Last Dance with Valentino

‘I mean to say . . . are you miserable, Papa? You look quite miserable to me.’

‘Never been happier, Lola, my love! What about you? Do you like it in your new home? How do you find America?’

I told him I liked it very much, which was almost true, and his shoulders seemed to droop a little.

‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘Excellent. Yes, it is. Rather splendid. Isn’t it?’

I agreed that it was, and then we fell silent.

‘She’s terribly lovely, you know,’ he said.

I sighed. ‘Oh, Papa . . . ’

‘I know you probably think she’s—’ he began.

‘No, I don’t. I don’t think anything, Papa.’

‘Don’t you?’ He seemed disappointed. He looked at me and smiled. ‘Nonsense. Tell me, Lola. What do you think?’

I hesitated. But not for terribly long because, of course, I was itching to tell him. ‘Well, Papa,’ I said, ‘if you’re sure you want to hear. Since you have asked me, I will tell you. Actually I think she is—’

‘Oh, God!’ He ran both hands through his hair, and kept them there – half humorous, half not so humorous. Half desperate, I think. ‘Actually. Second thoughts, old girl. Don’t tell me! Don’t want to hear! Shouldn’t have asked.’

But by then it was too late. I couldn’t stay silent. ‘Papa, I see you getting thinner,’ I persisted. ‘You have lost weight. Have you noticed it? You have lost weight, and you look so wretched half the time—’

‘I can see you’re not taken with her. But the thing is—’

‘The thing is, Papa—’

‘I am absolutely head over heels in love with her.’

‘No, that isn’t it. The thing is, Papa—’

‘Don’t want to hear it. Don’t want to hear!’

‘Why? Because you know it already! You know quite well what I’m going to say!’

‘Know what? I know nothing of the kind.’

‘She is exploiting you, Papa. She is using you for her own ends.’

‘Using me? Using me!’ He laughed aloud. ‘But I am perfectly useless!’

‘Because – Papa, you can’t be completely unaware of— I mean to say, for reasons of her own, Papa, you are not uppermost – by which I mean Rudy – that is, Mr Guglielmi . . . ’

‘Rudy? Rudy? Ha!’

‘Mr Guglielmi . . . ’

‘I see I should have been keeping a better eye on you, my friend . . . ’

‘She has him hanging about the house, while the two of you are— Oh, God! She wants him to go to the divorce court for her, so she can take Jack with her back to Chile, and Mr de Saulles, who loves the child so much better than she – he will never see the poor boy again.’

‘Yes! And I have said I would do it for her!’

It silenced me. Silenced us both.

My dear, darling father had the grace to look at least a little shamefaced. ‘I thought we might all go to Chile together,’ he muttered. ‘Don’t you think, Lola? Sweetheart? Jack and his mother, and you and me? You seem to get on so well with the boy. Don’t you think? It might be rather fun.’

I said nothing.

‘In any case,’ he said at last, ‘she has refused it.’

‘Of course she has refused it. Because she doesn’t love you, Papa. She doesn’t love anyone but herself. Or if she loves anyone but herself, she loves Mr Guglielmi. But the truth is, she loves no one but herself. She is a horrid, horrid woman.’

He stood up. Full of silly, wounded dignity. ‘Well, Lola, sweetest, I’m very sorry you feel that way.’

‘I only wish you could see it. The thing is, I believe you can.’

‘I should never have called on you.’

‘Oh, Papa,’ I cried, ‘yes, you should! I wish you would call on me more often. You have no idea how happy I am you have come – don’t walk out now! I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said – only you asked me, and I worry for you – and then you mentioned going to Chile, as if that were a sensible idea, with that dreadful, selfish, wicked woman, and I’m sorry I couldn’t stop myself . . . Papa?’

‘Darling,’ he said, ‘it doesn’t matter.’ He stopped at the door and turned back to look at me. ‘I forgive you.’

‘For what?’ I cried.

But he was gone.

I had lain awake all that night, worrying for him. And then morning had come and, with it, the arrival of Rudy and all the appalling noises from her tower boudoir . . . Rudy and I had wandered into the house – it was too cold to stay out – and were in the nursery with Jack, more careless together than usual, because Mr Hademak had taken the auto on some errand for his mistress.

Mrs de Saulles had crept in as Rudy and I were lying side by side on the floor, with the miniature toy circus in front of us. We were deep in conversation. Jack, it so happened, was sitting quite absorbed in his story book, in the nursery’s furthest corner, and Rudy and I were laughing. He had a hand on my forearm, and he was telling me something lovely. He was telling me . . .

He was telling me he thought I was beautiful. There. I have written it. He had never said it before, and I was laughing because it was such a wonderful thing for him to say. And he was laughing because I was laughing.

That was when Mrs de Saulles wandered in. The one and only time I ever saw her in the nursery. She didn’t say anything, and Rudy only slowly removed his hand. He looked up at her as she stood there, still as stone.

‘Mrs de Saulles,’ he said, with the smallest smile. ‘You are ready to dance?’

‘To dance?’ she said, her voice low and expressionless. ‘I shouldn’t think so. I wasn’t aware that you were here, Mr Guglielmi.’

‘No?’ He sounded unconvinced. ‘But you sent for me only this morning. I have been here since noon!’

‘Oh, I shouldn’t think so,’ she said again. ‘In any case my head aches dreadfully, so you might as well go home.’ She turned away from him to her small boy, who hadn’t yet looked up from his book. ‘Jack – darling,’ she snapped at him, and he jumped. ‘My baby, come here and say hello to your mama. I’ve been looking all over for you.’

She wandered away soon afterwards, ignoring me, just as she always did, with the boy following dutifully behind her.

Rudy sighed. He reached across, held my cheek in his hand, and looked at me with a sort of wistfulness I didn’t fully comprehend. We were alone, side by side on the carpet, our elbows resting on the floor. He kissed me.