‘D’you want to meet him now?’ said Imogen, as she saw Matt get to his feet and walk towards them.
Braganzi shook his head. ‘Tomorrow will do, and tell him to bring Larry Gilmore with him. He can take some pictures of Camilla and Ricky.’
‘But I didn’t even tell you Larry was here,’ said Imogen in amazement. ‘You really know everything, don’t you?’
‘I do my rich best,’ said Braganzi modestly. ‘Goodbye and once again thank you for everything,’ and, taking her hand, he kissed it, and Imogen could see exactly why the Duchess had given up everything for him.
She waved as the car moved away. The next moment Matt was beside her.
‘What was that hood doing mauling you like that?’ he said sharply.
‘Just saying good-bye.’
‘Was that all he did?’ His face was in shadow, so she couldn’t read its expression, but his fingers were hard and painful on her arm.
‘Of course it was. I had the most wonderful time.’
‘You were away so long we were about to send out a search party.’
‘You didn’t have to. They were lovely to me.’
‘Bloody well should have been, after all you did for them. What was she like?’ He let go of her arm.
‘Oh sweet, beautiful and well — sort of vulnerable. Where are the others?’
‘Inside the bar. Gilmore’s pissed out of his mind. Come and have a drink.’ He put an arm round her shoulders and hugged her for a second. ‘Sorry I snapped, darling. I was worried about you.’
A great surge of happiness welled up inside her; then she said ‘Down, boy’ to herself as she remembered Matt’s ‘trespassers-will-be-prosecuted’ lecture on the beach that morning. He’d have been worried about anyone in the party who’d been closeted in Braganzi’s fortress as long as she had.
Inside the bar Larry and Tracey were dancing round to the juke box.
‘I’m Larry the Limpet,’ cried Larry, shoving his hand down Tracey’s dress.
‘I do wish you’d stop doing rude things,’ she said placidly, pulling his hand out.
They danced past the ladies which said ‘Little Girls’ on the door.
‘I want seven,’ said Larry, banging on the door, ‘and I want them now.’
Nicky and Cable sat watching them. Nicky was roaring with laughter, Cable wasn’t. James and Yvonne appeared to have gone to bed.
‘Darling,’ cried Nicky, jumping up when he saw her, ‘are you all right?’
Tracey and Larry immediately stopped dancing and came over and showered her with questions.
‘It was wonderful,’ Imogen kept saying, embarrassed yet happy to be the centre of attention. ‘The house is beautiful inside and the pictures are amazing.’
‘Probably got half the Uffizi and the Louvre in there,’ said Larry.
‘Weren’t you terrified?’ said Tracey.
‘No, not at all; not even by the Duchess. She was so friendly and — well — un-grand.’
‘Why on earth should she be?’ snapped Cable. ‘She was only some two-bit actress before she married the Duke. She’s really as common as muck.’
‘Rubbish,’ said Nicky. ‘She comes from a perfectly respectable family. Did they seem keen on each other?’
‘Oh yes, and Braganzi’s amazing. He knows everything. He knew all about. .’ She was about to say ‘last night’, but she didn’t know how much Matt had told Cable about their skirmish with the guards. ‘He seems to know who we all are,’ she added lamely. Matt came over, warming a large glass of brandy with his hands.
‘Have a breath of that, sweetheart, and tell me all about it.’
‘I’d like one too,’ said Larry.
Imogen took the glass from Matt. ‘Thanks awfully,’ she stammered. ‘And, oh Matt, Braganzi’s promised to give you an interview.’
‘I’ve just bought you three,’ Matt was saying to Larry. Then he double-took. ‘He what?’ he said, his voice like a pistol shot.
‘He’s agreed to give you an interview. You’re to go up there tomorrow at ten o’clock.’
‘You’re having me on,’ he said incredulously.
‘No, truly I’m not; and Larry can go too and take some pictures.’
‘Holy Mother, you’re a genius. How the hell did you swing that?’
‘I asked him. The only condition is he wants to see copy.’
‘That’s all right. So should I, if I were in his shoes. Baby, you really are a beautiful, beautiful thing,’ and he leant forward and kissed her on both cheeks. And this time she didn’t even bother to say ‘Down, boy’ to the surge of happiness. She just revelled in how delighted and overwhelmed he was by the news.
‘Can’t I come and take pictures instead of Gilmore?’ said Nicky. ‘I’d love a crack at the Duchess.’
Imogen giggled. ‘She thinks you’re beautiful too.’
‘She’s heard of me?’ said Nicky in surprise.
‘Yes. They are capable occasionally of watching television, the Upper Classes. Some of the brighter ones can even read. Now, who’s going to buy me a drink?’ said Larry.
‘No one,’ said Matt firmly. ‘You’re having some coffee to sober you up, or your hand’ll be shaking far too much to hold a camera straight.’
‘I shall be caught with my Nikkons down yet again,’ said Larry. ‘Just a small brandy wouldn’t hurt.’
Cable got to her feet. ‘Now that she’s finally deigned to show up,’ she said, shooting a venomous glance in Imogen’s direction, ‘can we please move on to somewhere slightly more exciting?’
Matt got the envelope of cuttings out of his back pocket and threw them on the table. ‘You can if you want. I’ve got to read this lot. Now sit yourself down, Imogen my darling girl,’ he patted the seat beside him, ‘and if you’re not too tired, would you tell me from the rescue onwards exactly what happened?’
Chapter Fourteen
Imogen woke late the next morning to another blazing hot day. Through the open window she could see a few little white clouds ermining the serene morning-glory blue of the sky. She lay for a minute reflecting on the extraordinary events of the past forty-eight hours; first Matt transforming her in St Tropez, then meeting Antoine, who was pretty bizarre by any standards, then being threatened by Braganzi’s guards, Matt kissing her good-night and warning her off next morning, then her rescuing little Ricky, finding Nicky and Cable in bed and finally meeting Braganzi and the Duchess. Live a little, get some experience, Matt had said. Well, she’d certainly made a start. Yet, as she gazed at her smooth brown face in the mirror, she looked as young and as round-eyed as ever. She looked at the purple aster wilting in the diary and sighed.
She’d just got dressed and was wondering how Matt and Larry were getting on with Braganzi when there was a knock on the door. It was Tracey, wondering if she was ready to come down to the beach.
‘It’s awfully hot,’ she said, as they wandered along the front. ‘Even a T-shirt feels like a fur coat.’
‘Did Larry get off all right this morning?’
‘Yes, but he was feeling very poorly. I’ve never known a guy knock it back like he does. That Cable’s a crosspatch, isn’t she?’
‘Yes,’ sighed Imogen.
‘I dreamt all my teeth fell out last night,’ said Tracey. ‘Isn’t it supposed to mean something?’
‘Probably that you’re worried about all your teeth falling out,’ said Imogen.
She noticed that even the brownest and most blasé Frenchmen sat up, pulled in their stomachs and took notice as Tracey undulated past, her silver waterfall of hair glinting in the sun. This was going to make Cable even crosser.
They found Yvonne and James parked in the middle of the beach. Yvonne was grumbling away under the cardboard nose shield, looking like a malignant goose.