To Be the Best by Barbara Taylor Bradford Page B

You know how extremely rare the Fabergé eggs have become.’ Sir Ronald peered at his watch, clucked to himself, and before Michael had a chance to comment, he rapidly went on, ‘And that reminds me, I have an appointment at Wartski’s in fifteen minutes. Kenneth Snowman recently acquired a cigarette box which belonged to Czar Nicholas the Second. It’s by Perchin, one of the greatest of the Fabergé designers, and I promised I would pop in to see it this afternoon.’
    ‘I’m delighted for you, Dad, and I hope that you manage to get both items,’ Michael said with real sincerity, knowing how important collecting these beautiful objects had become to his father. What had begun as a vague hobby had turned into a grand passion. The Kallinski Fabergé Collection was renowned, and was frequently on exhibition with the Sandringham Collection, which had been started by King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra, sister of the Czarina Marie Feodorovna, later added to by Queen Mary and now owned by Queen Elizabeth II.
    Michael smiled at his father. ‘Since you’re in a hurry, I’d better get the bill, Dad,’ he said, and motioned to their waiter.
    Sir Ronald glanced at Paula. ‘If you wouldn’t mind dropping me off at Wartski’s first, my car can then take you back to the store, my dear.’
    ‘Thanks, Uncle Ronnie, that’ll be lovely.’
    ‘Michael, can I give you a lift too?’
    ‘Oh no,’ Michael said, suddenly having no wish to be around Paula any longer than was necessary today. ‘Thanks anyway, Dad, but I prefer to walk.’

Chapter 4
    She went to Paris after all.
    It was a sudden decision, made when she returned to the store at three o’clock. She had picked up the phone and begun to dial British Airways, ready to cancel her reservation, when she had changed her mind and let the receiver drop back into its cradle.
    It had been a scramble then to finish her work and stuff several silk dresses into the garment bag and get out to Heathrow to catch the six o’clock plane. She had made it with ten minutes to spare and the flight had been smooth and fast with the wind behind them, and exactly one hour and five minutes after take-off they had landed serenely at Charles de Gaulle Airport.
    Her luggage had come through without much delay and she had passed customs quickly and with no fuss. Now she sat comfortably in the back of the chauffeur-driven car he had sent to meet her, being whizzed towards Paris and her rendezvous.
    For the first time since lunch at the Connaught with the Kallinskis earlier in the day, Paula began to unwind. And as she did she realized that it had not been such a sudden decision to come here…she had known from the first moment she had read his note that she would go to him, hadn’t she? Hadn’t it been a fait accompli even then? Of course it had, but, very simply, she had not wanted to admit this to herself and so she had clouded the issue with thoughts of duty and responsibility.
    Paula leaned into the corner of the seat and crossed her long and shapely legs; a smile flitted across her face as she recalled something her grandmother had said to her many,many years before. ‘When the right man beckons a woman will always go running to him, no matter who she is, no matter what her responsibilities are. And no doubt you’ll fall into that same trap one day, just as I did when I met your grandfather. You mark my words, Paula,’ Grandy had remarked in her knowing way. As usual, Emma had been correct.
    The smile lingered on Paula’s face as she turned her head to glance out of the window. With the hour’s difference in time between London and Paris it was now nearly nine and already growing dark.
    The car was leaving the Boulevard de Courcelles at a good clip, following the other traffic through the Etoile without slowing, and as it whirled at a dizzying speed around the Arc de Triomphe, that giant monument to a nation’s valour, Paula cringed. She wondered how all these fast-moving