Authors: Roberta Latow
He heard her tell the doctor her symptoms and saw the relief on her face when he responded. He heard her tell him, ‘I think I need a long rest. The Riviera seems to suit me.’ Then she laughed. ‘You are absolutely right, Dr Twining, I am a determined woman, I am stubborn, but now I’ve come to my senses. I will take the next few months off, do nothing but enjoy myself. Yes, I know I should have done that in the first place. Yes, I will call you in a few days to let you know where I’ve settled, if you insist.’ She put the phone down and turned to Axel.
‘Well, how would you like to go house hunting this afternoon, to rent, not to buy? Dr Twining thinks I need a long holiday. My symptoms tell him that my body and my mind need more time to heal and this time I shall follow his advice.’
Dr Twining found Candia Van Buren a difficult but interesting patient. When he received her call from France, he was relieved that she had at last understood that she needed complete rest. This was the call he had been waiting for for months. A breakthrough to the past was what was needed for his patient’s full recovery, and those little windows that had opened for her, however briefly, were, he felt, the first steps towards that recovery. His fervent hope was that she would understand that every fleeting vision she had was a clue to concentrate on, to build on until she had enough clues to trigger her memory into total recall of those lost years.
Robert Twining was not a man who put much store in the paranormal, divine intervention, the magic or the mysteries of life. He believed in timing and coincidence. Only that morning he had spent an hour on the telephone with Luke Greenfield, a doctor he admired greatly. He was rather puzzled when Greenfield told him that he learned last evening that he had a patient called Candia Van Buren and wished to come to the city as soon as possible to discuss her. Things became clearer when he identified himself as Candia’s husband. Twining told him about her condition when she was brought into the hospital, her treatment during her stay there and her state of mind when she returned to England. Then Greenfield said, ‘I believe I have a great deal of information about my wife that might be relevant to her regaining those lost years. I would like to see you today if that’s possible.’
First Greenfield then Candia’s phone call. Things seemed to be coming together for his patient. He could not, of course, say anything about Luke Greenfield to her. It would only cause her more anxiety to be told she had a husband whom she simply could not remember. Twining was convinced that she had to be the one to tear away the veil hiding her lost years.
He put his most interesting patient out of his mind and went to do his rounds. Two hours later when he returned to his office he found Luke Greenfield waiting for him.
Luke liked Robert Twining. He also liked the way Twining was handling Candia’s case and felt that it could only help matters if he knew about Candia as Jessica and the years her memory had lost.
‘First of all, Dr Twining,’ he said, ‘I’d like to ask you whether you suggested counselling to Candia.’
‘Look, let’s put this on a first name basis. Mine is Robert.’
‘Luke. Call me Luke.’
Robert Twining nodded. ‘Yes, I did try to talk your lady into counselling, but she wouldn’t have it. She told me that she preferred just one doctor delving into her health and none at all into her past. She had every faith that I would do the best for her and that was enough. She took the attitude that it was all she could do to get the present going for her again.’
‘That certainly sounds like Jessica, I mean Candia. I’ll have to get used to calling her by her correct name. Now, what I am about to tell you is personal, things I would not normally reveal to anyone and am only doing so to you because I believe that the facts will help you restore my wife to me. I expect them to be treated with the utmost confidentiality.’
‘That should go without saying, Luke.’
‘Yes, of course. I hope you’re not offended.’
‘From a distraught husband who wants his wife back? Of course not.’
‘I think I should preface this bizarre story by telling you how and when I met Candia Van Buren.’
Luke began by telling Robert how she had simply materialised in Newbampton claiming to be suffering from amnesia. That he had come to the conclusion that her loss of memory was a device to enable her to leave her past behind her and remain a private person. How he had respected that, had never pressed her to reveal anything, nor pushed her into loving him until she was ready to do so on her own terms, and that when she did come to him it was to marry him.
‘And now she really does have amnesia,’ said Robert who was obviously astonished by the story of Candia Van Buren.
‘A case of poetic justice that I could have lived happily ever after without,’ remarked Luke.
‘From what you tell me she was happy in her marriage. As much in love with you as you were with her. The sexual side of your relationship, was that as successful?’
‘Without going into detail, yes, it was a very important part of our life together.’
‘Well, that’s good news.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because her marriage to you is, I believe, still there in the recesses of her mind, and if it was a happy one in all respects she’ll be more likely to wrestle through to get back to it – unless she finds someone just like you who can replace you.’
‘Do you think that’s likely?’
‘Who can say? But the last thing she remembers is running away from a man she was deeply afraid of and —’
‘Don’t tell me any more,’ interrupted Luke. ‘Whatever I learn about her past has to come from her. We owe that to each other. Her secrets must remain
her
secrets.’
‘I understand,’ said Robert. ‘That you found me now is fortuitous. She called this afternoon. There are some signs, very slight, but signs nevertheless, that her memory might be waking up. She’s had a couple of flashbacks, an empty
swing in an apple orchard, a very glamorous gown with a jacket made of spider webs.’
‘My house is set in an apple orchard, the swing has an old wooden plank for a seat. The gown was my first gift to her, worn on our first date. I knew she would never have left me willingly, any more than I could leave her.’
‘I suppose the next question is what can we do to help her regain her memory.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Luke. This was now the priority in his life.
‘The answer is, nothing for the moment. She called me from St Paul de Vence. She has decided that she has done too much too soon and she intends to find a place on the Riviera and take a long holiday. She will call me when she has settled in, which should be in a few days. Let’s just give her some time to herself and hope more windows to the past open for her. When enough have and she is actively working at solving the meaning of them, I think that’s the time to place some people from her lost four years before her and for you to find a way to get close to her but without revealing your past relationship with her. Maybe in a month or two. I know you’re a very busy man. Go back to Newbampton and see if you can arrange to get away for a month or two to be near her wherever she is. We’ll stay in close touch and I’ll let you know where she is as soon as she calls.’
Luke returned to Newbampton and reported all he had learned to Bridget. They both agreed to keep the news to themselves. And Luke put into motion plans to get away from the hospital for a few months, ostensibly to write some articles for the
American Journal of Medicine
in the south of France.
Axel Winwood was in love, Candia Van Buren was smitten. But they were not together, he was away from Juan-les-Pins on business in Los Angeles, she was staying at his house until she could find one to rent. There were many to choose from because it was off season but they all seemed either
too big or too small. Then one day while having lunch on the terrace of Axel’s house she noticed among a thicket of Mediterranean trees what looked like a small Greek temple. She assumed it was a rich man’s folly. As indeed it had been long ago, Olivier the butler told her.
‘That, madam, is where the Contessa Andreana Braga Volpe lives. It’s a most eccentric and interesting house.’
‘Then you’ve been inside?’ asked Candia.
‘Many times, madam. She calls on my services often. She is a very young ninety-one, her servants old and frail. There will be chaos there for the next few days, she’s packing for her season in Palm Beach in America and they say she’s very fussed because she’s found no one to house-sit for her in her absence.’
‘You must call and see if I can rent it from her until she gets back. Please do that for me, Olivier.’
An hour later the two women met and the Contessa, a character bigger than life, a faded beauty of many generations of wealthy Italian aristocrats, agreed to rent the house to Candia. Three days later Candia moved in. It was perfect, just what she wanted, not too large, not too small, five large rooms on a single level in a white marble Greek temple with columns on all four sides of it. It overlooked the sea and had a flight of wooden steps down to a small beach and a wooden dock where the Contessa kept her motor launch. The Temple was reached by a dirt road that led off through the pines from the paved road to the more grand houses such as Axel’s on the small peninsula jutting into the sea.
The interior smelled of attar of roses from the bowls of potpourri scattered through the rooms. It was a house of oriental carpets and Directoir furniture, marble and mirrors and glass walls hung with white diaphanous fabric. Collections of rare shells and semi-precious stones covered tables, Greek urns of glazed black and terracotta, museum pieces, their classic designs breathtakingly beautiful, sat
casually everywhere. Rare books were piled on tables and stacked on the floor. It was quite mad and wonderful and in its own way immaculate, with everything having its proper place so that it could be appreciated fully.
A standing order of white lilies arrived every week whether or not the Contessa was in residence. They were arranged in huge crystal vases surrounded by pieces of rare and beautiful Roman glass. And then there were the birds: several peacocks roamed around the Temple, and dozens of canaries had been trained to live and sing in a tree near the Contessa’s bedroom. In the house, a white cockatoo sat on its perch. A miniature horse wandered in and out of the house, four greyhounds and two Russian wolfhounds draped themselves lazily on every settee and chair in the place.
The gardener-cum-zoo keeper and a chauffeur-cum-boatman lived together in a charming tiny wooden gatehouse up by the gates which were rarely closed. The zoo keeper, a man in his forties, seemed too cultured, too elegant, too devoted to the Contessa to be anything but a former lover; the other man, Alfredo, was many years younger and kept them all laughing and on their toes.
Candia was enchanted by the idea of living in this rarefied and eccentric world that seemed to her to be some sort of an adult’s Disneyland. The Contessa took her house servants with her to Palm Beach, all except the cleaner who appeared every day with the morning croissants. Candia considered taking on a cook, but decided she could very well shop and cook for herself since she had no thought of entertaining in the Temple.
The very first night in the house Candia fell asleep in the Contessa’s bed and dreamed about Rose Cottage. It was a lovely dream and on waking it lingered with her. It had been a long time since she had sent something for the house that she had still never seen. No, she decided, this was to be a lazy holiday. No shopping for antiques, no hassles like
shipping things. This was a time to play tennis, sail, find an indoor pool to swim in – me time. And men. It was true, shedding Pierre and all he stood for in her life, meeting and having fun with a man like Axel, had rekindled her interest in men, as against sex.
Axel called her every day and they had long conversations on the telephone. And with each call she felt closer to him. He sent several friends round to take her out, and they arranged for her to become a member of their exclusive tennis club. By the time Axel returned, she had a small group of friends who were frequent visitors to the Temple.
The building had a surreal quality about it which was heightened by the many ornate gilt-framed mirrors that hung against the glass walls. They reflected the rooms again and again, and Candia. She saw herself everywhere. And incredibly, the more she saw herself reflected in those mirrors, the happier she felt. It was as if she was seeing the many Candias that she was and accepting what she saw.
One morning a few days after she had moved in, one of those little windows in her mind opened. She saw herself surrounded by many dresses and she sensed overwhelming contentment, the same happiness she was feeling here in Juan-les-Pins. Then the window closed and she came back to herself. Later that day she phoned Dr Twining to tell him where she was, that the headaches were still coming and going, as were her little visions. They agreed on a consultation every three weeks unless she was not feeling as well as she had been.
Axel returned and the first night they were together she realised that she was falling in love with him. The Temple was too bizarre for him and so they spent the evening at his house, talking late into the night. They were interested in each other and what had happened in their lives since they had been parted, and with every hour that passed Candia gave in a little bit more to loving Axel.
‘It’s three in the morning and I want to make love to you,’ he told her as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her gently, sweetly.
‘Good. I’d like to make love to you too,’ she told him.
They left the library and started up the staircase, his arm wrapped round her waist, undressing each other as they went and leaving a trail behind them: her scarf, his belt, her blouse, his jumper, his shoes, her high heels.
Before they entered his room, he took her in his arms and they kissed. The gentleness in his kissing turned to passion. There was something fierce and urgent in the desire they had for each other. They were both aware of it. They were mature lovers who understood what their libidos demanded and they trusted each other enough to give themselves over totally to sex that would sate them. That was what they wanted, to exhaust themselves in orgasm after orgasm, to bathe in their lust for each other.
Axel took pride in his sexual prowess, and when he was with a woman who demanded that he take advantage of her with it, he surpassed himself. The moment he caressed her naked flesh, licked it, had a taste of Candia in his mouth, he understood that she was an even more sensuous creature than he had imagined she was. She was alive with lust for the erotic life, a woman who had been trained to enjoy every aspect of her sexuality. His passion rose to please her, bring her on in a stream of orgasms until he had exhausted her and she begged him to stop, thus allowing him to love her.