After finishing his asparagus, Larry said, “My agent sent me a copy of The Winslow Boy. There’s going to be a revival of it, but I can’t work up any enthusiasm. What do you think, Mother?”
Pandora gave him a long, thoughtful look. “My advice is to take your wife on a honeymoon, which I know she wants very much. Therefore, don’t take the play.”
“Thanks,” he said, smiling. “I just knew I had better fish to fry.”
“Absolutely, and here come the fish cakes. After we eat I’ll endeavor to explain about your father’s accusations that I am out there screwing another man.”
“Mother!” he exclaimed, looking at her aghast. “Everybody heard that at the next table.”
“Oh, good. Now they’ll know there’s still life in the old gal yet.”
He stared at her and burst out laughing. She had said this with such glee, and such total disregard for public opinion, he couldn’t help but admire her. There was nobody like his mother, she was truly a one-off. No, he was wrong about that; there was somebody just like her in certain ways. His wife. No wonder he loved M, and no wonder M and his mother got on so well. Two peas in a pod. Sort of.
Once the plates had been cleared and Pandora had finished her third glass of champagne, she said in a low, steady voice, “Before I get to these awful rows your father and I have been having, I must tell you a story, Larry darling. All right?”
“Yes, that’s fine, and take your time. I’m not in a hurry, Ma, I’m all yours.”
“Do you remember I once said to you that you can know somebody all of your life and never truly know them? And yet, conversely, you can meet someone and know who they are and what they’re all about in an instant. I think I likened it to being part of the same tribe.”
“I do remember. In fact, I’ve never forgotten what you said. And actually, that’s exactly the way I felt when I met M.”
His mother nodded and continued. “That happened to me, Larry, a long time ago. Thirty years ago . . . I was just forty. And I had a happy marriage, a good husband, and six beautiful children.”
“When I was five years old,” he said, suddenly remembering something, although he wasn’t sure what this was, something hidden at the back of his consciousness . . . a memory, forgotten . . . and yet not.
“That’s right . . . you were five years old. And I met a man at a dinner party. I wasn’t working at the time, your father was in a play, and so I went alone to the dinner. It was one of those instantaneous things. He looked across the room at me, and I looked back, and my whole world was turned upside down. I forgot everything. It seemed to me there was only him. And I knew at the end of the evening that he was mine, that I was his.”
“Who was he?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“You mean you won’t, Ma.”
“I do mean that, yes. I will never tell you who he was. Nor will I ever tell anyone else, for that matter.”
“He’s still alive, isn’t he?”
“Yes. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. All those years ago . . . he asked me to meet him for lunch the next day. It was a Wednesday, matinee day, and so I could. Your father was at the theater. I knew at the end of the lunch that I had met my true soul mate. I knew him, Larry, knew who he was, what he was. It was as if I’d known him since the day I was born. And he felt the same way. We knew we had fallen madly in love before we’d even left the restaurant that Wednesday.”
“And so you had an affair?”
“No, we didn’t. I saw him whenever I could, but I was fearful of sleeping with him. . . . I just knew it would be fatal if I did.”
“So you didn’t sleep with him. But what happened?”
“We became close friends, and saw each other quite a lot over a couple of weeks. But we never embarked on an affair because I knew it would destroy my family if I left your father for him. He knew that, too. I loved this man deeply, to the core of my soul, and he loved me, but he had his obligations, too.”
“Was he a married man?”
“Yes. With children. And he was well known.”
“Another actor, Mum? He was, wasn’t he? Who was he? You can tell me. I’d never betray a confidence.”
“No, Larry, I won’t tell you. I really mustn’t, darling. I will only say this, he was a politician, a man who was going far, and I didn’t want him to destroy his career. Thirty years ago that could easily have happened, you know. Things were a bit different then.”
“And so you never saw him again, and once more became the dutiful wife and mother?” Larry gave her a sympathetic look.
“That’s more or less correct. It was terribly hard for me at times, but I loved you all so much. And although your father was difficult, he was a decent man, and I had no intention of hurting him. So obviously, since I’m sitting here with you today, I stayed. I never saw . . . him again. At least not alone. We did run into each other from time to time at public functions and quickly removed ourselves from each other’s company.”
“God, that must have been a bloody tough thing to do, Ma. How could you stand it?” Larry asked, thinking of how he would feel if he had to give up M. He looked hard at his mother, admiring her loyalty to his father and then to her children.
“It was tough, but we did it. We had no other choice.”
“So what’s all this got to do with Dad’s accusations? Oh, my God! You met him again. Last year. That’s it, isn’t it, Mother?”
“We did bump into each other, yes. But look here, Larry, we only had one lunch and one dinner in restaurants. After that we saw each other at his house. Anyway, to cut to the chase once more. Your father found out that I’d been seen with a man, having lunch, looking intimate and supposedly involved. And because I’d taken the film around the time your father was going to Canada, he decided I’d made a point of being in London in order to be with this man whilst he was away.”
“But did Dad know he was the man from the past?”
“No, of course he didn’t. Because he had never known about that friendship. Your father was in Caesar and Cleopatra at the time. It was a difficult role, and it was a huge hit. He was suddenly a bigger star than ever. He was involved with work, publicity, and all that other stuff that comes with fame. I had been extraordinarily discreet. Nobody knew about this . . . soul mate of mine. I hadn’t felt the need to confide in a friend, and neither had he.”
“So why has Dad been so suspicious? And anyway, how did he find out?” Larry asked, bafflement echoing in his voice.
“Someone told him I was seen with a man whilst he was slogging away in Toronto. Who that was I might never really know. But someone did pour poison. And I have my suspicions.”
“Mum, listen to me! I bet he was that two-faced bloody brother of mine. Edward. He was here in London before going over to Canada when Dad was rehearsing Cyrano. Remember?”
“I don’t think Edward is the culprit, Larry. Besides, he knows which side his bread’s buttered on. He wouldn’t do anything to upset me, because—”
“You’re giving him money, aren’t you, Mother?” Larry interrupted. “Giving him thousands so he can support all those women, all those kids. You’re enabling him to behave badly.”
“I am giving him money, Larry, yes, because all of those kids, as you describe them, happen to be my grandchildren. I can’t see them starve just because my son, their father, behaves like a juvenile delinquent.” Pandora shook her head. “I don’t believe Edward was the one who told your father, but somebody definitely did.”
“So, Dad must know the name of this . . . soul mate of yours, Ma, think about that. Since you’ve obviously been seen in public, they must have passed on a name.”
“What are you getting at, Larry?”
“You can tell me his name, can’t you? Since Dad must know, why the big secret?”
“Such curiosity, darling, but no, I can’t reveal the man’s name, because whoever it was who gossiped to your father didn’t know the name of my old friend. He hasn’t bee
n in office for years, he’s someone from the past, he doesn’t look the same. Only someone of my age might recall who he actually is—”
“Are you saying a younger person told Dad?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Who, Ma? Someone we know?” He threw her a searching look.
“I think it might have been Miranda,” she finally confided.
“Our Miranda? Your daughter? My sister? Ma, you must be joking.”
Pandora bit her lip, looked suddenly saddened as she murmured in a low voice, “The first time I had lunch with my soul mate—Oh, God, let’s just call him the politician, that’s easier. Well, that day, I was sitting facing the door in a little restaurant in Chelsea, and I suddenly saw Miranda rushing out. It was as if she had come in, seen me, and hurried off. Embarrassed. She looked embarrassed.”
“God, I can’t believe it! Why would she tell Dad she’d seen you with a man having lunch? And so what? You have male friends in the theater with whom you lunch and dine. Do you think Miranda would gossip to Dad? I mean really? And they don’t like each other, Ma.”
“But who else knew where to get in touch with him? Only someone in the family, and she’s the only person who saw me that day, as far as I know.”
Larry sighed, leaned back in his chair, staring at his mother thoughtfully. Taking a deep breath, he said softly, “Maybe you’re right. Perhaps Miranda wants to curry favor with Dad, stroke his ego. She might be thinking of that last will and testament.”
“Larry, please. Don’t be ghastly. I can’t stand it when you’re like that. However, to be fair, there is a point to what you say. And regarding my friend, the politician. He’s a widower; one daughter is dead, the other lives abroad; he’s rather lonely. And once, long ago, we cared about each other. He wants us to be friends, and that’s all there is to it. He just needs a friend.”
“You said you meet at his house? Why?”
“I didn’t want to run into anyone I knew a second time, because your father was acting up so much once he’d heard the story. I was simply trying to be discreet.” She paused, took hold of his hand. “I was being kind to both of them.”
“I understand. But where’s it at now, with my father?”
“I’ve finally convinced him the man is just an old friend, someone from when I worked in Los Angeles, a man who’d been kind to me when I was filming there from time to time. I also managed to convince him that my old friend was only over here on a short trip and then confided that the man was gay. And there the matter rests. The rows have stopped; your father is more like himself. And just think on this, dear heart. I managed to do all this simply by telling a little lie about a man’s sexuality.”
“I’m glad you did, since it makes life easier for me, for the family, when the two of you are not at loggerheads.”
“Glad to hear it, Larry.”
“Ma?”
“Yes?”
“Who is the man? Please tell me.”
She looked into his extraordinary blue eyes and sighed. He was her favorite, she loved him unconditionally; she trusted him implicitly. And so she told him who her soul mate of long ago was.
“Jesus Christ!” Larry exclaimed, looking thunderstruck. “The true seat of power. Oh, Ma.”
“Quite,” Pandora murmured, opened her bag, took out her lip gloss, and ran it over her beautiful mouth.
The moment he walked into the flat after lunch Larry knew that something was wrong. M was standing in the library corner, intently focused on the television screen, and when she heard him and swung around, he saw how pale she was, and there was a worried expression in her dark eyes.
Hurrying toward her, he asked anxiously, “Darling, what is it?” What’s wrong?”
“I thought you probably hadn’t heard, Larry. The store’s been attacked. Two bombs exploded there this morning when I was having my meeting with Linnet. At around noon. In the Bird Cage—”
“Oh, my God, how horrendous!” he cut in, joining her in front of the television, putting his arm around her, drawing her close to him. “Lunchtime.” He groaned. “How many people have been killed?”
“It was closed. Fortunately, Lin had closed it because of a drainage problem, so it was empty. Even the plumbers had gone to lunch. But there were a number of casualties.” Turning off the set, taking hold of his hand, she explained everything as she led him toward the kitchen.
“Obviously Lin is going to be at the store for hours with Simon Baron and Scotland Yard. And the antiterrorism chaps. But I’ve asked her to come over for supper, and Simon, too. I hope you don’t mind. She needs me at a time like this.”
“Of course she does, darling, and I’m glad they’ve accepted. And thank God you’re both all right.”
“Yes. We are, although we’re bruised a bit. The blast threw us across the room. We were in Linnet’s office, and we could’ve had a few broken bones.”
Once they were in the kitchen, Larry realized M was making his favorite Bolognese sauce. Chopped beef, tomatoes, and onions were spread over the central island counter, and she had already taken out various bowls, pots, and pans. “I can see we’re in for a treat,” he said, sitting down on one of the tall stools, still feeling shaken by her news.
“It’s the easiest thing for me to make, and I had all the ingredients except for the meat.” As she returned to her work with the food, M went on. “The store will remain closed until tomorrow, late afternoon, or Friday. The bomb squad have to check the entire building just in case more explosives were planted on other floors.”
He stared at her, worried, shaking his head. “It’s unbelievable this has happened. There’s such enormous security at Harte’s.”
“Yes, I know. Scotland Yard believe it’s a terrorist attack, and Inspector Yardley told us they’d been expecting a hit on an important department store for a long time. Public places are very vulnerable, you know. Remember the 7/7 bombings two years ago? The public transport system was attacked during the morning rush hour, and the damage was horrible, so many hurt. Fifty-two people killed, and an additional seven hundred injured altogether.”
“I do remember it, M. I had a friend who was injured on that bus.”
“It’s extremists, I’m sure. And I have a theory. I think whoever did this hid in the store until it closed, planted the bombs, and then waited until the store opened the next morning in order to leave. I know that place inside out. I have since my childhood. Believe me, there are many corners to hide in without being spotted.”
Her cell suddenly rang, and M snatched it up off the counter. “Hullo?”
“It’s Lin,” her sister said. “A bit of news.”
“I’m listening,” M replied, pressing the phone closer to her ear. Once Linnet had finished, she said, “Thanks for letting me know, and we’ll see you tonight around eight-thirty then. Bye.”
Looking at Larry, M told him, “The police have found two unexploded bombs in another area of the Bird Cage. They didn’t go off, just fizzled and died. Thank God.”
Larry was aghast. “Thank God indeed. I hate to think of the carnage if four bombs had exploded.”
M gave him a knowing look, went to the stove, put the chopped onions in a pan with a little butter, and let them cook slowly over a low flame. Next she poured hot water on four large tomatoes so that the skins would drop off easily.
Larry continued to watch her, admiring not only the deft way she worked but her calmness and self-control after the explosion. She was a wonder.
At one moment he said, “I don’t know much about Simon Baron. Tell me about him, darling.”
“He’s Jack Figg’s nephew. Well, he’s not really. By that I mean he’s not actually a blood relative. Jack’s sister Sarah and her husband, Alistair, adopted Simon when he was a baby, maybe six months old or so. Jack’s close to him, and Simon worked for Figg International before taking over day-to-day security for the stores.” M let out a sigh, shook her head. “I wish Jack were here right now. He makes me feel safe.”
/> “Where is he?”
“He went to Hong Kong. Apparently he had business there. Even though he’s sort of semiretired, he goes in to the Knightsbridge store three days a week, and I know it makes Linnet happy to have him around. They’re as thick as thieves, those two.”
“Jack told me at the dinner your parents gave for us that Linnet’s Emma Harte reincarnated.”
“He should know; he worked for Grandy from the age of eighteen.” Changing the subject, she now asked, “How was lunch with your mother?”
“Fascinating.”
“Really? What did she want to talk to you about?”
“I was the one who wanted to talk to her, actually. By the way, she told me she adores you, and she’s thrilled we’re married.”
M smiled for the first time that day. “And so am I. What did you wish to discuss with your mother that was so important?”
“The vulnerability of the human heart.”
Part Three
WINNING THE GAME
April–August
2007
They laugh that win.
William Shakespeare,Othello
Winner takes all.
Anonymous
Thirty-seven
The meal had been an incomparable feast, and Jack Figg fully understood that it had been prepared especially to please him. One after another, sumptuous dishes elegantly arranged on platters were presented to him, then served with consummate skill. They were his favorites and the most delicious he had ever tasted . . . at least since he had been in this house several years ago.
Looking across the highly polished rosewood dining table at his host, Zhèng Wen Li, Jack said, “Thank you for this splendid treat, and my compliments to the chef. He has outdone himself tonight, and I feel most honored, Wen Li.”