Barbara Taylor Bradford’s 4-Book Collection

Victor was striding rapidly towards the lobby. Nick kept in step, and when there was enough distance between themselves and Lazarus, he said, ‘Jesus, Vic, you really –’

‘Let’s wait until we’re in the street, Nicky.’ They collected their coats from the men’s cloakroom in silence. Victor shrugged into his camel-coloured cashmere overcoat and looked at Nicholas out of the corner of his eye. He winked theatrically, murmured, ‘That was short and sweet. Very sweet,’ and headed for the revolving door that opened onto Piccadilly.

Nick was so elated he could hardly contain himself. He had been a champion boxer at Princeton, and once they were outside he could not resist executing a few nimble, ballet-like steps. He feinted, and then delivered a light punch on Victor’s shoulder, exclaiming, ‘You really shoved it to him! Gave him the whole enchilada!’

‘I’m lucky I was able to do so,’ Victor said with a grin. ‘Thank God I really don’t need him, or his lousy money.’

‘So you’ve made a deal with a major? For financing?’ Nick questioned, his bright blue eyes probing.

Victor shook his head negatively. ‘No, not yet. But it’s in the works. Metro’s considering it, and very seriously. But even if they turn it down, I’m not going to abort the production after all. I’ve decided to go ahead. Too much sweat, yours and mine, has gone into this project for me to let it go that easily.’

Relief flooded through Nick. ‘Hey, that’s great, kid. But can Bellissima finance the picture completely?’

‘Just about. If I defer my salary, and if I can find other ways to cut production costs, which Jerry Massingham seems to think we can do. But I’m pretty sure Metro’s going to roll with us. They want me for another picture of theirs, so they’re willing to play ball with me on this one.’

‘Will you do their picture, after Wuthering Heights?’

‘Most likely. I’ve more or less said yes, in principle. Subject to reading the script of course.’

Nick chuckled and jabbed Victor’s arm again. ‘Did you see Lazarus’s face, when he realized that you’d torn up the contract? I thought he was going to have apoplexy. I wish he had, the slimy bastard. I almost punched him in the nose when he was raving on about the script as if I wasn’t there.’

Victor laughed. ‘I thought you might myself. That’s why I didn’t dare look at you. Thanks for restraining yourself, old sport. We could have all ended up on the front page of the Daily Mirror if you hadn’t.’

‘Well, despite the insulting way in which he treated me, I wouldn’t have missed being there for anything. I bet it’s the first time anybody’s turned down his money. He was staggered.’

Victor nodded in agreement. ‘You’re probably right. That’s part of his problem. He’s had too much power for too long, running that fiefdom of his. He thinks he can push everybody around. I suppose I could have been more above board with him, and told him days ago that I wasn’t prepared to go ahead with the deal. But I’m afraid the actor in me overrode my scruples. I couldn’t resist playing the scene out to the bitter end. And I have to admit, Nicky, it gave me a lot of satisfaction, dumping him exactly the way I did.’

‘Me too. But I didn’t like his parting shot though. About your regretting it. He’s got a nasty reputation … for being vindictive. And there is something inimical about him. He might just try to get back at you, Vic.’ Nick’s voice vibrated with nervousness. ‘I think he’s creepy. Sinister. To be honest, he kind of scares me. Doesn’t he scare you?’

‘Not at all.’ Victor looked at Nick quickly, his eyes narrowing. ‘And I don’t think he scares you either, sport. As for being sinister, I think that’s your writer’s imagination working overtime. You know you enjoy playing casting director and visualizing people in various roles. The whores and the ladies, the good guys and the heavies. Goodness versus evil, and all that jazz.’

‘I suppose I do,’ Nick agreed. ‘Nonetheless, I think he’s bloody unscrupulous. And you said yourself he’s paranoid. Jesus, I feel sorry for Hélène. I don’t relish the idea of her being involved with a guy like him –’

‘I know what you mean,’ Victor interrupted. ‘But she’s a big girl. I think she’s capable of taking care of herself when it comes to men. Don’t you?’

‘I guess. Incidentally, did you notice that flicker of interest when you explained who Katharine was?’

‘Sure, and I saw that same look, only much more pronounced, on Monday night in the bar at Les A. Lazarus came in with this well-stacked, stately redhead, dripping jewellery from every pore, and clinging to him like an octopus. And from the moment he noticed Katharine, she might as well have not been there. And don’t think she wasn’t aware of his attention straying. It was all very pointed. They left after one drink, just before you arrived.’

‘Who was the redhead?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ Victor responded. ‘But I can tell you one thing, Nick. I think Mike Lazarus is a womanizer in his own quiet but rather predatory way. Something I hadn’t realized before.’

‘That’s what I meant, about his being unscrupulous. I bet he’s a real bastard where women are concerned. And it’s apparent to me he keeps a girl in every port. Hélène in Paris. The redhead here in London. God knows who he’s got stashed where.’ He sighed. ‘Poor Hélène. She doesn’t deserve him. But then I guess that’s her problem, not mine.’

Victor was striding out quickly, suddenly preoccupied. After a moment he said, ‘Do you mind if we take a long walk, Nicky? I don’t feel like going back to Claridge’s just yet. I’m restless, and I need the exercise.’

‘That’s fine with me, kid.’

Victor and Nick kept up a brisk pace, not talking, but perfectly at ease with each other, as they had been since their first meeting. They were so well attuned to each other’s moods. Both were immersed in their own thoughts as they walked along Piccadilly, past Green Park, heading towards Hyde Park Corner.

Victor was pondering the current negotiations now under way with MGM, structuring the deal in his head, endeavouring to formulate all the elements which would make it even more tempting to them than it already was. His presence in the film gave them the box office guarantee they required, and they were not challenging him about casting an unknown actress in the female lead. But if he could offer them a prize package of superior talent, then the deal would really fly, and fly high. There was no question in his mind that he needed a back-up of good, solid British actors who were names, most especially Terry Ogden for the important role of Edgar Linton. And the right director was an imperative. Mark Pierce. Unfortunately Mark had already turned the picture down, because he did not want to direct a remake. Or so he said. Victor knew he had to have him, must get him at any price. But he didn’t really have to worry about either Mark Pierce or Terry. That problem was in other capable hands, would imminently be solved. Now if he could get Ossie Edwards then he was in clover. He was the best damned cinematographer in England, and he was already establishing an international reputation. There was also the matter of a completion guarantee. He might have to get that from one of the financial guys in New York, but Jake Watson would advise him. Jake was due to arrive early next week, and was itching to start shooting. Yes, everything was starting to roll along smoothly, now that he had made a few crucial decisions.

As they pushed ahead, Nick looked at Victor from time to time, but said nothing, not wishing to intrude. His own thoughts had stayed with Mike Lazarus. Despite what Victor said about his writer’s imagination, nothing could dissuade him from the belief that the man was somehow dangerous. His parting words had sounded ominous, even threatening. But what could Mike Lazarus do to harm Victor? He did not carry any weight in the motion picture industry, and besides Vic was a big star, a superstar in fact, who was also part of the old Hollywood Establishment, that cliquish upper echelon that was almost a private club. Jesus, you are stupid! Nick suddenly exclaimed to himself. Men with the kind of power Lazarus wielded invariably, and inevitably, had influence with somebody or other in every business where big money was involved. He turned the matter over in his mind several times, analysing and worrying, as was his custom. Finally he gave up, recognizing that worrying would not solve anything. Victor seemed calm enough, and was confidently going ahead with the film. Best not to borrow trouble, Nick decided. If Lazarus comes at Vic, he’ll just have to meet the bastard head on. And I’ll be right there with him in the fray.

Nick shivered and hunched further into his trenchcoat, suddenly feeling the nip in the air, and the bite of the wind which had blown up. They were on Park Lane now, approaching the Dorchester Hotel, and beyond he could see the top of Marble Arch silhouetted against the sky. He lifted his head quickly, squinting. It was no longer the spring sky it had been earlier in the day, golden and glorious and shimmering with blue luminosity, like the glaze on antique Chinese porcelain. The sun was fugitive, and the blueness had been obliterated by daubs of darker and more sombre hues, a range of greys, ombréd from pearl to opal to cinereous, and leaking into lividity at the outer edges. There, on the rim of the horizon, splinters of light suddenly poked out like shards of broken crystal, and pierced the darkening cloud mass with spears of glittering brilliance. In an instant it had become an unearthly sky, the kind that presaged, or followed, a thunderstorm, and to Nick it was perfectly beautiful.

He did not mind the rain and fog and greyness of London in the midst of winter. Unlike Victor, who missed the sunshine and balmy breezes of Southern California, Nick loved England’s inclement weather and changing seasons. Perhaps because it reminded him of New York and his childhood, and also of his years at Oxford University. Salad days. A wave of nostalgia swept over him. For no reason at all, his thoughts turned to Francesca Cunningham. Now she was really something else. There’s a lot more to that one than meets the eye, he thought.

Nick tapped Victor’s shoulder and said, with a soft laugh, ‘Lazarus was a bit hard on Francesca, wasn’t he? I’d hardly call her insipid. I think she’s quite a dazzler!’

‘I’ll say she is!’ Victor exclaimed, glancing at him. ‘I got the distinct impression Lazarus was attempting to be inflammatory when he made the comment.’

Nick peered at him, his brow furrowed. ‘Did you, now?’ He studied Victor reflectively, and then went on, ‘But why would he think that a derogatory remark about Francesca would inflame you? Does he know something I don’t? Come on, Vic, ’fess up. What gives?’

Victor laughed. ‘I guess you could call that a Freudian slip on my part. No, he doesn’t know anything. There isn’t anything to know. But he might have noticed I was paying special attention to Francesca in the bar for a while, trying to make her feel comfortable. Mind you, I was really only being my usual charming and gallant self.’

‘Hey, come on, kid! You can’t get out of it that easily. I know you too well. And what did you mean by Freudian slip? Explain.’

‘If you must know, I was rather taken with her, when I first met her. And, well … Well, I guess she has been dancing around in my head a bit. But that doesn’t mean a thing. She’s a mere child, Nicholas. A baby.’

‘San Quentin quail, eh?’ Nick grinned, his eyes twinkling with considerable amusement.

‘Hardly that. She is nineteen.’

‘She’s too young for you, maestro.’

‘You’re damned right she’s too young,’ Victor shot back sharply. ‘Twenty years too young.’

Nick gave Victor a sceptical look, trying to recall his behaviour on Monday evening. If he remembered correctly, Vic had been extremely proper and hadn’t paid undue attention to Francesca, or even spoken to her much. But that’s meaningless with him, Nick muttered under his breath. He’s a dark horse. ‘Are you trying to tell me you’re not going to do anything about her?’ Nick asked.

‘Of course I’m not going to do anything about her. She’s off limits. But regardless of that, I don’t think she’s interested in me anyway. So this discussion is pointless.’

Nick threw back his head and roared. ‘What do you bet, old buddy? What do you bet? I’ll give you a hundred to one she is more than interested.’

‘If she is, I’ll never know, because I’m not even going to try to find out. I told you, she’s far too young, and naïve, and we’re from different worlds anyway. It would be a bad mix. Trouble I don’t need.’

‘That’s true. By the way, talking of trouble, have you heard anything from Arlene The Bitch?’

Victor frowned. ‘Not a peep out of her, or her fancy lawyers, who are no doubt still figuring out ways to take me to the goddamn cleaners. Listen, don’t even mention her name, you’re spoiling my day.’

‘Sorry, Vic,’ Nick answered, and went on, ‘I got the impression Francesca is terrified of you.’

Victor gave him a baffled look and said, ‘Terrified of me! You gotta be kidding, kid. What the hell do you mean?’

‘Oh, I don’t think she’s afraid of you the way most women are, you know, of your fatal charm. Far from it. I think she’s quite a cool customer, very self-possessed. But when we were talking the other night, she said she came from Yorkshire. I asked her what she thought of Wuthering Heights, and she told me you had forbidden her to discuss it with me. Then she closed up like a clam and didn’t open her mouth for ages.’ He gave him a quizzical look and asked, ‘Did you forbid her to talk to me about it?’

Victor couldn’t help laughing. ‘No, of course not. I made some joking remark about keeping her away from you. Because she has strong opinions, Lady Francesca does. She told me, and in no uncertain terms, that it wasn’t a love story at all, but a novel about revenge.’