Daughter of Riches (67 page)

It was not only the weather keeping them away, Louis explained to Debbie, there was an important gala going on in St Helier and many prominent islanders who might otherwise be spending the evening here at the Jersey Lily would in all probability be there instead. What Louis did not add was that his own mother was at the gala. The less said about his family the better.

Louis steered Debbie towards the bar. A dark swarthy man in black tie and dinner jacket was sitting on one of the stools smoking a cigar.

‘Evening, Raife,' Louis said. ‘ I've brought someone to meet you. The young lady I told you about.'

The man swung round, hooded eyes narrowed behind the screen of smoke. Debbie was disconcerted by the intensity of his gaze but brazened it out. She was used to men looking at her. She lifted her chin and smiled at him.

Raife ignored her. ‘ Is this who I think it is?' he asked Louis shortly.

‘It is. This is Debbie, a friend of mine from London.'

In spite of herself Debbie was unable to avoid feeling a little slighted at the wording of the introduction. Surely Louis could have said something a little more personal.

The hooded eyes swept over her again, taking in her hair, restored to some semblance of style by her Carmen rollers, smooth shoulders above the virginal white lace cocktail dress, shapely figure, endless legs. As his eyes lingered on her Debbie found herself hoping her stomach wasn't looking fat – slender as she was it had a tendency to bloat after a meal. When she had worked at Benny's she had never dared eat until it was almost time to go home but tonight she had been too hungry to care. When Louis had left her to go home and change, she had had two rounds of prawn sandwich sent up via room service, and then Louis had bought her steak, mushrooms, salad and French fries before bringing her here.

The inspection over Raife turned to stub out his cigar and reach for his drink. ‘Well, I never thought you'd go this far, Louis.'

His tone was cool but Louis merely smiled. If Debbie had not been in love with him she might have described it as a sneer.

‘You know how I feel about our project. And I'm prepared to do whatever is necessary to see it works out.'

‘Hmm.' There was a distinct lack of enthusiasm in the other's non-committal response. ‘We'd better talk about this in my office, I think. Shall we get some drinks in first? What are you having?'

‘Debbie drinks g and t. I'll have the usual.'

‘Two double whiskies and a g and t,' Raife said to the bartender. ‘Don't ring them in. I'll settle the bill later.'

With a drink in her hand Debbie felt a little more confident. She followed the men along a narrow corridor to what was obviously Raife's office. Raife closed the door, went around to sit in his big leather swivel chair, offered Louis a cigar and lit another for himself. Louis perched on the edge of the desk, Debbie crossed to look at the bank of photographs on one wall, teetering on her high heels. The photographs were mostly publicity portraits of the various acts that played the Jersey Lily; some showed Raife with what must obviously be guests at the club. Debbie did not recognise any of them but studying them was preferable to listening to the conversation Louis was having with Raife. Debbie was still not happy about Louis's plan – and from the tone of his voice it did not sound as if Raife was too enamoured of it either.

‘Why have we got to bring someone else into it?' Debbie had asked Louis when he told her he was taking her to the Jersey Lily to meet Raife, and Louis had explained that Raife was his partner and friend. Well, it didn't sound as if they were going to be partners or friends much longer, judging by the way voices were beginning to be raised.

Debbie winced, sipped her g and t and concentrated even harder on the photographs, but she could hardly avoid hearing the angry exchanges.

‘How the hell do you expect to ever make a success of anything if you're not prepared to give it your best shot?' Louis was demanding.

‘This is a small island, pal. You want to play with fire. If something goes wrong …'

‘What is going to go wrong?'

‘Anything could. De Val could decide to come clean rather than be blackmailed.'

‘Not he. He's got too much to lose.'

‘And so have I. If he did shop you, or even talk to his friends about what you intend to do, you'd be finished in Jersey and so would I. What you do, Louis, is up to you. But leave me out of it. I've got a good club here.'

‘You call this a good club? You've hardly got half a dozen customers in the whole damned place!'

‘I make a living. In the season …'

‘Not what I call a living!'

‘You've got big ideas, Louis. You always have had. For God's sake, man, forget this one before it ruins us both.'

‘Raife – I've got a keg of gunpowder I can stick under de Val.'

‘And blow us up with it, maybe. Haven't you got enough stinking mess-ups in your life already without adding this one?'

‘What the hell do you mean by that?'

‘Shagging your sister-in-law for a start. One of these days your brother is going to find out what you're up to – if he doesn't know already.'

There was a short loaded pause. Debbie had begun to shake, the gin suddenly making her want to be sick. She hadn't heard right. She couldn't have heard right! But in those few moments she was remembering, all at once, the phone call and that woman's voice, childlike, sweet, asking for Louis. ‘Who can I tell him called?' ‘Say it's Molly.' ‘Who is Molly, Louis?' ‘Molly – oh, she's just my sister-in-law.'

And now this man, this Raife, was accusing Louis of ‘shagging his sister-in-law'.

Oh God, Debbie thought, that's why he doesn't come home to London very often any more. That's why he doesn't want me over here. He is having an affair with his sister-in-law. Molly. Whoever she is.

Over the ringing in her ears she heard Louis's voice, low and dangerous.

‘Is that some sort of threat, Raife?'

‘It might be – yes.'

‘You bastard.'

‘Fair's fair. You resort to blackmail against my wishes, so will I. I don't want to be dragged into this, Louis, and by implication I will be. I value my business if you don't. I've worked damned hard to build it up. I don't want to come unstuck because you've got greedy. I won't let you do it.'

Louis laughed. It was the most chilling sound Debbie had ever heard.

‘And how are you going to stop me? You think I'd fall for that one? If you think you can threaten me, Raife, you've got the wrong man. I don't give a monkey's cuss who knows about me and Molly. She might care. Robin might care. But I sure as hell don't. And if you don't want to be in on the biggest thing that's ever going to hit Jersey that's your loss. But I assure you – I intend going ahead. And you, pal, can go to hell!'

He slammed his glass down on the desk and grabbed Debbie's wrist, jerking her across the room, out of the door and into the dark corridor. Shocked and shaking she could do nothing but go with him, past a couple of staff who had overheard the raised voices and come to see what was going on, and out into the night. The wind had really got up now, it whipped at Debbie's stole, and dragged along in the darkness, her eyes not yet accustomed to the change, she stumbled.

‘Louis! For God's sake!' she sobbed.

He stopped, waiting for her to wrench her stiletto heel out of the crack that had trapped it, but she could feel his fury still running down his arm and coming out of the tips of his fingers like electric current.

‘What the hell is the matter with you?' he barked.

She couldn't answer, couldn't ask him if it was true that he was having an affair with the unknown Molly. In truth she did not need to. She already knew the answer. It was tearing her apart, a pain so bad she wanted to die. She couldn't confront him with it. She couldn't even cry yet.

‘Come on, you silly bitch, get in the car!' he snarled.

Debbie could do nothing but obey.

Wherever he took her it was only a short journey. She sat in the front seat hugging herself with her arms, still too stunned to really take in what had happened.

‘Come on – get out!' he snapped at her.

‘Why? Where are we going?'

‘To see Frank de Val. Isn't that why you're here?'

Tears were pricking her eyes, burning in her throat. She couldn't believe he was talking to her like this. In all the time they had been together she had never seen this side of him before.

‘You might think that's why I'm here,' she returned sharply. ‘It isn't my reason. I came to please you, to be with you. I won't be threatened like this, Louis.'

For a moment she thought he was going to strike her. A pulse throbbed in his temple, his lips curled into a snarl and she shrank back in her seat, closing her eyes and covering her face with her hands.

‘Kitten!' She opened her eyes again, peeping between her fingers. He was running his fingers through his hair, looking more perplexed than angry now. ‘Kitten, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. The truth is I'm worried – very worried. I need money urgently and I don't know how to get it. But I shouldn't take it out on you.'

‘No, you shouldn't!'

‘I said I'm sorry. Am I forgiven?' He reached for her. For a moment she resisted but she could feel herself weakening.

‘I – I don't know.'

‘I don't deserve to be, I know, but I'll make it up to you, I promise. Just do this for me.'

‘Louis …'

‘I need the money, Kitten.
We
need the money. Come on now, I've always been good to you, haven't I?'

‘Yes.'

‘And this is your chance to do something for me. Come on, sweetheart, you don't have to say a word, just let me do the talking.'

‘Oh Louis!' One part of her knew she was being played for a sucker. One part of her knew but somehow could not care. She loved him too much; she had to believe there was at least hope for them or she simply could not bear it. He kissed her, leaned over and opened the door for her.

‘It won't take long. And it won't be half as bad as you think.'

But it was as bad – worse. Standing beside Louis, listening to him put his propositions to the senator, and back them up with threats of exposure of his private life Debbie cringed inwardly, wishing she could be anywhere but here on the front porch of what she might have described as a ‘stately cottage' if she had been in the mood for quips.

The senator was smaller than she had remembered him; dressed now in jacket and cords it was difficult to imagine this was the same man she had last seen wearing nothing but a frilly apron. There was something familiar about his face but she could not have put it more strongly than that. But Louis had told her there was no need for her to speak and it seemed he was right. The senator was obviously so shocked to be confronted by Louis and Debbie on his own doorstep that he did not query for one moment Louis's assertion that Debbie could – and would – identify him to the world if he did not go along with the suggestions Louis had made.

‘All right … all right! I'll do what I can. I can't promise anything – you know that. I'm only one among many.' The voice that could fill the States was low and trembling and de Val kept glancing nervously over his shoulder.

‘Ah but we both know how persuasive you can be. You'd better be persuasive, Frank, if you value your reputation. I hope I'll soon hear there is to be a debate on changing the law, otherwise Debbie might have to go to the newspapers.'

‘I told you … I'll do what I can. Now for God's sake go, before my wife comes to see why I've been so long at the door!'

‘Tell her it was one of the people you represent, with a problem, Frankie. That's no more than the truth.'

‘All right. But go, go!'

By the light of the porch Debbie could see the sweat glistening on his scalp where his hair had receded and she felt a qualm of pity for him. Men like de Val weren't wicked or even bad, just rather pathetic. They couldn't help being what they were, but that didn't mean they were proud of it. Who knew the depths of shame and self-loathing someone like Frank experienced when he came down from the high of indulging his fantasies? Bad enough to have to live with the knowledge of an inconquerable – and very undignified – vice, how much worse to be threatened with exposure! Debbie began to feel sick again and it was as if de Val's humiliation was also somehow her own. What was more it was somehow inextricably bound up with the way she had felt in Raife Pearson's office. She couldn't forget the things Louis had said, especially about Molly. Even though she was not consciously thinking about them now yet the shadow remained, dull and heavy, adding to the terrible sense of degradation.

This whole trip, for which she had had such high hopes, had turned into a horrible sick nightmare. Nothing had turned out as she had expected or hoped, nothing at all. Even Louis's promises now held a hollow ring.

Debbie felt suddenly as if she might be going to faint. There was a ringing in her ears and her vision blurred. It was awful – awful. Just as she thought her legs would collapse beneath her if she had to stand there a moment longer looking at that pathetic sweating little man, she felt Louis's hand beneath her elbow.

‘Come on, Debs. We'll leave Mr de Val to think about what we've said.'

‘Why did we have to go to his house?' she asked when they were in the car again. ‘Why couldn't you have written to him or talked to him somewhere else?'

‘In the States building, you mean?' Louis slammed the car into reverse, turned in de Val's drive and shot off along the lane. ‘He'd have been delighted to have been confronted with the evidence of his carryings-on there, I'm sure.'

‘But surely there was no need for me to be there at all. It made such a business of it.'