When the Siren Calls (46 page)

“Oh, I’m sure, all right. I’ve got my ways. I’m not as stupid as Mancini thinks; one of the Italians let me in on the scheme over a bottle of wine. I almost laughed, in fact I would have done if the wine hadn’t cost so much.”

Isobel had always liked his dry humour, and she laughed in spite of herself. There were no questions left, and he seemed to sense it. He took a sip more of champagne, put his lips to hers, and passed it into her mouth. He waited till she had swallowed, and gently pushed her back on the bed. He took a longer drink, emptying the glass, and leant over her belly, and slowly dribbled a line of champagne down to the top of her thighs. She laid back and closed her eyes. Just one more time, she said to herself, as she felt his tongue retrace the line of his lips. Just one last time.Fifty-two

The hot summer evening had given way to humid darkness and the white halogen headlights of Maria’s car illuminated the dancing moths as they batted their paper wings against the windscreen. “You are sure this is the place?” asked Maria.

“Yes, the concierge let it slip; he booked the arrangements for Jay.”

She and Isobel sat motionless in the car, engaged in low, hurried conversation as they peered single-mindedly into the blackness. “It is the right thing to do,” said Maria for the hundredth time since they left the restaurant. “Your future is in your own hands, and you must be sure that Jay is not deceiving you.” Isobel gestured her assent, allowing Maria to finally turn into the large parking area of Club Nero, which beamed its searchlights into the night sky, flickering and criss-crossing as the two women sat still and watchful beneath.

“You got your gun with you?” said Maria, as she switched off the engine, unable to share in the indecision that possessed her friend and sure that she already knew what to expect — a neon spectacle of Jay’s duplicity and Isobel’s naivety.

“Please,” Isobel implored her. “I’m a bag of nerves already.”

She stared again into the darkness, amazed that such expansive nocturnal activity could be found in the backwaters of Tuscany. Her ignorance made her only more nervous and she turned to Maria in fear again. “We’ll never find them, even if they are here.”

Maria snorted with amused impatience. “I’ve been here a zillion times, we’ll definitely find them.”

“But what if we just stumble upon them…and they see us?”

“Then we will play innocent,” Maria shrugged, “we have as much right to be here as they do.”

“But Jay will know I’m stalking him.” Isobel spat out the word, hitting the dashboard for emphasis.

“Calm down,” said Maria, “it is nearly eleven. By now they will have moved to the dance area, and we can see everything from the mezzanine bar, which should be almost deserted. If they are here, we’ll see them.”

Maria was proved right. The two women slipped up to the mezzanine bar, lit by table lanterns and inhabited only by shadows, and soon spotted Jay, a handsome and strangely still figure amongst the rippling, twisting dancers. The two women hovered above him, visible from the dance floor only as faceless silhouettes.

It was Isobel who broke their vigil with a squeak, “that’s her!” she mouthed, pointing into the writhing mass of people. Maria leant over the barrier in anticipation as Lucy pushed through the crowds towards Jay; a rushing, smouldering temptress with long brown limbs held together by the tiniest black dress.

“What’s going on down there?” asked Isobel, leaning to join Maria as she edged out of sight.

“She’s playing some sort of drinking game with that Irishman from Capadelli,” said Maria, curled like an acrobat over the edge.

“And Jay?” asked Isobel apprehensively.

“He’s sitting down, talking to Gina.”

They watched with anxious fascination as the night unfolded, with Eamon refilling Lucy’s glass at every opportunity; she became increasingly erratic, draping herself erotically over Eamon and talking excitedly in his ear, flicking her eyes back to Jay with increasing frequency as he ignored her.

“Slut,” said Isobel vehemently as Maria hushed her in glee.

“Look,” said Maria, pointing down, “the Irishman is making progress.”

They watched as Eamon pulled Lucy to him and beckoned her to the dance floor; Lucy tried to coax Gina to join them, but Gina refused and let them run off together into the crush of the floor.

“I’m going down there,” shouted Maria, the music reverberating over her voice. “We won’t see anything once they’re lost in the crowd. You stay here and keep an eye on Jay. It’s maybe not Lucy you need to be worrying about.”

She hurtled off into the light and sound and Isobel refocused on Jay, studying his body language as he sat with Gina, he mostly watching the dance floor and only occasionally responding to her attempts at conversation.

Out of the darkness Maria returned, her eyes full of excitement and her voice urgent. “She’s going completely crazy down there. I’m not sure she even knows where she is, she’s that spaced out. She was gyrating like a belly dancer in the middle of a circle, with everyone egging her on, and when I left, the Irishman had his hands all over her…and I mean everywhere, and she was letting him. Beauty or not, she’s a complete man-eater of a tart. No class at all. I don’t know what Jay must have been thinking when he got mixed up with her.”

“She’s a gold-digger too,” said Isobel, self-righteousness boiling within her as she imagined Lucy’s bloodstained claws in his flesh. Maria hushed her again, more insistently this time, and grabbed her arm.

“Quick, it looks like they’re getting ready to leave!” Isobel jumped into action, snatching up her bag from the chair. “Wait, no, they’ve sat back down again.” Maria craned her neck as she bent over the rail once more. “I think the tart’s going to the loo…yes, she definitely is, they’re round the back, behind the kitchens.”

They moved along the rail, echoing Lucy’s footsteps as she made her way unsteadily along the wall below them, swaying and wobbling as she leant against it for support.

“I know it’s strange, but I’m worried for her,” said Isobel, turning to Maria with concern as Lucy almost fell.

Maria laughed almost cruelly. “This is the real world, Isobel; go down any high street this time of night, and you’ll see girls in a much worse state than her. You try and help them and they gouge your eyes out.”

Lucy lost her footing and toppled over, collapsing awkwardly on the ground with her long legs splayed beneath her like some fallen antelope.

“I’m going to help,” said Isobel instinctively, pulling her arm from Maria’s hold and rushing forward before her friend had the chance to restrain her.

She arrived to find Lucy on all fours, trying to get to her feet but unable to, one broken shoe in her hand. Isobel halted, fearful of discovery, but she knew she couldn’t just leave her half-prostrate on the ground.

Lucy turned her head towards the figure above her, losing her balance and tumbling onto her backside. “Pull me up, Gina,” said the girl, as she stared up at Isobel. “I’m a bit tipsy.”

Isobel grimaced and hauled her to her feet. “I’ll help you to the bathroom, Jay sent me to check you were ok.”

At the sound of his name Lucy smiled and pushed back her golden hair, looking Isobel in the eyes with gratitude. Isobel flinched at her gaze, shocked to find warmth and vulnerability where she had expected to see ruthless avarice and naked wantonness. She was inexplicably filled with compassion for her fallen rival.

“Come on, give me your arm, and your shoes.”

“But you’re not Gina,” said Lucy in confusion.

“I’m just a friend, Jay sent me, ok?”

Lucy nodded and did as she was told, clinging to Isobel like a child as she supported her to the toilets like the walking wounded.

“Please wait for me,” said Lucy as Isobel deposited her outside an open toilet door. “I don’t want to get lost.”

Isobel glanced furtively over her shoulder, aware that Gina might arrive at any moment. In a flash of inspiration she led Lucy into the disabled cubicle, bolting them safely inside together. She appraised the bedraggled seductress as the sheer surreality of the situation hit home; for a moment she was tempted to leave her, to punish her somehow for who she was. But Isobel dismissed the thought almost instantaneously, that wasn’t who she was. Instead she grabbed and dampened some towels, cleaning the grass and dirt from the girl’s hands and knees, as Lucy stood passive, smiling like a sad circus clown.

“There, good as new,” said Isobel with an almost maternal tone.

“I wish I talked posh like you,” said Lucy, sniffling with gratitude. “Jay likes girls who talk posh.”

“You talk lovely,” said Isobel, brushing the last blades of grass from Lucy’s dress as the girl looked up at her with warmth and curiosity, as if trying to place her in the fog of her memory.

“Is it ok if I take a pee?” asked Lucy sheepishly.

“I will turn my back and cover my ears,” said Isobel, again both surprised and touched by the young beauty’s humility.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she whispered.

Isobel nodded conspiratorially, a million possibilities exploding in her mind.

Lucy looked up at her solemnly and then broke into a giggle. “I’m not wearing any panties.”

Isobel wanted to judge her but burst into laughter, completely charmed by her forthright allure.

“I’m ok now, you can turn around,” said Lucy, staggering to full height and kissing Isobel on the cheek in childlike gratefulness.

“Don’t forget your shoes,” said Isobel, resisting a strange urge to give Lucy a reassuring hug; she held them out as Lucy fought to open the door, her mouth bright and vague. Isobel pulled back the bolt, giving Lucy a final pat on the bottom as she encouraged her on her way.

Isobel sat in the car, entangled in a swirling mass of contradictory emotions, as she and Maria watched the taxi pull up outside Eamon’s apartment. They strained to see through the blackness and Isobel’s stomach lurched as Eamon emerged from the cab, pulling Lucy from the back seat as she tried to tug her dress back down.

“I bet he was really glad she wasn’t wearing any knickers,” snorted Maria, as they watched Lucy bear his caresses with oblivious resignation as she followed Jay and Gina up the steps and into the building.

“She’s just a lost soul,” said Isobel, with a faraway look in her eyes.

Maria rolled her eyes upwards. “I say we give it fifteen minutes,” she said, full of certainty. “If Jay is not back down by then, you will know everything you need to know. Because that girl is only good for her bed, and there’s no mistake about that.”

Eamon’s apartment had the unkempt look of temporary accommodation; bare and unloved with empty bottles on the table and discarded clothes draped haphazardly on the furniture. As Gina and Jay sank into the sofa, Eamon opened a bottle of wine and filled a glass to the brim, handing it to Lucy with a flourish. She looked timidly into the redness and took an unladylike gulp, before pulling Gina up from her seat as Eamon flicked on the music.

“Come on, Gina, let’s dance for the boys.”

Lucy put her arms around Gina’s neck and began to swing her hips. Gina stared helplessly at Jay but allowed Lucy to grind against her body as she swayed passively in the centre of the room.

“Come on, Jay, join the party,” said Lucy, meaning to seem casual but unable to disguise the sound of her pleading.

“I’m about danced out tonight,” he said, looking into his lap.

She broke off from Gina and tried to pull him to his feet, desperate for affection and reassurance. But he resisted and she, recoiling in rejection, reached for Eamon, swirling herself around him in manic, hysterical sadness. And as Lucy spun she began to feel the room spin; Eamon grabbed her as spinning turned into falling and she landed on the sofa, staring blankly at the faces above her.

“I think you’re about done in, Lucy,” said Jay, “it’s time to call it a night.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she insisted, slurring her words as the room spun. “Just give me a few minutes, and I’ll be fine.” She closed her eyes, shutting the room out as nausea washed over her.

Gina clasped Jay’s hand between hers. “I think I should go now, Jay. Will you take me back, please?”

Jay hesitated. He had encouraged Lucy into Eamon’s eyes with relief, even pleasure, but to leave her in her current state seemed a step too far. Gina pulled at his arm again, silently imploring him to leave and sure that, if what they witnessed in the car was any indication, this was where Lucy wanted to be. But he couldn’t convince himself that was the truth and he bent over Lucy’s lifeless form, patting her on each cheek as he spoke.

“Lucy, it’s Jay. We need to get you home. You need to get up, ok?”

Her eyelids fluttered but she only groaned, a green pallor glistening beneath the sweat of her brow. Jay was preparing to lift her when Eamon appeared carrying a blanket. He placed it over Lucy and turned to Jay, his face full of promises and boundaries.

“It will be the devil of a job getting her down those stairs, boss. She might be better sleeping it off where she is.”

Jay looked down at Lucy who seemed to have fallen asleep, her thumb crammed into her mouth like a baby.

“She’ll be sound where she is, boss. Here, take my keys, I’ll get a cab in the morning.”

Again Jay held firm but Gina squeezed his hand, nodding reassurance.