Brides of War (11 page)

When Valerie told Ross she was to be featured in
Vogue,
he was delighted, knowing just how important was the invitation. To be in
Vogue
was a real coup. Only prominent people were ever within the pages of
that
elitist magazine. For once, he was really thrilled for his wife. He drew her into his arms.

‘Darling, that’s wonderful and you’ll do them justice. I’m so proud of you.’

Valerie felt really happy to hear these words, as she’d waited so long for him to say them. ‘Are you really, Ross?’

‘But of course, how could you have ever doubted it? Besides it will be great publicity for you and that will be great for us both.’

She felt suddenly deflated. Couldn’t Ross for once be pleased for her alone without seeing the dollar signs maybe creeping into his firm through her contacts? The fact that he was so dedicated to building his business was to be admired, but the ruthless way he was using her was more than distasteful.

The following morning, Valerie made her way to Max’s studio. At least there she was relaxed and happy. With her tutor, there was no hidden agenda.

Max greeted her warmly and kissed her cheek. ‘Have you recovered from last night?’

‘Just about. Oh Max, it was great fun, I really enjoyed myself.’

‘Did you tell Ross about being in
Vogue
?’

‘Yes I did.’

Max started setting up their easels for work as he spoke. ‘I bet he was thrilled for you.’

‘Yes, he was,’ was all she said.

The next two hours they worked side by side, as Max taught her how to get the best effect with oils. Valerie was lost within the world they both loved and this new medium thrilled her as she became more adept. Watercolours were gentle but with oils, there was a strength, depth, an excitement that thrilled her artistic soul.

They stopped for lunch and made their way out into the street, where they sat outside a cafe and ate sandwiches and drank beer, watching life pass by in the Village, discussing the mishmash of cultures that survived in New York City.

Valerie sat back in her seat. ‘I love this city,’ she declared with a happy smile. ‘There is such a buzz about it. I know every metropolis is that way but here, somehow it seems different. I love the smell of the pretzels on the cart over there, the hot-dog stand, the way women dress. The exuberance of the people. The whole attitude of the place. I just love it!’

Max looked delighted. ‘I am so pleased you feel that way, because it shows in your work. But never ever lose
you Englishness, if there is such a word, because Valerie my dear, that is an important part of your charm.’

Laughing she said, ‘Oh Max, flattery will get you everything!’

He grinned broadly. ‘I’m banking on it! Come on, back to the grind.’

The following week, Max accompanied her to
Vogue
’s office for the photo shoot. It was a long, tiring day for Valerie, but she enjoyed every moment. The hairdressers and make-up artists did their work and Valerie was photographed in various designer gowns, draped amidst different settings. She had a natural elegance and poise, which pleased the professional photographers and when they showed her the rushes, she was amazed at the results.

Max was looking at the photographs over her shoulder. ‘Didn’t I tell you Mrs Johnson that you were a beautiful woman? When this issue hits the news stands, your name will be on everyone’s lips.’

The editor, picked up one photograph and said, ‘We’ll put this on the cover.’

Valerie gasped. ‘The cover? I’m going to be on the cover of
Vogue
magazine, you’re kidding!’

‘No way,’ said the editor. ‘Take a good look, this is a superb picture.’

It showed Valerie in a sumptuous evening gown sitting in front of an easel, a paintbrush in her hand as if she was working.

‘We’ll publicise you as the new find in the art world. I expect it to increase our sales.’

A while later, Max and she left the offices, Valerie still in a whirl, unable to believe what had happened. Max hailed a taxi and took her to the Plaza Hotel to celebrate.

They sat at a table, ordered a meal and drank champagne.

As she lifted her glass, Valerie looked across the table at her tutor. ‘How can I ever thank you, Max? All this has happened because of you.’

He took her hand in his. ‘No, my dear, this has happened through your God-given talent. I’m the lucky one to be part of your success.’

‘But where is this going to lead and where will it end? It’s far too good to be true, it’s bound to end at some time and that will be so sad.’

‘Hey! That’s no way to talk. You are at the start of a great career, which can continue as long as you want to work.’ He hesitated. ‘The only thing that might suffer is your marriage, if I’m honest with you.’

‘How do you mean?’ She asked with some trepidation.

‘Ross will have to get used to the idea that your work is important and will take up much of your time. He will also have to get used to the fact that you will no doubt become somewhat of a celebrity. The male ego can be unpredictable. Could he handle that?’

Valerie laughed with delight. ‘Oh, Max, I really think you are putting too much store at my becoming that well known.’

He sipped his drink. ‘Time will tell,’ he said.

Three weeks later, the issue of
Vogue
magazine hit the news stands and bookshops. Valerie stopped on her way to the studio and bought a copy. The man behind the
counter glanced at the cover then at Valerie.

‘Geez, honey, that’s you! Holy cow!’

She laughed with delight. ‘Yes it is.’

‘Hey!’ he said to the customer waiting, ‘This girl is on the cover, take a look!’

The man did and smiled at her. ‘Great picture, you are a very beautiful woman.’

Feeling embarrassed she thanked him and hurried away. When she walked into the studio and told Max he burst out laughing.

‘There you go, that’s just the beginning!’ He then picked up the copy he’d bought earlier. ‘I shall keep this and start a scrapbook of my protégé and when I’m an old man, I’ll sit in my rocking chair and reminisce.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she chided, unable to cope with any more compliments. ‘I’ll make us some coffee and get down to work or they’ll be nothing to show for all this hype!’

The following day, Gloria Johnson and Laura, Ross’s ex-girlfriend, were out shopping when they saw the copy of
Vogue
displayed on a bookstand in one of the stores. Gloria did a double take as she caught sight of the cover and grabbed Laura’s arm.

‘Am I seeing things? Is that Valerie on the cover of
Vogue
? No, it can’t be!’

They both stopped and looked closely. Laura’s face paled. ‘Yes it’s her! I can’t believe it, what’s she doing there?’

‘There’s only one way to find out!’ Gloria snapped and bought a copy. The two women went into the coffee shop in the store to look inside. As they poured over the pages, both were speechless.

‘How on earth did she manage this?’ Laura was candescent with rage. ‘She must know someone.’

‘A new find in the art world,’ Gloria quoted. ‘Well, I know she showed some of her paintings and was written up in the
New York Times,
but this …’ She was at a loss for words.

She wasn’t the only person to be surprised. Gracie Rider spotted the picture in the news stand in the parade where she worked. She stopped, made sure it was Valerie whom she’d met as a GI bride and had shared a cabin with. When she realised it was, she bought a copy and rushed to show Milly.

‘Look! This is my friend Valerie. We came across to the States together!’ They sat down and read all about her.

‘She’s doing really well,’ said Gracie. ‘I’m so pleased, she was a lovely woman. Her husband is a lawyer, they live in New York and she’s still there, it says so.’

‘Why don’t you look up her number and give her a call,’ Milly suggested.

‘I don’t think I can do that, she’ll think it’s because she’s important.’

‘I thought you said she was nice?’

‘She is, honestly. She came from a well-to-do family, but she didn’t have any airs and graces.’

‘There you go. I’ll find her home number and one evening you can call her. Listen, she’ll be pleased to hear from someone from her own country.’

That night, Gracie went home with the copy of
Vogue
and Valerie’s home number, which she put in her wallet.

Ross was sharing the limelight with his wife, showing the copy of
Vogue
to all his staff, saying how well she was
doing, how proud he was of her and bathing in her glory! He bought a huge bouquet of flowers to take home that evening and booked a table at Sardi’s for dinner.

When she arrived home, she was overwhelmed by his attention and delighted that he was taking it all so well.

‘Well honey, Sardi’s is where all the stars dine so I thought it a fitting place to take you to celebrate.’

She was deeply touched at his thoughtfulness and took care dressing for the evening. When they arrived at the restaurant, the manager was more than welcoming. He complimented her on the cover. She thanked him, somewhat puzzled as to how he knew, but then Ross explained.

‘I told him when I booked the table. After all honey, you are going to be someone and I wanted them to know who you were. One day a picture of you could join all these.’ He pointed to the walls covered with signed copies of movie stars and other public figures.

She was angry. ‘Oh for goodness’ sake Ross, I thought we were going to have a private dinner to celebrate without all this fuss. Don’t do that again if we go out or I’ll get up and leave!’

He looked nonplussed. ‘I don’t understand you at all.’

‘That’s becoming obvious to me as each day passes. Well let me explain. I love my work and as it happens so far I have met with a little success, but don’t let it go to your head. I don’t want all this fuss, I just want to get on with my life, as quietly as possible!’

‘Are you crazy? Do you realise just how hard it is in this city to get recognition for anything? People have to slug their guts out to get where you are today, yet you dismiss it so readily. I would give my right arm to have your exposure!’

‘That’s where we are different, Ross. I paint for the love of it and nothing more. You are ambitious and that’s your way, and in your line I can see you must be in order to succeed, but I’m not like you in that respect!’

The waiter came over to take their order but there was a tense atmosphere between them for the rest of the meal and as they ate, mostly in silence, Valerie remembered that Max had predicted that their marriage might suffer. She couldn’t help but think he was right in his assumption.

Two months later, Max arranged another viewing, but this time solely of Valerie’s paintings. There were several watercolours she’d painted earlier and three of those worked in oils. In the foyer of the art gallery was a blown-up photo of her on the front cover of
Vogue.

This time it was Ross who accompanied her, resplendent in a dinner jacket, delighted that he would be recognised as her husband, his arm round Valerie’s waist to emphasise his position. Charming those who were introduced to him.

Max walked over to them, shook Ross by the hand, kissed Valerie on her cheek and, making excuses to Ross, led her away to talk to the reporters. This time the price of her paintings had skyrocketed. She hid a smile as she looked at the price tickets beside the label with the title of the painting, inwardly doubting that anyone would pay that much.

She was so busy during the next hour, she didn’t see Ross to talk to, but as her last client walked away, she glanced over to him and was puzzled when she saw him handing a business card to a gentleman to whom he was chatting. The smug grin on Ross’s face made her walk over to him.

‘What was that all about?’ she asked.

‘I think I’ve just got myself another client!’ he declared, smiling at her.

‘You what?’ She was furious. ‘Have you been touting for business at my exhibition?’

‘What better place? There are rich pickings here, honey.’

Trying to keep her voice low she raged at him. ‘How dare you! How dare you use me in this way. It’s like a form of prostitution and you working as a pimp! This is the last time you will be invited to any of my viewings, understand?’

He looked surprised. ‘You can’t mean that?’

‘Indeed I do! I will make sure you are refused entry to another!’ She walked away, fuming.

Max had been watching this scene from across the room. Taking two glasses of champagne from a tray, he wandered over to her. ‘You look as if you need this,’ he said and handed her a glass.

Her eyes flashing she turned to her mentor. ‘You won’t believe this but Ross has been touting for business. Here! Tonight! I won’t have him use me this way. I’ve told him he will never come to another viewing of mine!’

Max was silent. It didn’t surprise him. He didn’t like Ross Johnson, never had and he could well understand Valerie’s distress and anger. Once again, Ross had let her down.

Valerie looked at him. ‘Get me out of here Max before I explode!’

He took her glass and put it on a table with his, held her arm and led her out of the building through a back entrance, hailed a taxi and took her to his apartment.

When they arrived, Valerie threw off her wrap, lit a cigarette and walked up and down the room fuming. Max ignored her and made some coffee then he led her to the settee and sat her down, the coffee placed on the table in front of them. He drew her into his arms and held her close.

‘Calm down,’ he said softly. ‘What’s done is done, it’s over. He won’t be able to do that again if he is barred from any further exhibitions. Now just relax.’

Tears of frustration trickled down her cheeks. She looked up at Max. ‘How could he do such a thing?’

Max gazed at her tear-stained face and slowly leaning forward, he kissed her. For just a moment her lips remained closed, but then she returned his kisses willingly. There was a hunger in both of them and the need within them grew until they both rapidly removed their clothing, Max lifted her naked body into his arms and carried her into the bedroom.