Barbara Taylor Bradford - Playing the Game

Marius paused, looked across at Annette, and said, ‘Come and join me, darling.’

She did so. Putting an arm around her, he said, ‘Congratulations, Annette, you really pulled off a big one, and have now entered the big league of art dealers.’ He laughed. ‘I suppose I could say you’re now one of my competitors. But why not? I love it, and I love you.’

A waiter brought glasses of champagne. ‘Here’s to you, Mrs Remmington,’ Marius toasted.

There was a burst of applause and Annette kissed him on his cheek, and then just stood there holding her glass, smiling, enjoying for a moment being in the limelight. And then unexpectedly she felt that small knot inside her stomach, and the lead pellet of anxiety lodged there once again. She managed to keep the smile on her face as she thanked the guests, thanked Marius once more for his lovely words, and then she introduced Malcolm Stevens.

Taking hold of Marius’s hand, she led him to one side so that Malcolm could take over. He was witty, clever, insightful, serious and cheeky by turn. He had everyone laughing within seconds as he drew a verbal portrait of a man he obviously admired and cared about, and whom he truly understood, and who would not be troubled by his irreverence.

The audience loved Malcolm and his words, and there was much laughter and applause, at times a few whistles, hoots and catcalls. Hilarity prevailed, as Malcolm had intended.

Marius loved Malcolm’s speech as much as everyone else, and he came over with Annette to stand with him when a waiter rolled in a table. Standing in the middle was a giant-sized birthday cake, and sixty candle flames fluttered on top of it as the waiter pushed the table across the ballroom.

Stepping forward, Marius picked up the cake knife, stared out at their guests, his face creased with laughter. He blew out all the candles and plunged the knife into the cake.

At this moment the orchestra began to play; every one of the occupants of the ballroom began to sing ‘Happy Birthday'. And all raised their glasses to him.

Annette joined in, but she suddenly felt her throat constricting. Thoughts of that phone call about Hilda Crump intruded. What was that about? That name from her youth was linked to trouble in Annette’s mind, and she shivered as her past loomed large. You never escaped your past, did you? Inevitably, it came back to haunt you. The past was immutable.

Annette went to see her sister on Friday morning. She usually spent part of Saturday with her, but this week she was going to Kent to make decisions about Christopher Delaware’s paintings and the auction of them.

Laurie was waiting for her, full of smiles and eagerness, happy to see her. As she usually was. There wasn’t a day when Laurie hadn’t welcomed her with a loving, wide-open heart and open arms, her pleasure at being with her reflected on her face. Laurie. The real beauty in the family with her green eyes and golden-red hair. Laurie, who had wanted to be an actress when she was a child and had been cheated of the chance.

The two of them sat together in front of the fire, in Laurie’s den in her flat in Chesham Place, just around the corner from their home in Eaton Square. It pleased Laurie that she and Marius lived nearby because it gave her a sense of security; Annette felt the same. If ever Laurie needed her urgently or in any kind of emergency, she could be there within minutes on foot.

Almost immediately she told her sister about the phone call from Malcolm Stevens earlier that week, and how he had brought up the name of Hilda Crump.

Laurie listened, her face calm, the expression in her intelligent eyes changing ever so slightly by the time Annette finished.

There was a small silence, and Annette realized Laurie was running everything through her mind in that analytical way she had. Finally Laurie said softly, ‘I hope you’re not worrying about this.’

‘I have been. Well, a little bit. It was such a jolt, hearing that name out of the blue, and I couldn’t help wondering who could possibly be looking for Hilda Crump.’

‘Yes. Who? Yes, indeed who? And also why? But listen, it doesn’t really matter. Hilda went away years ago, she’ll never be found, not unless you break the promise you made. You’re not going to do that, are you?’

‘No, I’m not. Obviously.’

‘We’ll never know who’s looking for her anyway, not unless the private detective informs Malcolm, and he then tells us. But whoever it is doesn’t matter. Hilda’s not available and we can’t give anybody any information.’

‘But we were so involved with her, we were privy to so much.’

‘Only you and I know that, and it happened long ago. Over twenty years, Annette. Believe me, it doesn’t matter.’

Annette leaned back in the chair, staring at her younger sister. ‘If that’s the case, all right.’

‘There’s no question in my mind. Just please stop worrying, because if you don’t I’ll start worrying about you.’ Laurie laughed. ‘Now, please tell me more about the party. On the phone you’ve been awfully sketchy. I’m longing to hear everything.’ Her eagerness was reflected in her eyes.

Annette said, ‘I wish you’d been there, enjoyed it with us, Laurie. I can’t understand why you were so adamant about not coming, and neither can Marius. He wanted you to be with us as much as I did.’

‘In this? In this wheelchair? Don’t be silly, I’d have been a useless encumbrance. An inconvenience.’

‘Don’t say that! You’re none of those things. We really did hope you’d change your mind, that you would join us, and you know I never lie to you.’

‘I’m sorry, don’t get upset. And I do know how sincere you were about my coming. But I see things differently to you at times, Annette. I didn’t want to be a burden. And look, I didn’t want you to have questions to answer later. About me. People asking you why I was in a wheelchair, et cetera, et cetera. All that nonsense. I’ve told you before, you don’t need a cripple hanging on to your apron strings—’

‘Don’t say that, you know how I hate you to say that!’ Annette exclaimed, her voice rising.

‘But I am a cripple, no two ways about it. I was in a bad car crash and now I’m a paraplegic.’

‘You’ve lost the use of your legs, yes, but you survived. The others died, and you’re still a beautiful woman. Intelligent, charming, and clever, and you are not an embarrassment to me. Nor to Marius. Besides, you’ve been with us on many occasions with friends and—’

‘Very close friends,’ Laurie interjected.

Annette continued, ‘And there’s never been any problem.’

‘That’s quite true. The birthday party was different, though, you’d invited two hundred people, and they’d all accepted. I knew it would be a heavy-duty evening for you.’

‘I would have put you at my table, or with Marius, and you know so many of our close friends, like Malcolm and David, Johnny Davenport. You’d have been perfectly fine.’

Laurie smiled. ‘I know. Don’t go on about it. Please. Look, I preferred not to come.’ Laurie made a face. ‘It would have been quite an effort for me, actually.’

‘Are you all right? You’re not feeling ill, are you?’

‘No, I’m not ill. Listen, it would have been a bit tough for me, that’s all, the crowds, lots of people I don’t know.’ She gave her sister another loving smile, her eyes reassuring. Laurie had not gone because she had not wanted to be a reminder of the bad days, not on this particularly special night in Annette’s life. But then a name from the past had done that. Unfortunately. Taking a deep breath, Laurie said, ‘Please tell me about the party. And don’t you dare miss out one detail.’