9

THE TURN OF the century Grand Hotel on the very tip of the millionaires’ promontory Cap Ferrat, was one of the most exclusive and expensive on the entire coast. The rich, the famous and even the infamous could stay there in complete seclusion and anonymity if that was their wish, which was why, as a woman who valued her privacy above all else, Consuela had arranged to meet Rosalind on the hotel’s sweeping half-moon terrace, shaded by umbrella pines and sufficiently distant from the other guests not to be overheard.

At that moment Rosalind was staring in horror at Consuela, wondering if she were looking at a friend or an enemy. Neither of them spoke for a moment as two uniformed waiters positioned themselves at their elbows, paused, then with a subtle flourish, lifted the silver lids from their plates to reveal the homard aux girolles.

‘I’m sorry, Rosalind,’ Consuela murmured as the waiters departed. ‘Truly, I’m sorry.’

‘But if he’s with Peter now,’ Rosalind said, ‘why didn’t you call me before I left? Maybe I could have stopped him.’

‘I called,’ Consuela said, ‘but you were already on your way.’

‘Oh my God!’ Rosalind muttered, her face as pale as the alabaster sculptures in the gardens. ‘This is going to kill Peter,’ she said, gazing sightlessly at the other tables where fine wines accompanied the exquisite food and easy laughter rippled from the lips of the chic guests. ‘It’ll kill everything. Don’t you understand that? Peter trusts me. More than that, he truly believes that the sex life we have is enough. And it is! It’s just that sometimes the pressure of living with someone who’s dying is too much. I have to find a release, to forget it, if only for a few hours.’

‘I understand,’ Consuela said, covering her hand. ‘Believe me, I know what you’re going through.’

‘So why are you allowing Jake to do this?’ Rosalind implored.

‘It’s not a question of allowing, you know that,’ Consuela answered.

‘But you must have known what he was doing.’

‘Not until it was already done,’ Consuela said, swallowing hard on her food.

Rosalind looked at her dully. ‘How much money is he going to ask for?’ she said.

Consuela shook her head. ‘I don’t know. It’ll be a lot.’

‘But didn’t you tell him Peter was dying?’ Rosalind pleaded. ‘Doesn’t he have any pity for a man whose only wish now is for a peaceful end to his life?’

‘Of course I told him,’ Consuela assured her. ‘I did everything I could to stop him. I even offered him the money myself.’

‘But he wouldn’t take it,’ Rosalind stated helplessly. ‘I’d have paid him,’ she said. ‘I have money. Not as much as Peter, it’s true, but … Oh no, Consuela,’ she cried as Consuela lifted her napkin to her mouth to stifle a sob.

‘Rosalind, I’m sorry,’ she choked. ‘Would that it had been anyone but you. But no, I wouldn’t wish this on anyone and to think that this is the price people have to pay for being my friend. It’s my fault, I’m as much to blame as he is, but tell me, what can I do? They wouldn’t send him for trial. His family are more powerful than …’

‘Sssh, ssh,’ Rosalind soothed, aware that they were attracting several interested glances. ‘It’s not your fault. Please, Consuela. You mustn’t blame yourself. I know what he’s put you through …’

‘He doesn’t want me to have any friends,’ Consuela said, her voice so choked with tears it was barely audible. ‘The rumours he’s spread about me … I know what he says, but that I can live with. It’s what he does to the people I care for that I can’t live with.’

Rosalind turned and stared at the glittering Mediterranean where expert skiers skimmed smoothly across the waves, wind-surfers glided with the breeze and a hundred different yachts rocked and swayed in the current. ‘So he’s done this before,’ she said, hearing the words echo in her head.

Consuela nodded. ‘I wish I could tell you otherwise, but he’s had those videos put together in the past and …’ Her voice was too strangled for a moment to continue, ‘and … he’s rich, Rosalind, richer than you or I put together. He doesn’t need the money. He does it for kicks. Diana and William Fitzbligh? You remember them. They’re divorced now, we never see her any more. It was Jake who split them up, who destroyed her life. He put a camera in the bathhouse and had everything she did edited together with a real pornographic film. He sent copies to William’s colleagues, to his clients, even to his children. Diana didn’t do half the things she looks like she’s doing, they’re most of them editing tricks, but it looks so real and the damage … Rosalind, he’s going to make as big a fool out of Peter as he can and Peter will …’ she stopped, unable to go on.

‘Will die thinking that that was how much I valued him and what we are to each other,’ Rosalind finished, still staring blindly out to sea. ‘Oh God, Consuela! What am I going to do? How am I going to face him?’

‘You can only tell him the truth,’ Consuela answered. ‘You must tell him why you come to the bathhouse then explain the editing tricks Jake uses to make it look like it’s you doing those disgusting things.’

‘How disgusting are they?’ Rosalind said, her eyes dilating with fear.

‘They’re horrible. Depraved.’

Rosalind took a gulp of wine. It was still her first glass, but already she was lightheaded with the fear of what this was going to do to the husband she loved so deeply. A man as gentle and kind as Peter should never have to be submitted to the kind of humiliation and heartbreak Jake Mallory was going to bring into his life. He had so little time left in this world, so why couldn’t Jake just let him die with dignity and love in his heart, instead of the shame of seeing his wife behave like a whore or worse. She thought of how long it had taken to win over her stepchildren; what were they going to think now? Would Jake really show them?

She looked at Consuela. ‘We have to go to the police,’ she said.

The clatter of cutlery, strains of soft music and drifting hum of conversation filled the silence. At last Consuela shook her head, ‘It wouldn’t do any good,’ she said. ‘Remember, he has already been arrested once and on a much more serious charge than extortion. They let him go then and they’ll do it again. His father’s influence doesn’t stop at the shores of the United States any more than the power of the United States stops there.’

Rosalind put a shaking hand to her mouth. ‘Dear God, where does all this end?’ she sobbed.

‘I wish I had an answer for you,’ Consuela said, gazing down at her empty plate. ‘But you must think of yourself now. Make Peter’s last days as happy as you can, the way I know you want to. Tell him to call me if you think it will help. I’ll stand by you, I’ll do all I can to ease this for you – for you both … And he won’t change his will, I know he won’t. He loves you too much to do that. Yes, I know right now that’s not your consideration. You don’t need the money, but neither do you need it being said that it was your indiscretions on a video that made him change his will. It happened to me, remember? My husband changed his will and now the disgrace is such that I cannot return to my homeland. Yes, he gave me the house, he gave me enough to run it, but everything else he took from me, including my beloved Argentina.’

Rosalind looked at Consuela’s beautiful, grief-stricken face and realized that she could hardly begin to know the depths of her suffering. Rosalind knew so much more than most, but even she didn’t know the full story of what had happened at the time of Carmelo Santini’s death. Consuela couldn’t bring herself to speak of it the pain was so great. And the question that had trembled accusingly on Rosalind’s lips earlier was already answered. Consuela had the bathhouse because Jake made her.

‘What are you going to do about those girls?’ Rosalind asked, looking at her watch. ‘They’ll be here soon, have you thought about what you’re going to say?’

Consuela shook her head then shivered as though a storm-cloud had suddenly passed over the blazing sun. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she said. ‘I keep telling myself they’re young, they don’t have so much to lose, they can survive it, but one of them, Danny, is already involved with him. I don’t know how seriously, but you know how the young are, if you forbid it they will want it all the more. You know Danny’s mother, Suzannah Spencer?’

‘Yes, yes, I know her.’

‘It would break her heart if anything happened to that girl.’

‘I know,’ Rosalind mumbled. It wasn’t that she was feeling unsympathetic, it was simply that she was facing a crisis herself right now and just couldn’t take on board any one else’s.

Consuela smiled weakly. ‘But let’s not dwell on what might happen,’ she said, ‘when the unthinkable is already happening to you.’

Rosalind’s heart gave a sickening lurch as she thought of what her beloved husband must be going through even as they spoke. ‘Consuela,’ she said softly, ‘would you mind terribly …’

‘No, of course I don’t mind,’ Consuela said, reading what Rosalind was about to say. ‘He’ll need you now. Call me when you can.’

Rosalind started to get up then stopped as she realized she was leaving Consuela in such distress. Her loyalties were badly torn, but Peter was dying. ‘I’ll always be there for you, Consuela,’ she said. ‘You know that, don’t you?’

‘I don’t deserve it,’ Consuela smiled sadly, ‘but yes, I know.’

Within minutes the atmosphere around the table had changed so dramatically that Consuela could barely catch her breath. Louisa was so overwhelmed by the hotel’s splendour that Consuela found herself laughing along with her at such guileless enthusiasm. In fact both Louisa and Danny appeared in such high spirits that it was impossible not to be drawn in. And in their own individual ways they looked so lovely that heads were constantly turning in their direction. It was undoubtedly Danny who was attracting the most attention, for she was the more beautiful of the two and she looked so radiant today that Consuela decided that to broach the subject of Jake as she’d intended would be a mistake.

‘Hey!’ Danny said suddenly as she handed the menu back to the waiter. ‘We just saw Rosalind Carmichael driving off. She looked terrible. In fact she almost drove into us she was going so fast.’

Consuela chuckled. ‘That is Rosalind’s usual way of driving, I’m afraid,’ she said. ‘Always in a hurry. So, where’s Sarah? I thought she was coming along too.’

‘Sarah is in her new darkroom,’ Louisa answered. ‘She’s shot about a hundred reels of film since we’ve been here so we’re not expecting to see her for at least a week.’

Consuela appeared interested. ‘What is she photographing?’ she asked.

‘Anything that moves,’ Danny replied, her eyes moving about the terrace, ‘especially us. Every time we turn round she’s right there with her camera.’

‘Not that you’re complaining,’ Louisa retorted, laughingly.

Danny threw her a look which brought a fond smile to Consuela’s lips.

‘And what have you two been doing with yourselves?’ she wondered.

‘What haven’t we been doing?’ Louisa laughed. And as she recounted their hilarious attempts at water-skiing, para-sailing and even a little scuba-diving plus the parties they’d been to and the whole general chaos that was taking over their lives, Danny interjected with teasing comments and obviously feigned boredom. Though Consuela was smiling she could have wept for the loss of her own youth and such enthusiasm for life. And Louisa, she noticed, was a good deal more beautiful than she’d at first thought. Her hair had lightened in the sun and it was now a soft caramel colour, her skin had darkened and her smile was quite dazzling. She was, Consuela realized, fascinating to watch, for there was an elegance, a grace to her movements that brought out her femininity in a way Consuela had seen in few other women.

As Louisa sipped her wine she knew she was being quietly assessed and was intrigued to know what Consuela was thinking. Not that she was going to ask, any more than she was going to bring up the subject of Jake. True, Consuela was probably the one person who could tell her what she longed to know, but he had asked her to trust him and that was what she was going to do.

‘Just look at her, will you?’ Danny said, making Louisa blink. ‘Oh, hello, you are still with us,’ Danny grinned. ‘You’ll have to excuse her,’ she added to Consuela, ‘she’s a writer, drifts off with the muse, you know what I mean?’

‘What are you writing?’ Consuela smiled.

‘I’m in the planning stages of what I hope will be a ten-part series,’ Louisa answered, feeling on quite a high because of all the work she’d managed to get done in the past couple of days – since she’d seen Jake.

‘Did you contact Señor Morandi, by the way?’ Consuela asked, covering her wine glass as a waiter tried to refill it.

‘Not yet,’ Louisa answered. ‘But we’re going to. What sort of things is he looking for, do you know?’

‘I’m not really sure,’ Consuela confessed. ‘I’ve only met him once, but I think he’s had quite a few successes in feature films and television.’

‘Does he speak English?’ Louisa asked – it was easy to forget that not everyone did when they seemed so surrounded by English-speakers.

‘Mmm,’ Consuela answered, taking a mouthful of the delicious Saint Jacques aux cèpes. ‘His English is very good if I remember correctly.’

‘I don’t know if we’ll be able to get Sarah interested,’ Danny commented. ‘She’s dead set on changing careers right now, but you and I could always go to see him, Louisa.’ She picked up a napkin to fan herself. ‘God, it’s hot,’ she sighed.

‘It’ll get much hotter than this by August,’ Consuela warned. ‘But you’ll be more used to it by then. Besides, we have some rain forecast over the next few days, that should help cool you down a …’ She stopped and followed the direction of Danny’s eyes to see a stunning blonde woman, in the very briefest of bikinis, stroll across the terrace down into the garden below. Just about everyone in the restaurant had paused to watch her, for as one of the world’s leading models she was as easily recognized as she was admired.

Louisa wasn’t in the least surprised when a few minutes later Danny disappeared into the ladies’ room. By the time she returned she would be wearing the white one-piece swimsuit she’d brought with her and her flawless, tanned skin would be coated in oil. Today was obviously one of the days when she wanted the limelight and as gorgeous as Gretchen Gunter was even she would find it hard to compete with Danny’s exotically dark and voluptuous beauty. Louisa smiled to herself. Danny was so like a child at times, so easy to read and desperate to be noticed, and with a stab of unpalatable jealousy she couldn’t help wondering what Jake really thought of her.

‘I am glad to have this chance to speak to you alone,’ Consuela said. ‘Johann tells me that you left the bathhouse earlier than the others, that the entertainment wasn’t quite to your … How shall we put it? Taste?’

‘Oh, please don’t think …’

‘It’s all right,’ Consuela smiled, putting up her hand. ‘I’m not offended, I was just hoping that you weren’t.’

‘No, not at all,’ Louisa assured her, feeling herself start to colour. ‘It was just, well, it was simply that …’ What could she say when the truth was that she’d left early because of Jake? It seemed so absurd when at that point they’d never even spoken to each other.

‘You don’t have to explain,’ Consuela laughed. ‘I understand. You may have noticed that I didn’t join in myself – you see it’s not really to my taste either.’

Louisa looked at her, not wanting to pry, but hoping she would say more.

‘Why do I have the bathhouse, is that what you’re asking yourself?’ Consuela said. She gazed out to sea for a moment, smiling distantly to herself as she absently stroked Louisa’s hand. ‘It is there for the enjoyment of my friends,’ she said softly. ‘It gives them great pleasure, helps them to relax from the stresses of their lives and their marriages, in an atmosphere of soothing calm and of course discretion. This sort of thing has been available to men for as far back as any of us can remember, so why should it not be available to women?’

Louisa shrugged, as if to say, why not indeed?

‘But that doesn’t really answer your question, does it?’ Consuela went on. ‘The reason that I do not indulge myself in its pleasures is really very complex and one that I have no wish to burden you with. I trust Jake saw you home safely,’ she added casually, taking a sip of water.

‘Yes, thank you,’ Louisa answered. She paused, then no longer able to curb her curiosity she said, ‘Is he – is he a relative of yours?’

Consuela laughed. ‘Jake’s family and mine go back over many years,’ she answered. ‘We know each other well.’ Her eyes were dancing with humour. ‘Do I detect an interest?’ she said.

‘No, no, not at all,’ Louisa assured her.

‘And what about Danny? They’ve seen each other once or twice, I hear. Is she smitten with him yet?’

‘I don’t know,’ Louisa answered, inwardly reacting to the ‘once or twice’. She hadn’t known for sure whether or not Danny had seen Jake again after the first time, but it seemed that she had – and that Jake had mentioned it to Consuela.

‘Maybe it is he who is smitten with her,’ Consuela laughed, giving Louisa a conspiratorial wink. ‘That’ll be hard for Jake to take if it’s true, he’s not used to having things that way round. But maybe you should warn Danny to take care. He has something of a reputation for breaking hearts and I should hate to see her unhappy.’

‘If you knew Danny better,’ Louisa said, forcing herself to smile, ‘I’m sure you’d agree she can take care of herself.’

‘I’m sure she can,’ Consuela said, picking up her wine. ‘But if I were you I’d give Señor Morandi a call, because it won’t hurt to have Danny’s mind a little more occupied than it is.’

Later that night Louisa and Sarah were sitting quietly on the terrace, sipping rosé wine and watching the tiny crackles of light from the fire-flies.

‘So what do you think?’ Louisa said, having just recounted her conversation with Consuela.

‘I’m not sure,’ Sarah answered. ‘There’s obviously something going on, I mean after what Jean-Claude said to you about Jake and now with Consuela trying to get you to warn Danny off him.’

She turned to look at Louisa, studying her gentle profile in the subdued light of the terrace.

‘Did Danny say where she was going tonight?’ Louisa asked, still watching the fire-flies.

‘Yes.’

Louisa allowed a few seconds to tick by before saying. ‘Well, I guess that answers my question. Did he call her, do you know?’

‘I didn’t hear the phone so I don’t know what their arrangements were.’ She paused for a moment, sensing how badly Louisa was feeling. ‘You haven’t told me what happened between the two of you the other night,’ she prompted.

Louisa’s lips pursed at the corners as she looked down at her wine. ‘Nothing happened,’ she said. ‘We kissed on the side of the road, as you know, and that was it.’

Sarah looked perplexed, clearly not sure whether or not to push a little harder.

Louisa lifted her glass and drank. She desperately wanted to confide in Sarah, and since Danny was with Jake again tonight she didn’t see any reason why she shouldn’t. Except what was there to say that wasn’t going to make her look the prize fool that she was?

‘I take it you do still feel the same way about him?’ Sarah probed gently.

Louisa shrugged. ‘I told you, Consuela thinks he’s probably besotted with Danny and since they’re obviously together again tonight, I guess that just about wraps it up for me, wouldn’t you say?’

There wasn’t much Sarah could say about that so changing the subject slightly she said, ‘I think we should go and see this Morandi guy.’

Louisa turned to her in surprise. ‘I didn’t think you were interested in getting back into TV.’

Sarah shrugged. ‘I’m not particularly, but swanning around here with nothing much to occupy our minds isn’t really working, is it? And who knows, he might come up with something that will make me change my mind.’

Jake was stretched out along the saloon deck box, his feet resting on a dorade as he idly smoked a cigarette and gazed up at the night sky. The crew had gone ashore and he was relishing these rare moments of solitude. Somewhere inside the port a party was in full swing, but the noise was no more intrusive than the gentle slap of the waves against the hull. His mind was so distant from these shores that it had suspended the reality of his surroundings, just as the events in his life had suspended the joy of untroubled thought.

Taking a last draw on his cigarette, he cast it into the sea and swung himself up into a sitting position. His expression was hard, almost angry, his fists were clenched. He looked out across the sea and seeing the lights of the Carmichael’s yacht disappearing into the horizon a grim smile twisted his mouth.

Hearing the gentle chug of an engine he glanced back towards the port. Bob was on his way back, though earlier than expected. There was someone in the dinghy with him and when Jake realized who it was he started to laugh.

He stayed where he was waiting for them to come aboard, then with no more than a cursory glance in Danny’s direction he looked at Bob.

Bob muttered in Danny’s ear while her sultry eyes slaked Jake’s body, her lips curving in a slow, promising smile. When Bob had finished she turned, sauntered across the deck and with a lingering glance back over her shoulder she descended the gleaming, varnished steps into the luxurious cabins of the Valhalla.

‘Well?’ Jake said when she’d gone.

Bob reached inside his shirt and drew out a thick wad of bank notes. Jake took it, flicked it, then tucked it inside his own shirt. ‘Anything else?’ he said.

Bob looked at him for a moment before answering. ‘She was in Guadalajara three days ago,’ he said.

Jake’s eyes became suddenly hard and the shock that passed through him was visible. ‘Where’s Fernando now?’ he asked.

‘On his way to Guadalajara.’

‘Is he sure it was her?’

‘Yeah, he reckons so.’

Jake stared at him, but his thoughts were once again a great distance from the decks of the Valhalla. Then turning abruptly he said, ‘I’m going ashore. Get onto Marianne. Tell her I want to see her, tonight. She knows where I’ll be.’

Bob’s eyes shifted downwards, reminding Jake he had a guest.

‘Tonight,’ Jake repeated then swung himself down into the dinghy.

Bob stood in the darkness with his hands resting on the lifeline, watching the small boat speed across the water. A few minutes later he took a phone from his pocket and called Marianne. That done, he turned towards the coach house. Time now to go deal with Danny Spencer.