Читать книгу Elements of Chance - Barbara Wilkins - Страница 15

10

Pedestrians hurrying down Park Lane in the driving rain fought the wind for their umbrellas. The denuded trees reached spidery black branches toward the gray sky. Tourists bundled up in furs and overcoats huddled in the entrances of all the grand hotels as doormen frantically whistled for taxis that never came.

Valerie felt chilled to the bone as she ran up the steps of the house in Green Street; her teeth chattered as she fumbled with her key in the door. Upstairs in her room, she took off her wet shoes and her stockings. After she had changed, she ran a comb through her hair and applied some pink lipstick, ready to join Lady Anne and her guest in the drawing room for a sherry before lunch. A man’s hearty laugh echoed along the winding staircase as Valerie walked down the stairs.

In the drawing room, Lady Anne sat across from her guest in front of the fireplace, a glass in her hand. The man who rose was tall, with intent brown eyes. His face was tanned, and he wore a well-cut dark suit. There was something familiar about him, something soft and mean, around his mouth. The Hollywood Bowl, a glowing half shell of light, flashed into Valerie’s mind. She recalled handing programs to a couple hurrying to their seats for the concert that night, and the tall man sauntering after them who had stopped to speak to her in a low insinuating voice.

“Valerie,” Lady Anne was saying, “may I present Monsieur Claude Vilgran. He’s just back from Palm Beach, the lucky man. And this is my niece from America, Claude. Valerie Hemion.”

“How do you do,” Valerie stuttered, almost recoiling as she felt his dry hand engulfing hers, his appraising eyes fastened on her own.

“You’re a very pretty girl,” he said, and as she snatched her hand away, Valerie wondered if he remembered saying that to her before. “I understand you’re a brilliant pianist,” he continued. “Your aunt tells me you’ve won a scholarship to the conservatory.”

“Let’s all sit down and finish our sherry,” suggested Lady Anne. “I’ll ring for Janet to bring you something warm to drink, dear.”

“Yes,” said Valerie, averting her eyes from his gaze, which seemed locked on her face. “I’m preparing for the Van Cliburn Competition. It’s in Paris this year. In March.”

“Oh, yes,” he said thoughtfully. “I have a friend who is one of the great concert pianists of the world. Maria Obolensko. She won that competition. It was the beginning of her career.”

“She lives near here, doesn’t she, Claude?” asked Lady Anne.

“In Eaton Square,” he said in his perfect English that hinted at somewhere foreign. France, Valerie knew now. Monsieur Claude Vilgran. “She’s on tour at the moment,” he continued. “Berlin. Rome. Vienna. She leads quite an exciting life.”

“Your life is quite exciting too,” said Lady Anne.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he laughed.

“Claude is too modest,” Lady Anne said to Valerie. “He roams the world collecting beautiful things. Paintings, tapestries, furniture, objets d’art. Anything at all as long as it’s perfect.”

Valerie thought about that as they went in to lunch. Either he was very, very rich, or he was an art dealer, in which case he was just rich. She didn’t dare to ask.

At the dining room table, Valerie saw that even though Lady Anne was smiling and animated, her face looked tense. She seemed to be uneasy with Monsieur Vilgran too.

“I suppose Lady Anne has been showing you around,” he said to Valerie.

“Oh, yes,” Valerie said, squirming under his gaze. “She’s been wonderful.”

“You must find it very different from Los Angeles,” he said. “When I first started to go there, Wilshire Boulevard was mainly vacant lots. There was nothing. Now you have skyscrapers, the new museum. The Music Center downtown. There’s some magnificent art, too. The first truly American city, really. I have several good friends there, in Beverly Hills and Bel-Air.”

“The Talbots,” blurted Valerie.

“Why yes,” Claude said, looking at her with amazement. “How would you know that?”

“I saw you with them,” Valerie said. “At the Hollywood Bowl. I was ushering there.”

“But how could you possibly remember me?”

“You spoke to me.”

“Oh, no,” he laughed. “If I had spoken to you, I would never have forgotten you. I could never forget a girl as pretty as you are.”

Valerie saw the corners of Lady Anne’s mouth tighten at his words, felt her own discomfort at his eyes that never left her face, that seemed to bore into her soul.

Later, she stood beside Lady Anne in the entry hall as they said good-bye to Claude. Janet helped him on with his black overcoat, brought him his bowler and his umbrella.

“Good-bye,” Claude said as he took Lady Anne’s hand and brought it to his lips. “It’s always wonderful to see you, my dear.” As he turned to say good-bye to Valerie, he added, “I don’t know when Maria returns to London. She always calls me, though, as soon as she gets over her jet lag. I can introduce you, if you like. Perhaps you can play for her.”

When the door had closed behind him, it seemed to Valerie that Lady Anne was as relieved as she was to have him gone.

“Why don’t you come up to my suite with me for a moment, dear,” Lady Anne said, a distracted look on her face.

Valerie took her place on a chintz-covered love seat across from Lady Anne and waited for her to begin. “When you made luncheon plans for today,” Lady Anne said, “did you think about your classes this afternoon?”

“I guess I forgot,” Valerie admitted, flushing.

“My dear, I know girls your age are starting to be interested in boys,” Lady Anne said, her voice weary. “It’s natural for you to want to go to lunch with a boy, or even a girlfriend your age. But you’re an artist, Valerie, and all of your time has to be devoted to just one thing. Your career.”

“Well, Julian—he’s the boy I was going to have lunch with—he’s an artist too,” she mumbled. “He’s been performing since he was five years old. He’s going to be a guest soloist with the London Philharmonic in a few weeks. He has time for lunch. We were going to talk about working on a duet. For fun.”

Valerie felt her stomach muscles tighten as Lady Anne looked into the fireplace. It was as if she thought she might find the words she wanted to say written in the dancing flames.

“Let me put it this way,” she finally began in a gentle voice. “You’re a brilliant talent with a great career ahead of you. But talent is only a part of it, don’t you see? You have to be able to handle yourself, my dear, in the very best circles. You have to be able to hold your own when the people around you are talking about paintings, or where they’ve been on holiday. Whatever they’re talking about.” Lady Anne paused and smiled at Valerie, begging comprehension. “I know how much you love your parents,” she continued. “But with their backgrounds, they couldn’t possibly give you the social graces you’re going to need. I feel it is my responsibility to help you, to teach you.”

How could somebody who was so good to her also make her feel so small? Valerie wondered. It wasn’t fair. She fought hard to keep back the tears.

“Do you see my point, dear?” asked Lady Anne. “Do you see why it’s to your advantage to make some sacrifices at this time in your life?”

At Valerie’s nod, Lady Anne glanced at the ornate clock standing on the mantelpiece. “I see we’ve kept your French teacher waiting,” she noticed. “Why don’t you run along, Valerie. I’m dining out this evening, but we’ll be able to chat tomorrow morning.”

Lady Anne’s voice stopped Valerie just as she put her hand on the handle to open the door of the suite. She turned to look back at her.

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, dear. I just thought it would be a good idea if you understood what we’re all trying to do for you. It’s for your own good, Valerie. You’ll be thankful when you’re older.”

Valerie just looked at her for an instant before she rushed out.

Later that week, Lady Anne herself opened the door when Valerie returned from the conservatory. In her hand she held a stack of mail.

“I met the postman coming in,” she said, brushing Valerie’s cheek with her own. “All bills, except for this one.” She held out to Valerie a letter she had sent to her parents two weeks earlier. “It’s been returned. Is the address wrong?”

Valerie saw that the address was right. Al and Vicki must have pulled their usual trick, moving in the middle of the night when they were behind in the rent, leaving no forwarding address.

“They must have moved,” she said.

“But wouldn’t they have told you?” Lady Anne asked, her eyes worried. “Shouldn’t we phone?”

“Oh, I’ll hear from my mom when they’re settled,” Valerie said.

A week later when she still hadn’t heard from Vicki, Valerie asked Lady Anne if it would be all right if she tried to call them. All she managed to reach was a recording telling her the number was no longer in service. Confused and frightened now, she dialed Max Perlstein’s number.

“Well, hi, kiddo,” Max said when he heard her voice. “How’s my little genius?”

“I’m fine, Max,” she said. “I really miss Los Angeles. I miss you, too. I can’t wait to come home.”

“Well, your letters sound as if you’re doing okay,” he said, and Valerie could almost see him grinning. “Limousines and fancy houses. Studying with Leon Stern for the Van Cliburn Competition. I wouldn’t have let you go for the Van Cliburn for another couple of years.”

Valerie sensed Max waiting for her to get to the point.

“What’s wrong, Valerie?” he said at last.

“I can’t find my mom and dad,” she said, beginning to cry. “They’ve moved, and their number is disconnected.”

“Well, they’ve moved before,” he said, his voice kind. “It’s probably just the mail, kid. But look, let me see what I can do. I’ll check it out. If you hear anything, you call me right away.”

“Okay, Max,” she said, stifling her sobs. If anybody could find them, Valerie thought with relief as she hung up the phone, Max would be the one. He had sounded so glad to hear from her. She wished she were back in Los Angeles with all its sunshine, with her parents and friends, instead of in this house in cold and gloomy London where it rained all the time.

The call from Max came a couple of afternoons later just as Valerie was sitting down to tea with Lady Anne in the drawing room. She caught Lady Anne’s eye for an instant and saw her concern before she hurried from the room to answer Janet’s summons. She was panting by the time she picked up the extension in the library and heard Max’s voice.

“Kiddo, I don’t know how to tell you this. I called every one of Al’s clients, but nobody knows a thing. I called the places where Al tended bar. No one’s heard from him either. I stopped by the beauty salon on Sunset Strip where Vicki worked, and talked to the owner, the other employees, some of Vicki’s clients. Nobody has seen or heard from her.

“I asked them how she had seemed the last time they saw her, which was about a month ago,” he said. “They said she was just the same, bragging about you in London, talking about Al’s business opportunities.

“I checked the police, the hospitals, the morgue, even the animal shelter to ask if they’d seen an apricot poodle that fit Muffin’s description. I ran Al’s name and address and a description of his car through a friend who works at the Department of Motor Vehicles. The Cadillac was repossessed a couple of months ago.”

With a sinking feeling, Valerie knew why the Cadillac had been repossessed, knew why they had moved. The money they had spent to get her to England had wiped them out. It was her fault, pure and simple.

“Are you okay, kiddo?” he asked. “Do you need anything? Can I send you some money?”

“I’m fine,” she whispered into the receiver.

“You know how flaky Al is,” said Max in an unnaturally hearty voice. “Don’t worry too much about it. You’ll hear from them.”

When she went back to the drawing room, Lady Anne was pacing back and forth, wringing her hands. When she saw Valerie in the doorway, she stood still.

Valerie just shook her head.

“Two people can’t just disappear from the face of the earth,” Lady Anne said tensely, one pale hand at her throat. “What could have become of them?”

“I don’t know,” Valerie sobbed, her whole body heaving. “I don’t know.”