by Joanna Rees
The oppressive weather suited her mood. She sucked at the straw in the glass of green detox juice and fought down the urge to retch. What was in that God-awful stuff anyway? It tasted like mould.
This was day four of total sobriety and she still didn’t feel any better. In fact, she felt like utter shit. She screwed up the questionnaire and chucked it on to the scuffed floorboards where she kicked it angrily with her bare foot.
What a bloody joke.
The whole philosophy of Peace River Lodge was to rebuild the mind, body and soul. Well, there wasn’t a space on the questionnaire to write that her mind was all over the place, her body was fucked and her soul completely crushed.
She stood up. She hated this bloody place. But more than that, she hated everyone who’d tricked her into coming here.
It was so unfair. And it was all Marcus’s fault. She’d thought he was her friend. Her true friend. Someone who would defend her, no matter what. But he’d turned on her. Just the same as everyone else.
No doubt Paige had paid him off, Savvy thought bitterly, as she pulled her robe tight across her body and started pacing. With her own money and behind Hud’s back. Oh yes, Hud had shown his true colours all right, he’d made it clear how he really felt about her. Because rather than offering any of the support Savvy had needed in her grief, he’d shut her out and treated her like dirt. Well, was it any wonder that she’d gone completely off the rails? What the fuck had everyone expected?
At first, after Elodie had died, most people had been sympathetic about the fact Savvy was constantly drinking herself into oblivion. They’d said her behaviour was understandable, given that she’d lost her twin. Her grief had been to blame. The scene that Savvy had caused at Elodie’s funeral, when she’d screamed hysterically at Luc that it was all his fault, had been quickly brushed over. Martha had bundled her, kicking and spitting, into one of the black limousines and she had been driven away.
But afterwards, when Luc and Hud had just carried on with their business, waltzing off to China as if everything were back to normal, Savvy hadn’t been able to bear it.
Life didn’t just go on. It shouldn’t. It couldn’t. Because everything had changed.
Her life was wrecked. Like a car crash. And anyone who thought otherwise – people like her father and Luc – well, their hearts were made of stone. They weren’t even human.
But Savvy was human. And every beat of her heart had reminded her of just one thing – that Elodie’s kind and loving heart had stopped for ever.
All because of her.
Which was why she’d deliberately embarked on a mission to take as many drugs as she could lay her hands on. She hadn’t cared who she’d done them with, or who’d given them to her. Night after night, she’d gone out partying, drinking until dawn, taking so many pills that her vision would blur and reality would disappear. And it was only in those fragmented moments, between the flashing lights of the nightclub, that respite had come.
Eventually someone – usually Marcus – would take her home and slip her some sleeping pills. But no matter how many pills she took, the same nightmare recurred again and again, as soon as she started to wake up. Elodie falling . . . her broken body . . .
The cycle would have continued unabated. Right up to the end. To when that dark sleep she so yearned for embraced her.
But then someone had sent a series of pictures of her to a showbiz website. They’d showed her emerging from a basement club, clearly unable to stand up, her eyes like black spiders and her torn dress hanging around her emaciated thighs.
Within hours, Paige had been on Savvy’s doorstep with strict instructions from Hud to control the situation at once.
But Paige hadn’t realized how far gone Savvy was. Bringing her back to the White House in Vegas hadn’t been the solution that Paige – and Hud – had clearly assumed it would be.
When Hud had finally shown up and accused her of being a spoilt brat and demanded that she pull herself together, Savvy had caused an almighty public spectacle at La Paris, rampaging through the casino and overturning tables whilst ranting, to anyone who cared to listen, that Hud was evil and Luc a total bastard as well.
The press had been on hand to witness it all. Hud, humiliated and furious, was quick to denounce her. He’d declared both privately and in the papers that as far as he was concerned, both of his daughters were now dead to him.
Given his heart condition – and how recent events had exacerbated it – he’d gone on to announce that Luc Devereaux would be his successor.
Savvy had been holed up in Marcus’s Vegas hotel apartment when she’d seen Hud on TV. She’d thrown a whisky bottle right through the screen.
Then the next day Marcus had announced he’d got a surprise. They were getting out of here, he’d told her. They were off on holiday. He’d cashed the last of his emergency funds and splashed out on a private plane. It was too late to change his mind. They were off on an adventure to Central America. All Savvy had to do was meet him at the plane.
But Marcus had tricked her. She’d got to the private airfield but Marcus hadn’t yet arrived. A steward named Max had shown her to her seat on the private plane to wait.
She’d been high on coke and booze and when Max had asked her if she’d had all her immunisation shots, Savvy had laughed. It hadn’t occurred to her that she’d need them, since she and Marcus were going to a private party in a friend’s beach house. But after listening to Max giving her the low-down on all the tropical diseases she might be exposed to, she’d happily let him give her the injections she needed. She hated spiders and snakes, she’d told him as she sipped her champagne. She’d giggled as she watched the needle slide into her arm.
When Savvy had woken up, in bed here at Peace River Lodge, the blurry face of the same steward had slowly swum into focus.
He’d explained to her where she was: in rehab. And who he really was. Dr Max Savage. And why she was here: to get clean. No matter how long that took.
Savvy had railed at him, screaming out threats. This was kidnap. It was illegal. It was fucking rendition.
But Dr Savage had stayed calm, producing consent forms bearing Savvy’s signature. When had she signed them? She couldn’t remember.
Who was paying for all of this? she’d demanded. Who’d chartered the plane to bring her here? Because now that Savvy knew she’d been tricked, she guessed that Marcus’s claim of generosity was bullshit as well.
A woman called Paige Logan had made the arrangements, she was informed.
Savvy had sworn out loud that she’d kill Paige the second she got out.
But getting out of here was going to be easier said than done. There’d been two other men in the room. Muscular orderlies in white shorts and shirts. They’d stepped towards her as she moved towards the door.
Dr Savage had explained that she’d be staying here with them until she’d overcome her addictions. Until she was well. And she’d better start getting used to the idea. Peace River Lodge was impossible to escape from, he’d told her. It was surrounded by jungle on one side and the sea on the other – twenty-six miles of uninterrupted coastline.
That first interview had ended when she told him she’d cut his throat. She’d tried to fight her way out of the room. He’d had her restrained, then sedated. He had the power to do that . . . and much more.
It wasn’t until last night that they’d finally moved Savvy out of the locked room and here to the bungalow. It was a privilege, the doctor had told her. One that could just as easily be revoked if she failed to behave.
But she’d lost the will to make a break for the coast. Apathy had taken over and the lack of coke and booze had locked her body in a near-permanent cramp. Only cigarettes and mild painkillers – both strictly rationed – were holding her together.
Now she groaned as she heard the swish of the sliding door leading from the bedroom to the veranda.
So this was it, then. This was where the therapy started.
She had no ide
a who they were sending. Probably one of the over-zealous American quacks she’d seen around the place. But when she turned round, the guy dressed in shorts and a scrappy khaki T-shirt and shaking out his umbrella, was nothing like she’d expected. Where was the white coat? Where were the badges showing his medical qualifications? This guy looked like he was qualified to run a beach bar rather than sort out her head.
He leaned the umbrella against the wall then stood and faced her. The first thing Savvy noticed was his eyes. They were pale blue, with dark rings around their irises, like a wolf’s. It was like he was staring right through her. Or, more precisely, inside her.
She felt exposed. Ashamed. He probably knew all about her – her temper tantrums. Her refusal to cooperate . . .
His eyelashes and eyebrows were yellowy-blond, but the thick messed-up hair on his head was a dark, gleaming auburn and his skin a mass of joined-up freckles. She saw now that he was much younger than she’d expected. He was probably only five years or so older than her.
‘So,’ he said, ‘you must be Savannah. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. I’m Jonny Raddoch.’ He spoke with a slight Scottish lilt. ‘But everyone calls me Red,’ he continued. ‘So. How are we doing today?’
We. There wasn’t a we, or an us. Savvy was in this alone.
‘Shit. If you must know,’ Savvy said, folding her arms.
Red glanced down at the scuffed questionnaire on the floor. With a long-suffering sigh he walked across, bent down and picked it up.
‘I know it’s difficult,’ he said.
‘None of it applies,’ she said, staring malevolently at the paper in his hand and not hiding her vicious tone. ‘Because I’m not a fucking junkie, OK?’
Red pulled up a rattan stool and sat down, clipping the questionnaire on to a wooden board. Savvy noticed some scars on his freckled legs and his flip-flops and feet were splashed with mud.
She looked away. Couldn’t they even send a real doctor? she thought. Who was this idiot? So far, everything about his manner annoyed her.
She couldn’t seem to control her temper and as he started speaking, Savvy deliberately tuned out. What had happened to her apartment? she wondered. Her clothes? All the dry cleaning? The twenty grams of coke in the pot on top of the fridge . . . Was nobody looking for her and wondering where she was?
But then she remembered the Vegas hotel, with its pulled-down blinds. Nobody would be looking for her because she’d already shut them all out.
She watched as Red pulled a pen out of the pocket of his T-shirt and clicked the end of it. To Savvy, it sounded like a pistol being cocked.
‘Let’s get started. Help me out here. Just say yes if these statements apply, OK? Number one. My job has been affected by my alcohol or drug use,’ he began.
‘I don’t have a job,’ Savvy said. ‘I’ve told them that already.’
‘OK. How about, I drink or use when I’m alone?’
‘Who fucking doesn’t?’
Red scribbled something down on the form. ‘I have had memory loss after drinking or using? Sometimes I can’t remember what happened the night before?’
Everything was a blur. Savvy couldn’t remember whole weeks, let alone days or hours, of the last few months. But that was because she didn’t want to. Memory loss was a benefit of drinking and using. Didn’t this stupid idiot get that?
‘My sex life has been affected?’
‘Only in a very positive way,’ Savvy shot back. She’d lost count of the number of one-night stands she’d had in the last six months. Lost count . . . or forgotten.
Besides, what business was it of Red’s? Why should she tell him anything?
‘My family has suffered due to my drinking or using?’ he continued.
Silence.
‘I have compromised my morals?’
Silence.
‘I have insomnia or nightmares after drinking or using?’
‘No, my insomnia and nightmares started right here,’ Savvy burst out. ‘Since I stopped. Since you fucking people kidnapped me.’
‘Others have suggested that I might have a problem with alcohol or drugs?’ Red continued, unruffled.
‘Stop it. Shut up. Leave me alone. I want to go home,’ Savvy yelled, standing up and putting her hands over her ears. ‘I want to go home.’
But she no longer knew where home was.
And Red wouldn’t go away. He stood up to face her.
‘Savvy, you’re here because your friends and family love you. They want to help.’
‘No, they don’t,’ Savvy shouted at him. ‘You don’t know anything about my family.’
‘Yes I do. I know quite a lot actually. I know who your father is.’
‘Oh, I get it,’ she railed at him. ‘And you’re probably loving the fact I’m locked up in here and he’s told you to throw away the key.’
‘This isn’t personal, Savannah.’
‘Oh? Isn’t it? It seems pretty personal to me. You’re the one standing in my space, asking me personal questions.’
Red sighed. She could tell she’d annoyed him and that he was struggling to keep his temper.
‘I’m just trying to help you.’
‘Well, I don’t want your fucking help, OK? I don’t need some sanctimonious bastard like you trying to make me apologize for my life. It’s my life. My choices.’ She thumped her palm on her chest.
‘OK,’ he said slowly, grimacing. ‘So I guess what they told me about you was right.’ He rubbed his eyebrow. ‘And to think I volunteered for you.’ He shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid. ‘I thought we might bond because we’re both British. But I hadn’t figured out that you’re just . . .’
He stopped and shook his head.
‘Just what?’ Savvy snapped.
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Yes it does. Come on. Enlighten me, doctor.’
‘I’m not a doctor.’
‘Evidently. Come on, spit it out. What am I then? Since you think you already know me?’
He stared at her, his face dull with disgust. ‘You’re just another conceited, spoilt, rich princess who thinks the world owes her.’
‘FUCK OFF!’ she shouted, pointing at the door.
‘OK, so you want to play it that way, fine. I’ve got plenty of people in here who need my help, Savannah. People with real problems.’
Without saying any more, he took the questionnaire off his clipboard and dropped it on the floor by her feet, as if it – she – were dirt.
Then he turned and left.
Savvy leaned down, picked up the questionnaire and screwed it into a ball, hurling it as hard as she could after him.
Then she ran into the bedroom and flung herself face down on the bed. Along with the drumming of the rain, she heard the tree frogs and weird sounds of the jungle in the distance and the water falling on to the porch in metronomic drips.
She put her face into the pillow and screamed as loudly as she could.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lois stood at the top of the red and gold ornamental pagoda in Jai Shijai’s garden and sighed happily, relishing the chance to reflect on the last, sumptuous twenty-four hours and the even more exciting ones to come.
Last night she’d been invited to dine on the kitchen terrace with Angela Ho, who seemed to be the chief housekeeper and fixer around here, and two other guests who’d come to play poker – an investment maverick, also from the US, called Bill Andies and his friend, an art dealer from Holland, Pieter Von Triers. They’d made a strange foursome, but the conversation had been interesting and, if nothing else, she had secured two future visitors for the Enzo Vegas.
Lois had gone up early to her rooms, unable to stop herself from marvelling at the incredible suite she’d been given, with its enormous bed swathed in pink silk sheets. She hadn’t expected to sleep at all but she’d drifted off almost immediately, no doubt due to the fragrant jasmine blossoms outside her window.
Well rested, she was ke
en to check out the layout of the house and the island. On the way to the pagoda, Kai, an affable young man who seemed to have been assigned to her as some kind of personal servant, had taken her through the enormous kitchens at her request. Teams of chefs had been busily hacking up two giant blue marlin that had just been caught, and perfectly arranging edible exotic flowers and carved pieces of fruit on silver trays.
Lois had been in the kitchens at the Enzo Vegas plenty of times before, but she’d never seen chefs so frenetic or skilled as the ones here. She couldn’t help feeling excited about the banquet lunch she was soon to enjoy in such idyllic surroundings. Roberto had been right to urge her to come here. This certainly was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
From up here on the pagoda’s balcony, Lois could see that behind the palace was a hill covered in tropical trees, with a shiny stream weaving a lazy path between them. All around, ornate gardens with well-tended flowers and shrubs were divided into different brightly coloured sections. A wooden bridge rose in a high arch over a lake full of ornamental fish. It looked like it had been here for centuries, but it was all new.
Around the island, the water was an enticing deep aquamarine blue. She was about to turn away when something caught her eye. Behind the far trees, almost hidden from view, was the mast of a sleek wooden yacht, mooring up at a jetty. She moved to get a better view. The yacht was beautiful – its smooth lines elegant and neat. Did it belong to one of the guests? she wondered. Or was this yet another of Jai Shijai’s expensive toys?
Lois shielded her eyes as a man appeared on deck. He was wearing a pair of blue-and-orange patterned shorts and it was hard to tell how old he was. There was something about him that looked young, like a teenager almost. Especially now as he hopped on top of the cabin and stretched his arms out wide to dive. With incredible agility he somersaulted overboard and landed in the water with barely a splash. A distant exuberant whoop reached her on the breeze.