Midnight Girls

by Lulu Taylor

  She thought of her death. Will it hurt? Will it be quick? I hope it’s quick. I don’t want pain. She began to feel faint but steeled herself. I can stand it They mustn’t see I’m scared.

  Carlo came close to her. She could feel his body heat radiating through his clothes; smell the bitter cumin-flavoured tang of his sweat. It repelled her. She turned her head and opened her eyes to look at him, hoping that with her gaze she was reminding him that she was a woman he knew, a human being, and she asked him with her eyes how he could contemplate killing her for money.

  He stared back but his own eyes were cold and full of hatred. It was as though he didn’t really see her at all.

  Then he pulled a gun out of his pocket and pushed the barrel against her head, the cold dark O of the barrel pressing into her temple. In the other hand, he held his telephone. ‘Five more minutes,’ he said in a harsh whisper. ‘Five more minutes for you.’

  I will be strong, she told herself. I won’t let them see that I’m afraid, or that I want to live. She stiffened her spine and straightened her shoulders.

  ‘It will be my pleasure,’ Carlo said, ‘to rid the world of another parasite like you.’

  She breathed out slowly and refused to speak, sensing that in the room there was fear and dread to balance out Carlo’s rage-fuelled bloodlust. Someone watching did not like what was going on at all. Help me, she prayed.

  ‘Carlo, do we have to kill her?’ It was Rocco, sounding calm and reasonable. ‘Worse for us if we are caught. If we get the money, let’s just leave her here.’

  ‘She knows us!’ snarled Carlo.

  ‘They’ll already guess I’m involved. And that idiot Marco is bound to blab at some point. Everyone will know we did it. But once we’re away, they won’t be able to find us.’

  ‘I’m going to find Marco and kill him, believe me,’ Carlo said. ‘And if all that ties me to this is you … well …’

  The gun was taken from her head and the next moment there was a loud explosion. A heavy body hit the ground next to her. Romily opened her eyes and looked down. It was Rocco, blasted through the chest, a huge hole in his back, his face twisted. Blood was rushing from the gaping wound, streaming out all over floor.

  ‘Now you,’ Carlo said brusquely. The barrel came back to her head. He cocked the gun. She closed her eyes and waited for the explosion. And then it came.

  The room erupted in a tornado of sound. She collapsed to the floor, into the warm stickiness of Rocco’s blood. Am I dead? What’s happening? she thought, confused. She’d always imagined that when she was shot, the world would turn off instantly, like a radio. But the noise, the raging gunfire, was going on forever. On and on: blasting, shouting, thudding. And then … quiet fell. A couple of muted voices was all she could hear.

  Footsteps came running across the concrete floor beside her. Then she was being lifted up in strong arms and held close to a warm body.

  ‘Romily! Romily, it’s me. Are you OK? Are you OK, baby?’

  She opened her eyes to the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen. Mitch was looking down into her eyes, his face grey with anxiety, his chin covered in stubble. If that’s how he looks, I must look terrible! she thought. And then she laughed at the stupidity of the thought, though it came out a weak, small sound.

  ‘My darling,’ she said in a croak. ‘You came for me. I’m not dead.’

  ‘But you’re hurt. You’re covered in blood!’ he said in panic.

  ‘Not mine. Rocco’s.’ She looked to where her guard lay on the warehouse floor. She could see Carlo’s body a few feet away, also blood-soaked from many wounds.

  ‘You’re safe, my love.’ Mitch pulled her close to him and wrapped his arms around her, sinking his face into her hair. ‘I’ve found you. I’m never letting you go again.’

  Malik answered the telephone call, then he came dashing out to find Allegra and Imogen, who were waiting in the sitting room, both tense and nervous. They’d seen Mitch and his boys leave in three huge Land Rovers and had known that they were going to get Romily.

  ‘They’ve got her! She’s fine, she’s fine. They found her in a warehouse in Brixton.’

  Imogen and Allegra hugged each other, laughing and crying at the same time.

  ‘Can we see her?’ asked Allegra, when they were able to speak again.

  Malik shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. It’s time for cleanup.’

  ‘Cleanup? What’s that?’

  ‘After an operation like this, we have to cleanup, of course. The police were not involved and we’ve got to make sure that there’s no reason for them to be. There are … things to be disposed of. I think you girls should go home and try to act as normal as possible.’

  Allegra looked at Imogen and they exchanged glances. Normal? How could they feel normal after all this? They’d been in Mitch’s house for almost twenty-four hours, waiting, wound up to a fever pitch. Life couldn’t just go back to normal, could it?

  ‘What about Adam?’ asked Allegra. He was still lying sedated in the spare room.

  ‘He’s part of the cleanup, I’m afraid. We’re going to get him to a surgeon tonight or tomorrow, to get his leg seen to. Then he’ll have it explained to him that it’s in his best interests to forget he was ever here or ever shot.’

  ‘Will you tell me where he is? I want to be with him if I can,’ Allegra said anxiously.

  Malik looked at her sympathetically. ‘Maybe I can stretch the rules, just this once.’

  ‘It’s the least you can do,’ she replied sardonically, ‘considering you shot him for absolutely no reason.’

  Malik shrugged. ‘I was protecting you, in case you’ve forgotten.’ He looked over at Imogen. ‘How about you? Any requests?’

  She smiled back and shook her head. ‘Actually I can’t wait to get home. But please – when you see her, give Romily our love. Tell her we want to see her as soon as she’s up to it.’

  ‘You bet. It’ll be my pleasure.’ Malik looked at his watch. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I need to get cleanup underway. And that includes getting a glazier out to your house, Allegra, to deal with the bullet hole in the front window, so if you wouldn’t mind warning your housekeeper – and making sure she’s going to be discreet – that would be great.’

  Allegra raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m impressed.’

  ‘It’s the little details that count. See you guys soon, I hope. And give Alex a block to chew from me.’ Malik grinned at Imogen, and headed out of the room.

  Chapter 67

  Two Weeks Later

  ALLEGRA WALKED ALONG the hall to the impressive rosewood and brass double doors of the Davies Penthouse in Claridge’s. She buzzed and a moment later a uniformed butler opened the door.

  She tucked her Hermès Kelly bag back under her elbow and smiled. ‘Lady Allegra McCorquodale here for Miss de Lisle.’

  The butler stood aside to let her in and then led her through a magnificent black-and-white hallway to an oak-floored sitting room with French doors leading on to a terrace. The room was a subtle mix of Claridge’s signature Art Deco look and a classic Victorian feel.

  The butler announced her in a ringing voice, and then withdrew.

  Romily was standing at the black-framed window, looking out on to the terrace. When she heard the announcement of Allegra’s arrival, she turned round. She was wearing a beautiful navy blue dress with white piping around its square neckline. It was body-hugging, emphasising her waist and hips, and she wore white strappy sandals in a thirties style, round-toed with four slender white buckled straps across each foot. Her dark hair was freshly styled into a choppy bob, a fringe ruffled across her forehead, and she wore pearl and diamond earrings that glowed richly against her colouring.

  Allegra stood very still. For a long minute, they stared at each other. Then Romily held out her arms and, after a moment’s hesitation, Allegra went over to her and they embraced.

  They pulled back and looked at each other. Then Romily said slowly, ‘Imogen isn’t c
oming for another thirty minutes. I thought perhaps we needed to have some time alone first.’

  ‘Yes. I think that’s a good idea.’ Allegra smoothed down her Lagerfeld pencil skirt, moved gracefully to an armchair and sat down.

  ‘Wilson will bring us some tea,’ Romily said, taking her place on a small carved sofa next to her. She looked at Allegra and smiled. ‘How are you?’

  ‘How are you?’ Allegra rejoined. ‘After all, you were the one who was kidnapped!’

  ‘I’m remarkably well,’ Romily said. ‘I feel safe here, right at the top of Claridge’s. I didn’t want to go back to my flat after what happened, and I’m just not very keen on Mitch’s place.’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ Allegra said jokily. ‘It’s like being stuck inside a leather chess set. And all those down-lighters give me a headache.’

  ‘I’m sure we’ll find something much nicer,’ Romily said. ‘I shouldn’t have let him go and pick something on his own.’

  There was a brief silence. Allegra looked down at the carpet.

  Romily began speaking in a gentle voice. ‘First, Allegra, I want to say thank you – because you tried to help Mitch find me.’

  ‘My help was kind of useless – he would have found you with or without me,’ she said frankly. ‘It was Imogen who provided the real breakthrough when she remembered Marco.’

  ‘Maybe. But you tried to help. On the very day we bought you out and destroyed your dream.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Allegra shifted uncomfortably. At last she said, ‘Some things are more important than business.’

  Romily leant forward, looking earnest. ‘But for years I’ve been tormented by a question. I’ve asked myself over and over again – why did Allegra betray me? Why did she want to destroy my marriage? Try as I might, I could never think of an answer. After all, we had promised to stick together, no matter what.’

  The butler came in with the tea: he placed the pot, teacups, milk jug and sugar carefully on the table between them, followed by the large cake-stand, covered in sandwiches, scones and tiny, perfect cakes.

  When he’d gone, Allegra looked up. Her expression was solemn, almost nervous. ‘I’ve never told anyone about this,’ she said at last, in a small voice. ‘But you remember when I came to stay with you in Paris, before I went to Oxford?’

  Romily nodded. ‘Of course. It was the last time we were really friends.’

  Allegra nodded too. ‘And remember that man … Monsieur Antoine? He was a friend of your parents.’

  Romily frowned and then said, ‘Oh, of course. That fat little man. Yes, I remember him. He took you to the Musée d’Orsay.’

  ‘He didn’t just take me to the museum,’ Allegra said slowly. ‘He took me back to his apartment and … he forced me to have sex with him.’

  Romily gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, her eyes horrified. ‘Oh, Allegra, no! No!’

  She nodded, her face grim. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me? You said nothing!’

  Allegra looked away. ‘I couldn’t. You see, he was very clever. He manipulated things in such a way that I felt completely to blame. I couldn’t tell anyone. I never have until now.’ She looked back, her expression tortured now. ‘But I blamed you for it – because you were ill and couldn’t come to the damn’ museum! I know it was stupid and unfair, but I transferred all the anger I felt towards that horrible little man on to you. I couldn’t bear to think about you, or Paris. It all came to mean the same to me: that terrible afternoon.’

  Romily closed her eyes. When she opened them, they glittered with tears. ‘That’s how all this started? Oh my God, Allegra – that’s too sad. Too awful. You were raped!’ She began to sob. ‘And I never noticed, I never even knew! You were our guest and we let that happen to you. No wonder you hated me.’

  Allegra reached out a hand to her, her own eyes stinging with tears. ‘No. It wasn’t your fault either. It was that dreadful man’s. I made a mistake. I should have told you – and I should never have blamed you.’

  ‘And that’s why you let yourself be used to record our conversation …’ Romily said wonderingly.

  Allegra looked shamefaced. She ran her fingers through her blonde hair. ‘I should never have done that. But your mother rang me … said you’d been charmed by a hopeless gigolo who was only after your money. Of course, I knew you were madly in love but I let myself be persuaded that I was doing the right thing by taping our tea at the Ritz. And at the end of the conversation, I felt sure that I couldn’t really cause any trouble – you were so obviously utterly sincere in your love and you believed in Mitch completely. You convinced me.’ She looked at her friend beseechingly. ‘I had no idea what your parents would do to the recording. Imogen told me how they manipulated it. I’m sorry, Romily, I really am.’

  Romily stared at her for a moment, then her eyes softened and she laughed. ‘You know, it’s so silly. Their plan backfired – Mitch and I grew stronger than ever. Perhaps we wouldn’t even be together now if it hadn’t been for that. So maybe I should thank you.’ She poured out the tea. ‘What is that saying? To understand all is to forgive all. It seems it’s true. Now we both know everything, we no longer need to hate each other. And … I’m sorry about Xander too.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Allegra said quietly.

  The doorbell buzzed again and a few moments later the butler announced, ‘Miss Imogen Heath.’

  Imogen came in, looking apprehensive, but when she saw the other two sitting by the window, she smiled, evidently relieved.

  ‘Romily!’ She ran over to her friend and threw her arms around her. ‘I’m so glad you’re safe. What a horrible, horrible ordeal you’ve been through.’

  Romily hugged her back. ‘It wasn’t great,’ she admitted. As Imogen kissed Allegra hello and settled herself down, Romily poured her out some tea and said, ‘The strange thing is that now it’s happened, I feel wonderfully, marvellously free. All my life, this threat has been hanging over me, hemming me in, making me afraid. Now I feel as though I’ve faced it down, and it’s gone. Of course, I know it hasn’t completely. There’s no reason why someone won’t try again at some point – but now I’ve actually been there and come back, I know I can survive something like this. It’s made me feel very strong. And I’ve learnt how little actually matters in the world. Love, family and friends’ – she looked at the other two girls, smiling – ‘those are the only things you care about in the end, it turns out.’ She shot them a mischievous look as she helped herself from the cake-stand. ‘Along with Claridge’s apple scones, of course.’

  ‘So, everything is all right?’ Imogen said tentatively, looking between the two of them.

  Allegra nodded. ‘Yes. Some old misunderstandings have been cleared up.’

  ‘That’s fantastic,’ Imogen declared, obviously relieved, and leant forward eagerly. ‘That’s made my appetite come right back. I’m afraid I have to claim this wonderful-looking éclair immediately.’

  They talked on for two hours, just as they had when they were schoolgirls, chattering rapidly, flying from one subject to the next, catching up on all the news they had missed.

  ‘What’s happened to Adam, Allegra?’ Imogen asked, licking the cream from her fingers. ‘Do you know?’

  She nodded. ‘He’s gone home to recuperate. I think we both need some time apart to think things over. But after that … who knows? I still think there’s a chance for us. I do love him, despite everything.’

  Romily looked sombre. ‘I feel sorry for him. He lost his sister in those awful circumstances.’

  ‘In a way, that links us together. We’ve both suffered by Sophie’s death. And we both know what it’s like to lose a sibling in a stupid, wasteful way. We’ve both been through it.’ She gazed down at the table for a moment and then looked up again, her face strangely happy. ‘He brought me back to life, taught me how to love. I’ll always be grateful to him for that, no matter what.’

  They were all quiet for a moment, remembering Sophie Har
court. Those days were so far away they could finally look back and acknowledge all that had happened. It seemed far more serious and solemn now than it had at the time: that poor girl had died while they had gone on, to learn all about life and love and the world. Sophie had never had that chance.

  Romily broke the gravity of the mood. ‘Imogen,’ she cried, ‘where is your little boy? I’m dying to meet him.’

  ‘He’s at home with the nanny. You must come and meet him soon.’

  ‘I’d love to,’ she replied warmly. ‘And if I don’t meet him before, then I hope you’ll bring him to the wedding.’

  The other two looked at her questioningly. Romily laughed and held out her hand to display a large baguette white diamond with two yellow diamonds flanking it. ‘I’m getting married, next month, here in London. Mitch and I always thought we’d go crazy when we did it again, but after what’s happened we want a quiet affair, with just family and close friends. So I hope you’ll come.’

  Imogen shot a glance at Allegra. Reconciling with Romily was one thing – but with Mitch? The man who’d stolen the things she cared most for in the world? Maybe that was too much to ask. But Allegra said in a heartfelt tone, ‘I’d love to come, Rom. Wouldn’t miss it.’

  ‘Can you imagine?’ she laughed. ‘Married twice before I’m thirty! I guess it’s not so bad if it’s to the same man.’ She turned to Imogen then. ‘How about you, Midge? I hope you’re coming to the wedding.’ She added in a naughty voice, ‘Malik mentioned he’d like to see you again. He’s going to be Mitch’s best man, by the way.’

  Imogen blushed scarlet, then laughed. ‘I’d better find something extra special to wear then,’ she said.

  ‘I’ve got something you can borrow, if you like,’ Romily offered. ‘We’ll have a look through the wardrobe in a minute.’

  ‘We’re going to look at Romily’s clothes?’ Allegra cried. ‘Now I know everything’s back to how it was!’

  They all looked at each other, laughing. The Midnight Girls were reunited at last.