Angel

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  ‘He didn’t get the opportunity, Kyra. Once I had accepted his apology, I told him I wasn’t quite ready to take him back into the fold. Not just yet, under the circumstances. I added that perhaps next year it would be a different matter.’

  ‘How did he take it?’

  ‘Reasonably well, I’d say. Just before we hung up he asked if he could speak to Rosie, and I went to get her, brought her to the phone. On our way back to my study, I advised her to tell him there and then that she intended to start divorce proceedings in the new year.’

  ‘And did she?’

  ‘Oh, yes, indeed she did. And she was very forthright, extremely firm. She had the presence of mind to ask him how long he would be staying in Paris, so that she could have him served with the legal papers. Guy told her that he would be there until March, and then he was going to Hong Kong before moving on to Indonesia and other parts of the Far East.’

  ‘I suppose he was taken by surprise, wasn’t he?’

  Henri shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think so. According to Rosie he took it in his stride, and didn’t seem to be upset. Or put out. In fact, she told me after she’d hung up that he was rather cordial, nicer to her than he had been in several years.’

  Kyra’s face changed. ‘Henri, I don’t like it! His attitude worries me. He apologizes to you, congratulates you on your forthcoming marriage to me, and accepts, with apparent docility, Rosie’s plans to divorce him. He’s got something up his sleeve.’

  Henri looked at her intently, his eyes narrowing. ‘What could he possibly have up his sleeve, as you put it?’

  ‘I don’t know. All I know is that I don’t like his… his easy acceptance of everything…’ Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what she meant precisely, but, none the less, she was worried. Concern flicked into her eyes.

  Henri noticed this immediately, and he took hold of her arm reassuringly. ‘I think your imagination is running away from you, my darling. Forget Guy. He’s not going to cause trouble. Come along, we’re being rather impolite, I think, standing here chatting together. We’d better join the girls.’

  As they approached the others, Henri’s eyes veered to the Christmas tree which soared almost to the ceiling of the entrance hall. ‘Even though I do say so myself, I think we outdid ourselves this year. The tree is nothing short of magnificent.’

  ‘It’s Auntie Rosie’s lights she brought from New York, Grandpapa,’ Lisette cried. ‘They fill the tree with tiny stars just like the sky at night.’

  ‘What a lovely description, Lisette,’ Henri said, smiling at his granddaughter with pleasure.

  ‘Please come and join the girls, Henri, so I can take a picture of the whole family,’ Rosie said. ‘And you too, Kyra, you must be in this shot.’

  Henri said, ‘But it won’t be a family portrait without you, Rosie.’ He turned to Yvonne. ‘Will you go and fetch Gaston, please, my dear. Tell him I would like him to take a photograph of us.’

  ‘Yes, Uncle Henri.’ Yvonne darted off.

  ‘And you, Lisette, can run upstairs and ask Eliane to bring little Alexandre downstairs. I think he must also be in the photograph.’

  ‘I’ll go,’ Kyra said, hurrying towards the staircase. ‘I’ll bring Alexandre down myself.’

  ‘Of course,’ Henri said, and went to fill his glass with champagne.

  Rosie placed her camera on one of the hall console tables and picked up her glass. Strolling over to join Henri, she confided, ‘All of these wonderful smells emanating from the kitchen are making my mouth water. I must confess, I’m ravenous.’

  ‘So am I,’ Henri said, and taking her elbow he guided her back towards the tree. ‘I understand from Annie that Dominique has prepared a succulent goose, with chestnut stuffing and all the usual trimmings, and I for one can’t wait to sample it.’

  ‘And don’t forget the pâté de foie gras to start with and the chocolate bûche de Noël for dessert,’ Collie said, seating herself on a tapestry-upholstered bench. ‘There’s quite a meal in store for us.’

  ‘We’ll go in for dinner as soon as Gaston has taken the family portrait,’ Henri announced, then addressing Rosie, he asked, ‘How are the bridesmaids’ dresses coming along?’

  ‘Very well, almost finished, in fact. They’re hanging in my studio. If you’d like to walk over tomorrow morning you can see them.’

  Henri laughed and shook his head. ‘No, no, I want everything to do with my marriage to be a complete surprise.’

  Collie said, ‘Kyra’s dress is lovely, Father, very simple. That’s all I’m going to say about it. But I think you ought to give her Mother’s antique diamond pin, the de Montfleurie pin, I mean. It would look beautiful on the dress.’

  Henri stared at his daughter for the longest moment, then he walked over to the bench and sat down next to her. Putting his arms around her narrow shoulders, he kissed her on the cheek, overwhelmed with love for her. A rush of emotion choked him; after a moment he coughed lightly, and said, ‘That’s a sweet thought, Collie darling, and only you would suggest something so wonderfully generous. It’s a lovely and very loving gesture. Perhaps I will give the pin to Kyra. As a wedding present from the two of us.’

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Collie was desperately ill and Henri needed her.

  That was all Rosie could think about on this icy morning as she dashed around the bedroom of her Paris flat, throwing a few necessary items into a small suitcase.

  It was the middle of January, and for the past two weeks she had been busy working on initial ideas and sketches of the costumes for Napoleon and Josephine. She had been alone ever since she had returned from the Loire at the beginning of the new year, and she had enjoyed her solitariness in many ways, had loved concentrating on work to the exclusion of everything else.

  Gavin was in London, completing postproduction on Kingmaker, and they spoke every day, sometimes about the film they had just finished, sometimes about the new one, which now so preoccupied them both. They spent hours on the phone, usually in the evening after he had returned to the hotel from the studio, and when she had finally laid down her pencil and closed her sketch book for the night.

  Rosie thought of Gavin as she snapped the suitcase shut and put it on the floor. Going to the phone she dialled his direct line at Shepperton Studios in London.

  He picked up on the second ring. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Gavin, it’s me. Is this a bad time? Can you talk for a moment?’

  ‘What’s wrong? I know something’s wrong, Rosie. I can tell from your voice.’

  ‘It’s Collie,’ Rosie began, and instantly stopped as her throat closed.

  ‘Oh, Rosie, I’m sorry, so very sorry. Is she terribly ill again?’

  Swallowing, Rosie managed to say, ‘Henri just called me, a short while ago. She hasn’t been feeling well this past week, apparently. In fact, I think she’s been quite ill since just after the wedding. He didn’t want to worry me unduly, so he didn’t say anything before today. Then last night Collie took a turn for the worse. He wants me to go to Montfleurie. Now. Immediately. He said not to waste any time getting there.’

  ‘Is it that serious? You don’t think she’s—’ Gavin couldn’t bring himself to mouth what he was thinking, knowing how much Colette meant to Rosie. His heart went out to her.

  With a small sob, Rosie said, ‘I’m not sure… I don’t know…’ Recouping herself, she went on, ‘I just wanted to let you know where I’ll be for the next few days. In case you were looking for me.’

  ‘I’m glad you did. Can I do anything to help?’

  ‘No, thanks anyway.’

  ‘How are you getting to Montfleurie? By train?’

  ‘No, no, I’m going to drive. It’s easier, faster. I know I must get there as quickly as possible.’

  ‘Listen to me, Rosie, drive carefully. Please don’t take any chances on the road. Promise.’

  ‘I promise, Gavin.’

  ‘Okay. And stay in touch, let me know if you ne
ed anything. Anything at all.’

  ‘I will, and thanks.’

  ‘Take care, Angel.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said and hung up.

  ***

  In less than three hours Rosie was driving across the drawbridge and pulling into the interior courtyard of the Château de Montfleurie.

  Gaston was already hurrying down the front steps before she had even turned off the ignition, and a moment later he was helping her out of the car. His face was sombre, told its own story.

  ‘The Count is waiting for you in the study, Madame de Montfleurie,’ Gaston said, after greeting her in a more subdued manner than was normal for him.

  ‘Thanks, Gaston. There’s only one bag in the boot,’ Rosie murmured and without saying another word she hurried into the château.

  That vast entrance hall, which had rung with their laughter during the Christmas festivities, was eerily silent on this chilly afternoon, and she experienced a frightening sense of foreboding as she walked in the direction of Henri’s study at the back.

  The door stood ajar, and she knocked on it lightly, before pushing it open and going in.

  Henri de Montfleurie was sitting on the sofa in front of the fire. Lifting his head at the sound of her tapping, he got to his feet when he saw her.

  ‘Rosie!’ he exclaimed. ‘Thank God you’re here! Collie’s been asking for you for hours.’

  As he spoke he hurried to her and took her in his arms; they embraced affectionately and then drew apart, staring at each other, wanting to help each other in their pain.

  A great sadness hung in the air, and inside herself Rosie knew that despite her fervent prayers for Collie the end was near for her beloved friend.

  As she continued to look into Henri’s face Rosie saw the suffering he was enduring reflected in his dark eyes. His face was haggard and he appeared to have lost a lot of sleep; there were bags under his eyes which, she noticed, were red and puffy.

  ‘How… how is Collie?’ Rosie asked in a strangled voice, dreading to hear what he said, even knowing the answer before he spoke.

  He shook his head. ‘Not good, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I know she wasn’t feeling great over Christmas,’ Rosie said, trying to keep her voice even, but it shook unsteadily. ‘Still, this is rather sudden, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not really. Collie started to get terrible pains in her back just before Christmas, although she kept this to herself. She didn’t confide in either of us.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘The pains became unbearable at the beginning of the year, just after you left, and so she went to see Dr Junot in Tours. He wanted her to go to Paris, to see the specialists who had treated her this summer. You see he was convinced the cancer had spread. Collie agreed to make the trip, and she was preparing for it when she… collapsed…’

  Henri’s voice broke, and he turned away, fumbling in his pocket for a handkerchief. After blowing his nose, and calming himself, he swung back to Rosie, murmured, ‘But Collie wants to see you, Rosie, let’s not waste time needlessly down here.’

  ***

  ‘I waited for you, Rosie. I waited for you to come,’ Collie said in a faint voice, her eyes riveted on Rosie.

  ‘I’m here now. Collie darling.’

  ‘I’m going far, far away on a long journey.’

  Rosie, who sat on a stool next to the bed, could only nod. Reaching out, she took Collie’s small, cold hand in hers, held onto it tightly, stroking it occasionally. She longed to comfort Collie.

  ‘There will be a great distance between us in a way, yet I’ll always be with you, Rosie. In your heart. And as long as you’re alive, I’ll be alive because you’ll carry the memory of me until the day you die.’

  ‘Oh Collie, I can’t bear it. I can’t let you go. You must fight to live, to get better.’ Tears trickled down Rosie’s face and she quickly brushed them away with her other hand. ‘Please don’t slip away from us.’

  ‘I’m going to be free, Rosie. Free of pain at last. Free of sorrow. And I’ll be with Claude. He’s waiting for me…’ Her eyes, always very blue, suddenly became even bluer, and very bright. They fastened on Rosie’s face, and held a strange and brilliant radiance as she said, ‘I believe there is an after-life, don’t you, Rosie?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The spirit does live on, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Oh, yes, darling.’

  A smile struck Collie’s tender mouth. ‘Once, a long time ago, my mother told me something I’ve never forgotten. She said that when a thing is good it never dies, that it lives for always. My love for Lisette and Father and you is a good thing, isn’t it, Rosie?’

  ‘Oh yes, it is.’ Rosie could barely speak, she was so filled with sorrow and emotion.

  ‘Then my love will live, won’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can you promise me something?’

  ‘Anything, Collie.’

  ‘You won’t let Lisette forget me, will you?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘I want her to remember me, and to remember Claude. She mustn’t forget her father. Please, Rosie, keep the memory of us both alive for her.’

  ‘I promise she’ll never forget either of you,’ Rosie said, her face crumpling. She brushed away her tears again, tried hard to control herself for Collie’s sake, who was being so brave in the face of encroaching death.

  ‘My little girl will be safe with Father and Kyra, but you’ll keep an eye on her for me, won’t you?’

  ‘You know I will. I love her very much, and I’ll see her all the time.’

  ‘Thank you, Rosie, for everything you’ve always done for us.’

  ‘Please don’t say that… I haven’t done anything.’

  ‘Yes, you have. Too much. I’m glad you’re getting free of Guy. You must start a new life. You’ll meet someone nice one day, Rosie. You’ll have the kind of happiness I had with Claude. It’s really the only thing that makes life bearable… a deep and enduring love.’

  Rosie nodded.

  Collie smiled at her suddenly, and her eyes widened slightly. ‘I’m so glad we met, you and I, all those years ago in Paris, when we were girls… that you became part of my family.’ Collie closed her eyes and her breathing suddenly changed, quickened, seemed laboured and shallow.

  Rosie leaned closer, searching Collie’s face urgently, and then, as if she were aware that Rosie was anxiously staring at her, Collie opened her eyes.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she whispered. ‘I’d like the others to come in… my father, Lisette, Yvonne and Kyra. And Father Longueville. He’s been waiting to see me for ages.’

  Again, Rosie only managed a nod.

  Collie tightened her grip on Rosie’s hand, and gave it a little tug.

  Rosie leaned forward, brought her face closer to Collie’s.

  In a faint voice, Collie said, ‘Kiss me, Rosie. Kiss me goodbye.’

  Unchecked tears spilled out of Rosie’s eyes and ran down her face as she brought her lips to Collie’s cheek. She kissed her, and put her arms around her sister-in-law gently, comfortingly. Holding her close, she murmured softly, against her hair, ‘I’ve always loved you, Collie, and I always will. I’ll never forget you. Never. And you will be in my heart always, darling. Always.’

  ‘Don’t cry, dearest Rosie. I’m going to a safe place. I’ll be with Claude. And my mother,’ Collie said, and smiled the most radiant of smiles.

  Eventually Rosie stood up and went to the bedroom door.

  The others had assembled in the corridor outside, waiting to take their farewells of Collie. Rosie beckoned for them to come in.

  Slowly they entered the room, Lisette clinging to her grandfather’s hand, looking worried and scared; she was still such a little girl. The young priest, who had so recently married Henri and Kyra, was the last, and he stood slightly away from the family, near the door. After Collie had said her goodbyes to her loved ones, he would perform extreme unction. The last rites.

  And then Collie will be at peace, Rosie thought. And
we will grieve for her always. But she is far too young to die. Only thirty-two. Only a year older than me.

  PART THREE

  Dangerous Relationships

  TWENTY-NINE

  ‘You’re making progress, really doin’ good, Kevin,’ Neil said. ‘You’ve just gotta keep it up, but stay cool, for Christ’s sake, and don’t make any hasty moves.’

  Kevin nodded. ‘Don’t worry, I’m being as cautious as I can. And watching my back all right. The guy I worry about is Tony. His ass is on the line. Hell, working undercover smack in the middle of the Mob is nerve-racking for him, for anybody. It’s a tough road to hack, and I’m glad it’s not me. At least I’m on the outside looking in, so to speak.’

  ‘You mean on the inside looking in, don’t you?’

  Kevin half smiled. ‘I’m only partially on the inside, compadre.’

  ‘True, true, but listen, Kev, Tony’s okay. When you’re third-generation Italian, you know how to play their game, know how to handle them. He speaks their lingo, for one thing, and don’t forget he had a lotta experience with wiseguys when he was growing up in East New York. That’s one helluva fucking savage neighbourhood, a real dangerous corner of the universe. The home of Murder Inc. in the days of Albert Anastasia, and for all the years Tony was growing up it was a wide-open Mob town.’

  Neil nodded, as if confirming something to himself, and remarked very quietly, ‘Tony’s a cool guy, real cool, just like you. He has to be, as do you, or his ass’ll fry; and so will yours, if you put as much as one toe wrong.’ Neil took a long swig of his beer. ‘Know what? There’s no way my old buddy Anthony Rigante can be spotted as a cop. He’s always worked undercover, ever since he joined the force six years ago. It’s become second nature to him now, kid.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess you’re right. But it’s still a rough road to hack when you’re hanging around with mobsters, playing pattycake with them.’

  Neil eyed Kevin knowingly but he said nothing.

  The two detectives were sitting together at a table in the corner of a small bar in the Thirties, just off First Avenue. The bar was crowded even though it was only five in the afternoon, and the cacophony of sounds, from high-pitched voices and strident laughter to the clatter of glasses and music blaring from the jukebox in the background, made it a perfect place to have a private conversation. No one could hear a word they were saying.