‘I can well imagine. You must miss him,’ Katie murmured sympathetically, knowing how much she would have missed her own father if he had died.
‘Oh yes, I do miss him. A lot,’ Xenia replied. ‘He was a wonderful father, if a little crazy at times. He was very colourful, you know, Katie, and you’d have loved him. He was so handsome, a Russian émigré, taken out of Russia as a child, just before the Revolution, brought up in Paris and Nice by his mother, living in Hollywood eventually. And horribly addicted to London, Savile Row suits, gambling, and making movies. And to me, of course. He was very adoring of me.’
‘He sounds like quite a character.’
Xenia merely smiled, sipped her tea, remembering with great love and much sadness her beloved father, Victor Alexandrovich Fedorov, who had died when she was twenty-two.
They sat quietly together, drinking their tea in silence for a few moments. There had been an instant rapport between them when they were introduced by Katie’s Aunt Bridget in New York; for the last two years they had been fast friends and room-mates in London for a year. Although they were from totally different backgrounds, they nevertheless understood each other very well. The silences between them were companionable; and they enjoyed being together.
‘I know you grew up with Tim, but were you in love with him then? When you were a child?’ Katie asked, breaking into Xenia’s thoughts.
Xenia nodded. ‘Oh yes, I was. I loved Tim forever.’
Katie noticed the sad, faraway look in Xenia’s large, transparent eyes and, realizing they were on delicate ground, she changed the subject by saying, ‘Guess what? Melanie introduced me to Christopher Plummer tonight. He was having dinner at the Ivy, and came over to say hello to her.’
‘He’s a remarkable actor,’ Xenia answered. An elegant dark brow lifted, when she asked, ‘Is he going to be in one of her plays?’
‘I don’t know, I don’t think so.’ Katie paused and there was a short silence before she cleared her throat, and went on, ‘Actually, Melanie offered me a part tonight.’
‘She did? What kind of part?’
‘The second lead in Charlotte and Her Sisters. The part of Emily Brontë.’
‘That’s absolutely wonderful, Katie. Congratulations!’
‘Don’t say that yet. I don’t know if I’m going to take it.’
‘You don’t. Whyever not? You should jump at it.’ Xenia threw her a puzzled look, frowning and shaking her head. ‘Why would you even hesitate?’
‘I’m just not sure I can do it. Emily was English, I’m American and –’ Katie cut herself off, looking troubled.
‘Don’t be so ridiculous,’ Xenia chastised sharply. ‘Of course you can do it! You’re a talented and gifted actress, and a hard worker. This part’s a snap for you, believe me.’
‘Thank you. But I feel very uncertain about playing this part. I told Melanie I’d like to sleep on it, and give her an answer tomorrow.’
‘I hope that’s going to be in the affirmative,’ Xenia swiftly responded. ‘You’ve got to accept it. Listen, you’re not actually signing the contract tomorrow. You can always get out of it later, if you feel you must. Just say yes for now.’
‘I couldn’t do that, it’s not fair to Melanie.’
Xenia rose, began to walk up and down the kitchen, those beautiful grey eyes of hers growing thoughtful.
Finally, she came to a stop, put a hand on Katie’s shoulder. ‘This is what we’re going to do. You’ll give Melanie Dawson a ring in the morning, and tell her you’re accepting the part. Then I’ll take you up to Yorkshire tomorrow. For a few days. We’ll get the morning Pullman train from King’s Cross to Harrogate. And we’ll stay with Verity at Burton Leyburn.
‘On Friday or Saturday, I’ll drive you over to Haworth. You can commune with the ghost of Emily Brontë on those wild, untenanted moors she loved so much and where she spent so much time with her dog, Keeper. We’ll visit the Black Bull where Branwell always got horrendously drunk, and stroll around the village streets. We’ll even walk over the moors to Top Withens. It’s a long trek but worth it. It’s a ruin now, but it’s supposedly the house Wuthering Heights was modelled on. We can also spend an hour or so in the parsonage. That’s now the Brontë Museum, and they have many of the Brontë manuscripts on display, including some of the Juvenilia, the stories of Gondal and Angria which they wrote when they were children. All very Byronic and melodramatic, and forerunners of their adult novels.’ Xenia stared at Katie. ‘So don’t you think that sounds great?’
‘Yes…’ Again, Katie seemed hesitant.
‘Listen to me, Katie Byrne. Once you’ve visited where they lived, seen the bleakness of the moors, the stormfilled skies, you’ll understand the Brontës much better, especially Emily. That place is so windswept and harsh it had to have had an influence on them, on their characters, and ultimately on their writing. Also, there are a lot of books on the Brontës in the library at Burton Leyburn, plenty of reading matter for you. So say you’ll come.’
Katie was silent.
‘Oh come on, say yes,’ Xenia cried, growing impatient.
Katie was touched by Xenia’s invitation to Yorkshire and she looked across at her, and finally nodded. ‘It’s really lovely of you to offer to do this for me. But what about your work? I thought you had to put together a big party for the Millennium, and were having problems?’
‘And how,’ Xenia replied. ‘We had no venue for that party, and couldn’t find anywhere that was suitable, or available on New Year’s Eve. Alan and I were beginning to panic, and then today a New York couple who were giving a wedding anniversary party unexpectedly cancelled it. They’re getting a divorce! We were having it at the Plaza Hotel ballroom, and so, voilà! Now we have an empty ballroom for our other client. Problem solved. What was worrying Alan a while ago was the theme for the Millennium bash. The Plaza ballroom is such a big room for a private party, but I believe I’ve come up with a theme he likes.’
‘What is it?’
‘I suggested turning the ballroom into a replica of the Winter Palace in St Petersburg. He wasn’t sure about it at first, but then the client just flipped when she heard what I had in mind. I’ll call him tomorrow and tell him I’ll be in Yorkshire, in case he needs me. The great thing is that I can work on the party theme at Burton Leyburn; that house is bound to inspire me. When you see it, you’ll understand what I mean.’
Katie suddenly realized how important it was to Xenia that they go to Yorkshire where she had spent so much of her childhood. It was obvious from the sudden flush on her normally pale cheeks, the sparkle in those unusual eyes that it had a special hold on her.
‘All right,’ Katie said. ‘I’ll come to Yorkshire with you, Xenia.’
‘And you’ll accept the part of Emily?’
Katie took a deep breath. ‘Okay. I’ll call Melanie and tell her I want to do it, that I’m going to Yorkshire to research the Brontës…I can always cancel when we get back to London.’
Over my dead body, Xenia thought, but she remained silent.
Chapter Sixteen
They spoke only sporadically on the first part of their train journey to Yorkshire the following day. Xenia was busy with office memos, and Katie was immersed in the homework she had to complete for one of her acting classes at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art.
They ordered lunch about an hour after the train had pulled out of King’s Cross, and when it was served some time later they finally looked up and smiled at each other over their first course.
‘Time flies when you’re doing something you enjoy, doesn’t it?’ Katie murmured with a light laugh.
Although Xenia at first laughed with her, her face quickly changed along with her tone, when she grumbled, ‘I loathe paperwork. Unfortunately, with Bella out sick, I have to do her job as well as mine. On the other hand, I shouldn’t be complaining, since we’re doing so well. Just imagine, when I met you in New York two years ago, I had been in partnership with Alan for only a year. We’ve been
really lucky to become what we have in three short years.’
‘But the special events and parties you plan are exactly that, Xenia. Special, very special. Certainly they’re unique, and you and Alan have a lot of flair between the two of you. So I’m not surprised the company’s been a success.’
‘Thanks, Katie, it’s nice of you to say that.’ Picking up a spoon, Xenia took a few mouthfuls of the oxtail soup she had ordered, then broke off a bit of roll and added a dab of butter.
Katie watched her, wondering how she managed to stay so slender. Xenia was thirty-four, seven years older than Katie, but she didn’t look it. She had an extremely youthful, girlish appearance even though her manner was somewhat sophisticated, and international, in certain ways. She spoke four languages, Russian, English, French and Italian, and was extremely well educated, and knowledgeable about art and literature. And, of course, the movies, having grown up with a father who produced them.
Katie marvelled at her ability to stay slim despite a very healthy appetite. She managed to resemble a model from Paris, was bone-thin, with a boyish figure and long legs. Willowy was the word Katie usually applied to Xenia. Her thick chestnut hair, falling to her shoulders, and her wide-set, transparent grey eyes were her most striking features. Her rather pale heart-shaped face was finely boned, and she had high cheekbones that to Katie seemed to have a Slavic slant.
Or perhaps that’s just my imagination, Katie now thought, eyeing Xenia surreptitiously as she plunged a fork into a piece of tomato and ate it.
Katie had frequently wondered about Xenia and her past, for it was obvious that parts of it were shrouded in mystery. Katie had only ever asked her one personal question – about her mother – and had been instantly rebuffed.
Ever since that time she had left it to Xenia to choose when to confide in her. And often she did. All of a sudden Katie felt an unexpected stab of guilt; who was she to mentally criticize Xenia? She had never been particularly forthcoming about her own life, and she supposed she might appear a bit mysterious and secretive to Xenia.
‘I spoke to Verity. Early this morning,’ Xenia suddenly announced, looking directly at Katie. ‘She goes riding every day, usually at the crack of dawn, so I had to catch her before she went galloping off across those endless fields, jumping hedges and putting herself and her horse to the test. Anyway, she’s glad we’re coming, and she’s sending Lavinia to pick us up at the station in Harrogate.’
‘Who’s Lavinia?’ Katie asked curiously.
‘The daughter of Verity’s cook, Anya. She was born in the village and grew up at Burton Leyburn. Now she does a bit of secretarial work for Verity. And sometimes other little jobs, like collecting guests from trains, that sort of thing. But she’s actually an artist by profession, and a good one, too.’
Katie nodded, picked up her glass of water, and sat back as the waiter removed her salad plate. When they were alone, she said, ‘By the way, I took your advice, Xenia, and called Melanie Dawson. She was thrilled when I accepted the role of Emily Brontë. But I’m going to feel terrible if I don’t take the part.’
‘I’m not going to listen to such talk as that, my friend. So just shut up.’ The moment these words left her mouth Xenia was embarrassed and looked chagrined. Shaking her head, she said, ‘My Russian grandmother would turn over in her grave if she heard me speaking to you like that, Katie. I didn’t mean to be so rude. I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s okay, and you weren’t rude, Xenia.’ Katie paused, and then asked, ‘Did you spend a lot of time with your Russian grandmother?’ She hoped Xenia would not snap her head off as she sometimes had in the past. Questions about Tim and her family in particular were apparently forbidden, and rendered her speechless.
‘When I was little, yes,’ Xenia responded in a level voice, and continued, ‘My father used to take me to Paris and Nice to see her. She was quite remarkable, and very beautiful…well, I could see how beautiful she’d been as a young woman. She was still rather striking, quite an imposing old lady in very many ways. A grande dame is the best way to describe her, I think. Grandmother died in Nice when I was seventeen, a few months after I’d left Lady Eden’s school in London…’ Xenia grinned at her, and added, ‘And oh boy, what a stickler she was about manners. Worse than my grandmother, if that’s at all possible.’
The waiter returned with their omelettes and green salads, and their conversation became desultory once again as they ate their lunch. When they had finished the main course, they both skipped dessert, settled for black coffee, no sugar, and then went back to their papers.
Katie finished her homework quickly, but Xenia was engrossed in her office papers and did not lift her head for some time. Settling herself in the corner of her seat, Katie sat gazing out of the window, watching the countryside flying past as the express train rolled on towards Yorkshire.
At one moment she leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, drifting with her myriad thoughts. She found herself wondering about this house where they were going to stay, which apparently meant so much to Xenia. Katie had no idea what to expect, although she did have the impression that it was large. When Xenia talked about it she usually did so in terms of people – Pell, Verity’s gardener who had, not green thumbs, but magical green fingers. And there was Dodie, the housekeeper, who believed she had psychic powers, and Pomeroy, the ancient bootboy, who wasn’t actually the bootboy any more, because there weren’t that many boots to clean. And just a short while ago Xenia had mentioned Anya, the cook, and her daughter Lavinia, born in the village, living at the house, a secretary to Verity but really a painter. Seemingly, Verity lived alone, except for this odd assortment of helpers, and her longstanding boyfriend, Rex Bellamy, known to everyone as Boy, who sometimes stayed with her. Curious mixture, Katie thought, just before she dozed off, lulled to sleep by the rhythm of the train and the warmth in the carriage.
The train screeching to a halt and sudden activity in the dining car made Katie sit up with a sudden jolt. Blinking, she glanced across at Xenia. ‘Are we there?’ she asked. ‘Is this Harrogate?’
‘No, Leeds. Big industrial city. Used to be the centre of ready-made clothing until they started making cheap suits in Hong Kong, or whatever. Still, it’s thriving again. Leeds, I mean. Financial centre of the north, and a very big student town. Leeds University has become one of the most coveted places to study.’
Katie nodded. ‘Yes, I’ve read quite a lot about that.’
‘Yes, it’s happening here.’ Snapping her briefcase shut, Xenia put it on the seat next to her, glanced around the carriage and then leaned forward over the table. Looking intently at her friend, Xenia said, ‘There’s something I want to tell you. Actually, in a sense I want to apologize to you, Katie, for not telling you the truth. Well, look, I didn’t really lie to you, I simply omitted to tell you something, and Verity always says that that’s a form of lying.’
Katie stared back at Xenia. ‘I’m not sure if I agree with Verity, but tell me.’ When Xenia didn’t say anything, Katie said again, ‘Tell me what it is.’
Xenia still remained silent, but her eyes did not leave Katie’s face.
Feeling slightly uncomfortable under this sudden and peculiar fixed scrutiny, Katie murmured, ‘You can tell me anything, I’d never be upset. Why do you look so worried? It can’t be all that bad. Or is it?’
Swallowing, Xenia replied quietly, ‘I’m not divorced from Tim.’
‘Oh.’ Katie sat back, astounded.
‘I let you think that, Katie. Actually, you assumed I was divorced when I told you I used to be married,’ Xenia rushed on. ‘Of course, I allowed you to make that assumption because it was easier for me. For you to think I was a divorced woman saved me from having to say anything else. And I didn’t –’
‘You mean you’re still married to Tim, is that what you’re saying?’
‘Oh no. No, not that at all. I don’t mean that…’ Taking a deep breath after this slight pause, she finished, ‘Tim is dead
. He was killed in a ghastly accident. But I never tell anyone this, because then the sympathy starts, and the condolences, and I get terribly sorrowful again, and weepy, and nothing gets done because I fall totally apart. But I wanted you to know now, because at Burton Leyburn everything is out in the open, obviously. And within hours, no, perhaps even minutes, you’d know Tim was…no longer alive, and then where would I be?’
Katie reached out, put her hand over both of Xenia’s, clasped together on top of the table. ‘I’m so sorry…it must’ve been heartbreaking for you. And you’re not to say another word. When and if you feel like talking about it, I’m here for you. You’re my friend, and I care about you, so if you want to unburden yourself feel free to do so.’
‘You’re very kind, Katie.’ Xenia took hold of Katie’s hand and squeezed it. ‘You probably think I’ve been secretive.’
‘Oh no, not at all,’ Katie answered softly, knowing that she was the secretive one because she had not told Xenia anything about her past.
Chapter Seventeen
The young woman who met them at Harrogate railway station was so stunning, so arresting in appearance, Katie did a double take as she hurried towards them down the platform. She was about five feet seven in height, very slender and delicately boned, with dark hair cut short and sleek.
There was a gamine quality about her, and she seemed vaguely familiar to Katie, although they had never met before. Lavinia was dressed in black wool capri trousers, ballet slippers and a turtle neck, this all-black ensemble enlivened by a short swing jacket of bright red wool.
After Lavinia and Xenia had embraced affectionately, Xenia brought Katie forward and introduced the two young women. They shook hands, said a cordial hello, and as Katie stared into the pretty woman’s smiling face she immediately understood why Lavinia appeared to be so familiar. She was a dead ringer for a young Audrey Hepburn, had the same large, expressive dark eyes, heavy, though shapely brows, and a soft fringe falling onto her forehead.
The Triumph of Katie Byrne Page 11