Love on the Rocks (13 page)

It wasn’t just the violence Mimi hated Nick for, especially as she sometimes suspected her mother invited it. Victoria could be extraordinarily belligerent, and was an expert at pushing the wrong button, needling people. What Mimi really couldn’t stand was the way he subtly tried to run Victoria down. Little digs about her appearance, which she knew her mother couldn’t take. About looking a little tired, or old, or overweight, knowing that would get to her. And he constantly questioned her judgement at work. If there was one thing Victoria was brilliant at, it was her job. But Nick, media mogul extraordinaire, seemed to think she was merely playing at it. With one cutting remark he could rip her efforts apart. And Victoria just seemed to take his criticism. It was as if she believed every word he said. Without a drink inside her, she had no fight at all.

Gradually Mimi realized that Victoria was falling apart before her very eyes. Not that she’d ever been exactly stable. But even Mimi could see she was heading for a breakdown. Her confidence was fading; she had everything out of perspective. There was nothing for it. Nick had to go.

The bus arrived. Mimi took a deep breath and checked her watch again, praying that the bus would keep to its schedule. If they were late, if Nick had been and gone by the time they got back, then they’d have blown it.

Crossways Farm was a total misnomer. There was no hint that anything had ever been allowed to grow and flourish within its environs. There wasn’t a blade of grass that hadn’t been slabbed over or manicured to within an inch of its life. There were towering remote-control gates, ornamental brickwork and enough automatic security lighting to illuminate Colditz. The house had been completely renovated, with UPVC leaded windows and shiny plastic drainpipes. Needless to say, there were no animals in sight.

At five past one the enormous gates slowly parted. Moments later a black Mercedes sports car zipped through them and headed straight into the centrally heated garage, whose doors had also opened as if by magic. ‘Living on a Prayer’ by Bon Jovi was suddenly cut short. Nick Taverner checked his appearance in the mirror, adjusting his trademark Wayfarer sunglasses, and leaped out.

Crossways Farm was Nick Taverner’s pride and joy. A testament to his wealth, success and good taste. Everything had been done to his specification and it made him feel like a king. He bounded into the kitchen.

‘Hi, Mr Taverner!’ Yasmin was perched on a cowhide stool, swinging her legs and sipping Coke out of a bottle.

‘No school?’

‘Teacher-training afternoon.’

‘Nice work if you can get it.’

Nick pulled open the huge American fridge and surveyed the interior, nodding his head and clicking his fingers to the music that was blaring.

‘Mimi and I were just going to take a jacuzzi?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Why don’t you join us?’ Yasmin looked at him from underneath her fringe.

Nick hesitated. He was due on the golf course in an hour’s time. But he would have to be clinically insane to turn down this offer. He’d seen Yasmin eyeing him up. He felt sure there was more than just a thread of attraction between them. And she was a smart enough kid. She knew how to play the game. He knew that by the way she’d hitched her skirt up in the car last night. She was sending him signals; strong signals.

He pulled a beer out of the fridge, turned and looked Yasmin in the eye. She stared straight back at him boldly. He flashed her a knowing smile.

‘Give me five minutes to get my trunks on.’

It was all Yasmin and Mimi could do not to burst into howls of derisive laughter as, ten minutes later, Nick appeared in a minuscule pair of black trunks. Luckily, he’d not long had a back and chest wax at the health club, and he gave himself a quick run over with some Lancôme
Auto-Bronzant
which hopefully wouldn’t wash off. As he sat down he discreetly checked to see if there was an incipient spare tyre, but felt reassured that his stomach was as flat as could be realistically expected. All those merciless sessions with the ab machine had paid off.

Mimi and Yasmin sat opposite him. He tried not to gawp. He didn’t lech over Mimi; she was too close to home even for him. But Yasmin was something else. With her long dark hair and her eyes like sloes, that dusky skin, those peachy bosoms barely covered by her teeny bikini . . .

Suddenly, Mimi stood up.

‘You know what? I’m actually starving. If I stay in here my blood sugar’s going to drop way too low. I think I’ll go and make us some pasta.’

‘Cool.’ Yasmin nodded her agreement. ‘I’m going to stay in a bit longer. This is really chilling me out.’

Nick cleared his throat.

‘Um – me too. I can feel my muscles starting to relax. But pasta would be great.’

Mimi climbed out of the tub, pulled a towel round her and padded out of the pool area. Nick sat back with his eyes shut, enjoying the sensation of the warm bubbles caressing his body. Suddenly he felt something next to him. A thigh rubbing against his. He opened one eye to see Yasmin looking at him with a dreamy expression in her eyes.

‘You don’t mind if I sit next to you?’

‘No . . .’

Mind? Of course he didn’t mind.

‘I’m sitting right on this jet,’ she breathed. ‘I can’t tell you what it’s doing to me.’ She arched her back in pleasure.

Nick swallowed. What the hell was he supposed to do? He wasn’t sure if it was an invitation. Yasmin put her hands behind her head and pulled the string at the back of her neck. The two tiny triangles fell away.

‘That’s better.’ She smiled. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Um . . . well. Very . . . relaxed.’

‘Just relaxed?’ Her mouth twitched in amusement. It was perfectly plump, pink with gloss. She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, surveying him, her eyes twinkling.

Nick gave a little laugh, not quite sure of the next move. He was being cautious. He didn’t want to come across as a dirty old man. As long as she took the lead, he could justify his actions. He wasn’t going to force himself on her. Suddenly she was sitting on his lap, straddling him, her face up close to his, her breasts perilously close. Her breath smelt minty from her gum, which she was still chewing. He could see specks of gold in her hazel eyes.

‘Golly,’ she said. ‘Hel-lo, Mr Taverner.’

Nick tried a modest, self-deprecating grin. ‘Hello,’ he managed.

Yasmin starting moving herself against him. He thought about absolutely everything in his life that was boring. Recited all his pin numbers and security codes to himself . . .

‘Nick?’

He opened his eyes with a groan, to find Victoria staring straight at him.

‘I didn’t actually touch it,’ said Yas afterwards. ‘I just had to pretend. It never came out of his trunks. I deserve an Oscar. It was all I could do not to laugh in his face. Where’s my moola?’

Mimi counted out her birthday money.

‘I can’t believe your mum has been so calm about it.’

Victoria had just ordered Yasmin out of the jacuzzi, told her to get dressed and called her a taxi. Nick had made some pathetic excuse, about Yasmin being upset and him trying to comfort her, and Victoria had laughed a rather nasty, ominous laugh.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Mimi confidently. ‘It’ll all kick off when you’ve gone. I’ll keep you posted. And thanks.’

She hugged her friend, as the entryphone buzzed. The taxi was at the gates. Mimi pushed the button to open them.

‘I better go,’ said Yas. ‘Listen, call me if it all gets out of hand. But you know what, you’ve done the right thing. Major creep.’ She stuffed another piece of gum in her mouth. ‘But he’s very well endowed. Maybe that’s why your mother’s hung around so long . . .’

Later that night, Mimi felt slightly sick with guilt, not to mention panic. Her mother was totally distraught. Mimi was shocked that she was so surprised. To her, even at seventeen, it was blindingly obvious that Nick was a womanizer: Yasmin was by no means the first he had fallen prey to. A stupendous two-hour screaming match had ended up with Victoria shrieking her final ultimatum.

‘I want you out of this house!’

Nick’s eyes were flinty. He smiled mirthlessly.

‘But this is
my
house,’ he pointed out reasonably. ‘If you’ve got a problem with my behaviour, you’re the one who has to go.’

‘Where are we supposed to go?’

‘I’ll phone a hotel. I’ll book you in for a week. That should give you enough time to find someone else to live off. You’re a fast worker.’

And so it was that Victoria and Mimi found themselves in a nasty hotel room with twin beds, orange eiderdowns and brown curtains. Victoria immediately popped two Temazepam and was out like a light.

Mimi sat in the semi-darkness, chewing the already ragged flesh at the edge of her nails. At eleven o’clock she finally summoned up the nerve to pick up her phone and dial the number that she had never forgotten.

‘Sorry, but the number you have dialled is no longer available.’ The woman from BT sounded firm and authoritative. Mimi dialled again, thinking she must have made a mistake in her haste. But the message was the same. Her heart racing, Mimi put the phone down. She looked over at Victoria, the slight rise and fall of the bedcover the only indication that she was still alive.

Her mum had put all her eggs in Nick’s basket. Mimi wasn’t totally familiar with her business affairs, but she knew her PR company had been taken over by Nick’s conglomerate, and that Victoria worked exclusively for him now. He wasn’t exactly going to expect her in the office first thing in the morning.

No job. No money. Nowhere to live. And the lifeline Mimi had been depending on, from the moment she hatched the plan, had been cut off.

Maybe the number had just been changed. She tried directory enquiries.

‘I’m sorry – it’s ex-directory,’ the operator informed her.

‘Please. It’s terribly important. It’s a matter of life and death.’

‘I’m sorry.’

Mimi slammed down the receiver and put her head in her hands. She should have thought this plan through. She should have guessed there would be a hiccup. Everything had gone so smoothly until now. Nick had taken the bait; her mother had reacted just as predicted. But the plan was nothing without the final piece of the jigsaw.

She stood up and reached decisively for her coat. She couldn’t give up now. She scribbled a note for Victoria on some hotel paper, though she was pretty certain her mother wasn’t going to wake up until the morning. Then she went out to reception to order a taxi. Luckily Nick hadn’t got round to cancelling their cab account, though she didn’t think it would take him long to cut them off without a penny – mobiles, cashpoints, slates in their favourite bars, the petrol. They had a stream of tabs around town. At least Victoria’s car was still in her name, even though she was rarely sober enough to drive it.

The cab glided into Bath and Mimi watched as the pubs emptied, envying the revellers their carefree, drunken journeys home. It was going to be all right, she assured herself. Now she’d proved to her mother just how awful Nick was. That had been the hardest part.

‘Could you wait for me?’ she asked the cab driver as they pulled up outside an elegant three-storey house in the middle of a terrace. There were lights on. Thank goodness someone was in. The seconds felt like hours until the door opened. A woman stood there, short dark hair, slim, attractive. She was frowning, suspicious. As one would be if a distraught-looking teenage girl appeared on your doorstep. Wary of some elaborate scam, she instinctively stood in the crack of the door, in case she was stampeded by a herd of thugs.

‘Yes?’

‘Is George in?’

‘I’m sorry. I think you’ve got the wrong address.’

The woman made to close the door. Mimi stepped forward.

‘No, I haven’t. This is his house. George Chandler?’

‘Oh. George. Of course.’ The woman smiled in realization. ‘I’m sorry. We’ve bought this house off him. Didn’t you know he’d moved?’

Mimi stood rigid with shock.

‘Moved?’ she croaked. ‘Where to?’

‘Sorry. I don’t think I can reveal that information.’

‘You must have an address for him? Or a number?’

‘I’m afraid not. He didn’t leave it. He’s had all his post forwarded.’

The door closed. Mimi walked back over to the cab slowly, as if to the guillotine.

‘I’m going to need some money if you want me to take you back.’ The cabbie was eyeing her suspiciously.

‘It’s on account.’

‘Sorry, love. I’ve just had a call through from the boss. The account’s closed.’

‘But I haven’t got any money on me.’

The driver put his car into first gear, as if he was about to drive away.

‘Then it’s tough.’

Mimi, who was a pretty cool customer, felt an unfamiliar panic. The evening was going from bad to worse.

‘Take me back to the hotel,’ she begged. ‘My mum’s got money.’

‘I’ve heard that one before.’

‘You can’t just leave me here. I’m underage.’

The cabbie looked her up and down.

‘Yeah, right.’

Mimi stamped her foot, foiled by her own attempt to look more grown up than she really was.

‘If I’m found dead in the gutter with my throat cut, it’ll be your fault. Could you live with that?’

The cabbie rolled his eyes. The kid did have a point. On reflection, judging by the way girls dressed these days, she probably was only about fourteen. And he wouldn’t have thanked anyone for leaving his teenage daughter stranded miles from home at nearly midnight.

‘Get in.’

Mimi slid on to the velour seat cover and pulled her coat round her. She was shivering. Cold dread was seeping through her. As the car pulled out of Northampton Street and headed back through the city, she wondered what on earth she was supposed to do now.

L
isa wasn’t entirely sure what all the fuss was about, when people said that selling a house was near the top of the stress list. She’d found it remarkably easy, but then as the estate agent pointed out she had bought sensibly, maintained her properties well and priced them to sell.

‘I wish we had more clients like you,’ he said. ‘Most of them expect to achieve sky-high prices when they can’t even be bothered to vacuum the carpet before the viewers come round.’