The Silver Falcon by Evelyn Anthony

and he always spoke of him as a waster. That bothers me, Isabel. I wish you’d told me before.’
    â€˜Everyone seemed to be against him,’ she said slowly. ‘Andrew bursting in the night of the funeral and telling him to go. Trying to turn me against him. It didn’t seem fair. He’d been shut out for so long, and he did come back to make it up with his father. Right up to now I felt I was doing absolutely the right thing. Now I wonder whether I’m being disloyal to Charles.’ She looked at him unhappily. ‘Tell me the truth, Tim. What do you think?’
    He stretched out and took her hand. She didn’t pull away.
    â€˜I don’t know,’ he said. ‘But I think you should ask him what really went wrong between him and his father. You’ve come in for criticism at home for having him at Beaumont. There’ll be more of it because you’ve gone on this trip. That’s one of the reasons I came with you. People can hardly talk if there are three of us. But you have a right to know the truth. I’m surprised Charles didn’t tell you.’
    â€˜He never told me anything,’ she said. ‘I did ask him once, about Richard’s mother, and he wouldn’t discuss it at all. I felt too proud to go on asking if he didn’t want to tell me. It was his business. All I knew was that they weren’t happy and that she killed herself. It must have been horrible for him and I didn’t want to pry. The same with Richard. He wouldn’t talk about him. He just said the same thing to me as he did to you. He’s a waster and no good. And never trust him. He said he’d try and stop me running the Falcon.…’
    â€˜He must have been wandering in his mind,’ Tim said. ‘Richard doesn’t give a good goddamn about the horse. I know that. He just joins in to please you. I wouldn’t take that seriously.’
    He sat on quietly, holding her hand. There were lights set among the palm trees in the garden and below them the pool shimmered pale blue from underwater floodlighting. She was wearing loose silk beach pyjamas and a long gold chain with her initials in diamonds set onto a crystal heart. He came very close in those few moments to telling her he was in love with her. But instinctively he knew that it was premature. She needed time to find herself again. Proximity was nine-tenths of the game. He didn’t intend to be far away. It was a perfect night, with a vast swollen moon riding the sky, the lights of the houses and hotel below them glittering in the darkness. But in spite of the beguiling peace of the villa garden, and the quiet presence of the woman he loved beside him, Ryan was suddenly uneasy. There was nothing logical about the feeling – a dying man’s suspicion of his son, a family feud that had its origins long years before he even came to America. It was all in the past and he shouldn’t have been disturbed by what Isabel had told him. But he was.
    â€˜Hullo,’ the voice of Patsy Farrant came from behind them. ‘Sorry you’ve been left all alone.’ She came round and stood beside them, one hand balanced on her left hip. She wore a white one-piece trouser suit, slit to the navel, and a mass of gold chains round her neck. ‘I suppose Roy’s talking business with Richard,’ she said. She took the chair beside Tim Ryan and stretched out on it, her beautiful thighs extended. ‘That’s the second thing he lives for,’ she said. She gave a slow sensual smile and tapped Ryan’s arm. ‘Go and find that lazy nigger, will you, please? I want a glass of champagne. They’re never about when you want them.’ She watched Tim move into the room behind them. Then she turned to Isabel.
    â€˜He’s delicious,’ she said. ‘I saw you two holding hands. I’m glad so glad it’s him, dear. I nearly had a heart attack thinking you’d picked