Echoes in Eternity
What We Do in Life …
Savile Row – Part Two
by
Reagan Kavanagh and
Diana Walker
This
work of adult fiction, loosely based on
characters portrayed by Russell Crowe, includes adult language and
experiences;
you have been warned. No
copyright
infringement on the original work is intended.
© Reagan Kavanagh and Diana Walker 2006.
TERRY
I picked up the phone and dialled the number that’s not changed in 15 years.
“Nigel Groome here.”
“Nigel, Terry Thorne.”
“Terry, me old mate! How are you?”
“Very well, and I’m in London. Max and I are having new suits done; Reagan is with Max …and I’ve brought Diana along. I’d very much like for you and Amanda to meet her whilst we’re here. Are you free for dinner anytime over the next few days?”
“We’d be delighted to join you for dinner. Just let me check with Amanda and see what’s on the calendar. Hold for a tic.”
I heard him calling Amanda and their hurried consult over the calendar. Amanda picked up the phone to set the date.
“Terry! We’re free tonight and the next two. Which would be most convenient for you?”
“How about tomorrow evening? We’re at Claridge’s …why don’t you come here? We’ll have drinks then go to dinner. About seven?”
“That will be lovely, Terry. Give our best to Max and Reagan, and we’re so looking forward to meeting Diana. See you then!” She rang off. I put down the phone and sat pondering. Amanda’s words about looking forward to meeting Diana sounded exactly the same as what Marjorie had said on several different occasions when meeting the new love of an old friend …an old friend with whose former wife she had been cordial. The difference in Amanda and Marjorie is that Amanda very likely meant precisely what she said; Marjorie sharpened the knives. I sighed and prayed it would go well. At least if Diana and Amanda hated each other on sight, we’d not have to worry with polite civility on seeing each other constantly as was necessary on an Army post. Best go tell the others we had a dinner engagement tomorrow night.
AMANDA GROOME
It would wonderful to see Terry and the Espans again, and I was truly looking forward to meeting his Diana. Unbeknownst to Terry, Nigel had overheard a phone call he’d made to her on one of the nights they stayed with us. Terry had walked into the library, and Nigel followed for a bit of a chat with his brother-in-arms, just reaching the door in time to hear Terry say, “Diana, Lady, it’s Terry. I miss you.”
Of course it’s dreadful to listen in on another’s private conversation, but Nigel was as curious about this new woman in Terry’s life as I. He’d told me about doing so as we slipped into bed that night.
“Terry called Diana this evening.”
“Really? I hope you gave him a bit of privacy.”
“He was going to the library, and I followed him. I didn’t realise he was making a call until I got to the door and heard him speak her name. I should have walked away, but I need the comfort of knowing that she’s a good person.”
“Lord knows, whatever she is, she could scarcely be worse than Marjorie. And yes, you should have walked away …what did you hear?” He’d laughed at my ravening curiosity before answering.
“From the tone in his voice, I’d say he’s over the moon for her. Of course, I could only hear his side of the conversation, but from his tone, I rather think her words were equally endearing. He clearly misses her a great deal.”
“Thank the Lord! It’s about time he hooked up with someone who cares for him rather than just servicing him to get back at her father.”
“Amanda! I’m shocked.”
“No, you aren’t. We long since discussed the fact that we knew that’s precisely what Marjorie was doing.”
Nigel was wearing a new suit, and I was dressing carefully. If – as I hoped – Diana and I would become friends, I wanted to make a good first impression. I’d chosen my good black dinner suit and pearls.
We’d be meeting them in their suite at Claridge’s. I truly can read Terry Thorne like a book. He wanted us to meet Diana on his turf as that allowed him to control the timing. If Diana and I hated each other on sight, we’d leave early for the restaurant. If things improved over dinner, we’d be invited back to the suite for a nightcap. If the mood didn’t change or worsened, we’d say good night at the entrance to Claridge’s. I knew precisely what his words would be, as I’d been schooled on them by the Commandant’s wife at Nigel’s first posting.
“It was good seeing you again, and thanks for making the trip into the city. See you soon.”
I also knew Terry well enough to know that if it didn’t go well, he’d retain our friendship, but we’d not see Diana again. Further, he would mention her only if Nigel or I brought her name into the conversation. That’s what he’d done with Barbara, the woman with whom he’d had a brief fling shortly following his divorce from Marjorie. He was at such loose ends after the divorce that he was looking to remarry as soon as possible. Fortunately, he saw through Barbara quickly enough. Terry was the means to an end for her; she hated being a divorcée. She could have given a toss about being the loving and supportive wife of a man like Terry Thorne.
Max and Reagan opened the door. It was wonderful to see them again and to note that Reagan was expecting. We exchanged kisses before they took us to the lounge where Terry was waiting with Diana. I’m so very fond of Reagan that I fully anticipated liking the woman I knew to be her dearest friend. I had to stop myself from catching my breath when Terry introduced us.
“Diana, I’d like you meet two people who are very dear to me, Nigel and Amanda Groome. This is Diana Walker.” I’d never seen Terry look at Marjorie with the fierce look of pride, passion, joy, and love that crossed his face as he watched Diana during our introductions. I took the hand she graciously extended, forcing myself to drag my eyes away from the huge blue topaz hanging from round her neck by a thin silver chain.
When Terry had stayed with us after Marjorie filed for divorce, I’d seen him take it from his pocket each evening on returning to our flat and had asked him about it. His response had been simple but eloquent.
“It was my grandmum’s. She gave it to me shortly before she died. I promised her the only woman who would ever wear it would the one woman I knew I could spend the rest of my life with; Marjorie’s never even seen it.”
Diana’s handshake was cool and firm and every bit that of a lady …precisely what I wanted for Terry’s lady to be in public. Her voice was low and well modulated.
“It’s wonderful to meet you. I’ve heard so much about both of you from Max and Reagan, not to mention Terry. He’s told me how you took him in after his and Marjorie’s separation and divorce. Though I didn’t know him then, I’d like to thank you for being there when he most needed you.”
Oh, yes, public Diana’s going to suit very well, and private Diana seems to have gotten to the man behind the masque. Terry caught my satisfied smile and stepped up.
“Nigel? Your usual, or would you prefer something stronger? Amanda?”
“Beer would be fine for me …Amanda?”
“Perhaps a bit of sherry? I know it’s more an after dinner drink, but I feel I’m amongst friends and can bend the social rules a bit.”
Terry joined Nigel in the beer, but I noted he poured his into two glasses and gave one to Diana. He got a scotch for Max and orange juice for Reagan, and we all settled in for a bit of a chat. We toasted all round, and I spoke to Reagan, hoping to give Diana a bit of ease from what I know she must have felt to be an intense scrutiny. We all knew she was here for the friends’ stamp of approval.
“Reagan, I’m delighted to see you and Max are expecting. May I ask when you’re due?” She smiled as Max’s arm went round her shoulders.
“Mid-December, just before Christmas, and we’re counting the days.”
“Girl or boy?”
“We don’t know and don’t want to. We’re just going to be happy with whichever the baby is and grateful for a healthy child.”
“Definitely the right attitude in my book!” I turned back to Diana.
“Diana, Terry tells me you event. What sort of horse do you prefer?”
“I’d like one that could get me around Badminton or Burghley, but I don’t think Jack’s the mount for that. He’s a Quarter Horse, very safe and very sturdy.”
“How lovely! I used to ride as well before the children came along. Having four youngsters isn’t conducive to my riding any longer, so now I’m a ‘pony club mum’ for one of our girls.” Since Diana events, she’s not the haughty ice-queen sort that Marjorie was. She’s had sufficient manure on her boots and done more horse nursing than she’d care to recall. She’s down-to-earth and will be wonderful for Terry as long as her sense of humour remains intact.
“Actually, I think I’m becoming a pony club surrogate mum.” She looked at Terry, and they both laughed.
“We gave a pony to the daughter of the firm’s office manager, and I’m teaching both Dolores and Terry to ride. Truthfully, I’m only helping school them. I have them with my riding coach, and Alice is a far better teacher than I’m ever going to be. Did Terry tell you he has his own horse now?” I smiled.
“I’m glad someone’s teaching Terry to ride. The time or two he rode with Nigel and me, I felt truly sorry for him. He must have been sore for days after the way he bounced round in the saddle. Of course, I did feel sorrier for the poor horse …liniment baths for a week on the poor beast. And Diana, it takes a good horsewoman to know that she may not be the best instructor. I commend you for that.”
“Terry never told me about riding with you two …tell me more.” Terry feigned a wince and laughed.
“We hill-topped with a hunt. Fortunately for both Terry and the horse, it was a one-time thing. I do miss the hunt; it would have been lovely to have you over to ride to hounds with us during the season.”
“I’d have enjoyed that, Amanda.” The light in Terry’s eyes was unmistakable, and I wondered what he was thinking. It was the same light I’d seen before the perfect gift arrived for one of the children.
We chatted on for more than an hour. Terry finally looked at his watch.
“We need to leave within five minutes, else we’ll be late for our reservation.” Nigel’s belly must have forced him to ask the question.
“Where are we having dinner?”
“Downstairs …the Gordon Ramsay. I hope that suits you. I think Diana would have preferred a pub, but as you and I did that as young officers, I wanted something a bit more elegant. We’ve come a long way, Nigel. We can do better these days than pub-grub.” Nigel patted his expanding middle; the man has become quite portly over the years.
“Couldn’t have chosen better myself.” We were downstairs perfectly in time for our half-eight reservation.
REAGAN
I knew Dee had been nervous about meeting Nigel and Amanda; I also knew she had no need for concern. Nigel and Amanda may be English gentry, but they’re also as easy going and nice a couple as I’d ever met. Dee wanted to make the ‘right’ impression on the couple she knew were Terry’s oldest friends, and she knew they had known Marjorie.
It’s always a bit intimidating to be the new woman in a man’s life when you meet people who knew him and his former wife. I knew Terry would have told her that the Groome’s hadn’t been all that fond of Marjorie – they’d have been too nice to ever say so and would have treated Marjorie with all due deference as Terry’s wife – but he’s no fool. He reads people better than anyone I’ve ever known aside from Max. I wouldn’t care to try putting anything past either of those two men.
Amanda liked Dee on sight, and it was clear that Dee liked her. Once that was established, everyone relaxed, and we had a wonderful evening. I did miss being able to join everyone in cocktails and wine with dinner followed by cognac and sherry with our coffee, but this baby is more than worth that small sacrifice. Even when he or she is born, I won’t drink again until the breast-feeding is behind me. Don’t want a tipsy baby, now do we?
We returned to the suite for after-dinner drinks and visited until almost one in the morning. Nigel finally responded to Amanda’s hints that they should be going. The one that finally got him on his feet was her pointed comment about an expectant mother needing her rest. The four of us saw them to the door and said good night. It had been a wonderful evening, and it was clear that Dee and the Groomes were going to get on very well.
I can’t say that it’s usual for me to be restless during pregnancy as I’ve never carried a baby this long, but I do know that it’s common for many women. This seemed to be my night to be sleepless whether from the baby’s nocturnal somersaults, my normal odd sleep patterns, or a combination of the two.
I slipped out of bed just after three and tugged on my robe before leaving the bedroom with a closed door and made my way to the lounge. I flipped on a lamp and picked up the most recent copy of The English Home. I’d been flipping through pages of houses with those beautifully manicured gardens for about five minutes when I heard the door to Terry and Dee's room open and then close softly. I looked up to see Dee padding quietly toward me. She sat in a chair across from my position on the couch and grinned.
“I think the evening went well.”
“I believe Nigel and Amanda are about as far into your corner as it’s possible to be. I know from the first time I met Amanda that there was no love lost between she and Marjorie. She was nice enough never to say so to Terry, but she didn’t hesitate when we talked. I think you’re home free.”
“You really think so? I don’t usually care all that much whether someone likes me or not, but it’s different with them. They’ve been so close to Terry for so long.”
“Dee, the hugs and kisses Amanda and Nigel gave you when they left were genuine. I know you hate it when I say this, but trust me on this one, would you?” She nodded slowly, wanting to believe me, but she wasn’t entirely there.
“How much has Terry told you about Marjorie?” She tilted her head to the side as she considered that one.
“Not a lot, really. I know all the particulars, but none of the deep feelings; he’s never really wanted to go there. I’ve had to surmise their marriage followed a similar pattern as most young, failed marriages – wildly in lust mistaken for love followed by the bitter divorce. Marjorie was barely 18 when they met; he was 22. They met in a pub, and he thought she was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. They had stand-up sex against a wall behind the pub – they were both blind drunk, according to him – and he saw her every night as long as he was in London that time. I think it was about two weeks. He was back a month later and called her. She was living on campus – she was attending City of Westminster College – and he picked her up that Friday evening. They spent the weekend together.
“He said she seemed not as wild or carefree that time as when he’d first met her but wrote it off to it possibly being the first time she’d ever spent two nights in a hotel with a man. He was back in London again three weeks after that and called her. She said she’d meet him at the pub where they met. When he arrived she was already there and in a booth waiting for him. Her first words were ‘I’m pregnant.’ He was stunned.
“She’d been so hot-to-trot that it never occurred to him that she wasn’t on the pill, so he hadn’t bothered with frangers …that was before AIDS slapped all of us in the face. That was also when he found out that her dad was his commanding general. For Terry, there was no question about marrying her whoever her father. She took him home the next day, and he told her dad they were getting married. Can you imagine the courage that took? His career could have been over then and there. The only issue was whether Mr. and Mrs. General wanted a Church wedding or one at the Registry Office. That was the only option he gave them. Mrs. General opted for the former.
“Terry never told them Marjorie was pregnant, but if a Church wedding was on the horizon, it had better be soon. He was leaving on deployment in two months and wanted the rings on their fingers before he left. They got married, and it was apparently pretty much downhill from there. It took him a while to realize that getting pregnant and marrying a wild Colonial boy had been Marjorie’s way of getting back at her dad’s authoritarianism.”
Wow. No wonder Terry had spent the years between Marjorie and Dee with women like Miranda. At least with the Mirandas of this world, he always knew the lay of the land.
“That’s pretty much what Amanda told me when we met. Even though she wasn’t a member of the wedding party – Nigel was Terry’s best man – Marjorie spilt her guts to Amanda a couple of days before the wedding. Amanda figured she was chosen because she wasn’t part of Marjorie’s ‘social set’ and wouldn’t tell everyone in town. She was right.
“The two women established a cordial relationship because Terry and Nigel were so close. Whenever both men were in town, the couples spent time together. Amanda and Nigel were at hospital with Marjorie – and the General and his wife – when Henry was born; Terry was on deployment. Marjorie was furious at both her father and Terry for Terry’s not being present and blamed both of them. In truth and from what Amanda’s told me, I do think Marjorie loved Terry. The problem was that he was as devoted to duty as her father, and she hated that. She chose to rebel with a carbon copy of her father; ironic, isn’t it? Their marriage was doomed from day one.”
We sat silently, thinking over the realities of Terry’s marriage and its ongoing impact on his life. A few minutes later we both went back to bed. As I snuggled into the warmth that is Max, I thanked God there wasn’t a Marjorie in his past.
“Terry, I do not need jackets cut to fit over my Kevlars. I haven’t gotten a single call since Argentina, and I doubt I’m going to. It’s an unnecessary expense.”
We were enjoying the time in London out of our normal, busy lives. Since we didn’t have to be at the tailor’s until ten, we were having an unusual morning chat before we got out of bed. He’d been toying idly with Gran and the boob below it when the conversation started.
“What happened on that job? From what you told me, you completed it successfully. There’s no reason for Capt. Bigelow to have shut you out so completely.”
“Capt. Bigelow,” I was using the same hateful tone in speaking his name that Günter had once elicited, “and I had a few heated words over some personnel choices I didn’t feel appropriate for my participation.”
Terry’s fingers came to my face to smooth the tightness in my jaw. “Conflict of interest?”
“Yes. I stayed out of the selection discussions, but the actual operation was still full of possibilities no matter which firm was chosen. I think I scared Dino during the little training time we had.”
He smiled at the thought of me in Dino’s face again; that hadn’t happened since we’d first met. “How heated was your discussion with Biggie?”
Terry had always referred to my ex-boss as Captain Bigelow; using my casual name for him told me Terry had lost all respect for him.
“Let’s see. I remember my face flaming, the pressure on my hands leaning on his desk, and going nose to nose with him. I think he had to lean closer to me to hear my words about the memo to Webb. I don’t think I swore at him when I threatened to quit.”
Terry lifted his chin and let it drop. “Poor bugger. He doesn’t know how close he came to dying. I’m proud of you, and he’s a fool for putting you in that position. You did warn him early on. Diana, you WILL be called again. Biggie will be retiring at some time. It may be a while, but you need to be prepared. There is also the small matter of my line of work.”
“One lightweight, black wool then. I have enough other suits, Terry.”
“Yes, you do …but they’re out of fashion. They’re left over from your corporate years, and styles have changed. Diana, please, do it for me. I want to see you turned out a treat.”
Why does he have to be so earnest? His entreaty stung a little though what he said had some truth to it. I had bought classic suits while I’d been working full time; they were neither out of style nor threadbare, though perhaps they didn’t have the flair of more current fashion.
Of the two of us, he would always be the clothes horse; I was more interested in the newest fashion in horse blankets. I’d bought more new clothes since knowing him than I had in the prior five years. I couldn’t show up for one of our social engagements in the same dress twice; it would send the wrong message about the health of TEO’s business. I’d bought more skirts and little tank tops to wear around the house just so I could look more feminine for him. Prior to meeting Terry, my idea of a fashion spree was new Levis and t-shirts.
Was he tiring of my look? That was the question I was willing to consider.
My deep breath released through my mouth kept me from having tears spring from my eyes and fears of losing him clutch at my guts. Visions of Miranda’s designer clothes and the society mavens’ flashy dresses came immediately to mind, and their blatant come-ons to him flashed on my internal movie screen.
“Boomer, you want to expand on that thought a little or rephrase that some?” I was so proud of myself that I hadn’t lashed out at him or retreated.
“I want to give you the world.” He took my face in his hands. “The new truck and trailer were a start. Jewels don’t really fit with our lifestyle so they’re out. I can replace your older suits.”
“Define replace.”
That had thrown him. His eyebrows danced with confusion.
“Replace? Substitute an approximate replica of an existing object?”
“Do you want me to change my look? Am I too predictable?”
The light of recognition began dawning in his eyes. “Christ, no, Lady. Never. I’m NOT trying to change you.” His kisses to my eyes and cheeks put my fears to rest. “I rather fancy peeling you out of your jeans.”
MAXIMUS
“Are you sure you can walk so far?”
“Max, it’s less than half-a-mile. If I can’t walk that far, just shoot me now.”
“I ask only because I do not want you to become overly fatigued.”
“Walking a grand total of less than a mile isn’t going to fatigue me.”
“As you wish.” She sighed and rolled her eyes at me, much in the same manner as Scarto and Argento were wont to do when I had annoyed them. We would be walking from our hotel to Anderson and Sheppard, the tailors Terry and I had patronised for years. We had spoken with Cedric – our tailor – and he would be most willing to accommodate both Diana and Cassandra in this visit. We left the hotel 20 minutes later.
Cassandra and Diana lagged a bit behind Terry and myself, and we soon became aware of those we met on the street laughing as they looked just past us. Terry glanced over his shoulder and sniggered. I followed his glance and stopped in my tracks.
They were walking in a most strange manner. From a dead stop, both women took an exaggerated step forward, bringing their right knees high in a military fashion, put that leg down, whirled 360 degrees, took two steps forward and one back before enacting the sequence again. I looked at Terry who was struggling with his effort not to laugh. His strangled commentary brought further questions.
“John Cleese …Minister of Funny Walks. Monty Python films. It’s a long story.” Indeed. “If we speed it up a bit, no one will know they’re with us.” I dared not look back again. Fortunately, they had resumed their normal gaits by the time we reached Anderson and Sheppard.
Cedric was waiting when we entered the shop.
“Mr. Thorne, Mr. Espan, it’s so good to see each of you again. I’ve engaged Cecily to assist your ladies. Shall we get to it?”
Introductions were made, and we dispersed to the gentlemen’s and ladies’ fitting rooms. Given Cassandra and Diana’s high spirits on the walk to the shop, I pitied Cecily. Cedric smiled as he compared our current measurements to those taken for our last fittings.
“It seems both of you have been eating well since your last visit. The introduction of a lady into a man’s life often results in his requiring an increase in the waist of his pants.” Yes …I had loosened the notch on my belt some time past though that did not alleviate the snugness of the waistband of my slacks. Terry’s chagrined look said the same was true for him.
Forty-five minutes later, we all met again in the fabrics room. Diana was apparently seeking something as she went from one bolt of fabric to the next, though she seemed not to find what she sought. My wife finally stopped her, speaking softly.
“Dee, stop looking for the prices on the fabrics. They aren’t there. Cedric and Cecily will help us select fabrics appropriate to styles. Your usual parsimony isn’t relevant here.”
“So I’m going to have to do this again in three years because some people in the room will have decided what I had made now isn’t in style any longer.”
“That’s right …and hopefully, I’ll be between pregnancies then so I can have real clothes done.” Cecily patted my wife on the arm.
“Don’t worry about timing, Mrs. Espan. We make at least one trip to the States each year; you can catch us on one of those trips.” I could not but smile at my wife’s implication of children beyond the one now lying beneath her breast.
At the end of the day both Terry and I had ordered six suits, Diana three, and Cassandra three. The maternity panel in the belly of the skirts and slacks would enable her to wear her new suits at any stage of this or any subsequent pregnancy.
Diana would also have a new riding jacket as a gift from Terry for the next eventing season. Terry had a most difficult choice with the lining but finally settled on red satin after our whispered consultation. Diana’s form over fences deserves an upgrade from the basic black which disguises poor equitation.
Prior to leaving the tailors’, Diana had persuaded Terry to have new shirts made in colours other than his usual blue or white; a blue pinstripe was included. Cassandra sought to spice up – her term – my own colour scheme with a shirt of deep burgundy and a black one. I fear the jibes from Diana on the black shirt; I think I will dislike having her call me a gangster or a thug. The shirts would be ready for fitting two days hence, and our collective suits in an additional three. The final fitting would be the day before we left for home; the suits would be expressed to us on completion.
We parted company with our ladies on leaving the shop; they had arranged to meet Amanda Groome at the Ladurée Tea Room in Harrods for high tea at four. They would meet us at the hotel later in the evening.
REAGAN
Amanda had taken a table and was waiting for us when we arrived.
“Did you get the boys suitably outfitted?” Dee and I laughed.
“Absolutely, but not without Ms. Frugal here dithering over what all of it cost. She’s not yet learnt that money is to be spent; I can’t seem to convince her that shrouds aren’t equipped with pockets so you can take the money with you.”
“Oh, put a sock in it!” Dee tried for an indignant tone but didn’t make it. She was laughing as we sat, and the waitress approached with menus. We ordered our tea and Harrods accompanying famous macaroons and chatted until we were served. Amanda’s tea cup was half-way to her lips when she stopped, and her eyes widened. I followed her glance; it was fixed on a tall, slender woman of about our age. She had just entered the room. She was a classic English Rose and lovely in the same manner as the late Princess Margaret when she was young.
“Do you know her?” Amanda put her cup in the saucer and nodded.
“I do …that’s Marjorie Thorne, and she’s coming straight for us. Do you know she’s never remarried?”Dee
did the
casual head turn that indicates extreme interest and turned back to us.
“Oh, shit.” Marjorie reached the table, and Amanda stood for the usual British greeting of kisses on both cheeks.
“Amanda! How lovely to see you here. I’ve been shopping and thought I’d stop for a cup of tea before going home. How are you?”
“Very well, and thank you, Marjorie. Please, do join us, and let me introduce my friends fromAmerica
“Espan …my former husband’s firm is Thorne, Espan, and O’Reilly. Might you be related to Mr. Espan?”
“I’m his wife. It’s nice to meet you, Marjorie.”
“And how is Terrence?”Dee
couldn’t let that pass, and Amanda and I held our
collective breath.
“Terry’s doing very well. Thank you for asking.” Marjorie stiffened slightly, but that British civility came through.
“Terry …I assume you know him well?”
“Very well. We’ve been keeping company for almost two years now. Our second anniversary is just around the corner.”
“I see. How lovely for both of you.” She looked at her watch. “Oh, dear! I didn’t realise it had got so late. I really must be going. Amanda, it was lovely to see you. Reagan, Diana, so nice to have met you. Do enjoy your visit toEngland
“It’s not difficult to see she’s still carrying the torch.” She looked atDee . “And you very
tactfully tipped a bucket of iced
water over it.”
“She had her chance, and she blew it. I’m not interested in her holding out hope of renewing the relationship. God knows I’m having enough trouble fending off theDallas
“Wise girl. She’s much more stable now and no longer so intent on getting back at her father. If she made a play for him now, it would be an all out assault.”Dee
shook her head.
“I don’t know what I was expecting her to be, but I suppose this was the best way to meet her. No preparation and no time to dread the encounter.”
“She’ll be firing off an e-mail to Henry as soon as she gets home, telling him all about his father’s latest flame. Not that she knows anything about you, but she’ll give him a full description. She’ll learn soon enough that you’re a bit more than a flame.”
“I wonder how many more old flames will come out of the woodwork.” Amanda pattedDee ’s
hand.
“I don’t think you need worry about that.”
“Well, at least I was well-dressed today. I wouldn’t have wanted to meet her when I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with horse snot on it.” Our combined laughter turned the heads of a few of the Old Guard at a nearby table, and we returned to our tea.
We were in the cab on our way back to the hotel, and I turned toDee .
“Are you going to tell Terry that you’ve met Marjorie?”
“Oh, yeah. You do know that I’m going to need you in the room to swear that I was nice and still stood up to her. I did, didn’t I?”
“I suspect your being nice to her would be the least of Terry’s concerns. He’ll be proud that you didn’t cave under her scrutiny. In fact, I think you have her on the run, and Terry will love that!”
Max and Terry were in the lounge when we walked into the suite.
“Guess who I met this afternoon.” Terry looked up, only moderately interested at this point.
“Haven’t a clue …the Queen?”
“Marjorie.” He almost dropped his beer tin, andDee
continued. To say he was intrigued would be an
understatement.
“Marjorie …you know …Fair English Rose, former wife, mother of your son …that Marjorie.”
“Bloody Hell!”
“Terry, you’d have been proud ofDee . She was a perfect lady
– no surprise there –
but she stood up to Marjorie.”
“How did you manage to encounter her?”
“We were having tea with Amanda, Marjorie walked in and spotted Amanda and made a beeline for us. We were introduced, and she recognised the name Espan. She asked if I was a relative of your partner, and I said I was his wife. She asked how you were doing, andDee
told her you were quite well …and the two of you were
coming up on the second anniversary of your relationship. She left within two
minutes of learning that
little detail.”
His smile was almost but not quite pained.
“Ah …the meeting of the once and future Mrs. Thornes, and no blood was shed.” I think the innuendo went overDee ’s
head, but Max and I sure as Hell got it.
He squeezed the hand he had been holding
since I sat beside him on the couch.
FANNY CHENAL
The phone rang before eight in the morning. Max was at the computer with his coffee, and I answered.
“Bonjour!”
“Fanny?”
“Oui.”
“C’est Max Espan. Comment êtes-vous?” (This is Max Espan. How are you?)
“Très bien, et vous?” (Very well, and you?)
“Tout à fait bien. Terry Thorne et je suis en Angleterre sur les affaires avec mon éspouse et Diana Walker, et j'ai pensé j'appellerais et verrais si vous et le Max est bien”. (Quite well. Terry Thorne and I are inEngland
“Nous faisons très bien, merci. Les raisins sont dûs pour moissonner, et alors nous serons très occupés en effet. Vous avez dit votre femme et Madame Walker est avec vous ? ” (We are doing very well, thank you. The grapes are due for harvesting, and then we shall be very busy indeed. You said your wife and Madame Walker are with you?)
“C’est correct.” (That is correct.)
“Combien de temps vous serez en Angleterre? Ce serait possible pour votre femme et Madame Walker pour venir àProvence England Provence
REAGAN
Max suddenly switched from French to English and looked round at Dee and me, covering the mouthpiece on the handset as he did.
“Would you be interested in flying toProvence
“I’m in.Dee ?”
“What time’s our flight?” Max took his hand off the microphone.
“They would be delighted, Fanny. We will be inEngland
“Tomorrow?”
“I am sure that will be good. I will call when the arrangements are made and advise the time you may expect them.”
“Bon! We shall look forward to their arrival.”Dee
snorted when Max put the phone back on its base.
“See what happens when you get pregnant, Reags? He starts calling other women and speaking to them in French!”
“Oh, stuff it.” We both laughed. An hour later Max called Fanny to tell her we’d be at La Siroque by 1100 the next morning.
MAX SKINNER
Reagan Espan-Kavanagh – in subsequent conversations with Max Espan, I’d learnt his wife uses her maiden name appended to his because of her profession – and Diana Walker arrived just before eleven. We met them in the drive, and a noticeably pregnant woman got slowly out of the car as another walked round to meet us. We did the usual kissing and took them into the chateau.
Fanny had prepared a delightful luncheon – cassoulet – with fruit and cheese for dessert. Reagan – the clearly pregnant one – groaned when I opened the bottle of Coin Perdue.
“Dammit! I can’t try your offering because of my pregnancy. Perhaps on our next visit?”
“Of course. If you like, I can send a couple of bottles home with you so you can try it once your baby’s born.” That got me a lovely smile.
“Are you sure, Max? I know it’s worth a fortune.”
“I think we can spare a few bottles for those Fanny and I hope will be good friends. I’ll send both of you home with a couple of bottles.”
“Thank you! I’ll look forward to it.” I noted a bit of a concerned look on Diana’s face.
“Max, I don’t want to deny your largesse, but isn’t that kind of a large gift for people you barely know?”
“That’s the beauty of it. We’ll just jack-up the price for those willing to pay for it.”
“I – on the other hand – have no such qualms.” Reagan Espan-Kavanagh is a woman after my own heart.
“Max, allez, allez.”
We had our lunch, and I returned to my office leaving the women to their chat.
FANNY CHENAL
“I am unsure how to begin. I hope you will forgive my not so good English. I don’t speak it often, as I’m trying to improve Max’s French.”
“Don’t worry about that Fanny. We’ll get it sorted.” Reagan was most kind to say that, and Diana nodded her agreement.
“May I ask how the two of you met Max and Terry?” They both laughed. I was to learn that Reagan and her Max met when he was attempting to select a melon at the supermarket, while Terry and Diana had encountered each other in a professional setting years before they were actually introduced. All in all, it was a comical recitation.
“I find myself most unusually attracted to Max and have been since the night I met him, though I fought the attraction for some time. I cannot but wonder if I am in love with him or if I am what you might call in lust with him.” Reagan smiled.
“I suspect it’s a bit of both. These men have an attraction for women that’s unprecedented in my experience.”
“You can say that again. I was in love with the idea of Terry Thorne for a very long time. When I met him, I fell in love with the Terry Thorne.”
I thought on that for a moment. “In the move from their films, did you note anything unusual about them physically?” Reagan shook her head.
“Nothing …believe me when I tell you they’re just as horny as any other man. Their dicks don’t bend when they’re stiff, and they have the same tender egos as any other man you’ve ever known.” I laughed, as I had already learnt those things about my Max. There was one thing I needed to ask, as any woman confidantes I had before meeting Max again were no longer available to me. These two women were the only ones with whom I might safely share any concerns or confidences from this point forward.
“If it isn’t too personal a question, how long before the two of you succumbed to their charms.” They exchanged looks and smiled as Diana answered.
“Terry and I fell into bed about five long hours after being introduced.”
“Max and I held out for three months, though not necessarily at my choice. He’s a lot more conservative than I am.” I felt a bit less of the putain on hearing that and had hope for a long lasting love with my Max.
“At least the two of you were able to make love in private. Half the world has seen me in my lingerie, not to mention Max and me in bed.” Diana laughed.
“Yes, nice little rumba on your way to the bedroom!” She has a delightful sense of humour. Reagan took a sip of her water before speaking again.
“Fanny, these men are similar to other men in many ways and different in many ways. You’ll likely find your Max more intense than any man you’ve ever known. I don’t know how well he communicates with you in private, but don’t be surprised if he’s standoffish at times. I know Terry is at times withDee ,
and my Max has been with me on occasion.”
Diana nodded her agreement.
“True enough. And Fanny, call me Dee. The only two people in the world who call me Diana are Terry and Max, Max being Reagan’s Max.
“Terry and I are probably less communicative than Max and Reags, so we likely don’t argue as much as Max and Reags do because both of them are pretty volatile. We’ve really only gotten into it twice in the almost two years we’ve been together. Max and Reags get into it fairly often, and everyone in a ten-mile radius knows it when they do. She walked out on him one night and spent the night in a hotel. Another time, he spent the night on our couch. One day when we visited them we caught them in the middle of a knock down, drag out fight. It took Terry going into professional mediator mode to get them to speak to each other again. Terry and I are more the simmer-until-it-hits-a-full-boil type, and that doesn’t happen often.” She stopped talking and looked at Reagan.
“Max and I both have very strong, dominant personalities. When you put two people like us in a committed relationship, there will be sparks on occasion. We can fight like cats and dogs, but we make up pretty quickly.”
“So what are they like in these committed relationships.”
“Loyal to a fault.” That was spoken in unison, and that made me quite happy. Diana then frowned slightly.
“Of course, if you ever go toLondon London
“Yes, Max’s former wife. He has told me of her. In view of their parting, I don’t think I have much to worry about.” Reagan leant forward onto the table.
“Fanny, trust is a big factor with these men. They’ve spent years fearing someone would sort out who they are, so there’s that issue. Another bit of the trust thing is that neither Terry nor my Max have ever really trusted women and with good reason. Both Dee and I had to work at earning their trust, and it didn’t come easily. You and Max have the surface gaiety down, but both of you clearly have trust issues. Max Skinner has never trusted anyone – male or female – until you walked into his life. You have a problem with trusting men. You will have those issues surface at some point. Don’t bail when they do. Work through it – call Dee and me if you want – but try and sort it through. If Max Skinner is anything like Terry Thorne and Maximus Decimus Meridius, he’s worth the effort. You also need to know that these men can be explosive at times, so don’t be surprised if he blows up on you at some point.” I was relieved that she had brought the trust issue forth, and I could handle the explosive aspect of Max’s character; most French men are explosive. I love Max, but I’m not quite sure I trust him. Diana was nodding as Reagan spoke.
“Fanny, on the surface, everyone thought Terry’s and my relationship was wonderful. We had the surface gaiety, too, but there was a lot beneath the surface that neither of us wanted to look at, me most of all. It was nearly a year into our relationship that Terry finally battered down most of my walls.”
“I’m so glad to hear you say that,Dee . You do
realise that his comment
yesterday about the former and future Mrs. Thornes was a proposal,
don’t you?”
“I caught it. I’m just choosing to ignore it for the present as it wasn’t a take-a-knee question.” That may be a fundamental difference in French and American women. No French woman would ever ignore a proposal of marriage, no matter how light-hearted the question.
“Fanny, the underlying issue here and one that you’re likely struggling with is the impact their celluloid life has on their real lives with us. The answer to that is none at all. These men share a common progenitor – Russell Crowe – and carry with them many of his personality traits. That’s the only true constant between them. Each of them is his own man.” I had researched Reagan on the internet as Maximus had told me on his visit here that she was a psychologist. The nature of her comment and her ability to know my fears was comforting. Diana had been listening carefully before speaking again.
“The one thing you don’t have to worry about is whether someone else finding out about Max is going to destroy as close to a perfect life as any of us are likely to find.”
“Is that why Terry and Max looked so concerned when they spoke with you from here on their visit? At the end of the conversation, Maximus said ‘it’s over’ and relaxed. Only moments before when he was talking with you,” I looked at Reagan, “he seemed to be trying to reach through time and space to be sure you were still there, and Terry had a look of true fear on his face. Was it then they knew that we wouldn’t be separated?” Before one of them could answer, I heard Max shout, and that silly little dog ran into the room and jumped onto the table.
“Tati! Non! Get off the table!” The little beast ignored me completely and proceeded to try and eat the remains of food on Reagan’s plate. Diana was laughing so hard she could scarcely breathe, and Reagan was smiling.
“Dee
has a dog that does that at least
once during any formal dinner, and my three sit and give you soulful
looks as
you eat. We’re
both accustomed to dogs,
so don’t worry about it.”
Monsieur
Duflot was calling for Tati and lumbered into the room, grabbed Tati
from the
table, apologised for his ill behaviour, and took him away.
They left shortly after five for their drive toAvignon London
DIANA
“Interesting woman, isn’t she?”
“Yes, she is. I hope my telling her that it took Max and me three months to get into bed didn’t upset her.”
“I think my disclosure took care of that.”
TERRY
I picked up the phone and dialled the number that’s not changed in 15 years.
“Nigel Groome here.”
“Nigel, Terry Thorne.”
“Terry, me old mate! How are you?”
“Very well, and I’m in London. Max and I are having new suits done; Reagan is with Max …and I’ve brought Diana along. I’d very much like for you and Amanda to meet her whilst we’re here. Are you free for dinner anytime over the next few days?”
“We’d be delighted to join you for dinner. Just let me check with Amanda and see what’s on the calendar. Hold for a tic.”
I heard him calling Amanda and their hurried consult over the calendar. Amanda picked up the phone to set the date.
“Terry! We’re free tonight and the next two. Which would be most convenient for you?”
“How about tomorrow evening? We’re at Claridge’s …why don’t you come here? We’ll have drinks then go to dinner. About seven?”
“That will be lovely, Terry. Give our best to Max and Reagan, and we’re so looking forward to meeting Diana. See you then!” She rang off. I put down the phone and sat pondering. Amanda’s words about looking forward to meeting Diana sounded exactly the same as what Marjorie had said on several different occasions when meeting the new love of an old friend …an old friend with whose former wife she had been cordial. The difference in Amanda and Marjorie is that Amanda very likely meant precisely what she said; Marjorie sharpened the knives. I sighed and prayed it would go well. At least if Diana and Amanda hated each other on sight, we’d not have to worry with polite civility on seeing each other constantly as was necessary on an Army post. Best go tell the others we had a dinner engagement tomorrow night.
AMANDA GROOME
It would wonderful to see Terry and the Espans again, and I was truly looking forward to meeting his Diana. Unbeknownst to Terry, Nigel had overheard a phone call he’d made to her on one of the nights they stayed with us. Terry had walked into the library, and Nigel followed for a bit of a chat with his brother-in-arms, just reaching the door in time to hear Terry say, “Diana, Lady, it’s Terry. I miss you.”
Of course it’s dreadful to listen in on another’s private conversation, but Nigel was as curious about this new woman in Terry’s life as I. He’d told me about doing so as we slipped into bed that night.
“Terry called Diana this evening.”
“Really? I hope you gave him a bit of privacy.”
“He was going to the library, and I followed him. I didn’t realise he was making a call until I got to the door and heard him speak her name. I should have walked away, but I need the comfort of knowing that she’s a good person.”
“Lord knows, whatever she is, she could scarcely be worse than Marjorie. And yes, you should have walked away …what did you hear?” He’d laughed at my ravening curiosity before answering.
“From the tone in his voice, I’d say he’s over the moon for her. Of course, I could only hear his side of the conversation, but from his tone, I rather think her words were equally endearing. He clearly misses her a great deal.”
“Thank the Lord! It’s about time he hooked up with someone who cares for him rather than just servicing him to get back at her father.”
“Amanda! I’m shocked.”
“No, you aren’t. We long since discussed the fact that we knew that’s precisely what Marjorie was doing.”
*
Nigel was wearing a new suit, and I was dressing carefully. If – as I hoped – Diana and I would become friends, I wanted to make a good first impression. I’d chosen my good black dinner suit and pearls.
We’d be meeting them in their suite at Claridge’s. I truly can read Terry Thorne like a book. He wanted us to meet Diana on his turf as that allowed him to control the timing. If Diana and I hated each other on sight, we’d leave early for the restaurant. If things improved over dinner, we’d be invited back to the suite for a nightcap. If the mood didn’t change or worsened, we’d say good night at the entrance to Claridge’s. I knew precisely what his words would be, as I’d been schooled on them by the Commandant’s wife at Nigel’s first posting.
“It was good seeing you again, and thanks for making the trip into the city. See you soon.”
I also knew Terry well enough to know that if it didn’t go well, he’d retain our friendship, but we’d not see Diana again. Further, he would mention her only if Nigel or I brought her name into the conversation. That’s what he’d done with Barbara, the woman with whom he’d had a brief fling shortly following his divorce from Marjorie. He was at such loose ends after the divorce that he was looking to remarry as soon as possible. Fortunately, he saw through Barbara quickly enough. Terry was the means to an end for her; she hated being a divorcée. She could have given a toss about being the loving and supportive wife of a man like Terry Thorne.
*
Max and Reagan opened the door. It was wonderful to see them again and to note that Reagan was expecting. We exchanged kisses before they took us to the lounge where Terry was waiting with Diana. I’m so very fond of Reagan that I fully anticipated liking the woman I knew to be her dearest friend. I had to stop myself from catching my breath when Terry introduced us.
“Diana, I’d like you meet two people who are very dear to me, Nigel and Amanda Groome. This is Diana Walker.” I’d never seen Terry look at Marjorie with the fierce look of pride, passion, joy, and love that crossed his face as he watched Diana during our introductions. I took the hand she graciously extended, forcing myself to drag my eyes away from the huge blue topaz hanging from round her neck by a thin silver chain.
When Terry had stayed with us after Marjorie filed for divorce, I’d seen him take it from his pocket each evening on returning to our flat and had asked him about it. His response had been simple but eloquent.
“It was my grandmum’s. She gave it to me shortly before she died. I promised her the only woman who would ever wear it would the one woman I knew I could spend the rest of my life with; Marjorie’s never even seen it.”
Diana’s handshake was cool and firm and every bit that of a lady …precisely what I wanted for Terry’s lady to be in public. Her voice was low and well modulated.
“It’s wonderful to meet you. I’ve heard so much about both of you from Max and Reagan, not to mention Terry. He’s told me how you took him in after his and Marjorie’s separation and divorce. Though I didn’t know him then, I’d like to thank you for being there when he most needed you.”
Oh, yes, public Diana’s going to suit very well, and private Diana seems to have gotten to the man behind the masque. Terry caught my satisfied smile and stepped up.
“Nigel? Your usual, or would you prefer something stronger? Amanda?”
“Beer would be fine for me …Amanda?”
“Perhaps a bit of sherry? I know it’s more an after dinner drink, but I feel I’m amongst friends and can bend the social rules a bit.”
Terry joined Nigel in the beer, but I noted he poured his into two glasses and gave one to Diana. He got a scotch for Max and orange juice for Reagan, and we all settled in for a bit of a chat. We toasted all round, and I spoke to Reagan, hoping to give Diana a bit of ease from what I know she must have felt to be an intense scrutiny. We all knew she was here for the friends’ stamp of approval.
“Reagan, I’m delighted to see you and Max are expecting. May I ask when you’re due?” She smiled as Max’s arm went round her shoulders.
“Mid-December, just before Christmas, and we’re counting the days.”
“Girl or boy?”
“We don’t know and don’t want to. We’re just going to be happy with whichever the baby is and grateful for a healthy child.”
“Definitely the right attitude in my book!” I turned back to Diana.
“Diana, Terry tells me you event. What sort of horse do you prefer?”
“I’d like one that could get me around Badminton or Burghley, but I don’t think Jack’s the mount for that. He’s a Quarter Horse, very safe and very sturdy.”
“How lovely! I used to ride as well before the children came along. Having four youngsters isn’t conducive to my riding any longer, so now I’m a ‘pony club mum’ for one of our girls.” Since Diana events, she’s not the haughty ice-queen sort that Marjorie was. She’s had sufficient manure on her boots and done more horse nursing than she’d care to recall. She’s down-to-earth and will be wonderful for Terry as long as her sense of humour remains intact.
“Actually, I think I’m becoming a pony club surrogate mum.” She looked at Terry, and they both laughed.
“We gave a pony to the daughter of the firm’s office manager, and I’m teaching both Dolores and Terry to ride. Truthfully, I’m only helping school them. I have them with my riding coach, and Alice is a far better teacher than I’m ever going to be. Did Terry tell you he has his own horse now?” I smiled.
“I’m glad someone’s teaching Terry to ride. The time or two he rode with Nigel and me, I felt truly sorry for him. He must have been sore for days after the way he bounced round in the saddle. Of course, I did feel sorrier for the poor horse …liniment baths for a week on the poor beast. And Diana, it takes a good horsewoman to know that she may not be the best instructor. I commend you for that.”
“Terry never told me about riding with you two …tell me more.” Terry feigned a wince and laughed.
“We hill-topped with a hunt. Fortunately for both Terry and the horse, it was a one-time thing. I do miss the hunt; it would have been lovely to have you over to ride to hounds with us during the season.”
“I’d have enjoyed that, Amanda.” The light in Terry’s eyes was unmistakable, and I wondered what he was thinking. It was the same light I’d seen before the perfect gift arrived for one of the children.
We chatted on for more than an hour. Terry finally looked at his watch.
“We need to leave within five minutes, else we’ll be late for our reservation.” Nigel’s belly must have forced him to ask the question.
“Where are we having dinner?”
“Downstairs …the Gordon Ramsay. I hope that suits you. I think Diana would have preferred a pub, but as you and I did that as young officers, I wanted something a bit more elegant. We’ve come a long way, Nigel. We can do better these days than pub-grub.” Nigel patted his expanding middle; the man has become quite portly over the years.
“Couldn’t have chosen better myself.” We were downstairs perfectly in time for our half-eight reservation.
REAGAN
I knew Dee had been nervous about meeting Nigel and Amanda; I also knew she had no need for concern. Nigel and Amanda may be English gentry, but they’re also as easy going and nice a couple as I’d ever met. Dee wanted to make the ‘right’ impression on the couple she knew were Terry’s oldest friends, and she knew they had known Marjorie.
It’s always a bit intimidating to be the new woman in a man’s life when you meet people who knew him and his former wife. I knew Terry would have told her that the Groome’s hadn’t been all that fond of Marjorie – they’d have been too nice to ever say so and would have treated Marjorie with all due deference as Terry’s wife – but he’s no fool. He reads people better than anyone I’ve ever known aside from Max. I wouldn’t care to try putting anything past either of those two men.
Amanda liked Dee on sight, and it was clear that Dee liked her. Once that was established, everyone relaxed, and we had a wonderful evening. I did miss being able to join everyone in cocktails and wine with dinner followed by cognac and sherry with our coffee, but this baby is more than worth that small sacrifice. Even when he or she is born, I won’t drink again until the breast-feeding is behind me. Don’t want a tipsy baby, now do we?
We returned to the suite for after-dinner drinks and visited until almost one in the morning. Nigel finally responded to Amanda’s hints that they should be going. The one that finally got him on his feet was her pointed comment about an expectant mother needing her rest. The four of us saw them to the door and said good night. It had been a wonderful evening, and it was clear that Dee and the Groomes were going to get on very well.
*
I can’t say that it’s usual for me to be restless during pregnancy as I’ve never carried a baby this long, but I do know that it’s common for many women. This seemed to be my night to be sleepless whether from the baby’s nocturnal somersaults, my normal odd sleep patterns, or a combination of the two.
I slipped out of bed just after three and tugged on my robe before leaving the bedroom with a closed door and made my way to the lounge. I flipped on a lamp and picked up the most recent copy of The English Home. I’d been flipping through pages of houses with those beautifully manicured gardens for about five minutes when I heard the door to Terry and Dee's room open and then close softly. I looked up to see Dee padding quietly toward me. She sat in a chair across from my position on the couch and grinned.
“I think the evening went well.”
“I believe Nigel and Amanda are about as far into your corner as it’s possible to be. I know from the first time I met Amanda that there was no love lost between she and Marjorie. She was nice enough never to say so to Terry, but she didn’t hesitate when we talked. I think you’re home free.”
“You really think so? I don’t usually care all that much whether someone likes me or not, but it’s different with them. They’ve been so close to Terry for so long.”
“Dee, the hugs and kisses Amanda and Nigel gave you when they left were genuine. I know you hate it when I say this, but trust me on this one, would you?” She nodded slowly, wanting to believe me, but she wasn’t entirely there.
“How much has Terry told you about Marjorie?” She tilted her head to the side as she considered that one.
“Not a lot, really. I know all the particulars, but none of the deep feelings; he’s never really wanted to go there. I’ve had to surmise their marriage followed a similar pattern as most young, failed marriages – wildly in lust mistaken for love followed by the bitter divorce. Marjorie was barely 18 when they met; he was 22. They met in a pub, and he thought she was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. They had stand-up sex against a wall behind the pub – they were both blind drunk, according to him – and he saw her every night as long as he was in London that time. I think it was about two weeks. He was back a month later and called her. She was living on campus – she was attending City of Westminster College – and he picked her up that Friday evening. They spent the weekend together.
“He said she seemed not as wild or carefree that time as when he’d first met her but wrote it off to it possibly being the first time she’d ever spent two nights in a hotel with a man. He was back in London again three weeks after that and called her. She said she’d meet him at the pub where they met. When he arrived she was already there and in a booth waiting for him. Her first words were ‘I’m pregnant.’ He was stunned.
“She’d been so hot-to-trot that it never occurred to him that she wasn’t on the pill, so he hadn’t bothered with frangers …that was before AIDS slapped all of us in the face. That was also when he found out that her dad was his commanding general. For Terry, there was no question about marrying her whoever her father. She took him home the next day, and he told her dad they were getting married. Can you imagine the courage that took? His career could have been over then and there. The only issue was whether Mr. and Mrs. General wanted a Church wedding or one at the Registry Office. That was the only option he gave them. Mrs. General opted for the former.
“Terry never told them Marjorie was pregnant, but if a Church wedding was on the horizon, it had better be soon. He was leaving on deployment in two months and wanted the rings on their fingers before he left. They got married, and it was apparently pretty much downhill from there. It took him a while to realize that getting pregnant and marrying a wild Colonial boy had been Marjorie’s way of getting back at her dad’s authoritarianism.”
Wow. No wonder Terry had spent the years between Marjorie and Dee with women like Miranda. At least with the Mirandas of this world, he always knew the lay of the land.
“That’s pretty much what Amanda told me when we met. Even though she wasn’t a member of the wedding party – Nigel was Terry’s best man – Marjorie spilt her guts to Amanda a couple of days before the wedding. Amanda figured she was chosen because she wasn’t part of Marjorie’s ‘social set’ and wouldn’t tell everyone in town. She was right.
“The two women established a cordial relationship because Terry and Nigel were so close. Whenever both men were in town, the couples spent time together. Amanda and Nigel were at hospital with Marjorie – and the General and his wife – when Henry was born; Terry was on deployment. Marjorie was furious at both her father and Terry for Terry’s not being present and blamed both of them. In truth and from what Amanda’s told me, I do think Marjorie loved Terry. The problem was that he was as devoted to duty as her father, and she hated that. She chose to rebel with a carbon copy of her father; ironic, isn’t it? Their marriage was doomed from day one.”
We sat silently, thinking over the realities of Terry’s marriage and its ongoing impact on his life. A few minutes later we both went back to bed. As I snuggled into the warmth that is Max, I thanked God there wasn’t a Marjorie in his past.
“Terry, I do not need jackets cut to fit over my Kevlars. I haven’t gotten a single call since Argentina, and I doubt I’m going to. It’s an unnecessary expense.”
We were enjoying the time in London out of our normal, busy lives. Since we didn’t have to be at the tailor’s until ten, we were having an unusual morning chat before we got out of bed. He’d been toying idly with Gran and the boob below it when the conversation started.
“What happened on that job? From what you told me, you completed it successfully. There’s no reason for Capt. Bigelow to have shut you out so completely.”
“Capt. Bigelow,” I was using the same hateful tone in speaking his name that Günter had once elicited, “and I had a few heated words over some personnel choices I didn’t feel appropriate for my participation.”
Terry’s fingers came to my face to smooth the tightness in my jaw. “Conflict of interest?”
“Yes. I stayed out of the selection discussions, but the actual operation was still full of possibilities no matter which firm was chosen. I think I scared Dino during the little training time we had.”
He smiled at the thought of me in Dino’s face again; that hadn’t happened since we’d first met. “How heated was your discussion with Biggie?”
Terry had always referred to my ex-boss as Captain Bigelow; using my casual name for him told me Terry had lost all respect for him.
“Let’s see. I remember my face flaming, the pressure on my hands leaning on his desk, and going nose to nose with him. I think he had to lean closer to me to hear my words about the memo to Webb. I don’t think I swore at him when I threatened to quit.”
Terry lifted his chin and let it drop. “Poor bugger. He doesn’t know how close he came to dying. I’m proud of you, and he’s a fool for putting you in that position. You did warn him early on. Diana, you WILL be called again. Biggie will be retiring at some time. It may be a while, but you need to be prepared. There is also the small matter of my line of work.”
“One lightweight, black wool then. I have enough other suits, Terry.”
“Yes, you do …but they’re out of fashion. They’re left over from your corporate years, and styles have changed. Diana, please, do it for me. I want to see you turned out a treat.”
Why does he have to be so earnest? His entreaty stung a little though what he said had some truth to it. I had bought classic suits while I’d been working full time; they were neither out of style nor threadbare, though perhaps they didn’t have the flair of more current fashion.
Of the two of us, he would always be the clothes horse; I was more interested in the newest fashion in horse blankets. I’d bought more new clothes since knowing him than I had in the prior five years. I couldn’t show up for one of our social engagements in the same dress twice; it would send the wrong message about the health of TEO’s business. I’d bought more skirts and little tank tops to wear around the house just so I could look more feminine for him. Prior to meeting Terry, my idea of a fashion spree was new Levis and t-shirts.
Was he tiring of my look? That was the question I was willing to consider.
My deep breath released through my mouth kept me from having tears spring from my eyes and fears of losing him clutch at my guts. Visions of Miranda’s designer clothes and the society mavens’ flashy dresses came immediately to mind, and their blatant come-ons to him flashed on my internal movie screen.
“Boomer, you want to expand on that thought a little or rephrase that some?” I was so proud of myself that I hadn’t lashed out at him or retreated.
“I want to give you the world.” He took my face in his hands. “The new truck and trailer were a start. Jewels don’t really fit with our lifestyle so they’re out. I can replace your older suits.”
“Define replace.”
That had thrown him. His eyebrows danced with confusion.
“Replace? Substitute an approximate replica of an existing object?”
“Do you want me to change my look? Am I too predictable?”
The light of recognition began dawning in his eyes. “Christ, no, Lady. Never. I’m NOT trying to change you.” His kisses to my eyes and cheeks put my fears to rest. “I rather fancy peeling you out of your jeans.”
MAXIMUS
“Are you sure you can walk so far?”
“Max, it’s less than half-a-mile. If I can’t walk that far, just shoot me now.”
“I ask only because I do not want you to become overly fatigued.”
“Walking a grand total of less than a mile isn’t going to fatigue me.”
“As you wish.” She sighed and rolled her eyes at me, much in the same manner as Scarto and Argento were wont to do when I had annoyed them. We would be walking from our hotel to Anderson and Sheppard, the tailors Terry and I had patronised for years. We had spoken with Cedric – our tailor – and he would be most willing to accommodate both Diana and Cassandra in this visit. We left the hotel 20 minutes later.
Cassandra and Diana lagged a bit behind Terry and myself, and we soon became aware of those we met on the street laughing as they looked just past us. Terry glanced over his shoulder and sniggered. I followed his glance and stopped in my tracks.
They were walking in a most strange manner. From a dead stop, both women took an exaggerated step forward, bringing their right knees high in a military fashion, put that leg down, whirled 360 degrees, took two steps forward and one back before enacting the sequence again. I looked at Terry who was struggling with his effort not to laugh. His strangled commentary brought further questions.
“John Cleese …Minister of Funny Walks. Monty Python films. It’s a long story.” Indeed. “If we speed it up a bit, no one will know they’re with us.” I dared not look back again. Fortunately, they had resumed their normal gaits by the time we reached Anderson and Sheppard.
*
Cedric was waiting when we entered the shop.
“Mr. Thorne, Mr. Espan, it’s so good to see each of you again. I’ve engaged Cecily to assist your ladies. Shall we get to it?”
Introductions were made, and we dispersed to the gentlemen’s and ladies’ fitting rooms. Given Cassandra and Diana’s high spirits on the walk to the shop, I pitied Cecily. Cedric smiled as he compared our current measurements to those taken for our last fittings.
“It seems both of you have been eating well since your last visit. The introduction of a lady into a man’s life often results in his requiring an increase in the waist of his pants.” Yes …I had loosened the notch on my belt some time past though that did not alleviate the snugness of the waistband of my slacks. Terry’s chagrined look said the same was true for him.
Forty-five minutes later, we all met again in the fabrics room. Diana was apparently seeking something as she went from one bolt of fabric to the next, though she seemed not to find what she sought. My wife finally stopped her, speaking softly.
“Dee, stop looking for the prices on the fabrics. They aren’t there. Cedric and Cecily will help us select fabrics appropriate to styles. Your usual parsimony isn’t relevant here.”
“So I’m going to have to do this again in three years because some people in the room will have decided what I had made now isn’t in style any longer.”
“That’s right …and hopefully, I’ll be between pregnancies then so I can have real clothes done.” Cecily patted my wife on the arm.
“Don’t worry about timing, Mrs. Espan. We make at least one trip to the States each year; you can catch us on one of those trips.” I could not but smile at my wife’s implication of children beyond the one now lying beneath her breast.
At the end of the day both Terry and I had ordered six suits, Diana three, and Cassandra three. The maternity panel in the belly of the skirts and slacks would enable her to wear her new suits at any stage of this or any subsequent pregnancy.
Diana would also have a new riding jacket as a gift from Terry for the next eventing season. Terry had a most difficult choice with the lining but finally settled on red satin after our whispered consultation. Diana’s form over fences deserves an upgrade from the basic black which disguises poor equitation.
Prior to leaving the tailors’, Diana had persuaded Terry to have new shirts made in colours other than his usual blue or white; a blue pinstripe was included. Cassandra sought to spice up – her term – my own colour scheme with a shirt of deep burgundy and a black one. I fear the jibes from Diana on the black shirt; I think I will dislike having her call me a gangster or a thug. The shirts would be ready for fitting two days hence, and our collective suits in an additional three. The final fitting would be the day before we left for home; the suits would be expressed to us on completion.
We parted company with our ladies on leaving the shop; they had arranged to meet Amanda Groome at the Ladurée Tea Room in Harrods for high tea at four. They would meet us at the hotel later in the evening.
REAGAN
Amanda had taken a table and was waiting for us when we arrived.
“Did you get the boys suitably outfitted?” Dee and I laughed.
“Absolutely, but not without Ms. Frugal here dithering over what all of it cost. She’s not yet learnt that money is to be spent; I can’t seem to convince her that shrouds aren’t equipped with pockets so you can take the money with you.”
“Oh, put a sock in it!” Dee tried for an indignant tone but didn’t make it. She was laughing as we sat, and the waitress approached with menus. We ordered our tea and Harrods accompanying famous macaroons and chatted until we were served. Amanda’s tea cup was half-way to her lips when she stopped, and her eyes widened. I followed her glance; it was fixed on a tall, slender woman of about our age. She had just entered the room. She was a classic English Rose and lovely in the same manner as the late Princess Margaret when she was young.
“Do you know her?” Amanda put her cup in the saucer and nodded.
“I do …that’s Marjorie Thorne, and she’s coming straight for us. Do you know she’s never remarried?”
“Oh, shit.” Marjorie reached the table, and Amanda stood for the usual British greeting of kisses on both cheeks.
“Amanda! How lovely to see you here. I’ve been shopping and thought I’d stop for a cup of tea before going home. How are you?”
“Very well, and thank you, Marjorie. Please, do join us, and let me introduce my friends from
“Espan …my former husband’s firm is Thorne, Espan, and O’Reilly. Might you be related to Mr. Espan?”
“I’m his wife. It’s nice to meet you, Marjorie.”
“And how is Terrence?”
“Terry’s doing very well. Thank you for asking.” Marjorie stiffened slightly, but that British civility came through.
“Terry …I assume you know him well?”
“Very well. We’ve been keeping company for almost two years now. Our second anniversary is just around the corner.”
“I see. How lovely for both of you.” She looked at her watch. “Oh, dear! I didn’t realise it had got so late. I really must be going. Amanda, it was lovely to see you. Reagan, Diana, so nice to have met you. Do enjoy your visit to
“It’s not difficult to see she’s still carrying the torch.” She looked at
“She had her chance, and she blew it. I’m not interested in her holding out hope of renewing the relationship. God knows I’m having enough trouble fending off the
“Wise girl. She’s much more stable now and no longer so intent on getting back at her father. If she made a play for him now, it would be an all out assault.”
“I don’t know what I was expecting her to be, but I suppose this was the best way to meet her. No preparation and no time to dread the encounter.”
“She’ll be firing off an e-mail to Henry as soon as she gets home, telling him all about his father’s latest flame. Not that she knows anything about you, but she’ll give him a full description. She’ll learn soon enough that you’re a bit more than a flame.”
“I wonder how many more old flames will come out of the woodwork.” Amanda patted
“I don’t think you need worry about that.”
“Well, at least I was well-dressed today. I wouldn’t have wanted to meet her when I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with horse snot on it.” Our combined laughter turned the heads of a few of the Old Guard at a nearby table, and we returned to our tea.
*
We were in the cab on our way back to the hotel, and I turned to
“Are you going to tell Terry that you’ve met Marjorie?”
“Oh, yeah. You do know that I’m going to need you in the room to swear that I was nice and still stood up to her. I did, didn’t I?”
“I suspect your being nice to her would be the least of Terry’s concerns. He’ll be proud that you didn’t cave under her scrutiny. In fact, I think you have her on the run, and Terry will love that!”
Max and Terry were in the lounge when we walked into the suite.
“Guess who I met this afternoon.” Terry looked up, only moderately interested at this point.
“Haven’t a clue …the Queen?”
“Marjorie.” He almost dropped his beer tin, and
“Marjorie …you know …Fair English Rose, former wife, mother of your son …that Marjorie.”
“Bloody Hell!”
“Terry, you’d have been proud of
“How did you manage to encounter her?”
“We were having tea with Amanda, Marjorie walked in and spotted Amanda and made a beeline for us. We were introduced, and she recognised the name Espan. She asked if I was a relative of your partner, and I said I was his wife. She asked how you were doing, and
His smile was almost but not quite pained.
“Ah …the meeting of the once and future Mrs. Thornes, and no blood was shed.” I think the innuendo went over
FANNY CHENAL
The phone rang before eight in the morning. Max was at the computer with his coffee, and I answered.
“Bonjour!”
“Fanny?”
“Oui.”
“C’est Max Espan. Comment êtes-vous?” (This is Max Espan. How are you?)
“Très bien, et vous?” (Very well, and you?)
“Tout à fait bien. Terry Thorne et je suis en Angleterre sur les affaires avec mon éspouse et Diana Walker, et j'ai pensé j'appellerais et verrais si vous et le Max est bien”. (Quite well. Terry Thorne and I are in
“Nous faisons très bien, merci. Les raisins sont dûs pour moissonner, et alors nous serons très occupés en effet. Vous avez dit votre femme et Madame Walker est avec vous ? ” (We are doing very well, thank you. The grapes are due for harvesting, and then we shall be very busy indeed. You said your wife and Madame Walker are with you?)
“C’est correct.” (That is correct.)
“Combien de temps vous serez en Angleterre? Ce serait possible pour votre femme et Madame Walker pour venir à
REAGAN
Max suddenly switched from French to English and looked round at Dee and me, covering the mouthpiece on the handset as he did.
“Would you be interested in flying to
“I’m in.
“What time’s our flight?” Max took his hand off the microphone.
“They would be delighted, Fanny. We will be in
“Tomorrow?”
“I am sure that will be good. I will call when the arrangements are made and advise the time you may expect them.”
“Bon! We shall look forward to their arrival.”
“See what happens when you get pregnant, Reags? He starts calling other women and speaking to them in French!”
“Oh, stuff it.” We both laughed. An hour later Max called Fanny to tell her we’d be at La Siroque by 1100 the next morning.
MAX SKINNER
Reagan Espan-Kavanagh – in subsequent conversations with Max Espan, I’d learnt his wife uses her maiden name appended to his because of her profession – and Diana Walker arrived just before eleven. We met them in the drive, and a noticeably pregnant woman got slowly out of the car as another walked round to meet us. We did the usual kissing and took them into the chateau.
Fanny had prepared a delightful luncheon – cassoulet – with fruit and cheese for dessert. Reagan – the clearly pregnant one – groaned when I opened the bottle of Coin Perdue.
“Dammit! I can’t try your offering because of my pregnancy. Perhaps on our next visit?”
“Of course. If you like, I can send a couple of bottles home with you so you can try it once your baby’s born.” That got me a lovely smile.
“Are you sure, Max? I know it’s worth a fortune.”
“I think we can spare a few bottles for those Fanny and I hope will be good friends. I’ll send both of you home with a couple of bottles.”
“Thank you! I’ll look forward to it.” I noted a bit of a concerned look on Diana’s face.
“Max, I don’t want to deny your largesse, but isn’t that kind of a large gift for people you barely know?”
“That’s the beauty of it. We’ll just jack-up the price for those willing to pay for it.”
“I – on the other hand – have no such qualms.” Reagan Espan-Kavanagh is a woman after my own heart.
“Max, allez, allez.”
We had our lunch, and I returned to my office leaving the women to their chat.
FANNY CHENAL
“I am unsure how to begin. I hope you will forgive my not so good English. I don’t speak it often, as I’m trying to improve Max’s French.”
“Don’t worry about that Fanny. We’ll get it sorted.” Reagan was most kind to say that, and Diana nodded her agreement.
“May I ask how the two of you met Max and Terry?” They both laughed. I was to learn that Reagan and her Max met when he was attempting to select a melon at the supermarket, while Terry and Diana had encountered each other in a professional setting years before they were actually introduced. All in all, it was a comical recitation.
“I find myself most unusually attracted to Max and have been since the night I met him, though I fought the attraction for some time. I cannot but wonder if I am in love with him or if I am what you might call in lust with him.” Reagan smiled.
“I suspect it’s a bit of both. These men have an attraction for women that’s unprecedented in my experience.”
“You can say that again. I was in love with the idea of Terry Thorne for a very long time. When I met him, I fell in love with the Terry Thorne.”
I thought on that for a moment. “In the move from their films, did you note anything unusual about them physically?” Reagan shook her head.
“Nothing …believe me when I tell you they’re just as horny as any other man. Their dicks don’t bend when they’re stiff, and they have the same tender egos as any other man you’ve ever known.” I laughed, as I had already learnt those things about my Max. There was one thing I needed to ask, as any woman confidantes I had before meeting Max again were no longer available to me. These two women were the only ones with whom I might safely share any concerns or confidences from this point forward.
“If it isn’t too personal a question, how long before the two of you succumbed to their charms.” They exchanged looks and smiled as Diana answered.
“Terry and I fell into bed about five long hours after being introduced.”
“Max and I held out for three months, though not necessarily at my choice. He’s a lot more conservative than I am.” I felt a bit less of the putain on hearing that and had hope for a long lasting love with my Max.
“At least the two of you were able to make love in private. Half the world has seen me in my lingerie, not to mention Max and me in bed.” Diana laughed.
“Yes, nice little rumba on your way to the bedroom!” She has a delightful sense of humour. Reagan took a sip of her water before speaking again.
“Fanny, these men are similar to other men in many ways and different in many ways. You’ll likely find your Max more intense than any man you’ve ever known. I don’t know how well he communicates with you in private, but don’t be surprised if he’s standoffish at times. I know Terry is at times with
“True enough. And Fanny, call me Dee. The only two people in the world who call me Diana are Terry and Max, Max being Reagan’s Max.
“Terry and I are probably less communicative than Max and Reags, so we likely don’t argue as much as Max and Reags do because both of them are pretty volatile. We’ve really only gotten into it twice in the almost two years we’ve been together. Max and Reags get into it fairly often, and everyone in a ten-mile radius knows it when they do. She walked out on him one night and spent the night in a hotel. Another time, he spent the night on our couch. One day when we visited them we caught them in the middle of a knock down, drag out fight. It took Terry going into professional mediator mode to get them to speak to each other again. Terry and I are more the simmer-until-it-hits-a-full-boil type, and that doesn’t happen often.” She stopped talking and looked at Reagan.
“Max and I both have very strong, dominant personalities. When you put two people like us in a committed relationship, there will be sparks on occasion. We can fight like cats and dogs, but we make up pretty quickly.”
“So what are they like in these committed relationships.”
“Loyal to a fault.” That was spoken in unison, and that made me quite happy. Diana then frowned slightly.
“Of course, if you ever go to
“Yes, Max’s former wife. He has told me of her. In view of their parting, I don’t think I have much to worry about.” Reagan leant forward onto the table.
“Fanny, trust is a big factor with these men. They’ve spent years fearing someone would sort out who they are, so there’s that issue. Another bit of the trust thing is that neither Terry nor my Max have ever really trusted women and with good reason. Both Dee and I had to work at earning their trust, and it didn’t come easily. You and Max have the surface gaiety down, but both of you clearly have trust issues. Max Skinner has never trusted anyone – male or female – until you walked into his life. You have a problem with trusting men. You will have those issues surface at some point. Don’t bail when they do. Work through it – call Dee and me if you want – but try and sort it through. If Max Skinner is anything like Terry Thorne and Maximus Decimus Meridius, he’s worth the effort. You also need to know that these men can be explosive at times, so don’t be surprised if he blows up on you at some point.” I was relieved that she had brought the trust issue forth, and I could handle the explosive aspect of Max’s character; most French men are explosive. I love Max, but I’m not quite sure I trust him. Diana was nodding as Reagan spoke.
“Fanny, on the surface, everyone thought Terry’s and my relationship was wonderful. We had the surface gaiety, too, but there was a lot beneath the surface that neither of us wanted to look at, me most of all. It was nearly a year into our relationship that Terry finally battered down most of my walls.”
“I’m so glad to hear you say that,
“I caught it. I’m just choosing to ignore it for the present as it wasn’t a take-a-knee question.” That may be a fundamental difference in French and American women. No French woman would ever ignore a proposal of marriage, no matter how light-hearted the question.
“Fanny, the underlying issue here and one that you’re likely struggling with is the impact their celluloid life has on their real lives with us. The answer to that is none at all. These men share a common progenitor – Russell Crowe – and carry with them many of his personality traits. That’s the only true constant between them. Each of them is his own man.” I had researched Reagan on the internet as Maximus had told me on his visit here that she was a psychologist. The nature of her comment and her ability to know my fears was comforting. Diana had been listening carefully before speaking again.
“The one thing you don’t have to worry about is whether someone else finding out about Max is going to destroy as close to a perfect life as any of us are likely to find.”
“Is that why Terry and Max looked so concerned when they spoke with you from here on their visit? At the end of the conversation, Maximus said ‘it’s over’ and relaxed. Only moments before when he was talking with you,” I looked at Reagan, “he seemed to be trying to reach through time and space to be sure you were still there, and Terry had a look of true fear on his face. Was it then they knew that we wouldn’t be separated?” Before one of them could answer, I heard Max shout, and that silly little dog ran into the room and jumped onto the table.
“Tati! Non! Get off the table!” The little beast ignored me completely and proceeded to try and eat the remains of food on Reagan’s plate. Diana was laughing so hard she could scarcely breathe, and Reagan was smiling.
“
They left shortly after five for their drive to
DIANA
“Interesting woman, isn’t she?”
“Yes, she is. I hope my telling her that it took Max and me three months to get into bed didn’t upset her.”
“I think my disclosure took care of that.”