Page 24 of The Gathering Storm (Morland Dynasty #36)

‘Yeah, but it’s all good publicity. The leading man is perfect for Clark Gable – a big, swashbuckling, womanising bad-boy. The sort to get women swooning. And there’s a feisty female lead who stands up to him – the kinda spunky girl Norma Shearer plays.’

‘You’re thinking, if you get the rights, to borrow them?’

Al cocked his head. ‘I can read you like a book, Lennie my friend. You’re thinking of Rose for this O’Hara female.’

‘That’s the character’s name?’

‘Yeah, there’s an Irish father, rough as a dog’s arse, self-made man, and a la-di-da Southern aristo mother. Lead girl gets the looks from her ma and the spunk from her pa. Nice twist.’

‘It sounds like a good part for Rose,’ Lennie said.

Al narrowed his eyes. ‘If I’m right about this crap – and I’m never wrong – it’d be the making of her.

This is box-office gold.’ He did one of his rapid mood changes.

‘Or it’s a bankruptcy claim in waiting. Who knows?

’ He shrugged, pushing the proof across the desk.

‘Read it. Go on, take it – I got other copies. Let me know what you think. How’s Rose getting on? ’

‘She’s ready to work. Eager for it,’ said Lennie.

‘Divorce not done and dusted yet, is it?’ Al always knew these things.

‘We’re working on it. There’s no hurry, is there? They won’t close a rights deal before the book’s published, will they?’

‘Make sure she stays ready. Read the book. It’s gonna take a lot of dough. I’m gonna need committed investors. Think about it. This is gonna be big.’

Mrs Simpson barely waited for the butler to withdraw before bursting out, ‘I’m absolutely furious! That snake-in-the-grass Mary Kirk! She was always jealous of me because the boys liked me better than her – for all the money she spent on clothes.’

‘What’s she done?’ Emma asked. There were spots of colour in Wally’s usually pale cheeks, and her eyes were sparking.

‘I knew there was something fishy about this holiday. Why did she suddenly decide to come stay with me? And it’s been “Oh, it’s so lovely to be with you, Wally.

We don’t see each other often enough, Wally.

” The time and money I’ve lavished on that woman – theatre tickets, opera boxes, dinners at York House, weekends at the Fort!

She couldn’t hope to have that sort of access to royalty any other way.

And I’ve been trailing her round ancient monuments because she adores British history.

Of course, it wouldn’t be because Ernest likes all that sort of thing – of course not! ’

Emma began to have an inkling of where this was going. ‘What has she done?’ she asked again.

‘She’s having an affair with my husband , that’s what!’

‘Oh dear. Are you sure?’

‘She admits it. They both admit it. All those times he’s been over in New York on business, they were seeing each other – behind my back!

She seduced him when he was far from home and lonely.

He’d never have fallen for her meagre charms if I’d been around.

Now he says he wants to marry her. Now we can see what all that sudden divorce talk was about.

Not because he wanted me to choose between him and David – because he was choosing between me and Mary! ’

‘Oh, Wally, I’m so sorry,’ Emma said, seeing that she was close to tears. But she thought of Ernest and what had become a comfortless home, a wife who was no wife. She felt sorry for them both.

Wally looked up with stark eyes. ‘I’m nearly forty, Emma.

I didn’t start with money or position like some people.

’ Another dig, Emma supposed, at Mary Kirk – she hoped not at her .

‘I’ve had to make my own way in the world, and I’ve been through some pretty hard times, I can tell you.

I never knew any security until I married Ernest, and everything I’ve done, I’ve done for us , to give us a position in society and solid finances.

And now this ! Stabbed in the back by the two people closest to me. ’

She walked away to the window, and stood with her back to Emma for a moment. When she turned back, she was dry-eyed and composed. ‘Oh, well, I’ve always liked a challenge,’ she said, with a tight smile.

Emma didn’t like to mention the King just then. ‘What will you do?’ she asked.

‘Throw Mary out, first of all,’ Wally said briskly. ‘I told her to pack her bags and get out. She’s going to an hotel. But she let slip that Ernest is looking into the lease of a flat for her in Albion Gate.’

‘For both of them?’

‘No, I told him he has to keep up the appearance of respectability for the time being. Officially he still lives at Bryanston Court. Of course I can’t control who he sleeps with, but he has to be discreet, and at least play the devoted husband.

’ Her eyes moistened again, treacherously.

‘He said—’ She stopped to master her voice. ‘He said he wanted a child.’

‘Oh, Wally!’

She shook away the sympathy with a jerk of her head.

‘I told him he’s already got one, his kid by his first wife, Audrey.

Lives with her mother in New York, and precious little he seems to care about her .

He never sees her. But he said that was the point.

He wanted to have another child and do it right from the beginning.

And, of course, Mary’s at her last knockings as far as that goes, so they have to get on with it quickly if she’s to have any chance. So it’s back to the divorce.’

‘You’ll go along with it?’

‘How can I stop it? That would cause even more scandal. Ernest advised me to consult a lawyer. I suppose I’d better go see Monckton – he’s smart.’

‘But I thought David was using Monckton? You can’t use the same lawyer, Wally. That would look like collusion. When it goes to court, if the judge has any doubts, he won’t award the divorce, and that’s that.’

‘I’m just going to take advice from Monckton,’ she said impatiently. ‘Ask him to recommend someone. I may as well have the best attorney. David will pay.’

‘That’s another thing that had better not come out,’ Emma said.

‘He’s just a friend, trying to help a friend,’ Wally said, a trifle wearily.

Then she became brisk. ‘Now, I want you to put a date in your diary: the twenty-eighth of May. We’re having the Stanley Baldwins to dinner, and I want you there for moral support, because from what I hear they are horribly dull people.

Married forty years, six children, terribly religious.

She does all sorts of charity work with the Young Women’s Christian Association.

They have a theatre in their country home and put on family amateur dramatics – can you believe it? ’

Emma was concerned. ‘But is it wise? Introducing you to the Prime Minister is – well, it’s a political act, isn’t it? It could make things awkward.’

Wally shrugged. ‘David insists. He says it has to be done, that sooner or later his Prime Minister has to meet his future wife.’ She gave a taut smile. ‘You could say that was his proposal of marriage. He’s talked to everybody else about marrying me, but he’s never actually asked me.’

‘Did you say yes?’

‘Well, it wasn’t a question, it was a statement, so I didn’t say anything. We’ll see when the time comes. One step at a time. I’ll take legal advice, and we’ll go on from there.’

Polly had expected to feel excited when she left the shed at Southampton and saw the ship for the first time.

What she hadn’t expected was to feel lonely.

Queen Mary towered above her, with her black hull and white superstructure, the three huge chimneys, black with red caps, blocking out the sky.

Polly had already crossed the Atlantic twice on liners, but she had been younger then, with other things on her mind.

Now she looked at the massive indifference of the ship – an artefact, and yet, like all ships, seeming like a living thing – and felt too small, too lost, too alone.

For a foolish moment she wanted to go home.

But, urged on by the pressure of the porter behind her with her luggage, she mounted the gangplank to be welcomed by an officer on the look-out for her, and began to feel better.

And as a steward conducted her to her cabin, she was passed by a fashionably dressed woman who stared and cried out, ‘Polly Alexander? Is that really you?’

Polly stopped. ‘Agatha van Damme,’ she responded. It was a former client of hers, a member of the top circle of New York society. ‘It’s Polly Morland now. I reverted to my maiden name after Ren died.’

‘And you’re coming back to New York?’

‘Just for a visit,’ Polly said. She was about to explain her connection to Queen Mary , but Agatha rushed on.

‘My, that’s a cute outfit! Fashion hasn’t been the same since you left.

Remember that Egyptian-style evening gown you made for me?

Heaps of the old gang are aboard. You must promise me to come to my cocktail party tomorrow – I’m getting in early before everybody else thinks of the same thing.

What fun that we’ll all be meeting every day for five days!

It’s going to be a marvellous crossing.’

They parted to head to their cabins, and Polly felt comforted. Agatha was a fool, but completely without malice, and it was good to know other old friends were aboard. There was a wonderful smell of newness everywhere, and she looked forward to exploring all of the luxurious facilities.

One of the glories of crossing the Atlantic – perhaps the crowning moment – was going up on deck early in the morning of arrival and watching the Statue of Liberty slowly rise from the misty horizon of the sea, until her gilded torch caught the sun, and flashed its welcome to the world’s most exciting city.