by Janet Tanner
Guy said nothing and Guillaume went on: ‘Talking of identification, there was something I thought of after you came here. I remembered some of the things were engraved with our name. Not all of them, of course. Many of them couldn’t be. But some of the silver … the candlesticks, for instance … had our mark on them. Still, I suppose that’s of no use now. Unless we could get in touch with the authorities who are investigating the island, of course,’ he added, brightening. ‘ Perhaps they could get into the villa and see what’s there.’
‘I doubt they’d be interested,’ Guy said swiftly. ‘They are drugs enforcement people, not ordinary policemen.’
‘Ah well.’ Guillaume sighed deeply. ‘It’s probably all for the best. I never wanted von Rheinhardt to be brought to justice after all this time. Raking up the past would have done more harm than good. But then, I expect you realise that now that you know the full story.’
‘Actually, Grandpapa, I think you all made far too much of it. Collaborating in the early days was a very understandable thing to do. I don’t think anyone would blame you too much, especially in the light of what happened later,’ Guy said.
A faintly puzzled look furrowed Guillaume’s brow. He passed his fingers lightly across his bloodless lips.
‘And what about the British agent? What do you think people would make of that? You do know about the British agent?’
Guy’s face took on a shut-in look.
‘The one my mother had an affair with, you mean? Well, yes, I can see that isn’t something you, or she, would want to be public knowledge. And I have to admit I was pretty shocked that she could betray my father in that way. But I don’t suppose it would exactly make world headline news.’
‘Guy.’ Guillaume hesitated. ‘I’m not sure we are talking about the same thing. In fact, I am not at all sure your mother has told you the whole truth.’
Guy found himself remembering his own earlier suspicions concerning his mother’s absence when he had been a child.
‘You mean there’s more? He wasn’t killed and she ran off with him? Christ, no wonder she didn’t tell me. She’d know how I’d feel about it, I imagine.’
‘It wasn’t like that,’ Guillaume said slowly. ‘I think I am going to have to fill you in on a few points, Guy. I am glad, of course, that you feel such loyalty to your father. But it must not be at the expense of your regard for your mother. No, I won’t stand by and see that happen. We didn’t always see eye to eye, Kathryn and I, but I admire her all the same for a number of reasons. Not least in the way she has brought you up and made your father an icon in your eyes, in spite of everything.’
‘In spite of the fact that she loved another man?’
‘No – in spite of what your father did to him.’ Guillaume faced his grandson squarely, his mind made up that at last the full truth must be known. ‘Your mother had an affair, yes. The rights and wrongs of that could be argued by anyone knowing the way things were at the time, but I am not going to go into that now. Suffice it to say I cannot find it in my heart to blame her too much. But your father blamed her all right. He blamed her so much he betrayed the British agent to the Germans – and very nearly got you, your mother and your Aunt Celestine killed into the bargain. He didn’t know, of course, that you would be there that night. But it was unforgivable, what he did, all the same. He wanted to see Paul Curtis captured and killed and he betrayed him to von Rheinhardt. A man who was here risking his neck to help us, and your father let his personal jealousy dictate his actions.’
Guy had turned pale.
‘Grandpapa – he couldn’t!’
‘He did. He admitted it to me himself. The guilt nearly killed him. It did kill him. When he could bear it no more he gave himself up to von Rheinhardt, demanding to take the place of one of the hostages. It was an act of heroism, yes, but he did it because he could no longer live with the knowledge of what he had done.’
Guy was silent, trying to assimilate what he had been told. At last he shook his head.
‘But why didn’t Mum tell me this? Why did she let me go on thinking …?’
‘She wanted you to respect him, Guy. And so you should. We are all human, God knows. None of us is perfect. Why should your father be any different? But it isn’t right that you should canonise him and underestimate your mother. She is a remarkable woman.’ He was silent for a moment, then he went on: ‘You know, of course, that she worked for the Resistance herself, I presume?’
‘While she was here – in France?’
‘No, afterwards. She worked for a special branch of the SOE, gathering information, making contacts, escorting out those who wanted to go over. I imagine she was perfect for the job, an Englishwoman who could pass as native French. She never came back here, of course, but I gather she came in and out of France on different missions at least six times. And you never knew?’
‘No.’ So that was the reason she had been away so much when he had been a small child. The story about working for the Ministry in Scotland had been a blind. Had his grandmother, who had looked after him, known the truth? He doubted it.
But why had Kathryn kept her secret all these years? He shook his head, puzzled still, yet with the beginnings of a deep respect stirring in him. She had done this for his father. All this time he had been idolising his father as a hero of the Resistance when in reality he had been little better than von Rheinhardt. No, not true, but all the same …
‘We are all human,’ Guillaume had said. How true that was! Now he, like Lilli, had to make some adjustments to his view of those he loved. The irony was supreme.
‘Yes, your mother is a remarkable woman,’ Guillaume said again. ‘Treasure her, Guy.’
‘I do.’ But now, knowing what he did, he realised that in the recent past, at least he had been less than fair to her. He would put that right as soon as possible.
‘Oh – I almost forgot.’ Guillaume said suddenly. ‘A letter came for you, Guy.’
‘A letter for me? Here?’ He was puzzled but still too preoccupied to give it much thought.
‘Yes. With a Caribbean postmark. When we first saw it we thought it must be from you – until we saw that you were the addressee.’
‘Strange. Who on earth in the Caribbean would write to me here? Air Perpetua have my home address.’
‘Here you are.’
Guillaume crossed to his desk, leafed through the papers stacked there and produced an envelope. Guy took it, looking at it curiously. He did not recognise the writing and could not imagine who the letter could be from.
He took his grandfather’s paperknife and slit open the envelope, drawing out the two sheets of paper inside and flicking over the first so as to see the signature at the end.
Then he froze, the blood clamouring at his temples.
Lilli.
‘Excuse me, Grandpapa, I think I’d like to read this in private,’ he said.
‘Of course, Guy, of course.’
But he hardly heard his grandfather’s reply. He was already on his way out of the study.
Lilli was standing on the veranda looking out into the soft darkness, drinking in the scents and sounds of the Caribbean night. In two days’ time she would be leaving Madrepora for ever and she wanted this much at least to take with her and remember for the rest of her life.
Strange, she thought, how after all the traumatic events, it was only the happy times that were with her now. The villa was empty of all the familiar things which had made it her much-loved home, yet it seemed vibrant with the ghosts of the past, every room echoing with her childish laughter, every corner presenting her with memories. In the salon and the study her father’s presence was still very real, not the tortured wraith of the past weeks but the powerful figure he had once been; out here on the veranda her mother’s perfume seemed to mingle with the scents of the night. So real did she seem that Lilli felt that if she turned swiftly enough she would see her sitting there in the rattan chair, her scarlet-tipped fingers playing with the stem of a gl
ass as she sipped at a fine champagne, bangles jangling around her slim wrist.
My happiest times were spent here, Lilli thought. Nothing that came afterwards can take that away.
The ache within her grew and spread and Lilli knew that leaving, never to return, would be the hardest thing she had ever done.
She had left before, of course, promising herself she would never come back. But there had been no finality to that leaving. She had known, deep down, all the time, that her father and her home would still be here waiting for her if she changed her mind. This time she had no such consolation. Someone other than her father would own Madrepora. Strangers would move into the villa, impressing their personalities upon the rooms along with their furniture and effects. The old and familiar would be gone forever as if it had never been.
Dear God, I can’t bear it! Lilli thought. This place is a part of me and I am a part of it.
Within the villa the telephone began to ring, startlingly loud in the stillness of the night. Lilli frowned, wondering who could be calling. Ingrid, perhaps? She had left for Germany the previous morning. Perhaps she was phoning to say she had arrived home, but Lilli could not imagine it. They were not that close and they had said their goodbyes. Besides, it would be the middle of the night in Germany.
Lilli lifted the receiver, brushing her hair aside to hold it to her ear.
‘Hello?’
The line was crackly and not very clear. But for all that the voice at the other end was excitingly familiar.
‘Is that you, Lilli? It’s Guy.’
The blood rushed to her cheeks, and she was suddenly tinglingly alive.
‘Guy! I … You got my letter?’
‘Yes. I was afraid you might already have left Madrepora. I tried to ring earlier but there was no reply.’
‘I’ve been out.’ She did not explain that she had been touring the island, revisiting old haunts, for the last time. ‘Where are you?’
‘France.’
‘France! But it must be the middle of the night there!’
‘It’s very late, yes. I just kept trying your number. I wanted to speak to you.’
She laughed nervously.
‘After what my letter told you I didn’t think you’d ever want to speak to me again.’
‘It wasn’t a surprise to me, Lilli. I already knew. In fact … look, it’s a long story. When are you due to leave?’
‘The day after tomorrow. Why?’
‘Don’t go,’ he said. ‘I’m coming back.’
‘You’re … what?’
But the line had gone dead. Lilli stood holding the telephone, staring at it in disbelief. Guy – coming back! Why … why?
But in her heart she knew. And the happiness began inside her, the first half-fearful bubbles rising through the well of darkness and quickly exploding in a fountain of joy.
Guy was coming back. At that moment nothing else in the world mattered.
‘You mean you knew all the time about Daddy and you said nothing,’ Lilli said.
‘I didn’t want to hurt you any more. You’d had all you could take.’
‘Oh Guy!’ she said softly.
They were in the salon, bare now but for the crates containing the treasures packed and ready for shipping.
He had flown in earlier that day in an Islander which he had hired when he landed at the international airport, and the first awkwardness between them had soon melted, though they had not yet quite regained their previous easy rapport.
‘I wanted to leave you something,’ he went on. ‘And I knew, after the day I came back here with you, just how much these things meant to you.’
‘But they are your family’s heirlooms!’ she said. ‘As soon as I realised that I knew I had to return them to you. They had been in your family for generations and that is where they belong – to be there for your children and your children’s children.’
He did not speak the thought that was in his mind – the hope that perhaps even yet the treasures would not be lost to Lilli; that his children and grandchildren would be hers also. It was too soon for that. Yet somehow it was as if she shared his unspoken thoughts, for a faint pink colour came into her cheeks.
‘I know all about inheritance, you see,’ she said. ‘ I’m just trying to come to terms with leaving mine behind for ever. It’s very hard – you don’t know how hard. I don’t think even I realised how much I loved Madrepora until I faced up to the fact that soon I’ll never see it again. And that strangers will be living in our house and taking over all the haunts I thought of as mine.’
He sipped the drink she had made him, regarding her over the rim of the glass and loving every line of her face and body with an intensity he bad never believed himself capable of.
‘Maybe not strangers,’ he said evenly.
She looked up at him, puzzled.
‘But Madrepora is to be sold.’
‘Yes, I know.’ He hesitated, awkward again, not quite knowing how to tell her this. ‘I think we may be going to put in an offer to buy it.’
‘You … Madrepora …?’
‘Yes. My grandfather is a very wealthy man, and he rather likes the idea of a Caribbean hideaway. He’s suffering at the mercy of a European winter and he thinks the sun would warm his bid bones. Personally I doubt he’ll ever leave Charente now, even for a holiday – it means every bit as much as Madrepora does to you, and probably more. But it’s his way of justifying the idea.’
‘I don’t know what to say!’
‘Madrepora could be a wonderful exclusive holiday island. The hotel could be developed for legitimate guests and a few luxury homes built. What’s more, there is a shocking lack of air taxi facilities here now that Air Perpetua has gone – and I always fancied being my own boss.’
‘You mean … you’d come here and operate a charter company?’
‘That’s exactly what I mean. It would only be a small outfit, of course – I wouldn’t want the paperwork to take up so much time that I wouldn’t be able to fly myself. Though I suppose I could always employ someone to take care of that side of things. And we shall have to put in someone to run the hotel and perhaps develop the marina. I know nothing whatever about business and my grandfather is too old to want to be bothered with it either, though in his heyday I’m sure he could have organised it single-handed.’
‘It’s a wonderful idea, Guy!’ Her eyes were shining. ‘You’ve no idea what it would mean to me to know that Madrepora was in good hands. I’d love to think of you here.’
He raised his glass, sipped, looking at her speculatively.
‘Actually, Lilli, I was rather hoping you might do more than just think of Madrepora. I was hoping perhaps I could persuade you to stay and help me develop it.’
She caught her breath. He could see he had taken her totally by surprise.
‘You mean … work for you?’
‘Not for me – with me. We could make quite a team, you and I.’ He did not add that he was thinking of more than simply business when he said it.
‘Oh Guy, I don’t know! I’ve got a job in New York … an apartment …’
His heart sank.
‘Well, I suppose if you don’t want to …’
‘I never said I didn’t want to! I just said I don’t know! Are you really sure? You are buying the island?’
‘Sure as I can be’
‘Can I think about it?’
‘Of course.’
She touched her fingers to her lips. They were speaking words that were quite different to what was in her heart. She didn’t need time to think – she already knew what she would do. To be able to stay on Madrepora and help bring about all the changes that would transform it into the island paradise she had always believed it to be, and to be with Guy into the bargain? No, it wasn’t a decision that needed much thought at all!
She glanced around the room; saw the boxes packed and ready for shipping.
‘And the treasures?’ she said. ‘What will you do with them?�
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‘Well,’ he said slowly, ‘I think they should go back to France for the time being. It would mean a great deal to my grandfather to have them back in the château. But one day they will be mine. When they are, I’ll think again. Whether to leave them in the family home or whether to bring them back here … it will depend on the cirumstances at the time.’
His eyes met hers and without a word being spoken she knew what he meant. She stretched out her hand to him.
‘Whatever you decide, Guy. But they are still only objects, however beautiful and however valuable. There are other things that are worth far more.’
He took her hand.
‘Yes, there are.’
And without another word being spoken she knew what he meant.
She had been through hell and now miraculously it was all coming right. She couldn’t believe it yet, didn’t dare believe it, yet knew in her heart that it was so.
The soft Caribbean moonlight slanted in through the slatted windows, illummating the bare room and the two people with eyes only for one another.
This, Lilli knew, was truly the Eden Inheritance.
Copyright
First published in 1994 by Century
This edition published 2014 by Bello
an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
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ISBN 978-1-4472-6642-6 EPUB
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Copyright © Janet Tanner, 1994
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author of this work has been asserted in accordance
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