Outrageous Fortune

by Lulu Taylor

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, as he deposited the cases and left. Do the staff know? I bet they do. They probably knew before I did.

  Now she had to decide what to take, what clothes she would need, what shoes, what books, what mementoes of the life she was saying farewell to for ever …

  As she thought this, she was overcome with horror and sadness at her situation, put her hands to her face and wept, sobbing as if her heart were broken.

  Eight hours later, as the clock ticked towards ten, Daisy went to Margaret’s office. The assistant was waiting for her, looking exactly as she had that morning.

  ‘I’m ready to sign,’ Daisy said defiantly. ‘But I have a couple of conditions of my own.’

  Margaret looked enquiring. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I want to keep my mobile phone, with the contract paid until the end of the year.’

  Margaret nodded. ‘Very well.’

  ‘And I want this.’ She produced a large silver photograph frame containing the beautiful black-and-white shot of her mother, the one that had been used on the funeral order of service.

  ‘I don’t think Mr Dangerfield requires that any more,’ Margaret replied coolly.

  ‘And …’ Daisy lifted her chin. ‘… I want a hundred grand, not fifty.’

  There was a pause and then Margaret said smoothly, ‘Very well. I shall make the arrangements. Now, if you’ve packed, I’m afraid I shall need to inspect your luggage before you go. To be sure you are not taking goods that don’t belong to you.’

  ‘Of course.’ Daisy stared the other woman straight in the eye. Margaret had agreed too fast to the sum of money she had suggested. She would have agreed to more. I should have negotiated harder. But the cold hard object tucked into the cup of her bra pressed against her breast and reminded her that she was still getting away with something.

  ‘Then if we are agreed, I’ll call a witness and we can get the signing over with immediately.’ Margaret had looked pleased, as though she’d been anticipating a great deal more trouble than this, and was glad to have been proved wrong.

  Twenty minutes later, Daisy was signing away all rights to her Dangerfield heritage. Thirty minutes after that, she had left her father’s house forever.

  23

  ‘LADIES, LADIES!’ ROBERTO clapped his hands, the sound echoing about the dance studio. The girls stopped moving and turned to look at him. He shook his head in exasperation.

  ‘Not like that!’ he said. ‘Look, watch me again, I’ll show you.’

  He went through a quick series of moves, ending with a high kick and arms spread wide. ‘Then you have to smile,’ he said. ‘Now, come on, one more time. You need to look like those Hollywood girls – the Busby Berkeley girls. Beautiful, glamorous, perfect.’

  Coco stopped, panting with the exertion but feeling exhilarated. She could hear one of the other girls moaning under her breath about having to do the routine again, but she didn’t mind. If she had her way, they’d be dancing all the time. It was such a wonderful feeling, the only time she felt as though the drabness and horribleness of her life dropped away. She only hoped that Roberto wasn’t too concerned that she wasn’t a properly trained dancer like the others. She’d stopped her lessons years ago, and had only done her dancing at the club since then. It made her feel second best. Blanche had already dropped out, unable to put up with Roberto’s constant criticism and the discipline of learning a complex routine. ‘Besides,’ she’d told Coco with a shrug, ‘I look like a giant next to you little girls. I don’t fit in the line at all.’

  She was right and Coco suspected that was why Roberto was glad to see Blanche go. He had given the girls the chance of some excitement and a bit of money away from the club because he liked them – there were plenty of other dancers who needed the work, after all. He only worked at the club himself to make some extra cash on top of his job at the studio as a dance teacher and choreographer.

  The line might look neater without Blanche, but it had been a shame to lose a friend because the other girls were less than friendly. They thought they were so wonderful because they were proper dancers, or training to be proper dancers, and word had spread that Coco worked in a lap-dancing club. That was why they avoided her, gave her sneery looks and didn’t speak to her. But they also knew that she was a good friend of Roberto’s, so they were careful to keep their scorn hidden.

  I don’t care, Coco thought, as she got back into position to start the routine from the top. The others might be properly trained but she was catching up with them quickly. She was muscular and strong from her pole-dancing routine, and she had the legacy of her ballet and modern-dance lessons. When the music began, she felt that wonderful feeling of freedom and pleasure as she danced the rehearsed steps in perfect time with the others. She loved the way they all moved together, and when the routine went smoothly, it was a joy. Her tap dancing was rusty and she practised at home in the tiny kitchen, tapping away and trying to perfect the heel-toe shuffle. It was hugely important that she got it right – they now only had three weeks until the performance, and it was a one-night event. Roberto had done her a favour, asking her to be in the line-up, knowing she needed the generous pay the gig offered, and she didn’t want to let him down.

  ‘You’re crazy to work this hard,’ Blanche would say, when Coco arrived at work already exhausted from an afternoon’s rehearsal. ‘You could make the same money in one night with me! And no need to practise either.’

  ‘Yeah, I know, I must be crazy,’ Coco would grin back, but besides Roberto, there was another reason why she was working so hard.

  She knew she wanted to get out of the clubs and away from this life, and maybe dancing was the way to do it. She didn’t mind hard work – in fact, she preferred it to the sleaziness of the club and the way she was just a piece of meat to the punters. Maybe, after this, she could get into a proper dance troupe. She’d heard some of the other girls talking during their breaks. None of them hung out with her, of course, but while they sipped on their skinny lattes and smoked endless cigarettes, they would talk loudly about auditions and jobs they were going for. There seemed to be a lot of work in the dance world: some of the girls were auditioning to be in pop videos or in films, which paid well. One had even boasted that she might be considered as a professional dance partner on one of the celebrity ballroom dancing television shows.

  It had made Coco think, and work even harder at the routines they were learning. She practised and practised until she was dancing them in her sleep.

  Roberto turned off the CD player. ‘OK, girls,’ he said, his voice echoing around the studio. ‘That’s enough for today. You can go home. Come early tomorrow, we’ve got a costume fitting. You’ve each got three outfits for the show. OK? Ciao, ladies, ciao!’

  The girls dispersed to where they’d left their things, chattering and stretching as they got dressed, put on their coats and headed out.

  ‘Coco?’

  ‘Yes?’ She looked round from pulling her jeans up over her leotard to see Roberto behind her.

  ‘Wanna go get a coffee or something?’

  ‘Sure.’

  They wandered out of the dance studio together, and headed down the back streets of Covent Garden to a café that Roberto knew. It had a little patio garden where they could smoke.

  ‘You know, this gig could be a big deal,’ he confided as they went along.

  ‘You think so?’ Coco was guarded. She hadn’t revealed her ambitions to him. After all, he worked at the club, even if it was just to supplement his income from the studio, and he might tell Sam that Coco had ideas above her station. Sam wouldn’t be too pleased to see a girl like her leaving. She was good, reliable and popular with the punters. And she didn’t do drugs.

  Roberto nodded. ‘Yeah, you should definitely make the most of it. You might not get another opportunity like this.’

  ‘What do you mean? It’s just a party, innit?’

  ‘Well … yeah.’ They reached the café, went in and ordered mugs
of tea, then took them out the back so they could smoke in peace.

  ‘So?’ Coco prodded, interested. She shook out her white-blonde hair as she expelled a stream of smoke. ‘You told me this was some bloke’s party and he wants a dance routine at it. Some glamour girls doing a bit of old-time Hollywood dancing. And there’s a singer, in’t there?’

  ‘Yeah, Haley. She’s a Rita Hayworth-style glamour puss with one of those sexy deep voices.’

  ‘Rita who?’ Coco asked, frowning. She hated stumbling on yet another area of her ignorance.

  ‘A famous redheaded Hollywood star from the forties and fifties.’ Roberto frowned and waved his cigarette to show that it didn’t matter. ‘But the point is, it’s not just any old party. Have you heard the name Dangerfield?’

  Coco shook her head and took a sip of the tea. It was made the way she liked it: strong with lots of milk.

  Roberto gave her a meaningful look. ‘The Dangerfields are really rich – I mean, rolling in it. Super-rich. I don’t know how they got their money, but they got plenty of it. And this party, well, it’s the old man’s birthday. He’s sixty or something.’

  ‘Yeah, well …’ Coco took another drag of her cigarette. ‘I guessed it had to be something like that. I mean, we’re being bussed down to his place, ain’t we, and put up at a hotel? I guessed it was someone with money.’ She was already curious to see how rich people like that lived. It was a universe away from her own experience, and the shared flat in a nasty area of Whitechapel.

  ‘Yeah.’ Roberto leaned in confidingly. ‘But the point is, there are going to be a lot of other successful people there. Rich men. In their sixties. Maybe getting a bit bored of the wife and ready to trade her in for a new model.’

  ‘Ah. I get you.’ Coco laughed. ‘You think I should go on the hunt for a sugar daddy, do ya?’

  ‘Why not, babe? You’re a good-looking girl, you’re really sexy, and you’re young and exciting. You’re dancing like a fuckin’ angel, if you don’t mind me saying. I mean it – really. You’ve got talent. Lots of those blokes would be panting to get their hands on you. I’m serious.’ He put his head on one side and gave her a sympathetic look. ‘You and I both know that you can’t stay in the club for ever. You wanna think about your future.’

  ‘I do. I do think about it.’ Coco stared down at the shiny metal surface of their table. Her reflection, blurred and distorted, gazed back. ‘I was thinking I might make a go of being a dancer … if … well, if I’m good enough?’

  ‘Babe, of course you’re good enough! What did I just say? But, honey, the world is full of wannabe dancers!’ Roberto rolled his eyes and pouted theatrically. ‘It’s a fucking hard life and, like Jesus sainted Christ, you’re finished at thirty-three! Much easier marrying some security, yeah? I fuckin’ would, if any rich bloke would have me. So, I’m just saying. When you get to this party, you better think about it. You’re not going to be in a roomful of millionaires any time soon after that, are you?’

  Coco laughed and tapped her ash on to the ground. It floated downwards, tiny grey fragments disintegrating as they fell. ‘Yeah. You’re right. Thanks, Roberto. I’ll think about it. Promise.’

  ‘How are you off for cash?’ he asked.

  Coco shrugged. ‘All right, I guess. I had a couple of good nights last week.’

  ‘Then get yourself a proper haircut, something glamorous. See if you can get some extensions put in. You’ve got a great figure, but you wanna look your best.’

  ‘Thanks a lot!’ Coco put a hand to her shaggy white crop. ‘I think it looks good.’

  Roberto pouted again. ‘’Course it does, darling. But you could look twice as good with a bit of care, though, yeah?’

  She laughed. ‘Lucky for you we’re such good friends, babe.’

  ‘I say it ’cos I love you.’

  ‘Yeah. I know.’

  24

  THE ALARM CLOCK on the bedside table rang shrilly. Daisy woke up blearily and put out one hand to turn it off. Shaking off sleep, she climbed out of bed. It was just after five and she had to be at the Excalibur at six, ready to start her duties.

  She picked up her towel, let herself out of her tiny bedsit and padded down the hall to the shared bathroom. It was aged but kept fairly clean, though the shower curtain hanging over the old bath was mottled and stained. The shower head stuck out from cracked tiling over the bath. Daisy climbed in and turned it on. The plumbing banged and shrieked as the water made its way through the old pipes and out in a warm gentle shower. She put her head underneath the soft stream.

  It was only now that she was beginning to understand the world she’d been born to – and ejected from – and to comprehend her father’s enormous power, and his arrogance. He really believed that it was possible to make her vanish from his life, erasing her like a dictator doctored photographs to remove those who had fallen from favour.

  Daisy finished her shower and climbed out of the bath to dry herself. But if he thinks that I’m going to disappear from his life for ever … well … he’s going to get one hell of a surprise.

  The plan had come to her, floating into her head fully formed a week after she had left the London house. She had gone to the only place she could think of. Lucy had been amazed when Daisy had turned up on the doorstep of her family’s Notting Hill townhouse at going on midnight.

  ‘Of course you can stay here, honey!’ she’d cried when Daisy had explained that she had nowhere to go. ‘Mummy’s away skiing anyway, and Daddy’s at some conference in Switzerland. Come in, come in. But I don’t understand. How can you have nowhere to go?’

  The girls had gone into the cosy sitting room in the basement and curled up on the big red sofas, clutching mugs of tea, while Daisy told Lucy the whole story. It had been a relief to spill it out, and she’d been unable to stem the tears as she talked. Lucy had listened in appalled fascination, occasionally leaning over to hug her friend or hold Daisy’s hand. At the end of the tale, she looked incredulous.

  ‘But, Daisy, he must be mad! He’ll change his mind surely. All he has to do is adopt you and everything will be like it was.’

  Daisy shook her head sadly. ‘No. You don’t understand. Blood really is thicker than water for him. He’s obsessed by it. I’m not his daughter, so as far as he’s concerned, that’s that. I’m on my own.’

  Lucy had been unable to believe it, telling Daisy over and over that when he’d had time to calm down, Daddy would take her back. Daisy did not argue. She didn’t even tell Lucy the truth, which was that she wasn’t even sure she wanted him to take her back, not now. How could they ever go back to what they’d had before? She’d adored him, despite everything. Despite the anger, the rages, the demands that her world revolve entirely around him … despite the way he’d treated her mother and despite the way he’d alienated Will and Sarah … despite the high standards he’d insisted she meet, and the lack of choice she’d been given in her life … despite all that, she’d loved him unconditionally. And he’d thrown that back in her face.

  Would she go back to him now and let him treat her like that again? She knew the answer to that. Never. Her heart had hardened and something inside her had died.

  For the next two days she stayed at Lucy’s, trying to sort her head out. She lay for hours in one of the guest bedrooms, thinking over everything that had happened, gathering her strength and making her plans. Sometimes she just lay there and sobbed, frightened and desperate to call her father and beg him to take her back, but she managed to stop herself. At other times, she paced about, ranting and raging, telling him all the things she was desperate to say, just for the relief of getting them off her chest. She was tormented by wondering who her father really was and why her mother had kept it a secret.

  Then she thought about survival. She and Lucy discussed what she should do, but they both came up blank. Neither girl had a clue how much things cost.

  ‘Can I buy a house with a hundred grand?’ Daisy wondered.

  ‘Maybe a small one
,’ Lucy said doubtfully, but a few minutes on a property website made them realise that there was very little a hundred grand was going to buy in London, and certainly not in Notting Hill or Kensington.

  ‘I’ve been an idiot,’ Daisy said solemnly. ‘Daddy could have easily paid me off with a million. I’ve taken nothing.’

  ‘How could he be so mean?’ Lucy breathed, round-eyed. The full implication of what had happened to her friend was only just beginning to sink in. Without the soft cushion of money, life was going to be rocky in ways they’d never once considered. Losing a dress allowance and access to the family estates was the least of it. Managing to house and feed herself would be Daisy’s main priority.

  ‘I’ll get a job,’ Daisy said firmly. ‘I’ve got experience after all.’

  ‘Have you?’ Lucy blinked with admiration.

  ‘Yes – I helped to run the shoe boutiques and I’ve listened to Daddy talking about business. I’ve looked at profit and loss sheets. I’m sure I can do something with all that.’

  ‘Won’t you need qualifications?’ Lucy asked in a small voice. ‘I mean, I know we’ve got our A-levels but … your father was going to send you to uni, and then to business school. I think you need that kind of education to do that sort of job.’

  Lucy was right, Daisy knew that. She paced about even more, thinking hard about how best to use her resources. The important thing was not to spend them, but to invest them so that the money would pay dividends and help her achieve her ends.

  That evening she was watching television when Lucy came into the den looking worried.

  ‘What is it, Lu?’ Daisy said, reaching for the remote and clicking off the programme.

  ‘I don’t understand it.’ Lucy looked pale and rather ill. ‘It’s … Dad’s just been on the phone. He asked if you were staying here. I don’t know why he would – I never mentioned to him that you were here. When I said yes, he said I had to ask you to leave immediately. And he’s flying home to make sure.’

  ‘Oh.’ Daisy felt her stomach flip over with a nasty sickly sensation. I should have been expecting something like this. She put out a hand to her friend. ‘It’s OK. Really. I expect Daddy’s been making sure I can’t hang around causing trouble. He will be working his way through my address book, ensuring that I can’t expect help from my old crowd.’