He didn’t tell his mother what he planned to do. He knew she’d advise against it. He confided in Julius instead. The lawyer was delighted to be part of his plan and gave him Phaedra’s telephone numbers and address without hesitation, then took it upon himself to ring Phaedra to warn her.
Phaedra was horrified. “He’s coming here?” she exclaimed.
“I gave him your address,” Julius replied calmly.
“Why? I don’t want to see any of them again. Ever. I’m moving back to Paris right away, Julius. I don’t want to be entangled in this mess.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. This is what we agreed, Phaedra. This is what you wanted, for George’s sake.”
“Not anymore. I felt such a beast, barging in on them the day of his funeral. It was so embarrassing. I can’t face them again. Tell him not to come.”
“It’s too late. He’s probably already on his way.”
“Then I’ll leave right now. I’m all packed up.”
“Phaedra, calm down,” he soothed. Julius took great pride in his people skills. “Listen to me: George loved you—he proved that by leaving you those very valuable jewels in his will. He wanted to look after you forever. Besides, you said you didn’t have a family. Well, now you do.”
“I want a family who wants me, Julius.”
“Why do you think David’s driving all the way to London? Do you think he’d bother if they didn’t want you? You told me that Lady Frampton telephoned you personally to invite you for the weekend. Do you think she would have done that if she didn’t want to see you again? They’re reaching out to you, Phaedra, which is astonishing, considering the circumstances. I think the very least you can do is graciously accept their invitation.”
“Tell them I’ve got cold feet.”
“Then have a hot bath.”
“Really, you’re absurd!” She laughed in spite of herself.
“That’s better. Now, take a deep breath and think about what you’re going to say. The least you can do is repay their generosity with gratitude.”
* * *
It was six o’clock in the evening when David rang the bell at number 19 Cheyne Row. The narrow street was hidden away like a secret, lost in a maze of one-way lanes and prettily painted town houses between the King’s Road and Chelsea Embankment. In spite of the shadow cast by the Catholic church opposite, the setting sun found its way onto the damp pavements where a dog walker was being dragged across the tarmac by a pack of five eager hounds.
Phaedra’s residence was small and eccentric, having been converted into a home from an old fire station. The door was cut into a large wooden arch where the fire engine once used to drive in and out, and above, a wide window consumed the whole of the first-floor wall. The light was on inside, but no one answered. David pressed the bell again.
At last the door opened tentatively, and Phaedra’s pale face peered through. She feigned surprise. “David, what are you doing here?”
The sight of her made his heart inflate with happiness. “I need to talk to you.”
“Really? Well, you’d better come in, then.” She opened the door wide, and David stepped into a small hallway dominated by a spiral staircase built around the original fire pole.
“This is a great house,” he said, taking it all in.
“Isn’t it? It’s so quirky. I love it.” She closed the door and showed him into a surprisingly spacious kitchen/sitting room that led out into a little garden where a couple of finches were busily pecking at a bird feeder suspended from a tree. He noticed a large suitcase on the floor and a coat draped across the sofa.
“Are you going somewhere?” he asked.
“Paris. It’s where I live. I’ve only been here for a month, house-sitting for a friend.”
“Oh, I thought you lived here.”
“No, home is Paris. I’m leaving tomorrow.”
David fought his disappointment. “Then I’m intruding . . .”
Phaedra felt bad. After all, he’d come all the way from Hampshire. “Can I make you a cup of tea?” she offered. “I know you Brits love tea.”
He smiled. “We do, but I’d prefer coffee.”
“Okay, I can do that, too. Cappuccino, espresso . . .”
“Black, please.”
“Of course: this machine is genius.” She began to fuss about it with a little carton of coffee and a big blue cup. “Why don’t you sit down?”
David pulled out a bright-red lacquered spindle-back chair. There were three others in blue, green, and purple. A rose-scented candle burned in the center of the table, which was strewn with photographs.