Eagles

by Lewis Orde

  ‘Does it? Or are they scared that all children’s nurses end up looking like Queenie Blackwood?’

  ‘Heaven forbid! Do you think I could ever look like that shrew?’

  ‘I doubt it.’ Roland recalled the comparison he’d once made – Janet’s warm and loving manner against the strict, no-nonsense approach of the Menendez nurse. That warmth was even more apparent now. The intervening years had softened Janet’s face, filled her eyes with patience and understanding.

  ‘You haven’t answered my question,’ Janet reminded him.

  ‘We’ll go out. And you’ll be my guest. Would you mind a foursome?’ He indicated Sally and Christopher Mellish.

  ‘Are you afraid to be alone with me?’

  ‘No.’ Roland wasn’t sure whether he was telling the truth. ‘I just feel like a celebration on a larger scale.’

  *

  Roland took Janet, Sally and Christopher Mellish to Eldridge’s in Knightsbridge. The restaurant was almost strange territory to Roland now; he hadn’t been there more than half a dozen times in the past seven years, and as he followed the maître d’ to the reserved table he couldn’t help thinking of the times he’d spent there with Catarina. Maybe that was why he’d avoided it . . . But that was all in the past now. Katherine’s birthday party had convinced him that he could enjoy life again. Catarina would always remain with him, her memory tantalizing his mind, forcing him to compare every other woman with her; but he had to, in a sense, release her memory and go on.

  ‘Here’s to the new Roland Eagles,’ Sally made the toast, lifting a wineglass into the air as they finished dinner.

  Roland felt his cheeks burn. ‘Does it show?’

  ‘The only thing the same about you is your face,’ Christopher said. ‘Your personality seems to have undergone a complete transformation.’

  Janet, seated on Roland’s right, squeezed his arm. ‘You look like a man who’s suddenly remembered how to live. What’s come over you?’

  Roland recounted his feelings at Sharon’s wedding, how he had noticed Katherine’s enjoyment from being with other people, basking in their attention. ‘I was so frightened of something terrible happening that I smothered her. Her life would have been a misery if I’d carried on like that.’

  ‘You were right, by the way,’ Sally said. ‘Alf did take her for pony rides at the zoo.’

  ‘I know. I saw the way she handled Buttercup. That was no novice sitting in the saddle.’

  ‘Are you angry at Alf?’

  ‘Of course not. I’m grateful to him. What Alf did was probably the closest thing to normality the poor kid ever had.’ He looked around the restaurant, noting how different it now seemed. ‘I can’t believe how seldom I’ve been here in the past few years. This used to be my favorite restaurant.’

  ‘With Catarina?’ Sally offered, guessing down which avenue Roland’s memory was wandering.

  ‘And even afterwards, for a while.’ He picked up his wineglass and studied the pattern. ‘Catarina once asked me if I owned a restaurant, on our first date in the back of Alf’s cab. I picked up a hamper from here for a romantic picnic lunch.’ He put down the wineglass and summoned the waiter. ‘Is the owner of the restaurant available? I would like to speak with him, please.’

  ‘Is there anything wrong, sir?’

  ‘Everything is fine. Now may I please see the owner?’

  Less than a minute later the owner of Eldridge’s was standing beside Roland’s chair, a man in his sixties who rubbed his hands nervously as if expecting a complaint. Instead, Roland simply told him, ‘I would like to buy this restaurant. How much do you want for it?’ He smiled at the surprised expression on the man’s face, then realized it mirrored the astonishment of his own companions.

  ‘The wine is very good, eh, sir?’ the owner replied indulgently.

  ‘The wine is excellent. I haven’t drunk enough of it, however, to dull my senses. I would like to buy this restaurant.’

  ‘Roland . . .’ Sally hissed at him. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘Remembering Catarina, for one thing. Also, I used to spend a lot of money in this place. I’ve just made up my mind to start doing so again, so wouldn’t it make sense if I owned it?’ He looked optimistically at Christopher; the racing man was enough of a madcap to appreciate the gesture.

  ‘It makes a lot of sense to me, old sport. I’ll always have somewhere to eat for nothing when my luck’s out.’

  ‘Hadn’t you better consult your partner first?’ Sally suggested. ‘You do have one, and he might not be as willing to diversify as you apparently are. He also happens to be my employer, and he won’t look kindly on me if I let you give away his money.’

  ‘I’ll call him now.’

  ‘It’s past eleven o’clock!’

  ‘He’ll speak to me,’ Roland said confidently before turning back to the owner. ‘Are you interested in selling? I’m very serious.’

  The older man’s eyes twinkled as he finally recognized how sincere Roland was. ‘If the price were right, I would consider it.’

  ‘Good.’ Roland walked quickly to a telephone and dialed Simon’s number. Nadine answered, told Roland that Simon was in bed and asked if it could wait until morning. Roland said no; he had urgent business to discuss.

  ‘What is it, Roland?’ Simon said sleepily; he still remembered the time Roland had burst into his office to ask about eloping. Nothing his young partner did would surprise him anymore.

  ‘I’m at Eldridge’s in Knightsbridge.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘I want us to buy this restaurant.’

  Simon could think of nothing better to say than, ‘Do we need a restaurant?’

  ‘I believe so. Why pay out money on business lunches when we can keep it in the family? Look, can we meet at your office at four o’clock tomorrow afternoon?’

  ‘Are you serious, Roland?’

  ‘Of course I am. I’ve got the owner here. He’s perfectly willing to sell if we can agree on a price.’

  ‘Four o’clock tomorrow afternoon.’ Simon replaced the receiver and wondered what a restaurant had in common with electrical appliances.

  Roland returned to his table, not at all surprised to find that two waiters were now on hand.

  ‘Well?’ Sally asked. ‘Did Simon dissolve the partnership?’

  ‘Not at all. We’re on our way to becoming restaurateurs. How about that?’ He leaned back in his chair and smiled broadly; he hadn’t felt this good, this vital in years.

  ‘News like that calls for a celebration,’ Mellish said.

  Roland turned toward one of the waiters but Mellish cut him off. ‘I wasn’t thinking about a drink. I’ve got a horse running at Goodwood this coming Saturday. Why don’t the four of us go down there to watch the race, and if we win we’ll spend Saturday night in Monte Carlo!’

  ‘And if we don’t win?’

  ‘We have to!’ Mellish looked horrified at the thought.

  ‘But if we don’t, we’ll still spend Saturday night in Monte Carlo; then we’ll really deserve a night out.’

  ‘I’m game,’ Sally agreed.

  ‘All right with you?’ Roland asked Janet.

  The offer of a trip to Monte Carlo was as unexpected as the previous day’s invitation to dinner, and Janet was just as quick to accept. ‘I’m between assignments right now. Monte Carlo sounds terrific.’

  Just before midnight, Sally left the restaurant with Mellish. Roland had little doubt that they would be spending the night together at Mellish’s apartment on Curzon street. Again, he questioned his feelings about their relationship. Maybe he was concerning himself too much with Sally’s affair. She could look after herself. Besides, didn’t opposites attract – Sally’s common-sense approach to life against Mellish’s somewhat rash love of its pleasures? Roland decided he was worrying over nothing.

  ‘Are you going to see me home,’ Janet asked, ‘before they close up your restaurant around our ears?’

 
‘Sure.’

  Janet lived in a two-bedroom mews house in Chelsea which she had bought with money left to her by her father. They took a taxi from the restaurant, and Roland told the driver to wait while he saw her to the door.

  ‘Coming in?’ she asked.

  ‘I should get back.’

  ‘Why? Katherine’s asleep and the fearless Mrs Partridge is standing guard. What’s your hurry?’

  ‘I don’t have one.’

  ‘Then come in.’

  ‘Five minutes!’ Roland called out to the taxi driver, then followed Janet into the house.

  ‘Thank you for a lovely dinner,’ Janet said as she led Roland into the living room, ‘although I feel I’ve taken advantage of you.’

  ‘How’s that?’

  ‘You won the bet – I was supposed to take you to dinner.’

  Roland feigned offense. ‘Would I let you pay for a meal in my restaurant?’ He walked across to a table and picked up a photograph of a man in Royal Navy uniform. ‘Your father?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What would he have said about his Roedean-educated daughter becoming a children’s nurse?’

  ‘He would have said that if that was what I wanted to do, it was fine with him. He was a wonderful man.’

  ‘How long has he been gone?’

  ‘Thirteen years, and I still miss him terribly.’

  ‘Where did he die?’

  ‘His destroyer went down on escort duty in the North Atlantic. Torpedo.’

  Roland replaced the photograph and sat down on a couch. ‘My family’s been gone seventeen years . . . I miss them as well. They died in an air raid.’

  ‘I guess we all love the Germans, don’t we?’

  ‘I met a decent one once, fellow named Kassler. An SS captain at Bergen-Belsen who doubled as a kind of Scarlet Pimpernel.’

  ‘You were lucky then,’ Janet said quickly, eager to change the subject; talk of the war was too painful. ‘Want a drink? Cup of coffee?’

  ‘Nothing, thanks.’

  She ran the tip of her tongue across her lips. ‘Want to make love instead?’

  The directness of the question stunned Roland. ‘Is that what you ask every man who takes you to dinner?’

  ‘Not at all. It’s just something I’ve given great thought to ever since I met you. I lived in your house for two years and every night I waited for a knock at my bedroom door.’

  ‘I’m sorry if I disappointed you.’

  ‘Didn’t the idea ever cross your mind?’

  ‘Well . . .’ Roland felt embarrassed by both her forwardness and his own increasing awkwardness. ‘But what would Mrs Partridge have said?’

  ‘Nothing probably. She’s a very loyal lady who thinks the world of you and Katherine. She’s also a bit deaf. I don’t think Elsie Partridge was the problem, though.’ She sat down next to Roland and he felt enveloped by a sudden warmth. ‘You were the problem. Was Catarina the last woman you ever made love to?’

  Roland nodded, unashamed to admit it.

  ‘And since she died you’ve used your business as a substitute, is that it?’ She gazed deeply into his eyes, as if expecting to find the answer there. ‘Roland, you’re not the kind of man to throw yourself away on a business. No matter how successful you are you’ll never be satisfied with just that.’

  ‘It’s taken me a long time to realize it.’ He was aware of her arms sliding around his neck. He’d never been seduced before and wondered whether he would like it. Even more important, would he be able to handle it?

  ‘What kind of person do you think I am?’ he said, trying to slow things down.

  ‘You’re a wonderful if sometimes misguided father. And I don’t think you’ll be happy until you have many more children to make up for the families you’ve lost.’

  ‘Are you trying to ensure yourself of more nursing work in the future? Is that how Roedean teaches business classes?’ Her hand was tugging at his tie now, and he was only slightly conscious of his own hands gently caressing the back of her neck. Suddenly there was a loud, rapid knocking on the front door. ‘The cab . . .!’ Roland suddenly remembered. The knocking came again and he fumbled in his pocket for money, falling over his own feet as he stood up and raced toward the door.

  ‘Hurry back!’ Janet called after him.

  Roland shoved a five-pound note in the cab driver’s hand and closed the door without waiting for the four pounds change. Then he ran back to the living room.

  *

  Early on Saturday evening Roland, Janet, Christopher and Sally were flying to Nice in the south of France. Mellish’s horse had lost, finishing a poor eighth in a field of ten, and he swore that he would strangle both the jockey and the trainer; but that disappointment failed to dampen the group’s spirits.

  Roland, especially, was jubilant. The week had marked a distinct turning point in his life: Katherine’s birthday party, the beginning of his first relationship with a woman since Catarina, and the agreement the previous day between himself, Simon and the owner of Eldridge’s for the sale of the restaurant.

  ‘How much did you lose?’ Roland asked Mellish when they arrived in Nice and boarded the train for the short trip to Monte Carlo.

  ‘A thousand. How about yourself?’

  ‘Couple of hundred.’

  ‘Better raise the prices in your new restaurant, old sport. Recoup your losses that way.’

  ‘Today wasn’t a loss, it was my initiation fee back into the world of racing. I’d forgotten how much fun it could be.’ He looked past Mellish to Sally and Janet, who were engaged in conversation. ‘Christopher, how serious are you about Sally?’

  ‘Is that a run-of-the-mill question to pass the time, or do I detect a note of envy?’

  ‘Envy? Not in the least. Sally’s like a sister to me. I just want to make sure she gets the best.’

  Mellish laughed, a high-pitched guffaw which always grated on Roland’s ears; it seemed so out of place in the man. ‘Sister? That’s not the way I heard it. Sally seems to think it went a lot deeper than that.’

  Roland felt himself tighten. ‘I fail to see why something that happened ten years ago is any concern of yours. Or why she would even tell you.’

  Mellish pulled a small, velvet-covered box from his jacket pocket. Inside was a sparkling two-carat diamond ring. ‘I’m popping the question, old man. In Monte Carlo tonight. That was the idea of the trip. Now do you understand why it’s my concern?’

  ‘Sorry . . .’ Roland immediately forgot any offense he might have taken. ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘Sssh,’ Mellish warned as Sally turned around. ‘I want her to hear it from me, not from you.’

  In Monte Carlo they checked into separate rooms at the Hotel de Paris. After refreshing themselves they met in the restaurant for a late dinner. Afterwards, they walked up the marble staircase to the casino entrance. Massive red carpets stretched ahead; statues, paintings and tapestries surrounded them. Janet gasped at the opulence.

  ‘Just like Las Vegas, eh?’ Mellish joked.

  ‘I’ve never been there,’ Roland replied.

  ‘Don’t. It’s a meat market. Here, at least, you can still enjoy some old-fashioned decadence and grandeur. What’s your game?’

  Roland looked to Janet. ‘Roulette,’ she said, and Roland nodded.

  ‘Bon chance. Sally and I are going to take our chances at baccarat. Meet back here in a couple of hours.’

  Roland took Janet to a roulette table, gave her a pile of chips and let her play. He was content to watch. And think. Sally getting married? If she said yes, of course. She would, he had little doubt about that. She and Mellish had been going together for too long for there to be any other answer. And he felt happy for her. If anyone deserved some personal joy in her life it was Sally; often she reminded him of himself – a young war widow who had sought professional advancement as a means of happiness. And she’d achieved it, now controlling the women’s magazine the Mercury had launched. Roland knew that Sally wanted to be
appointed to the Mercury’s board of directors, and he had no doubt that she someday would be. But there was more to life than just satisfying a drive for success. Hadn’t he only realized that himself?

  He jerked back to the present as Janet let out a happy shout.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘My number came up.’ She gazed in wonderment as the croupier pushed a small mountain of chips toward her.

  ‘Sally’s did, too.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Christopher’s proposing to her. He’s carting the ring around in his pocket.’

  ‘Good for Sally. A little late to start a family, though. How old are they?’

  ‘Christopher’s in his early forties. Sally must be close to thirty-five.’

  ‘Shame. A marriage without a family isn’t much of a marriage.’

  Roland stepped back and allowed Janet to continue playing. A marriage without a family was no marriage at all. Perhaps Sally didn’t see it that way, though. Mellish either. He could well imagine the two of them going on with their own lives, simply providing companionship for each other. A marriage of convenience. Perhaps it would be suitable for them, but Roland knew he could never be happy in such an arrangement. Marriage was children; that was the whole idea behind it – a bunch of kids running around, getting into all the trouble they normally got into, but always the warmth and joy of being together.

  ‘All gone,’ Janet said, brushing one hand against the other. It was a habit of hers Roland had first noticed on the day she’d pretended to be a telephone operator, waiting for Ambassador Menendez to phone his apartment.

  ‘All of it? I thought you were winning a fortune.’

  ‘I was. Then I felt extremely lucky and put everything on one go.’

  ‘And the house suddenly became luckier than you?’

  ‘I suppose so.’ She linked arms with Roland and led him away from the tables. ‘Anyway, I’ve had enough. Let’s go for a walk before we turn in. We’ll tell Sally and Christopher that we’re going out and we’ll see them at breakfast.’

  All Roland could think of was that Janet didn’t have Catarina’s luck at gambling. But the price Catarina had paid for that one burst of good fortune was far too high a premium for anyone to pay.