Daughter of Riches (65 page)

It was this sibling rivalry – and the secret desire of each of the boys to outdo the other – that made Molly the bone in the undignified tug-of-war which followed. Would Robin ever have found her quite so attractive if she had not been so obviously ‘sweet on' Louis? She was pretty, yes, but no more so than many other girls he met – it was the fact that she was so attracted to Louis which gave her that added glamour in his eyes. And later when she despaired of ever getting so much as a second glance from Louis and turned her attention to Robin, Louis was unable to resist throwing her the few crumbs he thought would be sufficient to keep what was rightly his.

Sophia, when she realised what was going on, was horrified. She had seen the awful effects of a similar tug-of-war between her own brothers and she was terrified at the prospect of history repeating itself. All very well for Bernard to say comfortingly that they would work it out between themselves in the end – Sophia could not help thinking that Paul and Nicky never had done. Nicky might have been alive today if Paul had not married Viv and she was sure the tragedy had marred their relationship and spoiled any chance of real happiness. She shuddered at the thought that something similar might happen to Louis and Robin. As their mother she wanted nothing more for them than that they should both be happy. Added to this, she felt a sense of responsibility towards Molly, whom she had watched grow up and of whom she was very fond. It wouldn't do her any good in the end, caught in the middle and bandied between the two boys like a trophy of war. But Sophia was loath to interfere for she knew instinctively that nothing she said would do any good as long as they were intent on swimming in this tight little circle chasing one another's tails. All she could hope for was that Bernard was right and they would sort themselves out in the end, preferably by meeting and falling in love, all of them, with someone quite different, and so putting an end to this relationship which somehow had the unhealthy tang of the incestuous about it.

Unfortunately for all of them, however, things had not worked out that way. The merry-go-round went on turning, Robin with eyes only for Molly, Molly with eyes only for Louis, Louis arrogantly doing exactly as he pleased with both of them, until the year when Louis was to be twenty-one. Then crisis point was reached, though oddly neither Robin nor Molly figured in the showdown. That was between Louis and Bernard.

It had been brewing for a long while, that showdown, ever since Louis had left school and gone straight into the company. Bernard would have liked him to go to college first but Louis; though he had a brilliant brain, was a lazy scholar. He had no intention of studying a day longer – he was impatient to get on with the serious business of life – making money.

When he saw that Louis's mind was made up Bernard took him into the company though he explained he would have to work his way up and learn as he went.

This did not altogether suit Louis, who had his own ideas as to the way both he and Langlois Business Enterprises should operate. The clashes began almost immediately, made worse by the fact that the following year Robin, who had not the slightest intention of being left behind, also refused to go to college and joined the company wet behind the ears. There was a difference, however. Where Louis wanted to march in and impose his ideas on an organisation that had been rolling along on oiled wheels for years, Robin was willing to learn. Bernard could not resist making comparisons and soon sparks were flying. In the year Louis was twenty-one matters came to a head. After one last flaming row Louis walked out of the company, convinced his father was favouring Robin yet again, and took off to build a new life for himself in England.

The moment Louis had gone Robin moved as far as Molly was concerned. He caught her hurt and vulnerable – and determined to show Louis she could live without him and be worth something in someone else's eyes, if not his. Their courtship was short – Louis had scarcely gone, it seemed, before Molly was wearing Robin's ring and the date was set for the wedding.

‘Wait a little – you are both so young!' Sophia begged them, but they were in no mood to wait.

The wedding was the event of the decade – Molly wore a fashionable ballerina length gowm, as did her bridesmaids, one in pink, one in blue and one in lemon yellow, and as they entered the church Sophia held her breath. Louis had come home for the wedding, though Robin had chosen David to be his best man, and Sophia found herself watching Molly for the look in Louis's direction that she dreaded, the look that would tell her that Molly's affections still lay with Louis.

To her relief, however, Molly glanced neither to left nor right, sweeping past Louis as if he were not there and as she stood beside Robin at the altar exchanging vows Sophia was aware of an overwhelming wave of relief. Perhaps after all it was going to be all right. They looked so good together, as if it had always been meant to be.

At first it seemed she was right. Louis returned to his life in London, making money and plenty of it, in his own inimitable style, and Robin and Molly settled down to married life. Ten months after the wedding little Juliet was born.

‘It's too soon,' Sophia had said again when they told her Molly was pregnant, but the moment she saw the baby she changed her mind. Juliet was beautiful, the most perfect grandchild she could have wished for and Sophia hoped she would cement her parents' marriage. Molly seemed blissfully happy though in many ways she was little more than a child herself and Sophia thought that at last she had put her yearning for Louis behind her.

She was wrong. For when Bernard died so suddenly and tragically leaving his shares in the company equally divided between the three boys and Louis came back to assert his influence it had all begun again.

Louis regarded the fact that Molly was now his brother's wife as a challenge and Molly, as hopelessly attracted to him as she had ever been, was powerless to resist his advances.

Why was it, she sometimes wondered? What was it about Louis that made him so devastatingly attractive? She did not want to be unfaithful to Robin, she did not want to betray her child. Yet Louis undermined her resolve just as he had always done. One glance from his cool blue eyes and her knees turned to jelly, one touch and she was on fire with longing. She met him secretly and the danger added zest to their lovemaking, though when they were apart she wanted to weep with shame. She knew he was playing with her but it made no difference. He was like a powerful drug and she was addicted. Hating herself for her weakness was no remedy, fear of bringing everything she cared for tumbling about her ears, real though it was, could not stop her.

And Louis, with a foot in both worlds, revelled in the sense of power, recognising it now for what it was and not caring. He did not need Molly any more than he needed Debbie, except to feed his physical hunger and satisfy his huge ego. The difference between the two women was that whilst Molly knew the truth, Debbie most certainly did not.

‘I want you to come to Jersey with me, Kitten,' Louis said.

Debbie experienced a great leap of joy.

It was autumn now – winter really, except that the mild weather had meant the leaves had remained on the trees in a blaze of red and gold much longer than usual – and the shortening days had intensified Debbie's sense of having been abandoned.

Last winter, she remembered, Louis had been there almost all the time and she had felt wrapped around by love, happy with the present, daring to become confident about the future. It had been the first time in her life she could ever remember having felt like that and it had been wonderful. Now she was back to uncertainty and longing, waiting alone for the person she loved to come home. Even the modelling jobs seemed to be fewer – ‘the image' was changing, she was told; it frequently did – a new sharper look was the ‘in' thing. Debbie did not mind about the modelling too much. The only thing that really mattered to her was being with Louis. But he seemed to be away more than ever and Debbie had grown more and more wretched.

If he loved her why did he leave her in London? Why didn't he take her with him? But when she asked him this he always had a plausible excuse or, failing that, he would simply say he liked having her here to come home to. Business and pleasure didn't mix, and when the business was done he liked to be able to relax and forget it, close the door and leave the world outside.

It sounded quite reasonable when he said it; Louis could make anything sound the way he wanted it to. But when she was alone Debbie was haunted by doubt.

Her friends were no help either. Grace, although great fun, could be very self-centred and she hated talking about anything that did not directly concern her and was likely to murmur comfortingly that she was quite sure Debbie was worrying unnecessarily and change the subject. So Debbie stumbled on, clinging to the hope that next time he came home things would be different, next time he would convince her he really did love her. And when he told her he wanted her to go to Jersey with him Debbie thought that at last her prayers had been answered.

‘When?' she asked eagerly.

‘I'm not sure at the moment. I'll let you know.'

‘Oh, right.' Debbie was puzzled but she did not ask any questions. Louis could be very impatient about that sort of thing.

She contented herself with the lovely thought that if he was taking her to Jersey, it must mean that at last she had been granted entry to that other part of his life. In Jersey he was bound to introduce her to his family. Perhaps he would even ask her to marry him. Whatever, she thought, it must mean that their relationship was entering a new and more satisfactory phase.

She could scarcely have been more wrong.

A few days later something rather horrible happened. Debbie answered the door to find a strange man standing on the step – a big, balding man with a face that looked as though it had been in more than one fight. Although he was wearing an expensive-looking leather jacket he reminded Debbie of a bouncer from one of the less salubrious clubs and instinctively she recoiled a little.

‘I'm looking for Louis Langlois,' he said. His voice was rough East End.

‘He's not here. He's in Jersey.'

‘Are you sure?' The man seemed on the point of forcing his way into the flat. Debbie stood her ground.

‘Of course I'm sure.'

‘Hmm.' The man considered. ‘ When are you expecting him back?'

‘I don't know.' The man looked disbelieving. ‘ I don't!' she reiterated.

‘You'd better give him a message then hadn't you? Tell him George wants his money. And if he doesn't get it there's going to be trouble.'

‘Who's George? What money?'

‘He knows. If he doesn't pay up soon I'll be back. And next time I shall have company. Just tell him – right?'

He ran a swarthy hand across his chin, blue-shadowed from a growth of beard that needed twice-daily shaving. Debbie was not sure if it was rings she saw glinting on his fingers or a knuckleduster.

‘I'll tell him,' she said, slamming the door and leaning hard against it. She was very frightened indeed.

It was almost a week before Louis telephoned; Debbie stayed inside the house with the safety chain on the door. She trembled every time she saw a car pull up in the street outside and hid behind the curtains pretending to be out on the couple of occasions the bell rang. Where was Louis? Why didn't he call her? She wondered if she dared to try to get in touch with him but he had forbidden her to do that so she waited, scared out of her wits until the day when – oh bliss! – it was him.

‘Louis, I'm so glad to hear from you!' she almost sobbed when she heard his voice, languid as ever, on the line. ‘I've been so worried!'

‘Why? What's wrong, Kitten?'

‘There was a man here – a really horrible man. He said he had come from someone called George and you owed him money. He said if he didn't soon get it he would be back. I think he was threatening me. Louis. He really frightened me!'

‘Kitten – calm down!'

‘But Louis …'

‘Stop worrying about it. Leave it to me. I'll sort it out. Just don't answer the door, all right?'

‘I don't intend to, I promise you! But what did he mean? What money do you owe him?'

‘It's business, Kitten. George and I did some business together and he's an impatient sod. Now listen, do you remember I said I wanted you to come to Jersey?'

‘Oh yes.'

‘Well, can you get on a plane tomorrow?'

Her heart leaped. ‘ Of course. What time?'

‘You'll have to check that out for yourself. Use my usual travel agency – the number is in the jotter on my desk. When you arrive in Jersey take a taxi to the Pomme d'Or Hotel in St Helier. I'll get in touch with you there.'

‘Louis …'

‘I can't stop, Kitten. I'll see you tomorrow.'

There was a click at the other end of the line and he was gone. Debbie stood holding the receiver, a puzzled look in her clear turquoise eyes.

She hadn't heard Louis mention the Pomme d'Or before and she'd thought she knew the names of all the Langlois hotels – when Louis had first gone back to Jersey she had recited them like a litany – the Belville, The Westerley, La Maison Blanche and Les Belles Fleures. But not the Pomme d'Or. No definitely not the Pomme d'Or. Very odd. But tomorrow she would be with Louis again. He would explain everything. Debbie was smiling with relief as she replaced the receiver.

‘I'm really glad for you, Debbie,' Grace said. ‘Louis has been treating you very badly indeed.'

The two girls were sharing a bottle of champagne, curled up in the deep leather chairs that were the only concession to real comfort in the London house. Since speaking to Louis and booking her flight to Jersey Debbie had telephoned Grace, telling her she might be away for quite some time, and now they were spending a quiet evening together.