her attributes, a thought hit him. That was it. She was far too perfect. Obviously the girl could not help her staggering beauty, that was nature’s doing, and her undeniable talent for acting was another of God’s generous gifts. But what about her personality, her immense charm and her exquisite manners? Had they perhaps been consciously distilled over the years? he wondered. Another disturbing thought crept into his mind: Katharine was uncommonly smooth for her age. She had none of the rough edges of youth. His own children had pleasant personalities, self-confidence and lovely manners, but occasionally they displayed a naïveté, and yes, even a certain gaucheness at times, traits quite natural in view of their youth. She is awfully smooth, he decided, and also a shade too mysterious.
Damnation! he cursed inwardly. I wish there was someone I could talk to about this, someone a little more mature than my darling Frankie, who’s obviously prejudiced about Katharine anyhow. Doris. Of course, Doris. There was no one better equipped to listen than she, and she was sincere and wise and down-to-earth, amongst other things. David picked up the telephone. He dialled the operator, gave her the number of the Hôtel de Paris in Monte Carlo, and waited.
‘Madame Asternan, s’il vous plaît,’ he said, when the hotel finally answered.
A moment later Doris’s sleepy voice was murmuring hello.
‘Good morning, Doris. It’s David. I hope I didn’t awaken you, my dear.’
‘Yes, you did,’ she laughed. ‘But that’s all right. I can’t think of a nicer way to be awakened. How are you, darling?’
‘I’m fine. I had your letter this morning, and I’m delighted about the house.’
‘Oh David, the Villa Zamir is perfectly divine! You’re going to love it, and so are Francesca and Kim.’
‘I’m sure we will.’ He smiled to himself. Doris might be a millionairess, but she was the least jaded person he knew. Her enthusiasm and gaiety and zest for life invariably lifted his spirits. ‘I can’t wait to see it. In the meantime, I also called to ask you something, so I’ll get straight to the point. Have you heard of a family in Chicago called Tempest?’
‘No, no, I don’t think I have,’ Doris said hesitantly. After a brief pause, whilst she obviously pondered on it, she said more positively, ‘I’m sure I haven’t. I would have remembered the name. It’s quite unusual. Anyway, why do you want to know, darling?’
‘Apparently Kim has been seeing a girl for a number of months. She’s from Chicago and her name is Tempest.’ He then proceeded to tell her about his concern, and the reasons for it.
Doris listened carefully. When he had finished, she asked, ‘Do you really believe Kim wants to marry her, David?’ her tone alert.
‘Yes, I do. And since he’s almost twenty-two he doesn’t need my permission. Whilst I don’t want to play the heavy Victorian father, I don’t want him to make a mistake either. A mistake he’ll regret.’ He sighed heavily. ‘Maybe I’m wrong, but I find it damned peculiar he knows so little about the girl and –’
‘So do I,’ Doris broke in. ‘You knew my entire life story within a week of meeting me.’
‘Yes, and you knew mine,’ he answered, gratified that she confirmed his own opinion.
‘Listen, I have an idea. Why don’t you talk to the girl herself?’ Doris suggested. ‘Ask her to fill you in about her background.’
David drew in his breath sharply. ‘Oh, I couldn’t do that, Doris. At least not yet. I’ve only just met her. It would be frightfully bad form, poor taste, and besides –’
‘Good heavens, David, you English never cease to astound me. Here you are worried to death, or at least you sound as if you are, and you talk to me about bad form. To hell with bad form! If the girl is intelligent she’ll understand your reasons.’
‘Yes, there’s some truth in what you say, but to be honest, I don’t want to precipitate anything at this moment, and I certainly don’t want to give the relationship too much importance in their eyes.’
‘But, David darling, it’s obviously important in your mind.’
‘Well, yes it is. But I don’t want Kim to know I take the relationship seriously. Oh, hell, Doris, I’m not making any sense at all, am I?’
‘Yes, you are. To me at any rate. You think that by simply ignoring the romance it might easily fizzle out. Whereas if you start asking too many questions, giving it credence, they’ll start to view it in a different light themselves. That’s what you mean, isn’t it, darling?’
‘Yes, Doris. As usual, you’re right on target. Parental interference and pressure often cause two people to draw closer together than they otherwise might. Fighting the world, so to speak.’ He rubbed his chin and exclaimed impatiently, ‘Oh, Christ, Doris, maybe I’m blowing this whole thing out of proportion!’
‘Yes, you could be, darling,’ she said. ‘And you know what young people are like. They’re madly in love one day, and can’t stand the sight of each other the next. They blow hot and cold with comparative ease. I realize you believe Kim has serious intentions, but he hasn’t actually announced them to you, has he?’
‘No,’ David admitted. But he’s going to, he thought.
‘Then in my opinion I think you should play it cool. Ignore the whole thing for the time being. Let it run its course. Kim might change his mind. Or the girl might,’ Doris soothed. Then she asked curiously, ‘By the way, what’s she like, the mysterious young lady from Chicago.’
‘Rather lovely, to be truthful. It’s easy to see why the boy’s smitten. Francesca also seems very sold on her, and I was quite impressed with Katharine myself. She’s certainly an unusual girl, I’ll say that.’
There was a silence at the other end of the telephone and then Doris said slowly, ‘Wait a minute, David, you’re not talking about Katharine Tempest, the young actress, are you? The girl in the Greek play in the West End?’
‘Yes, I am. I say, do you know her after all, Doris?’ His hopes soared.
‘No, afraid not, darling. But she was pointed out to me in the Mirabelle last summer. Stunning girl, I must agree with you there. I didn’t know she was an American, and from Chicago no less …’ Doris hesitated, and then said, with a laugh, ‘I can tell you one thing, darling, she’s as Irish as Paddy’s pig.’
‘What on earth do you mean?’
‘The dark hair, the white skin, the bluer-than-blue eyes. She’s very Irish looking, David. I remember thinking that last summer in the restaurant.’
‘How can you be so certain?’
‘I’ve met enough of the Irish in Chicago to recognize that look of theirs. The women in particular are often extraordinary beauties.’ She chuckled. ‘The men aren’t that bad either.’
‘Then she’s probably a Roman Catholic.’
‘Does that matter, David?’ There was a startled echo in her voice.
‘No, I don’t suppose it does, although we’ve always been a Protestant family –’ His voice trailed off lamely. He regretted
