Outrageous Fortune

by Lulu Taylor

  And as for the money … well, it wasn’t hers and it wasn’t even Daddy’s. What she had learned about the goings on recently had made her sure that Will was right in his suspicions that his father had been misappropriating the family trusts. Margaret and Daddy still kept much of their business dealings secret from her, despite Daddy’s telling her she was now in the circle of trust. Nevertheless, they sometimes let their guard down and Coco had gleaned that this painting, the Gainsborough, was a source of great anxiety to them. She’d heard them discussing at length how they were going to deal with the matter of the date of the sale.

  ‘Without that,’ Daddy had said, ‘they can’t prove anything!’

  Coco had buried her nose even deeper in Vogue and pretended not to be listening just as hard as she could. Then there was the Foundation. She’d heard Margaret badgering Daddy for more funds to be sent to it, and it seemed obvious that the woman was involved in promoting its cause to her employer. Coco often found Margaret’s cold eyes fixed on her, hard with suspicion. The fact that she was wearing Daddy’s ring on her finger had clearly horrified Margaret, and Coco had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before the other woman became her enemy.

  She hasn’t had to share Daddy’s attention – or money – with anyone for a very long time. No wonder she doesn’t like me on her territory, especially if it looks like I’m a permanent addition.

  All of which had sent her on this strange night-time mission down the winding stairs to Margaret’s office.

  It was locked, of course. How could she expect anything different? But that was precisely why she’d made it her business to locate the set of security keys that could open any door in the house. A bit of flirting and chatting with the security guard and she’d managed to persuade the poor lump to hand over the secondary key to Margaret’s office. The benefits of working on the inside, she thought wryly. The circle of trust. Hah!

  She slid the key into the lock and turned the handle. It opened smoothly and a moment later she was inside the office. Switching on the lights, Coco took in the extraordinary neatness of the minimalist surroundings. She took out her phone and quickly began to photograph the desk and the shelves so that she had a record of exactly how everything had been when she’d found it. She was sure that Margaret would be very sensitive to the position of things in her own office. Then she sat down and turned on the computer. The password box flashed up. Coco looked at the screen on her phone and replayed a piece of film she had made the last time she’d been in here: it was a shot of Margaret typing in her password. Coco played it over and over, following each tap of the keys and writing down each letter and number as they were hit: Ru5tyN4iL. So that was it.

  Sure enough, once she’d entered the password, the screen cleared to show her Margaret’s desktop. Someone as organised as that was bound to have a clearly labelled and wonderfully logical filing system, Coco thought. She was going to have a quick look around and see what she could find …

  Coco sat in Margaret’s office for three hours, though it seemed barely half an hour. It was fascinating, scrolling through the engine that kept the Dangerfield machine rolling along so effortlessly. And in the folder named ‘Foundation’ she found absorbing and revealing information that occasionally made her gasp aloud, and shake her head. Once she even laughed at the sheer audacity of it. In the printer tray lay several documents that she had sent to print: each one had sent shivers of pleasure along Coco’s spine as she’d stumbled across it. These would prove very useful indeed, she was sure of it.

  But as she was about to exit the system, she noticed another file entitled ‘Renegade’. She opened it and there saw another folder called ‘DaisyD’. Daisy … the other daughter. The half-sister of Will and Sarah who’d died in that accident in Thailand. Why was all that information filed away under ‘Renegade’? Coco was curious. She clicked on the Daisy file and saw all manner of interestingly titled documents.

  Will had told her that Daddy’s second wife Julia had died of alcoholism, leaving the youngest daughter to be brought up by her father alone. According to Will, Daisy had been pampered and spoiled, whisked around the world as her father’s companion, treated like a grown woman when she was still in her teens. Renegade? Hardly.

  Then the true story began to emerge in bits and pieces. Coco found documents at random, each one more intriguing and bizarre than the last: a letter to a DNA-testing clinic making enquiries about their services; the cancellation of a place at Brown University; an instruction to a bank to make a payment of one hundred thousand pounds into a new account. And then she found it: a document marked ‘Contract’. She clicked it open and began to read, her mouth falling open in astonishment as she realised exactly what the contents meant.

  Holy shit, she thought. Were they really capable of this?

  But as she kept looking and the pieces of the jigsaw all fell into place, it seemed clear to her that they were …

  81

  IN THE AFTERMATH of her triumph, saving the day for the Dangerfield Group, Daisy felt a little deflated and unsure of what she should do next. She was anxious about Christophe, sure that he wouldn’t want to continue living in London without a purpose of his own for much longer. He was willing to help her, she knew that, but even she didn’t know exactly what she wanted to achieve any more.

  They lay together in bed in the Shoreditch flat in the moonlight that shone through a gap in the curtains, their warm skin pressed together as they quietly discussed the future.

  ‘I don’t think we should work together again,’ Christophe said gently. ‘We seemed to find each other a little distracting. Besides, it’s never a good thing for one of us to be in a position to boss the other around.’

  ‘So what will you do?’ Daisy asked anxiously.

  ‘I’m not sure. I know I want to stay with you, if you want me to,’ he said, and kissed her shoulder. ‘But, I must say, London’s not for me. At least, not permanently. But if this is where you need to be, then this is where we’ll stay for now. As long as I can escape to Wales fairly often.’

  ‘Thank you, darling. I know what that means for you.’ Daisy hugged him tightly. ‘But I’ve been thinking,’ she said, eventually. ‘I’m not sure that I want to stay here any longer myself. I’ve done what I could for the Dangerfield Group. I’ve heard the words from Daddy that I wanted to hear so much – that I’m worth something. And do you know what? The minute he said them, I didn’t care any more. I realised that he’s just a lonely old man who’s destroyed everything he loved and rejected everyone who ever loved him. I always thought I wanted to do the big reveal, shock him, show him what I’d done – but now I’m not so sure. Who cares what he thinks? My real revenge is to be happy and get on with my life.’ She smiled at Christophe. ‘I could stay here under my assumed identity, trying to climb up the ladder even further – or I could chuck it all in.’

  She suddenly felt full of enthusiasm, as though a door she’d thought closed had just swung open, showing her a new and exciting path ahead. She sat up with the excitement of it. ‘I’m sick of all this pretence. I want to be Daisy again. I’m going to leave Dangerfield and we’ll go back to Wales together and do something else. I used to design shoes – maybe I’ll start that again. Or I’ll find some little hotel to run. Or … or … I don’t know. All I know is, there’s life outside this bloody company.’

  ‘If you don’t want to be Daphne Fraser any more,’ Christophe said, taking her hand and kissing it lightly, ‘you could always be Daisy Cellan-Jones.’

  She blinked at him, astonished. When she managed to speak, her voice came out in a croak. ‘What?’

  Christophe laughed. ‘It’s sudden, I know, but … you seem to be in need of a new name, and you could always have mine, if you want it. In fact, I’d like you to.’

  Daisy looked down at herself and laughed. ‘I always hoped I’d be dressed when I got engaged.’

  Christophe sat up as well and put his arms around her waist. ‘You could never look more beautiful than
you do now.’ He put his cheek against hers. She felt his eyelashes move against her temple. ‘If you agree, I couldn’t be any happier. I love you, Daisy, I can’t live without you.’

  She felt tears start into her eyes. ‘I love you too,’ she whispered. ‘Yes, let’s go away and start a new life, Just the two of us.’ She hugged him tightly, inhaling his delicious, comforting scent.

  ‘There is one condition,’ he said, pulling away and looking at her seriously.

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘No more getting kidnapped in Siberia.’

  ‘OK, I promise.’

  ‘Then,’ he said, ‘I think we should seal the deal, don’t you?’

  He bent down and kissed her, pulling her tightly into his embrace. She kissed him back, full of delight. Thank God for Christophe. Wherever he is, is home.

  82

  COCO STOOD OUTSIDE the old Victorian terrace house on the edge of the estate where she used to live. Ever since she’d found out from her mother that Gus had indeed been her father, she’d felt a compulsion to return and see him. At first, she’d thought that knowing the truth would be enough, but the sense that she had to find him had grown stronger until she’d been unable to resist it. Besides, she had discovered so much lately on other people’s behalf, maybe it was time she did something for herself.

  Taking a deep breath, her hands shaking, she went to the door and knocked loudly several times. She waited, almost unable to breathe from tension, desperate for the door to open, but no one answered. He wasn’t in. The sense of disappointment was overwhelming. She’d been gearing herself up for the meeting all the way here, remembering how he had been in her childhood and preparing questions and what she would say to him. Now there was only a horrible sense of let down.

  She went back along the path and examined the house from the pavement. The blinds were down in every window and there was a general air of neglect about the place. Was it possible that he’d gone away somewhere? How would she find out? A cool breeze lifted her hair and she pulled her shaggy coat more tightly around her.

  Just then a window in the neighbouring house opened and a woman put her head out. ‘You looking for Gus?’ she called.

  ‘Yes.’ Coco perked up. ‘Do you know where he is?’

  The woman stared at her for a moment and then said, ‘You’d better come in, love.’

  A few moments later, she was sitting in the warm, comfortable kitchen of the house next door. The woman had introduced herself as Mandy and insisted on making her a cup of tea, bustling about as she talked, asking Coco how she knew Gus.

  ‘I used to live round here. Gus was a friend of my mum’s.’

  ‘Then you’ve seen how much worse the place has got lately. Properties falling to pieces. Problems with unemployed kids, gangs and drugs.’ Mandy shook her head. ‘Worse than ever.’ She sighed. ‘What can we do? I dunno.’

  ‘So, Gus …’ Coco prodded impatiently. ‘Do you know where he is? When he’ll be back?’

  Mandy put a cup of tea on the table in front of her and sat down. Her expression was serious. ‘There’s no easy way to say this, love, so I’ll come out with it. I’m afraid Gus has passed away.’

  Coco gasped. ‘What?’

  ‘’Fraid so. Sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings, love. It was only a month or so ago. The ambulance came and took him away, and he never came back. Heart attack, I think it was.’ She gave Coco a sympathetic look. ‘Like I say, sorry to give you the bad news.’

  Coco felt winded with shock. No! This was too unfair. A month ago? What awful, terrible timing. She buried her face in her hands. ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘There, there.’ Mandy put a hand out and rubbed her arm gently. ‘You’ve missed the funeral too. What a shame.’ She gazed at Coco sympathetically for a minute or two and then stood up, went to the dresser and picked up a bundle of envelopes. She brought them over and put them down in front of Coco. ‘Any idea what I can do with this lot? There’s been post coming for him and sometimes they give it to me when it won’t fit into the box.’

  Coco looked down at the cache of letters. Then she drew breath with a sharp gasp.

  ‘What is it, dear?’ Mandy eyed her curiously.

  Coco snatched up a letter and held it out in a trembling hand. ‘Is this really his name?’

  ‘What … Gus Dangerfield? Of course it is. Didn’t you know that?’ Mandy looked worried for a second.

  ‘I only knew him as Gus,’ Coco said, trying to keep control of herself. ‘I’m sorry … I don’t know what you should do with it.’

  But everything in her head was in a terrible whirl of confusion as she fought to work out what this meant.

  ‘I have to see her!’ Coco said desperately to the nurse at the ward desk.

  The woman gazed back at her sympathetically but shook her head. ‘It’s just not possible. She’s asleep for one thing, and heavily drugged to help with the pain. She won’t be awake for hours. Come back for visiting tomorrow.’

  ‘I have to ask her something,’ Coco burst out, straining to see down the long dim ward.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ the nurse said with a note of finality in her voice. ‘Your mother’s in no condition to talk. She’s very ill, Miss Hughes. Very ill indeed.’

  Coco returned to the Belgravia house looking white and strained.

  Daddy was waiting for her in the drawing room, obviously anxious for her return. He was letting her out of his sight less and less these days. That was going to make life difficult. She needed some time alone to think everything through. She had to make some enquiries as soon as possible, and Margaret was back this lunchtime. The option of researching further inside her office would not be there any longer.

  ‘Coco, Coco!’ Daddy called as she came into the hall.

  ‘Yes, Daddy.’ She took a deep breath, put a determined smile on her face and marched into the drawing room. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Where have you been?’ he demanded. ‘I’ve been lonely, that’s what.’

  ‘Oh, you know,’ she said carelessly. ‘Shopping.’

  ‘Shopping? Where are your bags?’ He looked suspiciously at her empty hands.

  ‘Silly Daddy! They’re delivering, of course,’ she responded easily. ‘I couldn’t carry all those bags.’

  His face cleared. ‘I suppose not.’ Then his mouth turned down again and his expression darkened. ‘Well, while you’ve been enjoying yourself, I’ve had some horrible news.’ He picked up a heavy lead-crystal glass and took a sip of the whisky inside it. ‘My wretch of a son, in cahoots with my thankless daughter, has issued another damn writ. Their claims are nonsense, of course, but I’ll have to fight them as though there are some grounds to this rubbish.’

  ‘Of course,’ Coco said, trying to sound unconcerned.

  ‘He’s here in England now, and I’m going to have to see him at a meeting of both sides and our lawyers.’ The old man seemed to slump momentarily, his shoulders giving way at the prospect. When he spoke again, his voice sounded reedy and plaintive. ‘I shall need you there, Coco! I can’t go on my own to face Will and Sarah.’

  She had felt something like a physical blow to her stomach at the sound of Will’s name. The idea of facing him over a table in a lawyer’s office by his father’s side made her feel sick, especially after what she had found out.

  ‘You’ll come, won’t you?’ Daddy said beseechingly. ‘I know you made friends with him in the States, but he’ll have to know about us sooner or later.’

  The nausea in Coco’s stomach swelled and rose, making her fear she might have to bolt for the cloakroom. She managed to speak despite her dry mouth. ‘Of course I will.’

  At once Daddy looked relieved, a smile on his thin lips. ‘There’s my good girl. I can face it if I’m with you. Now – come and give me a kiss.’

  Coco went whiter than ever. ‘I … I … I’ll be back in a moment,’ she said as brightly as she could, and then ran for the door.

  She was violently ill into the downstairs lavatory.

>   83

  WILL SAT AT the desk of his suite in the Mandarin Oriental, staring at his computer screen. The big meeting was in two days’ time, and he was determined to be prepared to the last detail. With any luck, the strain of it might cause the old man to keel over of a heart attack there and then and save them all a lot of trouble.

  As long as he hasn’t already married that … that … Will wanted to think of her as a bitch, a gold-digging whore, but he couldn’t bring himself to form the thought. Why not? Coco didn’t matter to him any longer, he knew that. She was just a piece of ass he’d once had. His inability to forget her was driving him mad.

  He’d already decided that once the meeting was over, he’d see some old girlfriends, go clubbing, try to find someone to wipe the memory of her clean from his mind.

  The telephone on his desk rang. He picked it up. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Reception here, sir. You have a visitor.’

  ‘A visitor?’ Will glanced at the time. It was after ten o’clock at night. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘The lady says she’s your sister, sir.’

  Will’s mind raced. Sarah? Not likely, she was staying with a friend in Ealing and probably in bed by now. And anyway, wouldn’t she call first? He picked up his phone to check it but there were no missed calls or texts. ‘Could you put her on please?’

  ‘I’m afraid I’ve already sent her up, sir. I hope that was all right.’ The voice was apologetic.

  ‘OK.’ He put the phone into the cradle just as there was a knock on the door. He got up, walked over and looked through the spy hole. The person had turned their back so that all he could see was a pair of slim shoulders and a dark headscarf. Who the fuck was this? He considered not answering but his curiosity was too great. Who would pretend to be his sister? He opened the door. ‘Yes?’

  The woman turned around. A flash of dark-blonde hair emerged from below the headscarf; a pair of outsized dark glasses covered most of the face, but he knew the shape of those lips and the determined chin and that slender neck. As he realised who it was, she lifted one hand to her face and removed her sunglasses.