Last Resort (21 page)

"And it's your opinion that this editor doesn't know what's really going on there?"

"She doesn't have a clue."

Marielle turned her head to look at him and fixed him with penetratingly seductive eyes.

"So what you have to do, man che'ri,"

she told him,

"is get me into her position."

"Correction, cherie, what you have to do is get yourself into her position."

Marielle put her drink down; then, swinging her legs to the floor, she placed a hand on each of his knees and looked him full in the face.

"All I want here/ she said, in a persuasively throaty whisper,

"is that magazine. Cannes is my home. I have no desire to live or work anywhere but here. Compared with yours, Bobby, that is a small ambition. So, you get me that magazine, then I could be in a position to get you what you want."

Stirling smirked.

"Villers is smart enough to see through you, babe."

154

'Don't you believe it."

"Oh, but I do. I've known that man a long time. I know how he works."

"So why don't you have him where you want him?"

"Because, like I said, he's smart."

"Get me that magazine and I'll hand him to you on a plate."

Stirling laughed long and hard at that.

"Marielle, I sure am glad you're not sharing the sack with me."

"But you know I would,"

she murmured, sliding her hands along his thighs.

"Sure, I know you would. And the next thing it'd be my balls on a plate for David Villers to carve up."

Behind her sunglasses Marielle's eyes darkened. All she wanted was that stupid little magazine, an oracle, a vehicle to make her a celebrity, a voice, an influence right here on the coast. What did she care about the rest of the world? All that mattered to her was this little pocket of paradise where the rich and famous had created a private world of exclusivity and privilege. She wanted to be a part of that, wanted to hold it in her hands and have them pander to her favour as the woman who could lis easily make them a laughing stock as she could build their images as icons of power and wealth. Both David Villers and Robert Stirling had it in their power to give her what she wanted, but as things stood they were prepared to let Penny Moon, that hideously overfed English bitch, take the reins.

But maybe, if Penny knew what David's real intentions for the magazine were, if she were told that she was nothing more than a pawn in a game that was rife with danger, she'd go of her own accord. Unfortunately, though, there was no guarantee of that and since it wasn't a gamble Marielle was prepared to take she turned her attention back to Stirling and tried another approach.

"I don't see why you won't do me this one little favour of getting rid of Penny Moon,"

she said petulantly.

"After

155

all, I've kept my end of the bargain, I'm sleeping with David."

"And that's all you're doing, Marielle,"

he reminded her.

"You got nothing to show me, nothing to tell me; you got zilch, Marielle."

Marielle threw out her hands in exasperation.

"How many times do I have to tell you?"

she cried.

"I need to get closer. I need that editorship if I'm ever going to be able to tell you anything/

"Which means I could be wise to throw in my lot with Penny Moon,"

Stirling commented.

Tou'd be a fool if you did,"

Marielle sneered.

"She won't give you what you want and you know it, or you'd have approached her by now."

Stirling looked impressed.

"Didn't know you had such a thing as powers of deduction, Marielle,"

he smirked.

Marielle looked at him nastily, nevertheless she was pleased to hear that she was correct. Then, deciding to change tactics again, she warmed her expression, moistened her full, rosy lips and shaped them into a sultry pout.

"You'd be surprised what I have, Bobby,"

she purred, unfastening her bikini top and letting it fall to the floor.

"And, after all, what's Penny Moon to you?"

Stirling looked at her; then, yawning, he put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.

"Tell me something, Marielle,"

he said.

"Exactly what are you expecting me to do to get rid of Penny Moon?"

T'm sure you know the answer to that better than I,"

Marielle said huskily.

"No, no, come on, I'm interested. Exactly what is it you're proposing I do here? Send her back to London, or did you have something a little more, how shall we put it, incapacitating, in mind?"

"It's your choice, Bobby,"

Marielle replied, smiling as she trailed her fingers over his legs.

Stirling gave a snort of laughter.

"You been watching too many movies, Marielle,"

he said.

"People like me

156

don't go round incapacitating people unless they need incapacitating. And by my reckoning Penny Moon don't need it."

"But David Villers does, or so you tell me."

"Ah, now Villers is a different matter."

He yawned again.

"But stick around, Marielle - you never know, you might get what you want."

"Is that a promise?"

she challenged, her eyes glowing.

"Shit,"

he groaned.

"Did it sound like one?"

She shook her head.

lust leave Penny Moon's address on the way out,"

he sighed.

"I think I know someone who might be interested."

"And if they're not?"

"Don't push, Marielle/ he told her.

"And these here/ Esther Delaney said, turning another page in her enormous photograph album to reveal several more shots of major Hollywood stars,

"were taken just after the Oscar ceremony last year. That's me, there/ she said, pointing to a frothy-frocked figure standing between Valentino Petralia, who had directed the winning film, and his wife, Claudia, who had starred in it.

"And there I am with John Montana/ she smiled fondly, tucking the capacious sleeve of her long, ivory silk evening gown out of the way.

"Dear boy, he was awfully disappointed not to get best supporting actor and, we all agreed, he really should have."

This is a very impressive collection/ Penny cornmented, meaning it, but also saying it because she sensed how much it would please this extraordinary old lady whose mode of dress was about as subtle as Dame Edna's and was so seriously at odds with her Vera Duckworth face that it was the very eccentricity of it, Penny realized, that was warming her to the woman.

Indeed, Esther Delaney beamed.

"It's my pride and joy/ she said, laying the album down and picking up her 157

glass of red wine from the coffee table. Though she didn't appear to be drinking much, her speech was slightly slurred and the stain on her lips told Penny that she'd probably been at it for quite some time before Penny had arrived.

"I hope you don't mind me asking/ Penny said, T?ut how do you come to know all these people?"

For a moment Esther seemed perplexed, then out in the kitchen the cooker gave a timely buzz and she jumped to her feet.

"Dinner's ready,"

she said.

"I do hope you like salmon. It's a little recipe of my own, you know."

"Can I do something to help?"

Penny offered.

"No, no. You just stay right where you are and finish your drink. Everything's under control."

Left alone in the sitting room, where a cooling evening breeze was drifting in through the open windows, Penny looked around at the fake-Victoriana that cluttered the surfaces. On closer inspection, however, she thought that maybe some of them were the genuine article. It would make sense, seeing Wally was into antiques - though she was sure he'd mentioned something about oriental crafts. Still, that aside, what really didn't make much sense was all this hobnobbing Esther Delaney was doing with the rich and famous. Unless, of course, she was supplying them with antiques. Penny grimaced. It didn't feel like a particularly satisfactory explanation, but all things being equal it might just have sufficed had Wally not tried so hard to rouse her curiosity the night he'd come over to repair the light.

That was weeks ago now and since Esther's bombardment of invitations had ceased after a few weeks, with so much else on her mind Penny had all but forgotten about her neighbours. She'd also forgotten, she now realized, exactly what Wally had said about his antique business, but now she had met Esther she was reminded of how he had made some kind of derogatory remark about his wife in an attempt to make himself look big. Penny had 158

never had any time for men who did that and was of the opinion that it was only those who knew that their wives had a lot more going for them than they did who indulged in such repugnant disloyalty. And added to that, as Sammy had said, there was something, apart from the physical, that was fundamentally unpleasant about the man.

However, a chance meeting with Esther at the gates a couple of mornings ago, when Esther had been all decked out in a Rita Hayworth-style peignoir and fluffy white mules, not to mention a diamond necklace, had produced another invitation, and hearing that Wally was away Penny had accepted. And now she was glad she had come, even though she'd been dreading it all day, since it was giving Esther such obvious pleasure to have her here.

As Esther came bustling in with the meal Penny got up to help her, taking Esther's matches from the table to light the candles.

"Oh gosh, silly me, I forgot about them,"

Esther chuckled.

"Such a good girl. Now, you sit here at the head of the table and I shall sit here next to you. Would you like some more wine? Yes, yes, of course you would."

She giggled.

"I've plundered Wally's cellar for something special,"

she confided, "but shush, not to tell him."

"My lips are sealed,"

Penny smiled.

"Incidentally, where are all the puppies? I didn't notice them when I came in."

"Oh dear,"

Esther said, looking suddenly downcast. Wally took them to the Zoo Market in VilleneuveLoubet. Said we couldn't keep them. Too many, you know."

As Esther's head went down Penny wondered if she was crying and sure enough as she searched for something appropriate to say Esther pulled a white, lace-edged handkerchief from her sleeve and gave her nose a delicate little blow.

159

'Said he took them to the Zoo Market/ she went on brokenly.

"But they were mongrels. No one wants mongrels. Afraid he's had them all put down."

Then, lifting her head, she plastered a sunny smile to her face and said,

"But we don't want to talk about those sort of things, do we? Let's talk about you. I'm sure you must have a very interesting life."

With Esther being such an appreciative audience Penny found herself doing most of the talking as they ate, entering into the kind of name-drop routine that normally repelled her, but doing it because it was so clearly what Esther wanted to hear. It was uncanny, she was thinking, when Esther finally got up to make coffee, this desire she had to please the old lady, and she wondered if it had something to do with trying in some way to make up for the way Wally treated her. Not that she had much evidence of ill-treatment - perhaps oppression was a better word - it was just something she sensed and it was making her feel quite protective towards Esther. Nevertheless, she wasn't much inclined to make these cosy little evenings a regular event, for it wasn't hard to see how easily Esther could become attached to her and, like her as she did, Penny didn't particularly relish the idea of playing surrogate daughter to a woman whose childless state was so obviously at the root of her desire to befriend her - as well as what was turning her to the bottle.

"Where did you say Wally was?"

she asked, as Esther set a tray of coffee on the ornate table between the sofa and armchairs.

"Oh, he's in Toulouse,"

Esther answered, going over to the little bar to fetch a bottle of Courvoisier and two balloon glasses.

"Not for me, thanks,"

Penny said with a smile, as Esther started to pour.

"I have to work tomorrow. When's he coming back?"

"On Wednesday. Oh, that's the telephone!"

she said, as

160

though needing to explain what the noise was.

"Do excuse me, dear. I won't be long."

When she came back she poured herself a large measure of brandy; then, perching on the edge of an armchair, she said,

"So, you're going to the vernissage the baron is holding for his latest protege? How perfectly splendid for you. You know, everyone who's anyone will be there. It really is quite the invitation to have."

"Will you be there?"

Penny asked, taking a sip of coffee.

Tvle! Heavens above, no!"

she laughed.

"I only socialize with the old duffers. Nice bunch, of course, but not very exciting."

"Unlike the people you mix with when you travel,"

Penny responded, glancing at the photograph album that was still on the table.

Esther's eyes widened, as though realizing she had said something she perhaps ought not to have. In fact, she really ought not to have shown Penny the album at all, but she hadn't been able to resist it, not when she so very much wanted Penny to know that she was a little bit more than just the silly old woman who lived next door.

Her lips formed a tremulous smile as she looked into Penny's eyes.

"You won't tell Wally I showed you the album, will you?"

she said.

"Not if you don't want me to/ Penny answered.

"But why wouldn't you want him to know?"

Esther looked momentarily baffled. Then her eyes lit up as she seemed to find an answer.

"He gets cross when I show people,"

she said.

"Says it's showing off."

She glanced off to one side; then, bringing her eyes back to Penny's, she smiled again.

"This has been such a splendid evening,"

she said brightly. T do hope we can do it more often. I don't get much opportunity to spend time with young people since Billy died. Well, why would anyone want to spend time with me? I'm such a silly old 161