Midnight Girls

by Lulu Taylor

  ‘Very well,’ Rocco said in reply. ‘We’ll turn around now.’

  The car pulled smoothly to a halt at the side of the road and he got out. Romily turned to watch him, wondering what he was doing. He opened her door and climbed quickly in next to her. Just as she was opening her mouth to speak, he pulled a cloth out his pocket and pressed it over her face in one rapid movement. She tried to scream and struggle but it was impossible to make a sound with his hand pushing her face into the suffocating cloth. She couldn’t help it: she had to take a breath. Then another. As soon as she did, she felt herself begin to float away. She felt her eyes rolling back and, even though she fought it, unconsciousness possessed her.

  Chapter 57

  DRIVING BACK TO London along the M3, Allegra felt happy with progress at Astor House.

  Fuck it, I’m more than happy. I’m totally bloody ecstatic! It’s slow but it’s just right. There’s no point in hurrying and getting it wrong. We’re still on course to open next Easter, when the countryside will look fantastic.

  She and Adam had spent a happy two days at the site. The house was now completely gutted, stripped back to bare brick in places, and they were conserving and repairing the original features, including intricate plasterwork.

  ‘I never realised there was so much to know about bloody plaster,’ Allegra had said, her yellow hard hat on. ‘But this place has it all: egg and dart cornicing with columns, fluted this, drop-swagged that, and don’t get me started on ceiling roses, corbels and panel mouldings.’

  ‘The perils of Grade One listing.’ Adam smiled at her.

  ‘The bloody price of Grade One listing,’ she grumbled, pushing her hands in the pockets of her protective overcoat. ‘English Heritage seem to think we’re made of money and have nothing better to do than source original roof tiles of the precise size, age and colour of the ones on the roof already.’

  ‘David would approve.’

  ‘Oh my God, he would!’ Allegra laughed. ‘He’s such a perfectionist, he’d get on really well with the Heritage guy. But he’s going to be so excited when he sees this place. When it’s nearly finished, I’m looking forward to going on a fantastic shopping trip with him, sourcing some magnificent Regency antiques for the hotel.’

  Adam looked round. ‘I can see it now. It’s going to be an amazing blend of old and new: the speed and convenience of modern life, and the comfort and luxury of days gone by.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Allegra nodded. ‘And service … that’s the key. Such wonderful, personal service you’ll feel utterly cosseted and cared for. Along with the finest of everything, from the bed linen to the water glasses. Come on, let’s go and look at the spa.’

  They went out to the old coach house that was being converted into the health and beauty area.

  ‘Did I tell you I’ve decided to franchise this out?’ she said. ‘My cousin Jemima runs a perfume house with her sisters and they’ve recently developed a range of fantastic spa and beauty treatments. In fact, she’s opened a very successful spa at her own house in Dorset. I went to see it recently. Jemima says she’d love to take over here, stock it with Trevellyan products and offer their treatments.’

  ‘It’s not like you to hand over control to someone else,’ remarked Adam, studying the old building with its sagging beams and dirty floor.

  ‘I trust her and her brand,’ Allegra said with a smile. ‘It fits with the McCorquodale ethos of quality and luxury, the best of the best.’

  ‘I’d like to meet her.’

  ‘I’m sure you will. Now, let’s visit the vegetable garden. It’s going to supply the hotel and maybe even the London clubs if I can get enough production going here. Come on.’

  She was pleased that Adam seemed so impressed with the progress so far. It was important that he respected her business ability as well as her body – though she didn’t mind him showing his appreciation of that as well … She’d left him on-site to oversee some work and liaise with the site manager while she headed back to London. As she was driving back in on the M3, her phone went. She switched on her hands-free.

  ‘It’s your uncle,’ Tyra said when she’d answered the call. ‘He’s asked if you can go straight round to see him at home.’

  ‘Did he say why?’

  ‘No. Just that he’d like you to get there as soon as you can.’

  ‘OK. Can you ring him and tell him I’m just approaching Richmond? I’ll be there in about forty-five minutes.’

  ‘Will do,’ Tyra said, and rang off.

  Odd, thought Allegra as she drove on. I wonder why he didn’t call me himself.

  The traffic wasn’t too heavy. Within thirty-five minutes she was heading up Kensington High Street towards Knightsbridge. She parked outside David’s house and ran up the steps to the front door. His housekeeper answered and showed her in to the drawing room.

  She wandered about, looking at David’s pictures. She never grew tired of the many and varied paintings he had hung close together all over the walls. Her favourite was a portrait of an aristocratic young man with a lazy yet wicked glint in his eye.

  There was a sound behind her. She turned to see her uncle coming in through the door, his face serious, a pile of papers clamped under his arm.

  ‘Hello, David,’ she said cheerfully. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m well, very well. Sit down, Allegra, please.’

  She sat down, telling him about her latest trip to Astor House while he settled himself opposite, spreading out some of the papers he’d been carrying on the low table. He seemed to be listening with only half an ear, grunting a response from time to time.

  ‘Now,’ he said suddenly, cutting her off, ‘I went round to the office today and collected the details of last night’s takings. And the night before’s. In fact, I got the whole week’s worth.’

  ‘Yes?’ Allegra sat forward to see what was on the papers, but he snatched them away from her.

  ‘I’m very concerned,’ he said, fixing her with a cold gaze.

  ‘Why? Is something wrong?’

  ‘Yes, I believe it is. I believe there are significant sums missing. There seems to be a shortfall amounting to almost two hundred thousand pounds.’

  ‘What?’ cried Allegra, dismayed. ‘Where? How?’

  ‘That’s what I’m hoping you can tell me.’

  ‘Well, I’ve no idea.’ She was baffled. She kept a tight rein on the accounts. There was no way such a large amount could vanish without her noticing. ‘I’m sure I would have noticed a sum like that disappearing. After all, it’s almost a quarter of our profits on sales for last year.’

  ‘I’ve asked my own man to look into it. I also want some explanation of the spending on Astor House. It’s astronomical.’ He gave her a cold look. ‘Don’t you understand the climate we’re all working in?’

  ‘Of course I do, but we both agreed we couldn’t stop trying to expand just because times are hard. We need to make sure we’re prepared for a better future. We agreed that.’ She was bewildered by his hostility. Why was he being like this? She’d always been careful to get his agreement to anything she did.

  ‘Still doesn’t explain this,’ David said, gesturing to the papers. ‘Where is this missing money?’

  ‘I’ve truly no idea. I keep a firm grip on the accounts but I’ll need to go back to the accountant and go through everything with him …’

  ‘Was it for your car?’ her uncle asked abruptly. ‘You’ve been driving something fancy lately. Did you decide to give yourself a little cash advance to go and get it?’

  Allegra was astonished. ‘My car? It’s about five years old. You’ve seen me driving in it for ages.’

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ he snapped. ‘I’ve never seen it before.’

  She stared at him, appalled. How could he say that? He’d seen it, and often. Was he pretending or could he honestly not remember? Is he trying to accuse me of stealing? That’s ridiculous, David could never think that. It must be some kind of misunderstanding, surely … But
her spirits sank as she realised that this was just the latest manifestation of his odd behaviour and memory lapses. She said gently, ‘David, are you all right? You haven’t been yourself lately. Do you think you should see a doctor?’

  ‘Why do you say that?’ he said in an ominously quiet voice.

  ‘Because you really haven’t been yourself for ages. I noticed it a while ago. You’ve been acting oddly, making mistakes, forgetting things. Tyra’s noticed it too. It’s not like you, it really isn’t. I wish you’d see somebody about it, get yourself thoroughly checked out.’

  ‘Oh, you’d like me to see doctors, would you? Kindly friends of yours who’ll certify me as not of sound mind?’ He suddenly swept all the papers off the table and on to the floor, roaring, ‘I see your game and it’s bloody filthy!’ Then he leapt to his feet and went to the door. ‘Rosa!’ he called, as he opened it. ‘Send them in here.’

  Allegra stood up, confused. ‘Do you already have a doctor?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, no, my dear, I do not.’ He stood back and the next moment a troop of men in sober suits came into the room carrying briefcases. David went to his desk by the window and sat on the leather-seated chair. ‘Gentlemen, I am ready to sign.’

  ‘Sign what?’ Anxiety was making Allegra’s skin prickle. ‘What are you going to sign, David?’

  ‘These gentlemen are lawyers,’ he said, almost kindly. ‘Mine are from Baxter and Harvill, the family’s legal advisors. And the others are from some whizz-bang City outfit. Their client has already signed the contract.’

  The lawyers opened their cases and began to bring out documents. One of the men laid a thick pile of papers, stapled in the left-hand corner, in front of David and offered him a pen.

  ‘Thank you, I prefer to use my Cartier,’ he said, flicking through the document.

  ‘David, what are you going to sign?’ Allegra repeated, trying to get near him so she could read the print, but the lawyers seemed to be blocking her, trying to keep her away.

  ‘I’m going to sell the David McCorquodale Group, of course. I’ve been offered a price that’s more than fair. And do you know what? It’s time I had a rest. I’ve been slaving away at Colette’s for almost half a century and I fancy a cruise. I think a hundred million pounds should buy me rather a nice one.’

  ‘David, no!’ Allegra shrieked. She reached out her hand towards him. With a few strokes of his pen, he was going to bring down everything they’d worked so hard for. Oscar’s, Astor House – in just a second it would all be gone, along with her beloved Colette’s. ‘It’s Mitchell, isn’t it? He’s got to you! He’s persuaded you to sell to him … Why, David, why?’

  Her uncle’s face contorted as though some malevolent spirit had possessed him. ‘Because you know what you are!’ he hissed. ‘You stole my money! And you’re wrong. I’m not selling to Mitchell. I’m selling to Romily de Lisle.’

  Allegra paled. All the strength seemed to leave her. ‘What?’ she whispered. She could hardly take it in. Romily? But how? Through blurred vision she could see David poise his pen above the contract. ‘No.’ Her voice came out hoarse, barely audible. ‘Please, I’m begging you …’

  ‘Beg all you like,’ he said tartly. And signed his name with a flourish.

  Chapter 58

  ROMILY WOKE UP with a thudding headache and a dry mouth. She tried to lick her lips and realised that she couldn’t because a thick gag was wrapped tightly around her mouth. Trying to move, she discovered that her hands were bound together, as were her feet. She was lying on a filthy sofa in a large room that looked as though it might be in a warehouse: at least, there were rows of industrial-style windows running along the highest point of the walls, where no ordinary house would have windows. It was daylight outside, but the grey patch of sky visible gave no indication what time it was.

  What happened? she thought blearily. Where am I?

  Then she was drenched in cold horror as she recalled the previous evening. I’ve been kidnapped!

  All her life she’d been aware of the threats that surrounded her and the entire family: kidnap, extortion, murder. She’d heard the story of the little Lindbergh baby, kidnapped, killed and buried before his parents could pay a ransom; she’d read about Patty Hearst, abducted for her family’s wealth and turned into a gun-toting criminal; and she knew of the Getty boy who’d had his ear cut off by his captors. She’d always been promised that this would never happen to her – it was one of the reasons she’d accepted the restriction of having bodyguards and security all her life. Everyone knew the de Lisles were worth billions. Romily and her brother had grown up two of the most closely guarded children in Europe.

  But it had all been for nothing.

  She was cold and stiff. She tried to stretch out but it was difficult without the use of her hands to push herself out of the well of badly sprung seat cushions.

  Oh, God, what’s going to happen to me?

  She felt herself tremble on the brink of hysteria. If she were able to open her mouth, she feared she’d start screaming and not be able to stop. She began to breathe fast, sucking in air through the gag and her nose, on the point of hyperventilating with panic.

  No, stay calm, she told herself. She forced herself to breathe slowly through her nose, pulling as much air as she could into her lungs and holding it in a few seconds before exhaling. It helped. My only hope is to stay completely aware of everything that’s happening. Now – what can I see exactly?

  She turned her head and strained to observe everything she could. A pair of wide double doors were tightly shut but she could see a bar of light coming from underneath. If her kidnappers were still around, they must be through there. She was sure she was alone in this big, chilly room. Thank God she’d put on her cashmere jumper before she’d left. Imagine if she were still in her red dress …

  She tried to think back over the evening’s events. It was Rocco, she thought dully. He stifled me with that handkerchief. He must be in on this plot somehow.

  Remembering the packet of photographs that had arrived that evening, she recalled his agitation. He didn’t know someone else had me in their sights. He must have guessed I was changing my plans unexpectedly, going somewhere that meant he wouldn’t be able to do whatever it was he had planned. So he’s brought everything forward.

  That, she realised with a cold thud in her stomach, could prove dangerous for her. A kidnap planned and executed on the hoof would mean edgy, panicky captors. She would have to be careful not to shock or frighten them.

  Whatever happens, keep calm, be friendly, remind them you’re a human being. Then … perhaps they won’t kill you.

  Allegra pulled to a halt in front of Adam’s mansion block. She was damn’ lucky she hadn’t been stopped by the police on her careering journey across town from Knightsbridge to North London, her vision sometimes blinded by tears, but she’d wiped them away angrily and carried on.

  Only Adam would understand. Only he knew what it had been like over the last year or so. And to have it all taken away like this!

  Why? Why did you do it, David?

  She jumped out of the car and buzzed Adam’s apartment. There was no answer. She’d thought that he was heading back here this evening. She pulled out her telephone and rang him, but it went straight through to his voicemail. Where are you?

  She stood forlornly on the doorstep, wondering what to do next, then the door unexpectedly opened and one of the inhabitants of the building came out. As the woman left Allegra stepped behind her and stopped the front door from closing. She slipped in and hurried up the stairs to Adam’s flat. Outside his flat was a fire extinguisher cupboard and she knew he kept a spare key stuck to the underside of the cupboard top, out of sight.

  I’ll go in and wait for him. He’ll be back soon.

  She found the key easily enough, opened the door and went inside. She’d spent many nights in the flat since she and Adam had been together, but had never been here on her own. It was clean, modern and decorated in a plain s
tyle, monochrome with the odd flash of colour. Adam liked his gadgets all right – he had a huge plasma screen HD television with cinema-quality sound and plenty of other toys to amuse himself.

  What am I going to do? He’ll be devastated, she thought, wandering desolately through the flat. All our work together … how am I going to tell him?

  She went into his bedroom. She wanted to lie down on the bed, curl up and go to sleep. Perhaps when she woke up, all this would be just a nasty dream and everything would have gone back to the way it was before.

  She shivered, feeling cold. The heating hadn’t come on in the flat and the evening chill was beginning to permeate it. I’ll wear one of Adam’s jumpers.

  She went over to the long line of built-in wardrobes where he stored all his clothes and opened it. The wardrobe ran the length of the room and inside was divided up into more cupboards, shelves and drawers. Pulling out some of the drawers, she looked for something suitable. Everything was neatly folded and arranged in colour-coded stacks. She found a grey V-neck lambswool jumper, took it out and slipped it over her silk blouse. It warmed her immediately. Being among Adam’s clothes gave her some comfort, and the neatness of the cupboards and drawers made her smile: it was so like Adam. He liked everything nice and neat. She pulled open another cupboard and stood there, blinking in confusion.

  Unlike the other parts of the wardrobe this cupboard was a mess, or at least a muddle of things. No clothes hung from the rail, but some necklaces and rosaries did. On the back wall of the cupboard pictures and newspaper articles were stuck all over, some annotated and highlighted. On the shelf above the drawers were a large framed photograph, some trinkets, and two candles in silver sticks, half burned down, their wicks black and curled.

  She frowned and shook her head, unable to take in what she was seeing. Everything looked so familiar and yet so odd. The framed photograph was a face she knew almost as well as her own, even though she hadn’t seen it for years – at least, not in reality. She’d seen it in her dreams many times but not alive since that dreadful night ten years ago at Westfield Boarding School for Girls.