‘What was her idea?’
‘For me to meet you like this. We talked it all through this morning. Diana – I’m sorry, your mother – has gone to Marseilles to break the news to your stepfather, and I’m to take you home with me to my apartment. We can get to know each other a bit on the way, and . . . and your mother and Douglas will be along later.’
Stella was still trembling. ‘I want my mother. Where is she?’
‘I just told you – she’s gone to Marseilles to speak to your stepfather. In fact, they’re probably on their way back to Nice right now, so we should head off there ourselves. Come along, Stella.’ He opened the Jaguar’s passenger door for her. ‘Hop in.’
She hesitated. ‘But – I don’t think . . .’
‘I know, I know.’ He gave her a kind smile. ‘You’ve had a shock. You look exactly as your mother did when we bumped into each other. But she’s very glad about it all now. I expect you’ve noticed how happy she’s been of late.’
Stella thought about it. Her mother had seemed especially happy in recent days. She’d sung most of the way on the drive up here this morning; silly songs with ridiculous rhymes.
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘She came on the rollercoaster with me.’
‘Well, there you are then! Don’t worry, Stella. You’ll soon get used to this. Jump in. I want to know everything about you. Your mother says you’re the best girl in the whole wide world.’
‘And she and Douglas are coming to your apartment?’ she asked him as she climbed uncertainly into the passenger seat.
‘Absolutely.’ He got behind the wheel. ‘They might even be there when we arrive, waiting for us outside. Have you been in a sports car before, Stella?’
She shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Then this should be fun. Hold tight – this beats any old roller-coaster, I can promise you.’ He gunned the engine and the sleek Jaguar roared out of the car park, gravel spraying from the rear wheels. A moment later, the car was speeding down the twisting road that led back to the coast.
Impromptu plans were often the best, James reflected as the car nudged 80mph. They left no time for doubting and questioning one’s instincts.
And this one? This one was turning out to be the cleverest he could remember.
Diana took the villa’s stairs two at a time. She’d driven back home like a madwoman and ignored a gendarme’s frantic hand signals to slow down as she raced through Vence. He’d probably got her number but she couldn’t care less.
Now she ran into the master bedroom and frantically pulled out the bottom tray of her jewellery box.
It had to be in here.
Sure enough, hidden beneath a heavy double row of pearls was the scrap of paper James had given her with his address and phone number written on it. She hesitated. Should she simply drive straight there, or try calling him first?
Without making a conscious decision, she grabbed the bedside telephone and dialled zero.
‘Come on, come on,’ she muttered beneath her breath. ‘Answer, damn you.’
At last the operator came on the line.
‘Nice four-six-seven-three, please.’ Diana could hear the tremble in her voice. After a moment she heard the ring tone, a repetitive and somehow rather dismal single beep. It went on for nearly a minute before the operator’s voice returned.
‘There’s no answer, madame,’ she said in English.
Diana slammed down the phone. She was heading back to the stairs when a man’s voice floated up from the hall.
‘Diana? Where are you? What’s going on? You’ve left your car engine running.’
‘DOUGLAS! Thank God you’re here!’ She practically threw herself downstairs and into his arms, clinging to him tightly.
‘Hey, what’s this? What’s going on, Diana?’
‘Oh, Douglas, he’s taken her! He’s got her somewhere!’
‘What? Who’s taken who? I don’t understand.’
‘James! He’s taken Stella! We’ve got to find her, Douglas!’ She pulled away from him. ‘We’ve got to go there right now and—’
He held up his hands. ‘Whoa there, Diana. Slow down. Calm yourself, my dear. I need to know exactly what has happened otherwise I’ll be no use to you.’
He led her into the salon and made her sit down on one of the chaise longues, settling himself beside her.
‘Now, begin from the beginning. Whatever’s happened, you can take a few minutes to explain things calmly. Why do you think James has taken Stella? And when did you first run into him?’
She gulped. ‘A few days ago. He got out of a taxi in the flower-market, right in front of me. I nearly passed out, although to be honest, Douglas, I’ve suspected he was in Nice for some time. You see, I thought I glimpsed him in a cab back in April, but I’d begun to think I was deluded – that I’d imagined it. It turns out he survived being shot down – a complete fluke – and decided he couldn’t face life in a POW camp or any more fighting. So he deserted. He’s spent the last eleven years hiding in Nice. Since meeting him again I’ve been . . . we’ve been . . .’
Douglas put a hand on her shoulder. ‘It’s all right, Diana, we can talk about that part later. Tell me about Stella.’
‘Well, this morning I drove Stella to the riding school and then – I’m so sorry, Douglas – then I went into Nice to meet James.’
If Douglas was wounded by the information, he concealed it. ‘And then?’
‘I was early to the restaurant. I remembered that letter you told me about – the one on the mantelpiece. I had it with me in my bag and I decided to read it while I was waiting. It was from some friends of mine who work in the flower-market: Armand – I’ve told you about him – and a flower-seller called Hélène.’ She paused, miserably.
‘Well? What did it say?’
Diana bowed her head. ‘It said I’d been a complete fool. Not in so many words, but that’s what it meant. James has been telling me he’s a legitimate businessman here in Nice, and I believed him.’ She looked up.
‘It turns out he’s become a gangster, Douglas. He murders people, or has them murdered for him. Everyone’s terrified of him. He runs a protection racket here and he’s about to join the Nice Mafia. He tricked me into giving him money for a so-called business deal but he’s given it straight to them; some kind of joining fee, I think.’
‘I see,’ he said quietly. ‘How much did you give him?’
She told him and he winced. ‘He must be a very persuasive man. You’re nobody’s fool, Diana.’
She looked at him gratefully. ‘Anyway . . . as soon as I’d read the letter, he arrived. Obviously I confronted him and he didn’t bother denying any of it. In fact, Douglas, I don’t think he gave a damn one way or the other what I thought of him. I was finally seeing the real person I married all those years ago. I feel so stupid.’
She clutched her head in her hands. ‘How could I have been so taken in? I never once glimpsed the real James – or if I did, I chose to ignore it. Apparently the locals call him Le Loup Anglais, but I don’t think he’s a bit like a wolf. This morning I felt I was in the presence of a snake – cold and calculating and unfeeling. He’s vile, Douglas.’
He touched her cheek. ‘Don’t be too hard on yourself. You were just a girl when you married him. From what you’ve told me before, you barely knew him. But putting all that to one side, you still haven’t told me why you think our girl is with this man.’
When she had finished describing that afternoon’s events, Douglas sat deep in thought for several minutes.
‘Do you think she went willingly?’ he asked at length.
‘I have no idea. Probably. He could charm the birds from the trees.’
‘What does he look like now? Would she have recognised him, d’you think?’
Diana nodded vigorously. ‘Yes, definitely. He’s hardly changed at all. God knows what she must have thought when she set eyes on him.’
‘Poor kid.’ He stood up. ‘Right, let’s go find her. I’m su
re she’s in no danger. He is her father, after all. He’ll be playing some stupid game or other. Do you know where he lives?’
She got to her feet and handed him the note she had been clutching throughout the conversation. ‘This is his address – and before you ask, Douglas, no, I haven’t been there. In fact,’ she closed her eyes before continuing, ‘in fact, it only happened once. I know that even once is unforgivable, but it’s the truth.’
To her horror she saw his face crumple and tears suddenly drop from his eyes. He made no sound.
‘Oh God, Douglas, I am so, so sorry. Whatever have I done to you?’ She threw her arms around him and held him until she felt him stiffen his shoulders and try to pull away. She released him and he cleared his throat.
‘I’m all right, Diana. Really I am. Will be, anyway.’ He took a large white handkerchief from his breast pocket and blew hard. ‘These things can happen in any marriage, I know that,’ he continued. ‘And anyway, it’s not as if you went off with any Tom, Dick or Harry, is it? He was once your husband.’
She stared at him. ‘You’re incredible, Douglas. I don’t deserve you.’
He ushered her to the door. ‘I don’t know about that. But I’ll tell you one thing. You certainly don’t deserve him. Come on. Let’s go get our girl.’
56
James had bought the second apartment some years earlier. He thought of it as his office; he preferred to do business there rather than in the much larger, more luxurious set of rooms behind the Promenade des Anglais. This was chiefly because of an incident that had taken place there just after the war. A ‘client’ behind with his payments had been summoned to a meeting, and by the end of the interview there was so much blood on an expensive Persian rug, James had had to have it destroyed. But the unmistakable acid aroma of fear had lingered for days and he decided he must separate home and business.
The ‘office’ comprised five smallish rooms – a kitchenette, lounge, two bedrooms and a bathroom. All were simply, even sparsely, furnished. The flat was in a slightly shabby, turn-of-the-century brick-built block not far from the railway station. There was no parking provided, and as the XK120 turned into the narrow street, James kept an eye open for a space. He found one fifty yards from his block, slid the Jaguar into it and switched off the ignition.
‘Are Mummy and Douglas here yet?’
It was the first time Stella had spoken since they reached the outskirts of Nice. James could tell she was still uneasy; his attempts to jolly her along and draw her out had been pretty much blunted by her taciturn responses. He decided she was still in mild shock after being confronted with her long-dead father. He didn’t blame the kid for that, but he didn’t particularly care either. The main thing was he’d got her here, and once she was securely inside the flat, he could make his next move.
‘No, I can’t see them. Don’t worry, they’ll be here soon. Come on, let’s go up.’
Stella obediently got out of the car and walked with her father towards the apartment block. He looked at her covertly as they went. In profile, he could see how much she resembled her mother. If Diana looked like a younger Vivien Leigh, her daughter had something of the rising American actress Elizabeth Taylor about her when she’d been a child star. There was the same, determined jaw that Diana had, and although mother and daughter’s eyes were similarly shaped, Stella’s were the colour of James’s. The nose, too, was his.
But most of her similarity to her father, James decided, lay in her composure and bearing. There was a slight haughtiness about her; an unwillingness to reveal too much of herself or what she was thinking. He approved of that. She was certainly giving nothing away as they climbed the steps to the apartment block’s front doors.
The concierge nodded coldly at them as they walked into the small entrance lobby. It was strange, James thought as he pressed the button for the lift. Nice’s concierges, almost all old, wizened women like this one, were the only people who never seemed remotely afraid of him. Perhaps that was because they’d seen it all: the human tide that endlessly ebbed and flowed past their little cubicles held no surprises any more.
The lift stopped at the fourth floor and James led his daughter to the steel door that opened into his flat. He’d replaced the original wooden one as a basic security precaution. Not that any burglar in his right mind would think of breaking into this place.
Stella was disappointed when she stepped inside. The flat was dreary. A little entrance corridor opened onto the small sitting room, with a cheap sofa and armchairs, and a bare wooden table next to a door leading onto the tiny balcony. There were no books on the single shelf that ran the length of one wall.
Stella gave him a measured look before moving into the kitchenette. There was a knife block with three kitchen knives and three empty slots. The oven was tiny, Baby Belling stencilled on the door, and an ancient fridge hummed loudly in one corner. Stella opened it. It held three brown-paper carrier bags. She peered into them in turn. They contained milk, wine, bread and cheese. Stella closed the door again and went back into the salon, where James was waiting.
‘You don’t live here, do you.’ It was a statement, not a question.
James nodded in agreement. ‘Well observed, Stella. Your mother’s right – you are indeed a clever girl.’
She stared at him for a few moments, sizing him up.
‘They’re not coming, are they? Mummy and Douglas. That was just a story.’
He was impressed. She was old beyond her years, this one. She was as bright as her mother and as wary as himself.
He smiled at her. ‘I can see I can afford to be direct with you, Stella. Yes. You’re quite right; they’re not coming. Not just yet, anyway.’ He motioned for her to sit. She ignored him.
‘Why am I here? Why did you trick me?’
‘Please sit down, Stella. I can explain everything.’
She chose the chair furthest from him.
‘Good girl. Would you like a drink, or something to eat?’
‘No. I want to know what’s happening. If you don’t tell me, I’ll scream and someone will come. I can scream really loudly.’
He gave her a regretful smile. ‘Firstly, Stella, no one will come. Look – the windows are double glazed. The front door is very thick too, but I expect you noticed that.’
‘I did.’
‘Good for you! Secondly, even if someone did hear you screaming, they’d pretend that they hadn’t. There’s been quite a lot of screaming in these rooms here over time, much of it far louder than anything you could manage, I assure you. My neighbours have learned that it’s best not to interfere. In any case, there’s no need to scream. I told you I’d explain things.’
She glared at him. ‘I’m not afraid of you.’
‘And neither do you look as if you are, Stella. Bravo. You’re a chip off the old block.’
She said nothing.
He lit a cigarette and gestured with it towards the kitchenette. ‘I’m going to pour myself a drink. Are you allowed wine at home?’
‘Don’t be stupid. I’m only ten.’
He grinned at that and went to the fridge. When he returned, he held a glass of rosé for himself and one of Vichy water for her. She looked at it suspiciously.
‘Don’t worry,’ he told her. ‘It’s not poisoned. Take it.’
She placed it carefully on the floor by her feet, not taking her eyes off him. He could feel her contempt for him and silently applauded his daughter’s spirit.
‘Are you going to tell me what’s going on or aren’t you?’ she asked. ‘I suppose you feel ever so clever and proud of yourself, tricking a ten year old.’
He shook his head. ‘No, I don’t feel proud of that. But it was necessary, Stella, I’m afraid.’ He paused for a moment, considering how much to tell her.
‘OK, here’s the thing. I owe some rather unpleasant men rather a lot of money. Your mother kindly gave me some to help me – just yesterday, as it happens – but I need quite a bit more.’ He sipped his wi
ne. ‘This morning,’ he continued, ‘your mother was told some rather unfortunate facts about me, and I don’t think she’s going to lend me any more of her money, to be honest. So I decided—’
‘You decided to kidnap me.’
He laughed. ‘Excellent! I wish I’d known about you a long time ago, Stella. I think you and I would make a good team. Perhaps one day we shall.’
She stared out of the window in silence. James took his time, finishing his wine and cigarette before continuing: ‘So, you’re to stay here until your mother, or your stepfather, sees their way clear to lending me what I need. Then you can go home.’ He stroked his chin and gazed at the ceiling, choosing his next words.
‘But I’m afraid you can’t remain in this room, Stella; I don’t want you banging on the windows and waving and making all sorts of fuss. I have a bedroom all ready for you. There isn’t a window, I’m afraid, but I doubt you’ll be there for long. I have a feeling all this will be sorted out very soon. Come along.’
Stella stood. Her eyes glittered like her mother’s had earlier that day, and for the first time that he could remember, James felt disconcerted. There was enough of himself in this child, he realised, to throw him off-balance if he wasn’t careful.
‘I’ll do what you say because I have to,’ she told him evenly. ‘You’re bigger than me. But I hate you. I hate you! You’re nothing like the father I thought I had. I thought my father was a hero. But you’re just a cheat and a liar and a bully. I wish you had died. I wish I’d never set eyes on you. I bet Mummy does, too. You’re a horrible, horrible man.’
He recovered his poise sufficiently to make an ironic bow. ‘All perfectly true, I’m afraid. I can only apologise, Stella, for my failings. Perhaps one day I can convince you that I have some good points too. And now, if you’d just . . .’ He gestured towards a bedroom door that led off from the salon. ‘In there, please.’
She stalked past him and slammed the door behind her. The click of his key in the lock was followed almost at once by muted sobs from within.
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