by Lulu Taylor
To her surprise, a look of hurt passed over David’s face. ‘Why ever not?’ he demanded. ‘She’s very welcome to come. I like pretty women in here. She could bring lots of her friends, the ones she goes skiing with. I’ve noticed they all have very good legs.’
‘She’s down at those Chelsea places – you know, the kind with three dance floors, VIP areas, cocktails in goldfish bowls with a dozen straws, dry ice and dance music.’
David shuddered. ‘How grim. Why on earth does she like those places?’
Allegra didn’t know how to explain. Colette’s was beautiful, she could see that, but it wasn’t exactly hip and groovy. Most of the people she’d seen so far were in their forties and fifties, and the atmosphere, while expensive and luxurious, was sedate and calm. David had said the dance floor would be heaving later, but she hadn’t yet seen any signs of it. Still, in nightclub terms it was still early. ‘I suppose it’s just what young people like,’ she said at last.
‘Why wouldn’t young people like this?’ her uncle demanded, and waved his hand to indicate the dining room.
‘Perhaps it’s just a little too quiet for some,’ she said soothingly. ‘But I love it! I think it’s amazing.’
‘It’s not quiet,’ he said grumpily. ‘It’ll be simply throbbing later. You’ll see.’
Later, there were more people in the club, and a few younger ones at that, although Allegra was still struck by the lack of anyone like her own friends. The young people here looked just like the old ones in their dark suits and safe evening dresses. The DJ played the latest music, and a dozen figures bopped around the starlit floor, some more in control of their movements than others. Allegra was not tempted to join them. Instead, she enjoyed observing everything from the small bar where she and David sat and talked on. She told him all about what it had been like to be sent down, her desire to do something different, and her complete lack of ideas as to what that might be.
‘Do you want to do something serious?’ he asked. ‘Study law, or medicine, or go into banking?’
‘Not really.’ Allegra shook her head. ‘I know I’ve got talents, I’m just not sure what they are yet. And I don’t want to commit myself to anything that demands three years of study without knowing if it’s what I really want.’
‘Mmm.’ David sat back and stared at her. ‘Tell me what you think of Colette’s.’
She looked about. ‘I think it’s the most glamorous place I’ve ever been. I think it’s amazingly enduring – I can hear all the echoes of the good times that have been had here. It’s timeless and gorgeous.’
‘But …’ David raised an eyebrow. ‘I can hear what your undertone is. It’s not for you.’
‘On special occasions!’ she protested. ‘I can imagine having a wonderful birthday party here, or getting engaged, or something like that. But not for every night.’
‘I see. And Xander? Do you think he would come here?’
‘Oh … well …’ Allegra thought of Xander and James Barclay and Luca and all the other rich boys, with their drugs and their drinking and womanising. ‘Perhaps. But I don’t know if you would like having them very much.’
David seemed to think about this and then frowned. ‘You know what, Allegra, I have an idea. I think it’s rather brilliant myself. It’s this: you must come and work for me. You might wonder what on earth needs doing in a club that’s just a restaurant and bar, but you’d be surprised. It takes a lot of work and organisation to keep this going. And besides that, I’m considering a little bit of expansion. And I’m not stupid. I know this place will only survive if the fashionable young things want to come here. The original members are starting to fall off their perches. Plenty of people want to join, of course, that’s not the point. Too many of them are corporate types, only wanting to wine and dine clients in impressive surroundings. I need to keep the genuine spirit of Colette’s alive: the spirit of meeting friends, good times, love and laughter. And for that I need youth. I think you could help me to do that.’
Allegra stared at him, her mouth open.
‘Well?’ he prodded. ‘What do you think?’
She blinked at him. A whole new life had suddenly opened up in front of her, entirely unexpectedly. And yet, as soon as she imagined it, she knew that it was exactly what she wanted.
‘Oh my God! I think I’d like that. I think I’d like that very much.’
Chapter 34
Paris
Summer 2004
THE LAWYER WATCHED the proceedings with interest. Emotions were flying high in the Paris boardroom, despite the efforts of all parties concerned to remain composed and businesslike.
The young man – and he was still very young, despite the expensive suit he was wearing – was evidently furious. His jawline was set, showing clenched teeth, and his fists were balled so angrily that his knuckles gleamed white through his tanned skin. His brown eyes were hard as flint despite their soft shade. He leapt up and strode to the window, gazing down unseeingly on the rue du Faubourg St Honoré below.
‘I think you’ll find that this is a very reasonable request,’ said the man sitting at the head of the table in an oversized green leather chair, designed to mark him out as the key figure in the room.
‘Reasonable?’ The younger man turned round, his face contorted with fury. ‘I don’t believe it! I can’t believe I actually came here to listen to this shit. You have completely misunderstood me, sir.’
‘Perhaps I have,’ replied the other man smoothly. He ran a slender white hand over the polished mahogany of the boardroom table. The suited men around the table watched with silent deference, their Mont Blanc pens poised over their notepads, keeping track of proceedings.
I don’t think this enterprise can succeed, the lawyer thought. The young man is passionate, that is obvious. He is in love. Why would he listen to this? It’s madness.
‘You certainly have.’ The young man looked almost as puzzled as he was angry. ‘You must think I’m so dumb. Do you really think I’m going to keep quiet and do what you ask? Do you honestly believe you can buy me off?’
The older man shrugged, a sardonic smile on his face. ‘I simply wish us to find the easiest way out of this mess. You cannot blame me for beginning in the most straightforward way.’
‘I’m afraid we disagree fundamentally. You see a mess where I do not.’
‘From your point of view, I can easily see how this might be termed a success.’
‘Ah!’ The young man screwed up his face in frustration, obviously keeping his temper with difficulty and biting his tongue. Then he said, ‘There you go again. You totally misunderstand me but, OK, I too can see why. You’ve spent her entire life protecting your daughter, probably fearing that she’s the target of fortune hunters. Now it looks like your worst nightmare has come true. Some gigolo has come along, seduced her, convinced her he loves her and married her under your nose. He’s stolen your precious prize purely because he wants to get his greedy, grasping hands on your family’s money.’ He gazed at the other man imploringly. ‘But, sir, it’s not like that at all. I had no idea who your daughter was when I fell in love with her.’
Charles de Lisle snorted.
‘You’ve got to believe me. I married Romily for love, and no other reason.’
The older man’s lips tightened and his eyes glittered dangerously. ‘If that is the case,’ he said in a calm, cold voice, ‘then why did you run away together like a pair of criminals? If your love was true and your intentions honourable, why act as if you wanted to steal our daughter away from us? Why marry before we could arrange some reasonable safeguards? If your heart is as pure and untouched by any desire for money as you say, then why not sign a prenuptial agreement? My lawyers could easily have drawn up a piece of paper that would have allowed you to demonstrate your motives by renouncing all claims to my daughter’s substantial fortune. I note that this did not happen.’ De Lisle shrugged lightly. ‘And therefore I must draw my own conclusions.’
A good point
, observed the lawyer. This undermines the case for love somewhat.
‘Sir, I had no idea of the extent of Romily’s wealth.’ The young man came back to the table and leant on it, his eyes imploring.
‘You saw where she lived. Hardly the kind of place you’d find a poor girl.’
‘I’m an American, Mr de Lisle. All of Paris looks like it’s pretty fancy as far as I’m concerned. I don’t know where your rich people live or which are the exclusive districts. I only ever saw the outside of the place and, yeah, sure, I thought it looked like her folks were doing all right – but that didn’t mean I had any idea what Romily was truly worth. To be honest, we never discussed it.’ He seemed to be working hard to control himself but couldn’t disguise the note of frustration in his voice. ‘I never asked – because I wasn’t goddamned interested!’
‘Mmm.’ The older man eyed him sceptically. ‘And yet you ran away. You must admit that looks underhand? Deceiving, even. Guilty.’
‘It was entirely Romily’s idea. I didn’t care when or how we got married. She convinced me that we should elope because she said otherwise her parents would stand in our way and she simply couldn’t wait. I went along with it because I loved her, but it was all her idea.’
‘Of course it was.’ Monsieur de Lisle smiled thinly.
The funny thing is, I believe the young man, thought the lawyer. He seems genuine. Or he is a fantastic actor? That cannot be ruled out, I suppose.
‘You are a chef,’ Monsieur de Lisle said disdainfully. ‘You have nothing. How did you expect to support your new wife?’
‘I’m a chef right now,’ Mitch said, evidently working hard to hang on to his patience. ‘But I have big plans. I intend to open my own restaurant, here or in New York, and it will be a great success. The restaurant business is booming.’
‘I see.’ Monsieur de Lisle looked bored by the whole idea. ‘But now we come to the heart of the matter. Your true motives come to light. You will need to finance this fantasy of yours, will you not?’
Mitch gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. Then he said, ‘Yes, I’ll need to find backers, that’s true. It can’t be done without an initial investment.’
‘You did need to find backers. You will not now. Because you have very conveniently married one.’ Monsieur de Lisle’s voice had a triumphant ring.
And that is a good point, thought the lawyer, raising his eyebrows slightly and gazing over at the young man to see how he would defend himself against this accusation.
‘I have no idea if Romily has any interest in backing my venture or not. I haven’t mentioned it to her. And I don’t have any idea how much money she has, believe it or not.’
‘I don’t believe it!’ Charles de Lisle seemed to lose his temper then. He slammed his fist down on the table. ‘Come on, Mr Mitchell! Do you seriously expect me to believe that you don’t know what my daughter is worth? You could find out anywhere what her family owns, what she is due to inherit.’ He fixed the young man with a hard stare. ‘You know that she owns several de Lisle paintings, surely. Just one of those could fund your restaurant several times over. Do you really think I could be so naive as to believe you had no idea of any of this? Please, Mr Mitchell, do not insult my intelligence.’
‘It may surprise you, sir, but these thoughts never once crossed my mind. I’m in love. I’ve just got married. I’m enjoying this time in my life.’
Charles de Lisle gazed at Mitch’s suit. ‘And finding time for a little shopping, I see. Are you still working at the restaurant?’
‘No, sir, I’m on an extended honeymoon, and Romily and I are still deciding our future.’ Mitch paused and then said, ‘Sir, it would make us both so happy if you and her mother could find it in your hearts to give our marriage a chance. Family is important to both of us.’
At this, Charles de Lisle’s face burned with fury and he leapt to his feet. When he replied, his voice was trembling with rage. ‘You are not part of my family and you never will be, do you understand me?’
‘Very well.’ Mitch stood up straight and squared his shoulders. ‘If that’s the way you want it. I have to warn you, sir, you cannot use money as a threat against Romily and me. We don’t care if we have it or not.’
‘Ha! Easy to say, less easy to live by. Do you imagine Romily will be happy being poor with you in a garret somewhere?’
‘Yes, I do,’ Mitch retorted.
‘Then you’re a fool!’ spat Charles. ‘You know nothing. She has lived all her life in luxury, surrounded by high society. She has never wanted for anything. She has no conception of what it means to live without money. The reality would amaze and appal her.’
‘You said yourself, she owns valuable paintings. There is no need for her to go without if she doesn’t want to.’
‘Aha! Now we see. Now we see!’ Charles de Lisle looked pleased, despite his palpable rage. ‘You admit she has her own money? You’re prepared for her to sell her birthright to maintain you both?’
‘If that’s what Romily wants to do, I’d never stop her.’ Mitch spoke in a clipped manner as though still trying hard to remain reasonable while anger simmered within him.
‘Of course you wouldn’t.’
The young man added with a tone of finality, ‘But I intend to earn my own money.’
‘Very admirable,’ hissed Charles. ‘And very unlikely. You’d have to cook millions of meals just to buy Romily her winter wardrobe for one season.’
Mitch shrugged and smiled. ‘I love her, sir. I do appreciate the generous amount of money you’ve offered me to divorce your daughter’ – his voice held just a tinge of sarcasm now – ‘but I don’t intend to take you up on it. You won’t be able to change my mind.’
De Lisle sat down slowly, averting his gaze for a while as though defeated. Then he lifted his eyes and stared Mitch full in the face, his expression ambiguous. ‘If I cannot persuade you, perhaps my daughter can.’
‘What?’ Mitch frowned, a deep crease forming on his handsome brow.
‘Please, sit down.’
What on earth is coming next? wondered the lawyer. He’d been impressed by the chef’s tenacity and determination, and was privately convinced that he had married the girl for love and not money. Nonetheless, he could see it from the father’s point of view. The girl hasn’t a clue what she’s let herself in for. In a marriage of unequals like this, resentment comes creeping in before long. When the ecstasy has worn itself out, the recriminations begin.
Mitch stared at his father-in-law for a long moment and then sat down in a chair, muttering, ‘I’m not going to change my mind.’
Charles de Lisle made a gesture to one of his flunkies who came forward and placed a small machine on the table next to de Lisle’s place. ‘Thank you.’ He looked at Mitch. ‘The very latest in technology,’ he remarked. ‘So clever. A remarkably discreet but very sensitive digital voice recorder.’ He turned back to the assistant. ‘Turn it on, please.’
The flunky pressed a button and the room instantly filled with sound. It was the background noise of a café or restaurant: tinkling glasses, the gentle clatter of cutlery on china, and the hum of conversation. Then a female voice asked, ‘So what about this chef you’ve married?’
There was the sound of laughter and then Romily’s voice said, ‘It’s such fun, darling. Do you know, the best thing about it is the way my parents have hit the roof? They’ve gone ballistic! All very satisfactory.’
‘And do you love him?’
Romily’s voice was playful and light-hearted. ‘Huh, love! I don’t think so! It’s a game, isn’t it? The sex is amazing. He’ll make a very good first husband.’
‘How long will you stay with him?’
‘I don’t know. While it’s fun. No doubt we’ll buy him off when the time comes.’
Charles de Lisle leant forward and clicked off the button. Silence filled the room.
The lawyer glanced quickly at Mitch and felt sorry for the poor young man. What they had just heard on th
e tape had turned everything he’d said into a ludicrous farce, humiliation on a grand scale. What a tour de force, he thought admiringly. De Lisle lured him brilliantly all the way down the path and then – snap! The trap sprang shut.
Mitch sat, white-faced and perfectly still. He stared at the table, his hands held tightly together to prevent any possibility of their trembling. Then he stood up and returned to his spot by the window, staring out on to the street below until Charles de Lisle broke the silence.
‘Perhaps you would like a little time alone, to think over what you’ve heard?’ he suggested almost gently.
Mitch spun round, his expression unreadable but everything in his face looking tight and ill. ‘No need for that, sir. May I please borrow that thing?’
Charles shot a look at his assistant, who raised his eyebrows in return. ‘Yes,’ he said hesitantly. ‘But you must know that we have many copies of this recording. You can’t simply lose it or throw it into the Seine. Make it go away.’
‘I have no intention of doing that. And, you can rest assured, I’ll return your property within the day.’
‘Very well.’
The young man came over, snatched up the player and stared at it.
‘It’s very straightforward, like any tape player,’ said Charles helpfully. ‘Look, rewind, and play.’
Mitch slipped it in his pocket, his gaze distracted as though he was only half seeing the room. ‘I’ll be back later. You’ll have my answer then.’ Then he strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Charles de Lisle looked at his lawyers. ‘So,’ he said, satisfied. ‘That seemed to go very well. I think we have achieved our objective, gentlemen. I’d be very surprised if things do not go our way after this.’
A triumph, agreed the lawyer silently. And a surprise. I believed in that love story. Who would have thought the girl was a cynical little puss all along?
Mitch strode through the streets of Paris, not seeing anyone or anything as he wove his way through the tourists on the broad avenues, intent only on getting back to the tiny flat in the Marais that he now shared with Romily. As he walked he heard those few lightly spoken sentences over and over again in his mind: