by Lucy Gordon;Sarah Morgan;Robyn Donald;Lucy Monroe;Lee Wilkinson;Kate Walker
‘All right, all right,’ I said. ‘Daddy was a millionaire, and I was brought up in the lap of luxury. But we fell on hard times.’
He surveyed my wryly. ‘So you’re not going to reveal anything?’
‘Nope. I told you, the less you know about me the better. I have no past, no life outside this moment.’
‘Well, you can’t blame me for trying to guess.’
‘Don’t waste the effort. Whatever you’re thinking about me is wrong.’
‘You don’t know what I’m thinking about you.’
‘Maybe not. But whatever it is, it’s wrong. I’m not like—what you think.’
‘I think you’re one crazy lady.’
‘OK, you’ve got that bit right,’ I conceded.
‘And I’ll get the rest right too,’ he said in a teasing voice. ‘Because I want to know all about you. And I’m going to.’
I shrugged. ‘If you think you can.’
Inside, I was vowing that there were things about my life that he would never know—not if I could prevent it.
‘Woman of mystery, eh?’
‘The less you can find out, the less others can find out,’ I said. ‘And that’s how you need it. Now, why don’t you tell me about myself? My official self, that is. What’s our story?’
His eyes gleamed. ‘It’s no use changing the subject.’
‘Yes, it is,’ I said at once. ‘Changing the subject is the best diversionary tactic ever created, and, considering how often you’ve used it yourself, you must know that.’
‘How do you know I use it myself?’
‘Because you’re up to every trick.’
‘How do you know I’m up to every trick?’
‘Are you saying that Bully Jack isn’t?’
‘Will you leave Bully Jack out of this? He doesn’t exist. He’s a fantasy figure that the PR boys have invented. He’s good for the company image, but that’s all.’
‘Do you mean,’ I asked indignantly, ‘that you don’t crush everyone beneath your feet? That you don’t smash rivals with a ruthless mailed fist?’
He made a wry, apologetic face. ‘Sorry.’
‘Well, I was never so disappointed!’
He smiled and I caught my breath.
‘Are you really?’ he said.
And suddenly I didn’t know what to say.
Chapter Five
Della’s story
SUDDENLY one corner of Jack’s mouth quirked in a crooked smile.
‘What?’ I challenged.
‘Do you realise we’ve known each other less than twenty-four hours?’
‘I don’t believe it. But, yes, it’s true. It was only last night that we met, outside the casino. What were you doing there all alone?’
‘Escaping. We’d all been out together, but I wanted some time to myself. So I changed my cufflinks and got away while they weren’t looking.’
‘You changed your cufflinks?’ I echoed, wondering if I’d heard right.
‘Sure. You noticed them, remember? You said the silver plate was wearing off.’
‘Well, they looked really odd—so cheap and tacky.’
‘That’s why I wore them. They belonged to Grandpa Nick, and he always swore that they brought him luck. I suppose they did, in a kind of way. He started the family firm.’
‘He founded the great Bullen empire?’
‘Lord, no! He wasn’t into founding empires. He enjoyed laughing too much. He was a wicked old so-and-so. ’
He gave a reminiscent grin that said everything about his love for his grandfather. It made me like him enormously. And when I say like I mean like. This was nothing to do with the sensations that had been giving me such a hard time almost since the very moment I’d met Jack. It was a warm, friendly feeling, as if I really knew him and we were part of the same family.
And in a sense we were—the family of people who adored their grandfathers—because I felt the same about mine.
‘All he had was a small grocery shop,’ Jack resumed. ‘My father went to work for him and then shunted him aside. Grandpa went into early retirement and, since my mother was dead, I got to spend a lot of time with him. He became my favourite person, and I think I was his, even more than his son. He admired my father’s abilities, but he was scared of him. I was a bit nervous myself.’
He fell silent while the waiter brought the next course and the next wine. When we were alone again I said, ‘Go on. Don’t stop there.’
‘Grandpa Nick and I were like a couple of kids, fooling around together. He never really grew up. I wish I could describe him properly.’
‘You don’t need to,’ I said. ‘He sounds exactly like mine.’
‘Really? Tell me about him?’
‘He’s never grown up either. Just like you said. Grandad has a child’s ability to see the world as he wants it to be, and he’s a great spinner of tales. When I was a little girl I thought it was wonderful, having someone who could dress the whole world up in glitter. I was furious when I discovered that other people call it lying, because it isn’t. It’s just fantasising, and when you’re used to it, it’s easy to sort out the truth.’
‘What did your parents say about his fantasies?’
‘I barely remember them. They died when I was two, and Grandad raised me.’
‘All alone? I mean, you didn’t have a grandmother?’
‘No, she was dead too. It was just him and me.’
I laughed suddenly, because things were coming back to me. Nice things that made me happy to remember.
‘This is what I mean about his stories. According to Grandad, a posse of social workers descended on him, trying to wrench me from his arms, and he beat them off at the door. Actually, his sister told me that he was visited by one friendly, understanding social worker, who had far too much on her plate and was relieved to mark this case “Solved”. When Grandad told her he could manage perfectly well she couldn’t get out of there fast enough.’
‘Did you have many other relatives?’
‘Loads. I was too young to realise why my parents had vanished, and I remember the family getting together a lot, and people crying. Grandad cried more than anyone, but he also cuddled me. Sometimes he cuddled and cried at the same time. We had a wonderful life together. We loved each other and we laughed a lot, and we were happy.’
I stopped because I was suddenly flooded with emotion as I thought of Grandad, how much I loved him and how wretched he was right now. It seemed terrible to be sitting here enjoying the high life while he—
‘What is it?’ Jack asked me.
‘Nothing,’ I said hastily.
‘You’re crying.’
‘I’m not.’
I knew he wasn’t fooled, but mercifully he didn’t press it. His manner simply became more gentle.
‘You love him very much, don’t you?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ I said, blowing my nose. ‘You said you and Grandpa Nick were like a couple of kids, and that’s how it is with Grandad and me. He looks after me, I look after him.’
‘And it’s been that way for a long time, hasn’t it?’ he asked. ‘Since you were—what? Ten?’
‘More like six,’ I said.
‘Me too. I can’t claim as young as six, but I can remember helping Nick out with the books at the store, because he’d promised Dad he’d have them done by next day and he hadn’t even started them. He kept putting them off because he was hopeless at figures. I could manage figures OK. I don’t mean I was brilliant, but my mind worked that way. His didn’t. He thought it was rocket science. So I did the books, which didn’t leave me any time for my homework. So he came up to the school next day and gave them a sob story to get me off. I didn’t know where to look. I was so sure they’d see through him. But they didn’t. He did it so well.’
‘Oh, yes,’ I said, remembering my childhood. ‘He did it well.’
Now I really liked Jack. Having daft grandfathers, so alike that they might have been twins, was a true bond.
‘Nick was full of silly jokes and superstitions,’ Jack resumed. ‘He believed in lucky charms, and he had a dozen of them, all supposed to work for something different. The most important were the cufflinks. He was wearing them when he proposed to the most wonderful woman in the world, even though he reckoned he had no chance. But he was wrong. She said yes. So he decided they must be lucky, and he treasured them always. It meant a lot that he gave them to me. We both knew Dad wouldn’t have understood.’
‘Do they work?’ I asked.
‘Often enough to be hair-raising. Last night I went to the casino twice, the first time wearing a pair of my own.’
‘Solid gold?’
‘Please!’ he said in a scandalised voice. ‘Bully Jack doesn’t waste his time on gold. Solid platinum.’
I nodded sagely. ‘Twice the price.’
‘Right. Anyway I lost, which is what you expect in a casino. Then later I went back a second time, I was wearing Nick’s “lucky” links, and won ten grand.’
‘Aha! That’s how come you can afford me!’
He surveyed me wryly. ‘We passed ten grand about eleven-thirty this morning. And we haven’t even started on jewellery yet.’
‘Your grandpa sounds great. I can understand why you liked him so much.’
‘I loved him. Mind you, I blame him for everything. If he hadn’t started that store my Dad couldn’t have built it up into a chain and then left the lot to me. It was made very clear that I had to become a tycoon—whether I wanted it or not.’
‘And you expect me to believe that you didn’t?’
‘I wanted to be a vet. But the trouble with money is that if you have it you find that more keeps sticking to you, like mud. And people depend on you—the workforce, shareholders, your sister. You dream about getting out from under, but how can you when it’s going to affect them?’
‘I suppose we all dream of getting out from under,’ I mused. ‘What would your version be? Becoming a vet at last?’
‘No, it’s too late for that. I’d just like to get away and be a hobo of the waterways. I’d have a barge, and a great, stupid dog. Or maybe I’d be really extravagant and have two.’
‘Just you and the dogs?’
‘Probably. There aren’t too many people you could ask to spend their lives like that.’
‘Oh, this is to be a lifetime thing?’
‘You bet. The whole point is to be completely free of all the heavy stuff—obligations, responsibilities, and above all people’s expectations.’
I’m not sure if he knew it, but he gave a little sigh as he said the last words, and it told me a great deal.
‘That’s where the shoe really pinches?’
‘And how!’ he said with feeling.
‘Hence the dog?’
‘Dogs. At least three. I’ve just decided. Dogs have the right idea. They don’t expect anything from you except love and care. They aren’t trying to talk you into a bad investment, or get you drunk, hoping to muddle you into something you’ll regret. They don’t pay you daft compliments in an attempt to seduce you, because you’re rich and they want to get their hands on the goodies. And above all they aren’t trying to badger you into a marriage that would suit them.’
His voice got a little ragged on the last words.
‘Are you really that modest?’ I asked. ‘Or is it false modesty?’
‘What is?’
‘Your assumption that the women who seduce you are only after your money.’
Personally, I could think of a million other good reasons. Well, one anyway.
‘I only said they try to seduce me,’ he pointed out.
‘Of course. And you say, “Get thee behind me, Satan.” ’
‘Never mind that,’ he said hastily. ‘We’ve got distracted. And I’d like to make it clear that when I mentioned money I wasn’t accusing you. If there’s one lady in the world who isn’t trying to fleece me, it’s you.’
‘Well, I don’t have to fleece you, do I?’ I pointed out. ‘You’re spending a fortune on me without giving me the trouble of seducing you—always assuming that I could.’
‘I’m not answering that. You don’t need me to answer that.’
I just smiled.
‘And,’ he pointed out, ‘always assuming that you’d want to.’
‘And I’m not answering that,’ I told him. ‘You think I came down in the last shower?’
‘I guess neither of us did,’ he replied, with meaning.
After that we fell silent for a while, both of us thinking over what we’d just said, what we’d left unsaid, and what we both understood.
‘I’m only saying,’ I resumed at last, ‘that I could be all kinds of gold-digger, just biding my time, waiting to ask for more.’
‘And last night? Covering me with bruises?’
‘I didn’t know who you were.’
‘A true gold-digger would have known who I was. You have no idea about these women, Della. They have filing systems, filled with photographs of men, plus full details of every penny they possess. They know more about my assets than I do. And you’re not like that. I know you.’
‘You don’t know me.’
‘I do.’
‘Don’t.’
‘Do.’
The waiter appeared again and we fell silent, trying not to laugh.
When the soufflé had been served, with a different wine, he returned to the subject.
‘If I assume most women are fortune hunters it’s because those are the kind I tend to meet. Maybe some of them aren’t, but it gets hard to tell the difference. Women have come to feel almost unreal to me. In fact, so do most things.’
I sipped from my glass, and the wine felt like heaven. Seeing the look on my face, he refilled the glass.
‘Of course,’ he added, a tad too casually, ‘there is one thing that could give me cause for suspicion about you, and that’s the fact that you’re so secretive about yourself. Now if you could just come up with a few personal details I could stop worrying…’
‘Too late!’ I told him, laughing. ‘You should have played that card about five minutes ago. You’ve missed the trick now.’
‘I was afraid of that,’ he said. ‘If this were a boardroom I’d have known exactly when to play it. But sitting here with you, like this—I’m confused.’
‘Good,’ I told him. ‘I prefer that.’
‘I’m not going to win a single round with you, am I?’
I shook my head.
‘I know it’s hard to believe—’ he sighed ‘—but when I’m out of the boardroom all my confidence deserts me, and then I need help.’
He gave me a pathetic smile that would have knocked me out if I hadn’t been getting thoroughly suspicious.
I’ll be honest. It knocked me out anyway. This man could get to you even when you knew he was up to every trick.
‘Don’t—you—dare,’ I breathed slowly. ‘Don’t you dare sit there and play for sympathy. Do I look stupid?’
‘You look good enough to eat,’ he said shamelessly.
‘I’m warning you, Jack. Do not ask me to feel sorry for you. And take that penitent look off your face, because that doesn’t fool me either.’
He gave his brilliant grin.
‘It was worth a try,’ he said. ‘But perhaps I should have known better. You see through me. That’s the nicest thing about you.’ He added in a considering tone, ‘Well—almost the nicest.’
He waited for me to pick up on his last words. Our eyes met—his querying, mine telling him he could wait for ever. He backed down first.
‘Touché,’ he said, raising his glass to me.
We understood each other perfectly.
‘Tell me about Bully Jack,’ I said.
He groaned. ‘Not you too. I told you, he’s an invention. He gives my PR department something to do, and that’s about all. OK, a reputation for ruthlessness can sometimes be useful. And Grace fosters it. She has actually given newspaper interviews, pain
ting Bully Jack in lurid colours.’
‘Why does Grace have such a hold over you?’
‘Because she looked after me when our father died. I was fifteen. He did a very unfair thing, leaving me everything and her nothing. I put it right as soon as I could, so justice has been done if we’re only talking about money. But I’ve swallowed up her life, and it’s a bit late for her to reclaim it now.’
‘But you must be in your thirties,’ I protested. ‘So she could have reclaimed her life at least ten years ago.’
‘Well,’ he said vaguely, ‘she felt she should go on looking after me. And of course I’m grateful.’
In my opinion Grace had become domineering and power-hungry, playing on his feelings of guilt. I didn’t think he’d swallowed up her life, but I could see her swallowing his.
I didn’t say so, because I could see that this was something he was unwilling to confront. He had a kind heart, and it undermined his attempts to break free.
Over coffee he became businesslike, outlining the salary he intended to pay me. When I protested that it was too much he said briskly, ‘That’s enough out of you. Drink up. We still have jewellery to buy.’
He considered me like a film director planning a shot.
‘You’re going to be a challenge. The gamine look isn’t easy to adorn. Trying to put a tiara on hair as short as yours can be the very devil. Luckily you have a nice long neck, so we can hang some long earrings on you.’
‘I don’t like long earrings,’ I said defiantly.
‘You’ll do as you’re told,’ he told me, with his nicest grin—i.e. his wickedest. There was no difference.
‘Oh, will I?’
‘Yes, you will. You see, I’m going to be a tyrant—no, don’t giggle. It’s time you found out what a tyrant I am. So if I want you in long diamond earrings, you’ll wear them. The same applies to pearls, emeralds, sapphires, rubies—’
‘Rubies don’t suit me.’
‘Don’t interrupt. Really top class rubies suit everyone. If you think otherwise you’ve been accepting them from the wrong men—cheapskates who didn’t get you the best.’
He left the question hanging in the air. I refused to answer, other than to say, ‘Is that so?’
‘That’s so.’