Nicky noticed the expression in them and nodded. ‘I’ll stick around, Clee…’
Putting down his fork, he said, ‘What are you doing in September?’
‘Why?’
‘You told me the network owes you a lot of time off, and I thought that you might like to come back here in September. To the farm… to be with me. I plan to take a break then, and it’s lovely here at that time of year. The July and August tourists have split, and it’s peaceful.’
‘I’d love to come, if I’ve finished the script for my fall special.’
‘Try,’ he said.
‘I will. I’ll work like a mad woman through the rest of July and August.’
‘Promise?’
‘I do.’
‘Don’t think I won’t hold you to that, because I will.’ Clee brought his head closer to hers, and said, sotto voce, ‘I don’t want you to turn around, but there’s a woman over there who hasn’t been able to take her eyes off you since she sat down. I have a feeling she knows you, Nick.’
‘Oh. What makes you think that?’
‘Because she looked at you several times, spoke to the man she is with, who eventually turned and glanced at you. Very discreetly. And in between her conversation with him and bites of food, she keeps sneaking looks at you.’
‘Perhaps she’s seen me on television… perhaps she’s a fan. Is she American?’
‘I don’t think so. She looks English to me. Very English, and so does the guy she’s with. Okay, she’s talking to a waiter, you can look now.’
Nicky twisted in her chair and turned her head slightly. She saw the woman immediately. Her breath caught in her throat; she felt a tightening in her chest. She was about to turn back to Clee, when the woman looked across the room.
Nicky was in her direct line of vision.
Two pairs of blue eyes met and held.
The woman smiled at Nicky, her whole face lighting up with obvious pleasure.
Nicky smiled in return, lifted her hand in a small gesture of acknowledgement.
The woman spoke to her companion. Instantly, he swung his head, then swivelled around in his chair, and beamed at Nicky.
Nicky glanced at Clee, and explained, ‘They’re old friends. I must go and have a quick word with them. Excuse me a minute.’
She got up and walked across the room, and Clee could not help wondering who they were. Nicky’s voice had sounded odd, breathless, even strained. She’s uptight all of a sudden, he decided, and lolled back against the chair, watching. He was filled with curiosity.
‘Anne, it’s lovely to see you,’ Nicky said when she came to a stop at the other table.
‘And you, my darling,’ Anne responded, immediately rising, embracing her, holding her close for a moment.
The man also got to his feet, and a second later he was hugging Nicky to him. ‘You look wonderful, my dear, more beautiful than ever, if I may say so.’
‘Thank you, Philip, you look pretty terrific yourself, and so do you, Anne. Please sit down both of you, please.’
They did so, and Nicky leaned against the back of Anne’s chair, bending slightly forward in order to speak to them. ‘You must think I’m very rude, Anne, I haven’t been in touch for ages. I have no excuse, except that I’ve been travelling the world for my work.’
‘Darling, don’t apologize, I understand perfectly. You lead a frightfully busy life. But I must admit, I have missed your phone calls… quite a lot, actually, Nicky. However, I do realize you have another life to lead now.’ Anne gazed up into her face, smiling faintly. They exchanged a long look, full of understanding, then Anne said, ‘Who is that awfully attractive man you’re with, Nicky?’
‘An old friend… a colleague. Cleeland Donovan.’
‘The famous war photographer?’ Philip asked.
‘Yes,’ Nicky said.
‘Brilliant chap. I have several of his books, and I recently saw some of the most remarkable pictures which he took in Beijing. Can’t remember the magazine.’
‘Paris Match, perhaps,’ Nicky said. ‘We were there together, covering the crackdown.’
‘Nasty business that. Very tragic outcome,’ Philip said.
‘The bloodshed was unbelievable,’ Nicky told him, and turned to look at Anne. ‘Are you here on vacation?’
‘Yes. We’re staying with friends of Philip’s at Tarascon, not far from St Rémy. Are you on holiday, too?’
Nicky nodded. ‘Clee has a farm between St Rémy and Aix, a lovely old mas, and I’ve just spent a week there. Resting. Clee came down for the weekend. We were both pretty done in after China.’
‘I can well imagine,’ Anne said. ‘I do wish you would come over to Tarascon with your friend, for lunch or dinner one day. Will you?’
‘It’s kind of you to invite us, Anne, but I’m afraid I have to be back in New York on Monday. I’m leaving for Paris tomorrow morning.’
‘What a pity, it would have been so nice to catch up…’ Anne reached out, put her hand on Nicky’s arm. ‘I’ve missed you.’
‘Oh Anne, I know, I’ve missed you too, and it’s all my fault. I’ve been so neglectful.’
Anne smiled, but made no comment.
Philip volunteered, ‘Perhaps we can have coffee later?’
‘We’ve almost finished dinner, Philip, and you and Anne are just starting.’ Her smile was rueful as she explained, ‘I have to be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow, to drive to Marseille. I have an early plane to Paris.’
‘C’est dommage,’ he said, sounding as disappointed as Anne had only a moment ago.
Nicky took her leave of them graciously, and returned to the table. Immediately, she apologized to Clee. ‘I’m sorry. That took longer than I expected.’
‘Who are they?’
‘English friends.’
‘Is she related to you?’
‘No. Why do you ask that?’ Nicky’s brows drew together in puzzlement.
‘You look alike. Same blonde hair, blue eyes, and there’s even a facial resemblance.’
‘Oh, do you think so?’
‘Are they here on vacation?’
Nicky nodded. ‘They’re staying with friends in Tarascon.’
‘A lot of English people have homes down here these days, and smart Parisians as well. Provence has become very popular. I hope it’s not going to get taken over by the rich and the chic.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Nicky said. ‘That would really spoil it.’
Clee expected Nicky to say more about her friends, but she made no further comment about them, merely sipped her wine in silence. Eventually he said, ‘Would you like dessert? That’s the one thing I didn’t order when we were out on the terrace. Crêpes are one of their specialties.’
‘No, thanks. Just coffee, Clee, please.’
‘I guess I’ll have the same.’ Clee ordered for them both, and then sat studying Nicky for a few minutes. Without understanding what exactly it was, he knew there was something different about her. On the surface her demeanour was the same as it had been all evening. Yet there had been a subtle change in her, indefinable though this was.
Convinced that it had something to do with the English couple, he said, ‘The woman was very affectionate with you, Nicky. Obviously she’s extremely fond of you.’
‘Yes, she is.’
‘Who are they? I mean, what are their names?’
‘Philip and Anne.’
‘What does he do?’
‘He’s in Whitehall. You know, with the British Foreign Office. He has some important job, but I don’t know exactly what it is.’
‘How do you know them?’ he probed.
‘Through my parents, I met them through my parents. My father’s known Philip for a number of years. But why are you so interested in them, Clee?’
He shrugged. ‘I’m not sure, except that you and she have a look of each other, and she was very loving with you. And when you were talking to her I noticed that you appeared to care, and quite deeply, for her.’
&nb
sp; ‘I do, in my own way.’
The coffee was served and the wine waiter came back and asked if they wished to have cognac, or any other after-dinner drink. Nicky shook her head.
‘No, thank you,’ Clee said.
Once they were alone, Nicky leaned into Clee. ‘I haven’t told you about my fall special,’ she said. ‘I decided to call it Decade of Destruction, a title Arch wasn’t completely sold on, to tell you the truth. But I’m going to fight like hell for it. It’s perfect for my show.’
‘What’s the subject?’ Clee asked, intrigued. ‘As if I didn’t know. The last few years of wars and uprisings and revolutions, right?’
‘More or less. That’s how I’m starting it, but I’m leading right into the nineties, and, in a way, sort of forecasting what’s to come… that’s the decade I’m referring to—1990 to the year 2000. The decade of destruction.’
‘Why doesn’t Arch like the title?’
‘He does, actually. However, he thinks the network will balk, that they’ll say it’s too depressing.’
‘That figures. On the other hand, you’re a big number, and surely your opinion carries some weight.’
‘Only some,’ she said, measuring a tiny space between her thumb and forefinger. ‘About this much. You don’t know networks.’
‘I thought you were going to do a special about the child soldiers, the kids we’ve seen fighting in Cambodia, Ireland, Iran, and all over the world,’ Clee said. ‘The little kids toting guns for their governments.’
‘I am, but that’s for next spring.’
They talked for a while about the two programmes she was planning, and Clee decided that perhaps after all he had imagined the change in her. She looked and sounded perfectly normal to him now.
A short while later, when they were leaving, Nicky had no alternative but to stop at the English couple’s table. She introduced him. ‘Anne, I’d like you to meet Clee, and Clee, this is Anne.’
He shook hands with the Englishwoman. She smiled up into his face and he thought she was one of the loveliest-looking women he had ever seen. He also realized that she did not resemble Nicky facially; they simply had the same blonde colouring.
‘And Philip, this is Clee,’ Nicky went on, and he was forced to let go of Anne’s hand in order to greet the other man.
‘We’re so sorry you can’t come over to see us in Tarascon,’ Anne said. ‘But perhaps we’ll meet again one day.’
‘I hope so,’ he replied.
‘Keep up the good work,’ Philip said to him. ‘I’m a great admirer of yours—of your extraordinary photography.’
‘Thank you,’ Clee said. He was about to suggest they meet up on the terrace a little later for an after-dinner drink, when Nicky took hold of his arm, gripped it tightly, and edged away.
‘It’s been lovely to see you both, but we really must go,’ she said to Anne and Philip. ‘I’m afraid I still have to pack.’
‘Of course,’ Anne said. ‘And bon voyage, darling.’
***
As they walked to the car, Clee remarked, ‘She’s a really beautiful woman. But her resemblance to you is negligible. By the way, you didn’t tell me their name, I mean their surname.’
There was a silence.
Finally Nicky said, ‘They’re not married. He’s called Philip Rawlings.’
‘And Anne?’
Nicky cleared her throat. ‘She’s Anne Devereaux… Lady Anne Devereaux.’
Clee stopped in his tracks, and swung to face her. ‘Is she related to Charles?’ he asked, surprise reverberating in his voice.
‘Yes.’
‘His sister?’
‘No. His mother.’
‘But she’s so young looking!’
‘She’s fifty-eight. She had Charles when she was only eighteen.’
‘Her husband, where’s he?’
‘He’s dead. He has been for years.’
‘So Philip is her boyfriend?’
‘Yes.’
‘She cares for you a lot, Nick, but then I’ve already said that.’
‘Yes,’ Nicky responded softly. ‘She thought of me as the daughter she’d never had.’
Clee said nothing. They had arrived at the car, and he unlocked the door, helped her to get in. As they drove off in the direction of St Rémy he decided not to ask any more questions about Anne Devereaux. He knew that Nicky was touchy about Charles, and he did not want to create any problems.
Nicky hardly spoke on the drive back to the farm. She appeared to be far away.
Clee stole surreptitious glances at her from time to time, and he noticed how rigidly set her face had become. Even in profile this was quite apparent. Eventually, he put a tape in the player in the dashboard and concentrated on his driving. He sank down into himself and was soon lost in his thoughts.
After a while, Nicky leaned her head against the car window and closed her eyes.
Clee was not sure whether she was dozing or merely feigning sleep. His heart sank. The evening which had begun so wonderfully, so auspiciously, had suddenly fizzled out. He realized that he was vaguely angry, even a bit distressed, and he was aware that this was because of the change in Nicky, or rather what had wrought it. She had been reminded of the past tonight, and in the strongest possible way. He cursed Charles Devereaux under his breath. That man seemed to have an uncanny way of coming back to haunt Nicky—and now, indirectly, him.
SEVENTEEN
‘This is one of the best scripts you’ve ever written, Nick,’ Arch said, handing it to her across his desk.
‘I’m glad you like it,’ Nicky replied, looking pleased as she took it from him. ‘But let’s not forget that I had some help from Ellen, Sam and Wilma, not to mention you. It was a team effort.’
Arch shook his head. ‘No, it wasn’t. Basically, it’s all yours. It’s definitely got your inimitable stamp on it, and you were in cracking form when you wrote this.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, smiling at him.
‘Incidentally, we’re coming up with some great footage to go with the script,’ Arch volunteered. ‘Stuff we found in the archives, as you said we would. The show’s going to be a humdinger, Nick, very powerful.’ He leaned forward intently, pinning her with his eyes. ‘Listen, I’ve made a couple of changes, only minor ones, if you wouldn’t mind looking ’em over now. They’re on pages six, twenty, and forty-one.’
Nicky nodded, did as he said, and read the changes he had made, as well as his explanatory notes in the margin of each page. Then she looked up and nodded quickly. ‘You’ve really strengthened some of my points. Thanks, Arch. And the changes are fine, I think this does it—let’s go with this script. There’s nothing else to add.’
‘You’re right, and since you approve, I’ll get the script out to retype immediately.’
Handing it back to him, Nicky remarked casually, ‘I suppose you’ve spoken to our venerable President of News again… about the title?’
‘I sure have, and Larry’s with us, kid. He agrees Decade of Destruction is a great title, and appropriate, and he’s pushing it through, so don’t worry. In any case, you know Larry’s never been one to shy away from doom and gloom. In fact, he thinks viewers are fascinated by catastrophes, and I’m inclined to agree with him.’
‘So we’re all set to go?’ Nicky asked. ‘Is that what you’re saying?’
‘You betcha! I also got an okay from Larry for your other special—the one about the gun-toting kids. Have you had any thoughts about titles yet?’
‘My working title is Innocents with Guns. What do you think?’
‘Not bad, Nicky, not bad at all.’ Arch leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. After a moment, he glanced at her, gave her a long, steady look.
Nicky said, ‘What’s wrong? What is it?’
‘Nothing’s wrong, on the contrary, everything’s right. Larry wants to move you in another direction next year, Nick, and he’s going to talk to you about it.’
‘What kind of direction?’
she asked sharply, her eyes suddenly wary.
‘He wants you to do some different stuff, maybe just a fraction lighter than—’
‘Hey, wait a minute,’ she cut in peremptorily, intensifying her stare. ‘I’ve always covered hard news, politics and wars! What are you trying to tell me? That he wants to pull me off my assignment as chief war correspondent for the network?’
‘No, no, I’m not saying that at all. Just hold your horses and listen. Don’t get so excited, okay?’
‘Okay. Shoot. I’m all ears.’
‘Larry’s talking about your specials, that’s all. He thought that after Decade, which he plans to air in November, and the special on the kids with guns, which he’s programming for next year, that you yourself might want a bit of a change. He was thinking of a series of interviews with world leaders—the President, Mrs Thatcher, Gorbachev. So, how do you feel about it?’
‘Not sure, and I’ll tell Larry that when we have our meeting.’ She shrugged. ‘But it could be interesting, I suppose.’
‘You don’t sound very enthusiastic.’
‘Don’t be misled by my tone, Arch, I’m interested. Very interested, as a matter of fact. But you know me well enough to realize that I’ve got to have an angle, come up with a strong point of view, for my specials. They can’t be wishy-washy. And I’m not averse to change, on the contrary. Actually, I like new innovations.’
‘I know that, and so does Larry, and in any case he’s looking to you, and to me, to come up with some suggestions.’ He flashed her a wide grin. ‘You can even interview movie stars, if you want.’
Nicky shook her head vehemently, though she was also grinning. ‘No, thanks. I ain’t even going to try to compete with Barbara Walters. She’s the best at that, and we all know it.’
‘Barbara also interviews political leaders, Nick, and she does a really good mix of celebrities at times. It might be worth thinking about that type of show. Let’s not forget that her specials get very big ratings. And I mean big.’
‘I told you, she’s the best. And I certainly don’t want to be second best. I’ll stick to my formula. Anyway, I prefer to come up with some ideas of my own.’ She sat back in the chair, and sighed lightly. ‘To tell you the honest truth, Arch, a change might be what I need. I felt a bit exhausted after Beijing. Sort of burnt out.’
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