Читать книгу Playing the Game - Barbara Taylor Bradford - Страница 9

Marius was happy. Annette could tell from the expression on his face. He was beaming, relaxed, leaning back in his chair at the head of the table positioned directly opposite hers. They faced each other, were in each other’s line of vision, could communicate, at least visually, whenever they wanted.

The party was a success. She knew that even though it was only halfway through. There had been a feeling of excitement right from the beginning of the evening. During the cocktail period, a trio played low music in the background, champagne and wine flowed, there was an open bar for other drinks, and an array of delicious canapés was passed around, nonstop, by the busy waiters.

Now, in the ballroom, she was feeling an enormous surge of energy and vitality amongst the guests. They were getting up to dance to the popular music, and she glanced around, noted the hilarity, heard the laughter and the high-voltage babble of conversation. It seemed to her that they were all enjoying themselves, having a great time.

Marius caught her eye and got up, walked over to her table. A moment later he was escorting her out on to the dance floor.

Taking her in his arms, he looked down at her and smiled, his black eyes warm, loving. ‘You’ve pulled it off again,’ he murmured. ‘It’s a fabulous party, everyone’s enjoying it immensely. Are you?’

They began to move around the edge of the dance floor. She cocked her head, looked up at him, an amused smile in her eyes. ‘You’ve always told me that a hostess who enjoys her own party isn’t being a good hostess.’

Marius burst out laughing. ‘Touché, Mrs Remmington. But in that instance, I was actually referring to parties given at one’s home. Not in a public place. So are you?’

‘As a matter of fact, I am. I was a bit uptight at first, when we came into the ballroom, but then I noticed that everyone quickly found their seats, looked happy where they were sitting; also they’d enjoyed themselves during cocktails so they were in the right frame of mind.’

‘Very true. Well oiled. I didn’t see one glum face. But I must admit I did see a lot of astonished faces when they began to realize they were in the middle of an orchid garden.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘The setting is a triumph, darling, you were inspired.’

‘I’m glad you like it,’ was all she said, and drew closer to him, following him as he moved smoothly away from the edge, across the floor to the middle of the room. He was a good dancer, easy to follow, and she found herself relaxing even more, enjoying dancing with him. Eventually she became aware all eyes were on them and she smiled inwardly. She was proud of Marius, proud to be married to him, and also, deep down inside, proud of herself, proud of her hugely successful auction. The Rembrandt had changed her life. And she was glad of that.

She didn’t stop dancing for the next half-hour. When she was back at her table, Malcolm came and claimed her, then David Oldfield, followed by Johnny Davenport, all pals of long standing who had worked for Marius, were part of the Marius Mafia. And then, unexpectedly, Christopher Delaware was tapping Johnny on the shoulder, cutting in. This surprised her. Christopher was rather shy, reticent, and certainly not given to bold moves.

They glided around the floor in silence for a moment or two, and then he said, ‘The room looks stunning, it reminds me of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, or rather, I should say, a scene from the play. It’s all this greyish green, I suppose, the misty feeling it creates, and the orchids … a forest of orchids … it’s magical, you created something truly unique. Oh, and what about the tall mirrored screens? Brilliant. How did you think of those?’

‘The Hall of Mirrors at Versailles sprang to mind, and thank you for your compliments. But tell me, if this is the play, where are Oberon and Titania, king and queen of the fairies? And Puck and Bottom? If this really were A Midsummer Night’s Dream, they would definitely be here, you know.’

He laughed. ‘They’re around somewhere, although I haven’t actually seen them yet. However, Lysander, Hermia and Demetrius are here and—’ Abruptly he stopped, cut himself off.

Annette stared at him, frowning, and then looked over his shoulder into the distance, wondering what he meant, although she believed she had a good idea.

Changing the subject swiftly, with a certain adroitness, Christopher said, ‘You are coming to Kent on Saturday, aren’t you? To make the final selections for the next auction?’

‘Of course I am, I would have told you otherwise. I think we’ll have the auction in New York, by the way. I’m certain a number of important collectors will be interested in some of the Impressionists – several museums as well. Possibly the Metropolitan.’

‘I’ve never been to New York!’ he exclaimed. He was suddenly excited. ‘I hope you’ll show me around when we’re there. When are you planning to do this? Have the auction, I mean? When would we go?’

‘That depends on you to a certain extent, Christopher. I think we must analyse everything on Saturday. First, you have to tell me which paintings you would be willing to put up for auction, then we have to study their condition, to ascertain whether they need cleaning or not, restoring, and new frames, that sort of thing, and I have to really focus on what’s happening in New York … other art auctions, gallery shows coming up, that kind of thing. I want this to be big. Bigger than the Rembrandt auction, actually.’

‘Oh, my God, that sounds fantastic.’ A pause. Then, ‘Will Marius be coming with us to New York?’

She stared at him again. Intently. She said, noncommittally, ‘I don’t know. He has his own art business, as you’re well aware, and I have mine. We’re quite separate entities. However, he might be there because of his own work.’ She shrugged. ‘I can’t say whether he’ll be in New York or not. Why?’

‘I just wondered,’ Christopher muttered, and held her a little more tightly, brought her closer, although she wasn’t too surprised by this. Vaguely, she had sensed he had a crush on her for some time now. She wasn’t troubled by it because she rarely saw him, and could handle it anyway. He was young, only twenty-three. But to bring up the love triangle between Lysander, Hermia and Demetrius, characters in a Shakespearean comedy, was somewhat pointed. Still, it amused her. ‘We’ll just play that by ear. If Marius does happen to be there, he’ll be helpful.’

‘Yes, yes, I understand,’ he said quickly, having picked up on something, she wasn’t exactly sure what. Her tone, perhaps?

Now it was her turn to change the subject. ‘What time do you want me to get there on Saturday?’

‘That’s up to you, Annette. Ten? Eleven? Whatever time you want to arrive is all right by me. I was hoping you would be able to stay to lunch.’ A blond brow lifted.

She smiled at him. ‘Lunch would be lovely, especially since I’m planning to be there all day. We’ve a lot of work to do.’

His face instantly brightened. He gazed at her. ‘Oh good, very good, and I’ll try and be as helpful as possible with the collection, decisive.’

She merely smiled at him again, made no further comment.

Annette had just returned to her seat at the table when Marius caught her eye. He glanced in the direction of the podium and nodded.

She understood what he meant immediately. He was going to go up there within a few minutes, say nice things about her and congratulate her. Once he was finished, she would thank him and invite Malcolm to join them, to come up and make the birthday toast.

After this, the birthday cake would be wheeled in, the orchestra would play ‘Happy Birthday', and Marius would cut the cake. The plan had been made yesterday and it was all very straightforward.

But she was taken aback when Marius rose almost immediately and headed in the direction of the band. A moment later, Malcolm was at her side, along with David Oldfield, and the three of them followed Marius, stood with him to one side of the band.

When the last song finished, there was a loud drum roll and everyone left the dance floor, went back to their tables. Another drum roll echoed as David walked over to the podium and picked up the mike. ‘Good evening, everyone, and welcome. Now, please don’t get worried. This is not going to be an hour of speeches. No, not at all. Neither Annette nor Marius wanted that. However, there will be a few words from Marius before he cuts his birthday cake.’

There was a round of applause when Marius stepped forward. He went to join David at the podium, who handed him the mike.

‘I want to thank you all for coming,’ Marius began. ‘I’m thrilled and flattered to see you all here tonight at my sixtieth … so many good friends and colleagues. But this is not simply a birthday party for me, but a celebration of Annette as well. The other day I decided it must be a double-headed event; I felt my wife should share it with me. Because I believe she deserves to be honoured … for conducting one of the greatest art auctions ever held. Her sale of the lost Rembrandt was extraordinary, and she is extraordinary. In every way … a wonderfully talented painter, an art consultant of enormous expertise, a dealer par excellence, and for a number of years my right hand when I still owned the Remmington Gallery. Altogether a unique woman.’

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.