Wild Justice

by Liz Fielding

  'Did you?' Edward asked, thoughtfully. 'Is your mother English?

  'She was,' Melanie confirmed, a little sadly. 'She died last year. How did you guess?'

  'The way you said "terribly good". You don't hear it much these days.' He took a deep breath. 'Will you two young ladies excuse me for a moment? I think I need a drink.'

  'And something to eat,' Melanie exclaimed. 'Giving a party is such hard work. I'm positively starving.' She linked her arms through theirs and led them both into the drawing room.

  'Are you all right, Dad?' Fizz asked, quietly, as Melanie led the way along the table, heaping food upon their plates.

  'Me? Absolutely fine. It was just something Melanie said reminded me of someone I once knew, that was all. Silly. It was years ago.'

  She wasn't shocked. Her father, after all, had never pretended to be a saint. That had been her mother's role.

  'What happened?'

  He shrugged. 'Your mother's accident. Poor woman-' Fizz stopped him with a warning touch to his arm as Melanie reached the end of the table. 'We lost touch. She moved on. Found someone else I suppose.'

  He turned away as an acquaintance claimed his attention and she was left holding two plates of food that she didn't want. Spotting Andy sulking in a corner, she took one of them across to him. He didn't look as if he was enjoying himself any more than she was.

  'You're an unlikely wallflower at a party, Andy, but since you're not dancing would you help me out with one of these?'

  He took the plate she proffered and gave Fizz a tentative smile. 'Does this mean I'm forgiven for being an absolute heel earlier on?'

  'No. It means I've been lumbered with a spare plate.' She gave him a look that betrayed her exasperation. 'You're handling this very badly, Andy. I know you're not used to having to make much of an effort, but Melanie Brett isn't your average girl.' She no longer felt the slightest guilt in urging Andy to woo Melanie away from a man who was clearly capable of such brutal infidelity.

  'You've changed your tune,' Andy said, with surprise. 'Anyway Melanie's been told by that pompous great -' He managed to stop himself before using a word that Fizz's expression told him he would regret. 'She has been told to be a good little girl and play hostess to her guests. No dancing, no disappearing act. Not that he's making the same sacrifice I notice.'

  Fizz ignored this. Her own behaviour wouldn't bear close scrutiny and she certainly had no wish to discuss Luke Devlin's. 'You know Andy, you could try using your imagination for a change.'

  He gave her a long look. 'What is that supposed to mean?'

  Advice to the lovelorn. It would make a good programme. Letters, music and advice. Maybe she could start a new career as an agony aunt. With a sigh, she buried her impatience. This was all new territory for Andy.

  'You could try being a little less selfish. This is her party, so she can't just waltz off and have a good time. She has to make sure everyone else is enjoying themselves, no one is left on their own. But I'm sure she'd love to have your company, your help, particularly with some of the locals. They are simply dying to talk to her but don't quite dare. Now Luke Devlin can hardly object to that, can he? And I'm sure that Melanie will be very grateful.'

  'How grateful?'

  He was a slow learner. 'If you'll take my advice, Andy, for what it's worth, don't try and take it too fast.'

  Andy grinned. 'You mean I should invite her to tea with my dear old Mum?'

  She shrugged. 'Why not. It's certainly original enough to tempt her.'

  'Is that what it's going to take to woo you, Fizz?' he asked.

  'I'm not in the market for wooing, Andy.'

  He leaned across and kissed her cheek. 'That's a pity. You've a glow about you tonight. You haven't been on the Thunderbolt have you?'

  'You've used up your ration of cheek for this month, Mr Gilbert. I'd go and find Melanie if I were you and give her a bit of moral support.'

  She certainly wasn't getting it from Luke. His entire attention was directed towards making sure that Claudia was having a good time.

  She watched as he directed her down the buffet, offering her a taste of anything she was uncertain of from his own plate, laughing as she pulled a face at something she had nibbled from the end of his fork. As a performance it was beautifully judged.

  It was extraordinary, Fizz thought. For a man who didn't have a good word to say for the Beaumonts a week ago, he was certainly going out of his way to cultivate their company tonight.

  Jealousy was an unpleasant emotion. But as Fizz watched her sister flirting with the ease of long practise and saw Luke Devlin responding, she knew the feeling that was twisting her stomach into knots could be nothing else. Jealousy.

  It wouldn't be so bad if the attraction had been genuine, but even before she had seen the newspaper clipping she suspected from his remarks that Luke had no great admiration for her sister. It could be, of course, that mutual respect had no place in his pursuit of women. It could be that he collected them in the same way he collected companies.

  CHAPTER NINE

  'FIZZ?' Andy took her arm, suddenly full of concern. 'Look, Melanie can wait. Would you like to go and have a dance or something?'

  'What?' A dance was the last thing she wanted, but she could hardly get up and run from the room, which was what she wanted to do more than anything in the world. But neither could she bear to go on sitting there, watching the pair of them. 'Oh, a dance.' She gladly abandoned her untouched plate and allowed Andy to lead her across the room. No one, least of all Luke Devlin, took the slightest bit of notice. Once in the hall, however, she let him go. 'I don't think I want to dance after all, Andy. Go and find Melanie. She needs someone to look after her more than I do,' she said.

  He hesitated, clearly torn. 'Are you sure?'

  She forced a smile. 'Yes, of course. Don't waste time arguing, just go.' She gave him a little push back into the drawing room. 'And if you see Dad will you tell him that I've gone home?'

  She found her cloak, swung it around her shoulders and shivered as she stepped out into a freezing night. It had stopped snowing, she saw with relief. There was just a light frosting, like the sprinkle of icing sugar on a sponge. And the clouds had rolled inland leaving a frosty night bright with stars that threw a silver sheen across the quiet surface of the sea.

  Behind her the noise of the party rose and fell, the thump of the band a solid under blanket of sound. Afraid that someone might have seen her, would come after her, she hurried across the ice-slicked gravel, the thin soles of her high-heeled shoes slipping treacherously as she found her way to her car in the darkness. By the time she tried to fit her key into the lock she was shivering so much that it took her several tries before she managed to finally open the door.

  Once inside she made a determined effort to get a grip on herself. The car, in good working order despite its age, started immediately and taking enormous care manoeuvring around the dozens of cars parked along the drive, she made it without mishap to the road. The gritting lorries had already been out she was relieved to see and automatically switching on the radio she heard the late night presenter warning drivers to take care on the narrow lanes that might not be reached until morning.

  That was her life, she reminded herself.

  Her radio station, serving the community night and day. She had lost her head over a man once before. To risk it again over a man like Luke Devlin would be madness.

  Her sister could have him, and welcome to him. And, as if to prove to herself that she didn't care one way or the other, she didn't go home, but headed her car towards the seafront and parked facing the sea. It was dark but for the navigation lights of ships passing in the distance and the reflection of the line of lamps that punctuated the elegant wrought iron railings of the pier.

  At the far end, the pavilion lay like a ghost, reflecting the faint frosty starlight from its white domes.

  Inside, the small night staff fortified with endless coffee and sandwiches would be keeping everythin
g ticking over until dawn, monitoring the news bulletins from IRN, keeping the night owls fed with music and chat and she suddenly had a great longing to be there, with them.

  She needed to remind herself that just a few days ago she had thought getting her wings singed in Luke Devlin's flame was worth the sacrifice if it meant she could hang on to this. So she got out of her car and, because it was locked at night, used her key to let herself onto the pier. Then she walked its silent length, her dark cloak billowing around her ankles.

  She arrived home just before six the next morning, preferring to stay with the night crew, sharing their coffee and their jokes rather than return to her empty flat and face her thoughts. But when the day crew began to arrive, giving her curious looks, she realised it was time to leave.

  Someone had been there before her. Luke. She immediately recognised the handwriting on the envelope propped up against the front door. She picked up the envelope and the delicate bunch of snowdrops that lay beside it. She lifted them to her nose and caught the elusive scent of cold woodland, smiling despite herself at the thought of Luke Devlin out in the freezing night picking snowdrops for her. Tying them up with a piece of narrow white ribbon.

  What on earth did he mean by it? She gently stroked the satin, pulling it between her finger and thumb as if it might give her some clue. It sprung back into a slight kink. She looked at it more closely, saw the faint telltale buckling where it had been threaded through eyelets and the smile abruptly left her face.

  The ribbon wasn't new. Well no. Where would a man get ribbon in the early hours of a Sunday morning? Easy. You raid your lover's lingerie. A nightdress or petticoat. She couldn't believe the nerve of the man. To tie up snowdrops of all things! A symbol of everything that was brave and pure.

  She carried them into the kitchen and dumped flowers, ribbon, envelope straight into the pedal bin beneath the sink, letting the lid fall with a satisfyingly loud thunk. She didn't want his flowers, she didn't want to read his apology. If it was an apology.

  Still wrapped in thought, she showered using her own soap, with her own scent. And afterwards she walked along the cliff path until cold and the knowledge that her father would be expecting her for lunch, drove her back home.

  *****

  Sunday lunch was a time Fizz shared with her father whenever she could although lack of sleep was beginning to catch up with her. Or maybe it was the knowledge that Claudia would be there that made her feet drag. But when she arrived at her father's house, just before one, Claudia was still in her own apartment.

  It was nearly one-thirty when she finally stuck her head around the door. 'Sorry, overslept. I was terribly late in.'

  'Sherry?' Edward Beaumont was clearly irritated and Fizz held her breath. Her father didn't often lose his temper. When he did, the results tended to be spectacular. She had inherited her own short fuse from him. But Claudia was oblivious.

  'Thanks. Wasn't it a wonderful party, last night?'

  'You certainly seemed to have difficulty dragging yourself away.'

  'I didn't wake you up did I?'

  'Somebody did and since we haven't been burgled I can only assume it was you.' Fizz watched them fencing with words, standing back like a child watching a game played by the grown-ups. 'Around four o'clock? Does that ring a bell?'

  Fizz greeted the housekeeper's announcement that lunch was ready with relief, although it was short-lived as all through it Claudia waxed lyrical about Luke, Melanie and Winterbourne Manor.

  'What a gorgeous house. And that four-poster bed!' She turned to Fizz. 'You've already seen it of course.'

  'Have you?' her father asked, surprised.

  'Luke asked me to accompany him when he viewed some properties. Winterbourne Manor was one of them,' she replied, with every appearance of outward calm.

  'Oh, I didn't know that,' Claudia said. 'I was thinking of your little, um, lie down yesterday evening. I suppose you left early because of your headache. How is it this morning?'

  'I'm quite recovered, thank you. I'm sorry I missed you, since you were so anxious to talk.'

  'Oh, not to worry. We all went out into the snow. Quite silly, really. And since the gardens are just full of snowdrops we decided to pick some.'

  'Anyone would think you'd never seen a snowdrop before,' Edward said, with a snort of disgust. 'The garden here is full of them, but you always complain about getting your feet muddy if you have to leave the path.' He turned to Fizz, clearly out of patience with his older daughter. 'Have you told Claudia about the changes to Holiday Bay?'

  'Not yet.'

  'I understand dear little Melanie is going to be given a part.'

  Fizz gave her a long look, distrusting that smile. 'Yes, there's going to have to be a new twist to the storyline. I've called a script conference for first thing Monday morning. I'd like them written and recorded as soon as possible.'

  'There's no rush is there?' Claudia asked, casually. Too casually. 'I'll be here all next week.'

  Fizz frowned. 'Will you? What about your chocolate commercial?'

  'It's run into a bit of a problem. Apparently some of The Chocolate Company's shareholders objected to the slant the campaign was taking.'

  'Which chocolate company?' Edward asked.

  'No, that's it's name. The Chocolate Company. It's new, a bit upmarket and they're launching in the autumn in time for the Christmas trade.'

  'Oh, I see. Well, in my experience shareholders don't give a damn so long as the profits are rolling in and the dividends are up,' her father, said, cynically.

  'There was rather a lot of publicity about the campaign,' Claudia said, defensively. 'About it being sexy.'

  'Yes, I saw some it.' He leaned back in his chair. 'And now they've dropped it you say? Well, it was nicely done. They've had their publicity for nothing and now they'll whip up another hoo-ha about dropping the campaign. Advertising on the cheap. I hope your contract was signed and sealed this time.' He turned to Fizz. 'You heard about the Spanish fiasco, I suppose?'

  'Of course it was signed,' Claudia said, defensively. 'But I'll only get the flat fee agreed for filming the first episode.'

  He snorted derisively. 'You've been had my girl. They've used your name and your photograph to guarantee publicity for their product and they've paid you peanuts for the privilege. If they're lucky they'll get a re-run on the back of the cancellation of the campaign. I'd seriously consider changing my agent if I were you.'

  'Wasn't it going to be one of those serial ads that run and run?' Fizz asked, concerned for her sister. 'Years of work?'

  'I'll survive. To be honest I'm not sure that I want to play a girl incapable of saying no if she's offered the right brand of chocolate.'

  'Sounds like typecasting to me,' her father said, unkindly. 'And you weren't so fussy when you thought you would have your face all over the television seven nights a week.'

  Claudia pointedly ignored this. 'Well, it can't be helped. And since I'm not working for a while, Fizz, it means I can stay in Broomhill. Get to know Melanie better. And Luke,' she said, with a teasing little smile.

  But Fizz was tired of Claudia's game. 'Are you sure Melanie wants to know you? After what you said to that reporter in Australia?'

  Claudia blushed. Fizz would have taken an oath that her sister had forgotten how, but there was no mistaking the real thing. 'How do you know about that?'

  'Know about what?' Edward looked up from his roast lamb.

  'Claudia wasn't very kind about Melanie. Unfortunately she was talking to a reporter at the time.' She looked at her sister. 'I wasn't sure if you'd seen it.'

  Claudia glared at her. 'Of course I've seen it. But I didn't say anything like that.' But she had. The colour in her cheeks could mean nothing else.

  'What are you two talking about?'

  'Nothing important, Dad. Would you like another glass of wine?' Claudia was suddenly all attention.

  'I'd still like to get the recordings done as quickly as possible,' Fizz went on. 'Just in
case you get called up for some fabulous part you can't possibly refuse,' she added, to soften her words.

  'There doesn't seem to be much chance of that. I don't seem to be flavour of the month.'

  Fizz frowned, but she knew her sister well enough to know when to let a subject drop. She didn't mention it again until after lunch, when their father adjourned to his study with the excuse of a heavy work load. They both knew he was going to doze peacefully in front of the fire, but even Claudia knew better than to suggest as much.

  'Claudia, have you had many parts suddenly disappear under your fingers just lately?' she asked. 'Anything else, I mean.'

  She shrugged. 'Well, I thought I was going to get a part in a political drama, but it went to Marty.' She pulled a face and grinned. The two of them were always in competition for the same parts so that wasn't unusual. 'And there was an audition for a revival of Private Lives that fell apart for lack of backing at the last minute. One minute I didn't know how I was going to fit it all in, now all of a sudden work is decidedly thin on the ground. But it happens. You know that as well as I do. Why?'

  Fizz shook her head. 'I don't know. We've had problems with sponsorship, you know, because of the Harries takeover.'

  'Have you? Dad's worried about money, too. Did you know that?'

  'He's looked tired recently, I thought, but I've been so caught up with my own problems. Is it serious?'

  'He had promises of finance for this television thing he's involved in. I mean cast iron promises. Now a couple of his backers have dropped out when he's already committed to production. He's going to have to put in a lot more of his own money than he thought. And it's not a good time to be liquidising assets.'

  'I hadn't realised.' A three-fold lightning strike? Coincidence or design? Surely not. The fact that Luke had known what her sister was doing could be put down to the newspaper coverage of the campaign. But he had told her not to worry about Claudia's availability. And the letter she had picked up in his office had carried The Chocolate Company logo.