Vidal swerved to a halt. She didn’t wait for him to open her door. She was out of the car and he strode round to her, seizing her hand, and then they were laughing, running up the flight of stairs to Leila’s apartment, slamming the door shut behind them, discarding their clothes in a fever of impatience.
Their lovemaking in her dressing-room had been savage and urgent, a physical explosion of the pent-up emotions of years of hungry longings. Even now it was not sated. Neither of them could wait. There were no preliminaries. No soft words or caresses.
‘Oh please! Please! PLEASE!’ she begged as her nails scored the lean, tanned contours of his body and his weight pinned her down, a willing captive, on Leila’s bed. He did not take her body, he plundered it. He entered her like an arrow entering the gold and she sank her teeth into his flesh, arching her body to his in an ecstasy of total submission. Past, present, future, merged into one and in all the world there was only Vidal, Vidal and Vidal.
Afterwards he made love to her again. This time with care and with skill and with a love so intense that he thought he would die of it. There was neither time nor place. No world outside. They were together again. Their bodies fused, their beings once again one. Her orgasm left her almost senseless. As it ebbed and she clung to him, she licked a rivulet of sweat away from his neck and wondered how she had ever imagined that she could live without him.
‘I shall leave New York in the morning,’ he said as he rolled away from her.
For a moment she thought that she had not heard right and then her blood chilled and it seemed as if her heart had ceased to beat.
‘Why?’
He was leaning back against the bed-head, drawing her against the heat and strength and familiar nakedness of his chest.
‘To tell Kariana that it is the end. That I wish to marry elsewhere.’ His voice was deep, smoke-dark, and at the certainty of its tone her fear ebbed.
‘Is she still…ill,’ she asked, as his fingers caressed her hair, the nape of her neck.
‘Kariana will always be ill,’ he said gently. ‘But these last years have not been like the earlier ones. She is quieter now. Hazel is still with her. My divorcing her will not change the way she lives. I doubt if she will even notice the difference.’
His voice held inestimable sadness but there was no pain. That had long since been spent. Kariana would continue to live as she did now. He could afford to see that she was adequately protected against the encroaching world. But he could no longer sacrifice his life for her.
He touched her face tenderly. ‘Will you tell me now?’ he asked, ‘… about Paulos?’
She nodded. She had spoken about Paulos often to Leila, but she had never spoken about the dreadful night of his death. Not even to Evangelina. Now she told Vidal everything. She told him of how good he had been to her. Of his kindness and gentleness. She told him of their travels to London, Paris and Vienna and of how they had always been happiest in their little white-washed villa on the shores of Crete. She told him of the night he had died. Of how, when it was too late, she had realized the depth of her love for him. Of how she had wanted to tell him that he had come first. That he hadn’t been, as he had always believed, second best.
Vidal was silent. He had a lot to thank the dead Paulos Khairetis for. The knowledge expunged all jealousy. He had noticed that in her hotel suite a photograph of Paulos stood on a low table in a silver frame. Wherever they went and wherever they lived, he determined that the photograph would remain in view. Though he had never known Paulos Khairetis, he knew he would always remember him as a friend.
Clasped in each other’s arms, they slept, and when they awoke it was to a peace that both had thought lost to them forever.
It was eleven o’clock before either of them thought of breakfast or newspapers.
‘Oh God,’ Valentina said, sitting suddenly upright, her naked breasts and shoulders flushed from lovemaking. ‘The reviews! What if they’re awful? What if last night was a fluke and the critics weren’t the ones applauding and they really thought it was awful!’
Vidal laughed at the agony in her voice. ‘You make the coffee,’ he said, ‘I’ll go out and buy every paper in town.’
The reviews were ecstatic. Aeelaim for her performance was lavish and unanimous. She rifled through them, not fully convinced until she had read the very last one.
‘Satisfied?’ Vidal asked, quirking an eyebrow in amusement as he poured her yet another black coffee.
‘Yes, thank God,’ she said devoutly.
‘You realize that no one, apart from Leila, knows where you are? Stan Kennaway is probably heading for a coronary.’
‘I must ring him. And I must get back to the Plaza and Alexander. Ruby is probably under siege from reporters demanding my presence.’
‘And I must return to Hollywood,’ he said, his face suddenly grave. ‘I shall tell Kariana immediately. This time there is going to be no subterfuge. No lies. I don’t care if the whole damned world knows that we are lovers.’
Thirty minutes later they stood on the sidewalk. Vidal was driving directly to the airport; Valentina was returning to the Plaza by cab.
‘When will you be back?’ she asked, raising her face for his last kiss.
‘Almost immediately. I’ll speak to my lawyer later today. Don’t worry, my love. Nothing will go wrong this time. I promise.’
They kissed long and lingeringly, oblivious of the curious stares of passers-by.
‘I love you,’ she whispered as he stepped away from her. ‘I love you. I always have loved you and I always will.’
‘Then be patient,’ he said, his dark face brilliant with an expression of fierce love, ‘just for a little while longer. Then we will be together forever.’
She stepped into her cab, looking through the rear window until the Pierce-Arrow had disappeared in the mainstream of traffic.
‘The Plaza Hotel please,’ she said to the driver, and wondered why, when at last she had all that she had longed for, she was filled with a nameless fear.
The hotel was besieged by reporters and photographers and fans and Stan was pacing the room, clutching his heart.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ he yelled, as she finally entered her suite after a near hour long battle with the crowd hemming her in on all sides.
‘Leila’s.’
‘F’Christ’s sake, Leila was here hours ago!’
Valentina tried to look contrite and failed. ‘Sorry, Stan, but that’s where I was.’
Alexander pushed Stan and hurtled into her arms. ‘Have you seen the flowers, Maman? There’s hundreds and hundreds of them. Millions!’
‘Do stop pacing the room, Stan. I’m back. The show is a success. For goodness’ sake, stop looking as if you’re on the verge of a breakdown and have a drink.’
She poured him a Scotch and he took it gratefully.
‘You don’t understand,’ he said, sitting down at last. ‘I thought the excitement of last night had been too much for you. That you were suffering from amnesia, That you wouldn’t be back in time for the performance tonight.’
‘Well, I am back,’ Valentina said spiritedly. ‘And I am most definitely not suffering from amnesia…’
There was a loud knock at the door. ‘I told reception that no one was to be allowed up,’ Ruby said apologetically, ‘but people keep getting in. One gentleman said he used the fire escape and another that he used the service hatch!’
The sharp authoritative knock came again but before Valentina could reach the door it opened and a smiling Denton Brook-Taylor entered.
‘Valentina, my dear! You were magnificent! Superb!’ He was beaming in a way Stan had never seen before. ‘Now that we have scored one major success, I want to set about planning another triumph.’
Stan stared at him. He couldn’t possibly be planning another Broadway play. Hedda Gabler was all set for a long run.
‘Would you like a drink, Denton?’ Valentina asked, pouring herself a white wine.
; ‘Bourbon please,’ Denton said expansively.
Stan’s eyes sharpened. He had known Denton a long time but he had never seen him in this jovial, hail-fellow-well-met mood before, and he didn’t find it at all reassuring.
‘What is it you have in mind, Denton?’ Valentina asked, her interest polite but not caught.
‘Movies,’ Denton Brook-Taylor said, gratified at the sudden turn of Stan Kennaway’s head in his direction. ‘I want to make you into a limited company, Valentina. That way any further movies you make, you will reap the benefits. The profits won’t all go into the pockets of the movie moguls.’
‘And who is going to finance these as yet unmade movies?’ Stan asked drily.
‘I am, of course.’
Stan smiled. ‘Then all you will be doing is putting yourself in the position of the movie mogul.’
Denton’s grey eyes were glacial. ‘I shall ignore that remark. I’m sure you are aware that it was ill-timed and in bad taste. I’m interested in putting my money behind movies in which Valentina stars and in seeing to it that she reaps the full benefits from such a deal.’
Stan eyed him cynically. There was a lot more that he could say, but to do so would be unwise.
‘From now on, Valentina, I want to take care of all your business affairs with my staff of handpicked experts. Agreed?’
Valentina laughed. ‘No. You’re rushing me, Denton. I’m not convinced I need a team of handpicked experts to handle my financial affairs. I’ve managed fine on my own so far.’
‘But you haven’t.’ Denton met her eyes steadily. ‘In Hollywood, your salary may have seemed enormous to you, but the profits Theodore Gambetta made from your movies were staggering. I don’t ever want to see you go back to the Hollywood studio system.’
‘After my court battles with Theodore, I have no desire to return to the studio system myself,’ Valentina said drily.
‘Then let us make you Valentina Productions!’ Denton said triumphantly. ‘We can choose the stories. You’ll have complete authority over which parts you play. Over who co-stars with you. Over everything. All I have to do is set up a proper company for you once and for all.’
Valentina took a sip of her wine. Denton Brook-Taylor was a banker of sound reputation. When it came to finance, he undoubtedly knew far more than she did. More to the point, what he said was true. She had no desire to return to Hollywood under the old studio system. Yet she did want to make more movies. There was an awful lot of sense in what he was saying and she would be a fool to dismiss it out of hand.
‘I’ll need to think about it, Denton, and I’ll need to talk about it to Vidal.’
Stan’s head swung in her direction. For a fleeting instant he wondered if Valentina and Denton had already got together and decided to make a movie with Vidal Rakoczi as director. The doubt immediately faded. Denton might wheel and deal behind his back, but Valentina never would. If she needed to speak to Vidal Rakoczi about a major decision in her life, it was because he was her oldest friend.
At the mention of Vidal’s name a flicker crossed Denton’s eyes and was immediately suppressed.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Vidal Rakoczi is just the kind of man whose advice would be invaluable.’
Stan was tempted to say that the news came as a great surprise to him, since the last time Denton had mentioned Rakoczi’s name was to refer to him as an Hungarian bastard. He kept his mouth shut. So far he couldn’t see that anything Denton was doing was harming Valentina’s life or career. If and when it did so, he would have a word with her. Till then it was easier to remain silent.
Before he boarded his plane for the west coast, Vidal telephoned his New York lawyer telling him tersely that he wanted to file for a divorce immediately and that he would speak to him at length when he returned to New York after informing Kariana of his decision.
He had no doubts or qualms. It had been years since he had been intimate with Kariana. He was merely a haven and a refuge to her. The charade had gone on long enough.
When his plane landed at Los Angeles he was tired but too impatient to telephone his Beverly Hills home and request that his chauffeur pick him up. Instead, he got a cab and as Hazel Renko saw it enter the gates of Villada, she was filled with foreboding. Never, in all her years in his employment, had she known him to arrive home without a phone call announcing that he was on his way.
‘Is Kariana in bed?’ he asked, as his coat was taken away by the butler and Hazel poured him a vodka and blue curaçao and soda.
‘Yes, but I don’t think she’s asleep.’ She hesitated. Kariana’s sleeping pattern had become very erratic. Her moodiness had returned. There were temper tantrums over the least thing. Frightening displays of sudden violence. The period of comparative calm and normality was coming to an end. She was aware of an unusual tenseness about Vidal and decided that the news could wait till morning.
Vidal drained his glass. Hazel Renko had been part of his household for five years. When he divorced Kariana, Kariana would need her calm presence more than ever. It was only fair that Hazel should know what his intentions were.
‘I’m going to speak to Kariana tonight,’ he said, ‘and before I do so, I had better tell you what it is I am going to tell her.’
Hazel felt her legs weaken. If Vidal had chosen this moment to tell Kariana that he wanted a divorce, it would send her over the edge completely. The next days and weeks would be a living nightmare. She sat down and waited, white-faced.
‘I intend to divorce Kariana,’ Vidal said, his face sombre. ‘I want to marry again, and I want to marry again quickly.’
‘Don’t tell her now,’ Hazel pleaded. ‘There’s been a complete turn-around in her condition.’ She wished she had poured herself a drink when she had poured Vidal’s. ‘She’s been moody and silent for long periods and then, for no reason, she has become hysterical. Wait till her mood swing changes; until she’s calmer.’
‘I don’t have time,’ he said, his jaw tightening. ‘There’s a child. MY child.’
‘I see.’ Hazel’s voice was barely audible. He would want to marry before the baby was born. There would be no time for Kariana to adjust to the fact that Vidal was leaving her. She wondered how Kariana would react to such a shock, and a knot of dread grew deep within her, tightening and twisting. It would be enough to plunge Kariana into a state of complete mania.
‘When is the baby due?’
Vidal raised a dark eyebrow and said wryly, ‘The baby is already four years old.’
Hazel stared at him. ‘I’m sorry Vidal, I don’t understand.’
For the first time since he had entered the room, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. ‘I don’t blame you, Hazel. When Valentina left Hollywood, she was carrying my child. Now she is back and I am going to marry her.’
Hazel exhaled slowly. Valentina. Nothing had ever been said but she had always known. She had sensed it the first time she had set eyes on her. When Valentina had married and left Hollywood she had thought for a while that she had been mistaken, but Vidal’s behaviour had shown that even if Valentina’s heart was now elsewhere, his was not. For Vidal, it had always been Valentina. It always would be.
‘Then you had better tell her,’ she said simply.
He nodded, put down his empty glass and began to walk towards Kariana’s bedroom.
The drapes were pulled back as they were night and day. The moon was riding high over the La Cahuenga Pass, the stars low in the night sky. She was pacing the room restlessly, her lace-edged negligée whipping about her ankles as she reached the vast windows and spun on her heel, retracing her steps for the hundredth time towards the door. As he entered her head shot up, the pupils of her eyes mere pin-pricks.
‘You’re back!’ It was an accusation, not a statement. The lines of Vidal’s mouth tightened. Hazel had been correct when she had said that Kariana’s condition had once more deteriorated. The tone of her voice was no longer soft and low. It was harsh and shrill. He gazed at her despairingly, r
emembering how exquisite he had thought her when they had first met. Now her beauty was transformed into macabre ugliness.
‘I need to talk to you, Kariana,’ he said, a pulse throbbing at his temple.
‘Talk!’ She whirled on her heel again, pacing back towards the window.
He had waited eight years. He had protected her, pitied her, and now he could wait no longer. ‘I want a divorce, Kariana,’ he said, his voice as gentle as possible.
She spun round to face him, her brows high with surprise and then she began to laugh.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Vidal. You can never have a divorce. I’m a Dansart. Dansarts don’t divorce.’
‘It will make barely any difference in our relationship. I will still see that you have the best care when you are ill. I’ll make a large financial settlement. You can have the house and everything in it.’
She flew across the room towards him, clawing at his face. ‘Ill? Is that what you think I am? Ill? There’s nothing wrong with me, Vidal Rakoczi, except that I married beneath me! Fuck you and your financial settlements! You’re not going to discard me, you Hungarian bastard!’
Vidal passed a hand across his eyes. When she was well, Kariana never even uttered the word ‘damn’. He wondered where that other Kariana went to at moments like this. He had been a fool to try and talk to her when Hazel had warned him of her mood.
‘Go to bed, Kariana,’ he said wearily. ‘We’ll talk tomorrow.’
He turned on his heel, and left the room, ignoring her shouted obscenities. In the morning he would talk to Grossman. He was not going to be able to return to Valentina as soon as he had hoped. He needed Grossman with him. He could no longer handle Kariana alone.
‘Bastard!’ Kariana shouted as his steps receded down the corridor and her high-pitched laughter turned to tears. ‘I’ll teach you to threaten to leave me!’
She rushed across the room to her bedside table where her cigarettes and lighter lay. It was Hazel he wanted to marry. She had always known it. That was why he had brought Hazel into the house and they thought her a fool who had not known what they were planning and scheming. Her fingers shook as she sparked the lighter into flame. He’d leave her the house, would he? She began to laugh again. By the time she had finished there would be no house left. She would show him that he could not leave her. That she would kill both of them if he tried.
Silver Shadows, Golden Dreams Page 30