another week, Kath.’

‘Then I shall call him then. Would that be all right, do you think?’

‘Sure. Oh good, here’s your tea and my martini.’

A quietness fell between them. Katharine poured tea, added lemon and sugar; Nick stirred his martini, lit a cigarette. Finally he raised his glass to her. ‘Down the hatch,’ he said.

She lifted her cup, repeated the toast.

‘You always did look good in blue, Kath,’ said Nick, his eyes roaming over her appreciatively.

‘Thank you, so did you,’ she quipped, focusing on his pale blue Turnbull and Asser shirt, darker blue tie, navy-blue cashmere blazer.

‘We do it to play up our eyes, don’t you know?’

Merriment spilled out of Katharine. ‘I’ll never forget going to a party in London a couple of years ago, and hearing one guest tell another that I always wore sapphires because they matched my eyes, but that all my blue gems were actually artificial. And the second old biddy said, “Oh really, my deah, how extraordinary. And are her eyes artificial too?” Katharine mimicked in an exaggerated English accent. ‘It made my day, Nicky.’

He said, ‘There’s never been anything artificial about your beauty, my darl—’ He cut himself off abruptly.

Katharine looked away, and when she turned back to him she said, ‘Could I ask you a question, Nick?’

‘I’ll trade you one for two.’

‘It’s a deal. I’ve been wondering for years why you never ever told me about Victor and Frankie.’

‘Very simple. She made me promise not to say a word to anyone, including you.’

‘I see.’

‘My first question is: What have you been doing all this time? While you’ve lived in London. You’ve certainly not made any pictures.’

Without hesitation, she said, ‘Getting my head straight. I’ve had almost nine solid years of deep psychiatric care and treatment for schizophrenia. Dr Edward Moss, who’s been likened to R. D. Laing, pronounced me cured over a year ago, and I’m really quite proud of myself.’

Nick was silent, chilled to the bone at the thought of what she had been through. Eventually he said, ‘It must have been sheer hell, but I’m glad you took care of your problems, Kath.’ He was reflective momentarily, then added, ‘I’ve never seen you quite like this. So serene.’

‘Yes, I do feel good. You have a second question?’

Nick took a swallow of his drink, playing for time. He had wanted to ask her about her relationship with Lazarus, but had now lost his nerve. And so he said, ‘You told me Ryan had dumped your father. What about you? Have you had any contact with him over the years? Or since you’ve been back?’

She shook her head, and her eyes darkened. ‘No. When I arrived in the States, a few weeks ago, I did ’phone him in Chicago. I was thinking of going to see him.’ She grimaced. ‘My father didn’t want to see me, and I decided to let it go. It suddenly occurred to me that I’d been wasting my time and my energy on my father and Ryan. When you’ve coped with the problems I’ve had to cope with—and alone—you gain new insights, formulate new priorities. But Ryan was always special to me, so I did finally write to him, and he agreed to meet me whenever I planned to be in New York.’ She took a sip of tea, went on, ‘When we did get together, Ryan told me he had broken with my father, and I almost laughed out loud. I’d wanted revenge, had sought to get back at my father for everything he had done to me, and to Ryan, and just like that—’ She snapped her fingers and finished, ‘It was no longer necessary. Ryan had done the one thing I’d
been after him to do since he was a boy. He had become his own man. Strong. Independent. Incorruptible.’

‘I’m glad Ryan had the guts to strike out on his own, Kath. I’m even more delighted that you have walked away from your father… that’s one of the sanest moves you’ve ever made.’

Katharine’s smile was warm. ‘I think so.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I’ll have to go in a few minutes. I have a date… with Michael.’

His face tightened. ‘Oh, you hadn’t said. I’ll get the check. Can I take you wherever you’re going?’

‘You can walk with me if you like. His office isn’t far from here. On Park.’

‘I know the building. Global-Centurion nobody can miss.’

The heavy sarcasm floated over her head. Gently she said, ‘I’m hoping he’s going to let me visit my daughter, Vanessa. It’s been nine years since I’ve seen her, Nicky.’

Oh Jesus, he thought, filled with a rush of compassion. He said, with a small frown, ‘Surely he will. No one could be that cruel.’

‘I have good vibrations, Nicky. I think he’ll consent.’

As they walked to Park Avenue, Katharine told Nicholas about the acrimonious custody fight for the child, the reasons for her divorce from Lazarus, her pain and anguish about the child, as she herself had striven to regain her mental health. Nick was appalled at Lazarus’s callousness, as Beau Stanton had been; he was also impressed with Katharine’s determination to recover, for her daughter’s sake as well as her own. From what she was saying, it was Vanessa who had given her the motivation, the will to come to grips with her life. Nor could he help noticing her self-possession, her calm demeanour, as she recounted the details, and this pleased him enormously.

‘I’d like to know how things turn out—with Vanessa,’ Nick said when they reached the Global-Centurion skyscraper. ‘Will you call me?’

‘I don’t have your number.’

‘It’s the same. But perhaps you’ve forgotten it. Or lost it.’

‘Oh no, Nicky, I still have it in my book.’

‘Until later then.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘Break a leg.’

She smiled and was gone.

***

Mike Lazarus received her with cordiality, ushering her into his gargantuan office handsomely furnished with French antique furniture of the Empire period and priceless works of art.

‘Come and sit over here, Katharine my dear,’ Lazarus intoned, leading her to a seating arrangement composed of sofas and chairs covered in fir-green cut velvet. Hanging on the wall above these rather overblown pieces was a Rubens of incalculable worth. Katharine eyed the painting surreptitiously, instantly hated it, chose to sit on the sofa where it was out of her fine of vision.

‘Thank you for seeing me, Michael,’ she said.

‘My pleasure.’ He poured champagne, carried the flutes over to the coffee table on a small silver tray. ‘Especially since you are looking so fit, my dear.’

He took a seat opposite her, his eyes rapidly appraising her from head to toe. He could not conceal his astonishment, nor did he attempt to do so. ‘You are very beautiful, Katharine. Quite remarkable under the circumstances.’

‘Thank you. I must say, you look well yourself, Michael.’ She spoke the truth. Lazarus, who was sixty-eight, had retained his muscular, sturdy appearance, seemed to be in robust health. Yet he had visibly aged. She regarded him with impassivity, struck by the immense hardness in the man, which had only been magnified by time, and conscious of the controlled power, the dark stealth that surrounded him.

The pale cold eyes, sharp with calculation, watched her. Most people trembled in his presence. He did not frighten
her one iota. ‘Did you receive the letter and the reports from Dr Moss?’ she asked, deciding to waste no time.

‘Indeed I did, my dear. And I’m delighted to know you have made such a miraculous recovery.’

She smiled sweetly. ‘I’m not sure one could call it miraculous, Mike. It’s taken a number of years.’

‘Yes, yes.’ He lifted his glass. ‘To your continued health, my dear.’

‘And yours.’ She took only a tiny sip, placed the flute on the onyx table. ‘I’d like to see Vanessa. You always said I could when I was really better. I am.’

Lazarus nodded, steepled his fingers, looked excessively ponderous. ‘I don’t know… I think perhaps you ought to get settled first, find an apartment, establish yourself. I hate to think that we might start a relationship between the two of you, only to find it crumbling. It would be very upsetting to the child if she became fond of you and then you had—’

‘A relapse, Mike?’ Katharine interrupted softly, raising one perfectly shaped dark eyebrow. ‘Is that what you’re getting at?’

‘No, of course not.’

Katharine sat back, almost complacently, crossed her legs and clasped her hands in her lap. She met his cold visage unflinchingly and with an icy implacability that matched his. She said, ‘I am going to tell you a story, Michael. And when I have finished I hope you will not keep Vanessa from me any longer. If you do so, I’m afraid I will have no alternative but to start proceedings against you, resort to the law for visitation privileges. I realize you could keep me tied up legally for a great length of time. However, whether I win the suit or not is of no real consequence. Once those legal documents are processed by the courts they become public record, as you are well aware. They are available to anyone… I am thinking, in particular, of the press.’ A slow smile spread across her face and she paused to light a cigarette.

He said curtly, ‘What of it?’

Her smile intensified. ‘I don’t think I would have any trouble getting an enormous turn-out if I called a press conference. I have become a bigger superstar than I ever was, since I disappeared so mysteriously from the public eye. It always happens that way, doesn’t it? James Dean, Bogart, Marilyn Monroe, not to mention Garbo. My unavailability, my desire for total privacy has made me into a legend. My films are constantly replayed on television, and the Carnegie, here in New York, is about to have a week of Katharine Tempest classics.’

‘Get to the point,’ Lazarus snapped impatiently.

‘Imagine the coverage I would get if I told those sympathetic reporters of my yearning to see my only child… kept from me by
you
. It would—’

‘Don’t be so ridiculous. I won custody of Vanessa in a
court of law
. I did the only thing any father would do. I was thinking of the child. You were incapable of looking after her, or of even visiting her. Don’t you realize you would have to explain yourself, reveal where you have been these last few years. You would have to tell the press about your mental breakdown.’

‘Oh yes, I know I would,’ she said, not in the least ruffled. ‘I would also recount to them the story you are about to hear. When I finish that story your image will not only be irreparably damaged, the general public will detest you. I wonder how that would affect Global-Centurion stock?’

‘Threats are not going to get you anywhere!’ he exclaimed angrily. ‘I receive you in the most pleasant manner, and you abuse—’

‘May I tell you the story?’

His mouth tightened. ‘If you so wish.’

‘I do.’

Twenty-five minutes later Michael Lazarus rose and went to his desk. He asked his secretary to telephone his apartment and replaced the receiver. He regarded Katharine through
stunned eyes. In spite of the rosy glow from the lamps, his face looked grey and his whole body had visibly sagged. He was mesmerized by this beautiful composed woman sitting on his sofa, and when the telephone jangled he took a moment to answer it.

‘Hello, Brooks. Is Miss Vanessa there? Please let me speak to her. Thank you.’ He covered the mouthpiece, hissed, ‘If this is a—Hello, Vanessa. No, I’m not working late. I’ll be home for dinner. I called because I have a lovely surprise for you. Do you remember I told you last week that I’d heard from your mother’s doctor, and that she was much better?’ He listened, nodded, continued, ‘Well, my love, she’s so much better, she’s been able to travel to New York. She’s right here with me now in the office. She’s coming to see you.’ He listened again, smiled, said, ‘No, now. Immediately. Simpson will bring her over to visit with you for a short while.’ Another pause on his part. ‘Good. Yes, do. I’ll see you for dinner, Vanessa.’ He hung up. His hand rested on the receiver. ‘She wishes to change her dress. We have to give her a few minutes.’

‘Of course, Michael,’ Katharine smiled.

He said, ‘If this is one of your tricks—’

She held up her hand, and her expression reflected her disgust. ‘Do you honestly think I would lie about a thing like
this
?’

He paled. ‘No, no. I’m sorry I made that remark. Excuse me.’

Katharine was so startled to hear an apology from him she blinked. Mike Lazarus never apologized to anyone. She was even more taken aback when he came to the sofa, sat down, took her hand in his. ‘As a matter of fact, I am very sorry for so many things which have to do with you and me, Katharine.’

She gently removed her hand after a moment, and said, ‘I hope you realize I won’t repeat what I’ve told you to a soul. I presume you wouldn’t want me to. After all, we don’t
wish to hurt… anyone, do we? Cause them undue misery. Particularly a child.’

‘Vanessa? You can’t possibly tell
her
!’

‘I have no intention of doing so.’ Katharine stood up. ‘I shall go to see her now though.’

***

Katharine was greeted at the door of the Lazarus triplex on Fifth Avenue by Brooks, the English butler, who had been the mainstay of the household for twenty years.

‘Hello, Madame, it’s lovely to see you,’ Brooks said, taking her coat.

‘It’s nice to see you too, Brooks.’

‘Thank you, Madame. Miss Vanessa’s waiting for you in the drawing room. Do you wish me to take you in to her, Mrs Lazarus?’