‘Well, I’m sure glad of that for we haven’t a moment to lose.’
‘Jasper!’ Alison gasped. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’ Why didn’t you...? I’m supposed to be going out to dinner with...’
‘There’s no time for that now,’ Jasper said, taking her by the arm. ‘Just grab your coat and your hat - as they say in the song - and come along with me.’
Amazed to see her hesitate, Jasper continued. ‘Gee, Alison! A guy comes half way round the world to take you to see your big brother in concert at the Bar-bi-can or some such place and you talk about going out to dinner!’
‘Oliver’s in London! But how...’
‘Like I said, just get your coat and I’ll tell you on the way. The taxi’s waiting.’
‘Taxi!’ Alison looked towards the front gate where a black London cab was indeed waiting. ‘But I must ring Max! Tell him where I’m going.’
‘You can ring who you like, honey,’ came Jasper’s voice as he hurried towards the taxi, just make sure you do it in ten seconds flat. I want to get there before the interval, not after!’
Frantically ringing Max’s number, Alison was distraught to get no reply. Perhaps Max was still in the shower, or in the garden or even on his way! Anxiously she looked down the road in the vain hope she might see the familiar black Saab nosing round the corner. It was all to no avail.
In a last desperate attempt, Alison gave up on Max’s number and rang Connie instead.
‘Connie, thank God you’re at home.’
‘Alison? Is there anything wrong? You sound as if... ‘
‘Look Connie. I’m sorry I can’t stop now. There’s a taxi waiting to take me to London. I’ve just found out Oliver is playing...’
‘Oliver…? Your step-brother?’
‘Yes, that’s right and I’m afraid there isn’t time to explain. Can you please get hold of Max for me and say I’m sorry. Tell him, I’ll ring him tomorrow. It’s far too complicated to go into details now.’
‘But Alison...’
‘Problems?’ queried George, looking at Connie who was staring into the silent earpiece of the phone.’
‘You could say that,’ Connie replied. ‘That was Alison; she was just getting a taxi to London.’
‘London!’
‘Apparently Oliver is playing in a concert.’
‘What! That’s impossible. I thought Oliver was in the States.’
‘As did I, George,’ Connie said dejectedly. ‘So, who’s going to ring Max and tell him the bad news?’
‘It’s not exactly bad news, Connie. I mean if Oliver’s over here… And taking into account Alison was unable to go to the States at Christmas and New Year…’
‘I suppose not. But to me it’s bad news. Bunty and I were convinced Max was going to ask Alison to marry him this evening.’
‘There’s always tomorrow,’ George replied, patting her arm trying to sound helpful.’
‘I wish you hadn’t said that, George. Because in this instance, I’ve a horrid feeling tomorrow will never come.’
‘Connie! I think you’re over reacting a bit. Either that or you’ve been watching too many of those old Hollywood movies with Evangeline. Alison’s only gone to London.’
‘I know,’ said Connie, picking up the phone,’ but I do wish she hadn’t… that’s all.’
Having dialled Max’s number, Connie drummed her fingers impatiently on the hall table. ‘Oh, please be there, Max. Because if you’ve already left for Keeper’s Cottage, you’re in for an awful long wait.’
‘Max Craven,’ a breathless voice echoed down the line.
‘Max! Thank heavens I’ve caught you...’
‘Yes, but only just. I was in the process of locking the door, when I heard the phone. I’m on my way to fetch Alison or had you forgotten?’
‘How could I?’ Connie muttered to herself. Bracing herself for Max’s disappointment, she said hurriedly, ‘Actually… it’s because of Alison that I’m ringing. She tried to get hold of you... she’s had to go to London.’
‘London! But I was going to... we were supposed to be...’
‘I know,’ Connie broke in, ‘and she’s very sorry. Oliver, her stepbrother, is performing in a concert...’
‘But she never said! Why didn’t she tell me earlier? She could have rung.’
‘Quite possibly, because she didn’t know until the last minute?’ suggested Connie. ‘And anyway she did try to ring, but couldn’t get any reply.’
‘Damn! I thought I heard the phone, but there were people wandering about the gardens and I had to go and tell them this is now private property. I shall have to get Terry to put up a KEEP OUT sign.’
‘Naturally, Alison said she was very sorry. I expect she’ll explain everything when she sees you tomorrow.’
‘She’s not staying in London, then?’
‘I’m not altogether sure. I got the impression she was only going down for the concert.’
Max gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Oh, all right Constance. From what you’re saying, I shall have to wait until tomorrow. By the way, you and George don’t fancy supper, do you? I’ve all this food and...’
‘Sorry, Max. George and I have already eaten, we’re absolutely...’
‘No matter,’ Max said softly. ‘Perhaps I can find a cat to keep me company. There has been a stray about here these past few days.’
A cat, Connie puzzled. What did Max want with a cat?
‘Oh, and Constance,’ Max finished lamely, ‘thanks for ringing and letting me know.’
‘That’s OK, Max. I’m only sorry I had to. Goodbye.’
Chapter 24
With the taxi speeding towards London, Alison turned anxiously towards her stepbrother.
‘Now, will you please explain what is going on, Jasper? Why you didn’t let me know you were coming?’
‘Ollie and I thought we’d surprise you.’
‘You certainly did that! I only spoke to Oliver last week. He led me to believe you were filming in Australia and he was rehearsing for an Easter concert.’
‘We were.’
‘Then what went wrong?’ Alison said miserably, looking at her watch. By now Max would have realized they wouldn’t be having dinner together.
‘Say! You don’t sound very happy to see me, little sister,’ Jasper said, putting an arm about her shoulder. ‘I thought you and me were buddies.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. Of course I’m pleased to see you. When the doorbell rang, it wasn’t you I wasn’t expecting to see. I was expecting someone else.’
‘Aha!’ Jasper announced gleefully. ‘Do I take it my little sister has got herself a real boyfriend at long last. Well, that’s just fine Alison. When do I get to meet him?’
‘How long are you staying?’
‘That depends on lots of things. You, Ollie, my agent and a certain little lady I have waiting for me Stateside.’
‘I see you haven’t changed much. Still breaking hearts, wherever you go.’
‘Can I help it if they all fall in love with me little...’
‘Don’t you dare call me your little sister again. You’re not on the film set now, Jasper,’ Alison scolded. ‘You’re with someone who knows you very well, or had you forgotten?’
Dispensing with the film star persona, Jasper raked tanned hands through his mane of thick blond hair and sighed. ‘How could I forget, when you were always so neat and sensible and I...’
‘... was the mad cap tearaway, always trying to impress me and my friends,’ Alison finished for him.
‘Yeah, I guess. And I didn’t really succeed, did I?’
‘You might have impressed my friends, who all fell for your good looks and devil-may-care charm. But I was the one who used to pick up your smelly socks from the bathroom floor.’ Alison grinned wickedly. ‘I’m used to seeing you prancing about half-naked, remember? Quite frankly that tanned body of yours does absolutely nothing for me.’
‘Oh, Alison!’ Jasper cried in mock horror, holding
a clenched fist to his furrowed brow. ‘Don’t go on. Lady, you are too cruel!’
Alison dug him in the ribs playfully. ‘You should be on the stage at Stratford, not strutting about with some bimbo on Bondi Beach.’
‘Who said I was strutting about on Bondi Beach with a bimbo?’ Jasper asked deeply indignant.
‘Oliver. Like me, he thinks you should get down to some serious acting.’
Momentarily stunned, Jasper sat in silence while Alison tried to regain her composure. It had been a dreadful shock to find Jasper on the doorstep, not to mention the taxi with its engine running, waiting to whisk her away to London.
Now, looking at Jasper’s handsome, golden features, complete with square-cut jaw and penetrating blue eyes, she thought fondly of the days they’d all spent together in the New York apartment. Pure unadulterated luxury and such a far cry from Church Haywood and her time at Keeper’s Cottage.
‘So, how’s dear old Bunty?’ Jasper said, eventually.
‘Still your number one fan, and forever drooling over you whenever she sees you on TV.’
‘I’m glad someone still likes me.’
‘Oh, rest assured Bunty does. She even called her dog Jasper!’
Somewhat deflated, for the second time in fifteen minutes, Jasper held up his hands. ‘OK. You win. I guess to you I’m just a big-headed slob.’
‘No, you’re not.’ She kissed him warmly. ‘You’re my gorgeous stepbrother and I adore you. Now tell me about Oliver.’
During the remainder of the journey into London, Jasper explained how the original solo cellist booked for the evening’s performance, had slipped on a wet pavement and broken his wrist. Frantic phone calls between New York and London had ensued. Then, when Jasper had rung his older brother to announce he was returning the States – and would he meet him at the airport - he’d discovered Oliver was in the process of packing to fly to London.
‘So… I thought, wouldn’t it be great if I could arrange a stop-over in London, too? That way we could all be together. It was as simple as that!’
‘Not from where I’m sitting,’ Alison said to herself, when the taxi pulled up outside the Barbican’s stage door.
‘Better late than never,’ Jasper whispered, taking Alison’s hand as they were ushered inside. ‘At least we made it before the second half.’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Benedict, I’m afraid I can’t let you in until the interval. Barbican policy I’m afraid.’
‘That’s OK, honey.’ Jasper eyed the softly spoken young brunette approvingly. ‘We’ll watch the remainder of the first half on the video screen near the bar.’
‘I could perhaps arrange for you to be taken to your brother’s dressing room?’
‘No, thanks. Oliver prefers to concentrate on his performance during the interval. I think seeing Alison here might put him off his stroke, or whatever it is cellists call it.’
‘Very good, sir. But after the performance, I’d be happy to oblige.’
‘I sincerely hope you will,’ Jasper said.
‘Jasper, you’re incorrigible!’ Alison protested, walking across the smooth parquet floor to the nearest video screen.
Although the musicians on the stage looked so remote and far away, she had no difficulty in recognizing Oliver instantly. Unlike Jasper, who was gregarious, tanned and golden, Oliver appeared quiet, dark and mysterious. Some had even referred to him as mean and moody, but he wasn’t like that at all. Looking at him, even from this distance, Alison could see why, of course. Yet Oliver’s critics didn’t know the warm, sensitive being beneath the so-called mean and moody, cold exterior.
Far from it, Alison thought; in fact, Oliver was the perfect quiet American. Deeply thoughtful, caring and with a heart of gold. Like Jasper, she adored him too, but for different reasons. It was Oliver she’d been able to confide in when her mother’s cancer had shown no sign of abating, and Oliver who’d stepped in to handle all their financial problems and her step-father’s legacy.
Much as she wanted to see Oliver during the interval, Alison nevertheless knew Jasper had taken the correct decision to leave him alone. He lived, breathed and slept music, and unlike Jasper didn’t need the constant attention of young females. He was perfectly happy to be closeted for hours on end with Brunnhilde - his cello. In fact, somehow looking at Oliver’s strong dark features, Alison found herself thinking of Max. ‘Oh Max,’ she sighed. ‘I’m so sorry about tonight.
Seeing tears mist her eyes, Jasper put a comforting arm about her shoulders. ‘Say, are you OK, Alison? You look kinda pale.’
‘No, I’m all right... honestly. Listening to the music and looking at Oliver, I was reminded of Max. He’s a great fan of Schubert, too.’
‘I take it Max is your young man.’
Not exactly young man,’ Alison said softly. ‘In fact he’s older than Oliver.’
‘Jesus!’ gasped Jasper. ‘You mean the guy’s old!’
Alison found herself smiling. ‘No, not old either. He’s just... just perfect... and I love him desperately.’
‘Then we’d better make sure we get you back to this... Max as soon as the performance is over.’
Jasper gave Alison a hug and whispered in her ear doing his Humphrey Bogart impression, ‘Because looking at you, kid, I’d say this is kinda serious.’
‘Oh, it is, Jasper. Believe me… it is.’
During supper after the performance, Oliver reached across the table for Alison’s hand. ‘And what did you think of our little surprise?’
‘I thought it was lovely.’
‘Liar!’ Jasper teased. ‘If you’d seen her face when she opened the door, Ollie. I thought she was going to kick my butt and send me on my way.’
‘That’s not true! I’ve already explained, I was expecting you to be Max and...’
‘When I wasn’t,’ Jasper continued, good-humouredly. ‘Your face fell.’
Oliver looked bewildered and confused. ‘Max?’
‘Yeah, Alison’s boyfriend. Only by all accounts he ain’t no boy. Why, he’s even older than you, Ollie!’
A flicker of anger swept across Oliver’s face. ‘Jasper for goodness’ sake, get off the stage for once, will you? Are you saying that Alison had a special date with this friend of hers and you just dragged her away? I told you I was going to be here for at least three more days.’
Alison turned to stare at Jasper. He’d led her to believe Oliver was flying back to the States tomorrow.
‘Then I could have seen Max tonight after all,’ she said without thinking.
‘Yes, you could,’ Oliver replied, ‘and I’m sorry if we’ve ruined your evening.’
‘Of course you haven’t! It’s wonderful to see you both. Christmas and New Year just wasn’t the same without you.’
Heartened by her sudden change in spirits, Oliver called the waiter and ordered a bottle of champagne.
‘But what are we celebrating?’ Alison asked.
‘Christmas and New Year!’ came the reply.
*
At Craven’s Stables, Max poured away melted ice from the ice bucket and placed the bottle of champagne back in the fridge. The problem now was what to do with the two Dover sole he’d prepared for supper. Along with the dried and curled up crudités and salad, they looked exactly how he felt - flattened and drained.
Studying fish eyes, devoid of emotion, Max placed the sole in a plastic bag. It was far too late to do anything with them now. Perhaps in the morning he could take them to someone who had a cat. Perhaps in the morning too, he could go and see Alison - that’s if she was back from London. If only he had a telephone number for her.
Switching off the kitchen light, Max noticed the solitary violet he’d picked the day before. Alone in the crystal liqueur glass, its delicate purple flower with folded petals, rested against the rim.
Max groaned inwardly. He longed desperately for Alison. Ached for her in fact. Wanting to hold her head close to his chest and stoke her face, he was reminded of the way her still s
hort hair, parted in her sleep like… ‘Like petals,’ he mused fondly. ‘Like petals on violets.’
Oliver studied Alison’s gradual, drooping eyelids with concern.
‘You look tired, perhaps we should get you to a hotel.’
‘I can’t stay the night in London! I must get back! I told Connie to tell Max, I’d see him in the morning.’
‘But it’s morning now,’ Oliver said, looking at his watch.
‘No problem,’ Jasper announced chirpily. ‘I’ll take Alison back now.’
‘What!’
‘I’ll hire a car and drive her back.’
‘But it’s...’
‘Nonsense,’ Jasper intervened. ‘Look, Oliver, you look about ready for some shuteye too, so off you trot to your hotel with Brunnhilde and leave Alison in my capable hands.’ He grinned. ‘You forget I’m used to late nights, or should that be early mornings and I only had one glass of champagne, unlike the pair of you.’
Too tired to argue, Oliver watched Jasper deal with the car hire and turning to Alison, smiled warmly and gave her a reassuring hug.
‘Don’t worry. I know he can be a bit of a pain at times, but his heart and his other vital organs - from what I gather - are all in the right place. Jasper will get you safely back to Max, and I’ll try and get down to Church Haywood in a day or two, before I go back to the States.’
‘That would be wonderful,’ Alison said sleepily, kissing him goodbye.
‘Yeah,’ broke in Jasper, ‘so we both get to meet the mysterious Max!’
When the hire-car pulled up outside Keeper’s Cottage, Jasper nudged Alison gently. ‘Hey, sleepy head, wake up. We’re home.’
‘ What? Where are…’
‘At Keeper’s Cottage, and I can see a very bleary-eyed Bunty waiting on the doorstep to greet us. So are you coming in, or do you intend to sleep in the car all night?’
‘Poor Bunty. It really wasn’t fair of you to ring her and get her out of bed before we left. I have my own key.’
‘Yeah, but I thought she might worry if you came wandering home in the early hours with an unexpected man by your side. Or are you in the habit of doing that?’
‘No, I’m not!’ Alison replied, stepping from the car.
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