Sleeping Cruelty (25 page)

‘Oh, yeah, that’s great,’ James said closing his eyes. Nina bent low and whispered into his ear, ‘I can also provide any substances you require.’

His eyes sprang open just as the top button of her stretched white tunic released itself. His already swollen cock was upright now, like a gun primed to shoot.

*

Matlock was lying on the vast bed, wearing just a short cotton dressing-gown. Unlike his wife, he paid little attention to the elegant suite. She crossed the room now to open the floor-to-ceiling Gothic windows. With the touch of a button, the electric blinds glided back into virtually hidden alcoves to reveal the large patio. It was partly shaded with tropical plants and a striped awning around a private dining area, leaving the other side bathed in bright sunlight. Two sun-loungers were laid out and a chilled bottle of champagne with two glasses stood in the shade on a small marble table.

‘Nothing has been overlooked,’ Angela said softly.

‘What?’ her husband enquired, tossing aside the brochure. It made him feel as if he was supposed to put in a bid for the place. ‘What was that?’ he barked to his wife.

‘One’s every need is catered for,’ she said, shading her eyes to look down to the glistening water then upwards to the cliffs. Matlock came to stand beside her and saw James way below walking with Max. ‘He’s really going to enjoy himself,’ she said.

‘We all are, darling. That invitation was heaven-sent. It’s so rare for us all to be together. I’m glad I changed my mind about coming – it would have been a shame to miss all this, and I’m sure there’s some great fishing to be had, deep sea. I’d love to try my hand at that.’

‘Yes, I’m sure.’ Angela’s calm exterior belied the fact that she had had to take extra Valium to prepare herself to face William.

Matlock changed the subject. He didn’t want to give her the real reason for changing his mind: two weeks with the Prime Minister and his biggest competitor had been too good an opportunity to miss. ‘Apparently there’s a damned good library and gymnasium. Must say that is one hell of a pool,’ he said.

There was a knock on the door. Angela went to open it. It was Dahlia. ‘Just checking you have everything you want,’ she said.

‘A cup of tea,’ yelled Matlock. ‘Good old English tea.’

‘Everything’s lovely. I was just going to take a shower.’ Angela
nodded to Dahlia. ‘Thank you so much for unpacking. It’s something I always loathe doing.’

‘Would you care for a massage?’ Dahlia asked. ‘I am a fully trained masseuse, ma’am, reflexology and therapeutic herbal massage.’

‘Another time, perhaps.’ Angela was unable to meet Dahlia’s direct gaze: for some reason she couldn’t identify the maid unnerved her.

‘Very well. I’ll order tea. Would fifteen minutes leave enough time for your shower?’

‘Oh, good heavens, yes. Thank you.’

Dahlia closed the door and left. Angela looked out on to the veranda, but her husband was already snoring. She had wanted to ask him when they were to meet William, but decided against it. They would confront each other at dinner.

The Baroness, wearing a white bikini, her hair tied up in a flowered scarf, lay with her eyes closed in the jacuzzi. She loved the feel of the herb-scented water as it massaged her body. She had a second glass of champagne at her elbow and one of the white-coated servants had unobtrusively placed a small platter of canapés beside her. She sighed. This really was perfection.

‘You should see the gymnasium,’ her husband said, perching on the side of the jacuzzi. ‘It’s better equipped than any place I have ever been to, and the instructor seems pleasant. He’s from Berlin.’

‘Really?’ she said, eyes closed.

‘I’m going to work out while I’m here,’ said the Baron, accepting a glass of champagne from the same hovering servant. ‘According to Kurt, I could still lose some weight. When you get to my age, it gets harder to lose those few extra pounds.’

He accepted a fresh platter of canapés and, despite his talk on weight-loss, began to eat them.

‘Where’s Max?’ his wife asked, yawning.

‘I have no idea. He went off with the Matlocks’ son, James. He’s a good-looking boy, isn’t he?’

His wife’s eyes opened and she squinted up at him quizzically. ‘A word of warning: be careful.’

‘For God’s sake, I only said James was good-looking.’

‘I know you and your good-looking boys.’

‘But he’s Max’s friend.’

‘Hasn’t stopped you before, has it? But this time just remember whose son he is. Those two are so prudish, and if you cross him he’ll crucify you on the front page of so many newspapers.’ She sighed with impatience. ‘He did it to William Benedict and look what happened to him!’

‘Judging from this place, that scandal didn’t hurt him.’

‘Perhaps not, but tread carefully. He must have a hidden agenda. Why else would he ask us here? Maybe he wants to do business again. Let’s hope so.’

They had shelled out thousands to pay the press to keep his homosexual dalliances private and his wife had protected him for years. The Baron’s face tightened as she continued languidly, ‘I’m surprised he wasn’t waiting to greet us with a sledgehammer, considering the way you backed out of that deal.’

‘All’s fair in love and business deals,’ he snapped.

‘I’m sure it is. I just wish you had a little of his success. I presume that was why you accepted the invitation, in the hope of getting into bed with him, so to speak.’

‘For God’s sake don’t start. Don’t you think that maybe, just maybe, he wants to get into bed with me? In a business capacity, obviously.’ He made no mention to her of the legal case he was fighting with Benedict. His lawyers had suggested that this trip might be a good opportunity to discuss it, perhaps in an informal way.

‘I say! This is all rather lovely, isn’t it?’ Angela Matlock was wearing a large-brimmed sun-hat, a pale lemon dress and flat white sandals. She carried a straw basket with her cross stitch sticking out of it. ‘It’s a little too hot for me in the sun. I’ll sit in
the shade. I can’t go too far, Humphrey’s sleeping. He hates it if I’m not close when he wakes.’

In the control room, his feet up on the console, Justin spoke into the mike.

‘William?’

‘Yup,’ came the crackly reply.

‘You in position?’

‘Yup, I’m in the charter-boat. We’re just inside the two rocks.’

‘Then this is your call for onstage,’ he said.

‘Roger!’ said William.

‘Roger yourself!’ replied Justin, then hesitated. ‘Hang on, what are you wearing?’

‘What you and Dahlia put out for me.’

He was about to describe his clothes when Justin cut him off with ‘Break a leg.’

The Baroness stepped out of the jacuzzi, selected a robe from the pool-side table and put it on. She looked around and then decided to sit at the far end of the pool, beneath a yellow striped awning near Angela Matlock.

‘Who else is expected?’ she asked Angela. ‘Have you any idea?’

‘I’m not sure, but the place is big enough to accommodate goodness knows how many. Have you seen William Benedict yet?’

‘No, I presume he’ll be at dinner, though,’ mused the Baroness. ‘Does Justin Chalmers count as a guest? Or is he staff?’

Angela pointed towards the sea. ‘It looks as though someone is arriving,’ she said, reaching for her glasses.

The Baron strolled over to join them. ‘Boat coming in,’ he said.

William stepped out of the cabin and looked up at the island. Dahlia was on the quay waiting, her hand held out to guide him down the ramp. They saw him kiss her cheeks.

‘Oh, my God! Is that his latest? His housekeeper!’ the Baroness said sarcastically, then leaned forward.

Angela shrivelled into her cross stitch. With every fibre of her body she wanted to see him, but she refused to look.

Matlock woke with a start when he heard the powerful engines of the boat at the dock. He was sweating like a pig and had spent too much time in the sun. He swore, wrapped a towel around himself and stood up in time to see William step into the waiting buggy and head for the house. He sat like a king, tanned and relaxed, smiling: a happy man.

In the control room, Justin was applauding. ‘Bloody Oscar-winning stuff,’ he said, into the mike. ‘I’ll see you after dinner. Just do as instructed, then meet up at the westerly cove. Now I’ve got to set some tapes recording . . .’

‘My God, he looks like something out of a movie. How many servants has the man got, for heaven’s sake?’ asked the Baron, downing the rest of his champagne. ‘Certainly splashing his money around, as if he was printing it himself.’

They all laughed. Within moments, they were joined by Cedric Hangerford, who’d been monitoring William’s arrival from his own veranda. ‘Typical of that jumped-up parvenu,’ said Cedric.

At that moment, Humphrey Matlock appeared. ‘I see our host has arrived. Rather like Anthony Steele in one of those sixties movies.’ He laughed.

Angela couldn’t help thinking that William looked rather good. Then she remembered how much he had hurt her, ignored her, treated her like a nobody. Seeing him again had unsettled her. She reached out and patted her husband’s arm. ‘You look very hot, darling,’ she said.

‘A few lengths will cool me down,’ he replied, turned and drived into the pool with a tremendous splash.

Angela watched her husband swimming up and down and
recalled her first meeting with him. At first she’d found him loud-mouthed and frightening, but she’d soon discovered his deep-seated insecurities. It was a touching evening when he told her that he longed to better himself. He knew he was going to be successful and he wanted, or needed, someone like her to smooth off his rough edges. ‘Excuse me,’ he had said, ‘if I’m a bit unrefined. I don’t have your high-society connections.’

She’d laughed and told him the truth: her family was middle class with social aspirations. They’d saved every penny they had to send her to Roedean, so that she would meet all the right ‘gels’. But despite that, Angela was still a greengrocer’s daughter. Her elongated vowels and Sloane style were cultivated. She’d told him how frightened she was of love. She said she had been in love before, but she’d been hurt. Twice. Later that evening Humphrey told her all about his childhood, told her things he had never mentioned to another living soul. It was as if they had found sanctuary with each other. Six months later they married.

In many ways, Matlock was like William. He had the same insecurities and the same need to be educated in the social graces. But, unlike William, Matlock had married Angela. Perhaps deep down, though, Angela always knew that for her Humphrey Matlock was second best. As the years progressed, she learned to put up with his moods, his aggression and his terrifying temper. He grew more and more successful and Angela felt the need to hide herself in his shadow. She knew about his mistresses, nothing ever escaped her, but she felt this was a cross she had to bear. She doted on her son, but at times she couldn’t help seeing he was a mirror image of his father.

Sinking deep into depression, Angela’s hatred of William resurfaced. She was a woman who appeared to have everything, but in truth had nothing. She had a wretched, loveless marriage, for which she blamed William. He had taken her youth and love, and had humiliated her twice. She had waited many years to repay him. She had badly wanted to hurt him and she had used her husband to do so. It was reading about Andrew
Maynard’s death that had set it off. She urged her husband to dig deep, to ruin William, even hurt him through his own family. When he questioned her obsession, she murmured only that he owed her: she had turned a blind eye to his own philandering. Matlock had laughed and then, of course, had obliged.

Chapter Fifteen

T
he next day dawned with a cloudless azure sky and just enough breeze to blow away the humidity. The guests explored the island, swam, rode the jet-skis, played tennis, worked out in the gym. Now they gathered on the veranda overlooking the jetty for tea. Plates of sandwiches, pastries, muffins and fruit were placed in the shaded buffet area, with every conceivable variety of tea: Assam, Formosa Oolong, Orange Pekoe, Earl Grey, and herbal. They chattered excitedly, sharing their day’s discoveries, all relaxed and enjoying the food. They turned as a powerful speedboat appeared on the horizon, heading for the island’s jetty, the boys running hot-foot to welcome the new arrival.

The guests shaded their eyes against the sun to stare.

‘Here comes someone else,’ Cedric Hangerford stated unnecessarily, as the boat’s engines were cut. To Matlock’s disappointment, only one figure could be seen, and it was that of a woman.

Laura remained in the stern of the boat, her eyes shaded by dark glasses, an ice blue chiffon scarf draped around her head, matching her Chanel shift. The staff hurried to remove her Louis Vuitton suitcases, but she remained a serene figure.
Extending one slender hand to a waiting boy, she stepped from the boat in a fluid movement, like a dancer. As if in slow motion, she unravelled her trailing scarf and her white-blonde hair swirled around her shoulders as perfectly as if she had been in a shampoo advertisement. Laura was not tanned: her skin was translucent, pale, like that of some exotic ice maiden.

Max let out a long sigh of admiration. ‘My God, she’s so beautiful . . . like a mirage.’

The Baroness gasped and turned to her husband. ‘Isn’t that . . . it is, isn’t it?’

‘What?’ said the Baron, buttering a scone.

‘Laura. It’s Laura Chalmers.’

The Baron looked up, butter trickling down his chin.

‘Justin’s sister, remember? We met her once at Grimaud.’

‘Ghastly temper,’ the Baron said, holding his empty teacup for Kiki to refill. ‘You remember Christa, that evening when she appeared like a Hollywood Oscar in that gold lamé dress?’

‘There’s Benedict again,’ shouted Hangerford, grabbing the binoculars.

William was walking casually down the jetty, and they saw the beautiful woman turn, and then, to their astonishment, fall into his embrace. To even further amazement, they watched the couple kiss.

‘Bloody hell, she’s young enough to be his daughter,’ spluttered Hangerford. ‘The dirty old sod. After all that scandal, I think I’d have shot myself if I was him. But look at him!’

They all expected Laura and William to join them for tea, but by five thirty, they had not made an appearance, so they drifted off to their various suites to digest the day and rest before dinner.

Dinner was well attended that night. The Baron and Baroness were seated at a table for four with Cedric and Daphne Hangerford. The Matlocks were at an adjoining table with their son James. Max and Clarissa sat at a table by the open balcony doors. The main dining table, which could seat twenty, remained
empty, save for two Mexican silver candlesticks that stood in the centre. A mellow light threw shadows around the wall, enhancing the oil paintings and tapestries and making the suit of armour shimmer. The room could just as easily have been in England, Austria or Russia; the ambience was theatrical.

The guests, including the younger ones, had all dressed up, the women in long gowns and the men in dark suits, except the Baron, who wore a white dinner-jacket with a white bow tie. A boy sat in a corner, quietly strumming bossanovas on his guitar. The waiters moved around quietly and efficiently. The wine flowed and the level of conversation lifted as each group relaxed and enjoyed their dinner. Nobody could fault the food, except the Baroness, who only took one spoonful of her avocado and lime soup.

The diners had all but forgotten their host when the door opened and he walked in. Momentarily the room fell silent. Then an animated conversation began again. William led Laura to her table like a lover. She did not acknowledge anyone and sat with her back to the room. William fussed over her, making sure her chair was in the right position. She wore a delicate gown of silver chiffon, which fell loosely from a halter neck and swirled like gossamer. Her blonde hair was braided down her back and tied with a fine silver ribbon. Her shoes were silver, with a spiked heel and a band of silver leather around the ankle.

The adults were impressed, but disguised it by continuing to talk. The younger guests stared openly. William was wearing a white dinner-jacket, with a black, tight-collared shirt and well-cut black trousers. Now, at last, he turned to his guests. Moving around with an elegant confidence, he shook hands with them all, apologizing for not having been there to greet them but explaining he had had pressing business meetings. He came last to Angela and Matlock.

‘Angela, what a long time it has been. I can’t tell you how delighted I am that you accepted my invitation.’

Angela’s cheeks flushed as his hand reached for hers. When
he kissed her fingertips, she had trouble breathing and had to gulp before she was able to speak. ‘You look better than ever,’ she said nervously.

‘Thank you. And this must be your husband. I don’t believe we’ve actually met. I am delighted that you and your family are here. I do hope you enjoy my island.’

Matlock’s voice boomed, ‘It’s a paradise, wonderful place. This is my son James. James! Say good evening to your host. William Benedict, James Matlock.’

But James could not stop looking across the room at the wonderful naked back opposite him. He drank in the woman’s every move as she picked up a glass – filled, James presumed, with the champagne his parents were guzzling – and sipped it.

‘James, dear, do stop staring,’ Angela said softly.

‘Nice to meet you, sir,’ James said eventually, and William smiled warmly as his eyes, like James’s, turned back to Laura.

Then William rejoined Laura and took her hand to help her rise. ‘One of the main reasons I invited you all here, and we are hoping more guests will join us shortly, is because I wanted to introduce to you the love of my life. She is soon to be my wife: Laura.’

Laura gave a dazzling but demure smile, as William paraded her from table to table. She rested an arm around William’s back as she walked. On her hand glistened a diamond ring that made the Baroness gasp. William raised his glass. ‘A toast to my darling. She has made me the happiest man alive. To Laura.’

They all lifted their glasses, and Laura cupped his face between her hands and kissed him, before turning back to implore them gently, ‘Please, continue eating, we’ve interrupted your dinner long enough. Come and sit down, darling.’

Clarissa Hangerford also kept her eyes on Laura, but with a look of envy. She had been getting on well with both James and Max and had been secretly hoping for a fling with one, if not both of them, though Justin of course would be preferable to both. But seeing this gorgeous creature had shattered all her
confidence. She had blonde hair too, but of quite a different type: it didn’t shine like Laura’s, and swimming had made it frizzy and dry. Clarissa had also caught the sun, and was blotchy, red and sore. The gown Laura was wearing was any young girl’s dream, and Clarissa wondered how on earth it stayed up with just a tiny strap around her neck. It made her own white cotton dress seem dowdy. She looked down at herself and noticed that it was already crumpled, with a nasty crease running around the waist. She immediately hated her thick-soled, trendy platform shoes, which she was sure made her feet look enormous.

Clarissa’s dinner companion, Max, had already decided he was in love with Laura, but believed her to be beyond his reach. He had returned to his hamburger and French fries. His parents rarely, if ever, allowed him to eat such fatty foods and his mother would not have a bottle of ketchup in the house. He ate with rare relish. Clarissa munched fried chicken and salad, but delved constantly into Max’s chips.

Max appeared not to notice, his eyes glued to Laura’s exquisite back. ‘Is she a movie star?’ he whispered to Clarissa.

‘I dunno. If she is, I’ve never seen her in anything and didn’t your oh-so-elegant mother tell you it’s rude to stare with your mouth open?’ Then, unable to contain herself, ‘How old do you think she is?’ she whispered.

‘No idea,’ said Max, as he moved his wine glass to the left, to enable the waiter to refill it. He glanced at his parents to see if they were monitoring him, but they were deep in conversation. As he turned back to the table, he saw James cast him a rueful look and tap his glass of mineral water. Unlike the Baron, his father watched over him like a hawk, and as he’d been caught drunk recently, he had to be on his best behaviour . . .

Laura was served a green salad, followed by a Dover sole. Max watched the way she held her cutlery and wished he could feed her morsel by morsel. James was still staring too and his mother had to kick him beneath the table as his father asked him about his exam results for a second time.

He was stoned. Knowing he would not be allowed to drink, he had rolled a spliff before coming down to dinner. At first he had not felt the effects, but now, confronted by his father’s burning red face, he did.

‘I’m sorry, Dad, what did you say?’

‘We must discuss your last exam results, James, because if you need extra tuition we should arrange it before you return next term.’

‘Oh, well, yes, but you know part of my problem was being on the rowing team. It meant I had to do so much practice in the mornings and evenings it didn’t leave all that much time for cramming for the exams.’

‘I thought it was tennis,’ Matlock said, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

‘Yeah, well, I’m in the first team for that as well,’ James lied. He hadn’t played for months and the rowing team had dumped him.

Matlock sighed and looked at his wife as she toyed with her food.

‘Don’t you like it?’

‘It’s delicious. I’m just not very hungry.’

Matlock looked across at the intimate couple, and leaned closer to his wife. ‘Making a damned fool of himself with the girl. What did he say her name was?’ he whispered, too loudly.

‘Keep your voice down,’ she hissed.

‘Do you always have to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do, for Christ’s sake? They can’t hear me.’

‘I’m sorry, I’ve got a headache.’

‘Yes, a permanent one,’ he snarled, and she cringed into her seat.

The dessert trolley was wheeled in, laden with sweets so tempting that even the Baroness could not resist. As the boy with the guitar began to sing softly, Laura kissed William lovingly and slipped out of the room.

‘Will you all excuse us?’ asked William, as he drew back his chair and followed her.

As soon as they left, the dining room broke into loud conversation, like the tidal wave after a dam has broken.

‘Well, where on earth did he find that little filly?’ Hangerford wondered aloud.

Matlock was more concerned with when the PM was expected, not to mention the other guests he had been told would be joining them. But no one appeared to know and the abundance of such exquisite food became the focus of all their attention.

‘How’s my princess?’ whispered Justin, as his sister hugged him tightly, giggling.

‘You should have seen their faces. We were so good, weren’t we, Willy?’

William kissed her cheek. He felt like a conspiratorial child. ‘I am having a good time. What a pompous, fat-arsed man that Matlock is . . . and I did such an elegant eye-to-eye with his wife. To think I almost married her. Dear God!’

Justin looked at Laura then back at William. ‘It’s phase two now. Time to make yourself scarce.’

‘Oh, no! Can’t you give me another day?’

‘No. Don’t start messing around with the schedule, it was all agreed. You can’t back out of it now. And, anyway, you decided it, William.’

‘But I don’t want to miss the fun.’

‘You won’t, and as it’s all recorded you’ll have it for posterity. If you’re here it’ll hold things up.’ William sighed. ‘Make yourself scarce, you old bugger. It was your idea, so get your arse out of here and let the fun and games begin. Besides, it’ll keep them waiting for the extra guests who aren’t going to appear,’ said Justin, pushing William through a door.

Before disappearing, William turned and blew a camp kiss. ‘Knock ’em for six,’ he said, and was gone. But just to make sure he didn’t change his mind, Justin kept the monitor running, watching as he made his way out through the back corridors.

‘I’ll not start on the younger ones,’ said Laura quietly. ‘They’ll be too easy. I think I’ll go for his lordship first. Then I’ll work my way to Angela. Is that okay?’

‘Save the pig Matlock until last. Make him beg,’ said Justin quietly, his eyes on the screen. William was in one of the golf carts being driven down to the jetty where the boys were waiting to take him off the island.

‘Of course he has to be last. I’m not stupid.’

Justin switched the monitor screen to the main hallway. ‘Here they come. Go into the lounge and be waiting.’ He left her side to welcome the guests as they drifted up the stairs into the drawing room for coffee and liqueurs. As they entered the light, airy room, their bellies full, tired from the day in the sun and the sumptuous dinner, they were surprised to see Laura, who looked ravishingly fresh. Justin made a show of serving coffee alongside the servants, but was watching Laura as the men moved closer, like bees to honey.

Max looked into her eyes then immediately dropped his gaze, even though she said no more than how pleased she was that he had come to the island. She eased away from Max and moved on to James, then to Clarissa. When she shook Cedric Hangerford’s hand, he held hers far too long. He only let go when his wife interrupted them to admire Laura’s gown. The Baron and Baroness mentioned that they had met before. Laura smiled sweetly but made no attempt to recall when or where. The Baroness examined the woman who made her pale into insignificance. She was adept at fast appraisals, and wondered which designer had created such a delicate dress. She reached out and took Laura’s left hand. ‘What a beautiful engagement ring. So simple. I always think diamonds look best with platinum. Who designed it for you?’