Lisa studied her friend. ‘You’re going to miss Guy Ravenel, aren’t you?’
‘Very much.’
‘Got to you, didn’t he?’
‘It’s not that. It’s just … oh, I don’t know. He’s such a fantastic man. I know I’ll never meet anyone like him again.’
‘He’s certainly something,’ Lisa said. ‘Breaking into the bank like that. It took some nerve. But what about you? Calmly dining with Paul Eberhardt while he did it.’
‘I wasn’t so calm,’ Julia said. ‘I was petrified.’
‘Now he’s dead. So is Grace Brand.’
‘No tears this side of the table.’
‘There was a story in the Herald Tribune. The French police have no clues.’
‘Guy thinks there was a mistake. He thinks Eberhardt set up the hit and happened to get in the way.’
‘You’re lucky you got your money before he was knocked off.’
‘I know it.’
‘All Guy’s doing.’
She nodded.
‘Did he tell you he has a daughter?’ Lisa asked.
‘He showed me her picture.’
‘I met her in New York last year. She’s about the same age as Deena. Adorable.’
‘I hope I meet her one day.’
‘What’s keeping you?’ Lisa asked. ‘You could go tomorrow.’
‘I could,’ Julia said. ‘But I won’t. Guy Ravenel may be the most exciting man I’ve ever met but I don’t want to spend my nights worrying which bank he’s breaking into.’
‘He doesn’t have to do that any more,’ Lisa said with a chuckle. ‘He’s worth at least $2 million.’
‘That won’t change him,’ Julia said. ‘He’s a risk taker. Always will be.’
‘You may be right. And what about that woman – the one who went into the bank with him?’
‘Marie. Marie Corbat.’
‘She sounds like my kind of woman,’ Lisa said.
‘Guy flew back to see her before he went home,’ Julia said. ‘Took her a cheque. Albert-Jean Cristiani got one too. My way of saying thanks.’
Lisa smiled then. ‘I like that, Julia Lang.’
She was home by 2.30 p.m. As she walked into the flat the phone was ringing.
It was Emma. ‘I’ve been calling and calling,’ she said. ‘There was no answer …’
Damn, Julia thought. I forgot about the machine.
‘I thought you’d be interested in the news. The Mail and the Express are running your stories tomorrow. Tony Vickers and Arthur Brandon called to tell me.’
Julia felt a strong sense of satisfaction. The stories, she knew, would give a lift to those still at the hotel.
‘I wonder what Moscato’s reaction will be,’ she said.
‘We’ll never know, will we?’ She could hear the suppressed excitement in Emma’s voice. ‘He’s gone.’
‘What do you mean, gone?’
‘The Sultan fired him. Ricci too. He flew in yesterday. They were out by mid-afternoon.’
Julia felt suddenly weary. She sat down on the edge of the bed and kicked off her shoes.
‘Wait till you hear the best news,’ Emma went on. ‘Tim Perrin takes over next month.’
Julia felt a surge of happiness. ‘Tim? Really? That’s wonderful …’
‘There’s more. The Sultan’s secretary called this morning. He wants to know if you can come to tea this afternoon?’
‘What for?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
Julia glanced out of the window at the darkening sky. Rain was threatening. She swung her legs onto the bed and leaned back against the headboard.
‘No,’ she said.
‘You’re busy?’
‘I’m just not coming, Emma.’
‘Please.’
‘Whose side are you on?’
‘Yours, of course.’
‘I’ve resigned, Emma.’
‘Because of Moscato. But he’s gone now.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘It wouldn’t hurt just to come to tea.’
Julia sighed. ‘All right, Emma. To please you I’ll come. But don’t read anything into it.’
‘I made a mistake, Julia. You were right and I was wrong.’ The Sultan of Malacca sat forward on the sofa of his suite, looking earnestly at Julia. ‘I was so determined to save my hotel I chose badly.’
‘He almost ruined the Burlington.’
‘I know that. But now I’ve chosen well. Tim Perrin.’
‘The best.’
‘He’s arriving here next month,’ the Sultan said. ‘I told him I would make every effort to get you to return to the hotel. He thinks so highly of you.’
I have money in the bank, Julia thought. In six months’ time I’m having Robert’s baby. I don’t have to listen to this.
‘Well, Julia?’
‘It’s not possible,’ she said. ‘I’m having a baby.’
The Sultan chuckled. ‘I had noticed … well, that you had put on weight. Congratulations. That’s wonderful news.’
‘So you see …’
He leaned back. ‘You can take off all the time you want. Have your baby. Come back when you’re ready.’
‘The same job?’
‘Tim Perrin wants you as his number two.’ He clasped his hands together. ‘Will you at least consider it, Julia?’
She looked at his bald head and dark, flashing eyes. Only a few weeks ago, she reflected, he was sitting right there telling me to get along with Moscato or get out. Now, because Tim Perrin wants me, he’s pleading.
‘There are terms,’ she began.
‘I understand.’
‘Pam Helmore and Bryan Penrose will have to be reinstated.’
‘That’s already done. Tim Perrin insisted on it.’
‘You give us two years to prove ourselves. With no interference.’
He considered this for a long moment. Finally he nodded. ‘Agreed.’
Surprised at the rush of confidence she felt, Julia could think of nothing more to say. She rose quickly. ‘I’ll give you my decision at the end of the week.’
‘I’ll be waiting,’ he said.
On her way back to the executive corridor people stopped to greet her with hugs and handshakes. Suddenly the Burlington seemed to be alive again with smiles everywhere. Had she been kidding herself in supposing she could walk away from this place which had been home for so long?
When she went into her old office Emma jumped up. ‘Well?’
‘He wants me back as Tim’s number two.’
Emma danced around her. ‘That’s terrific. Do I come with you?’
‘Of course. If I say yes.’
‘You must say yes. You know the hotel business back to front. You’ll be wonderful. And you mustn’t worry. I’ll look after things while you’re off having your baby.’
Julia stared at her. ‘Dammit, Emma, are there no secrets around here?’
Emma smiled. ‘Even a barren old frump like me can tell when a woman is pregnant.’ She put her hand on Julia’s arm. ‘Can I be godmother?’
‘Only if you promise not to fuss.’
Julia slumped down in her old chair. Emma moved round to adjust a cushion behind her back. ‘Does this mean welcome back?’ she asked.
Julia smiled. ‘Yes, Emma, I guess it means welcome back.’
Postscript
Letter from Lazarus, Ridley and Lenz of Madison Avenue, New York City
Dear Miss Lang,
The day before he died my friend and client Robert Brand wrote me a confidential letter expressing his delight at the prospect of becoming a father again and stating that he wished your child to be accepted as his sole heir and beneficiary.
While his wife, Grace, was still alive this posed numerous legal problems which I need not go into now, but with her recent demise there is no reason why Robert’s last wish should not be granted.
The child of your union therefore becomes the sole heir to the assets of the Brand Corporation with you as guardian until he or
she becomes of age.
In order to complete the necesssary legal documents perhaps we can arrange a meeting at a time and place suitable to yourself. I am available to come to London should you not wish to make the journey to New York.
Cordially,
Elliot Lenz
From the Daily Telegraph
The Burlington Hotel, one of London’s best-known landmarks, was bought yesterday by a consortium headed by billionaire American industrialist Robert Brand Jnr, 27.
The Burlington, owned by the Sultan of Malacca until his death, and most recently a member of the Palace Group, has long been a favourite hotel of international travellers. The Primrose Ball, one of the social events of the London season, is held there.
‘My mother was with the Burlington for many years,’ Mr Brand said yesterday. ‘So my family has a long association with the hotel. I am happy to continue it.’
Brand’s mother, Mrs Guy Ravenel, the former Julia Lang, who now lives in the Bahamas, is expected in London next month to see her horse, the Derby favourite Shalimar, run. She was for many years the Burlington’s Director of Publicity.
About the Author
RODERICK MANN has extensive ties to the entertainment industry, having been a screenwriter and celebrity TV interviewer. He is also a former Sunday Express and Los Angeles Times columnist, and author of three previous novels. He lives in Los Angeles, California.
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