‘I like the smell of gardenias too,’ Jane replied, ‘but you’ve got to come up with a better name. You can’t call it just gardenia. That’s far too mundane. You must find a fancier name.’
‘Blue Gardenia,’ Christina suggested.
‘No, there was a movie with Alan Ladd called—’
‘That was The Blue Dahlia,’ Christina shot back, grinning. ‘Listen, Janey, I do like Blue Gardenia. It has a nice ring to it, and my mother does have the bluest of eyes…’
Jane smiled. ‘Then Blue Gardenia it must be. Actually, I like it, too, especially since you’re naming it for your lovely Mum.’ Jane suddenly began to sniff the air blowing in through the car windows. ‘Gosh, I can smell the flowers already. We must be nearly there,’ she said, slowing the car.
‘Yes, we are,’ Christina exclaimed, ‘look, there’s Grasse in the distance. I’d better keep my eyes open for the hotel when we get into the town… we’re staying at a place Giselle recommended—La Regent.’
Christina and Jane spent three days in the lovely little town of Grasse, which was situated in the Alpes Maritimes high above Cannes. It was a charming spot, ancient, and totally surrounded by field upon glorious field of flowers and magnificent rose gardens. Fragonard, the great French painter, had been born here, and there was a Fragonard Museum, which of course the girls gravitated to the first chance they had. They also spent time going around the splendid Gothic cathedral, and visiting the many famous gardens.
But mostly they were ensconced within the walls of the perfumeries, sniffing scents and talking to the chemists. In the end, Christina settled on two fragrances which would be created specially for her, to be marketed the following year. One would have gardenia as its base, the other roses, and their names would be Blue Gardenia and Christina respectively.
CHAPTER 42
‘I don’t think I’ve seen Hadley Court ever looking quite as beautiful as it does tonight,’ Christina said, turning to Jane’s father, smiling at him. ‘The flowers and candlelight inside the house create such a magical effect, and the gardens out here… why they are ethereal in the reflected light from the house.’
The famous actor, tall, rangy, with the look of the professor about him, followed her gaze across the lawns of his country manor house in Aldington in Kent.
‘Yes, the gardens do have a special quality, especially when viewed from this terrace… they’re like a backcloth on the stage tonight, almost too perfect to be real. But I don’t suppose there is anything quite as lovely as an English summer evening, after a day of truly glorious weather,’ Ralph said, his mellifluous voice echoing on the warm air.
His was one of the most celebrated voices on the English stage and Christina never tired of listening to it.
Ralph continued, ‘You said magical, Christie, and I do believe the entire evening has had a touch of magic to it, everything has gone so beautifully. And out here, now, it’s so gentle and balmy, and there’s not a whisper of that frightful wind we often get down here. Yes, we’ve been lucky, it’s been perfect July weather for Janey’s party.’
Turning to look at Christina, Ralph Sedgewick adopted a fatherly manner towards her, asked, ‘Have you enjoyed yourself, my dear?’
‘Oh yes, I have, Ralph, thank you very much. It’s been a simply gorgeous evening, but I am a little sad that Jane’s going off to New York for four or five months—I’m going to miss her terribly. Oh gosh, that sounded so selfish! I know you and Dulcie are going to feel it too, when she’s gone.’
‘Yes, we are,’ he admitted, ‘but I’m hoping we might be lucky enough to do a play on Broadway whilst she’s there. David Merrick wants us for a new comedy, so our American agent tells us. Anyway, Christie, aren’t you planning to go over to the States for a visit in October? At least I think that’s what Dulcie said to me?’ He made this sound like a question. ‘Or am I mistaken?’
Christina suppressed a smile of amusement. Ralph’s absentmindedness was an old joke within the Sedgewick family and Jane was forever saying the only thing her father could remember was his part in a play.
‘No, no you’re not wrong, Ralph. I do hope to be going over to America then,’ Christie told him. ‘My clothes have done well in New York, and Bergdorf Goodman have invited me to show my winter collection, after it’s opened here in London, of course.’
‘Congratulations, Christie, that’s wonderful.’ He squeezed her arm, smiled at her through warm hazel eyes. ‘I must admit, I am extraordinarily proud of you and my little Janey… you’ve both done wonderfully well since you graduated from the Royal College and—’
‘There you are!’ Jane cried.
Christina and Ralph swung to face her.
She glided through the French doors and out onto the terrace, her feet barely touching the ground. She was exceptionally happy tonight and she looked ravishing. Her Christina gown was made of tulle and lace, and it had a bouffant skirt decorated with lover’s knots picked out in silver and pearl sequins, and it floated around her like a soft hazy pink cloud shot through with iridescent lights.
‘I’ve been looking all over for the two of you. What a couple of fuddy-duddys you are, standing there, nursing your drinks… and gossiping, I’ve no doubt,’ Jane said. ‘What am I missing? No, don’t bother to tell me. You should both be inside, dancing and whirling around the floor.’
She grinned at them, tucked her arm through her father’s. ‘I must say, Daddy, that’s a really super band you found. They’ve got a fabulous beat, and they’ve got everybody really going at it, jiving it up. Come on, let’s go inside and shake a leg,’ she finished gaily, her voice and her face filled with her infectious girlish laughter.
Ralph gave her a loving, indulgent look. ‘I’m afraid I’m a little too old for that sort of thing,’ he announced. ‘And it’s jolly warm indoors, that’s why Christina and I came out here in the first place, to get a breath of fresh air.’
He swung to face the gardens again, put his brandy glass down on the stone wall of the terrace, reached into the pocket of his dinner jacket and took out a gold cigarette case.
After lighting a cigarette, he asked, ‘Where’s your mother, by the way? Don’t tell me she’s jumping up and down like a mad thing… not in this heat, I hope, at her age.’
Jane giggled. ‘Honestly, father mine, you do make Mummy sound old. She’s only fifty-one, for God’s sake. But no, she’s not dancing, she’s talking to Miles, who arrived a little while ago. And all on his little own too—’ Jane paused dramatically, rolled her eyes and made an ugly face.
‘Miles is here!’ Ralph sounded and looked extremely pleased.
‘He certainly is,’ a light, faintly amused voice said from the direction of the French doors.
‘Miles, old chap! How wonderful that you could make it after all!’ Ralph hurried forward, his hand outstretched.
The two men clasped hands, beamed at each other. They had only recently become friends, but they had liked each other immediately.
Miles said, ‘So sorry I wasn’t able to get here in time for supper, Ralph, but I got caught up in town… nothing I could do about it really… you know how it is… in my position…’ He allowed his voice to trail off, as if suggesting he had been detained by important Government business that could not be discussed. Top secret sort of stuff. Miles knew he had no need to explain his tardiness. Politicians were generally excused for this little social sin, if not for anything else they did.
Now he glanced at Jane, whom he had already greeted inside the house, and acknowledged her again with a slight nod, a half smile.
Ralph asked, ‘Are you quite positive you don’t want something to eat… a spot of cold supper? I know the buffet is still being served, Miles. And I must get you a drink. What would you like? A glass of—’ Ralph came to a stop as he realized that Miles was not really listening to him, that the other man’s attention was focused behind him.
Ralph swung around, apologetic. ‘How frightfully rude of me, Christina, my dear. Don’t h
ang back there. Do come and meet Miles.’
‘Yes, you must meet Miles,’ Miles said, stepping out into the middle of the terrace.
Jane said, ‘Excuse me, I’m going to get myself a glass of the old bubbly.’ She disappeared through the door, saying over her shoulder, ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
Christina moved forward slowly, conscious of the blue radiance of the eyes fixed so intently on her. There was a sudden constriction in her chest.
As he watched her approach, Miles Sutherland thought he had never seen such a lovely young woman. Her chestnut hair was swept up on top of her head to form a crown of curls. It was an odd style, reminiscent of the 1940s, and yet it suited her. She was dressed in a simple gown. Chiffon. Pale grey, Grecian in style. One shoulder bare. She wore a choker of beads and earrings that matched. Grey stones, resembling those huge grey luminous eyes that seemed to fill her face. Opals? Moonstones? He wasn’t sure.
He smiled, sensing a certain shyness in her, wanting to put her at ease.
Ralph cleared his throat, ‘Christina, may I present Miles Sutherland, one of our most brilliant politicians, as I’m sure you’re aware. And Miles, this is Christina Crowther, Jane’s dearest friend and flat mate, whom we consider to be a member of the family, actually.’
‘How do you do,’ Christina said.
Miles took the cool, tapering hand in his and held it tightly. Slowly he increased the pressure of his fingers, not wishing to let go of it. He knew at once that he wanted her. He aimed to have her.
‘I’m very pleased to meet you,’ Miles said finally, and reluctantly released her hand, adding, ‘I’ve heard a great deal about you—from my sister. She wears your clothes.’
‘Your sister?’ she repeated, feeling like an imbecile for not knowing who his sister was.
He said, ‘Yes, Susan Radley.’
‘Lady Radley?’ she asked and felt even more foolish.
He smiled, as if amused. ‘Yes.’ He glanced at Ralph, said, ‘I wouldn’t mind that drink, old chap, if you would show me where the bar is I’ll—’
‘No, no, stay where you are, Miles,’ Ralph insisted. ‘What would you like?’
‘Scotch, I think, with a splash of soda. Thanks, Ralph.’
Ralph Sedgewick looked at Christina. ‘You haven’t touched your cognac, my dear. Would you prefer something else perhaps?’
‘Please… a glass of champagne would be nice.’ She suddenly wished Ralph would not go away and leave her alone with this man who continued to stare at her with his curiously hypnotic eyes.
They were alone on the terrace.
Miles smiled a lazy sort of smile, gave her a long, searching look, as if answering a question in his own mind, then took out a packet of cigarettes. He offered her one silently. She shook her head.
After striking a match, drawing on the cigarette, he said in that same amused, superior voice, ‘Your newspaper photographs don’t do you justice, don’t you know… they make you look much older too… and tell me, how do you manage to cope with our national press? I find them a bit pesky myself, at times.’
Christina ignored the backhanded compliment he had paid her, said carefully, ‘I find the press—wonderfully well, thank you very much. They’re certainly extremely decent to me, but then I’m not a brilliant politician who’s always making national news.’
‘Touché.’ He laughed, moved closer to her and leaned against the stone balustrade, his posture nonchalant. He said, ‘That choker you’re wearing… are those moon-stones?’
Startled that he would ask a question about clothes, she said, ‘No, they’re just grey glass beads, but I liked the milky effect they have, that’s why I bought them.’
‘Do you ever wear opals?’
She shook her head.
He stared at her, his gaze speculative, appraising, bold.
She found herself returning his stare unblinkingly.
He said at last in a low, quick voice, ‘You should, you know. Opals would look lovely against that extraordinary skin… with those extraordinary eyes…’
Christina was startled. She could not answer him. Her legs needed support. She sat down on the balustrade.
Miles Sutherland could not tear his eyes away from her. She touched him in a way that he had not been touched in years and he felt curious stirrings within himself. His physical desire for her was hot and urgent.
To Christina’s immense relief Ralph walked out onto the terrace carrying their drinks.
She sat sipping her champagne, listening to the murmur of their voices as they spoke at length about British politics. But she was not really hearing anything at all. She was studying Miles Sutherland, wondering what it was about the man that so unnerved her. Was it his great presence? Force of personality? Charisma? She was not certain. He was not the most handsome man she had ever met, but he did have an attractive face, lean, intelligent, composed of uneven planes and angles. His hair was a dark blondish-brown that had a hint of grey at the sides. Slim and lean in build, he was not much taller than she was, only about an inch or so in fact.
It was his eyes, of course, that so mesmerized, had a spellbinding effect. They were a lovely clear blue that reminded her of an English sky on a summer day.
The two men continued to talk for a while, and she listened, let his voice roll over her, absorbing it, committing it to memory. It was full of shadings and nuances and inflections. She pictured him speaking in the Commons.
And suddenly Miles was standing in front of her, saying goodnight.
‘It was so nice to meet you,’ he said in a distant voice.
Christina slid off the balustrade, took his hand, shook it briskly. ‘I enjoyed meeting you,’ she said, forcing cheerfulness, and followed him into the house, her arm tucked through Ralph’s companionably.
Later, when she was in bed, she wondered why she was feeling so disappointed and let down.
CHAPTER 43
Jane exclaimed, ‘What a nerve he’s got, strolling in here, trying to seduce you!’
‘He didn’t stroll in,’ Christina corrected. ‘He phoned me at Bruton Street. And he’s not trying to seduce me.’
‘Oh yes he is.’
‘Don’t be so silly, Janey… over lunch?’ Christina began to laugh.
‘After lunch,’ Jane cried fiercely. ‘The French call it a matinée.’
‘This is London, not Paris, remember?’
Jane chewed her inner lip nervously. ‘My God, Mummy would have a fit—she’d be absolutely furious if she knew. After all, you met him through us down at Hadley.’
‘You’re not going to tell her?’ Christina sounded horrified.
‘Of course I’m not.’ Jane looked at her askance. ‘God, you can be stupid at times, Crowther… and you’ll certainly be bloody stupid if you go out with Miles Sutherland.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he’s dangerous. Emotionally dangerous. I just know it in my bones.’
‘You’re the one who’s being stupid now, and far-fetched. How can he possibly be dangerous to me?’ Christina demanded.
‘He’s married, for one thing.’
‘Estranged, separated. Everybody knows that. It was all over the newspapers ages ago.’
‘But he’s not divorced, Christie.’
‘I don’t know why you’re acting this way, Jane, I really don’t. Miles seems to be a nice man, and I’m sure he’s decent and honourable too.’
Jane let out a guffaw. ‘I bet he’s a cad.’
Christina gaped at her. ‘I don’t know what’s got into you today, making such sweeping statements.’
Jane stared at her dearest friend. ‘Okay, let’s go over a few facts. Miles Sutherland is good-looking and charming and he cuts quite a swathe at parties, I’ll grant you that. But let’s not forget that he also cuts quite a swathe in the House of Commons and that he is a brilliant and ambitious politician.’
‘I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at, Janey.’
‘Oh for God’s
sake, Christina, don’t be so bloody dense! There happens to be a woman in his life already, a woman called Candida Sutherland, who is his wife and the mother of his three brats. Who just happens to be the daughter—actually the only child—of one of Britain’s foremost industrialists. She’s got pots and pots and pots of money, and if—’
‘I know all that.’
‘And you can be damned sure that Miles Sutherland knows which side his bread is buttered on, my darling. Oh yes. When a man’s a Member of Parliament and a leading light in the Labour Party, with a spectacular career unfolding, his wife’s money comes in very useful indeed. Do you think he’s going to jeopardize all that—’
‘Jane, stop this!’ Christina spluttered. ‘You’re being absolutely preposterous.’ She let out a funny little laugh and eyed Jane curiously. ‘The way you’re talking, anybody would think we’re having a wild affair when—’
‘I bet he’d love that! Miles Sutherland looks very randy to me.’
‘—when I hardly know the man. Besides, he’s only invited me to lunch.’
Jane looked at her through narrowed violet eyes. ‘When a man like Miles Sutherland invites a woman like you to lunch, he has only one thing on his mind and it’s certainly not buying you a decent meal.’
‘I am going to have lunch with him, Jane, no matter what you say,’ Christina asserted in a firm tone.
‘I wish you wouldn’t… You just won’t be able to cope with it.’
‘With what?’
‘His bloody fatal charm and sophistication and smooth talk and all that sort of codswallop. Don’t forget, he’s a politician.’
‘I can take care of myself, Jane.’
‘No, you can’t.’
Christina said slowly, almost reflectively, ‘My mother had a friend once—Gwen. Auntie Gwen I used to call her when I was little. They were very close when they were young women, nurses at Ripon Fever Hospital. They really cared rather deeply for each other. But Gwen never did like Daddy much, which naturally made Mummy furious, and then Gwen married some awful twerp called Geoffrey Freemantle. Anyway, Geoffrey sort of came between them too, as my father had, in a way.’
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