Outrageous Fortune

by Lulu Taylor

  ‘Another lawyer’s letter by any chance? Will said he was sending one.’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’ Margaret stopped in front of the study door. ‘He continues to make unreasonable demands. It was accompanied by a poisonous personal note from Will to his father, accusing him of many awful things. Quite appalling.’ She knocked and pushed the door open. ‘Sir – Coco is back.’

  The old man was sitting in a large green leather button-back armchair, and Coco suspected he might have been asleep. He jumped slightly as they entered, then hauled himself to his feet, smiling expansively. ‘Coco, Coco, how charming!’

  She smiled. ‘Hello, Mr Dangerfield.’

  ‘Come here, come here,’ he said, beckoning her over. As she reached him, he leaned out and pulled her into his arms, the scratchy tweed of his jacket rough on her skin, as he kissed her cheek. ‘It’s lovely to see you again. How are you?’

  She pulled away from him, startled by the bear hug and kiss. ‘I’m fine, thank you, sir.’

  ‘Coco’s brought back an excellent report,’ Margaret said. ‘We shall be able to learn a great deal from her.’

  ‘Good, good. You got under the skin of that son of mine, did you?’ Daddy looked suddenly sad. ‘A writ today. There’s no end to this awful nonsense. But if he wants a fight, I shall certainly give him one, and with your help, my dear, we shall win.’ Then he smiled broadly. ‘This calls for a celebration!’ he announced. ‘Margaret, what do you say to Le Caprice this evening? I think Coco deserves a treat for being such a very good girl.’

  There was a pause, then Margaret said, ‘A wonderful idea, sir. I shall see about booking the table at once.’

  It felt odd to be back in the South Kensington flat. It was as though she’d never been away, but the Coco who had returned was very different from the one who had left. She’d been through an emotional upheaval. Was it really possible that in such a short time she’d found something she’d been looking for all her life, and then lost it?

  She walked to the windows of her flat, pulling the heavy linen curtains to shut out the night outside. She began to unzip her dark green Marchesa cocktail dress, thinking how strange the evening had been. Mr Dangerfield had seemed in very high spirits to see her, and was extremely affectionate throughout the meal, as if she were an old friend he had missed terribly. He was always leaning over to pat her hand or smile broadly. When he’d asked her about Will, she had spoken freely and frankly – except that she hadn’t mentioned a thing about what had happened between them. She was sure that Will would not be swayed from his course whether or not his father knew anything about it.

  At the end of the meal at Le Caprice, as the women sipped espresso and the old man drank a glass of port, Dangerfield had leaned over, taken Coco’s hand and asked her fondly to call him Daddy. Coco had a feeling that no matter what Margaret’s feelings on the subject were, she was about to become a fixture on the Dangerfield scene.

  For some reason, he’s taken a real shine to me. Even more than before.

  As Coco pulled off her Kenneth Jay Lane chandelier earrings, she heard her phone go. She took it from her handbag and saw Xander’s number flashing up on the screen. Her stomach flipped over. What could he want to say? She ought to ignore it and let him leave a message if he wanted, but she couldn’t fight the desire to find out.

  ‘Yes?’ Her voice was cold and curt and she didn’t care.

  ‘Coco …’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch before now.’

  ‘I’m not surprised, you fucking yellow-belly, traitorous, betraying shithead!’ She got pleasure from saying the words. She’d been wanting to for ages. ‘How could you do that, Xander? How could you try to destroy me like that? I thought we were friends.’

  ‘Coco, I’m so sorry.’ Xander’s voice was deep with misery.

  ‘I don’t know if sorry is going to cut it, you bastard,’ she said, her voice dripping vitriol.

  ‘I didn’t know what I was doing … I was drunk, stoned …’

  ‘You humiliated me,’ she said in a low voice.

  ‘What can I do to make it up to you?’ he said plaintively.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Did he throw you out?’ Xander asked.

  Coco said nothing. She didn’t know how to tell Xander the truth of what had happened. She couldn’t bear to talk about it. ‘It’s over,’ she said shortly.

  ‘Coco, you’ve got to believe me, it was a mistake. And you’re not what I said – you’re a brilliant girl. I’m so sorry.’ Xander sounded wretched.

  She padded back and forth along the rug. ‘You need help, Xander. Seriously. You’re out of control.’

  ‘I’m calming down, I promise. I’m going up to Scotland to see my family for a bit. I guess I won’t be seeing Will again after what I did.’

  ‘Well – good job, Xander. You really fucked us both over. Congratulations.’ Full of fury and despair, Coco clicked off her mobile and stood frozen at the window, trying to tame the torrent of emotions inside her.

  69

  AS DAISY REALISED that she was actually staring into Christophe’s face, she found that astonishment seemed to have stolen her voice from her and glued her legs to the ground. She could only gape at him, wondering if he was something she’d conjured up out of her own mind. Was she ill? Perhaps she had pneumonia and was delirious, perhaps she’d dreamed everything that had happened for the last few days … But, oh, God, what a wonderful twist her delirium had just taken.

  She felt winded, but managed to gather enough breath to speak. ‘Christophe … is it really you?’

  ‘Daphne.’ One word spoken in that familiar voice rolled over and round her, and seemed to engulf her in warmth.

  They stood and stared at each other, the rest of the world around them disappearing in a haze. She could see only his dark velvety eyes, and the sweet familiarity of his face.

  A rough voice cut into her daze. It was Sergei. ‘I’m going to leave you here,’ he said. ‘I’ve got business to see to, and no doubt you have things to discuss. I’ll come back in the morning to take you to Komsomolsk.’ The next moment, the door of the hut was closing and she was alone with Christophe.

  ‘Am I dreaming?’ Daisy said wonderingly.

  He smiled tenderly and shook his head. ‘It’s really me.’

  ‘Oh!’ Overcome, she stumbled towards him and threw herself into his arms. An instant later, he was hugging her close, enveloping her in his strong embrace.

  ‘You’re OK now,’ he murmured, mouth pressed against her hair. ‘You’re fine, don’t worry.’

  She wanted to cry and sob out all the tension and fear of the last few days, but she was also so suffused with happiness that she wanted to laugh and jump at the same time. She pulled back, gazing at him with shining eyes. ‘But what on earth are you doing here?’

  ‘I came to find you,’ he replied simply. His large hands grasped hers. ‘You were in trouble and you needed me.’

  ‘But I don’t understand!’ She shook her head, bewildered. ‘How …?’

  ‘I know. It’s strange. But let’s get your coat off and make you something hot to drink, and I’ll explain everything.’

  From lonely darkness to golden comforting light; the contrast was startling but Daisy accepted it more quickly than she would have thought possible. Soon it seemed to her like the most natural thing in the world to be sitting on a sofa in a hunting lodge in Siberia, with Christophe opposite her, as they both sipped hot black tea from the samovar.

  ‘How did you find me?’ she asked.

  ‘I came looking for you,’ was the simple answer. ‘You needed me, I was sure of it.’

  ‘But why?’

  Christophe said nothing for a moment, then he reached into his pocket and pulled something out. When he opened his palm, she didn’t recognise what he was holding for a second, then she realised that the object glittering in his hand was the Van Cleef & Arpels brooch she had been given by her father s
o many years before.

  ‘My brooch!’

  He nodded. ‘You left it at Nant-y-Pren. You must have dropped it when you were packing and it rolled under the chest of drawers. It was only when I moved it that I found the brooch again.’

  ‘I hadn’t realised I’d lost it. I thought it was in my jewellery box.’ Daisy stared at it as the light bounced off the diamonds, flashing and glinting. ‘And how did this lead you to … to me?’

  ‘I put it to one side to return it to you, but it seemed too precious to put in the post. I meant to contact you and arrange a way to drop it off, but it was hard. I still felt bitter about our breakup.’ His eyes darkened for a moment. ‘Then I read in the paper about Daisy Dangerfield’s death and there was a picture of her, from years back. She was wearing your brooch. I recognised it instantly. And once I’d seen that – well, I realised that she was you. Or you were her. I found a few more pictures online, and knew you were the same person.’ His mouth looked grim. ‘It was a huge shock … awful. I thought for a little while you were dead.’

  ‘But … my disguise …’ she faltered.

  He smiled. ‘A very good disguise, but when you’ve known someone the way we knew each other … Did you think I wouldn’t recognise the shape of your face, your eyes – no matter what colour they are – your nose and mouth? Your new hair style distracts attention from your face, it’s true. That blunt cut you used to have was almost like a helmet, and the glasses were a nice touch. And …’ he looked at her more closely ‘… didn’t you used to have brown eyes?’

  ‘Lenses,’ she whispered. ‘I’m not wearing them.’

  ‘I like your real colour,’ he said softly. ‘That grey-blue suits you better.’

  ‘Oh, Christophe,’ she cried. ‘I couldn’t tell you! I couldn’t … I wanted to, but …’

  ‘Don’t worry about that now,’ he said, his voice gentle. His face softened. ‘I nearly went mad when I thought you were dead. But I knew that you were calling yourself Daphne Fraser, and still working at Craven. I calmed down and called John, and he told me about your impressive promotion. It was obvious he thought you were perfectly fine. I called the Dangerfield Group and pretended I was still a Craven executive so that I could get your new BlackBerry number. They told me you were out of the country. I called you several times but you didn’t answer, and in the end I left a message. I said I knew you were Daisy Dangerfield.’ He looked shamefaced. ‘I regretted it as soon as I’d said it but it was too late. Sure enough, I got a call back from someone who definitely wasn’t you. It was that great hulk of a Russian.’

  ‘Sergei,’ Daisy supplied.

  ‘Right. Well, he told me you were busy, but I said he’d better put you on or I’d call the police, Interpol, whoever. I’d kick up one almighty storm. That’s when he told me that you were in the hands of a rival business associate who was making demands in return for your safety.’ Christophe frowned, eyes glittering at the memory. ‘He seemed to think it was no big deal, that you’d just be away for a few days until he managed to make his rival see sense. I explained that it was a bigger situation than that, and said I was coming straight out to get you myself.’

  ‘Oh.’ Daisy clasped his hand and squeezed it. ‘The whole time I was locked up, all I could think of was that no one knew where I was. No one cared. And all the time …’

  Christophe smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘I couldn’t leave you in that situation, at the mercy of some guy who seemed to think that you could hang on and wait to be rescued until he was good and ready. Besides, once he knew who you were, I was afraid that he might decide to use it to his advantage.’

  ‘You didn’t call the police?’ breathed Daisy, looking up at him.

  Christophe stared earnestly at her. ‘I was prepared to, at any moment. But I was very frightened for you. The rule of law is a secondary consideration around here. I wanted to be where I could help. So I chartered a plane and flew to Komsomolsk. Thank God when I got here, Sergei had already discovered your whereabouts and arranged your release.’

  ‘You flew?’ Daisy’s eyes filled with tears and she felt choked. That must have cost him a great deal, in more ways than one. She knew how Christophe felt about flying. ‘For me?’

  He grasped her hand and held it. ‘It was hairy,’ he said with a smile. ‘The weather conditions were atrocious. It was reckless and foolhardy. But I did it because I had no other choice.’

  ‘You did have a choice,’ whispered Daisy, her heart swelling. ‘You could have left me. I left you, after all. I let us be separated.’

  ‘Sometimes things happen that make past quarrels seem unimportant.’ He put his arms around her and pulled her close so that she was gazing up at him. She marvelled at his beautiful face and those soft brown eyes, and wondered how she could have gone so long without him. What had she been thinking of, walking out of his life the way she had? Being with him felt so intensely, incredibly right that every minute she’d spent away from him now seemed a terrible waste.

  ‘Daphne …’

  ‘You can call me Daisy.’ She smiled up at him. ‘That’s really my name.’

  ‘Daisy. Yes. That suits you better too.’

  She felt suddenly desperate. ‘I wish you’d hurry up and kiss me,’ she said, ‘if you’re going to?’

  ‘Of course I am, if you want me to?’

  ‘God, shut up!’ She couldn’t wait any longer and pulled his mouth to hers, losing herself at once in the bliss of Christophe’s taste and touch.

  Much later, as the stove was burning low and they were lying in each other’s arms on the sofa, neither of them willing to move and disturb the tranquil pleasure of being so close, she said, ‘I suppose you’ve got lots to ask me.’

  ‘You mean, about why you’re officially dead? And why Daisy Dangerfield is the girl I fell in love with?’ Christophe rubbed his cheek against hers, pulling her a little tighter against his chest. ‘Yes, I suppose I do have a couple of questions.’

  ‘I promise I’ll tell you everything,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I couldn’t before, please believe me.’

  ‘I can guess that everything is a great deal more complicated than I could ever have imagined. But you don’t have to tell me the whole thing right now. Maybe we should get some sleep first.’

  She frowned, shaking off some of the drowsy enjoyment she felt to be in proximity to him again. ‘Yes – where are we?’

  ‘It’s a hunting lodge of Sergei’s. He thought it would be safer for us to keep off the beaten track until he’s quietened everything down and sorted out the situation. We’ll see him in the morning probably.’ Christophe smiled down at her. ‘So – shall we go to bed?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Daisy, so fervently that she made him laugh. ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘I’m glad you want that as much as I do,’ he said gently. ‘I missed you so much. I tried to shut you out of my life, but I couldn’t forget you. When I thought you were dead, the pain was unbearable. I’m so glad we’ve got another chance.’

  He got off the sofa, separating her from the warmth of his body, but only for a moment. The next minute he was swinging her up into his arms and carrying her across the small sitting room, kicking open the door to the bedroom and hurrying inside to the inviting bed and the enveloping darkness beyond.

  70

  THE SOUTH KENSINGTON flat remained Coco’s refuge for the time being. Here, she could shut herself away from the world and be alone to think about everything that had happened. Here, she smoked cigarettes and paced the sitting room until the early hours, replaying events in her mind, having long imaginary conversations with Will that would turn into ridiculous, one-sided arguments in which she’d yell, cry, explain, berate and ask forgiveness. The only thing missing from the whole crazy scenario was Will himself.

  When she wasn’t at the flat, she was at the Dangerfield mansion in Belgravia with Daddy, who couldn’t seem to get enough of her company. Coco was happy to provide it. After all, staying close to the Da
ngerfields was part of her plan.

  She sensed the loneliness in the old man. She’d seen it before in the men who had paid for private dances in the club, and then were more interested in talking to her then goggling at her tits. Whatever Daddy Dangerfield was – and she suspected he was the nasty, selfish egotist that Will had portrayed him as – he was missing human companionship.

  He can’t get much from Margaret. She’s more like an android helper than a human being. No wonder he was warming to Coco so quickly: she was young and vital, and when she flattered him – well, he lapped it up. When she told him how wonderful he was, he would light up like an electric bulb and grow visibly more expansive, and those dark brown eyes of his would fill with animation. It didn’t take much encouragement for him to start regaling her with endless stories of his past life and business achievements.

  She could tell he was growing more dependent on her. If she didn’t appear at the Belgravia house even for a day, her mobile would ring and there would be a querulous voice on the other end: ‘Coco, where have you vanished to? When are you coming round to see me?’ Or it would be Margaret, in that level, emotionless voice of hers, saying the boss wanted to see Coco, and could she please come as soon as possible, or meet them at Langan’s or Rules or some other restaurant.

  The presents began to arrive: a silk scarf, followed by a luxurious pearl grey cashmere shawl. A Chanel handbag. Pairs of expensive shoes. A dress. Daddy liked to wander around with her after a rich lunch, take her into boutiques and let her see the way the staff instantly recognised him as a man with money and jumped to serve him. He liked to watch her try things on, fall in love with them, and then keep her hanging on until he’d declare she could have them. Then she’d laugh, hug him and thank him for being so amazing to her.

  The South Kensington flat filled up with clothes, shoes and jewellery. Coco became accustomed to sending the bills for her living expenses, and the beauty treatments she now couldn’t live without, to Margaret’s office to be settled.