To Be the Best by Barbara Taylor Bradford Read Free Book Online Page B

weekend, Uncle Ronnie?’
    ‘Yes, I am, my dear.’
    ‘Then why don’t you drive over to Nutton Priory, and have a chat with him. He’s always much more relaxed when he’s in the country.’
    ‘I think I shall do that,’ Sir Ronald said. ‘And my thanks to you, Paula, you’ve been most helpful.’
    Michael flashed her one of his engaging smiles. ‘Yes, thanks, we really do appreciate your input.’ He sipped his wine and his light blue eyes grew thoughtful and after a moment he asked, ‘By the way, just out of curiosity, is Sarah Lowther still married to that French painter? Or don’t you hear anything about her any more?’
    ‘Obviously not directly, since I kicked her out of the family along with Jonathan,’ Paula murmured, the gaiety on her face instantly fading. ‘But there was a piece on Yves Pascal in a French magazine about six months ago… Paris Match, I believe. Anyway, amongst the many photographs was one of Sarah and Yves and their five-year-old daughter, Chloe. Seemingly they live in Mougins in the Alpes-Maritimes. They own an old farmhouse; that’s where he has his studio. He’s known as the enfant terrible of French art, and he’s become very big, immensely successful.’
    Michael said, ‘He’s a damned good painter actually, although his work’s not my cup of tea. Having been raised on the school of French Impressionist painting, all this ultramodern stuff leaves me utterly unmoved. Give me Monet, Manet, Sisley and van Gogh any day of the week.’
    ‘Absolutely,’ Paula agreed.
    ‘And talking of Sarah, whatever happened to her partner in crime, Jonathan Ainsley?’ Michael stared at Paula, frowning. ‘Is he still lurking in the Far East?’
    ‘I believe so, but not even Sandy knows for sure,’ Paula said, her voice low and unemotional. ‘Friends of Emily’sreported seeing him in Hong Kong, and then Singapore on another occasion. Jonathan’s dividends and the balance sheets of Harte Enterprises go to a firm of accountants here in London who handle his business seemingly.’ She made a sour face. ‘Just so long as he doesn’t show up in England, that’s all that matters to me. As Emma would have said, good riddance to bad rubbish.’
    ‘Christ, yes!’ Michael began to shake his head wonderingly. ‘I’ve never been able to understand why he did what he did. He was such a fool – bloody stupid if you ask me. He had everything going for himself and he threw it all away.’
    ‘Perhaps he believed he would never get caught,’ Sir Ronald ventured to Michael. ‘But then I’m sure he hadn’t bargained for this one here.’ He glanced at Paula through the corner of his eye, patted her arm and finished with a chuckle, ‘He met his match in you, my dear, no doubt about that whatsoever.’
    Paula attempted to laugh with him but it came out sounding forced and artificial, and for a moment she did not trust herself to speak. She was hating this discussion about Jonathan Ainsley, her cousin, her deadly enemy of long ago.
    Michael pressed, ‘And so nobody in the family knows what he’s doing for a living?’
    Paula stared at Michael through eyes grown bleak and flat. She gave him a long and careful look, and pursed her lips, a habit she had picked up from her grandmother years before. After a split second, she said with a certain pithiness, ‘Jonathan Ainsley doesn’t have to earn a living, since he receives a very sizeable income from Harte Enterprises.’ There was a small pause before she thought to add, ‘And nobody’s ever bothered to find out about his personal or business life…because none of us care what’s happened to him.’ Now frowning in perplexity, and pinning Michael with her vivid blue gaze, Paula asked testily, ‘Why the sudden preoccupation with Jonathan anyway?’
    ‘I don’t know, I haven’t thought about him in years, and now, unexpectedly, I’m riddled with curiosity,’ Michael admitted with a rueful grin.
    ‘I’m not.’ Despite the warmth of the