Outrageous Fortune

by Lulu Taylor

  ‘Why’d you have to spoil my fun? I might not see those girls again. My one was really nice.’

  ‘Come on, Xander,’ Will said, ‘they’re just club girls. Dancers. They make their living jiggling their breasts in front of guys like you. You don’t need them.’

  Xander stared at him, his eyes glittering dangerously. Then he muttered something under his breath that Will couldn’t hear.

  ‘See you tomorrow, mate, I’m off to bed.’ Will loped up the stairs, leaving his friend staring after him, his blue eyes glazed and discontented.

  63

  THE NEXT DAY Darley did not appear at breakfast. Too hung-over, Daisy suspected. Sergei served her hot coffee, rolls and salami. She’d have preferred some muesli but it would have been ungracious to mention it.

  ‘I don’t think you’re going home today,’ he announced without any preamble.

  ‘What?’ She was startled. ‘Why not?’

  ‘The weather is turning against us. You won’t be able to take a helicopter ride to Komsomolsk.’ He shook his head. ‘No way. And even if you get there, probably the plane won’t leave.’ Sergei appeared quite unconcerned. ‘You’ll have to go tomorrow.’

  ‘But … but … I must go home!’ she insisted, pushing her half-eaten breakfast away from her.

  ‘Here, there is no must,’ he said with a smile. ‘The weather speaks and we obey. If we don’t, we die. It’s not like your soft weather in England. It has a spirit, a character, and a desire to kill you if it can.’

  Daisy’s spirits swooped downwards as she stared at him. Even if she insisted, how on earth could she make him do anything? She and Darley were completely in his power, she could see that. But why would he lie to me? If he says the weather is bad, then it’s bad. I’ll have to accept it. ‘OK,’ she said, trying to sound as calm as possible, despite the ripples of panic she was feeling. ‘Let me go and tell Darley he can sleep in if he wants.’

  Darley did not answer her knock. She went in to find him groaning in his bed.

  ‘Too much vodka?’ she said with a smile as she ventured closer. It was a little strange seeing him in bed in his pyjamas. ‘I thought you might regret it.’

  ‘No, no,’ rasped Darley, looking up at her wild-eyed. ‘I’m sick … I’m sick!’

  She looked more closely. He did look terrible: his skin was white and clammy and sweat stood out all over his brow and upper lip. His hands were shaking. ‘Darley, you’re right. You look awful.’

  ‘I feel terrible … I’m hot, but I’m shivering.’ His jaw started to chatter, his teeth knocking together with a horrible clicking sound.

  Daisy called Sergei in. He examined Darley and then fetched a thermometer and stuck it under the sick man’s tongue. When it beeped, he removed it, read it and frowned.

  ‘He has a very high fever,’ he said tersely.

  ‘Can we fetch the doctor?’ Daisy said anxiously. It looked as if Darley had been hit by a severe case of ’flu.

  ‘Doctor – yes. But here is what the doctor will say: give him fluids, keep him warm or cool, give him medicine to fight the fever. We can do all that without the doctor.’

  ‘I think we should see one,’ cried Daisy. All this hardy self-sufficiency could be taken too far.

  Sergei shook his head. ‘The doctor will say what I’ve said. We will get him tomorrow, if Darley feels no better. But if he’s worse, then I say we take him to the hospital at Komsomolsk. If we can get there, of course.’

  ‘I insist you get the doctor!’ cried Daisy, drawing herself up to her full height. ‘If he might need to get to hospital, we must know now!’

  Sergei stared at her as if wondering whether to allow his anger to flare into life at being ordered around by this girl. Then he sighed. ‘The doctor is an hour’s drive away. If I go now, I can be back for lunchtime, I guess.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ she said, relieved. ‘Go now, definitely. Please. I’ll look after him until you get back.’

  Ten minutes later, Sergei was pulling away in the Land Rover and heading off to get the doctor.

  Daisy took Darley cold water to drink and painkillers to help reduce the fever. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, as he swallowed the pills. ‘The doctor will be here soon.’

  ‘Can I get home?’ he said in the same rasping voice, his eyes glittering and cheeks hectic.

  ‘Not today,’ she said gently. ‘Maybe tomorrow, if you’re feeling better. But just relax. Everything’s under control.’

  Two hours later, Daisy was pacing the sitting room, staring out of the window every few minutes, but she could see nothing. Sergei was still not back and the weather, as he had predicted, was closing in. The sky, a heavy palette of white, grey and violet, had sunk down on to the village and she could see no further than a few feet from the front door. The air seemed thick with unshed snow and she could tell that a bitter wind was whirling around outside.

  ‘Come on, come on,’ she muttered, glancing again at her watch. Time was moving with terrible slowness. She picked up a large fur throw from the sofa and wrapped it around herself, not from cold but because she needed comfort.

  Darley was sleeping. Daisy had taken him hot soup to drink but he had not been hungry and had soon sunk into a heavy slumber. It was his breathing that worried her. It hummed and rattled in his chest, emerging from his open mouth with an unhealthy whistle. Was it ’flu? Or something more serious?

  ‘Oh, where is the doctor?’ she said helplessly. She looked over at Sergei’s computer, blank-screened in the corner, and wondered if she dared switch it on. She wanted to Google Darley’s symptoms.

  Just then, she heard the muffled roar of an engine.

  ‘Thank God!’ She rushed to the window and saw the dark shape of the jeep pulling up by the house. She ran through to Darley to tell him the good news, but he was still sleeping. She decided not to wake him.

  She returned to the sitting room in time to see the door swing open and a big burly figure come inside, followed by another well wrapped in protective clothing.

  ‘Sergei, thank goodness you’re back,’ she said. ‘Is that the doctor?’

  The first man threw back his fur-edged hood, revealing a face as craggy as Sergei’s and similar blue eyes, but it was not him. The other had Chinese features beneath a thick wool hat.

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ said the first man in a thick Russian accent. He grinned at her and his eyes glittered hungrily. ‘Sergei has unfortunately been delayed. But don’t worry. We’ve come to take you somewhere safe. Please put on your coat.’

  64

  WILL HAD WORKED mostly from home lately but at last he had to go to his office, so Coco decided to go shopping and buy something to wear for the party. There was no sign of Xander, and the door to his cottage was firmly shut. Will drove Coco downtown, taking her past his offices which were in a stunning black-glass skyscraper, and dropping her on Melrose Avenue. She had spent some of her days in LA seeing the famous sights – Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, the Hollywood sign, and the studios – and trying out the huge number of restaurants and novelty joints like frozen custard bars. Now she was ready to shop, and while Will went back to the office, she spent a happy couple of hours browsing, buying a sexy Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress for the evening. Like most of the LA roads, Melrose seemed to go on forever. After trying to walk it for a while, she eventually hailed a taxi to take her up and down the street and wait outside when she saw a shop she wanted to browse through.

  When she got back, exhausted and carrying several bags, Xander was up but monosyllabic. He kept his shades firmly on, retreating behind a newspaper whenever she came near. Coco wasn’t offended. She knew that he went through phases when he felt the after-effects of his punishing party lifestyle. He always bounced back, the charming, smiling Xander reappearing with his ready jokes and eagerness to amuse.

  That evening she took care over her appearance. She always wanted to look her best for Will and put on her make-up as she’d recently been taught, fading subtle colour over he
r eyelids and darkening the sockets, highlighting her cheekbones and brows with the lightest shimmer. She stared back at her reflection, satisfied that she looked good: polished and healthy with bright eyes and softly shining lips. Her new dress brought out the greeny-blue of her eyes.

  Then she went downstairs, ready to start welcoming the guests.

  Night had fallen in that soft LA way, floating down over them all like a piece of navy gauze. The party had been going for a while now.

  Xander, she could see, was hitting it hard for some reason. He was very drunk after only an hour and Coco guessed he was alternating his beers with whisky. His constitution must be like iron. It was Friday night, and the partygoers seemed keener than ever to let their hair down, jumping into the pool and turning the music up loud so that they could dance on the terrace. The fragrant odour in the air meant that a joint was being passed around somewhere. No doubt pills and coke were being taken as well.

  Coco began to feel anxious about Will. He was still shut in his office. Was there some kind of work crisis? She decided she would disturb him, although she rarely went into his office. At the door, she stopped and listened. There was no sound from within. She knocked and pushed the door open. ‘Will? Are you all right?’

  She looked inside. He was sitting with his back to her, his feet resting on the table, watching something on his computer screen. He turned around at the sound of her voice. ‘Huh?’

  ‘Everyone’s here. I was wondering when you’re coming out.’ She smiled at him. ‘Tough day?’

  ‘Oh. Yeah.’ He clicked his mouse so that his screen went blank. ‘I’m coming now.’

  As he came close to her at the door, she reached up and kissed him. He kissed her back but she sensed the tension in his shoulders. ‘You need to relax,’ she whispered, taking his hand. ‘Come on.’

  As soon as they were outside, people came up to Will to say hello and chat about work issues. Coco didn’t mind; this was what he needed, to join in the party and forget whatever was troubling him. She sat beside him, sipping her caipirinha cocktail and watching as he chatted to his guests. Some girls were dancing to the music floating out over the terrace from the hidden speakers: there was a bare patch near the pool that made the best dance floor. They were moving their hips and writhing their arms in time to the beat, some of them singing along.

  Suddenly Xander turned to her and said, ‘Hey, Coco, why don’t you dance?’

  She smiled at him. ‘Yeah, let’s dance, hon.’ She put her glass down.

  ‘Nah, not me. You dance. Show Will how good you are.’

  Will grinned. He seemed less tense now. ‘I know how good she is.’

  ‘No, you don’t, not really. She’s brilliant, aren’t you, Coco? Go on, dance for Will.’

  She looked over at Xander, a little suspicious. He’d put on his sunglasses despite the darkness and she couldn’t see his eyes. ‘Well …’

  Will said, ‘Sounds like it’s unmissable. Go on, babe.’

  She stared at him. He’d never asked such a thing before but it seemed harmless enough. She got up and walked over to the dance floor. Feeling selfconscious, she started to move to the music, swaying her shoulders and swinging her hips.

  ‘Very nice!’ Xander called over. ‘Keep going.’

  She began to find her rhythm now. God, she loved to dance. She remembered the studio in London where she’d learned to dance properly, the steps Roberto had taught her, the way the other girls had impressed her with their dedication. She felt alive when she danced: the music seemed to come from inside her and she was at one with it. She was oblivious to the other dancers and they kept away from her, as if slightly in awe of the way she moved, so effortlessly and fluidly.

  Others were watching her now, the ones sitting round the pool and terrace, with their drinks, cigarettes and bottles of beer.

  ‘She looks sexy, doesn’t she, Will?’ called Xander. ‘Keep going, sweetheart!’ He gestured to someone to turn the music up, and the soulful voice of the singer burst over them.

  Coco carried on dancing. If Will liked it, she would do it, though she was a little uncomfortable that everyone else was watching too. Wasn’t this something that should be private, for just the two of them?

  Then Xander said loudly, ‘Hey, Coco. Take your dress off.’

  She stopped. ‘What?’

  ‘Take your dress off. You’ve got your bikini on underneath, haven’t you? What’s the problem? Come on, you’ve got a great body. We want to see you dancing properly.’

  She stared over at him, uncertain if he was joking. She gave a half laugh just in case he was.

  ‘Take your dress off,’ he insisted. His eyes were still inscrutable behind the shades, but he was smiling. ‘It’s just your swimming stuff underneath. What are you worried about?’

  ‘Xander, if she doesn’t want to, then leave her alone,’ Will said. He looked puzzled.

  ‘What’s wrong, Coco, too good for us, are you?’ Xander called. His voiced slurred ever so slightly. ‘It’s just a bit of fun.’

  ‘It’s OK, Will,’ she said. ‘I don’t mind.’ Perhaps Xander was right. Lots of the other girls were dancing in bikinis. She put her hand to the tie at the side of her dress and slowly pulled it. The wrap dress fell open to show her red bikini underneath. She let the dress slide off her shoulders, deftly caught it and tossed it to the side of the terrace.

  ‘Dance, baby!’ shouted Xander, so she started moving again, aware that everyone could now see her body: her long legs, the flat stomach, the full breasts with small red cotton triangles over each nipple. ‘Yeah, that’s good.’

  It’s just a swimming costume, she told herself. I’m just dancing at a party. But there was a sick feeling in her stomach. She knew what this reminded her of. The other girls had stopped dancing now. She was alone on the terrace, swaying and moving to the beat in full view of everyone while Xander whistled loudly from the side. What’s he doing? She felt frightened and confused but also had a terrible sense that she had to play along with whatever he wanted. He’s drunk. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.

  ‘Now,’ shouted Xander, ‘Coco, take your top off for us! Come on, show us those gorgeous tits!’

  ‘Xander!’ Will leaped to his feet, his eyes flashing. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  Coco stopped dancing. She stared over at the men, a nasty churning feeling in her belly.

  ‘You heard me,’ Xander said loudly. Everyone around had stopped what they were doing and were focusing on the situation. ‘Take your top off.’ He pulled out his wallet, removed a $50 bill and held it up. ‘Here, hon – will this help?’ Then he tossed it towards her. It floated to the ground near Coco’s feet. She stared down at it, horrified. The music was switched off. Silence covered the terrace; everyone was still.

  ‘Come on,’ Xander said, in a voice she’d never heard him use before: hard and hateful. ‘Doesn’t that buy a peek at those tits of yours? It can’t be more than that, surely?’

  Rage and humiliation rushed through her.

  ‘Xander, shut the fuck up! What the hell are you doing?’ cried Will, appalled. ‘Coco, don’t listen to him, he’s drunk … he’s off his face.’

  Xander stood up, pulled another fifty out of his wallet and drawled, ‘How much for the panties? What’s the exchange rate? I guess you’re used to pounds, aren’t you … How much was it, Coco? Twenty? Thirty? What did guys usually pay you to have a look and a feel?’

  ‘Fuck you!’ she shouted. ‘Fuck you, you bastard!’

  She saw Will raise his fist to his friend, ready to punch him, and rushed forward to grab his arm. ‘No, Will, no … don’t.’

  ‘You shithead, how the fuck dare you?’ Will hissed, staring at Xander.

  He swayed and grinned. ‘Come on, mate, can’t you see it? She’s a fucking pole dancer. An East End tart! Common as muck, all done up to make you think she’s a lady. She’s nothing!’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Will demanded, confused. He looked over at
Coco, who stared back, her face stricken.

  ‘You heard me. She’s not what you think. She’s just like those girls last night. She’ll probably give me a blow job if I pay her enough.’

  Coco’s heart filled with ice. She turned and walked away, scooping up her dress as she went and covering her chest with it. She strode past Will, not looking at him, back into the house and up to their room, where she stood trembling with shock and too stunned to cry.

  What the hell had Xander just done?

  65

  DAISY HAD WORKED out that if she balanced the rickety chair on the tea chest, being careful to keep at least three of the legs on the edge so that the chair didn’t crash through the lid, she could stand on it, hold on to the high windowsill and then, on precarious tiptoe, look out.

  For all the good it did her. There was nothing to see beyond the window but more whiteness. But it kept her occupied. Worse than anything so far was the terrible boredom of having nothing to do but dwell on her situation. Questions swirled round her mind in an eternal carousel, each one coming back as regularly as a favourite pony on the fairground ride. What was happening to Darley? Was he still ill? Had he been taken to hospital? And what about Sergei? Had he even returned? Had he guessed what was happening? Was he looking for her?

  Sometimes she had the nightmarish vision of Sergei never coming back, Darley dying in bed with nobody to bring him water or painkillers, and herself vanishing into utter oblivion with no one any the wiser.

  When would they start wondering where Darley and Daisy were? They were officially on a fact-finding mission, booked away from the office for a week. They’d been gone five days. It would be two more before anyone began wondering where they were, and goodness knew how long after that before anyone would do something.

  What about Darley’s family? Wouldn’t they raise the alarm when he didn’t come home?

  There’s no one at all to care for me, she thought wretchedly. No one to wonder where I am when I don’t come home.

  This, she saw now, was the terrible truth of the situation she had made for herself. The day she’d become Daphne Fraser and decided to pursue her dream of revenge upon her father, she’d cut off all other human ties and devoted herself to her mission. Even Christophe, who’d loved her … she’d chosen her goal over him. And this was where it had led her: to a cold, empty shed in Siberia where anything might happen to her. She could die and no one would know. Oh, God, where was Darley? Was he still ill?