Beautiful Creatures

by Lulu Taylor

  ‘I don’t think I can bear it,’ Flora had said, going dead white. For some reason, the idea of Nick knowing was particularly dreadful.

  ‘You must. We have to. He’ll help us.’ Octavia refused to take no for an answer, even though Flora felt agonised with embarrassment, and not just that. She felt soiled and dirty and somehow complicit, as though she’d gone along willingly with Otto’s desires.

  ‘There’s a video too,’ Octavia said now.

  Nick looked appalled. He clenched his fist. ‘Christ, this guy is a fucking low-life – excuse my language, ladies.’ He shook his head again, even more amazed. ‘What a piece of shit! I guess he understands that the press go crazy for stories like this: wealthy, beautiful heiress in a real-life sex scandal, with the whole thing available for download.’

  Octavia clasped her sister’s hand even more tightly. ‘Some people might be able to live this down,’ she said, ‘but not Flora. She’s too sensitive, too delicate. This would kill her. We have to keep a lid on this.’

  Nick looked over at Flora. His expression softened ‘This is about you, honey. Is that what you want too? You want us to pay this guy off? We can, you know, with certain conditions and clauses to ensure he plays ball. You say the word and it’s done. And you know what? I, for one, would completely understand. I would think no worse of you for it. This is a big bad choice and I’m fucking thankful I don’t have to make it.’

  Flora held on to Octavia for strength. Much of the resolution and determination she’d gathered over the last few weeks seemed have to melted away from her. She felt weak and helpless again, at Otto’s mercy. Could she really live with those pictures in the public domain? The moments they had preserved were the worst of her life, the most desperately intimate and deeply hurtful memories she had. They’d be out there for the world to gawp over, laugh at, make jokes about, as though she didn’t matter and as though she hadn’t suffered.

  I can’t let it happen, she thought desperately. I won’t! I’ll do whatever he wants …

  ‘Please,’ she said, gazing up imploringly at Nick. ‘Please – just make it go away!’

  He stared at her for a long while, sympathy in his dark eyes. ‘Okay, honey,’ he said at last. ‘You got it.’

  Octavia volunteered to see Nick out. In the hallway, she stopped him for a moment.

  ‘Nick,’ she said urgently, ‘I don’t have to tell you what a state my sister is in.’

  ‘No.’ He looked down at her and she could see both compassion and anger burning in his eyes. ‘She is in a bad way, and who can blame her, poor kid? I tell you what, my dream scenario is turning that shithead in to the police for fraud, false pretences and blackmail. But he’s very effectively stopped that from happening.’ Nick’s expression became frustrated.

  ‘It’s not just this.’ Octavia put her hand on his coat sleeve. ‘It’s that report on our mother. I want you to destroy it, Nick. Flora is so fragile, she mustn’t be put through any further trauma. I want everything wiped from the file. And you have my guarantee that she will never want to know where our mother is.’

  Nick looked awkward. ‘You’ve put me in an uncomfortable position here, Octavia,’ he said slowly, a furrow of concern appearing between his dark eyebrows. ‘Your sister is the client, not you. I can’t really destroy the work she commissioned on your orders.’

  ‘You saw her in there!’ Octavia said hotly. ‘She’s in no fit state to take any decisions herself! And with her in that condition, I have to act for her, don’t you see?’

  ‘I guess that makes sense.’ He smiled his lopsided smile and Octavia could see how good-looking he was. She wondered if Flora had noticed it too. It was funny, but lately her own ideas of what was handsome had changed. She found a rugged, lived-in look more appealing than sugary good looks. Nick went on. ‘I’m not sure … I’ve never worked with identical twins before. I’m not sure of the ethics of the situation. Can one be considered a kind of stand-in for the other?’

  ‘Yes they can.’ Octavia smiled back. ‘I’m so glad you understand, Nick, thanks.’

  She saw him out, relief flooding over her. Now they could put that thorny issue behind them once and for all. There was no need for the difficult and painful matter of their mother ever to see the light of day. She, for one, preferred it that way.

  ‘Octavia?’ It was Vicky, emerging from the shadow of the back hallway. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing what you were saying.’ She came up to her cousin, her expression serious. ‘I don’t know if this is the right thing to do.’

  ‘Of course it is,’ snapped Octavia, irritated that she was interfering.

  ‘Perhaps this is just the right time for Flora to find her mother. Perhaps she needs her now more than ever.’

  ‘Don’t be an idiot,’ retorted Octavia. ‘We don’t know her! She left us, remember? How the hell could she be any use to us now?’

  ‘You might be wrong,’ Vicky said reasonably.

  ‘I’m not wrong. And anyway it’s too late now, Nick’s going to destroy his records. I don’t want Flora hurt even more then she is right now. Can’t you see, it would kill her? I have to get back to my sister. She needs me.’

  Octavia turned away, brushed past Vicky and left her standing there, staring after her.

  75

  I have to get my mind off everything, Octavia told herself. She was glad to be a support to her sister, and desperate to help her through her ordeal but the whole thing was exhausting for her too. She needed to get away from it and think about some of the other problems in her life – after all, they weren’t simply going to disappear because of Flora’s disaster. She still had a business to run.

  Her last conversation with Max echoed in her mind. He was right; she should make her money do some good in the world, and she had to step up to the mark if she was going to make Noble’s a success. She wanted to sort out the problems with the workforce and get the re-design going properly. Lately she’d begun to tire of the whole thing and rather regret that she’d been so hasty about getting involved. It had all seemed such wonderful fun at first, when it was her and Jasmine and Rosie – and, of course, the real creative talent, Iseult. But Jasmine and Rosie and the rest of the gang had melted away lately, not very interested in the realities of running a business when there was hard work to be done. Without the force of Iseult’s personality driving them, they had lost their enthusiasm for the project. There were new parties to go to, more people to meet, more drugs to take. Jasmine was, apparently, going out with Ferdy now, while Rosie was virtually unreachable now that she had become even more hooked on ketamine, spending most of her time lost in a K-hole of oblivion.

  If only Iseult hadn’t been attacked and changed so much, Octavia thought longingly. Then I would know what to do. She’d be here to help me.

  But Iseult didn’t show any signs of returning to her old self. She remained locked away in her Bayswater flat, with only a select few people allowed to see her. Octavia was one of them and went round as often as she could, laden with fruit, muffins, music and magazines, hoping to reawaken her friend’s interest in the outside world.

  Iseult was always happy to see her, though she still remained swathed behind a thick veil now that the bandages were pretty much off. She wore an elegant black velvet patch over her blind eye which gave her a nicely piratical air, and now wore only black, her former vivid greens, yellows and purples banished to the back of her wardrobe.

  ‘Because I’m in mourning, darling, for my poor face. It was only a plain old thing but it was all I had, and I did like it. Far more than I ever realised at the time,’ Iseult would say, smiling that strange twisting leer that looked more agonised than amused, and made the scars of her face buckle in an alarming way. Her beautiful, distinctive speaking voice was changed too, so that she always sounded as though she had just had an anaesthetic at the dentist.

  The strange thing was, Octavia thought, that Iseult seemed quite cheerful. She spoke about her trips to her doctors, consultants and surgeons
, and the forthcoming plastic surgery operations, in tones of huge amusement. She detailed her adventures of walking about town, when she did venture out, with her damaged face and her veil, and the comments of cruel adults and innocent, uncomprehending children, and laughed hugely at all of it.

  But Octavia could not persuade her to come out and resume her old life.

  ‘People will soon get used to you, I think you’re underestimating them,’ Octavia said gently. ‘They love you for who you are.’

  ‘Darling Octavia,’ Iseult said, her smile twisting. ‘Can’t you understand, my whole life has been devoted to appearances? Fashion, image – they’ve been everything to me. I’m still trying to understand how I can go on like this. It’s a terrible struggle. Oh, I know I’m vain and shallow and silly, but that’s how it is. I need time. Please – you won’t rush me, will you?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Octavia said, feeling awful. The last thing she wanted to do was put pressure on her friend. The accident was still very recent, she reminded herself. It was early days.

  One day, as she arrived, she bumped into a familiar figure, dapper in a teal cord jacket and buff-coloured flannels. ‘Gerry!’ she said in astonishment.

  ‘Octavia,’ said Gerry Harbord, a smile playing about his lips, nut-brown eyes sparkling. ‘What a very long time no see. How are you, darling? Keeping shop?’

  ‘I’m fine but … but what on earth are you doing here?’ She could only gape at him. Wasn’t this the man who had famously feuded with Iseult for years?

  He bent towards her conspiratorially and raised his eyebrows towards his bouffant white hair. ‘Darling, when the chips are really down, that’s when we forget old antagonisms and stick together. Talking of which, my love, I’d like to come and see you some time, if I may?’

  ‘Of course.’ She still couldn’t get over the shock of seeing him here. ‘Any time.’

  In the flat, she told Iseult who she had met by the front door. ‘Did you know he was coming?’

  ‘No.’ Iseult laughed. ‘It was rather a turn-up. But he was sweet. He quite touched my heart. Isn’t it odd, the people who stay around – and the people who vanish? It’s never quite whom one expects.’ Then she said carelessly, ‘Have you heard from Roddy recently?’

  Octavia paused, knowing the answer mattered to her very much. ‘No, he’s hugely busy with the new collections and putting the finishing touches to his latest show. It’s very important for him. He has to prove he has more than one season in him.’

  It was the truth, Octavia knew that, but even so … Roddy’s visits had begun to tail off now that Iseult was out of danger and on the long slow road to recovery. He had returned to his high life in Paris and showed little sign of coming back. He had finally got rid of his East End studio as well, evidently unable to face going there again.

  Without Roddy himself to talk to, Iseult pored over his pictures in fashion magazines, followed his appearances at glamorous parties and critiqued any of his designs when they appeared. It was obvious she missed him very much.

  She was quiet while Octavia made them coffee in the tiny kitchen. When they were sitting down, talking together, she said, ‘You know, I’ve been working on our plans for Noble’s. I think you’re going to like them.’

  ‘Wonderful, can I see them? I’m so curious!’

  ‘Not yet, darling. Soon, I promise. But first, I have a favour to ask.’

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘Would your driver take me back to Mabbes? I have a sudden longing to be at home. The builders I had in have finished some of the repairs and I’m desperate to see what they’ve done.’

  ‘Of course!’ Octavia was delighted to hear some enthusiasm again in Iseult’s voice.

  ‘Good. I want to go tomorrow, if that’s all right.’

  ‘I … I can’t come with you,’ Octavia said, regretfully. ‘Flora’s at home, you see, and …’

  ‘Oh, that’s all right, darling, it’s no problem. I’m quite used to being on my own as you well know. Just come and see me when you can, that’s all I ask. One of my sisters is there, I believe, so I shan’t be alone.’

  And then Iseult was gone, back to Mabbes, and there was no chance that she would be coming into Noble’s.

  76

  If there was ever a time to fall in love, Flora thought, this wasn’t it. She knew she was in a delicate emotional and mental state, only just beginning to recover from her ordeal at Otto’s hands and still reeling from the horror of his blackmail and the terrible decision she’d been forced to take.

  But what was she supposed to do about it? She couldn’t stop herself. The feelings were there whether she wanted them or not. They were there and getting stronger. She couldn’t stop thinking about Nick.

  She played and replayed in her mind the moment when he had rescued her from the car: helping her out of the seat, making sure she had her bag, seeing her safely into the helicopter. Since then he had been nothing but concerned for her, showing an instinctive understanding of what she must be going through.

  It wasn’t just that, though. Flora sighed, and twisted on her bed, staring up at the ceiling through unseeing eyes. It was everything about him. He was so beautiful to look at, so full of life and colour with that dark hair and those brown-black eyes under strong brows. He was handsome in a way she craved, as though someone had drawn a picture of a gorgeous Renaissance youth and then coloured it in with strong, vibrant colours. He was alive, he was vivid, and she longed to touch him.

  After everything I’ve been through, I should be off sex for life! But she couldn’t believe how much she craved a kiss from those full, well-defined lips or how she yearned to stroke a finger down the long straight line of his nose. She wanted him to kiss her and wipe out the memory of Otto touching her. She was sure that a kiss from Nick would be a totally different experience from those pallid, unsatisfying probings Otto had inflicted on her.

  More than Nick’s looks, though, it was the humanity in his eyes. He was a good man, she knew that. She’d never been more certain of anything.

  She had begun to dream about him constantly and to think about him all the time. She was sure a therapist would have a lot to say about the tumultuous feelings she was experiencing and relate them to her past, both recent and distant, but that didn’t make any difference. These feelings seemed real and there was nothing she could do about them. After all, did love always come when life was nice and tidy and everything was ready for it? Could you decide someone was not right just because of the moment when you met him?

  She knew that she had fallen a bit in love with Nick Falcon the moment she met him in his office, before she had even married Otto. And now she was somersaulting head over heels for him.

  But how on earth is he ever going to love me back, she thought, agonised, when he knows the truth about me?

  * * *

  Approaching the enormous, imposing shop that took up the entire corner of two streets, Octavia still couldn’t shake off a feeling of amazement and pleasure that the whole place was hers. It was so distinctive and beautiful, with its black-and-white exterior, diamond-patterned windows and impressive brick chimneys. Among its bland, grey neighbours, it stuck out like a wildly eccentric, theatrical beauty, determined to keep her own personality while all about her subsumed theirs.

  She stepped through the front doors below the heraldic shields in brilliant scarlets, azures and golds, and into a sweet-smelling porch, full of flowers. This was Noble’s flower department, and the florist was hurrying about, tying bouquets with string or assembling blooms to make the perfect arrangement. She barely looked up from her work as Octavia passed through the dark-wood and glass internal doors. Now she was in the main ground-floor gallery: scarves, handbags, umbrellas and gloves were for sale here, with the jewellery room, carefully alarmed and with a security door ready to plummet down from the ceiling at the first sign of trouble, sparkling nearby. Octavia wandered through the ground floor, from handbags to stationery then through to perfume and make
-up. Wherever she went, it was the same. People were polite, but they were stiff and, despite the smiles and the courteous ‘hellos’, their eyes were cold and their smiles empty.

  She climbed the grand staircase and went up past fashion and shoes on the first floor, one hand resting on the gleaming wooden balustrade. On the second were more clothes, haberdashery, and the tiny wedding department. On the third, bedding, bath and homewares, on the fourth, rugs and lighting. On the fifth were furniture and art. Then she went up to the final floor, the attic storey that was now the offices and boardroom of Noble’s. She heard a peal of laughter coming from Ethan’s office as she walked down the hall towards it. His assistant must be on her coffee break as her desk was empty and she was nowhere to be seen. Pushing open the door, Octavia saw Ethan sitting behind his desk and Shagi sitting on top of it, her long brown legs swinging as she laughed.

  Their amusement died away as they saw her.

  ‘Oh, hi, Octavia!’ said Shagi brightly. She was as incredibly perfect as ever, her caffe latte skin smooth, dark eyes glittering and lined in black kohl.

  ‘Hi,’ Octavia said, looking at her boyfriend. ‘Ethan, could I see you for a moment, please? Sorry, Shagi, do you mind?’

  ‘Of course not,’ she said, still in that high bright voice. ‘I was just passing and thought I’d look in and see Ethan. He’s planning a super birthday party, really mega-glam.’

  Octavia raised her eyebrows. ‘Are you?’

  Ethan coughed. ‘Well, you know … got to celebrate. Sorry, Shagi, I’ll see you another time, okay?’