Echoes of Grace

by Caragh Bell

  Luca raised his glass of whiskey in salute. ‘Awesome.’

  ‘My word! I wonder if it’ll be a girl or a boy,’ said Gloria in excitement. ‘Imagine if it was a baby girl! I could buy sweet little dresses and bows for her hair.’

  ‘I thought babies had no hair,’ said Christian.

  Laura arrived back into the bar, having been upstairs changing into a sundress. Her Chanel suit was too formal for the evening and her heels were cutting her feet. ‘Did I just hear that the baby’s on the way?’ she asked.

  Gloria nodded, her hand on her chest. ‘I hope it goes well.’

  Henry patted her arm. ‘Of course it will. She’s young and healthy. They have a hospital nearby.’ His face tightened as he thought of Grace all those years ago. Grace who had been isolated in an old house during a terrible storm. Times were different now.

  ‘I’m just being silly. Oh Henry, I can’t wait to have a cuddle. I hope the poor girl has a fast labour. Nothing worse than a forty-eight-hour trauma.’

  James went upstairs after searching both the beach and the garden. Despite having phoned Aurora five times, she still hadn’t returned his calls. There were three missed calls on his phone from Claire, but he didn’t return them. He would deal with that later – his priority now was to find Aurora.

  She had to be in her room. She was staying down the hall from Laura and Christian.

  He reached her bedroom door and knocked loudly. ‘Borealis?’ he called. ‘Open up!’ There was no movement from inside so he knocked again. ‘Aurora! Come on! Open the door!’ He rested his head against the door in frustration. She obviously wasn’t there. Maybe she had joined the others at the bar and they had just missed each other.

  He turned to walk back to the stairway and saw Claire standing there watching him.

  ‘I was wondering where you were,’ she said in a shaky voice. ‘I rang you over and over.’

  ‘I was at the bar. Then I went for a walk.’

  ‘And now you’re here, knocking on her door. What a surprise.’ She backed away. ‘Why do I bother?’

  ‘Claire!’ he called after her retreating back. ‘Come back!’

  ‘Piss off,’ she said, walking away.

  He knew that he should follow her and try to work things out. He contemplated going back to their room and explaining, but what would he say? He had just spent over an hour searching for Aurora. Claire was right – he always put her first.

  The family were still in the bar when he appeared a few minutes later. He scanned the group. ‘Where’s Aurora?’ he asked. ‘Has anyone seen her?’

  ‘Oh, I met her at reception,’ answered Laura. ‘She had to leave.’

  James did a double take. ‘Leave?’

  Gloria nodded. ‘Harry called. He needs her back in New York as soon as possible.’

  ‘So where is she now?’

  ‘She’s gone to meet Bertie. She wanted to go through the song list for his party before she jets off.’

  ‘Bertie?’ he repeated stupidly. ‘But he’s cruising around the Med.’

  ‘He’s docked at St. Tropez as we speak,’ said Laura. ‘She was all apologies about not saying goodbye, but her taxi was waiting.’

  ‘Taxi?’ James ran his fingers through his hair. ‘So she’s gone?’

  ‘About half an hour ago.’ Gloria regarded her eldest son. ‘Are you all right, my darling?’

  But James had gone.

  He sprinted out to the main foyer, rushing up to the main reception desk.

  ‘Bonsoir,’ he said to the small man behind the main desk. ‘Bonsoir, je – I want – voudrais – a taxi.’

  ‘You would like a taxi, sir?’ he answered in perfect English. ‘Certainly. For when?’

  ‘Right away. Um, tout de suite.’

  The receptionist picked up the phone and spoke in rapid French. ‘To where, sir?’

  ‘St. Tropez.’

  He nodded and finished the call. ‘Five minutes. Will that be all?’

  But James had rushed out the main door. The stars sparkled in the sky and he immediately thought of her. She loved starry nights.

  He willed the car to arrive. If he left now, he might catch her. He had to see her – he had to explain.

  Sure enough, a Mercedes pulled up a few minutes later with an Algerian driver. French rap blared from the stereo.

  ‘St. Tropez,’ said James, jumping into the back seat. ‘Please hurry! I mean, dépêchez-vous.’

  The driver nodded and the car accelerated down the driveway. James looked out the window at the lights of Antibes, a grim expression on his face.

  She had run away because of him. He had to find her and make things right. Claire, his family and Laura were all forgotten. Her image filled his mind and he vowed to find her.

  The journey took longer than expected due to the volume of traffic on the motorway. Nearly two hours later, the taxi pulled up to the harbour.

  ‘Deux cents euros,’ said the driver, holding out his hand.

  James pulled out his wallet and cursed. He only had one hundred in cash. Mercifully there was a bank machine on the corner of the street. He paid the driver and sprinted down onto the marina. Boats of all sizes were docked by the wooden promenade. Many were worth millions with luxurious balconies and plush interiors. He strained his eyes to see if he could spot either Bertie or Aurora. A man approached wearing a navy uniform so he stopped him and tried to explain who he was looking for. The man pointed in the direction of the marina office so James wasted no time. There was an elderly man behind the desk, his half-moon glasses perched on his nose.

  ‘Albert Wells,’ said James breathlessly. ‘Je cherche Albert Wells.’

  The man shrugged and went back to his Sudoku puzzle.

  James banged the countertop. ‘Écoutez moi! Je cherche Albert Wells . . . le bateau.’ He pointed to the boats outside. ‘Actor! He has a boat!’

  The man started to gesticulate wildly, berating him in rapid French. He could tell from his tone that he had no idea what he was talking about and that he didn’t appreciate being disturbed.

  ‘Fine, fine, forget it!’ he shouted running outside. ‘Fuck!’ he yelled in frustration.

  A blonde woman in a Hermès scarf looked at him curiously from the railing of her cruiser.

  He ran down the remaining length of the dock, desperately trying to see inside the boats. Most of them were empty and in darkness.

  Suddenly, a small man wearing a sailor’s cap and a cravat tapped his shoulder. ‘Are you quite all right, old chap?’ he asked amiably. ‘You look a bit lost.’

  James turned around immediately. ‘You’re English? Thank God! I’m looking for Albert Wells, you know, the actor. His yacht is docked here, but I can’t find it.’

  ‘Bertie? Why do you want him?’

  ‘You know him?’ His face lit up.

  ‘Of course. He’s an old friend.’ The man looked suspicious.

  ‘Hey, I’m not a crazed fan or anything. My sister is on that boat. I need to find her. Please tell me where it is.’

  ‘Your sister? The pretty girl with the long dark hair?’

  ‘Yes! Aurora. That’s her.’

  ‘I saw her earlier having a drink at La Voile Rouge. Beautiful girl.’

  James wanted to shake him. ‘Where is she now?’

  ‘Oh, they’ve gone. You’ve missed the boat, old boy. Quite literally.’ He smiled at his own joke. ‘Bertie set sail half an hour ago.’

  ‘Set sail? Where to?’

  ‘Italy, I think. He wasn’t sure. She was with him. I say, are they an item? If so, I have to commend the old codger. She’s quite the beauty.’

  But James wasn’t listening. Instead, he was gazing out to sea. Taking out his phone, he rang her and just like all the times before there was no answer.

  She was gone and he had let her go. If only he had that moment back on the beach. He would never have said such things. He would never have let her run away.

  Chapter Forty-three

  Auror
a silenced her phone and shoved it under a velour cushion. She was sitting on the plush sofa in the living room of Bertie’s yacht, her legs curled up underneath her like a cat. The walls were lined with books and a walnut coffee table stood in the middle of the small space. The boat undulated slightly as there was a slight swell out at sea. She clutched her brandy as tears stung her eyes. He could ring her for a hundred years but there was no way she was answering. He had rejected her and now she had to pay the price for her honesty.

  Bertie eyed her compassionately. ‘Are you ready to tell me about it now?’ he asked gently. ‘I hate to see that gorgeous face all blotched with tears.’

  ‘Oh, Bertie,’ she said. ‘I’ve made a royal mess of things.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.’

  ‘It’s worse.’ She sipped her drink and coughed. ‘What is this stuff? It’s like petrol.’

  ‘Brandy,’ he replied cheerfully. ‘I get it from a farmer in Bordeaux. Unregulated of course so I’d imagine that it’s awfully dangerous. Huge alcohol content: ideal for getting pretty girls drunk.’ He winked at her.

  ‘I’m no fun,’ she said dolefully.

  ‘Oh, buck up and tell me what the matter is. I’ve been dying to know why you turned up on my boat looking forlorn and dejected.’

  She bit her lip. ‘Okay, I’ll tell you now.’

  He leaned forward in excitement. ‘Don’t leave out any of it and embellish all you want.’

  She half-smiled. ‘I’m in love.’

  ‘Well, that’s pretty obvious.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Go on.’

  ‘With my brother James.’

  ‘Ooh! That’s better,’ he said, rubbing his hands together. ‘I like a bit of good old incest.’

  ‘Except he’s not my brother, as you know. Well, not really.’ Her huge eyes were sad. ‘I didn’t realise how I felt until recently.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘I told him. He didn’t feel the same. I ran away.’ A big tear rolled down her cheek. ‘Now I can never face him again.’

  Bertie snorted. ‘Oh, of course you will. You’re family, my darling. It will be impossible to avoid him.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘Is he gay?’

  Aurora gasped. ‘No! Not at all.’

  ‘So what’s his problem then? You’re sublime. He must be crazy to reject you.’

  ‘He thinks that he’s too old and that I don’t know what I want. Plus he’s engaged.’

  ‘Oh, he is.’ Bertie raised an eyebrow.

  She blushed. ‘Yes. Perhaps I should’ve mentioned that earlier.’

  ‘Well, it certainly changes things.’ He got up and filled his glass. ‘Why did you tell him? You must have had some indication of how he felt.’

  ‘Well, we almost kissed in Venice and then I found hundreds of photos on his laptop and they were all of me.’ She shrugged. ‘He’s always looked out for me. I suppose, I hoped that he felt the same but I was wrong.’

  ‘Hmmm, perhaps not, my child. Perhaps not.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You gave him a huge shock. He has a fiancée. Maybe he’s in denial. Maybe he wants you too but is having a problem admitting it.’ He sat down on the couch beside her. ‘Give him time. This is a big step.’

  Her phone buzzed under the cushion. She pulled it out. ‘That’s him again,’ she said, glancing at the screen. ‘He keeps calling me.’

  ‘That’s positive.’

  She shook her head. ‘He’s just worried about where I am. Like all big brothers, I suppose. James has always treated me like a child.’

  ‘And therein lies the problem, my sweet,’ he said gently. ‘This James can’t accept the fact that you’ve become a woman. He’s having a crisis because the little girl he cared for through the years is now a desirable sex goddess.’ He rubbed her cheek. ‘Give him time. He needs to adjust.’

  ‘Oh, Bertie, if only you were right!’

  ‘Right, enough moping. Give me a blast of some James Bond, please. I’ve hired an orchestra to accompany you – strings for “You Only Live Twice” and brass for “Skyfall”. It will be stupendous!’

  The boat travelled across the Mediterranean overnight and docked off Livorno in Northern Italy. They had breakfast on the deck, served by a butler and prepared by a private chef.

  Aurora took a bite of a crisp buttery croissant and groaned. ‘This is heavenly.’

  Bertie nodded in agreement. ‘Divine. Fernando is a wizard in the kitchen. Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Oh, wonderfully well. The boat rocked me to sleep like a cradle.’

  ‘The brandy helped too, I imagine.’

  ‘Well, it certainly made me forget.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘Sorry for my self-indulgent rant last night. It must have been boring for you.’

  Bertie snorted. ‘On the contrary, my dear. Such drama! And I can never resist a woebegone damsel in distress.’ He poured some honey on his granola. ‘Has he called since?’

  ‘No.’ She sighed. ‘I have been expecting a text but there’s been nothing. Just missed calls.’

  ‘He’s probably waiting for you to call him back.’

  ‘Not a chance. I’m so embarrassed. It’s back to New York for me.’

  ‘He might follow you and go down on one knee, proclaiming his undying love for you.’

  ‘Hardly. He made it quite clear how he felt. I’m like a sister to him – that’s all I’ll ever be.’

  ‘Have you any work lined up?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not really. I was banking on that Scarlett role but I suspect that it’s not going to happen.’

  Bertie chewed thoughtfully. ‘You know, Justin still hasn’t found an Elise Sloane for the Broadway run.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘He’ll be at my party next week. How about you two have a rapprochement? He’s dreadfully sorry for his behaviour.’

  She scowled. ‘Harry doesn’t want me to do theatre any more.’

  ‘Harry has no soul,’ said Bertie dismissively. ‘I think it would be a terrific idea. You were so good in that role, my darling. It’s just until Christmas.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ She pushed her plate away. ‘Justin doesn’t respect me. He frightened and disgusted me. I can’t trust him.’

  ‘That was the coke,’ he said. ‘I keep telling him to lay off the white stuff but he never listens. Look, think about it. You’d see all your old friends.’

  She said nothing. La Morte was so far from her mind it was difficult to engage with it now. She checked her phone for the tenth time.

  Nothing.

  What did she expect? She had run away and ignored him. As if on cue, her phone buzzed loudly and she jumped. With a beating heart, she illuminated the screen, hoping that it was James.

  ‘Oh, it’s Gloria,’ she said, biting her lip in disappointment. She accessed the message and gasped. ‘Oh Bertie! Ella had her baby!’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘My brother’s girlfriend!’

  ‘Not your brother brother!’

  ‘No!’ She laughed. ‘I certainly wouldn’t be delighted about that.’ She frowned as she read the details. ‘A baby boy, six pound seven ounces. Mother and baby doing well and they’re calling it Andrew.’ She put her hand on her heart. ‘That’s so lovely – that was his late father’s name.’

  ‘So you’re an auntie,’ Bertie concluded. ‘That’s wonderful news.’

  ‘Well, step-auntie, I suppose.’ She took another croissant. ‘I’m so glad it went well. I’ll pop over to visit when I’m back for your party.’

  ‘Would you like to stay with me for those few days?’

  ‘You read my mind,’ she said gratefully. ‘I can’t possibly run the risk of meeting James.’

  ‘I think it’s inevitable you will, darling. You can’t hide forever.’

  ‘I can until it’s all forgotten,’ she said with determination. ‘A couple of months should do it.’

  ‘I’ll tell Miranda my housekeeper to make up the guest suite in grand sty
le for the sumptuous Aurora Sinclair.’

  She reached out and grasped his hand. ‘You’re so good to me, Bertie. I’m so thankful.’

  He winked. ‘I’m still hoping that you’ll realise that I’m the love of your life and we’ll take off into the sunset and get married.’

  She giggled. ‘You never know.’

  William threw a soiled baby wipe onto a pile. ‘My God, how does a man this small produce so much poo?’

  Ella rested her head on a cushion. ‘God knows.’

  She had never been so tired. He had only been in their lives for six days and already she was sleep-deprived. Oh, how she took those uninterrupted nights for granted! Andrew was gorgeous and cute and adorable but also loved waking up on the hour every hour for a feed. Her breasts ached and she couldn’t sit down properly due to the seventeen stitches she had received for a small tear during labour. She had imagined herself pushing her chic buggy around London, full of energy and vitality. Instead, she was a bedraggled mess with lank hair and milk-stained clothes. William had taken two weeks’ leave so at least he was around to help. He walked around with Andrew when he had wind and gave her half an hour here and there to sleep or shower. No one had told her how hard it was: no one.

  Gloria and Henry had called three days before. Gloria had been hooked from the moment she saw Andrew – if not before. ‘I love the name,’ she said tearfully. ‘Beautiful gesture.’ She had rocked him to sleep, cooing and kissing his soft forehead, clearly besotted.

  The doorbell rang. William scooped up Andrew and placed him in Ella’s arms. Putting the nappy in a scented bag, he expertly threw it into the bin.

  ‘Coming!’ he called.

  James was standing on the threshold with a large bunch of flowers and a present wrapped in blue paper.

  ‘Well, hello, Jiminy Cricket,’ said William, hugging him. ‘Come and meet Andrew.’

  James placed the flowers on the kitchen counter and walked over to Ella. Andrew was sound asleep on his mother’s breast, his small chest moving up and down rapidly.

  ‘He’s lovely,’ said James softly. ‘So tiny.’

  Ella smiled. ‘He’s a good boy,’ she agreed. ‘Except at night-time.’