by Rosie Clarke
‘It may have seemed a small thing but it meant a lot to her,’ Lizzie said, ‘but where would she go? I don’t think she has enough money to go abroad…unless she’s staying with someone she knows… She doesn’t have any foreign friends, does she?’
‘Not to my knowledge,’ he said, ‘but I’m going to find out. This is my fault, Lizzie, and I’ll find her. I promise you I will find her, however long it takes me…’
*
‘Matt… can we meet?’ Frank asked over the telephone. ‘Look, I don’t want to worry you but I’ve got something to tell you about that damned Frenchie Betty was hanging around with…’
‘Where are you?’ Matt asked. ‘I’m a bit busy at the moment. Tony wants me to help him with some bookwork. I hate doing his boring shop accounts but he’s my stepfather and he’s been good to us since Mum married him… a hell of a lot better than the one she had before…’
‘I’m working at Marshall’s airport in Cambridge for a few days,’ Frank said, ‘but I was briefly at Gatwick yesterday. It’s so much bigger since they spent seven million on it and I’ve been asked to do an efficiency report and I was having a first look round – but, never mind that, what matters is that I think I saw Betty with Saint-Jacquez…’
‘What would she be doing at an airport? You must be mistaken, Frank. I’m sure she’s at home…Mum would’ve told me…’
‘It’s just that I’ve discovered something about him… something worrying…’ Frank hesitated then, ‘I don’t want to say on the phone. I could get the train up in the morning – can we meet?’
‘Sure, come round and we’ll have a drink and then go to the cricket match at Lords…’
‘Fine, but just go round and make sure Betty is OK, will you? I shan’t rest until I know for sure. I’ll see you tomorrow lunchtime…’
Frank put down the phone, frowning, because he couldn’t get the picture of a girl’s face out of his mind. He’d only caught a fleeting glance of her as the couple passed through the gate in the departures lounge at Gatwick. Frank was certain the man was Pierre Saint-Jacquez but the girl’s face had been turned from him. He’d hesitated, uncertain of what he’d seen and then his attention was drawn by the man who had commissioned his report and when he looked again the couple had disappeared.
Frank frowned, because if it was Betty, if she had gone off with that devil, he would never forgive himself. He’d made a phone call that evening to a colleague who was working in Amsterdam, but hadn’t been able to reach him until this morning. Ahmed had mentioned Saint-Jacquez a couple of times before, but Frank hadn’t been interested until he discovered that Betty was getting involved with him. Ahmed had told him that he had no proof but believed that Pierre might be involved with a man of Turkish descent who was known in certain circles for abducting girls who were never seen nor heard of again.
‘You’re joking!’ Frank had been horrified. ‘How does Saint-Jacquez come into it?’
‘I don’t know that he does,’ Frank’s informant admitted. ‘I only know that he has a reputation for picking up girls and dropping them when he’s had enough of them, bit of a lothario if you ask me… but someone told me that he’d been seen with this other chap in London at an illegal gambling club… and …a girl I liked disappeared after going off with him…’ He hesitated, then, ‘It’s a racket, my friend. They get the girls hooked on heroin or cocaine and then they imprison them somewhere, make them have sex for money with the men they bring to the house, until they’re no longer fit to work…’
‘My God,’ Frank groaned. ‘I asked because he’s been hanging round a girl I know…’
‘Then you’d better make her aware of what he’s like and fast…’
Frank closed his eyes as he heard the office door open behind him and his manager’s voice asking if he’d finished with the phone. If that devil had taken Betty somewhere he would never forgive himself…
Chapter 4
‘It’s lovely to see you,’ Lizzie said and gave Beth a hug as she welcomed her into the kitchen. Her friend was wearing a smart new navy blue dress with short sleeves, a flared skirt and a large white collar that stood up at the back, pairing it with a navy and white hat that perched on the back of her head and complemented the flicking curls around it. ‘How are you?’
‘Really well,’ Beth said, smiling. ‘Tony took me to see My Fair Lady at Drury Lane last night. I’ve wanted to see it ever since it came out in April, but it was such a sell-out that it was impossible to get tickets before now. It was wonderful…’
‘How lovely,’ Lizzie said and smothered a sigh. All she could think about right now was what had happened to Betty! Yet she didn’t want to spoil her friend’s pleasure. ‘I knew it had been given rave reviews, but sometimes it’s a disappointment when you actually get to see it…’
‘Not this time. I loved it,’ Beth said and then frowned as she sensed Lizzie’s mood. ‘What is it, love? I know something’s wrong… is it Betty? Only when Matt rang and asked to talk to her, Sebastian was a bit short with him and said she was out…’
Lizzie took a deep breath, because she couldn’t hide it from her best friend any longer. Sebastian had stressed they must keep it to themselves, because he was certain Betty would come home when she got over her temper.
‘Betty ran away. She and Sebastian had a row and he banished her to her bedroom. When I came back she’d smashed things he’d given her, left me a note and gone off.’
‘You’ve no idea where? She hasn’t gone to stay with Miriam for a while?’
‘Not this time,’ Lizzie said and shook her head. ‘It’s been four days now, Beth, and I’m worried to death…’
‘Four days and you didn’t tell me?’
‘I kept thinking she would be back – and I suppose I thought if I didn’t talk about it maybe it would all be all right…’ She caught back a sob. ‘Sebastian says she’s just playing up and will come back when she’s ready but…’
‘She’s a naughty girl to upset you like this,’ Beth said. ‘After all you went through in the war years, you’re entitled to be happy and secure these days…’
‘I can’t help worrying, Beth, though I know she does get moody…’ Lizzie said. Betty took after Harry for her ability to sulk, but Lizzie was hopeful that she would come home soon and apologise to her father for upsetting them all. ‘I wish she would just phone or send us a card – anything to let us know she’s all right…’
‘She’s spoilt that’s her trouble,’ Beth said. ‘You’ve let her run rings round you, Lizzie.’
Lizzie shook her head, because she knew Beth thought she spoiled Betty too much but she didn’t want to argue about it when she was so on edge. Turning the subject, she asked, ‘How are all your family?’
‘Lizzie, don’t change the subject. What happened between Sebastian and Betty and what made her go off… it isn’t like her. I know she sulks sometimes, but she always gets over it. Matt says you just have to know how to handle her… he’s a bit worried about her for some reason, though he wouldn’t tell me why…’
‘It just blew up out of nowhere…’ Lizzie held back a sob. ‘I’ve been so worried, Beth. I know it’s just a few days, but apart from that school trip to Austria, she’s never been away from home without me and she’s only seventeen…’
‘Nearly eighteen – haven’t you noticed how grown-up she’s getting lately? Sebastian should stop trying to treat her as if she’s still a schoolgirl…’
‘Beth, he doesn’t… does he?’
‘He’s not quite as bad as your aunt was with you,’ Beth said. ‘But he does tend to come the heavy father a bit too much, and that’s why you give in to her all the time. She’s a rebel, a bit like you were when you married Harry. Lizzie, don’t look like that, because you were as impulsive as she is. I shouldn’t worry too much. I imagine she’ll come home when she runs out of money.’
‘I’ve never seen Sebastian as angry with her… though he’s regretting it now.’
‘He’s
not the only one, Lizzie. Matt and Tony are arguing again,’ Beth said and pulled a wry face. ‘It’s strange how they can bond over some things, like in February; mourning together when the Munich disaster happened and all those Manchester United footballers were killed, and then going mad with delight when Brazil won the World Cup – but then they fall out over whose turn it is to put out the dustbins…’
‘Oh, fathers and sons always argue …’ Lizzie laughed. ‘At least so I’ve heard. I haven’t been lucky enough to have a son yet…’
‘You’re not brooding about that, are you?’ Beth said and shook her head. ‘You know what the doctor said, love. Besides, children are often more trouble than they’re worth if you ask me.’
‘You know you don’t mean that,’ Lizzie said and gave her a teasing look. ‘Who’s as proud as punch because she’ll soon be a grandmother then?’
‘Oh, my Jenny is no trouble, and nor is Tom,’ Beth agreed. ‘It’s just Matt I’m worried about – I keep thinking he and Tony will come to blows… he got so cross because Matt cut college to go on that CND march to Aldermaston, even though he passed his exams with flying colours…’
‘I’m sure you’re wrong,’ Lizzie said and poured deliciously fragrant coffee into large earthenware cups. ‘You tell me not to worry about Betty but you’re just as bad about your three… come on, let’s enjoy our coffee and cake and then we’ll go shopping and forget all about errant children.
Except that she wouldn’t, because neither she nor Sebastian had done anything but worry about Betty since she left. She might be nearly eighteen and grown up, but it was natural to worry over a girl who’d just run off on a whim. If she’d said where she was going or who with it wouldn’t have been so bad. As it was they were both frantic with worry. Sebastian had been out every night searching the cafes and coffee bars looking for her, but so far he was no nearer to finding her than he had been at the start…
*
Paris was all Betty could ever have hoped for and particularly the older quarters around Montmartre; once the very centre of the bohemian life led by artists, their models and those who came to experience the gaiety of the thriving nightlife, it was fascinating to a girl who had never before experienced such a heady mixture of beauty and faded decadence. The white dome of the Basilica of the Sacré-Cœur presided over the crowded hill and its maze of little streets, nightclubs and cafés, and the majestic river that wound through the city. The Left Bank where she wandered when Pierre was busy working and the artists sketched your portrait in seconds and then offered to paint you properly for a few francs had become a favourite haunt for Betty since she’d been here, and more than one had drawn her face and asked if she would model for them, to be answered by a smile and a shake of the head. Betty didn’t mind spending most of her days alone, because there was always something new to see and explore. She loved the little boats that seemed to skim up and down the Seine; the narrow alleys that twisted and turned endlessly and where you could get lost for an afternoon looking through dusty windows into tiny shops that smelled of spices and herbs and sold everything and anything; the beautiful soft cream stone of graceful but ancient buildings and unbelievably blue skies; the magnificent cathedral of Notre Dame and the flower sellers who called out to Pierre when he took her out in the early evening, and persuaded him to buy her a rose or a tiny bunch of violets. She adored the little cafés and the dark soft nights, the taste of the wine and the fresh crusty bread, delicious food with lots of garlic; coffee in bowls with no handles, tables without cloths, waiters who babbled at her in French so rapidly that they might have been speaking in Chinese, and the girls who all looked so well dressed that they made her feel like a tramp in her jeans and tight jumpers. And most of all she loved Pierre and the way he loved her.
Pierre had taken her to his apartment, a tiny old-fashioned garret that they entered by means of a wooden staircase built on the outside walls that looked ancient enough to give way under their weight, but he’d laughed at her when she’d looked dubious and threatened to carry her up if she was too scared to walk. Inside, it consisted of a small kitchen, and an even smaller toilet with a washbasin, and a long studio, with a nook at one end hidden only by a thick curtain in which Pierre had his bed. His clothes were stored in a large very battered chest of drawers or scattered over the chairs and slung on hooks from the wall. Betty didn’t know where to put hers, so she left them in her suitcase and thrust it under the bed.
If she occasionally felt a pang for her lovely spacious bedroom at home and the wardrobe filled with her things, it was forgotten as Pierre kissed her, then pulled her down on the unmade bed and loved her with a passion that took her breath away and left her weeping in his arms. For two weeks Betty lived in a delirium of happiness. Pierre was gentle and loving, taking her to see all the things she’d only read of in guidebooks, laughing at her as she blossomed in the freedom and the warm sunshine, feeding her delicious patisseries and forcing her to eat escargot in garlic, which she found so delicious she ate all of his portion as well as her own. They walked, went on the river, explored, drank wine and made love and it was paradise, beyond her dreams and more. As a young girl, she’d fantasised about being in love and living somewhere exciting but also of being famous like her mum was for making hats. Sebastian’s dismissal of her talent had hurt her and she was glad she’d run away. Perhaps he was sorry now!
It was one Saturday afternoon at the end of those wonderful two weeks that Betty realised there was a serpent in paradise. It was after they’d lunched with some of Pierre’s friends at one of their favourite cafés by the river. Pierre had been drinking steadily, laughing with Michele and especially Janine, a beautiful girl who worked as a mannequin for one of the many fashion houses. When they got home, he immediately drew Betty into their bedroom and made love to her. It was so good that she wept for sheer happiness.
‘Why do you weep, my little one?’ he asked in that soft voice that turned her knees to butter and made her ready to die in his arms. ‘Did I hurt you?’
‘Oh no,’ she sobbed and buried her face in his shoulder, inhaling the salty scent of his sweat and the musk of their mingled sex. ‘It was so gorgeous… I never knew making love could be so satisfying, Pierre.’
‘That’s because you were just a child when you came to me and now you are my woman – no?’ He smiled confidently down into her eyes and Betty glowed. He’d told her how beautiful she was as he kissed every little inch of her body, caressing it with his tongue and bringing her to a state of tingling need, and now he was starting to do it again. ‘Perhaps you are still half-child, half-woman…’ he suggested, teasing her with his tongue and lips until she was gasping with longing. ‘No, no, my darling, I shall not give you what you want just yet. You must earn it… you must learn to please me as I please you…’
Betty opened her eyes in surprise. She had no idea what he meant and as he began to explain what he wanted she was shocked and a little repulsed at some of the things he demanded, but she reached for him with her hand tentatively and touched with one finger as he said, growing bolder as she saw his reaction, and then she bent her head and licked the length of his shaft, feeling the leap of excitement that went through him.
‘Oh yes,’ Pierre said and encouraged her in his soft seductive voice. ‘I think you will be a good learner, my sweet, and you will repay me for all I’ve given you, believe me… and now take me into your mouth and…’
Betty had moved on to kissing his smooth flat stomach as she stroked his sex with her hand, but she jerked back and stared at him, not sure she’d heard right and somehow not ready for such an act. She was like a little puppy in her desire to please and yet a little afraid; she wasn’t ready to go so fast and she hesitated.
‘Must I?’ she asked plaintively. ‘I don’t think I want to…’
‘You do not want to please me?’ There was a new note in his voice that worried Betty. Did he think she was an immature child? Of course she was compared to some of the women he kne
w. ‘Surely you are not so selfish…?’
Not wanting to spoil their lovely adventure, she did as he asked, at first licking the softly rounded tip of his sex and then, as he approved and made a guttural sound in his throat, she opened her mouth and took just the first part of his large shaft inside the moist warmth of her mouth. She moved her head back and forth not trying to take more than a little of him in, but Pierre grabbed her head and pushed her forward as he thrust so that suddenly he was filling her mouth, thrusting back and forth against the back of her throat and making her feel as if she would gag. Perhaps it was fortunate for her that he came very quickly and moved away to spill his seed over her long hair as he withdrew.
Betty drew back, tears on her face, but this time they were not tears of joy. She felt for the first time that he didn’t really care what she wanted, otherwise he wouldn’t force her to do something that she didn’t like. It was all so different to anything she’d ever experienced or imagined. She’d never even had a proper kiss until she met Pierre and she’d thought it so romantic when he declared he loved her, couldn’t live without her and wanted her to go to Paris with him. Betty hadn’t thought about the future at all. She’d just wanted to leave home and make her parents sorry for doubting her, but she’d believed Pierre loved her and she supposed she’d thought he would take care of her and marry her one day, but now it seemed that he wanted something more than the sweet lovemaking she’d so enjoyed. The force he’d used made her angry and distressed but she didn’t want him to leave her or stop loving her, so when he bent over and kissed her lips, licking at her and teasing his tongue into her mouth she allowed him to do as he liked, and when he grew tired of her unresponsiveness he began to kiss her breasts and then moved slowly down her body until he reached her sex. His assault on the citadel of her femininity with his lips and tongue made her gasp with pleasure and her body writhed, responding to him even though she’d been angry with him for forcing her to do something she hadn’t been comfortable with. She cried out at last, unable to hold back as the waves of pleasure burst over her and something unexpected happened inside; it was a feeling of such exquisite pleasure that seemed to ripple through her in a wave and she dug her nails into his bare shoulders as hard as she could.