Barbara Taylor Bradford’s 4-Book Collection. Barbara Taylor Bradford
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does that mean?’
‘It means understand. You do, don’t you, Francesca?’
She nodded, unable to speak.
‘Sorry we’re late, Diana,’ Francesca apologized as she and Victor went into the sitting room a few minutes later.
Diana was sitting in her favourite spot on the hearth, nursing a small white dog, patiently waiting for them. ‘No problem, darling,’ she said with a cheerful smile. ‘When you didn’t get back on time, I delayed tea for half an hour. Clara only just brought it up a few minutes ago, so it’s still hot. But I have to admit, I was getting a bit anxious about you both out there in the dark. Anyway, do come to the fire and warm yourselves. You looked awfully chilled.’
‘A wind was blowing up when we came out of the forest, but otherwise it wasn’t too bad,’ Francesca told her, and then stopped in her tracks, exclaiming, ‘Oh Diana, how pretty Tutzi looks after her bath. Or is it Lutzi? I always get them mixed up, they’re so alike.’
‘It’s Lutzi,’ Diana said. Hearing his name, the dog glanced up at her, then leapt off her lap and raced towards Francesca, for all the world like a small woolly lamb as he gambolled across the floor. When the dog reached Francesca, he reared up on his hind legs and danced around her, pawing her affectionately and squeaking in excitement. Francesca bent down to fondle him, her face wreathed in smiles. ‘Yes, yes, I know,’ she laughed gaily. ‘I’m happy to see you too, Lutzi.’
Victor stood watching her in fond amusement. ‘What a gorgeous little animal.’
‘But we mustn’t forget his sister,’ Francesca interjected. ‘She’s just as beautiful as Lutzi. Where is she, Diana?’ Her eyes swept around the room. ‘They’re never far apart, those two.’
Diana nodded in the direction of the sofa. ‘She’s over there, squashed behind the cushions, observing us with great curiosity, as usual.’
Victor spied the dog, strode across the floor and sat down on the sofa. He picked her up in his large hands, holding her in front of his face. ‘Hello, Tutzi,’ he said. ‘I see you’re another fluffy little number. A real powder puff,’ he chuckled. The dog began to lick his hand, and Victor grinned at Diana and said, ‘I’ve never seen dogs like these. What’s the breed?’
‘Bichon Frise.’
Victor frowned, puzzlement on his face. ‘Afraid I’ve never heard of it.’ He glanced down at the dog, noting the silky fur, the unusual tail resembling an ostrich feather, the long floppy ears, the black button of a nose, and the huge round eyes, sparkling like black diamonds. ‘She is a beauty,’ he enthused, and placed the dog on his lap. He began to scratch her head, still smiling broadly.
Diana was pleased by Victor’s loving reaction to her pets, and she told him, ‘They’re marvellous little dogs, Victor. Bright, intelligent and gay, with endearing habits. And although they’re rather pretty to look at, they’re also quite feisty. Like you, I’d never heard of Bichon Frises until Francesca told me about them. They’re her favourite dogs. A friend of hers in Yorkshire breeds them, and Lutzi and Tutzi are from the same litter. I got them a couple of years ago when I was staying at Langley Castle. They were just ten weeks old, and so adorable I couldn’t resist them.’
‘Oh, so they’re an English breed,’ Victor said, continuing to fondle Tutzi, who had settled down with him contentedly, enjoying the attention.
‘No, as a matter of fact, they’re not. The Bichon comes from the Mediterranean region, the Spanish mainland to be exact. At least, that’s where they apparently originated. And they’re an ancient breed, dating back to the time of Cleopatra.’
‘No kidding,’ Victor exclaimed. ‘Tell me more about them. I’m crazy about dogs.’
Diana laughed dismissively. ‘I’ve been known to wax eloquent about them for a full hour, so perhaps you’d better not get me going on the subject now.’
‘Listen, I meant it. I’ve never seen such gorgeous dogs in my life. I’m very curious about them, so come on, fill me in,’ Victor insisted.
‘Well, all right, a potted history, but that’s all. It seems that Spanish sailors took the dogs abroad, around the fifteenth century, mainly to the Canary Islands, Tenerife in particular. That’s why they were known as the Bichon Tenerife for centuries. Later, the sailors used them for sale or barter at the Italian ports, and they became popular pets with the Italian nobility. In the sixteenth century, after the French invaded Italy, the returning soldiers brought the little Bichon back to France. The dogs were court favourites during the reigns of Francis the First and Henry the Third. Fragonard often depicted them in his portraits of the French aristocracy, and actually, so did Goya, in his paintings of the Infantas of Spain, who also favoured the Bichons. During the reign of Napoleon the Third, in the middle of the eighteen hundreds, they also enjoyed great popularity, but they fell out of fashion in the early part of this century.’ Diana paused, lit a cigarette, and continued, ‘For a while the Bichon became a sort of little nomad, cavorting through the streets, accompanying the organ grinder and delighting everyone with his merry disposition and friendly personality. As a matter of fact, Bichons became extraordinarily talented trick dogs and performed complicated routines at fairs. They even went into the circus.’ Diana laughed. ‘Believe it or not, Victor, they are very acrobatic, given half a chance.’
‘And how!’ Francesca reiterated. ‘You should see the way Tutzi and Lutzi take flying leaps on and off my bed. And usually late at night, when I’m trying to sleep. Not only that, I can never get rid of them. They’d be happy to frisk around with me until dawn.’
‘I can’t say I blame them.’ Victor winked at her, and his smile was so wickedly suggestive, Francesca flushed. She turned her head, cursing herself for having given him such a marvellous opportunity to tease her.
Diana, who had not missed this small exchange, hid her amusement at them both, and went to join Francesca on the sofa. She said, in a matter-of-fact tone, ‘How do you like your tea, Victor? With milk or lemon?’
‘Lemon, please. So they became circus dogs. Mmmm. Very interesting.’ He ruffled Tutzi’s crown of, hair. ‘No wonder I had such an instantaneous affinity with them. Fellow entertainers, eh?’ Diana and Francesca smiled with him, but before either were able to comment, he went on, ‘And then what happened?’
Diana poured the tea, and proceeded to explain, ‘Just after the First World War they became very popular again as pets, but it wasn’t until the early thirties that serious breeding programmes were started and the French Kennel Club admitted the Bichon to its Stud Book –’ Diana broke off and gaped at him. ‘Oh God, Victor, we got started on the dogs and I forgot all about the ’phone call. For you – from a Mr Watson. Actually, you only just missed him by about fifteen minutes.’
‘Thanks,’ Victor said, taking the cup from her, asking: ‘Does Jake want me to call him back?’
‘No. He gave me a message. He asked me to tell you that your suitcase will be here no later than tomorrow afternoon. He’s sending it by the film service Monarch use for delivering cans of film.’ She handed Francesca her cup, and added, ‘It’s being brought here directly, by a special courier.’
‘You didn’t send for your dinner jacket!’ Francesca gasped, looking at Victor disbelievingly, yet knowing at once this was exactly what he had done. She was flabbergasted, and it showed in her face. ‘Or go to all that dreadful expense just for Diana’s birthday party tomorrow. It wasn’t necessary, really it wasn’t’
Victor was taken aback by her quiet vehemence. He wondered why she sounded so put out. ‘I also needed a few other things I’d forgotten, as well as my dinner jacket, kid,’ he answered, his manner mild. He addressed Diana. ‘I hope the guy finds this house okay. Did you give Jake directions?’
‘I started to do so, then I realized it would be very difficult for anyone to find this house easily, even a cab driver from Salzburg, who might well know something about the