Barbara Taylor Bradford - To Be the Best

‘Yes, we most certainly are.’ Paula gave him a small, rueful smile. ‘Coming in from the airport I vowed I wouldn’t say anything about the children, and I’ve only been here a few minutes and already I’ve – ’

Shane gently placed his hand over her mouth. ‘ Sssh ! I know how much you wanted to see the kids before going away, and you shall.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, giving him a puzzled look.

‘Tonight and Saturday belong to us, and then on Sunday morning Kevin will fly us down to the Riviera to spend Sunday and Monday at the villa with the brood. You’ll have to go to New York one day later, that’s all. On Wednesday instead of Tuesday. Okay?’

‘Oh darling, yes, of course! What a marvellous idea and how lovely of you to think of it, to think of pleasing them as well as us,’ she exclaimed.

He grinned at her. ‘They’re my kids, too, you know.’

‘But you’ve been coping alone with them for the last two weeks and you must have had your fill of them by now.’

‘Only too true … in some ways. On the other hand, they’ve really been looking forward to seeing you, and I don’t want them to be disappointed, or you to think I’m an entirely selfish sod. So, I’m prepared to share you with our offspring … after all, you are going to be gone from us for five or six weeks.’

Paula gazed up to him, loving him. ‘Yes, I am …’ She paused, hesitated, then asked softly, almost tentatively, ‘How’s Patrick? Is he all right, Shane?’ A worried frown knotted her dark brows together and her clear blue eyes turned cloudy and apprehensive.

‘He’s wonderful, Paula, and as happy as a sandboy, enjoying every minute of the day and having lots of fun,’ Shane reassured her, his tone very positive. ‘Please, darling, don’t worry so much.’ He put his hand under her chin, tilted her face to his and added, ‘Patrick manages very well, really he does.’

‘I’m sorry, Shane, I know I fuss about him, but he’s such a little boy and so diffident … and different. And the others can be so boisterous at times, and I’m always afraid he’ll get hurt when he’s out of his usual environment …’

She let her sentence trail off, not wanting to express the thought that anything might ever happen to their first-born child. Patrick, who was seven, was slow, retarded, and she could not help being concerned about him when he was not under her sharp and watchful eyes.

Although Shane was equally protective of their son, he was constantly – if gently – chastising her for being overly anxious. Deep down, she knew Shane was right and so she tried very hard to control her anxiety, to treat Patrick as if he were perfectly normal, like his five-year-old sister, Linnet, and his half-brother and half-sister, Lorne and Tessa, the twelve-year-old twins fathered by Jim Fairley.

Shane, observing her carefully, fully understanding her complex feelings about Patrick, said with a confiding smile, ‘I haven’t mentioned this to you before, but Linnet’s become a real little mother while we’ve all been down at the villa. She’s taken Patrick under her very small but very loving wing and, actually, without you around, she’s even turned a bit bossy. And you know how Lorne is with Patrick … he adores him. So all is well, my darling, and –’ Shane broke off at the sound of knocking, exclaimed ‘Entrez ,’ and, moving away from Paula, he went hurrying to the door as it was being pushed open in response to his command.

A genial-looking porter came in carrying her garment bag and small suitcase, and Shane dealt with him briskly, showed him through into the bedroom, told him where to put the luggage and tipped him.

Once they were alone again, Shane strode over to the table, began to peel the metal paper off the champagne cork.

‘Listen,’ he said, ‘enough of the kids. They’re absolutely fine with Emily and Winston.’

‘Yes, of course they are, darling.’

A moment before, Paula’s thoughts had swung to their youngest child, and now she started to chuckle and her eyes crinkled up at the corners in amusement. ‘So Linnet’s true character has finally emerged, has it? I always suspected that that daughter of ours had inherited a bit of Emma’s imperiousness, that she also had the makings of a general in her.’

Shane glanced up, pulled a face, rolled his eyes heavenward. ‘Another general in the family! Oh my God, I don’t think I can stand it! Oh well, I suppose all of my women compensate for their bossiness by being so easy on the eye.’ Winking at her, he said, ‘And by the way, Emily sends her love. When I rang her earlier this evening, to tell her I’d side-tracked you to Paris, that we wouldn’t be at the villa until Sunday, she was tickled to death about our weekend alone together. She thought it was a smashing idea, and she says you’re not to be concerned about a thing. Now, how about a glass of this marvellous stuff, before we get ready for dinner?’

‘That’d be lovely, darling.’

Paula had seated herself on the sofa whilst he had been dealing with the porter, and she kicked off her shoes, curled her legs under her and sat back, watching him.

It did not matter whether they had been apart for four days or a fortnight, she was always a little startled when she saw Shane after an absence and overwhelmed by the sheer physical presence of him. It had much to do with the force of his personality – that extraordinary charisma he possessed – as well as his height and build and natural dark good looks. Sixteen years ago, at his twenty-fourth birthday party, Emma Harte had said that Shane O’Neill had an intense glamour, and this had never been more true than it was today. He was the most dazzling of men.

Shane had celebrated his fortieth birthday this past June: he was in his prime and looked it. He had a powerful physique with a broad back and massive shoulders, and he had stayed lithe and trim; his sojourn in the sun with the children had given him a deep tan. There was a touch of grey at his temples now, but, curiously, this did not age him. Rather, in combination with his bronzed complexion, the grey seemed to underscore the youthfulness of his strong and virile face. And in contrast to his hair, there was not a strand of grey in his moustache which was as coal black as it had always been.

I’ve known him all of my life and it’s never changed, this extraordinary feeling I have for him, Paula thought, continuing to quietly observe him. He’s the only man I’ve ever loved. The only man I will ever want … for the rest of my life … my husband, my lover, my closest friend.

‘Hey, Beanstalk,’ he said, using his childhood nickname for her as he walked across the room. ‘You’re a million miles away.’ He handed her the glass of champagne, sat down next to her on the sofa and gave her a quick quizzical glance.

‘Just daydreaming,’ she replied, clinking her glass to his when he held it out.

He leaned into her and fastened his eyes on her face. ‘Emma would’ve approved of this weekend of ours … she was a thorough-going romantic, just as I am.’

‘Yes, that’s very true.’

‘She was on my mind earlier today and for the obvious reasons,’ Shane went on, ‘and it suddenly struck me how quickly the time has passed since her death. It’s frightening, really, the way the years have sped by. It seems like only yesterday that she was ordering all of us around – ’

‘I was thinking exactly the same thing when I was at the cemetery this morning!’

Their eyes met. They exchanged slightly startled glances and then smiled knowingly at each other. This frequently happened, the shared thought when they were apart, or, when they were together, the sudden voicing by one of them of a sentiment that the other had been about to express.