Letter From a Stranger

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  A smile began to spread across her face, and the tension in her evaporated. ‘Of course we love each other! It’s a coup de foudre, remember. Yes, Michael. Yes. I’ll marry you, and the sooner the better.’

  She moved closer to him, kissed him, her arms went around him. He kissed her back and they went on kissing, until he finally drew away. He said softly, ‘You are the person I should be with, Justine. For the rest of my life. And you should be with me.’

  ‘I know that, Michael. There’s nothing more life affirming than our love for each other.’

  Michael put his hand in his pocket, pulled out a small dark-blue leather box. ‘I’ve been walking around with this for days.’ He opened the box and took out a ring. ‘I asked you to marry me; you said yes.’ He slipped the ring on the finger of her left hand. ‘And now we’re engaged.’

  Justine gasped as she looked down at the deep-blue sapphire. ‘Oh Michael! It’s beautiful. Thank you, thank you.’

  ‘I’m happy you like it. There’s a story behind it. Last Monday, before I left for London, I went to see Anita. She brought this ring out of her safe, and told me she wanted me to have it for you. She then explained that it was the last gift my grandfather Maxwell gave her before he died. She wouldn’t take no for an answer.’

  ‘What a lovely thing for her to do,’ Justine murmured, touched by Anita’s gesture. Then she jumped up. ‘Come on, let’s go and find her, and Gran, and tell them we’re now engaged.’

  As Michael rose up he said, with a frown, ‘But didn’t you have something you wanted to discuss with me?’

  ‘Oh that. It’s nothing,’ she exclaimed dismissively. She had no intention of letting the wickedness of her mother overshadow her engagement, or spoil the evening ahead. She would tell him later.

  Michael grabbed her again and brought her close then, holding hands, they ran across the lawn. They found their grandmothers sitting on the terrace, obviously waiting for them.

  Justine hurried to Anita and hugged her, kissed her cheek. ‘Thank you, Anita. Thank you for my beautiful ring. I’m so touched you gave it to Michael to give to me.’

  ‘It was meant for you,’ Anita said, beaming.

  Turning to her grandmother, Justine stretched out her hand. ‘Look, Gran, Michael just gave me this. He asked me to marry him and I said yes and we’re engaged.’ She bent forward and took hold of Gabriele, and held on to her tightly. ‘I’m so happy, Gran.’

  ‘And so am I, Justine,’ Gabriele answered, her eyes moist. Her joy knew no bounds.

  Michael went to his grandmother and kissed her, and then to Gabriele. As he hugged her close, he whispered, ‘I’ll keep her safe always, Gabri.’

  Anita said, ‘This calls for pink champagne. Where’s Zeynep?’

  At this moment, Mehmet arrived with champagne in a bucket of ice, followed by Zeynep with a plate of hors d’oeuvres.

  Michael looked from Anita to Gabriele. ‘Why do I have a feeling you’ve both been one jump ahead of us?’

  Both of them laughed and made no comment. After Mehmet had poured the champagne, and they had clicked glasses, made toasts, Anita said, ‘This is so exciting. We must plan the wedding.’

  ‘No planning necessary,’ Michael announced. ‘We’re going to get married immediately. Well, in the next few weeks. A small wedding, just our families and a few friends. That’s what I’d like. What about you Justine? Agreed?’

  ‘Agreed. I think we should have it at Indian Ridge, don’t you, Gran? What do you think?’

  ‘Oh my goodness yes, what a fantastic idea! It’s the perfect place. And it’s the home of the bride, after all.’

  ‘A Jewish wedding,’ Anita murmured, glancing around. ‘And I shall design the huppah. The four poles will be decorated with white tulips and white roses, and the canopy will be white silk. What do you think, Gabri?’

  ‘It will be beautiful,’ she answered, ‘And when we get to Indian Ridge we’ll look for the perfect spot to put it.’

  Michael laughed, and said, ‘My mother is going to be so happy I’m marrying a Jewish girl.’

  ‘One who doesn’t know too much about Judaism,’ Justine murmured. ‘But I’m willing to learn.’

  ‘I’ll teach you everything,’ Michael shot back.

  FIFTY-TWO

  The little girl walking towards her wore a yellow muslin dress with a slightly billowing skirt, white ankle socks and black patent shoes with bows. She was carrying a yellow rose and looked very dignified as she stepped out with a certain aplomb.

  As she came closer, gliding through the shadowy hall, Gabriele saw that she had silky blonde hair and blue eyes, and the prettiest little face she had ever seen.

  Suddenly there she was, standing in front of her. Smiling. Doing a little dip of a curtsy. She offered Gabriele the rose, and said, ‘This is for you, Gram. I’m Daisy.’

  Bending down, taking the rose, Gabriele said, ‘Thank you, Daisy.’ She kissed her on the cheek. ‘It’s a beautiful flower and you’re a beautiful girl.’ The child laughed, twirled around and spotted Justine standing behind Gabriele. She rushed to her, throwing herself against her aunt’s body. ‘Juju! Juju! You’ve come back.’

  ‘Of course I have,’ Justine said, hugging Daisy to her, thinking how lovely she looked in the new dress.

  Daisy asked, ‘Did you go to see Mommy? Does she like Heaven?’

  They all looked at each other, speechless for a moment. Justine said, ‘I went to see Gran in Istanbul.’

  ‘Oh, where’s Itsabul?’ Daisy asked, and started twirling again, happy as a lark today, moving down the hall.

  Gabriele looked down the shadowy space, saw a man standing there, watching them. As he walked forward the breath caught in her throat. It was Dirk Landau. Her father. But obviously it wasn’t. It was her grandson Richard, who now at thirty-two was the spitting image of her father. He had the same shaped face, narrow, elegant. The broad forehead, the sculpted nose and a head of wavy hair.

  Richard was smiling and increased his pace.

  Gabriele moved quickly, and suddenly they were embracing in the hall. Richard was laughing, kissing her cheek, exclaiming, ‘Gran, oh Gran, welcome home! I’ve not been so happy for ages.’

  ‘And neither have I,’ Gabriele answered, standing away from him, looking up at him, her eyes roaming over his face. ‘You look just like my father, Richard. Now that you’ve grown up. I can see him in you so easily.’

  He nodded. ‘Remember, Gran, you’ve not set eyes on me for ten years. Unfortunately.’

  She simply nodded. Turning she said, ‘Come and meet my dearest friend, Anita, and her grandson, Michael Dalton. Justine’s fiancé.’

  The two men stepped forward, looked each other up and down and shook hands. They instantly liked each other. Then Richard walked over to Anita and shook her hand. He said, ‘That’s rather silly!’ He bent forward and kissed her on the cheek, and Anita was instantly smitten.

  Justine glanced around and asked, ‘Where are Joanne and Simon?’

  ‘They’ll be here soon, after everyone’s settled in,’ Richard said. ‘So come on, Gran, let’s go and see Tita and Pearl. They’re dying to give you hugs and kisses. That was the way they put it.’

  ‘What on earth did you tell them? I mean – about where I suddenly sprang from?’ Gabriele asked, frowning.

  Richard gave her a knowing look. ‘I told them the truth. That there’d been a quarrel. That we’d been led to believe you had died. Then we’d discovered you weren’t dead, and Justine went to find you. It’s much better than lying. What is it you used to say, Gran? Something like, let’s not get our knickers in a twist.’

  ‘That sounds like a Gabri remark,’ Anita murmured. ‘And where did little Daisy go? I haven’t kissed her yet.’

  On hearing her name, Daisy came dancing back into the wide part of the hall. She said, ‘Here I am.’ She was clutching two roses, one red, one white. She went up to Anita, did a little curtsy and handed her the red rose. ‘This is for you.’

 
Anita smiled at her, bent down and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Thank you, my darling. I know we’re going to be friends.’

  Daisy went to Michael, looked up at him, suddenly appeared to be a little shy. She gave him the white rose. He smiled, enchanted by her. ‘Thank you very much. It’s just right for my buttonhole.’ He smoothed his hand across the top of her blonde head. ‘I’m Michael,’ he murmured gently.

  She stared up at him, then smiled and danced away.

  Watching all this, Gabriele was overwhelmed. Her heart was full of love for this adorable child. Her great-granddaughter. It’s all been worth it just for this moment, she thought. To meet Daisy, to know of her existence, to have a chance to love her while I’m still fit and well. Oh, what a lovely time I’m going to have with her. She’s beautiful. A typical Landau. She has our genes, no doubt about that.

  Justine had managed to get everyone organized. Richard had taken their grandmother to the kitchen to be reunited with Tita and Pearl. And to meet Pearl’s husband Carlos, and his father, Ricardo. Daisy had accompanied them. Michael had gone off with Anita to look at the garden, to find the right spot for the huppah, and get a general idea of ‘the lay of the land’, as he called it.

  With everyone occupied and busy, she ran upstairs, went to check on the rooms. She had given Pearl her instructions from Istanbul on Monday, before they had flown out on Wednesday. They had spent last night at a hotel in Manhattan, which Michael had insisted was the easiest thing to do, because of the luggage. All belonging to the grans. After lunch today they had been driven out here to Connecticut in a limousine. ‘Very extravagant of you,’ she had whispered to Michael. He had merely grinned, knowing how much the grans were enjoying everything, and especially the streamlined car.

  Pushing open the door of the room that had always been her grandmother’s, she smiled when she saw how beautiful it looked. Pearl had filled it with flowers. All were Gabriele’s favourites. There was a bowl of mixed fruit on a tray. Bottled water. A dish of sweets. All of those little touches Gabriele had instilled in Pearl years ago. Everything sparkled. It was perfect.

  Justine had told Pearl to prepare the room across the hall for Anita, and when she looked in she saw that it too was shining clean, all the little mandatory touches in place.

  The third room at this end of the house would be used as a dressing room for Michael, a place to hang his clothes, have a bit of privacy. It also gave him his own bathroom. But he would share her bedroom. She smiled to herself. She knew he would insist on that.

  Pleased that the rooms on this floor were ready for everyone, Justine went into her own bedroom and closed the door.

  She sat down at her desk and quickly made a shopping list for Pearl, then sat back in the chair. Thinking. On Monday night Richard had called her in Istanbul, had told her that their mother was going to be in New York this coming week. ‘We must see her, confront her?’ he had said. She had agreed, had suggested he make the date. She would fit in with him.

  She had a problem. Should she tell Richard about Deborah’s rabid anti-Semitism first, and then give him the book? Or let him read Gabriele’s Fragments, and then inform him of her attitude later?

  Late on Saturday night in Istanbul she had confided in Michael, had told him the real reason Deborah had created the estrangement. He had been stupefied for a moment, and then furious. He had suggested that she give Richard the memoir this weekend, and then clue him in afterwards. Now she saw the wisdom in this. That is what she would do.

  Moving on, she wrote out a menu for Sunday lunch, which she would give to Pearl and Tita later. Michael’s sister Alicia and his parents were coming to spend the day. Naturally they wanted to meet her, and be with Cornelia’s mother, Anita. And she was itching to meet them, hoping they would like her. ‘Stop worrying,’ Michael had said on the plane to New York. ‘You’re already part of the family, dopey.’

  ‘I’m so happy you like the changes I’ve made,’ Richard said. ‘This is your house, your gallery, your estate, Gran. You created it all years ago. But I would have been really upset if you’d hated the offices. I put my heart and soul into them.’

  Gabriele glanced at him, exclaimed, ‘But I love your glass boxes, Richard. They are just dazzling. There’s no other word to describe them. And I think the gallery looks magnificent – the way you have opened it up is spectacular. And your rolling walls are a fabulous idea.’ As she spoke Gabriele pushed one of the walls, and it rolled across the floor. She walked through the new space, smiling. ‘See what I mean. And the sense of spaciousness is lovely and the paintings are so well displayed.’

  Richard followed her. ‘We have a lot of your paintings hanging on this wall, Gran. In fact, Justine’s favourite is right here.’

  Gabriele hurried over. She was pleased that her grandchildren had kept her work on view, but thought they weren’t good enough to be on display alongside some of the artists hanging here.

  After a moment, she said, ‘My paintings aren’t that bad after all, are they, Rich? Oh, here’s the one Justine loves! She was always so taken with it. Look Richard, that’s me, just there. And here’s Anita, next to me. We’re in the meadows of… er, er… some meadows. I used an old snapshot from 1938 as my inspiration.’

  Richard was staring at it. ‘I’ve loved it for as long as I can remember,’ he told her. ‘I wish you’d painted more, Gran. You have such talent.’

  Gabriele nodded. A rush of unexpected memories assailed her as she gazed at the painting of her and Anita: memories of Arabella, Irina and the Schloss in the Mark Brandenburg. Of their little abode, their hole in the ground that had been their safe haven… so many memories… so many years had flown by. Over sixty years, she thought.

  Her eyes were suddenly moist. She hoped Richard hadn’t noticed. No time for tears today, she thought. She had come home to her beloved Indian Ridge… and she was going to plan a wedding.

  Later that afternoon, Justine knocked on Richard’s bedroom door, poked her head around it. ‘You’re not napping, are you?’

  ‘No, I was just sitting here thinking about our mother. I can’t wait to tell her off, but I dread seeing her.’

  Justine came in, closed the door. ‘I know what you mean.’ She sat down, held the leather notebook on her lap.

  ‘What’s that?’ he asked, having just noticed it.

  ‘It’s for you, Rich. I want you to start reading it immediately. In fact, it’s imperative that you do so.’

  ‘Oh, why?’

  ‘Because you have to know what’s in here before we take on Deborah. It’s a sort of memoir Gran wrote over the last ten years. Bits and pieces of her life, she calls it. I read it in Istanbul and it’s extraordinary.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘No, I can’t. That’s not what Gran wants. She was going to leave it to us in her will, and then decided we should have access to it now. And she didn’t want me to tell you anything. She insists you read it for yourself.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll do that. It doesn’t look very long.’

  Justine simply nodded, went on, ‘Why is our mother in New York?’

  ‘She’s doing that big decorating job in Tokyo. I guess she cut short her buying trip in China. She’s here to buy art. Important art, she said. Frankly, I’m glad she’s in Manhattan. Having to fly out to the Coast to confront her would be a nuisance at this moment, what with your wedding coming up. We don’t have the time.’

  ‘It is more convenient that she’s here. I can’t wait to give her a piece of my mind. Have you made the date with her?’ Justine asked.

  ‘I said I’d call her tomorrow. She’s staying at The Carlyle.’

  ‘Make it for early in the week, Rich. Because Michael wants to come back out here on Thursday or Friday.’ Rising, Justine walked over, handed him the notebook. ‘I think you’ll have a few surprises,’ she said.

  FIFTY-THREE

  Justine and Richard sat together in the small lounge area of The Carlyle Hotel on Madison Avenue. It was five thirty o
n Tuesday afternoon. They had an appointment with their mother at six, and they were both nervous about seeing her.

  Justine said, ‘I know you’re still in a fury with her, Rich, and I don’t blame you. Anti-Semitism is vile. I think Gran is right. She said it was bred in the bone. Deborah inherited it from her father and grandmother when she was growing up in England.’

  He nodded. ‘As I told you on Sunday night, it came as such a shock after reading Fragments. I was moved by Gran’s story, admiring of her and her courage, and loving her more than ever.’ He paused, took a sip of water, added, ‘Our mother is insane. She’s always been a bit of a flake – soft in the head.’

  ‘I don’t know about flake. Surely wicked is a better word?’ Justine replied.

  ‘I can think of quite a few words to apply to her. Greedy for one. Selfish. Self-involved. Manipulative. A liar. A cheat. I could fill a yellow pad about her. By the way, how do you plan to handle this?’

  ‘I don’t know, Richard. I thought we should play it by ear. I want to tell her we know what she did, the lies she told about Gran being dead. That we’re on Gran’s side. That we don’t want her in our lives. Agreed?’

  ‘Absolutely. And I’ll take your lead. As I always have.’

  She glanced at her watch. ‘I’m glad we didn’t tell Gran she’s in Manhattan, aren’t you?’

  Richard said, ‘Absolutely. I don’t want Gran to be exposed to her in any way. It’s the first of June today, she’s going to be eighty this month. I don’t want her to have any aggravation with Deborah. I want to make this a happy month for Gran. She certainly deserves it, considering the life she’s had. And I certainly don’t want her to be upset just before your wedding. I’m sure you agree about that.’

  ‘I do, yes. And so does Michael. He’s still shocked about Deborah’s behaviour, totally dumbfounded that she broke up our family, isolated Gran, her own mother, for God’s sake. To say he’s livid about her anti-Semitism is an understatement.’