Voice of the Heart (30 page)

He did not mind the rain and fog and greyness of London in the midst of winter. Unlike Victor, who missed the sunshine and balmy breezes of Southern California, Nick loved England’s inclement weather and changing seasons. Perhaps because it reminded him of New York and his childhood, and also of his years at Oxford University. Salad days. A wave of nostalgia swept over him. For no reason at all, his thoughts turned to Francesca Cunningham. Now
she
was really something else. There’s a lot more to that one than meets the eye, he thought.

Nick tapped Victor’s shoulder and said, with a soft laugh, ‘Lazarus was a bit hard on Francesca, wasn’t he? I’d hardly call her insipid. I think she’s quite a dazzler!’

‘I’ll say she is!’ Victor exclaimed, glancing at him. ‘I got the distinct impression Lazarus was attempting to be inflammatory when he made the comment.’

Nick peered at him, his brow furrowed. ‘Did you, now?’ He studied Victor reflectively, and then went on, ‘But why would
he
think that a derogatory remark about Francesca would inflame
you
? Does he know something I don’t? Come on, Vic, ’fess up. What gives?’

Victor laughed. ‘I guess you could call that a Freudian slip on my part. No, he doesn’t know anything. There isn’t anything to know. But he might have noticed I was paying special attention to Francesca in the bar for a while, trying to make her feel comfortable. Mind you, I was really only being my usual charming and gallant self.’

‘Hey, come on, kid! You can’t get out of it that easily. I know you too well. And what did you mean by Freudian slip? Explain.’

‘If you must know, I
was
rather taken with her, when I first met her. And, well… Well, I guess she has been dancing around in my head a bit. But that doesn’t mean a thing. She’s a mere child, Nicholas. A baby.’

‘San Quentin quail, eh?’ Nick grinned, his eyes twinkling with considerable amusement.

‘Hardly that. She
is
nineteen.’

‘She’s too young for you, maestro.’

‘You’re damned right she’s too young,’ Victor shot back sharply. ‘Twenty years too young.’

Nick gave Victor a sceptical look, trying to recall his behaviour on Monday evening. If he remembered correctly, Vic had been extremely proper and hadn’t paid undue attention to Francesca, or even spoken to her much. But that’s meaningless with him, Nick muttered under his breath. He’s a dark horse. ‘Are you trying to tell me you’re not going to do anything about her?’ Nick asked.

‘Of course I’m not going to do anything about her. She’s off limits. But regardless of that, I don’t think she’s interested in me anyway. So this discussion is pointless.’

Nick threw back his head and roared. ‘What do you bet, old buddy? What do you bet? I’ll give you a hundred to one she is more than interested.’

‘If she is, I’ll never know, because I’m not even going to try to find out. I told you, she’s far too young, and naïve, and we’re from different worlds anyway. It would be a bad mix. Trouble I don’t need.’

‘That’s true. By the way, talking of trouble, have you heard anything from Arlene The Bitch?’

Victor frowned. ‘Not a peep out of her, or her fancy lawyers, who are no doubt still figuring out ways to take me to the goddamn cleaners. Listen, don’t even mention her name, you’re spoiling my day.’

‘Sorry, Vic,’ Nick answered, and went on, ‘I got the impression Francesca is terrified of you.’

Victor gave him a baffled look and said, ‘Terrified of me! You gotta be kidding,
kid
. What the hell do you mean?’

‘Oh, I don’t think she’s afraid of you the way most women are, you know, of your fatal charm. Far from it. I think she’s quite a cool customer, very self-possessed. But when we were
talking the other night, she said she came from Yorkshire. I asked her what she thought of
Wuthering Heights
, and she told me you had forbidden her to discuss it with me. Then she closed up like a clam and didn’t open her mouth for ages.’ He gave him a quizzical look and asked, ‘
Did
you forbid her to talk to me about it?’

Victor couldn’t help laughing. ‘No, of course not. I made some joking remark about keeping her away from you. Because she has strong opinions, Lady Francesca does. She told me, and in no uncertain terms, that it wasn’t a love story at all, but a novel about revenge.’

‘She’s right.’

‘She is?’ Vic said, sounding a bit doubtful.

‘Sure. But it is a love story as well, and a rather touching and heart-breaking one at that.’ Nick grinned. ‘Intelligent as well, eh? Lethal combination, as far as you’re concerned. You’d better watch yourself there, old sport.’

‘Go to hell,’ Victor exclaimed, and then laughed. ‘I’m too preoccupied with the picture to start any romantic relationships, particularly with a teenager who has Stardust in her eyes.’

Nick made no comment and the two of them walked on in silence, pushing through the shoppers milling around Oxford Street. They cut back, down North Audley Street, to escape the flood of humanity and roaring traffic on the main thoroughfare, and approached the more gracious and tranquil streets of Mayfair with relief. Nick glanced about, his eyes scanning the charming old houses and elegant edifices that dated back to another century. He thought fondly of his father, who had first brought him and his sister Marcia to London when they were children, and had lovingly imparted so much of his own considerable knowledge about the history of this city. He and his father had been inseparable then. He now wondered how he had ever lived through the terrible years of his father’s monumental anger with him, after he had announced he wanted to be a writer, did not
want to join him in the bank. He had not enjoyed being on the receiving end of his father’s thunderous silence. They were on better terms of late, and for that Nicky was thankful. He had always loved his father. The terrible things parents do to their children, he thought with a stab of sadness. And children are equally bad.

Victor suddenly stopped in his tracks, staring ahead. They were drawing close to a construction site where a high building was rising slowly, its skeletal frame soaring into the sky like the fleshless bones of some gargantuan prehistoric monster.

‘What’s up, Vic?’

‘Nothing.’ Victor took a step backwards and raised his head, craning to see the highest point of the towering steel girders, where two solitary workmen were perched like ants, finishing up at the end of the day. Memories flooded through him. He brought his gaze to meet Nick’s puzzled eyes.

A pained smile played around Victor’s mouth. ‘You don’t know what fear is, sport, until you’ve dangled up there in the sky, with nothing between you and the ground but a narrow edge of metal and lots of yawning air. And then seen one of your friends slip and go plunging down, crumpling like a rag doll on the way. If you’re ever going to freeze, that’s when you freeze, when you know you can’t go up, can’t hit the sky ever again. The freeze, when you get it, is paralysing. Later come the shakes. Shakes like a dypsomaniac never knew existed.’

Nick was silent, observing the grimness on Victor’s face, the anguish in his eyes. But the expression passed, and Nick asked gently, ‘Did that happen to you, Vic?’

‘Sure as hell it did. But the funny thing was, I didn’t get the freeze when Jack actually fell. I was too concerned about him that day, I guess. It hit me forty-eight hours later.’ He shook his head. ‘Every construction worker dreads the freeze, because, for ever after, your days on the job are numbered. Of course you try to conceal it, bury it, because you need
the work, but it gets to you in the end. The fear becomes impossible to live with, and there is no way of faking, because as the building goes up, you’ve got to go up. And up and up and up. If you don’t, you get thrown off the job. And pronto. Anyway, your buddies always smell it on you… the fear.’

‘Is that when you got out?’

‘Yes, after a few weeks. Ellie smelled the fear on me, Nick. Her father and her brothers were construction workers. That’s how I met her, through Jack. He was her youngest brother. Just a kid when he fell. Hell, she knew, Nicky, really
knew
. From past experience… with them. And she begged me to quit. I wouldn’t at first.
I
had to be different. Naturally. I had to conquer the fear. And I did. A week after Jack had slipped, another young kid got stuck on the girders at the top of a sixty-storey building. It had started to rain and a wind had blown up. A terrific gale. The kid remembered Jack’s accident, and he froze. He was unable to come down. I went up and got him. About a week later I left the construction business for good, much to Ellie’s relief. That’s when we packed up and left Ohio for California. The twins weren’t even a year old. We bought an old pick-up and drove it across the country. The four of us and the luggage, what little there was of it, packed in like sardines. But I’ll tell you something, Nicky, they were the good days. I had Ellie and the boys, and that’s all that mattered to me.’ Victor chuckled. ‘Jesus, and I wasn’t even twenty.’

‘And Ellie’s brother Jack? Was he killed when he fell?’

‘No, he was paralysed. He’s been in a wheel chair ever since. Thank God I eventually made it, and have been able to look after him properly over the years.’

Nick was unable to speak for a moment, a lump constricting his throat. He thought: There’s nobody in this world quite like Vic. At least that I know of. That makes eight people he supports, to my knowledge, quite apart from the friends he helps out all the time. He’s got a heart the size of a goddamn mountain.

Victor had thrown back his head and was surveying the soaring girders for a second time, his lips compressed, his expression unreadable. When he lowered his head he half smiled at Nick. And then he said slowly, and with great care, ‘So you see, I know what
real
fear is, Nicky. And I’ve conquered it. Believe me, I ain’t afraid of Mike Lazarus.’

‘I believe you, Vic.’

Norman Rook, Terry’s dresser, was walking so rapidly he was almost running, and Katharine was finding it hard to keep pace. Finally, when they neared the top of the Haymarket, she caught up with him and tugged him to a standstill.

Breathlessly, she said, ‘Please, Norman, can’t you slow down a bit? I’m really puffed.’

‘Oh, sorry, ducks,’ he muttered apologetically. ‘I’m anxious to get back to Albany as quickly as possible.’ He set off walking again, and if his steps were not exactly leisurely, at least they were more measured. Katharine was now able to keep abreast of him, and several times she stole a look at his face, conscious he was plunged in gloom. But fortunately, now that they were away from the theatre, his agitation seemed to have lessened. When Norman had appeared in her dressing room fifteen minutes earlier, his distress had alarmed her to such a considerable degree that she had responded to the urgency in his manner with swiftness, and without really thinking, anxious to be of help.

The brisk walk had given Katharine time to sort things out in her mind, and she found one fact singularly troubling, and so perplexing. This was Norman’s reaction to Terry’s drunken state. In her view, it was not only rather extreme, but unwarranted in many ways. Every actor, herself included, hated to miss a performance, but sometimes it was unavoidable, usually for health reasons. Terry had only been out once, since the play opened, and that was nothing short of fantastic. A record. She herself had missed three shows because of a cold, and John Layton, the second male lead, had been absent for two weeks with a dislocated knee cap. It won’t
be the end of the world if Terry doesn’t appear tonight, so why is Norman so frantic? she questioned herself.

Katharine clutched the dresser’s arm so forcefully, and her grip was so tenacious, that he had no alternative but to stop again. ‘I don’t understand you, Norman! Why are you so worked up about Terry missing tonight’s show?’

Norman stared back blankly. ‘I’m not!’ he protested. He took a deep breath. ‘Hell, I wish he wouldn’t even attempt it, I think he’s bloody bonkers! Terry knows I’d lie in my teeth for him. I could easily say he has laryngitis. But he won’t listen. I don’t know how I’m going to stop him going to the theatre tonight. That’s what worries me, duckie. Restraining him.’ He gave her a sickly smile. ‘Terry’s twice my size.’

Katharine was satisfied with the explanation and recognized the truth in it. ‘Yes, I know he makes two of you. But look, why can’t you simply lock him in the flat, Norman?’

‘Don’t think I haven’t thought of that! But… Well, Terry can be bloody difficult when he’s boozed up. Belligerent, for starters.’

That sense of dismay Katharine had experienced in the dressing room, reactivated, and it struck her that Terry must be far worse than she had imagined. She wondered what had motivated him to behave so irresponsibly. Still, there was nothing to be gained by dwelling on that. Action was the imperative.

‘Maybe we could find somebody to help us,’ she suggested. ‘I could ask Victor Mason to run over! He’s as big as Terry, a lot bigger in fact and more powerfully built. I bet he could handle Terry easily.’

Norman gawked at her. ‘Don’t be daft, ducks, we can’t drag other people into this mess.’ Not bloody likely, he thought to himself. And without another word he swung around and rushed on, obviously propelled by the urgent need to get to Albany, and Terry, as speedily as possible.
Katharine stared at his retreating figure, filled with exasperation, and then she set off after him.

The dresser, small and spry, was bounding ahead like a wiry terrier, his raincoat flapping out behind him as he dodged between pedestrians. My God, he’s behaving like a maniac, she thought, her exasperation flaring into real annoyance. It occurred to her then that perhaps Norman was afraid Terry had managed somehow to get out, and was already staggering drunkenly to the theatre. Yes, that’s obviously the explanation, she decided, and instantly changed her mind. She knew John Standish’s flat, where Terry was presently staying. Apart from having a strong oak door, there were also three locks, because of John’s valuable antiques, paintings and other objects of art. He made sure it was difficult to break into—or out of, for that matter. She increased her speed in an effort to catch up with Norman. When she drew level with the Piccadilly Hotel, she saw, to her surprise and immense relief, that Norman had finally stopped and was actually waiting for her.