Sleeping Cruelty (31 page)

He clasped her to him again. She was saying words that filled him with passion: words he had only dreamed of hearing. Nothing had ever sounded so sweet.

Suddenly Laura pushed him from her. She felt somehow as if she was flying. ‘Wait! I have a plan. The mail-boat docks at our quayside at about six in the evening. We can leave on it.’

‘Tonight?’ Max tingled, either with fear or excitement.

‘No. It comes every other day. It’s due tomorrow. Maybe we’ll be able to leave then. If not, we have to wait just two more days. We can stay over on Tortola and catch a plane first thing the following morning.’ She paced up and down, making brushing motions with her hand, a determined expression on her face. ‘We’ll stay apart until then, and the night we leave we must be careful not to give a clue to anyone, especially not Justin. You pack your bags, I’ll pack mine, and we can leave them hidden close to the jetty. We’ll meet up at Suicide Point. Say that you’re taking a walk, so that no one suspects. I’ll come via the lower path, you take the long route round. No one will be able to see either of us from the house on those routes, and from up there we can see the mail-boat coming in.’

‘But if it always comes at six, why don’t we just hide down there?’

‘It’s never on time, and we’ll have to wait until Justin has collected the mail. He always takes the crew some beer and chats for a while before he brings the mail and the newspapers up to the house. When he’s gone they sit and drink their beer on the boat. That’ll give us time to get on board and leave the island without Justin seeing us or anyone suspecting anything.’

Max was so overcome that he didn’t notice the deviousness of her plan, or that she had been able to make it so quickly. All
he could think about was that she was agreeing to be with him. ‘Until then, we keep apart, ignore each other. We must not give ourselves away.’ Laura was excited, her face glowing, sure she had not overlooked anything. The fact that he was little more than a child and she an adult woman, fifteen years older than him, was unimportant. They were two people infatuated with each other, holding their world in their arms.

‘Whatever you say. I’ll be waiting.’

They kissed and parted, then ran back into each other’s arms and kissed again, neither wanting to let the other go. Eventually Laura made him turn his back and ran until her lungs felt as if they would burst, her hair flying, her skirt caught in her hands above her thighs.

‘We’ll get married!’ he shouted after her, and his voice caught the wind and echoed. But she didn’t hear. He could see her figure darting and jumping, ducking beneath overhanging trees, and then she was gone.

Laura ran full tilt into Humphrey Matlock and lost her balance. He had to catch her or she would have slipped over, dangerously near to the cliff-edge.

‘Dear God, you’re crazy. It’s slippery here,’ he said, still holding her arm. She gasped her thanks. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes danced. She rested against him to regain her balance and catch her breath. ‘I was looking for James,’ he said.

‘He’s gone to Tortola for the evening.’

‘Ah, well,’ he said, towering above her. His black hair was tousled from the wind and his face was even more tanned after another day’s fishing. ‘Are you going back to the house?’ he asked, and she nodded, walking backwards a few feet in front of him.

‘Did you catch anything?’ she asked flippantly.

‘You mean apart from you?’ He smiled. His teeth were large and slightly stained from the cigars he smoked. She could smell brandy on his breath. ‘I didn’t have a good day, but tomorrow
we’re planning to go further afield, start at the crack of dawn. I’ve not enjoyed myself so much in as long as I can remember.’ Matlock went on chatting to her, indicating with his hands the size of the fish he had lost, describing the dolphins and how close they had swum to the boat. Then he stopped and sniffed. ‘God, smell the air, it’s so fresh. But that perfume, it’s all over the island.’

‘It’s lilies, Justin has them shipped in.’ She spoke softly, glancing coyly at him. He looked down into her upturned, exquisite face. She gazed into his dark eyes as he lifted his hand and hooked one finger into the opening of her dress. He drew her a fraction closer. She felt his rough finger run along the lace of her brassière, then he withdrew his hand, afraid that he had gone too far.

‘So you do want me,’ she said softly.

Hoarsely he grunted, ‘Yes.’

‘Maybe one day we’ll do something about it.’ She turned and ran on, leaving him standing there with a huge hard-on, unfulfilled and feeling idiotic.

‘Did you have a good day, darling?’ Angela asked, as he turned on the shower.

‘No.’ He began to strip off his clothes. ‘Caught bugger all.’

Angela looked at her watch. It was already almost eight. ‘You were out a long time.’

‘James didn’t show up. I went to have a talk to him, but he’s gone off to some disco. About all he’s interested in doing.’ He stepped out of his tracksuit. ‘You do anything?’ he asked, not really interested.

‘I had a pleasant day.’ She smiled. ‘Would you like to order dinner before your shower?’

He glowered and said she could order for him, so she walked out of the bathroom. She hated to see him naked. There was something so monstrous about him: with his deep-tanned face and arms and the hideous vest marks over his torso where his skin was still alabaster white. He was grotesque.

She ordered
filet mignon
for them both, a chilled tomato and lime soup and fruit. Then she called Daphne Hangerford to see if she would join them but received no reply, so she tried the Baroness instead.

‘Have you heard?’ drawled the Baroness, excitedly. ‘Cedric Hangerford has gone bankrupt. The stud farm has gone, plus their two homes. It was all over
The Times
! That’s why he ran off from here with his tail between his legs. He must have known!’

‘How awful,’ said Angela.

‘Mmm, isn’t it?’ The Baroness hung up, wishing she had someone else to gossip with, and Angela realized that she hadn’t mentioned dinner arrangements. Oh, well.

She was looking through her wardrobe, undecided as to what to wear, when Dahlia tapped on the door. Angela opened the door in her robe and Dahlia presented her with a small tissue-wrapped parcel tied with a pink ribbon. ‘I was asked to make sure you received this before dinner,’ she said.

‘Thank you,’ Angela said softly, and her heart fluttered. She couldn’t wait to rip it open, sure of what it would be. And it was. A pair of Laura’s panties and a little note asking her to wear them to dinner, as it would make her feel close. As a postscript she added that she longed for their next cross-stitch session.

Daphne Hangerford, her hair newly cut and tinted in what would have been a rather flattering style for someone twenty years younger, sat polishing her nails. The manicures had made a world of difference to her hands but she had put on a considerable amount of weight over the holiday. Right now she didn’t care; her brain wouldn’t function and she was confused.

She had placed call after call to her husband, her lawyers, her trainers and the stables but she couldn’t get through. She was distraught and even more so when she opened her purse and discovered she had only a small amount of money left. She had a cheque book but she couldn’t use that and her credit cards
were all heavily in the red. She was sure Clarissa didn’t have any money with her. However, she had their return tickets for London and decided she was going to leave as soon as possible. Her panic spiralled out of control when she couldn’t get hold of her daughter. When the phone rang she grabbed it but it was only the kitchen staff wanting her order for dinner.

She demanded to speak to someone about leaving immediately, and after a short while Dahlia knocked on the door. ‘I have to get off this bloody island. I have to leave,’ Daphne screamed.

‘Certainly, Lady Hangerford. Would you care for your maid to pack your cases? You will be able to get the launch first thing in the morning – it leaves at seven fifteen. Will your daughter be accompanying you?’

‘Clarissa? Yes, of course.’

‘I will make arrangements to transport you to the airport, and if you wish I can also arrange for a limousine to collect you at Heathrow.’

Suddenly the panic subsided, and Daphne deflated like a pricked balloon. ‘Thank you, that is most kind. I can’t seem to work the phones. I have to call my husband.’

‘By all means. Would you care for me to get through for you?’

Daphne clasped her hands in relief.

‘It may take a little while – connections have been problematic lately.’ She listened, then asked to speak to Lord Hangerford and passed Daphne the receiver.

Daphne’s hands were sweating, but she waited until Dahlia had left the room before she spoke into the phone. She could just hear a distant, ‘Hello? Hello? Who’s speaking, hello?’

‘Is that you?’ she barked.

‘Yes.’ His voice was slurred.

She eased herself into a chair, sweat trickling between the rolls of fat on her belly. ‘What’s going on? I’ve seen the papers. Is that why you left? And how dare you not tell me, you bastard!’

‘Yes, it’s true,’ he stammered. ‘But you know the media –
someone must have tipped them off. I couldn’t tell you. I just had to get away and give myself time to think.’

‘But the money situation?’

He broke down sobbing.

‘What about William? Couldn’t he help us?’ shouted Daphne. She was shaking with nerves. Hangerford began a tirade against William. ‘There’s more, Piggy!’ He used her pet nickname, which she hated: it always spelled trouble when he used it.

‘What else could there be?’ she said flatly.

‘I’m leaving you.’

‘What?’

‘I said, I’m leaving you.’ Then he told her about Judith, the twenty-six-year-old stable girl with whom he had been having an affair. He didn’t mention that Judith had a private income, and that although it wouldn’t keep him in the style to which he was accustomed, it was better than joining the dole queue and meant he would have a roof over his head.

By the time their conversation had ground to a sickening halt, Daphne Hangerford was in a semi-stupor. She eased her bulk slowly from the wicker chair, opened the fridge and took out a bottle of gin and another of tonic water. She’d never been a great drinker and she was reminded of Katherine Benedict. She remembered the last conversation they had had. Katherine had been sitting surrounded by her dogs. She had been drinking heavily. ‘I am sorry to have to ask you this, Daphne, but I need you to repay some of the money I lent Cedric. I’m in a rather difficult position. I’ve had to use my children’s trust funds to tide me over and . . .’ This reminded Daphne that Clarissa also had a trust fund. It was still intact and her husband didn’t know about it. She giggled. It had been her secret; hers and her beloved father’s. He had seen his son-in-law carve his way through his daughter’s inheritance, so he made sure his grand-daughter’s future was secure. There was a few hundred thousand, if not more, that she could get her hands on. Daphne Hangerford raised her glass and vowed that her husband would
see her in court if he tried to get his hands on one penny. ‘Thank God for you, Daddy!’

The Baroness had just showered when Laura tapped at the door of her suite. ‘Who is it?’ she called.

‘Laura.’

The Baroness opened the door and her towel slipped to reveal her breasts. ‘Oh, sorry, come in.’ She made only a half-hearted attempt to cover herself.

‘Are you alone?’ Laura asked, closing the door.

‘Yes. God knows where my husband is.’

Laura sat down on the enormous sofa loaded with cushions. ‘I think you know perfectly well where your husband is.’ She smiled sweetly.

‘What do you mean by that?’

Laura opened her bag, removed a video cassette and held it between her thumb and forefinger. ‘See for yourself.’

The Baroness sat opposite Laura on a low seat, her legs wide apart, knowing she was leaving nothing to the imagination. ‘So what is this video, darling? Not of you, is it?’

‘It’s nothing to do with me, but you’ll thank me for passing it on to you. There are two seats reserved on a plane tomorrow morning. The launch will have to leave rather early so that you don’t miss the flight. I’ll get your maid to help you pack, unless you’d prefer not to use Ruby.’

She slipped the tape into the VCR, then sat back and crossed her legs. ‘I wouldn’t mention this to the other guests. Just make sure you and your husband leave tomorrow.’

The tape whirred into action. On the screen the Baron, naked, walked into shot, his erection leading the way.

‘Or the film will be shown to all the guests in a specially announced screening tomorrow night,’ Laura added.

The Baroness was speechless as she watched her husband cavorting with a couple of the boat-boys. ‘I’m in love with Max,’ said Laura. ‘He’s asked me to marry him and I have
accepted.’ She looked at a small flower in the curtains behind the Baroness, her wide eyes clear and focused.

The Baroness was glued to the screen. She had always known of her husband’s antics, but seeing him perform had silenced her.

Laura pressed on: ‘We want to be left alone, to lead our own lives.’

The Baroness stood up suddenly. ‘You lay one finger on my son,’ she screamed, ‘and I’ll scratch your eyes out.’

Laura continued, ‘It’s not only the Baron on tape. Shall I fast-forward? I notice you have been spending a lot of time with Kurt.’ She looked the Baroness in the eye. ‘Well, I see I have no need to elaborate. Why not sit and view it for yourself? Think about whether you’d like Humphrey Matlock to get hold of it.’ Laura straightened her skirt and stood up. She smiled. ‘See you at dinner.’

Left alone in her suite the Baroness played the video through. It was still running when her husband returned. ‘Beautiful evening,’ he said, as he came in.

‘You are in for one big shock,’ said the Baroness. ‘Sit down and get yourself a stiff drink. And while you sit and watch that video, I’ll be packing – without a servant, because it appears you have fucked every single one of them.’

The Baron sat in a stupor, staring at himself on the screen. He was mortified. Then his wife was back. ‘Oh, by the way,’ she said, ‘Max is staying on here, with that two-faced whore.’