Fatal Slip, Page 2

  *

  Dodie opened the door of her suite and halted on the threshold. 'Well, well, and how did you get here?'

  'That's not a very maternal greeting, Ma,' the man lounging in the armchair reproved.

  'You only ever come to see me when you want something. Has your woman thrown you out?'

  'Which woman?' he asked, laughing.

  Jake looked all of thirty-five, Dodie decided dispassionately. His dark hair was beginning to turn grey, which gave him a distinguished air, but his handsome features, to someone who knew him well, showed faint signs of imminent flab. He was nonetheless still a remarkably attractive man. She felt a momentary pang as she recalled the charmer who'd been her first lover, then thrust away the unaccustomed nostalgia. Jake, perhaps unfortunately for him, had inherited that charm in full measure and used it for his own advantage. Since he usually went for rich, older widows, the fact that he didn't look the typical toyboy might seem, to them, expedient.

  'There's always some fool,' she replied, and moved into the room. 'Why have you come, and how did you know I was here?'

  'I was on a cruise ship. My – friend – had to fly home. Family problems. As I'd heard about the series they're doing based on your matrimonial adventures, and I was stranded and broke, I thought I'd come and visit my loving Mama! I knew she'd help me out. Unfortunately you weren't here.'

  'There was a delay. Why did you stay on?'

  'I don't have the cash for a ticket to get anywhere. I've been kicking my heels for a month.'

  'That's a new name for your horny pastimes.'

  'What?'

  'Forget it. Haven't you found another rich widow yet?'

  'Why do you, who made a profession out of marrying rich widowers, condemn me for following in your footsteps?'

  'At least you have the sense not to marry them!' Dodie chuckled suddenly. 'Can you imagine me with a daughter-in-law older than I am? Where are you staying?'

  'Some small place. They wouldn't let me stay here, even though I said you'd pay the bill.'

  'If you're broke, who's paying?'

  'No one, yet. I'm depending on you, Ma.'

  Dodie smiled grimly. 'That figures.' She wondered how much it would cost her this time, and what other bills apart from the hotel Jake had run up. She went to pour herself a drink, but didn't offer him one. He'd raided the fridge and had several drinks already. 'I thought you were in Florida.'

  'I got bored. And the cruise seemed like a good idea.'

  'You mean there was trouble. Were the police after you?'

  'You'll never believe me, will you? You always take the part of the old hags. They get frightened, or their children turn them against me, or I get bored with them thinking they can order me about just because they have money. They want what I can give them, but like all rich bitches they don't want to pay a fair price.'

  'They must be really desperate. You're not staying here. If you want sympathy go and see your gran. She always spoiled you and fell for your daft stories. I'll give you enough for your hotel bill and a ticket back to England, and an extra thousand provided you're out of Madeira by the first plane tomorrow. You can be crying on your gran's shoulder by teatime. Now go and pack.'

  He held out his hand. 'Thanks, Ma. I knew you'd turn up trumps. I'll take the cheque now.'

  'Not likely. I'll give it to you at the airport, when I've booked your flight.'

  Jake frowned, then shrugged. 'You're ashamed of me. OK, I understand. I suppose you don't want me to meet whoever it is they're interviewing? I didn't think the husbands who survived lived here?'

  'They don't.'

  'Have they descended to interviewing your lovers too? That'll take a long time. Are you by any chance about to reveal to the world the secret of my paternity?'

  'Jake, go away. You're giving me a headache. You've been a nuisance ever since I was mug enough to keep you instead of letting someone else adopt you.'

  Jake wasn't listening. 'That would be amusing. It might even be interesting – if my dear daddy's rich or important as you've always tried to make out. I'm sure he'd like to meet his long-lost son. Think of the publicity! My talents would be in even greater demand, especially in American TV. Chat shows, a new part, a big publishing deal for my story.'

  'Except that there's nothing to tell.'

  'I wouldn't be too sure of that. He might be worried. Let's be friends for at least a couple of hours. Won't you even have dinner with me?'

  'I prefer to be alone.'

  He grinned as he heaved himself to his feet. 'Fame's going to your head, Ma. You vant to bee alo-o-one. Couldn't you make it two thousand?'

  'One, providing you scarper, or nothing.'

  He shrugged. 'A thousand, then, and I'll get out of your hair. Make it cash?'

  'Don't be a fool. A cheque. I'll arrange the ticket, and give it to you tomorrow.'

  Jake grimaced, but went towards the door. 'Make it as early as possible. Sweet dreams, darling Mama. Don't have nightmares about my revelations.'

  *

  Dodie buried her head under the pillow and tried to block out the clatter of a heavy metal band, which muffled but did not drown the roar of twenty jet aeroplanes screaming past within inches of her ears. There seemed to be an unmusical bell-ringing contest happening somewhere too, and right beneath her bed a dozen volatile Italian cooks were singing arias while hurling iron pans around.

  Then she awoke properly, and feebly clutched her head. The noises merged into a confused thumping and clanging, and she knew she was in for a day or more of utter misery. There was something urgent she had to do, but couldn't remember what. If she could find the bathroom and her pills she might feel partly human in a couple of hours.

  It was less than an hour later when there was a discreet knock on her door. Dodie heard it because it was gentle and insinuated itself under the cacophony in her head.

  'Mrs Fanshaw? Are you there? Tod and I are off first thing tomorrow, and he wants some more pics.'

  Dodie groaned, and uttered a feeble invitation. When Jylli closed the door with a sharp click she groaned again and clung to her temples to stop her head from exploding.

  'Mrs Fanshaw! Are you all right?' Jylli exclaimed, and Dodie winced, then tried to stop because any movement hurt.

  'Dear girl, don't bellow at me,' she managed. 'It's just one of my migraines. If I'm left quite alone I'll live, perhaps. But I'm not having photos taken of me in this state.'

  'I should think not! You look absolutely ghastly,' Jylli whispered, and the hissing consonants made Dodie shudder. 'Is there anything I can do for you? Do you want breakfast?'

  Dodie tried to believe the child meant well, but it was a struggle and she soon gave up. 'Not unless you want me spewing all over the room,' she muttered through clenched teeth. 'Bring me my handbag, will you. Don't open the curtains!' she added as Jylli brushed against them and a dagger shaft of sunlight pierced the gloom.

  'Here you are,' Jylli whispered, tip-toeing round the bed.

  Dodie raised herself on one elbow and extracted her cheque book. 'Can you find my pen? Thanks. Listen, I haven't the energy to repeat it. My son's here. Jake Jakes.'

  She flinched at Jylli's squeak of excitement. You'd think the child had enough of theatre people. Those of her mother's relatives who weren't aristocrats had been chorus girls and circus acrobats. Dodie quaked at the thought of flying trapezes and dragged her mind, such of it as she still controlled, back to immediate concerns.

  'This is a cheque for him. And this one's for cash, the hotel will change it. It should be enough to pay his hotel bill and buy a single ticket to London, first plane possible. I want you to settle the bill, buy the ticket, and give it to him. Keep the change. Please telephone Bill and Valerie and explain why I can't make lunch. And call me when you get back to London. Thanks.'

  Resolutely she subsided and shut her eyes. After a doubtful look Jylli decided it would not be a welcome gesture to offer to plump up the pillows, so she crept from the room clutching the
two slips of paper.

  She'd never met Dodie's son, Jake, and Dodie had been adamant he was to play no part in this project. Jylli had wondered why. Was it some odd form of jealousy, a middle-aged mother resenting the son's success? Whatever, it provided her with a wonderful opportunity of getting some background information. It might not be possible to use it, of course, since Dodie's agent had put so many restrictions into the contract, but it would perhaps suggest an angle, provide an ambience, give illumination, and anyway she'd had a crush on him when she was at school.

  An hour later Jylli was sitting on one of the hotel terraces with Jake, her eyes wide as she listened to his childhood recollections.

  'And you didn't see Dodie for years?' she breathed. 'How terribly sad! You must have been a really lonely little boy.'

  'I saw her briefly, between marriages,' Jake sighed. 'Of course the old girl did her best, but it wasn't the same, being brought up by your gran in the East End instead of living it up with rich American step-fathers.'

  'I'm going to see Dodie's second husband next week. Joe Broughton. Is he very rich?'

  'He was until she milked him of a vast settlement. But instead of being satisfied she had to find another mug with a few millions, and trick him into marrying her too.'

  'Trick? You mean the Brazilian millionaire? Really?'

  Jake grinned. 'Feminine wiles. She was determined my darling little sister could claim a rich father. And it worked. Elena always had everything she wanted, damn her. Jylli, can't I persuade you not to buy that damned ticket?'

  'But that was what she told me to do. And to settle your hotel bill.'

  'She won't know. Look, I won't use it, and even if you could manhandle me onto a plane I'd turn round and come straight back, so it really would make more sense not to try. Tell you what, give me the cash, I'll pay my bill at Maclean's, and we can split the fare, then we'll both benefit. You'll have some spare cash, and I'll be able to enjoy the sunshine here for a few more weeks instead of the fog at home.'

  'But Mrs Fanshaw will know. She's staying here until after Christmas, I believe.'

  'I don't intend to meet her, I've other plans. And she'll no doubt be gone by New Year. She gets bored very quickly. And if I do meet her I'll say I used some of her conscience money to fly back. She can't blame you. No harm in that, I suppose?'

  Jylli demurred, but Jake was very handsome, better even than on the screen, and when he smiled in that particular way her insides went all gooey. She couldn't resist the wistful look in his eyes, so in the end she agreed. It had nothing whatsoever to do with the promise he made of looking her up once he was back in London, she insisted to herself, though it would be wonderful if he did. That would just show her sister, with her big house and rich banker husband, that she could find exciting men too. It would be something to boast about to know, perhaps even have a relationship with, a minor star of a TV soap. She would not split the money however. Shaking her head, she handed over both cheques, and reluctantly went to pack.

  ***

  Chapter 2

  Maria Maclean, though plump now, was still beautiful despite her fifty years. Tall and stately, she retained her lustrous black hair and sparkling hazel eyes. It was clear where Isabella had inherited her looks. Both women, though, were looking far from their best as they shouted at one another.

  'You are a wicked liar!' Maria hissed. 'Tell me where you were, or you will spend the rest of the day in your room with just bread and water!'

  'Why should I tell you?' Isabella screamed back at her. 'I'm not a child. I don't have to tell you where I am for every minute of the day! If I do my work here I can have some time to myself.'

  'You lied. You were going to visit Rui, but you went somewhere else.'

  'I didn't say I was going to see him.' Isabella knew she sounded sulky, but she didn't care. She was grown up now, she was entitled to a life of her own, to make her own decisions.

  'You always go to see him on your days off,' Maria stated flatly.

  'Then it's time I had a change. It's boring doing the same things week after week.'

  'Boring? Being with your fiancé?' Maria laughed scornfully. 'You are stupid! You don't know how fortunate you are to be betrothed to such a fine young Madeiran, with a thriving family business to inherit one day.'

  'I am not stupid! And Rui is boring. He has no ambition. He's content to stay here working for his family or mine all his life, and I want to do exciting things.'

  'What things? You want to go to Lisbon, to waste your time at the university when you know you will come back here and marry Rui afterwards. Why squander the time and money?'

  'I don't want to marry Rui,' Isabella said defiantly.

  'That's foolish talk, and wicked. You agreed when we suggested the betrothal, and you cannot change your mind now.'

  'I was only sixteen then. I didn't know much else. And I don't love him.'

  'Love! You've been reading too much trash. What use is love compared with a good man and a prosperous business?'

  'I don't love him,' Isabella repeated stubbornly.

  'You think there is someone wonderful waiting for you somewhere?' Maria was scornful. 'That foolishness belongs to books.'

  Isabella suppressed a smile. What would her mother say if she told her that someone wonderful had come to her, wanted her, and meant to carry her off to an exciting life away from this small, tediously respectable island? But Jake had warned her most particularly not to say anything at home yet. She knew he was right, her mother would be angry, but part of her wanted to be done with all the secrecy, to proclaim her love. And surely the world had changed, even here in Madeira, since her parents had married more than thirty years ago.

  'You found someone your parents hadn't meant you to marry,' she said. 'You even ran away to England with my father. Why can't you let me make my own choice?'

  'I knew your father would come back.'

  'He'd be made to come back, you mean,' Isabella muttered.

  'What do you say? He came back willingly!' Maria insisted.

  'With Uncle Carlo's knife at his throat!'

  Maria bit her lip. 'How did you know that?'

  Isabella wished she had not let her anger betray her into revealing this secret, which she knew her mother would hate to have known. 'Grandmother told me once, when I said I wanted to go to the university. She said that even if I ran away, and tried to marry someone else, my brothers would fetch me back, as yours had fetched you! But I don't believe they would, it's barbaric.'

  'It was a joke! Your father was prepared to return here, to become one of the family.'

  Having started this diversion Isabella suddenly could not resist probing it further. 'Is that why he has so many books about the Anglo Saxons in England? He's always buying them. He was going to teach at one of the universities, wasn't he? Before he met you.'

  'That changed his mind,' Maria said more calmly, and smiled. 'Have you found anyone like that? Someone who loves you enough to give up his own dreams? No, you can't have done, I keep too close a watch on you.'

  Isabella almost said that her lover was stronger, and would ensure that her dreams came true, but prudence belatedly prevailed. 'How did you know I hadn't been to Rui's?' she asked, anxious to deflect her mother from thoughts of how she might have met anyone else. She was sure she wouldn't be able to keep her new-found love secret from her mother if Maria saw her and Jake together. Their bliss would illuminate everything. In fact Isabella wouldn't be surprised if bells rang and lights flashed, and a heavenly choir descended to sing anthems of joy.

  The thought of heaven made her hesitate, then she shrugged off her doubts. Jake wasn't a Catholic, but he'd insisted that as they were soon to be married, what they had done was allowed. It wasn't sinful between lovers who meant, as soon as possible, to ask God's blessing on their union. It was old-fashioned, he said, foolish to deny themselves the natural expression of their love. If they waited for the wedding, which was really only an excuse for all their friends and
relatives to have a party, would she like to think of all those people speculating on their activities, giggling and making crude remarks, imagining them in bed together? Isabella blushed at the very idea. But that was what would have happened if she'd married Rui. He had never done more than kiss her chastely. He wasn't so passionately in love with her as Jake was that he couldn't wait to possess her. In fact she doubted if he loved her at all. He was simply doing what their families had decreed. It was so backward, so primitive!

  'He telephoned,' Maria answered. 'He was worried about you. We all worried, until you came home at almost midnight. Where had you been?'

  'I went for a walk along the levadas,' Isabella said, keeping to some of the truth. 'I wanted to be alone, out in the fresh air after spending all week in the hotel.'

  'You are crazy. There is fresh air here, when you go shopping for me. And you were not walking for hours after it grew dark! It must be your father's blood in you. The English are all mad and the Scots worse. But you will have no more days off to spend dreaming. In future Rui will come here, and we'll begin to think about a wedding as soon as Christmas is over.'

  An hour later Isabella, abandoning her usual caution, was in Jake's room, sobbing in his arms. 'I won't be able to come with you again,' she wailed. 'My mother is a fiend, she'll watch every step I take.'

  'But she won't keep you in the hotel all the time, will she?'

  'No, she needs me to work here, but I won't be allowed to leave Funchal, and I'll only be able to get out for an hour or so when I'm sent shopping. And there's nowhere private for us to meet here.'

  'Don't worry. I have a plan. Did I tell you my mother is staying here, at the Cliff Bay? She'll help us. She's longing to see me settled down with a beautiful girl like you. But I do think I'd better leave here in a few days. No,' he added as she protested and clung to him, 'it's not safe to meet here regularly, as you said before. Besides, how could we disguise what we feel for one another under your mother's eyes?'