by Lulu Taylor
She looked over at Max as he talked quietly with Flora. She was drawn to him with a force more powerful than she’d known before. It wasn’t the teenage lust she’d shared with Ferdy, or the overwhelming sexual attraction she’d felt for Ethan. This was about the man himself.
Oh, my goodness. So it’s him.
* * *
That night, for the first time in ages, the sisters climbed into one bed, snuggling together under the sheets, blankets and old-fashioned pink satin feather-filled eiderdown. They had had a delicious dinner with Max, who had told them silly stories that made them laugh and forget their worries. Then it was an early night – a hot bath, pyjamas, and now these crisp, clean sheets.
‘Didn’t I tell you how perfect it is?’ Octavia asked, smiling.
Flora nodded. ‘It’s real bliss. I love the way we’re so far from everything here. I feel properly safe. For the first time in ages.’
Octavia reached out and took her sister’s hand. ‘I’m glad. Goodness, we’re a pair, aren’t we? What a mess we’ve made of things!’
‘Are you very upset about Ethan?’ Flora asked softly.
‘Well …’ Octavia rolled on to her back and stared up at the ceiling. ‘Of course I’m upset. I thought I loved him once. But, if I’m honest, I suppose I stopped loving him a while ago. I guessed he wasn’t the one for me. Iseult said so too in her last letter, and I knew she was right. I already knew, before the letter, but it crystallised it for me. The money …’ She turned to look Flora in the eye. ‘He shouldn’t have stolen from me and the others. But sometimes I think it would be better if we didn’t have any at all. Look at what it’s done to us. We never would have attracted such awful men without it. But if we hadn’t been so sheltered from the world we would have been able to judge them better.’
‘Tavy …’ Flora said tentatively. ‘I sense that you feel something for Max … am I wrong?’
There was a pause, and then Octavia said seriously, ‘I think he’s amazing – because he plainly is. You know, he wasn’t bowled over by me when we met – quite the opposite. He had no reason to like or respect me, but now he’s changed his mind. You’ve no idea how good and strong that makes me feel. As though I have something to recommend me beyond my money and my clothes and all the trappings.’
‘You know you do,’ Flora insisted. ‘You’re clever and spirited and determined.’
Octavia sighed. ‘Really? I hope so.’
‘Tavy, he’d be crazy not to adore you. If you want him to?’
Octavia turned to her sister and gazed into her wide blue eyes. ‘You know … I have a feeling you’re mad about Nick.’
‘Oh, dear.’ Flora blushed scarlet and began to fiddle with the edge of the eiderdown. ‘Is it very obvious?’
‘Only to me. He is unbelievably nice and extremely gorgeous. And he’s a real hero, a proper one this time.’ Octavia smiled mischievously. ‘It’s no wonder you’ve fallen for him.’
‘It’s probably just a crush,’ Flora said hastily. ‘It’s a terrible time to fall in love.’
‘Maybe it’s just the right time. You’re due something wonderful. Why shouldn’t you forget Otto as soon as you possibly can, and begin to love someone?’
‘But it will only mean more heartbreak if he doesn’t love me back!’
‘I don’t see how he couldn’t.’
‘You’re biased!’
‘Yes, I am.’
Flora gazed at her sister. ‘I’m so glad I have you, Tavy. We’re the only family we’ve got, aren’t we?’
Octavia nodded. ‘We’re all we need.’
81
Amanda was eating her breakfast when the phone rang.
Gerry’s voice came down the line without preamble. ‘I take it you’ve seen the news?’
‘Not yet. The paper’s on the mat, I think.’ She wandered out to the hall with the phone, picked up the paper and turned it over. She gasped.
‘Yes, darling,’ Gerry said, triumph in every note. ‘Brody’s done for.’
She scanned it quickly. The headline halfway down read: Top businessman on the run following fraud allegations, and the article below went on to outline the bare bones of the situation. Amanda read aloud: ‘It’s unknown at this point how this will affect the fortune of Noble’s, the hundred-and-fifty-year-old emporium purchased by Brody’s Butterfly Limited, a company he co-owned with heiress Octavia Beaufort. Beaufort was not available for comment.’
Gerry said, ‘We were right, he was up to his tricks. Can you believe that men like him are allowed to operate the way they are?’
‘He’s a slippery bugger,’ said Amanda. She pushed her short dark hair behind her ears as she wandered back to the breakfast table. ‘I just hope this isn’t going to destroy the old place.’
‘But Octavia’s fabulously rich. I shouldn’t think he made a dent in that.’
‘We don’t know how much he’s taken, or how he’s done it. She might be down to her last few mill and decide to let the shop go. Or he might have compromised the business so badly it can’t go on.’ Amanda bit her lip. ‘I’m glad Fa didn’t live to see this. It’s a bloody disaster.’
‘Well, you wanted to get back at her,’ Gerry said lightly, ‘and you have. Congratulations.’
Amanda sat down at the table and stared again at the headline. ‘We’ve done her a favour. God knows how long he’d have stayed there, milking them all dry, before he did a bunk or whatever it was he planned.’
‘Just imagine,’ said Gerry, clearly enjoying the mental image, ‘he’s probably sitting in a Holiday Inn as we speak, wondering how he’s going to get out of the country.’
‘That’s what I don’t understand – how did he ever think he could get away with it? The thing with all these schemes, magicking money out of nowhere and spending it, is that one day they get found out. It’s inevitable.’
Gerry said, ‘It must be like a drug habit. He just couldn’t stop himself. Well, no doubt he’ll be caught soon. I wonder how little Octavia is feeling today!’
‘Yes.’ Amanda looked out of the window at the bright winter sunshine. ‘I wonder.’
* * *
Vicky sat at her computer screen, contemplating what kind of arrangements the twins might want her to make for Christmas this year. Usually they were away for the holiday, sometimes on a hot beach or else in an Alpine chalet surrounded by snow. Last year, Flora had been in Germany and Octavia had been whisked away to Thailand by Ethan for one of their no-expense-spared luxury breaks, spending time in a fabulous decked house with a vast private beach. Now the girls were both in Scotland. They’d been there a week and there was no talk of their coming home yet.
I think it’s the right thing for them, thought Vicky, clicking on to the Fortnum & Mason website to start looking at Christmas hampers to give as gifts to the staff. They need to get away from all the stress round here. They’d both been through extraordinary events after all.
Her desk telephone went and she picked it up, saying crisply, ‘Vicky Staunton.’
‘Hi, Vicky, it’s Nick.’
‘Hi, Nick, how are you?’
‘Good, I’m good. Listen, I thought I’d better let you know that the police have picked up Brody in Dover. He was trying to leave the country by ferry, slipping on as a foot passenger. I’ve tried to call Octavia but her phone is off or hasn’t got reception. Do you have the number of this joint in Scotland where she and Flora are staying?’
‘Sure.’ Vicky opened her address book and looked out Max Northam’s details. ‘Here you are.’ She dictated the number to him. ‘I’m so pleased they’ve got that piece of shit.’
‘Yeah. It’s going to be a long and arduous process, though. This is just the beginning. See ya later, Vicky.’
‘Yeah, see you.’ She rang off and then looked down at the numbers she had for Max, carefully written in the address book in her neat hand. As she stared, Vicky frowned. A thought came into her mind and she froze. Then she got up and began to walk about the room, thin
king hard. A few minutes later, she sat down and prepared to make a call.
The news that Ethan Brody had been picked up by the police came as huge relief to both Octavia and Flora. One of the sources of tension that was making them so stressed was partially resolved. Ethan was now in custody. When Nick called, he told Octavia that there would be an initial hearing and then a long preparation period while the lawyers gathered their evidence for the prosecution and the case for the defence. ‘This won’t be over any time soon,’ he warned, ‘but you can make a start.’
‘What about Butterfly and Noble’s?’
‘You better talk to a business advisor about that,’ Nick said, ‘it’s not my area of expertise. Hey, is Flora there? Can I talk to her?’
Octavia passed the phone to her eager, bright-eyed sister, knowing that Nick had been impatient to speak to her all along. She heard Flora say, ‘Hi, Nick,’ in soft tones that were full of romantic longing, even if she wasn’t aware of it herself. Octavia smiled and left her to it, going off to think about Ethan and everything that had happened.
Both the girls were enjoying relaxing at Glachach: some of the strain of the past few weeks began to lift. They were sleeping better, eating well and going for long walks together across the cold hills, well wrapped up in fleeces and stout boots. They were talking properly for the first time in a long while, and at last Flora was able to confide some of the things that Otto had done to her, although she could only refer to them obliquely. Octavia was almost too horrified and outraged to listen, but she managed to cap her own emotion and let Flora tell whatever she needed to tell, without interruption. Each discussion left them happier and more at peace.
The only thing that Flora couldn’t tell her sister was that she still yearned to find her mother. Now more than ever. But Octavia had made her own feelings on the subject plain and there was no way that Flora would go against her wishes.
Perhaps when the whole situation with Ethan and the court case was resolved, it might be the time to raise the issue again. But that would be a long way into the future, she knew. Until then, she’d have to keep her longing to herself.
82
Iseult’s funeral was held at the small village church near Mabbes. She was buried in the graveyard there, not far from a honeysuckle hedge and the cool spreading branches of a yew tree.
Octavia left Glachach to go to the service. It was immediate family only attending, along with Iseult’s closest friends. Her wide circle of work colleagues, acquaintances and admirers would be invited to a big memorial service done Iseult-style, with lots of lavish touches, fun and laughter. The funeral was more solemn and heart-wrenching, though Iseult’s love of drama had not been forgotten. The coffin came into church topped by a glorious dome of cream roses, at least forty fresh blooms, and her favourite pair of lime green python-skin platforms. Octavia knew that inside the coffin, Iseult was wearing the fabulous shoes designed by Roddy that she had once declared she wanted to be buried in. Now she would wear them for ever.
Roddy stood by Octavia in the second row from the front, subdued in a black Yves St Laurent suit and black tie. He was shaking constantly throughout the ceremony and his face was thinner than usual. He didn’t look at all well, in Octavia’s opinion, and she held tight to his hand all the way through the service.
Elaine read Donne’s ‘Death, where is thy sting?’ in beautiful ringing tones, and Octavia couldn’t help weeping. Iseult’s other sister, Ettare, gave an address that perfectly captured Iseult’s personality and why they would miss her so much. ‘She left us far too soon,’ Ettare said towards the end, ‘I’m sure there was so much more we had to learn from her, not least how to dress as magnificently as she did.’ Ettare looked over at Roddy. ‘She loved fashion and she loved Roddy with all her heart. Those two things made her happiest.’
Octavia felt his hand shudder under hers. When she looked at him, he was pale, the tears running down his cheeks.
He wasn’t able to witness the burial itself. As they prepared to put Iseult’s coffin into the deep hole that had been dug for it, Roddy went away to stand by the honeysuckle hedge, staring out over the cold Somerset landscape, drawing hard on a cigarette. Octavia stood next to Elaine. Opposite them on the other side of the grave was a hard-faced old lady with a heavily lined face, a turned-down mouth, and steel-coloured grey hair. She wore a plain black coat and supported herself with a walking stick.
‘Who’s that?’ whispered Octavia to Elaine, who was magnificently dressed in a vintage black suit and who still reminded her eerily of Iseult.
‘Oh, that’s our mother. She wasn’t going to come but Ettare persuaded her.’
Octavia stared over at the old woman and a wave of intense hatred passed through her. It was so strong that for a moment she thought she might fall over, She clutched at Elaine for support.
‘Are you all right?’ Elaine asked anxiously.
‘Yes … I’m fine.’ Octavia couldn’t quite explain how she felt, but it was as though she wanted to rush over to Iseult’s mother and scream at her, asking how she could hurt her daughter the way she had. The impulse made her heart race and her breathing quicken. It was some time before she was calm again.
At the wake at Mabbes she tried to talk to Roddy, but he was glassy-eyed and strange, staring about him in a nervous way.
‘Roddy, what’s wrong?’
‘Dunno. Dunno. I … feel like … she’s here. Like she’s round the next corner, you know?’ He was ashen as he dragged compulsively on a cigarette. ‘Christ, I’ve got to get out of here.’
A few minutes later, pleading an engagement in Paris, Roddy headed off to where his car was waiting for him. He hadn’t said goodbye to Octavia. He obviously couldn’t wait to leave, but Octavia felt that whatever or whoever it was he was trying to escape was going with him on that plane to Paris.
She said goodbye to Elaine.
‘Don’t forget us, keep in touch,’ said Iseult’s sister, kissing her. ‘Are you going back to London?’
‘Oh, no,’ Octavia said, ‘I’m going home. I mean … I’m going to Scotland, where I’m staying.’
And then she left.
83
Flora stayed at Glachach on her own while Octavia went to the funeral, with only Hilda and Godfrey for company – not that she minded. It was only a few days until Otto’s deadline was up. After that, surely, she’d be free of him and able to move on. Up here at Glachach she could go on long wanderings, dreaming of her future and conjuring up Nick’s face, indulging in happy fantasies.
It was a bitter day outside as she sat in the breakfast room, enjoying Hilda’s hot porridge with Scottish heather honey and toasting her feet by the fire. The house seemed to have an endless supply of cosy socks and blankets so that whenever she was chilly, there was something to snuggle under.
She was reading a novel she’d picked up in the sitting room and sipping coffee when Hilda came in.
‘I’ve just had a call from the boss,’ the housekeeper said, looking surprised. ‘He’s on his way up here. I wasnae expecting him so I’m going to have to send Godfrey out for some extra supplies. He’s bringing your cousin too, apparently, and someone called Mr Falcon.’
‘Vicky? And Nick … Oh!’ Nervousness flickered alongside pleasure. Why on earth were Vicky and Nick coming here? Did that mean there was bad news? Had Otto decided he couldn’t wait any longer and revealed his cache of material to the world? She knew that formal negotiations went through the lawyers’ office but when it came to his truly dirty work, Otto communicated directly with Nick. Flora put down her coffee cup, suddenly feeling she didn’t want anything more.
‘They’ll be here quite soon, I think,’ Hilda said, turning to go back to the kitchen. ‘I do wish he’d let me know more in advance … I hate it when he springs these surprises on me!’
Flora went up to her room and brushed her hair. She could see from her reflection that her eyes looked frightened. There must be some nasty shock in store or else why hadn’t they
called her? She changed into a pale blue silk shirt printed with tiny stars and pulled on a lavender ballet cardigan, wrapping the ties loosely at the side of her waist in a looping bow. Her jeans were fine. She dumped her thick socks and put on some tan leather boots. As she was applying some lip gloss, she heard the thwuck-thwuck-thwuck of the approaching helicopter and hurried downstairs, picking up a jacket as she went and letting herself out of the back door, passing Hilda who was rushing about preparing more lunch.
The cherry-red Gazelle came quickly over the trees towards the open field and then began its descent. Flora felt her hair whipped back hard from her face. The noise was almost overwhelming after the usual silence. She could see Max in the pilot seat, in dark glasses and headphones, and Vicky next to him. Nick must be in the back. She tried not to feel nervous as the helicopter came in to land, touching down with a slight bump. The engine began to die away and the propellers slowed. The doors opened and Nick got out first, protected from the cold by a black sheepskin jacket. Her stomach jittered; no matter what news he brought, it was wonderful to see him.
When Nick had climbed down, he turned and put his hand up to the craft to help someone else down. A slender black-gloved hand took it, held it tight, and a dark head with streaks of grey appeared. The next moment a woman had emerged from the helicopter. She was wearing a smart long coat in plum-coloured wool, with a black shawl wrapped tightly about her shoulders. She began to walk towards the house, still holding on to Nick as she crossed the rough ground. Behind them, Max and Vicky were emerging.
Who’s that? wondered Flora, and frowned as she watched the woman coming towards them. She was in her fifties perhaps and there was something about the face that was familiar, as if she had known it once, a long time ago when it looked different. But the eyes seemed to have remained the same … where did she know them from?