Barbara Taylor Bradford’s 4-Book Collection

‘Oh, I’m not in the least bit worried,’ Katharine assured him with a bright self-confident smile, and she meant every word, for few things ever fazed her.

Chapter Seven (#ulink_f7305a8e-7e80-5b4e-9849-1e3e4f42ce9f)

The moment Katharine Tempest entered the drawing room Francesca’s eyes were riveted on her. She found herself staring in astonishment and she thought: This girl is too improbable to be real. Everything about her is improbable. Only Francesca’s good manners prevented her from displaying her startled reaction as she rose from the chair near the fireplace to welcome her guest.

The girl who walked with an easy swinging grace across the floor was obviously in her early twenties, perhaps twenty-one or twenty-two. She wore an extremely sophisticated dress, and in consequence, to Francesca, she looked like a little girl dressed up in mother’s clothes. Made of fine black wool crepe, the dress was of mid-calf length, with a draped neckline, a straight skirt and dolman sleeves, and it was unrelieved by any touches of accent colour or jewellery. It struck Francesca that it was the perfect foil for the girl’s looks, and she decided it was exactly right on her after all.

Kim followed closely on Katharine’s heels, smiling broadly, and when they neared the fireplace he stepped forward to introduce the two girls to each other.

As Francesca stretched out her hand she found herself looking into the most extraordinary face she had ever seen. Katharine Tempest was lovely, and breathtakingly so. Her eyes, not blue, not green, but a unique turquoise, made the initial impact, and they were startling in their vividness of colour. They were large and set wide apart, fringed with silky black lashes, and they appeared to swamp her face with radiance.

Francesca thought the girl’s features could not have been more exquisite if they had been chiselled by a sculptor. They were harmoniously distributed in an oval face that was perfectly balanced: a smooth brow, a small straight nose, high cheekbones above hollow cheeks, and a rounded chin. The symmetrical brows matched the rich dark-chestnut hair. This was parted in the centre and cascaded in glossy waves to her shoulders. Her white skin, which was exceptionally fine, was totally devoid of colour, which was why her full mouth, painted with the brightest of red lipstick, seemed all the more striking. Yet it was a child-like mouth, and now, as she smiled, it turned up at the corners to give her a look of innocence. There was also an unusual sweetness in her face that was both poignant and touching. In those first few moments, Francesca could only stand and stare speechlessly at this slender young woman who was accompanying her brother.

It was Katharine who broke the silence.

‘Thank you for inviting me.’ She spoke softly and her gaze was open and friendly as she regarded Francesca with not inconsiderable interest. Aware though she was of her own startling beauty and the impact it made, vanity was not one of Katharine’s chief characteristics. In some ways she was even self-effacing at times, and she strove always to find something special in others, especially those she wanted to like. She said to herself: Kim didn’t do his sister justice. She’s really lovely. The perfect English rose.

‘And I’m so glad you could come,’ Francesca said, returning the smile. ‘Please make yourself comfortable, Katharine. And Kim, why don’t you open the champagne. It’s over there on the chest.’

‘Splendid idea,’ Kim said. He beamed at them both and hurried across the room, rattling the bottle in the silver bucket as he attacked the cork. ‘I think I need a cloth to grip this better,’ he said and went out to the kitchen.

Apart from her physical beauty and unquestionable talent, Katharine possessed that most essential and desirable of all human ingredients, the quality of natural charm, and it was a charm so powerful it was at once dangerous and devastating in its potency. Seating herself on the sofa, Katharine looked across at Francesca and the full force of that charm was now levelled with great concentration in her direction. Katharine smiled. It was her most dazzling smile, guaranteed to disarm, ensnare and enchant.

She said: ‘It’s very nice of you to make supper for us, especially at this late hour. That’s the only problem with being an actress, my world is topsy turvy, and my social life begins when everyone is going to bed.’ She laughed her spiralling laugh. ‘It’s a terrible imposition on my non-theatrical friends, I’m afraid, having to entertain me in the wee small hours. If they want to see me, that is. Sometimes they don’t, and I can’t say I blame them. Not everyone wants to be carousing at midnight, sometimes even later than that!’

‘Oh, I don’t mind, really I don’t,’ Francesca was quick to say. ‘And at least it’s Sunday tomorrow. We can all sleep late.’

Katharine turned and glanced around the room. She was conscious of the beauty of the setting, with its gleaming antiques, the objects of art and the fine paintings. The coral walls gave it a roseate cast, this ambience further enhanced by the lamplight and the fire glowing in the grate. Katharine thought of her little birdcage of a flat, in comparison so sparse and utilitarian. But there was not a shred of envy in her. She was reminded instead of another room, from the happy time of her childhood, before her mother had fallen ill, when her life had been joyous, filled with love and tenderness. It was so very long ago now it might have been a lovely dream, yet Katharine knew otherwise. And it seemed to her that this elegant drawing room in London was just as safe as that other room had been, for it gave her a similar sense of permanence and security. She felt protected from the harsh world that existed beyond these walls. Unexpectedly, she experienced a feeling of longing she did not fully comprehend.

‘How beautiful this room is, Francesca. It’s so gracious, and I love a fire on a nasty wintry night.’ A wistful expression flickered briefly on her face, and there was a small silence before she added quietly, ‘It’s so friendly and inviting.’

‘And comforting too,’ Francesca suggested in a tone that was full of understanding.

Their eyes met and inwardly they assessed each other. Neither Katharine nor Francesca knew it but something very special was beginning between them. A bond was being forged, and it would prove to be a bond so strong and enduring it would resist all outside forces and influences for well over a decade. And when it was finally broken, both of them would be devastated.

But now, this night, they simply knew they liked each other, although they did not, as yet, reveal this. The prolonged silence continued to drift between them, but there were no feelings of awkwardness and they went on appraising each other quite overtly.

Finally a sweet smile floated on to Katharine’s face. ‘And do you know something, Francesca? I even like a fire in summer,’ she began. ‘It’s –’

‘Absolutely necessary in this bloody awful climate,’ cried Kim, as he strode into the room. ‘And especially at Langley. No wonder the ancestors trudged around in that ghastly armour. It was undoubtedly the only way they could keep warm.’

The mood of quiet introspection was broken, and Francesca and Katharine glanced at each other in amusement. Then Katharine said, ‘By the way, it’s very good of you to include Victor Mason, Francesca. I’m sure you’ll like him. He’s not a bit like one would expect. He’s … he’s …’ She stopped, sought the appropriate word and finished, ‘Well, he’s certainly very different.’

‘I’ve never met a film star before, so I don’t know what to expect,’ Francesca admitted with a shy smile. ‘To tell you the truth, I haven’t seen many of his films. Maybe two or three at the most, and certainly nothing lately. How terrible. I do feel at such a disadvantage.’

‘Oh, heavens, you don’t have to worry about that!’ Katharine exclaimed. ‘I think Victor is relieved when he doesn’t have to discuss his movies or his career. And he’s one of the few actors I know who doesn’t want to talk about himself endlessly. Thank goodness he’s not having a love affair with himself, like some performers I know. We can be a pretty boring narcissistic breed at times.’ She twisted the gold signet ring on her little finger absently, wondering what had happened to Victor. He should have been here by now.

‘Have you known him long?’ Francesca asked.

Katharine crossed her legs and smoothed her dress. ‘No, only a few months. Sometimes I think he’s rather a lonely man.’ Her face became still and contemplative and she stared into the blazing fire, lost for a moment in her wandering thoughts.

Francesca could not help noticing this change and it disturbed her. At some time in her life she has been touched by a terrible sadness, she thought. It runs deep in her. This notion at once seemed so ridiculous, so far-fetched, Francesca immediately pushed it away. But she did consider Katharine’s remark about Victor Mason rather odd, in view of his fame. She was wondering how best to respond to it, when Kim saved her the trouble.

‘Champagne!’ he proclaimed, handing them each a crystal flute. He retrieved his own glass from the chest, proposed a toast and hovered over Katharine. His eyes hardly left her face, and Francesca well knew the reason why. She was finding it difficult to tear her own gaze away, was in danger of staring as rudely as she had done initially. Suddenly more than conscious of this, she focused her attention on Kim, who was now standing behind the sofa, intent on Katharine.

Meeting his sister’s direct look, he said, ‘I’ve decided to stay in town next week. I can drive back to Langley with the old man at the weekend. I’ll leave you the Mini, old thing.’

‘Is Father coming up to London? He didn’t mention it to me, when we spoke yesterday. How odd,’ Francesca said.

Kim chortled. ‘You know how vague he is. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s forgotten about it himself. But he has to come up to see Marcus, something about the trust, I believe. Anyway, he’s supposed to arrive late tomorrow evening.’

‘In that case you’d better ring him up first thing in the morning and remind him,’ Francesca instructed. ‘And thanks for offering the Mini. I can use it.’ She shook her head in mock bewilderment, and looked at Katharine. ‘Kim saying Daddy is vague is like the pot calling the kettle black. He’s equally bad at times. He’s been here since Thursday and he didn’t even bother to tell me of Daddy’s plans. Men are so thoughtless.’

‘It’s congenital,’ Katharine declared. She had been listening carefully and, never one to miss an opportunity which would work to her advantage, she seized the one which had just presented itself. She leaned forward eagerly, her face lighting up, her wistfulness completely dispelled. ‘I would love you to come to the play with your father, while he’s in town, Francesca. In fact, I’d like you all to be my guests.’ She glanced over her shoulder at Kim. ‘I’ll get house seats for you. Oh, do come! Please! I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. Kim told me you’re interested in history.’

‘Why, yes, I am. And how very generous of you to invite us,’ said Francesca, touched by Katharine’s thoughtfulness. ‘I would adore to see it.’ Her eyes shone with warmth, but a note of caution crept into her voice as she added, ‘I’m sure Daddy would too. I’ll certainly ask him.’ She halted, contemplating her father’s reaction to Katharine. He could not fail to like her. She had a natural sweetness and lovely manners, and was so obviously a properly brought up young woman, as well as being such a beauty. But liking her did not necessarily guarantee his full approbation, or his acceptance of her as a wife for Kim. Daddy is out of date, Francesca thought with a spurt of exasperation. Katharine might very well be perfect for Kim, just what he needs. She became aware of Katharine’s eyes focused on her, and she remarked quickly, ‘I’ve always found Greek mythology fascinating. The play’s about Helen and Paris and the Trojan War, isn’t it?’

‘That’s right.’ Katharine’s face filled with animation, and she explained, with a kind of shining earnestness, ‘It’s very dramatic and moving, really wonderful entertainment. We’re playing to a packed house every night, standing room only. And we’re sold out for weeks in advance. Naturally we’re all happy about that. Knowing we’re going to be working for some time is very reassuring, apart from the stunning reception the play is getting.’

Kim interjected, ‘The critics raved about Katharine. Actually, they were ecstatic. As well they should be. She gives a super performance, and steals everybody’s thunder.’

‘How thrilling for you to have such a big hit!’ Francesca exclaimed. As she spoke she decided Katharine made the perfect Helen of Troy. The face that launched a thousand ships. How very apt. ‘You must be a very talented actress to have this kind of success in your first West End play. Gosh, to have become a star overnight is simply marvellous. What an extraordinary achievement at your age.’

Had this breathless exultation of her success been uttered by anyone else, it might have sounded gushing, even meretricious to Katharine. But she knew Francesca meant every word. Not unnaturally, Katharine was filled with delight at the obviously genuine accolades. ‘Yes, it is exciting. And thank you, Francesca,’ she said. ‘Having a smash hit is gratifying to all of the cast. We worked hard in rehearsals and wanted the play to succeed.’ A smile played around her mouth. ‘But obviously that doesn’t ensure anything. There are a lot of other elements involved, so many other considerations, and there’s always a kind of nervous uncertainty until we’re actually playing to the public. We need the feedback, the reactions of the audience.’

‘I’m sure you must,’ Francesca remarked, somewhat diffidently. ‘Most people think being an actress is so easy, and the theatrical life very glamorous as well. But I suspect acting must be a particularly difficult art to master.’

She became more confident. ‘Interpreting the playwright’s intentions, and expressing emotions and thoughts and feelings must be highly complex. I’m sure it requires a great deal of intelligence and insight to handle everything.’ She grimaced. ‘I know I couldn’t do it. Not in a thousand years.’

Katharine gave Kim’s sister a seraphic smile. ‘How beautifully you express it! And you’re absolutely right. In reality there is very little glamour or glitter to the theatre, despite what everyone thinks. The public see only the most obvious things, the outer trappings. Acting is the most gruelling work, the salt mines really. It’s demanding, exhausting, frustrating, nerve-racking and challenging. But I find it very satisfying. And of course I don’t deny that it does have its moments of excitement.’ There was a sparkle about her, a lovely glow. The last remnants of her tiredness evaporated in the friendly atmosphere, induced by Francesca’s warmth and sympathetic demeanour. ‘But heavens, we’re boring poor Kim with our chatter.’

‘No, you’re not,’ Kim said. He was relieved that Francesca and Katharine had taken to each other and with such spontaneity. His expression was loving as he added, ‘It’s very entertaining. Actually, I’m glad I’ve hardly been able to get a word in edgewise. Imagine how ghastly I would have felt if you two hadn’t had anything to say to each other.’ He lit a cigarette and thought: this augurs well for the meeting with Father. Francesca will help to smooth the way.

Katharine herself was patently aware of Francesca’s readiness to be friends, and she smiled inwardly, remembering her faint misgivings. How wrong she had been. Francesca was a delight, and she felt completely relaxed in her company, conscious as she was of the other girl’s approval. And approval, above all else, was essential to Katharine Tempest.

‘Why don’t you come to the theatre on Monday evening?’ Katharine asked, wanting to pin Francesca down, her mind teeming with elaborate plans for dinner afterwards. ‘We’re always in good form after our weekend break, and it’s generally a great performance.’ She broke into laughter. ‘Having made that sweeping statement, it’s bound to be the worst show of the week!’

Francesca said, ‘I know it will be quite wonderful, and I would like to come on Monday evening, providing Father can make it. What about you, Kim?’

‘I’m definitely on! I’d love to see it again. Now, how about another glass of champagne, girls?’

‘Than you.’ Katharine handed him her empty glass.

Francesca declined. ‘I’m all right for the moment, and I don’t want to get tiddly. I have the supper to serve, you know.’ She turned back to Katharine. ‘It must be an extraordinary experience working with Terrence Ogden. I’ve always thought he was a brilliant actor. He’s also quite the ladies’ man, isn’t he? All my girl friends have a crush on him. Is he really as divine as he looks?’

Katharine groaned to herself. She did not want to embark on a discussion of Terry’s merits as a great lover, in view of Kim’s jealous display earlier. But there was a look of such eager expectancy on Francesca’s face she did not want to disappoint or offend her by brushing the question aside in a peremptory manner. She drew nearer and dropped her voice. ‘I suppose he does have a bit of a reputation, but it’s rather exaggerated. Terry himself encourages that though. He seems to think it’s good publicity, being linked with lots of lovely ladies in the press, although I’m not so sure myself. Actually, he is very dedicated to his work. I enjoy acting with him. He’s very generous as a performer, and I’ve learned a lot from him.’

If Francesca found Katharine’s answer unrewarding, she did not show it. Her eyes rested briefly but thoughtfully on Kim, who was standing by the chest pouring the champagne, and then shifted to Katharine again. She nodded her head, as if she intuitively understood it was unwise to pursue this line of conversation. ‘Kim told me you’re an American, Katharine. Have you lived in England for a long time?’