by Anna Jacobs
For once, he drew no comfort from the sense of solid continuity to Gilles D’Estaing, who had carved out his own territory in the conquered foreign land of England, or to the many ancestors who had allowed their name to be twisted into a more English sound. He raised the glass, drinking a silent toast to Araminta Destang, his favourite ancestor, who had saved the estate from destruction during the Civil War. ‘Paul Destan!’ he toasted next. The poor fellow had lost an arm at Waterloo, but had gone on to sire four sons. And had made the final name change.
Jonathon went to look for some more whisky, opened his reserve bottle and drank to Rosalind’s health, trying to ignore the tears trickling down his face. Who said men didn’t cry? He’d cried when the court awarded custody of his sons to Isabel. And he was crying now.
How was Rosalind feeling? Was she missing him? Would she weep into her pillow tonight?
In Australia Paul Stevenson paced up and down the hall of his own house. Louise was in bed after a very unpleasant day, having cried herself to a complete standstill as he and Audrey went through her room with a fine toothcomb, exposing the evidence of her peccadilloes, which were not as bad, thank goodness, as he had feared. Though he hadn’t said that to her. No, he had acted as if she were ripe for the gallows and he the hangman, while she wept and sobbed and promised him whatever he demanded.
‘Take out that bloody nose ring for a start!’ he’d roared, and when she’d done so, he’d tossed it into the rubbish bin.
And while he ranted on at Louise, Audrey had sat and watched, tight-lipped. He hoped she was upset behind that stoical mask. She should be. She’d failed lamentably and she knew it, the silly old bat. But at least she hadn’t wept on him as his daughter had.
God, how he hated snivelling women! And although Louise had promised faithfully not to misbehave any more, he wasn’t going to leave her in Australia. You couldn’t trust seventeen-year-olds to live on their own. You needed to watch them all the time.
His two youngest had taught him that, by God they had, and he didn’t intend to fail with Louise as he had with Tim. She was going to grow tougher and she was going to do well in life. He hated other people boasting about how successful their grown-up children were, hated being unable to match tales with them. Hated most of all the thought that his children had grown into fools and wastrels.
For the first time he wondered if Ros had been right and it had been unwise to take her away at precisely this time in Louise’s development. Then he shrugged. It was essential to his career that his wife loosen her ties to Perth. That had to come first. Perhaps he should have let Louise come to England with them, then? On reflection, he supposed so – and would have done if he’d known all the facts. But he hadn’t really wanted a teenage daughter hanging around. He still didn’t.
Hell, he was horny tonight. Solving a crisis always had that effect on him. And Liz was only a few hundred yards away. He listened. Not a sound. Louise had been so exhausted she’d barely made it up the stairs before tumbling into bed. Maybe he could arrange something? He could sneak out to Liz’s place if Bill was at one of his meetings – or he could meet her in the garage here so they could screw themselves silly on the old couch. Worth trying. He always thought better when he wasn’t in lust.
He went into his home office and picked up the phone.
Louise, who’d been lying in bed pretending to be asleep and worrying about what her father intended to do with her, heard the sound of the phone and sat up. Who was Dad phoning at this time of night? If he was planning to dump her on someone else, she wanted to know about it.
She crept into her parents’ bedroom and picked up the receiver carefully. She’d listened in a few times from here. The phone system was in excellent order because her father had brought the company back several times to fix things like echoes on the line or clicks from other extensions. As long as you didn’t make a noise and put down the receiver after the other person, no one knew you were listening in.
Her father’s voice. ‘Liz?’
Louise frowned. What was her father phoning her up for? Liz was her mother’s friend and he didn’t get on all that well with her.
‘Paul?’
‘Who else?’
‘I thought we’d agreed not to get in touch.’
‘I’m here in Perth.’
A hiss of indrawn breath.
‘Any chance of seeing you?’
‘No.’
‘Liz, baby, we’re good together. You know we are.’
Louise listened, stunned. Her father’s voice had gone all warm and smarmy, the way it did when he was charming someone. But this was Liz he was talking to, her mother’s friend, and from what he’d said …
‘Surely we can seize an odd moment or two to satisfy our mutual needs? You said Bill was a second-rater in bed. You said you were never satisfied with him. I think you were quite satisfied with my performance, though.’ He chuckled softly.
Louise wrinkled her nostrils in disgust. How gross, to screw her mother’s best friend! And he called what she’d done bad!
‘I thought I made it plain that I don’t want to continue the affair. The last thing I want to do is hurt Rosalind. I must have gone crazy in Hong Kong, but I’m not crazy any more. It’s over. Finito.’ Her voice softened for a moment. ‘It was great, it really was, but it’s finished. Enjoy your life.’ She put the phone down without waiting for an answer.
From below, Louise heard the sound of a phone slamming down, set the handpiece gently in its cradle and hurried into her bedroom, lying with her back to the door so that her face was hidden. Who’d ever have thought it? Liz and her father! Oh, wow! Wait till Tim hears about this.
She sighed, remembering that he wasn’t here any more. She did miss her brother. The two of them had always been close. They were both into Living – with a capital L. Jenny was a wimp and Mum a doormat. A nice doormat, but she still let everyone tread on her. Though actually Dad was a lot kinder to her than to anyone else, so he must have some feelings for her – if not enough to stay faithful.
When she heard footsteps in the stairwell, Louise closed her eyes and started breathing slowly and evenly. He came in to check, of course. He’d said he would and he always did as he’d threatened. He’d told her that if she so much as put her nose outside the house without his permission, she wouldn’t get back inside again. A shiver ran down her spine. He meant it, too. Indignation followed the shiver. Who was he to preach at her when he’d been cheating on her mother? Probably for years.
Tim had hinted at that sort of thing before, said he’d seen Dad out with a young chick once in Sydney, but she hadn’t believed him. She did now. Oh, she wished her brother were here to talk to! He was the only one who understood her.
And she wished she knew what her father was going to do with her. The thought of him tossing her out, so that she had to get a dead-end job and manage on her own, definitely did not appeal. Why should she anyway, when her father was rich? Well, comfortable. So OK, she’d have to toe the line for a bit and that didn’t really appeal, either.
Those oldies forgot what it was like to be young and full of energy. Well, she was full of energy when she took those pills, but how the hell was she going to manage without them now? She’d lost a lot of weight and she looked good. She’d kill herself if she got fat again. Nobody loved you when you were fat.
A tear trickled down her cheek, followed by another. If only Mum was here. Dad was never as bad when Mum was around.
The following morning Paul woke Louise at six, dragging her from the bed, having had an idea about how he could start the new regime. ‘Come on! I’m going running and so are you. I want you where I can keep an eye on you.’
‘Running! But I – Dad, stop! Hey, I don’t do things like that.’
His smile made her shiver. ‘You don’t think I’m going to leave you alone in the house, do you, Louise? You must think I’m a fool.’
‘But I haven’t had any breakfast!’ She hadn’t eaten anything at all y
esterday and she was hollow inside.
‘You don’t get breakfast until afterwards. One exercises on an empty stomach. Hurry up, or I’ll drag you outside in your pyjamas. You’ll need shorts and a T-shirt – and wear some joggers that aren’t simply a fashion statement.’
His expression was so grim she hurried, slumping down breathlessly in her seat as he drove them down to Cottesloe beach. He’d put her mother’s car away and brought out his own. Normally she loved riding in its luxury. It was used so rarely, it was like new. While he’d been away, she’d even toyed with the idea of borrowing it and taking it for a spin, but hadn’t quite dared.
She shivered. A light rain had begun to fall and it was chilly. Well, it was autumn now, after all. ‘Can’t I just stay in the car and watch?’
‘Certainly not. I thought young women liked to keep themselves fit and trim. You’re always worrying about putting on weight. Maybe this is the answer. Those pills certainly aren’t.’
‘I’ve kept my weight down without any of this exercise crap.’
His gaze was as chill and assessing as a meat inspector looking at a carcase. ‘You’re thin, yes, but grossly unfit.’ He gave her upper arm a squeeze and pulled a face at its lack of muscle tone, then slapped her thigh. ‘Flabby! To look good, flesh needs to be firm.’ He got out of the car. ‘Come on! I’m going to run up and down the beach where I can keep an eye on you and if I see you stop moving, you’re in deep trouble. You can do a hundred yards running and a hundred yards walking until I tell you to stop. That’s how beginners start training.’
Anger burned in her, but she kept her mouth closed and did as ordered. She’d watched Tim blurt out defiance and get nowhere with it. Her bastard of a father always had all the answers. At first she did run, thinking she might as well get some benefit from this, but soon her feet felt like lead, an iron band settled round her chest and she could only stagger along. But every time she looked along the beach she could see him staring at her, so she didn’t stop moving.
When he came jogging over to see why she’d slowed down, he looked fit and energetic for all he was nearly fifty, and she could see a couple of young women giving him the eye. She was panting and puffing, was soaked to the skin, felt like death warmed up, and no doubt looked it, too. She hated him – hated him!
‘You’re in worse condition than I thought. All right, I’ll make it a short session today. It’s nearly breakfast time. We’ll go home and shower, then we’ll find a café. There’s nothing to eat at home. It’s very different without your mother’s efficient organisation, but it’s no use stocking up!’
Louise brightened. This was more like it. She loved having breakfast in a café.
But when they got there, he ordered for her – fresh fruit salad and a low-fat muffin – not even asking what she wanted.
‘Couldn’t we have croissants?’ she begged, trying to make her voice as girlie-soft as she could.
‘Full of grease and calories. You are about to get fit, young lady, really fit.’
He didn’t even look up from his newspaper as he spoke.
Louise sat there, fuming inside but not daring to interrupt him. She was so hungry she ate the bloody muffin and picked up the crumbs from her plate with a dampened fingertip.
When he’d read the paper from cover to cover, he leant back and studied her. She hated it when he did that. You could never outstare him.
‘I’ve decided to take you to Hong Kong with me, then on to England. Since I can’t trust you on your own here, I’ll find a cramming school for you in England.’
Her initial surge of joy turned into leaden horror. ‘A school! But I’ve left school.’
‘You obviously left it too soon, before you were mature enough.’
‘But I’m not going to be in England long enough to do any proper studying.’
‘And did you do any proper studying here? Your exam results were pretty pitiful. I had to pull a few strings to get you on that course, you know.’
She slumped down in her chair glaring at him. ‘But I’ve started the course here now.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll arrange a deferral. Or find you somewhere else to study. You do need some qualifications, I agree.’
They drove home in silence, then she went up to sit in her bedroom while he made phone call after phone call. At first she stood behind her bedroom door and listened to his voice floating up the stairs. Hell, he certainly ordered people around! After a while, she grew tired of business talk, put on some music and turned it up loud, trying to lose herself in the beat.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when he erupted into the bedroom and switched the CD player off. ‘No music. Get a book and come downstairs where I can keep an eye on you.’
‘What do you think I’m going to do, climb out of my window?’
He slapped her face, leaving her speechless with shock … and fear.
‘I don’t think you’ve quite realised, Louise, how angry I am. Or how little latitude you have. Now, find yourself a book – no, not a rubbishy spy novel, something worth reading – and come downstairs. We’ll be leaving Perth tomorrow. You can spend this afternoon packing. We’ll pick up the rest of your stuff from your grandmother’s later on.’
‘I’ve never been to Hong Kong,’ she ventured after sitting for a while staring at the travel book he’d provided, a dull thing on ancient temples in Indonesia. Her mother had used something from it for an embroidery. It had looked good, too. ‘What is there to see? What shall I pack?’
‘This won’t be a tourist visit. We’ll be going on from there within a few days to England, so pack for the English spring. A bit like our winter.’
She huffed one shoulder and pretended to read. Stupid pictures of Asians in silly costumes. Who cared about such things?
Paul turned back to his own book, but his mind was on other things. He’d have to find her a minder for the next few days while he tied up the loose ends at the Hong Kong branch. Still, that should be quite easy in a place where labour was cheap. He smiled grimly. She was in for a few shocks, one way or another, his darling little daughter was. All his family were.
He was about to take charge properly. Should have done it years ago, should have insisted on Ros moving to New York or London. Well, better late than never.
Rosalind examined the embroideries Jenny had brought and pressed them carefully. They hadn’t suffered any damage, thank goodness. She invited Harry round to choose one – and couldn’t resist inviting Jonathon, too, feeling guilty but looking forward so much to seeing him and spending a little time in his company.
Jenny hardly left her side all day. ‘I’m sorry to hover – I’m a bit nervous still. It hasn’t got through to my emotions yet that I’m safe. Do you mind?’
‘Not at all. I’ll try to ring your father again.’
When she didn’t get Paul, she tried her mother and what Audrey had to tell her made her feel quite sick with shock.
Jenny, who had been watching, waiting to have a quick word with Gran, came up and put an arm round her mother as she put down the phone and stared around blankly. ‘What’s the matter? Mum! Talk to me, please, Mum!’
Rosalind let Jenny help her to a chair because her legs had turned to rubber. ‘Did you know Louise was misbehaving?’
‘I knew she wasn’t studying much. And that she’d got in with a strange crowd.’
‘You should have told me.’
‘It’s a bit hard for one sister to tell tales on another. I did talk to her, try to make her see sense, but you know what Louise is like.’
‘She’s been using my car, as well. Told your grandmother I’d given her permission.’
Jenny nodded unhappily.
‘And,’ Rosalind had to take a deep breath even to get the dreadful admission out, ‘your grandmother says she’s been on drugs. Drugs! At seventeen!’ And sex, too – her mother had found condoms in Louise’s drawers. ‘I told your father she was too young to leave on her own.’
‘Too immatu
re, you mean. She’s like Tim, greedy for life. Take, take, take.’ Jenny was still worried about her mother’s pallor. ‘You can’t babysit her for ever, Mum. She has to go out and face the world sometime, even if she mucks things up. It’s the only way she’ll learn. Shall I make you a coffee?’
Rosalind stared at her blindly, without answering. When the doorbell rang, she didn’t even seem to hear it, just continued to stare into space and pleat the material of her skirt.
Jenny went to open it and found herself facing two strangers, both very tall and bony, obviously related. ‘You must be Jonathon and Harry Destan.’
‘Yes, we are. And you’re Jenny.’ The woman smiled at her. ‘You look so like your mother.’
‘Yes, I suppose I do. Look, come in. I’m afraid Mother’s just had a bit of a shock.’
‘What’s wrong?’ Harry nudged her brother as she spoke because he looked as if he was about to rush off to find Rosalind. Luckily Jenny was gazing towards the kitchen not at her visitors.
‘Not – news about your brother?’ Harry enquired. They both knew how worried Rosalind was about her son.
‘No. Mum phoned Gran and found out that my younger sister has gone off the rails a bit and my father’s had to fly down to sort things out.’ Jenny led the way into the family area near the kitchen. Her mother was still sitting there, but when she saw the visitors she stood up and tried to remember her duties as hostess.
‘Harry, Jonathon. Do come and sit down. I’ll – um, get you some coffee and—’ She stopped and shook her head saying hoarsely, ‘I’m sorry. It’s not a good time just now. Could you come back tomorrow?’
Only when they’d gone did it occur to Rosalind that if Paul was in Perth he’d probably be at home. Even before the front door had closed on her visitors, she was picking up the phone. ‘Paul! Oh, thank goodness I’ve caught you. How’s Louise?’
‘Subdued. Look, I’ll tell you all about it when I get back. It’s not the sort of thing to discuss on the phone.’
She had to know. ‘Mum said drugs – and sex.’