Lunching at Laura's Page 18

  Her eyes lit up even more then, if that were possible, this time with laughter.

  ‘You can help, if you like. This is my cousin Philip Cord, Mr. Coplin. My cousin by marriage. I’m sure he’ll be glad to help. He might know more about his wife’s side of the family, if you ask him!’

  Philip Cord held out his hand to Joel. ‘Glad to be of use,’ he said and smiled, his eyes crinkling in a very attractive but clearly practised fashion which Joel immediately loathed. ‘What can I do for you? Happy to be of assistance – within reason.’ And again he smiled, but this time it wasn’t attractive at all. It was too watchful to be that.

  17

  It was, Joel decided, like trying to walk over a ploughed field in the rain while wearing oversized bedroom slippers. Philip Cord seemed to be friendly, with those damned smiles of his much in evidence, yet somehow there was no meat in what he said. He seemed to slither between Joel’s questions, missing the point of them over and over again and looking blankly uncomprehending when Joel tried to sharpen and shape his questions even more. And then of course Laura would draw back and look cool and ungiving, not liking the directness of his interrogation, so that after half an hour of apparently animated talk he felt he was no further on, and much more isolated from Laura to whom he had been feeling so comfortably close.

  ‘Look,’ he said, almost despairingly. ‘Let me see if I can do a family tree, hmm? There are Viktor and Maritza –’ And he scribbled their names at the top of a sheet of paper and drew lines from them to indicate children. ‘Here is the eldest – your wife’s grandmother, Mr. Cord – and here are the ones who died – how many were there, Miss Horvath?’

  She shrugged. ‘I can’t be sure. Four or five. Does it matter?’

  ‘I think it does. It gives a picture of the hardness of women’s lives then. You made that point yourself, remember?’

  ‘Did I?’ She looked at Philip Cord and Joel thought – she wants to be alone with him. She’s tired of me, wants me to go.

  For a brief moment he thought seriously of doing just that, of getting to his feet and thanking her for her help and her delightful dinner and just leaving; he had actually tightened his thigh muscles ready to push back his chair and stand up when he caught Cord’s glance on him, suddenly eager, and knew that he too wanted to get rid of him, and at once his feelings somersaulted. Bugger the man. He’d stay put. He had been here first, he was Laura Horvath’s guest, he was here for a purpose. Let Cord get the hell out. He, Joel Coplin, was sitting tight.

  ‘All right,’ he said smoothly. ‘Let’s put in four.’ And he made his scribbles accordingly. ‘Then there was your aunt who was having her birthday party the first time I came here – Anya Zsu –’ He stumbled over the name and Cord said smoothly. ‘Mrs. Balog. It is the family who refer to her as Anya Zsuzske.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Joel said, not looking at him. ‘I didn’t mean to be over familiar.’

  ‘It’s difficult not to be when you’re investigating people’s families and private lives, I imagine.’

  ‘I’ll remember the need to be careful,’ Joel said savagely. ‘And then, Miss Horvath? There was your grandmother? Mrs. – ah, I imagine Mrs. Horvath?’

  She looked at him and then at Philip and out of the corner of his eye Joel saw him shake his head almost imperceptibly and he felt a tide of angry colour lift in his cheeks. Who the hell was this bloody man to try to interfere in this way? A cousin by marriage, that was all. What else was going on here that made the man behave in so overbearing a fashion?

  He opened his mouth to speak, almost certainly to say something he’d later regret for its plain rudeness when to his amazement Laura said, ‘Yes, there was my grandmother next. And after her there was Istvan. My great Uncle Pishta – that was the pet name we all used. You can use it too if you like when you talk about him. Everyone did.’

  He looked at her and she was sitting very straight and her cheeks had small patches of colour on them as she looked very directly at Philip Cord. ‘No need to make secrets, Philip,’ she said then, seeming not to care that Joel was listening to her private reprimand. ‘It’s a bad habit in this family, being secretive. You don’t want to finish up like Dolly and Evelyn, do you? Always whispering? There’s no harm in helping Mr. Coplin with his research, is there? Especially as his family were friends of ours –’ He had been looking at her with his face as usual relaxed into a smile but his eyes had been a little hooded; now he lifted his lids sharply and glanced sideways at Joel.

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘My great grandfather was a friend of Uncle – Pishta.’ Joel grinned then, looking at Laura. ‘Why does that sound a rather rude name? It’s the sort of nickname we’d give to kids who wet their pants when I was at school.’

  Surprising him again, Laura laughed, a soft little chuckling sound. ‘I used to think that too when I was a child,’ she said. ‘I said it to him once and he laughed and said it was true – he did use to be a pishta when he was a boy. But it’s the usual Hungarian shortening for Istvan, so he didn’t mind. You see, Philip?’ She looked then at Cord. ‘It’s quite reasonable that we tell Mr. Coplin what he wants to know. It’s no harm to us.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Now Cord wasn’t smiling. ‘Have we any way of knowing? The way these television people twist things and cheat with facts –’

  ‘And what do you do for a living, Mr. Cord?’ Joel asked, his voice silky.

  ‘Mmm? I hardly think that’s relevant.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. I just wondered what sort of stereotyped notion, what sort of cliches, I could trot out about your chosen occupation.’

  ‘Oh, I dare say you’re an honest enough man personally. It’s your bosses who can’t be trusted. I’ve heard some tales of the sort of things these editors and producers do.’

  ‘About my company? About me and the films I make?’

  Cord shrugged. The moment of annoyance he had shown at Laura’s refusal to accept his guidance had gone. He was clearly content again now that he had roused Joel to irritation, and Joel noted that fact and stored it away at the back of his mind for future use. ‘I really can’t remember. It’s not that important, is it?’

  ‘No, I agree. Your opinion in this matter is very unimportant,’ Joel said and thought – touché! That’ll show you, you bastard. But Cord smiled at Laura.

  ‘My dear girl, it’s of no importance to me whatsoever if you want to let this television film drag the family’s name around. If you don’t think anyone else will protest, then fine –’

  ‘Heavens, I haven’t agreed to do anything but talk!’ Laura said and laughed. She seemed placatory now, as though her moment of resistance to Cord had shivered away and she looked at him appealingly and Joel wanted to lean over and shake her, to tell her not to crawl like that to this nasty piece of work. ‘Have I, Mr. Coplin?’

  ‘Not at all,’ he said promptly. ‘All I need at this stage is some background information about the way families lived and ran their lives and businesses in this part of London over the past eighty or ninety years. We’re a long way yet from making our film. I always talk to far more people than I need. Maybe I’ll come back and ask, very politely and with all the safeguards anyone could possibly want, for permission to do interviews, but I’ve a long way to go before we get to that stage. There are many other Soho families to talk to.’

  ‘You see, Philip?’ Laura said and again there was that appealing note in her voice that made Joel want to grit his teeth with anger.

  ‘Businesses, Mr. Coplin? What do you want to know about the way people ran their businesses?’ Cord said, and now he was no longer smiling but staring challengingly at Joel. ‘Are you going to be digging into people’s books and ledgers, asking about money? I imagine so. You see, Laura?’ He shifted his gaze back to her. ‘Thin edges of wedges, that’s what. The next thing you know you’ll have all sorts of tax people and Lord knows who buzzing around.’

  She frowned, genuinely mystified. ‘I can’t imagine why you’re so su
spicious, Philip. I don’t care how many tax men come! I don’t care who sees my books! In fact, I like showing ’em off! I’ve always run this place the way my father did – the way his father taught him. Everything straight up.’

  She laughed then and leaned forwards to set her hand on Philip’s arm. ‘My dear, don’t you know the old story? Poor old Grandfather Zolly got a bit involved with the black market in ’forty two, and as near as dammit was caught. He didn’t have to go to court but according to my father it was a very close run thing. And after that, he was so virtuous he could have worn white robes and a halo all day. My father was only a boy at the time but he was already working in the business, but it scared him too. So he was just as careful when he took over. I didn’t have to worry about black marketeers, glory be, but I still run the place the way my father did. I don’t know any other. So you see, there’s no need to be so careful!’

  Philip shrugged. He seemed sulky now. ‘It’s up to you, of course.’

  ‘No it isn’t. If the rest of the family object, then I can’t involve myself with Mr. Coplin’s film, can I? Do you object?’

  He looked at her and then at Joel and suddenly gave a wide smile that took in both of them.

  ‘I suppose I’m being over-protective. It’s just that –’ He shrugged all charming self deprecation. ‘This place, it’s important to me, Mr. Coplin. It’s important to my wife – it’s part of her family history and that means it’s now part of mine. And we all care a great deal for Laura who keeps it all going –’

  And he smiled at her and she smiled back, that great flaming smile that Joel could have warmed his hands at and he thought with a sudden surge of cold fury – they’re in love. This marvellous woman’s in love with this lousy bastard and he with her – and he wanted to push back his chair and reach round the table and drag the man to his feet and punch him hard.

  It took all the self control he had to sit still and he realised after a moment that he was shaking and he pushed his hands down into his lap beneath the table as Laura said, a little loudly, ‘More coffee, Mr. Coplin?’ in a tone of voice that made it clear she’d said it before and had had to repeat it.

  ‘Mmm? Er – no, thank you. I mean, yes please, I’d love some.’ I’m sitting tight, tight, tight, he thought. I’m not letting that bastard have all the running! I’m not letting him just scoop her up from under my nose like that, I’ve only just found her and I’m not letting go that easily.

  The shaking eased and went away, and he was able to pick up his coffee cup when Miklos had filled it and sip with every air of being relaxed and comfortable, but inside he was aghast.

  This is crazy, he told himself. This is sheer lunacy. You can’t behave like a stupid child, suddenly getting this involved. You’ve never done anything so idiotic before, not in all your life, and you’re a grown man, you’re thirty. This is what happens to boys of seventeen, not men of thirty. Falling in love as abruptly as a lemming falling over a cliff – stupid, stupid, stupid, you’re even thinking in clichés. Stop this nonsense, stop it at once –

  But his mind refused to listen to the commonsense he was hammering at it, and he lifted his eyes and looked at her again, at the way she was sitting with her head half turned so that she could fix her gaze on the other man, and all he could see was a glitter of light around her. She seemed now to be the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and he forced himself to shift his own gaze and look at Cord, as she was; and he was smiling at her, his mouth curled in a way that seemed to Joel to be positively lascivious. Again he had to push his hands down out of sight to prevent himself from hitting out at that self-satisfied face.

  ‘So,’ he said loudly. ‘How do we stand? Am I to continue with my research, Miss Horvath, or am I to go away and find other Soho families I can talk to?’

  She looked at him, seeming to Joel to drag her eyes unwillingly from Cord and again he felt that shaft of pure hate for the man shoot up inside him.

  ‘Oh, I think we go on,’ she said and then smiled. ‘I’m a business woman, after all, Mr. Coplin, and I would hate to miss the opportunity of good free publicity for my restaurant if I can get it. I reserve the right, of course, to pull back at any point if I’m not sure that the whole thing will be –’ She pursed her lips in a way that Joel found wholly delightful and said primly, ‘– shall we say tasteful. But otherwise I’m glad to help. On the understanding that if you do use us that the restaurant gets a decent showing!’

  Joel laughed, feeling a great warm wash of pleasure at the good sense of her, the wisdom of her, the sheer wonderfulness of her, while underneath the watching sensible part of himself jeered at his childishness. To fall so suddenly into so violent a crush at his age! Ridiculous!

  ‘Absolutely,’ he said. ‘The word and honour of a Canadian gentleman. There are a few of us in the television business.’ And he looked at Cord, enjoying the malice that now filled him. He’d show the arrogant bastard where he got off, just see if he didn’t. He’d get this marvellous woman to himself, just watch him –

  ‘Oh, Laura, my dear girl! That’s the last thing you need! Publicity? Bless you, you already turn away more customers every day than you can accommodate!’

  ‘That’s today,’ Laura said. ‘Who knows where we’ll be tomorrow? You never do know, you see, Philip. Sometimes you can get too sure of yourself, too pleased with the business you’re doing and you forget there’s another day. Tomorrow isn’t always as good as yesterday. Anything can change. So I use whatever opportunities that come my way to look after tomorrow. You see?’

  ‘No I don’t,’ he said. ‘Ever since I’ve known you – what is it? Fifteen, sixteen years – this place has been the most successful restaurant in Soho –’

  ‘No need to exaggerate,’ she said and laughed. ‘One of the most successful I’ll go along with. But the most? Never! The day I start to think that is the day I’m in real trouble.’

  ‘Hubris,’ Joel said and she looked at him and at once his chest tightened with excitement, and he stared back at her, furious at himself for being so absurd.

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘Hubris – insolent or overweening pride that leads to disaster and downfall. The sin of the Greeks who thought themselves above the Gods. You’re avoiding it – very wise.’

  ‘Ah!’ Cord said. ‘Now you’re giving us the evidence of how reliable you are, eh, Coplin? No man educated enough to quote Greek at us can possibly be anything but virtuous and upright, hmm?’

  ‘Something like that,’ Joel said and stared at him, challengingly.

  But the other man seemed unaware of the dislike in his tone or in his gaze and grinned at him amiably.

  ‘Well, there it is. If Laura has decided that helping you is good for the restaurant then there’ll be no shifting her. What’s good for the restaurant is good for the world, in her estimation –’

  ‘It’s good for you,’ Laura said sharply and he shot a little glance at her and after a moment said smoothly, ‘Of course, my dear. And for me. Me and Ilona, hmm?’

  She went a sudden deep red and leaned back in her chair and Joel thought – that was significant. There was more in that little exchange than I understand. I will one day, but right now, I don’t understand. But I will – I have to –

  Cord got to his feet. ‘Well, I must be away. I’ve got to get back to Harrow tonight. Good to have had the opportunity to meet you, Coplin.’

  ‘Don’t go yet,’ Laura said quickly and stood up too. ‘There are – I had something I wanted to talk to you about.’

  She looked confused suddenly and, embarrassed for her, Joel looked away, collecting up his notebook and his pens and tucking them into his pocket, making a little busyness out of it to cover his awareness of her confusion.

  ‘It’s not important, of course,’ she said then, and turned away. ‘It can wait.’

  ‘I have to go now,’ Joel said loudly and stood up. ‘I can see myself out, Miss Horvath. Thank you for your help. May I come back some time? Look at
the photographs you mentioned? Talk to Angie perhaps about the way the restaurant has developed while he’s been here? It could all be grist to the research mill, you see –’

  ‘Yes – yes, of course,’ she said, clearly abstracted now. She was still looking at Cord who was humping himself into his coat. ‘Philip, just hold on a moment, will you? I’ll be right back.’ And she moved away, inviting Joel to follow her, and at once he did, letting her lead him to the door.

  ‘It was very kind of you,’ he said quietly. ‘I greatly enjoyed my dinner. I hope you will allow me to return your hospitality soon. Good night.’ And he shook her hand firmly and went, pulling the door closed behind him with a little snap.

  He stood out in the dark Yard for a long time, staring at the other diners at their tables, laughing, talking, their heads wreathed in cigar smoke, at Miklos moving ponderously about with glasses of brandy and there, against the window, the two of them, Laura and her cousin’s husband, standing close to each other and talking, talking, talking –

  Joel watched them, hating himself for behaving like a peeping Tom and totally powerless to do anything else. He saw the intimacy between them in the way they stood so closely, in the angle of Laura’s head as she tilted it up to look at the taller Cord, in the manner in which she had one hand laid on his sleeve, apparently unaware of the fact it was there. I’ll show the bastard, he told himself again. I won’t let him march all over me. I’ll show him.

  And I don’t care if it is hubris, either, he thought then, as at last he found the will to pull up his coat collar to keep out the chill of the spring evening air and turned to go. It’s worth the risk. She’s extraordinary. Damn her, she’s extraordinary.

  18

  ‘Seventy pounds?’ Abner said. ‘You lost seventy pounds? No one can lose that sort of money just playing cards.’

  ‘I can,’ Viktor said. ‘I did. Seventy pounds fifteen and sixpence.’ He said it with a sort of gloomy pride that made Abner shake his head and purse his lips into a soundless whistle.