Barbara Taylor Bradford - Remember

Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Previously published in paperback by Grafton 1992

Reprinted three times

Special overseas edition 1992

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 1991

REMEMBER. Copyright © Barbara Taylor Bradford 1991. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books

Barbara Taylor Bradford asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

This is a work of fiction. The situations and scenes described, other than historical events, are all imaginary. With the exception of well-known historical figures, none of the characters portrayed is based on real people, but were created from the imagination of the author. Any similarity, therefore, to those living or dead is purely coincidental.

ISBN 0 586 07036 2

Ebook Edition © JUNE 2011 ISBN 9780007396238

Version: 2017-11-14

This book is for my husband Robert,

who fights the good fight, with my

love and admiration.

Remember me when I am gone away,

Gone far away into the silent land;

When you can no more hold me by the hand,

Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.

Remember me when no more day by day

You tell me of our future that you plann’d:

Only remember me; you understand

It will be late to counsel then or pray.

Yet if you should forget me for a while

And afterwards remember, do not grieve:

For if the darkness and corruption leave

A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,

Better by far you should forget and smile

Than that you should remember and be sad.

Christina Rossetti

Cover

Title Page Barbara Taylor Bradford Remember

Copyright

Dedication

Epigraph

Part One Comrades-in-Arms

One

Sleep eluded her.

Two

It was a balmy night, almost sultry.

Three

Cleeland Donovan sat on one of the ledges encircling the…

Four

The killing began just after ten o’clock on Saturday night.

Five

Nicky was in and out of Tiananmen for the next…

Part Two Lovers

Six

It was Cézanne country, Van Gogh country, so Clee had…

Seven

The scream shattered her nightmare.

Eight

Clee stood staring at the dozen or so transparencies arranged…

Nine

It was drawing close to dusk when Clee finally left…

Ten

‘What Guillaume told you is true, Mademoiselle Nicky,’ Amelia said,…

Eleven

‘Think of it, Nicky, I was only four years old…

Twelve

She floated towards him in the water.

Thirteen

‘Eh voilà, Mademoiselle! Your American picnic,’ Clee said, placing the…

Fourteen

Holding hands, they walked slowly down the Cours Mirabeau, the…

Fifteen

Clee paused in the doorway of the library and leaned…

Sixteen

The interior of the restaurant was equally as eye-catching as…

Seventeen

‘This is one of the best scripts you’ve ever written,…

Eighteen

After lunch at the Four Seasons, Nicky went shopping at…

Part Three Conspirators

Nineteen

The house where Anne Devereaux lived was old, very old:…

Twenty

Nicky had not been in this house for almost three…

Twenty-One

Nicky sat in the window seat in her room, staring…

Twenty-Two

An hour later, at about seven o’clock, having changed from…

Twenty-Three

‘Anne, I’d like to talk to you about something,’ Nicky…

Twenty-Four

Nicky went for a walk through the grounds of Pullenbrook…

Twenty-Five

On Monday night Nicky caught the last flight to Rome.

Twenty-Six

After she had hung up, Nicky sat staring at the…

Twenty-Seven

That afternoon Nicky flew from Rome to Athens.

Twenty-Eight

It only occurred to Nicky that she really was being…

Twenty-Nine

The news about Yoyo had lifted Nicky’s spirits; it had…

Thirty

Javier opened the door of the apartment with his own…

Part Four Enemies and Friends

Thirty-One

It was that time of the year when Parisians have…

Thirty-Two

Nicky felt her mood changing the minute she opened the…

Thirty-Three

‘After Mai die in Xiehe Hospital I take her body…

Thirty-Four

Anne Devereaux had been on Nicky’s mind ever since Madrid,…

Thirty-Five

Like Pullenbrook, Anne’s flat in Eaton Square was beautiful, and…

Thirty-Six

Charles and Nicky stood facing each other in the living…

Thirty-Seven

The two women sat on the old stone bench at…

Acknowledgement

Dangerous to Know

Her Own Rules

The Women in his Life

About the Author

Other Books by Barbara Taylor Bradford

About the Publisher

A friend may well be reckoned

the masterpiece of Nature.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Sleep eluded her.

She lay in the darkness, trying to empty her head of every thought, troubling or otherwise, but this seemed to be an impossibility. Bone-tired though she had been earlier, when she had stripped off her clothes and fallen into bed, she was now wide-awake. All of her senses were alerted; she strained to catch any untoward sounds from outside. At this moment, though, very little noise penetrated the walls of the plush hotel suite. It was curious, ominous, the silence outside.

That’s where I should be, she thought. Outside.

Certainly that was where she belonged, where her heart and mind were. Outside … with her crew: Jimmy Trainer, her cameraman, Luke Michaels, her sound engineer, and Arch Leverson, her producer. They usually hung together most of the time, like any good news team on foreign assignment.

It was rare for her not to be with them, but tonight, over an early dinner, she had been so weary, her eyelids dropping after several nights with little or no sleep, that Arch had insisted she grab a few hours in bed. He had promised to wake her in plenty of time for her to prepare for her nightly broadcast to the States. Common sense plus fatigue had prevailed; she had agreed, only to find herself unable to relax and drop off the moment she was between the cool sheets.

She was tense, expectant, and she knew the reason why. Her intelligence, judgement and instinct, combined with her experience as a war correspondent, were all telling her the same thing. It was going to happen tonight. The crackdown that had been in the wind for days would be tonight.

Involuntarily, she shivered at this foreknowledge, turned cold. Blessed with a prescience that was unusual, she knew better than to doubt herself, and she shivered again at the thought of bloodshed. Blood would be spilled if the People’s Army moved against the people.

Pushing herself up against the pillows, she switched on the bedside lamp, glanced at her watch. It was a few minutes before ten. Throwing back the covers decisively, she got out of bed and hurried across the floor to the window. Opening it wide, she stepped out onto the balcony, anxious to see what, if anything, was happening in the streets of Beijing.