Chronology of Events
at sea from Nice to Capri
Friday, August 12
Compliments of the doctor in June's apartment building, I have enough pain killers to last the voyage, and had a good sleep last night, despite my troubled state of mind.
But though I'm going around like a zombie, Ingrid seems totally oblivious, and apparently, our liaison has been moving forward without my knowledge.
Tonight, she's declared that this is the first serious relationship she's had. I wanted to try and explain, but she was so endearing, the only decent thing seemed to be a show of affection.
Paul finds that the Swedish princess Ingrid has become infatuated with him, and has a dream that they marry.
Saturday, August 13
Had the strangest bunch of dreams last night. In the first, I tried diplomatic means to disentangle myself from Ingrid. Then Rachel, followed by some Swedish officials tried to keep me away from the princess, insisting on her royal responsibilities, but we ran off together and got married.
Then we were back on Rachel's boat, but this time it was the Swedish Royal Yacht, and we were on our honeymoon.
I made a flowery declaration about the beautiful weeks ahead of us on the cruise, but then we got word the king was dead, and Ingrid was the new queen, so we had to return to her responsibilities in Stockholm.
But just after our coronation, standing on the palace balcony, waving at a cheering throng, a courtier called me aside, and said, “I'm deeply sorry, King Paul,” and repeated the words of the diagnosis.
Walked the deck for a while, and didn't get more than a further hour's sleep. Wrote a long letter to Katie, and asked if there was a better way we could keep in touch.
During the day, though in a very contorted mood, I tried to walk Ingrid all over the island, to beautiful romantic places, and make our time together as special for her as possible.
But I must have overdone it, because she came to my stateroom a few minutes ago, and said that she'd always felt like a sacrificial virgin who had no life of her own, but couldn't go on that way any longer.
What came next was very embarrassing. She said that she wanted to be my wife - starting tonight.
Not just her chiding from the dream, but Rachel's real admonitions about “maintaining protocol” with the princess hit me straight on, and I wondered what awful thing I'd done to have led this dear girl to make the assumptions she had.
To tell any infatuated woman - much less a royal princess - that you don't love her must be one of the hardest things in the world, but it was the only thing I could do.
Paul and Ingrid spend a romantic day on Capri, but in the evening, he has to explain that he doesn't love her when she tells him that she wants to marry him.
Sunday, August 14
The two flowers - one blue and one yellow - that Ingrid had personally added to my breakfast tray every day were not there this morning.
We'd docked early, but the pill I'd taken last night for a dreamless sleep had kept me out until 9. Rachel was the first person I saw on deck, and she handed me a letter, saying that Ingrid had disembarked at 6, and was already off the island.
How to try and do every thing right, and fail completely in three easy lessons. I felt totally rotten, but thanked her, and walked off the boat.
Spent most of the day sitting by a rock pool, thinking about all the history of this place, and generally feeling sorry for Ingrid, and of course, most of all, myself. Hope that's all out of my system now.
Ramon lightened things a little by telling me that he attempted to fleece Rachel today, and that she turned the tables on him. Meanwhile, he's cooked up some deal with her assistant, but I know that Rachel's always ahead of Everyone.
Another lift was the arrival of Pete and June, he from testing in Malaga and she - well, I'm not quite sure, but know that they didn't come on the same plane.
I am shaken. On deck with Pete when a steward told me there was a call from Kate. But she spoke only briefly, and said that Armand wanted to talk to me.
My heart sank, and I noticed my hand trembling. But I couldn't have been prepared for his words. He said that a donation had just been made to The Garms Clinic for five million dollars.
“I pray it will help,” he added, and said that his only request had been that the name of the organization be changed to The Odette de Martignac Medical Research Foundation.
“Not just in her honor,” he told me, but in the knowledge her name would bring more contributions after his. He had already told Rachel, and asked me to collect donations from her other guests for Odette's charity.
His voice faltered, and my heart went out to him. I could hardly speak, but mumbled something about a beautiful gesture. Katie came on the line then, saying that she would call me in a few days.
A few days. As glorious as this contribution is, the words remind me that so little time must be left to me now that even a billion wouldn't help. And she won't be calling tomorrow or while I'm in Sicily. It must mean that she's not coming back.
Ingrid leaves the ship early in the morning, and Paul spends the day alone on Malta.
Ramon tells Rachel that he has to leave the cruise, and return to his ranch in Andorra after a disaster. She says that she wants him to stay, and that he doesn't need to raise financing, and writes a check for $30,000.
But instead of giving it to Ramon, she hands it to her assistant, and tells him to go to Andorra, and sort out any problems.
Ramon protests that only he can handle these things, but Rachel won't hear of it.
As a last resort, Ramon goes to the assistant, admits that he has no ranch, and makes a deal to split the money, getting only $12,500 for himself.
Before the yacht leaves port, Paul receives a call from Armand de Martignac, saying that he's given a five-million-dollar contribution to the clinic researching a cure for Paul's disease.
at sea from Valetta to Palermo
Monday, August 15
Rachel approached me this morning, and said that she'd spoken to Armand about the foundation being set up in Odette's name, indicating that I would be collecting funds. I nodded, and she gave me a check for $750,000.
By mid morning I been handed a further million, and then was hailed by a man I'd been eager to meet since he boarded in Capri.
The great Swiss industrialist, Erich Krieger, was on deck with his secretary Michele, whom I hadn't seen previously. Even in the shadow of her dynamic boss, I couldn't help noting what a personable lady she is.
Krieger told me to come by his cabin this afternoon as he wants to make a donation for Odette's foundation. I phoned Barry Givens - purposely bypassing Dr. Walker. Barry said all hell had broken loose at the clinic over the bequest from the Count. Count?
I had never heard Armand referred to as a Count, but when I went back and found the order of service from Odette's funeral, and looked at it, there it was, Odette Comptesse de Martignac.
Barry said that the Board were being assembled to make a decision about changing the clinic's name, and Dr. Walker was already strongly opposed.
I asked if that meant they might not accept the money, and Barry wasn't sure. Told him it was possible I might even have a further three million, but the checks were made out to the new name. We agreed to stay in touch, and he reminded me about the appointment he'd made for the 30th with Dr. Lamas in Spain.
Put checks worth 2.4 million into Rachel's safe after lunch, including one in Swiss Francs for something over $500,000 from Erich Krieger.
He's a fascinating man - a little stiff, but with warmth underneath that shows through here and there. Telling me that he and Odette had been students together at the Sorbonne, he said that he was glad to do something in her memory - adding that he didn't usually engage in philanthropy.
I've listened spellbound to his most casual remarks, and began to understand how sheer force of personality could make the impossible happen. Nothing to do with charm or charisma, but pure strength of character.
What amazed me most was that he was aware of me from motor racing, and had seen me drive at Le Mans. When I turned to leave, he even invited me to his home for skiing in November.
It was probably a carryover from the moving call with Armand and Kate last night, but I almost found myself breaking into tears, and made a hasty exit after offering my thanks and acceptance.
.…. And walked straight into June Bradley. I'd barely seen Pete and June since they boarded, and she was overtly distressed at my appearance, asking what was wrong.“Armand …. Kate …. “ was my faltering reply, and she gave me a warm hug, and drew me into her cabin.
Mixing a drink for me, she said that her father would send the foundation a couple million, but she wasn't so rich. However, June then proceeded to write a check for $100,000, and pressed it into my hand, hugging me again.
We then had the most profound and serious conversation, and I realized that, without really knowing it, we had become deeply close friends. June spoke at length about Pete, their relationship, his future and theirs together.
I came away finally knowing that she was so much more than just the pretty rich girl I'd kept considering June to be, despite her Harvard MBA and high-powered job.
Michele certainly lit the room up this evening when she walked into the forward lounge on Krieger's arm. He's an incredible raconteur, and she is simply gorgeous.
A visionary industrialist, it's been a privilege to listen to his exploits of how the Swiss can slide into situations where other nationals would encounter only culture clash.
June said her father had been dealing with Krieger since before she was born, but that Pete was wary about the secretary. ???
But the main subject of conversation was the theft last night of the famous Carpella Collection from a Roman palazzo.
Besides concerns all these people have about the security of their property, there were loads of theories going round, and the robbery seemed to bring out the detective in just about everyone, including myself.
Having learned this afternoon that Krieger & Co. are leaving the ship tomorrow, I made a point of monopolizing Michele's company as much of the evening as possible, trying to drown out all the things that were plaguing my mind.
When I saw Michele back to her cabin, she invited me for a drink, and I was fascinated to see that she had the exact same luggage I did - the really unusual piece I'd bought when Kate and I were in Madrid.
We had a nice chat, talking mostly about The Carpella Collection. Such a captivating subject, but I was surprised to find Michele is also a racing fan - at the Riviera Rally last September when I navigated for Jeff Daulton as well as being with her boss at Le Mans.
Again and again, I saw how our paths had crossed, and wondered how I could have missed such a glamorous woman. When I got back here to my stateroom, stuffed another half million in checks into my cabin safe from this evening, and have lost track of the total.
Like Dr. Onol's pills, the Turkish meal we had last night certainly didn't agree with my psyche.
I was falling asleep with pleasant thoughts of Michele, and how it would be nice to spend some time in Switzerland, in a better mood than all the time since leaving San Francisco.
But then! What a dream. I'd gone on a cruise with Michele aboard Krieger's yacht - only it was this one, and was going to a race in Torino afterwards.
But our luggage got switched by the chauffeur, and the lovely dream turned into a nightmare, with some guy trying to run me off the road - but getting killed himself.
Then there was Michele slipping into my hotel room in the middle of the night - with a gun, saying that I had stolen the Carpella Collection from her boss. True enough, the jewels were in my bag, but it was Michele who'd been carrying them as a courier for Krieger.
It was very confusing, and she took them away, but the next moment I was kidnapped by Krieger's security men, and called on the carpet because the jewels Michele had taken from the switched luggage were fakes.
I then used Krieger's aged mother as a shield, and went on the run. It was like the dream when Mike and I were moving through the “jungle” of southern California.
On and on and on went the flight around the Riviera both with support and interference of the French police, becoming more and more surreal and confusing.
At one point I was entreating a cute phone operator who resembled Kate's maid for an Interlaken number. In the end, it turned out that Michele herself was the thief, and had set the whole thing up, based on our matching luggage.
How will I face them this morning! Meanwhile, I'm hoping I can get another hour or two of sleep.
NOTE: There were too many factual anomalies in "The Carpella Collection" to make it anything but a dream.
16 - 23 August 1966 ("The Inhuman Predicament" part 3 /
"Cry Hard, Cry Fast")
Substantial contributions are made by the wealthy guests on Rachel's yacht to the foundation in Odette's name.
One is from Erich Krieger who is on board with his secretary, Michele.
All the guests are talking about a major jewel robbery that has just occurred in Rome, and Paul has a dream that the secretary is involved, and has set him up to look like the thief - while she gets the jewels.