by Lulu Taylor
‘Come on, let’s get you out.’ Nick began to unbuckle her seatbelt.
‘Otto?’ Flora’s voice was high and tremulous.
‘He’s out of it. He’ll come round in a minute, don’t you worry about that.’ The next instant, as Octavia reached the car, Nick was helping her sister out.
‘Flora!’ she cried, her eyes streaming with tears, and as Flora climbed out of the car, dazed and pale, she saw her twin. She gasped but couldn’t speak. Her expression told the whole story. The sisters fell into each other’s arms, sobbing.
‘I knew you’d come for me,’ wept Flora. ‘I kn-kn-kn-knew you would in the end …’
‘I’m sorry it’s taken so long,’ Octavia said through her own tears. ‘Can you ever forgive me?’
Nick had gone round to Otto’s door. He opened it and quickly rifled through the pockets of the unconscious man’s jacket. He came over to them, Flora’s passport in his hand. ‘We’d better go. Sonny Jim is going to be waking up any second now.’
Otto groaned loudly as if for answer.
‘My bag,’ Flora said anxiously, looking towards the trunk.
Nick reached into the trunk and pulled out the black holdall. ‘Now, let’s go.’
An old woman in a flowered apron and sensible clogs came out of the castle, no doubt alerted by all the noise. She stopped short at the scene in front of her and gazed at them all, astonished. ‘Flora?’ she said in a guttural German accent.
‘Oh … Marthe …’ Flora stared back at her, and then looked towards Otto, who was now stirring in the driver’s seat and opening his eyes.
‘Come on,’ ordered Nick curtly. ‘No time. We have to go.’
They ran across the concrete towards the helicopter, their hair blown back by the gust of the propellers. Nick pushed Flora’s head down as they approached, then helped both girls in as Frau Gestenholtz watched in wonder, hands still tucked into her apron pockets.
‘Quickly, please,’ Max said as they busied themselves with their buckles and headsets. ‘We’ve got to go right now if we’re going to make that refuelling stop.’
Nick had just pulled the door to as the aircraft lifted off, rising gently in to the air until it had cleared the trees. Octavia looked down at the schloss. She saw Otto stagger out of the wrecked car and start stumbling towards them. His face was contorted and he was clearly screaming at the top of his lungs but they couldn’t hear a thing over the roar of the helicopter’s engine. The old woman, staring upwards in amazement, mouthed the word ‘Flora’ again, as the aircraft lifted away and disappeared over the tree tops.
‘That,’ said Max, ‘was easier than we had any right to expect.’
‘Not so easy,’ Nick said with a laugh, tucking his pistol back into his jacket. ‘But it wasn’t as nasty as it could have been if that shithead hadn’t knocked himself out.’
Octavia turned to her sister, hardly able to believe that Flora was back with her again. She looked tired and thin, but her eyes were bright with happiness despite the tears she was still shedding. Their hands were clasped tightly together, as though they would never let each other go again.
Part Three
67
The day after Octavia returned to London with Flora, Roddy had sent her a message.
Iseult is awake. Come and see her.
Octavia had gone to the hospital, half fearing what she was going to find. Roddy had paid for Iseult to be moved to a private room and had hired a nurse who was with her day and night, making sure that she received the highest standards of care. Once Iseult began to eat, Roddy said, he would arrange for the finest food in London to be brought to her, whatever might tempt her appetite back. But it was uncertain how long it would be before her face would have healed well enough for her to be able to eat normal food. With bandages still covering most of her face so that she was unable to open her mouth very far, it would be purées and very soft things for a good few weeks.
The first visit had not been the worst by any means. Iseult had been very drowsy then, coming to her senses after nearly a week, still dazed on the heavy-duty painkillers that were constantly dripping into her bloodstream. ‘What happened?’ she asked, her voice sounding thick and strange through her swollen mouth. ‘What am I doing here?’
Octavia held her hand, which was still in bandages. ‘You’re in hospital, sweetheart. You had an accident, remember?’
‘Accident?’ Only one of Iseult’s arresting yellow-green eyes was visible, the other covered by a thick pad and closely bandaged. ‘What was it? The car?’
‘No … no …’ Octavia looked up at Roddy, who was grey-faced. Neither of them wanted to tell her. ‘Can’t you remember anything?’
‘No … no … I’m so tired.’ Her eye flickered and drooped shut and she sank into sleep again.
Roddy rubbed a hand over his stubbly head. ‘I don’t know how I’m going to tell her.’
‘Have any of her family been? Can’t they tell her?’
Roddy gave her a look. ‘You’ve never met her sisters, have you? Yes, they’ve been in. But, put it this way, I wouldn’t want to hear about my severe trauma and disfigurement from one of them. Her mother sent a card and a bunch of flowers –’ he nodded to a bouquet drooping in a vase in the corner ‘– and says she’ll pop in when she has the time.’
Octavia gave a small laugh of outrage. ‘Great! When she can fit it into her diary …’
‘No one else knows about this yet,’ Roddy said, moving closer to Iseult’s side and gazing down at her. ‘I’ve managed to keep it under wraps. I know she wouldn’t want it to be gossiped about.’ He looked up at Octavia. He was tired, she could tell, from his constant commuting between Paris and London. He had had to return to work but came over every other day to see Iseult. ‘I’ll tell her what happened. It was my fault anyway. If I hadn’t kept that stupid studio in that filthy block of flats, this would never have happened.’
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Octavia said softly. ‘It was that brute who kept those dreadful dogs.’
When she’d returned to see Iseult the following day, her friend had been much more awake, and now knew what had happened.
‘I wish they had killed me, the damn things,’ she muttered through her puffy lips. ‘They say my eye is gone, so I shall see this half-arsed way for the rest of my life.’
‘Oh, Iseult …’ Octavia had almost wept for her then, horrified to think of Iseult’s best, most unusual feature, that pair of slanting yellowish eyes, ruined for ever.
But that was nothing compared to the day Iseult saw her face for the first time. The surgeons had done what they could in the initial operation, but their priority had been simply to save tissue and reattach skin and muscle. A plastic surgeon had attended too, but it would only be later that they could begin work on trying to repair the aesthetic damage: the scars left by those tearing, ripping teeth.
Iseult’s scream had echoed from her room and out into the corridor. The nurses on the ward desk had looked up, and then at each other, knowing what must be happening.
The dogs had taken a fair bit of flesh when they’d ripped Iseult’s face from the bones of her skull, and what was left was now horribly distorted and twisted. Livid purple weals where the tears were healing covered the entire left side of her face, and it could be seen that her bad eye, although still covered, had been dragged downwards. She now had ripples of skin in ugly raised contours around it.
No one could pretend that Iseult would ever look vaguely normal again. Her face was difficult to see without gasping. The plastic surgeons came in and spoke positively about rebuilding and repairing the damage, about skin grafts and the wonderful advances in all the different types of facial surgery, and for a while they would all feel positive about her prospects. But after the surgeons had gone, they would realise that even if things could be improved, it would be a long and very painful journey.
‘Is it even worth it, darlings?’ Iseult would joke. ‘My face wasn’t exactly an oil painting to start with!
Perhaps I could get used to this.’
But Octavia could hear the despair under the brittle humour. They knew that Iseult was calling on all her resources merely to face each new day, to fight the dreadfulness of her own situation.
‘Whatever it takes,’ Roddy said to Octavia, as they sat in the hospital café over cups of coffee one day. ‘I can pay for the best in the world. If she has to go to America, wherever, it’s no problem.’
Octavia smiled at him. ‘We can both look after her. I’m sure it will be all right in the end.’
But it was hard to see how Iseult, fragile at the best of times, would be able to endure it.
68
Flora was utterly determined.
‘I’m not going from one prison to another,’ she said forcefully. ‘That’s been my whole life. I’ve got to break free. I won’t let Otto win.’
Octavia and Vicky were stunned by her strength. On her return, Flora had been just as they had feared: thin, frightened, exhausted, and clearly badly abused, both mentally and physically. A doctor came to the house as soon as they got back, and said that while she was outwardly well, if a little underweight, she clearly needed complete rest.
Octavia refused to leave her sister’s side, sleeping on a camp bed in her room, dashing to her when Flora wailed in the night and woke up sobbing and sweating.
‘It’s all right, sweetie, you’re home now,’ she’d soothe her, stroking her sister’s hair as Flora trembled in her arms. ‘You’re all right. You’re going to be fine.’
Flora would never say what had happened at the schloss to give her such awful nightmares. She spoke about her strange captivity with only Otto’s mother for company and the total lack of any contact with the outside world. She said that Otto was cold and cruel to her, but she couldn’t begin to describe the systematic degradation he had inflicted on her, designed perhaps to break her, but probably more to satisfy his own desires. Her horror came not just from what she had experienced but from the constant fear she had suffered of what he might do to her in the future. She had sensed strongly that he was only taking the first tentative steps in this game he enjoyed so much. He was a voyeur, that much was certain, obsessed with semen – his own and other people’s – and with an interest in sadism. She was sure that he would have continued to experiment with her and that his interests would have gone from strength to strength, becoming far worse than anything she had suffered so far.
It was the realisation of her own lucky escape before the worst things came to pass that frightened Flora so much. In her dreams Otto was coming for her, finding her, locking doors and turning to smile at her with that thin cold smile, those brown eyes burning with a lust that was monumentally selfish.
‘He’ll never touch you again!’ Octavia cried, when Flora sobbed out that he was coming, to keep him away from her. ‘You never have to see or speak to him again!’
In the daytime Flora seemed to have recovered from her night terrors, and within a couple of days was keen to be outside, walking about the streets of London and relishing her freedom. I was stupid to be afraid before, she told herself, what on earth did I have to be frightened of then? Life outside still made her nervous, but now that she knew the dread of having it taken away, she was determined to overcome her fears.
Octavia came with her, though, and Steve, with his Special Forces bodyguard training, was never far away, just in case Otto tried to do something.
They all knew that however much they might wish the opposite, Flora’s relationship with him was far from finished. She was married to him after all and had signed her fortune over to him. Flora’s fear was that he could order her back somehow or claim control of her.
‘No, that’s just not possible. Besides, we’ll hire the best lawyers,’ declared Octavia, ‘the very best there are! Don’t worry, Flora, you’ll be fine.’
Octavia had gone to visit Iseult. Flora was at home, alternately reading and dozing, when Vicky came in to tell her she had a visitor.
‘Who?’ Flora said, with frightened eyes, trying to quell the fear that automatically leapt up inside her.
‘Don’t worry, I wouldn’t let anyone in I didn’t trust.’ Vicky smiled. ‘I think you’ll be pleased. It’s Nick Falcon.’
‘Really?’ She felt her heart lift. ‘Okay. I’ll be right there.’ She went to the dressing table to brush her hair. Her reflection told her that in just over a week, she was already far from the woman Nick had helped out of Otto’s car that morning. She looked less haunted and gaunt, though she was still thin. The dark circles around her eyes were lifting, and the constant tremor in her hands was beginning to subside. It was wonderful to have a fresh wardrobe of clothes to wear as well – she couldn’t bring herself to put on anything she’d worn in the castle. Now she was simply dressed in jeans, dusky pink vest top and a light cream cardigan. She made sure she looked all right, and then went downstairs.
She opened the drawing-room door tentatively and peeped round it. There he was, in a dark suit, his black hair curling onto the collar. Seeing him was like witnessing someone in colour after knowing only black-and-white. After months spent with Otto, Nick seemed incredibly vivid, glowing with life and health and strength. Otto, she knew now, was a pathetic weakling who enjoyed exerting power over her, probably to make up for his own deficiencies. Nick, she sensed, had no such problems. He moved like a man who was confident in himself – but then, he was a good six foot tall and startlingly handsome with it, from the silver streaks in the black hair at his temples to those penetratingly sharp black eyes.
‘Hey,’ he said, standing up as she came in. His eyes brightened. ‘How are you?’
Flora moved towards him and there was an awkward moment while they faced each other not sure whether to shake hands or to embrace. The drama that they’d been through together seemed to have bonded them even though they knew so little about each other.
‘Hi,’ Flora said with a smile, and went forward to kiss his cheek: it was faintly stubbly under her lips.
They stood back and regarded one another.
‘You look a hell of a lot better,’ Nick said heartily. ‘You were kind of beat-up looking when I last saw you.’
She reached out and took his warm hand in hers, surprising herself by the action. ‘I owe you such a lot,’ she said sincerely. ‘You saved me back there. Octavia told me it was your idea to come and get me – another hour and Otto and I would have been gone. And …’ she smiled ‘… if it hadn’t been for your good aim, I could have been in that car, heading down the mountain.’
Nick looked pleased but embarrassed. ‘Anyone would have done the same.’ He stared at the floor and then coughed. ‘Anyway … bearing in mind what a major situation we had there, I just wanted to come by and see how you are.’
Flora nodded. ‘You know what? I’m doing so much better than I thought I would be. I just don’t want to waste my time. Otto’s stolen so much of my life, I’m determined not to let him have any more.’
‘That’s a great attitude,’ Nick said, admiration in his dark eyes.
‘Come on, let’s sit down. I’ll get us some tea.’
‘Er, coffee, if you have it, please,’ he said with a laugh. ‘I’ve lived in Britain a while now, but I’ve never picked up the habit of drinking tea.’
They sat together and talked. Flora wanted to speak about anything but her ordeal, so she asked him about his life, and he told her about growing up in Chicago and how his mother, an English doctor, had brought the family over here when he was a teenager and he’d ended up staying.
‘But you never lost your accent,’ remarked Flora, thinking how much she liked his easy way of talking and the way his eyes changed from brown to black depending on the light.
‘Nope.’ He shook his head. ‘They say that once a boy’s voice breaks, he’s stuck with the accent he had at that moment.’
‘Really?’
He laughed. ‘I dunno. It’s probably a myth. Actually, I’ve found having an American accent useful.
English people are always judging one another by the way they talk. I slip out of that net – and into a whole different one called “stupid Yanks”.’
Flora laughed too. This is bliss, she thought. A normal conversation with a normal man. But – she reminded herself – I thought Otto was normal. How am I ever going to trust my judgement again?
After they’d chatted and drunk their coffee, Nick looked awkward and said, ‘At some point, we ought to talk about the situation with your husband, you know.’
‘Yes.’ Flora looked down into her cup. ‘But not right now.’
‘Do you still want me to stay on the case?’ he asked gently. ‘There’s going to be a lot to sort out.’
‘Yes, I do,’ she said at once. ‘I don’t want a stranger involved.’
‘Because I think you’ve got good grounds for annulment,’ Nick said seriously. ‘I’m going to look into all the options for you, okay? I want to do all I can for you. I mean it.’
‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’
‘Don’t thank me.’ He smiled at her and his dark eyes softened. ‘I’m going to take great pleasure in helping you get this jerk out of your life for good.’
69
‘One day you’ll have to meet my sister,’ Octavia said to Ethan over a table in Scott’s, where they were dining. ‘It’s weird to think we’ve been together all this time, and you haven’t met her.’
‘Yeah. How’s she doing? Is she okay?’ Ethan prepared to slurp down another oyster from the icy platter in front of him.
‘She’s fine – amazing, considering – but I think she’s not really up to meeting strangers right now.’
‘Fine by me. Whenever. Listen, are you coming to Shagi’s party later tonight? She’s giving a bash at her place. It’s going to be wild, knowing her. She told me it was going to be super-classy – you know what that means?’
Octavia shook her head.
‘Ah, you’re getting boring in your old age,’ he said dismissively.