Secrets From the Past (38 page)

Harry knew I was still feeling emotional, and he did not mention Val, or Mom and Dad. Instead he started to talk about my grandparents, Dave and Greta Stone.

‘They saved my life, you know,’ he announced at one moment.

‘No, I didn’t know that,’ I said, looking across the table at him. ‘No one ever told me.’

‘I was seven, sad and lonely, a lost little boy, really,’ he began. ‘My father was a serial womanizer of the worst kind – he boasted about it. My mother was an alcoholic because of his boasting. My father had a trust fund, so we weren’t poor. Except when it came to feelings and giving love and attention to their child. Me. My parents were awful.’

Harry paused to sip his coffee, and looked at me. ‘Tommy and I met at school, and he sort of adopted me, took me under his wing. Once, after he’d come home with me, to our apartment on Eighty-Sixth Street, he had been horrified. It wasn’t messy or neglected. Just cold, seemingly deserted, and a little bit frightening to him, I guess.’

‘Harry, what a terrible thing for you! Growing up like that,’ I sympathized. ‘And I bet Dad was appalled, because he was so empathetic.’

Harry went on, ‘So much so, he started inviting me to his parents’ apartment for dinner. We’d do our homework, and then we’d have lovely food, cooked by your marvellous, generous grandmother. It was heaven for me. At weekends Tommy always included me in their little jaunts, to the movies, sometimes to the theatre, even out to dinner. In the end, I became part of the family, spent all my time with them.’

‘And you became like brothers, didn’t you? Since you were both only children.’

‘That’s true. And do you know, Serena, in all the years I knew Tommy, and that was right up to his death last year, we never had a row. Sixty-two years.’ He gave me a look that was full of amazement.

I laughed. ‘That must be one helluva record.’

He laughed too. ‘I think it was.’

I was a little nervous when I put the key in the lock and opened the front door to Val’s studio, in an old palazzo on the Grand Canal.

Harry and I stood there in the doorway for a moment or two, glancing around. We stood facing a large space, obviously the living room, with tall windows at the far end, overlooking the canal. It was quite impressive.

‘Come on,’ Harry said, closing the door behind us. We both stepped forward, and I turned on a couple of lamps, while Harry headed for the air conditioner, and adjusted it to high. ‘It was on low,’ he muttered.

Slowly, I walked around this main room.

It had a highly polished parquet floor, and several large sofas and chairs, all of them upholstered in a dark, fir-green fabric. The walls were painted cream, and the other woodwork was a buttery colour.

It was an airy room, with lots of daylight, and an ornate Venetian glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There were several glass coffee tables, and some nice pieces of sculpture. Along one wall there was a series of tall bookshelves. On some shelves there were photographic books as well as novels.

For the most part, the shelves were filled with photographs – of me at different ages, alone, and with the twins; of Mom and Dad with me; Mom and Dad with Val and Harry; photographs of Jessica and Cara. All in beautiful frames, so many of them, and they told their own story. And Val’s story, and how she felt about us all. She had loved us – there was no question in my mind about that.

My attention was taken by a photograph of Mom and Dad, with Harry standing off to one side. My mother, as usual, looked incandescent, and so gorgeous she was breathtaking. As I continued to study this picture, I noticed the look on Harry’s face, and I thought: Oh my God, a single frame does tell it all.
Harry had been in love with my mother
. I knew that at once.

I turned around quickly; he was staring at me intently. He must have seen the look of comprehension reflected on my face, because his expression changed slightly.

‘Yes, I was,’ he said, coming closer, looking again at the photograph, and then at me. ‘Always. It’s probably why my two marriages never worked. And none of my relationships with other women.’

‘Did Mom know how you felt about her?’ I asked, sounding slightly breathless, once more full of amazement and wonder. How little we know about secrets from the past.

‘I’m not sure, Serena,’ Harry said softly. ‘Certainly never from me. But Elizabeth might have known I was in love with her. Women are intuitive about these things.’

‘And Tommy? Did he know? Or perhaps guess?’

‘No, he didn’t.’

‘And Val?’

‘Maybe.’ Harry shook his head. ‘I was in love with your mother, but I also loved Tommy. And anyway, Elizabeth worshipped your father. From the day she met him … an hour before I strolled onto the scene and also fell for her.’

‘Oh Harry.’ I stared at him. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘You don’t have to be.’ He smiled and his eyes were warm, loving. ‘I didn’t fare too badly, you know, and you were always like the daughter I never had – and still are.’

I slipped my arm through his and led him away from the bookshelves. ‘Let’s look around the studio. I think there must be other rooms, perhaps through that door over there.’

We spent another twenty minutes viewing the charming studio. There was a bedroom, also overlooking the canal, a small kitchen, a bathroom and another medium-sized room, which obviously Val had used as an office. The studio was compact, nicely furnished and well kept, with a fantastic view from the large living room.

‘I think I’d like to go now,’ I said after a short time. ‘I’ll come back another day, Harry. I certainly don’t feel like poking around in cupboards and opening drawers. It would seem like an intrusion. And I’m not up to it just yet.’

‘I understand completely,’ Harry answered. ‘Let’s go and have a drink somewhere, and then I’ll check in with Geoff in London, touch base with Yusuf. See what’s going on in the rest of the world.’

‘Lots of people killing people, if you want my guess,’ I said, sounding as gloomy as Cara.

T
he upstairs room at Harry’s Bar was large and comfortable and air-conditioned. And that’s where we ended up. The heat in the streets was unbearable by noon, and we craved coolness after walking all the way back to the piazza from Val’s studio.

I was slightly overwhelmed by everything I’d discovered in the last twenty-four hours. I needed time to think, sort out my emotions. At one moment, when Harry was talking to Geoff in London, I thought: Secrets. All families must have secrets. It can’t just be ours.

I sat back in the chair, and drank the entire glass of sparkling water, I was so thirsty. I looked across at Harry, sitting near a window, talking on his BlackBerry. Dad had been the same, always dealing with business, ever efficient, never neglectful. That’s why Global had been such a great success. Harry was on top of everything, knew where every photographer was and what they were doing.

Unrequited love, I thought. That was a real bummer. Well, it wasn’t really unrequited love, rather
unspoken love
, I decided. Mom might have guessed how Harry really felt about her, because she had been extremely bright, very intuitive. However, her heart had been taken by Tommy Stone the moment she met him; she had never looked at another man.

A long sigh escaped me. Life wasn’t easy, was it? I heard a voice at the back of my head. It was my mother’s, and she was talking to Cara: ‘Life is hard, it’s always been hard and it always will be,’ she had said, ‘and the important thing is to beat life at its own game.’

I wondered how you beat life at its own game. I had no idea, at least not at this moment. I wished Mom were here to tell me. I wished Mom were here, period.

Harry was heading across the room, and he appeared to be excited, his face animated. ‘More rebels winning in various areas of Tripoli! It looks as if Gaddafi’s loyalist troops are laying down their arms, quitting.’

‘Hey, Harry, that’s great. You just spoke to Yusuf?’

‘No, to Geoff. And he said to say hello, by the way, sends his best. I’m going to speak to Yusuf now. I’ll go back over there, the reception’s better.’

‘That’s fine. I’m just sitting here, trying to absorb everything that I’ve learned since you arrived in Venice. I could write a book about it all.’

Harry threw me an amused look, chuckling to himself as he hurried over to the window.

I drank some more water, and then picked up the menu for lunch. As my eyes roamed over it, I was so startled to see the date, I did a double take. It was Thursday 18 August. I could hardly believe it. The last few days had just flown by.

My mind went to Val, and I wondered about her life, what it had been like. I felt sad for her, and then brushed that feeling away. Perhaps she had been fulfilled. And she
had
chosen her life. Knowing Dad, I felt sure he would have supported her financially, if she’d wanted to keep me, and had been prepared to give up her career. I also was positive he would never have left Elizabeth. She was the love of his life. And I was the winner in the end, wasn’t I? I had had the best parents anyone could hope for. I had been blessed.

It was very generous of Val to make me her heir. My thoughts now strayed to the beautiful studio on the Grand Canal. Once the lawyers in New York and here in Venice had completed the last of the documents, I could take possession of the studio. Harry had told me this as we had walked back here.

In the meantime, I could go in and out as much as I wished, because I did own it and had the key. Did I want to keep the studio? To stay there occasionally? I wasn’t sure. I might miss the bolthole. That funny old place was full of memories, full of the past, full of my family. Well, there was no hurry. I would wait and see, make a decision later.

I knew I didn’t want to go back to the studio this week, to look around again. I wanted time to elapse. It had felt like an intrusion on Val’s privacy earlier this morning. Her death in Libya was far too close in time. Later, I would come back to Venice, perhaps in September, look at it again. It was truly beautiful, tasteful in every way, and it told me much about this woman who had played such an important role in my life. Without her, I would not have been here.

Harry strode over and handed me his BlackBerry. ‘Have a word with Yusuf, honey, he’s been asking for you.’

I took the phone, and exclaimed, ‘Yusuf, how are you?’

‘I’m great. And how’re you, my darling?’

‘Much better, rested, being well fed by Harry and enjoying that much-needed relaxation. I bet you miss me in that great big fancy suite. You do, don’t you?’

‘I always miss you, Serena. However, I gave up the Rixos suite the other day. It was far too big. Four rooms suddenly became available at the Corinthia Hotel, so I grabbed them for Zac, me and the lads. Much better. Also much cheaper.’ His chuckle echoed down the line.

‘Good for you,’ I said. ‘It looks as if things have started to change – the rebels are winning.’

‘That’s how it seems, but looks can be deceptive. The Gaddafi soldiers haven’t given up; there’s still fighting in many of the suburbs and other cities. But the rebel interim government, the National Transitional Council, appear to have their priorities well defined. Make no mistake, it continues to be a most dangerous place. I’m glad you’re out of here.’

‘So am I, Yusuf. Good talking to you, stay in touch. Do you want to speak to Harry again?’

‘Not at the moment. We’ll be having our usual evening chat later. So long, Serena.’ He clicked off.

I handed the BlackBerry to Harry, who was now seated at the table with me. ‘What do you think? Is it the endgame?’ I asked him.

‘Not just yet. The endgame of war will not play yet. The colonel lurks somewhere in the country, as do his sons. His cronies want to hold on to power. The army has not really surrendered yet. There’s continuous looting. Almost every man and boy has a gun in his possession. That spells danger. And everyone in the West is wondering if the National Transitional Council can run the country, function as a viable government. So, we’ll wait and see.’

‘It’s always the same, isn’t it? Anyway, it was nice to have a word with Yusuf, and thank God he moved everyone to the Corinthia. That suite at the Rixos was awful. I needed roller skates to get around.’

Harry chuckled, then asked, ‘Shall we stay here? Have a glass of wine or a Bellini, and order lunch later? Something light.’

‘I think so, it’s cool up here, and most of the posh tourists are downstairs. Who wants to drag around Venice in this heat? Not me.’

‘I agree.’ He poured himself a glass of sparkling water, and leaned back, eyeing me carefully. After a moment he said, ‘You didn’t ask Yusuf about Zac.’

‘No, because I haven’t heard from him – and anyway, he obviously wants to stick it out there in Libya, especially now with these sudden changes happening … he’ll be out there in the streets, seeking his iconic pictures.’

Harry gave me a knowing smile, and said, ‘Only too true.’

‘Can I ask you something, Harry?’

‘You know you can, certainly after yesterday and today … I have no secrets from you any more, Serena.’

‘You all stayed friends, didn’t you? Mom and Dad and you? With Val, that’s what I mean.’

‘Yes, we did, as a matter of fact.’

‘I’ve been wondering about that, obviously because of all those photographs in her studio. They do convey a continuing friendship. But why did you remain friendly with her?’

‘First of all, there was no animosity involved. Tommy, Elizabeth and Val were all in agreement about the situation, and what to do. How to handle it. Secondly, Elizabeth preferred it that way. She didn’t want Val to feel cut off or left out of the family. However, we saw less of Val after she married Jacques. Also, she had left Global during her pregnancy. She just never came back. It was for the best.’

‘That’s understandable,’ I said. ‘And what about Jacques Pelliter? She broke up with him for several years, didn’t she?’

‘Yes. Then they began to see each other again, when Jacques quit working as a war correspondent. Eventually she did marry him. Even though Great Aunt Dora didn’t approve of him.’