Wings of the Morning Read online

  ‘You’re a lovely man, Mark Bushell, and you have often lectured me in this very room. But now it’s my turn. That apartment isn’t my home. Never was and never will be, but it has been a safe and precious haven in which I was lucky to spend a little time with a man whom I respected enormously. The truth is that I borrowed him from his first wife and I’ve been living in the home those two made together. I loved your brother, Mark, but that was the basis for our love and mutual regard. He saved me, and thanks to you and here,’ she gestured with both arms around the room in which they sat, ‘I was able to bring him some contentment. In every way.’

  Mark looked up at her sharply.

  ‘Yes, even physically, from time to time.’

  Her eyes flirted with him as she spoke, and Mark let out a guffaw of delighted laughter.

  ‘And I know,’ said Alexa laughing with him, ‘that you’ve been just longing to ask.’

  They sat smiling at each other before Alexa resumed with a furrow of concentration on her brow.

  ‘Now for your other point, the one about money. I really don’t need it. Peter left me a great deal and anyway it’s time for me to move on and start earning my living again. You know that I used to work in European banking and I‘ve been getting my act back together. Now I’ve got the offer of a proper job which will get me back on track and I want to take it. I need the challenge. I’m still only thirty-three after all.’ And looking five years younger, despite all she’s been through, thought Mark, but he said nothing. He waited for Alexa to continue.

  She said, ‘I’m not going to make a speech, Mark, and I want to keep this short. But you see, I know just how much I owe to you personally. I was incredibly lucky to come into your care when I arrived as a broken shell of a girl in Sydney seven years ago. It’s possible I might have survived physically, but I would never have emerged again from some form of institution without you. I can’t ever repay that. Not really. I can say a pretty thank you and I hope I can convince you of what I know you accomplished, even though I can’t start to explain how you did it. Actually, I’m not sure that you could answer that yourself.’

  He nodded, ‘Well Jeez,’ he lapsed into his Ocker speak to cover his embarrassment, ‘you were one shagged out Sheila, and a guinea pig to boot. There wasn’t much left to lose when we started out together.’

  ‘That’s my point, Mark. There are plenty more shagged out sheilas crying out for your therapy, but most can’t find you and more can’t afford to stay. I want you to use this bonanza from Double Bay. Set up a Trust, form a Charity, take counsel but just do it. Use this money to do what you are uniquely qualified to achieve. I know that you can, and I want you to promise me here and now that you will. Please.’

  The silence between them seemed to last for an eternity as Mark stared into her eyes, just as he had done during all the months of her therapy when he wanted to understand or to make his point of the hour. The difference now was that it was she in the driving seat. Finally, Mark, dropped his gaze and sat back heavily into his chair, folding his arms over his chest.

  ‘Anything else,’ he said simply, and then with a slight grin, ‘any instructions or conditions?’

  Alexa gave her special, warm smile in return.

  ‘Only two. Call it ‘the Peter Bushell Foundation’, and put a little blue plaque in reception downstairs. I think he’d like that.’

  ‘And will you come and do an opening speech?’

  ‘I will,’ and then a long pause before she finished with her news, ‘but you’ll have to send me a bit of warning. You see, Mark, this new job. It’s not here in Sydney. It’s in Hong Kong, and I’m starting in a month or so. It’s time to go.’

  Mark smiled as he rose to his feet and opened his arms to her. Alexa moved into his embrace and he enfolded her in a great bear hug.

  It was May Day 1977 when Alexa flew into Paris. She had left quietly, spending her final week in a hotel while she completed the arrangements which she referred to wryly as her ‘premature change of life’. The night before she flew, she gave a relaxed supper party at The Works, a Woolahra restaurant which had been a favourite of Peter’s. Her best friends in Sydney were there, the management provided champagne and Mark gave an impromptu little speech which had them laughing and crying. Alexa insisted on taking a cab to the airport the following day, and naturally, she flew Qantas. Someone wangled her an upgrade, and it was from a first class window seat that she looked her last on the Harbour. She knew she would be back, but never returning home.

  Alexa was touched that her brother Bernard had come up especially from Toulouse to welcome her at Paris Charles de Gaulle airport, which had been opened recently. Alexa was duly impressed with its hub design, but she was glad to be guided away by Bernard to her parents’ Paris apartment which overlooked the Bois de Boulogne. It was an emotional time, and also exhausting. There were many friends and relatives to see. Alexa tried to be vivacious and engaged, but she found the whole process of reintegration to be exacting and she was surprised by her difficulty in starting to think in French. She was happy to be in Paris again, especially in the magic month of May, nevertheless she was relieved when her mother proposed a move to the country and they drove down to the small chateau estate outside Limoges.

  There had been time for relaxation with her parents and Alexa was able to lay some ghosts to rest. They talked long into some of those summer nights, not just of her experiences, but going further back to the time when Michel had been lost to them, and the effect which this tragedy had produced in Alexa herself. It was good and therapeutic conversation, as much for Joffrey and Elizabeth as herself. She felt the presence of Mark Bushell at her side, encouraging her to speak out about the isolation she had felt when they had been so obsessed with the fate of Michel as to have no time left for his younger siblings. When she spoke of this, her parents were wounded by the rebuke and squirmed before the account of her feelings. They still struggled to acknowledge the cause and effect which contributed to her leaving the tracks of family involvement.

  By the end of May, there was little left unsaid and Alexa knew that further analysis of the past would likely result in resentments which could not be expunged. It was time to finish the chapter and close the book. She found herself looking for the opportunity to move forward into a new era. It was at just this point that providence provided the answer.

  THE OXFORD FIVE — 1977

  Alexa had a phone call from Tepee. She and Alexa kept in close touch and now she was ringing to say that by happy chance, four of the old Oxford team were going to be in London, and surely Alexa was close enough to make it five. David Heaven was taking a break from his travelling, Pente Broke-Smith was between ministries, Connie was of course with her and King Offenbach was anyway London based.

  Still better, there was an obvious date around which to base plan a reunion. Tuesday the 7th June was the opening day for celebrations in London to mark the Silver Jubilee of The Queen, and David seized this opportunity to entertain his best friends, inviting them to inspect his firm’s offices at 100 Piccadilly. From there, they could saunter across Green Park to mingle with the crowds outside Buckingham Palace. They might catch a glimpse of Her Majesty setting out for St Paul’s Cathedral in the gold State Coach and afterwards, they would make their way back to a lunch in the Kirchoff & Son eyrie with its panoramic views over the Park.

  Alexa was delighted with the prospect. It would be fun anyway, but it also gave a perfect reason for making a gentle break from her parents for ten days or so. She loved London, and would see other friends and do some shopping whilst over there. Then back to the peaceful countryside of France until early August when she had a flight booked to take her to Hong Kong where she would have plenty of time to make her contacts and settle in before she started her new job at the beginning of September.

  At that late stage, it was not easy to get a plane ticket to Heathrow, and practically impossible to find a hotel room in London. She managed both, however, by persistence with the
first and by spending a grotesque sum on the second. But it was worth it. Peter had been an ardent Royalist, and she salved her shame at spending so much in the sure knowledge that he would have loved to see her turning heads as she swept into the Dorchester to claim her reservation. That was on the Monday, and she spent a quiet evening revelling in the luxury and slept expensively well.

  In the morning, Conrad and Tepee arrived to have breakfast with her in the smart restaurant. Afterwards, they left Connie reading the paper in the hotel’s smoking room while they went up to Alexa’s room, partly to get ready for the day before them, but mostly so that Tepee could get an eyeful of the luxuries with which the famous hotel pampered its guests.

  ‘How are the children?’ Alexa wanted to know.

  ‘Very good. The boys are enjoying this bonus holiday and staying with their great mates who live just down the road from us.’

  ‘So what have you done with my god daughter?’

  ‘Oh, Camilla’s happy, that’s for sure. She’s a bit further away, but loves to spend time with this little girl called Laura who’s at school with her. The whole outing is a bit of a treat because that means Connie and I will be home alone tonight, and that doesn’t happen any too often these days.’ She arched an eyebrow at Alexa.

  ‘Are you two going to try for any more?’ Alexa switched into French to pose her question and Tepee paused to blow out her cheeks before replying.

  ‘It so nearly happened — about two years ago. I had a miscarriage, at about six or seven weeks.’ Her eyes clouded at the unhappy memory.

  ‘Aaah. You poor, poor thing. How wretched for you both. Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Honestly, Alexa, it’s amazing the things you and I discuss over the phone but I thought I’d keep that to myself until we could see each other. I was wondering how to bring the subject up, and there ... you put your finger on it immediately!’

  They smiled at each other and Tepee went on.

  ‘If you’re still OK to come and stay for a few days before you go back home, I’ll tell you more, but for now, well I don’t think it’s likely we’ll have another. Before, we weren’t doing anything to stop one appearing, but it’s different now. Connie wants the boys to go into boarding school in a year or so. That’s a huge commitment and I know he’s worried. The Bastion business is going well, but it’s still early days.’ She finished with a Gallic shrug.

  ‘They really are his children, aren’t they.’ It was a statement.

  ‘Yes they are. We never think of them as anything else.’

  Tepee gave her trademark slanting smile, peeping from behind the cascade of jet black hair.

  Alexa returned to English, saying ‘Come on. Let’s finish tarting ourselves up and we’ll go out and take the place by storm. We’ll have plenty more time to gossip.’

  On their return to find Conrad still immersed in his Times, the girls looked like two million dollars on the hoof and set the Doorman, resplendent in his top hat, wondering what it was that this quiet looking Englishman had about him.

  David Heaven’s reunion party turned rapidly into a rollicking celebration.

  They met on the pavement of Piccadilly and they lost each other from time to time as they meandered through the huge crowds enjoying the spectacle and the sunshine. They caught a glimpse of the procession in the Mall before returning to No. 100 where the true partying commenced.

  David insisted on showing them the main working floor of Kirchoff & Son, empty on that special holiday. Then they trooped up the stairs to the meeting room under the eaves of the building, offering plenty of room for this gathering and blessed with its stunning view over the trees of Green Park, sporting their full canopies at this stage of the summer. Waiting there for them were Sol, Martin and Ruth.

  It wasn’t an occasion for introductions. Those who had not met before knew enough of each other to fall into instant conversation. Informality ruled. David and Ruth were responsible for the picnic lunch which defied its name. Spread out on the long table under the windows was a feast to tempt every palette. It was all self service with a huge smile.

  They were interrupted by newcomers. It had been Connie’s idea to introduce his business partner. Roger Mantel couldn’t be there, but compensation came from the appearance of Sebastien and Izzy, who made a typical entrance with his physical presence matched by her fizzing personality.

  Tepee gave a cry of surprised delight and rushed to greet them, admonishing her husband for keeping their arrival secret from her. Connie beamed from ear to ear.

  David detached himself from conversation with Pente and went forward to meet the Mantels. They exchanged warm greetings: they had heard much about each other.

  Pente stepped forward to add his welcome and his huge feet became entangled. His vast frame, swathed in its monk’s habit crashed into Sebastien’s similarly impressive bulk.

  ‘Zut, I have caught a warring priest,’ cried Seb in the heavily accented speech which he knew the English expected of a proper Frenchman.

  ‘Hah!’ retorted Pente as he recovered himself, ‘you look like an established sinner. Come and have a few beers of repentance with me!’

  The two giants, dwarfing all others in the room, ambled towards the serving table, talking as they went. No problem with those two getting on, David thought to himself as he prised Izzy from Tepee’s grasp and established what she would have to drink.

  And so the party partied. The company swirled, the talk unceasing, the laughter infectious. Plates were piled and glasses brimmed. They sat to eat at various pieces of incongruous furniture, pressed into service for the occasion. Seb and Connie made out well with a filing cabinet and two office chairs. Ruth and Tepee were dainty on a sofa until Pente plonked himself between them to risk a major upset. Sol flitted between groups like a hummingbird. Izzy, with her gift for easy talk and extracting information, cornered Martin into sitting on a low bookcase as they exchanged life stories. David was benign and busy with bottles. Alexa was happy to find herself next to King Offenbach on a couple of huge wing chairs with a coffee table in front of them. He was just as she remembered him from their Oxford days, and briefly, at her wedding in Sydney. Slim, lounging, elegant: beautifully turned out, if a little formal in an immaculate double breasted dark suit.

  ‘I want information, King,’ she began and he gave his familiar, enigmatic smile as the fork stopped in mid-air. Alexa went on.

  ‘You know a lot more about what I’ve been up to over the years than I know about you. Now’s your chance, and I don’t want to hear too much about the spy stuff,’ she laughed as she waved a finger at him, ‘but thank you anyway for all you did for me.’

  King put down his plate as he turned to face her.

  ‘There’s nothing more to say about all that now, and sure, there’s not much I should say about what I’m doing now. Hell, it’s not too exciting anyway. But I’m real glad to see you again, Alexa, looking and sounding like you are. You’ve been through a whole lot, and you’ve done so well. And hey, congratulations on the new job. David brought me up to speed and it does sound great. Hong Kong too — what a place for a new start.’

  Alexa drank some wine and looked at him with mock severity.

  ‘You’re not going to divert me as easily as that, Mr Offenbach! Now tell me about you. When are we going to see you settle down a bit and stop playing the field: and at your age too!’

  He laughed with her, saying ‘not that old yet and not quite over the hill although the view’s getting a mite scary: forty this year.’

  ‘Wow! Is that really right? Well take some comfort. You look a lot less and with everything to play for. But now tell me honestly, King, has there ever been anyone serious for you?’

  ‘I don’t generally speak of it, but hey, Alexa, no reason for you not to know I did get close once: was even engaged to get hitched, but it didn’t work out. It was more my fault than hers.’

  Alexa clunked down her glass in frustration. Getting information out of this man was
like pulling hens’ teeth, and she told him so.

  King smiled wryly and pulled himself out of his lounging posture to continue.

  ‘Look, Alexa, it happened this way. She was a fine girl from my Mom’s home town and we courted for maybe a couple of years. I wanted to delay our wedding ’till I had things properly settled over here but that meant a whole lot of being apart. We got scratchy with each other over the phone, she resented still living with her folks, complaining it was all fine and dandy and playing around for me. You can imagine.’ He flashed a question mark at Alexa.

  ‘I certainly can. It’s not a great way for a girl to plan her marriage and I bet her friends were saying she couldn’t hold onto her guy.’

  King looked amazed. ‘You reckon that. Honest?’

  Alexa couldn’t help but laugh at him.

  ‘Kingston Offenbach. I know you’re one bright fellow, but on subjects like this, you’re like any man. An emotional dullard.’

  To take the sting out of her remark, she leant forward to kiss his cheek, smiling as she did so, and he responded,

  ‘Yup. I guess you’re right. Right about all of it.’

  ‘And there’s been no one since?’

  He smiled at her, ‘a few playmates maybe, but nothing serious. No. Not that. And you know, I don’t think there ever will be. I guess I’m a very self-sufficient sort of guy. Plus, it doesn’t help that I do a job which encourages me to stay ... well sort of private you might say.’

  Alexa looked up to see Pente weaving an uncertain path towards them and knew that these two soul mates would want to spend some time together.

  ‘You know, King,’ she said rising gracefully to her feet, ‘you may just be right and for myself, you strike a particular chord. I don’t think that I’ll be falling in love either,’ and she smiled wistfully at him as she turned away, ‘but now I must get to the loo which David tells me is downstairs. I’ll leave you to Pente for a bit.’