Outrageous Fortune

by Lulu Taylor

  ‘Hello, Mum.’

  Michelle opened her eyes and a look of joy appeared on her face. ‘Chanelle! You’re here.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Coco sank down into a chair beside the bed. ‘So, how are you doin’, Mum?’ She couldn’t help slipping back into her old accent.

  ‘Not so good.’ That was apparent from the thick rasp in Michelle’s voice, the roar in her chest every time she took a breath. ‘This emphysema’s gonna get me, love.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Coco leaned over and took her hand. ‘I guess so.’

  There was a long pause while they held hands, then Michelle drew in another tortured breath and said slowly, ‘Oh, well, babe … I’ve had a good life.’

  Coco fought the impulse to jump to her feet and screech, ‘No, you fucking haven’t! You’ve had a bloody miserable life and you made mine miserable too!’ What’s the point? What can she do about it now? She’s dying.

  After a while, Michelle squeezed her hand and looked up at her pitifully. ‘Chanelle, was I … was I a good mum to you?’

  Coco stared down at her. She could see death all over the older woman’s face. What was there to be gained from hurting her now? ‘Yeah. You were. The best.’ She squeezed her mother’s hand in response and smiled at her.

  ‘Thank you, love. I know I wasn’t always there for you. It was hard for me. I was very depressed at times, I know that. But … I always loved ya, Chanelle. You gotta know that.’ Her mother’s eyes filled with tears that slid out and trickled down her sunken cheeks.

  ‘I do. And I love you too.’ As she said the words, Coco realised she meant them. All these years she’d convinced herself that she hated her mother, but she knew now that she really did love this poor, sick woman. Even though she resented the years wasted on drugs and booze, all the chaos and selfishness and desperation, and still felt desperately sorry for the child she’d been – little Chanelle Hughes, who’d had to grow up too soon and look after herself and her mother too – she also pitied Michelle and knew that, despite everything, her mother had loved her in her own way. Tears sprang to her eyes, burning her lids, and her nose prickled. ‘Mum,’ she whispered, feeling overcome, ‘did you hear me? I love you. And I’m sorry too … that I walked out on you and left you alone.’

  Michelle sighed as though Coco’s words had somehow released something in her, and smiled. She closed her eyes and there was a long pause when it seemed she might have slipped back into sleep. Then she stirred and opened them again.

  ‘Mum,’ Coco said hesitantly. She felt closer to her mother now than she ever had. Perhaps this was the time for them to be honest with each other. ‘There’s one thing you can do for me. It’s … I want to know … who my dad was?’

  ‘Your dad?’ It came out on a long whirring exhalation.

  ‘Yeah – do you know who he was?’ All this time, she’d had an inkling who he was. There was only one thing left her mother could do for her now, and that was to tell her the truth.

  ‘Your dad,’ Michelle repeated, looking confused. ‘Oh, God.’

  ‘Mum … was it … was it …’ Coco hardly wanted to say it out loud but she couldn’t stop herself. ‘Was it Gus?’

  Her mother’s eyes widened and she looked startled. ‘Gus?’ she rasped.

  ‘Yeah.’ Coco couldn’t help speaking more urgently, leaning close to her mother, every nerve of her body straining, desperate to hear the answer. ‘It was him, wasn’t it? That’s why he was so kind to me. He gave me those dance lessons, remember? He always treated me differently. He wasn’t like the other people you knew … and why were you friends at all if it wasn’t for sex?’

  ‘Gus.’ It seemed to leave Michelle’s tired voice on a sigh. ‘Yeah. Yeah, that’s right. He’s your dad. Gus is.’ She took another breath. ‘I always liked him, even if he was posh. He was an artist. Came from some rich family, though he didn’t have much money himself. Mad as a hatter though.’ Michelle dragged in another rasping breath. Coco willed her to carry on and eventually she said, ‘He was a … drop out. He took a shine to me and I liked it round his. There was tea. Food. He was kind to me. He gave me cash as well – not to have sex, but just because he liked me. So we did have sex.’ Michelle looked up at her daughter. ‘And you’re his. You’ve got his eyes. There’s no mistaking that.’

  ‘So he knew about me?’ Coco swallowed. There seemed to be a hard lump in her throat.

  Michelle shook her head slowly. ‘Nah. But he was good to you all the same, ’cos you was mine. Maybe he suspected. I dunno. I went round to tell him I was pregnant but he was all of flutter ’cos he’d been seeing some other girl – posh like him – and got her up the duff. And she was married. So I didn’t tell him. But he was always nice to you, so maybe he guessed.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum,’ Coco said in a soft voice. She felt a sense of completeness that she’d never known before. It was what she had always suspected. At last I know who I am. ‘Thanks for telling me.’

  They didn’t speak for a while. Coco sat there lost in thought, holding her mother’s hand as the old woman slept, exhausted by her long speech. She stayed until the nurses finally came and told her that she had to leave.

  Finally she kissed her mother’s dry cheek and stroked back her hair. ‘’Bye, Mum,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll come back and see you soon.’ Then she turned and walked out of the ward.

  That night, Daddy took Coco to the Dangerfield Florey for dinner. No one would have guessed that just a few hours earlier the beautiful girl in the gold Gucci dress had been at the bedside of her dying, drug-destroyed mother in one of the poorest areas of London. I’m good at hiding where I come from, she thought ironically.

  They dined on roast langoustines and poulet de Bresse en cocotte, the waiters scurrying about to make sure that the boss had perfect service, and then the mâitre d’ made crêpes Suzette at the table for them, preparing them in a silver chafing dish over a tableside gas burner.

  ‘A Florey speciality, my dear,’ Daddy said softly as the maître d’ expertly spooned the orange caramel sauce over the crêpes, then added and ignited the brandy.

  ‘It looks wonderful,’ she said sincerely, and thought it tasted just as marvellous. Life wouldn’t be so bad, would it, if she had these small pleasures to help her through? Better than lying sick in a hospital ward, that was for sure.

  Coco savoured the citrus toffee of the crêpe and then said, with studied casualness, ‘Daddy, tell me about the Dangerfield Foundation. Margaret mentioned it and I wondered what it does.’

  He instantly perked up. ‘Ah, yes. A wonderful thing! It’s going to guarantee fame for the Dangerfield name, probably for the rest of time. Margaret introduced me to the professor and his marvellous ideas. He is discovering the way to eternal youth.’

  ‘I’ve seen her give you those injections.’

  ‘Absolutely. She is keeping me in perfect health with a serum made from extremely rare ingredients. I’m lucky enough to have the natural version – a synthetic one is being created for general use.’ Daddy looked puffed up with importance. ‘I’ve made generous grants to the Foundation over the last few years, and the professor decided to name it after me in thanks. We have a little deal …’

  Coco raised her eyebrows. ‘A deal?’

  Daddy looked uncomfortable and coughed. ‘Yes … an arrangement. But it’s nothing that need concern you, dear, it’s just business.’ His face darkened. ‘Not that my wretched son understands such things.’

  Coco froze for a second and then carried on eating, trying to keep her composure. ‘Oh? Has Will been in touch?’ She hoped her voice was giving away nothing about the way his name made her feel.

  Daddy’s face darkened. ‘His lawyers have been pestering me about the Foundation, demanding accounts and audits and God only knows what. Poking their noses in! And I know that he and his sister intend to sue me. Thanks to your report, I can guess exactly what charges they intend to bring. I’m more than ready to defend myself. I’m expecting the writ daily. Well, well …’ A cunni
ng expression settled on his face as a waiter approached, carrying a silver salver with a large domed lid. ‘What’s this? Why, I do believe it’s an extra course for you, Coco.’

  The waiter put the salver down and bowed. ‘For madam,’ he said, and lifted the lid, revealing a turquoise ring box with ‘Tiffany’ stamped across it in black letters.

  Coco gasped.

  Daddy was smiling fondly at her. ‘Open it, my dear.’

  She picked it up and opened it. Inside, on a bed of white silk, was a huge square-cut yellow diamond ring. Around it were a score of smaller white diamonds set in a double border around the central gem, and the diamonds continued round the platinum band. Light flashed off it, revealing the extraordinary golden hue within. It was dazzling.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Coco said in a faint voice, hardly able to believe her eyes. She was stunned. This was completely unexpected.

  ‘Now, don’t worry,’ Daddy murmured, leaning forward and taking her hand. ‘I know it’s sudden. This doesn’t mean I want anything to change between us, in the private arena. It simply means I want to protect you. If I die – which, of course I won’t, with the help of the professor’s amazing work – I want to be sure that you are looked after. And I’m very fond of you, my dear. More than fond. I can’t imagine life without you. Coco – will you marry me?’

  77

  THE WOMAN AT the airline checkin desk was making eyes at him, but Will ignored her. It was a hazard of travelling first class and having all his own teeth: the girls always gave him a special smile.

  ‘I hope you enjoy your trip to London, sir,’ she said, returning his ticket and boarding pass to him. ‘Please let us know if we can help in any way.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said. He hadn’t made this trip for a long time and, as he headed for the first-class lounge to grab something to eat before boarding – he always liked to settle down and sleep for as long as possible during the flight – he wondered if he was doing the right thing.

  Of course I am, he told himself. Besides, I’ll get to see Sarah and the kids. They won’t even know what their uncle looks like at this rate.

  He settled down with a newspaper and ordered a sandwich to be served to him later on. In thirteen hours he’d be in London. He had once believed he would never go back and yet here he was. The thought of Coco passed through his mind, but he pushed it away. She was gone. Finished. That was over. It had been the weirdest interlude of his life: he’d really fallen for her, and those few weeks they’d spent together had been bliss of a kind he’d never known before. He’d connected with another human being and thought, for the first time, that he understood what songs and poems were talking about when they harped on about love. Even when Xander had exposed her past, he hadn’t cared. And when she’d opened up to him, it had felt precious, a privilege, to hear the truth about her suffering. But all along she’d been a spy in his home, the viper in his bosom, working for the man he despised most in the world – and that was unforgivable.

  Sometimes he wondered if he should have let her explain why she’d done it, but he dismissed that thought. There was no excuse she could possibly make for betraying him. He tried to close it all out of his mind: the memories of the golden days they’d spent together, and the pain he’d felt when she’d gone. It didn’t work out. It happened all the time. Whatever. She might be in London, she might not. Who cared?

  It was time for him to board. He picked up his jacket and bag and headed for the departure gate.

  The flight was straightforward and Will slept nearly all the way, thanks to a sleeping mask and some ear plugs. The plane landed at a stupidly early hour but that didn’t matter. He’d slept well and would soon adjust to the time zone. A black BMW was waiting to take him into town. He’d go to his hotel, have breakfast and read the papers before going on to his appointment. As the BMW slid easily on to the M4 and headed towards central London, Will opened his bag and took out the sheaf of papers his lawyers had given him to look through.

  By the time he arrived at the offices of Graham & Philpot, Will had assimilated most of what the lawyers had sent him. The problem was that reading the papers kept making him hot with rage, and he’d slam them down and stare furiously into space, thinking over all his grievances and rehearsing vitriolic but factual speeches that he was sure would convince any judge that Will’s father was a crook.

  He was shown into the office of a senior partner, Neville Hanratty. Two younger solicitors were with him, both with folders open in front of them.

  ‘Ah, Mr Dangerfield, welcome,’ Hanratty said, getting up to shake his hand.

  ‘Please, call me Will.’

  ‘Very well – Will. Please sit down and let’s get started.’

  Hanratty recapped the situation quickly: Will and Sarah had reason to believe that their father had been plundering the family trust, using the proceeds to fund his lavish lifestyle.

  ‘Yes,’ Will said briefly. ‘You only have to look at what he’s got. How can he afford to buy the stuff in his wine cellar, on his walls, all the property, the cars, if he’s not taking sizable chunks out of the trust? Dangerfield PLC hasn’t paid large enough dividends. And he is the main trustee. I shouldn’t think the others would know how to say no to him.’

  Hanratty looked down at the sheet of paper in front of him. ‘No, they don’t look like financial experts to me.’

  ‘They’re business acquaintances with no financial expertise to speak of,’ Will said scornfully. ‘And if you knew my father, you’d know that he’d make sure they were well under the thumb before he put them in place.’

  ‘The other side have released some papers to us in response to our letters, and I thought you might be interested to see this.’ Hanratty passed another piece of paper to Will, who took it and scanned it quickly.

  His expression changed as he read. ‘The Gainsborough? He’s sold the Gainsborough? He’s expressly forbidden from doing that by the articles of a trust. That’s a family asset! He has no right to sell it.’

  ‘We made that point to his lawyers. Your father claims the Gainsborough was sold by his own father years ago.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s a lie!’ Will said vehemently.

  ‘Well, if we can prove that, then we can certainly prove mismanagement, and that would be enough to have your father removed as trustee and a thorough audit made on the family trusts.’

  Will threw down the piece of paper. ‘It’s not just selling assets. I’m sure he’s giving vast chunks of money to some mysterious organisation called the Dangerfield Foundation, though I can’t find out much about it. If it turns out he has been plundering money meant for Sarah and me, well – what then?’

  ‘He’ll be forced to sell his own assets to make up the missing amounts,’ Hanratty said plainly.

  ‘Good.’ Will felt a surge of satisfaction. He’d like to see his father have to sell all those fripperies and indulgences of his in order to repay the family. ‘I want you to issue the writ as soon as possible.’

  ‘There is something else …’ Hanratty said, hesitantly. He looked over at one of the junior lawyers and nodded. The younger solicitor obediently started leafing through his file. ‘Your father appears to have a new companion. We don’t have any reason yet to believe they’re married but she has been seen sporting a rather large engagement ring. They were pictured at a function last night that’s reported in today’s papers. You can see the ring very clearly in this shot. It looks as though it cost a pretty penny.’

  The young lawyer pulled out a colour photocopy of a gossip column from his folder, and passed it over. Will took it and stared. He felt the colour drain from his face.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Hanratty asked, leaning forward, concerned. ‘Do you need some water?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ The words came out in a choked voice. Will stared at the caption under the photograph: ‘… with his fiancée, Miss Coco Hughes’. A buzzing feeling in his head seemed to be getting stronger. He thought he was going to pass out.

&nb
sp; ‘Mr Dangerfield …?’

  ‘I have to … I have to go. I’m sorry.’ Will got to his feet and stumbled out. He couldn’t breathe again until he reached the street below, where he leaned against the wall of the building and gulped in great breaths of the city air, trying to calm himself down.

  Was it really true? Would she really do that to him? Did she really hate him so much she would do the worst thing she possibly could, just to hurt him more?

  But he had to believe the evidence of his own eyes.

  78

  THE TRIP TO Scotland with Christophe had provided Daisy with what she was sure was the greatest coup of her career to date.

  ‘This is going to secure everything,’ she said gleefully to him on the way home from the airport in a black cab. ‘It’s the answer, I just know it!’

  He smiled back at her. ‘You’ve really done it this time. I have to say, I wasn’t sure you could. He was a tough old nut to crack.’

  ‘He just needed careful handling.’

  ‘True. But this doesn’t solve the question of what’s going to happen with Sergei’s mine,’ Christophe reminded her.

  Daisy leaned back against the smooth leather seat, watching the city slide past the window. ‘No. That’s going to have to be Darley’s problem. I can’t see any other way. He’s going to have to face the consequences.’

  ‘He invested with company money, though.’

  ‘Fraudulently borrowed,’ she replied. ‘The Dangerfield Group has no legal responsibility towards Sergei or the mine, and after what happened to us there, I don’t think I can reasonably recommend that we remain involved. No, I’m going to tell Darley that he has to confess, and take what’s coming to him. If he’s lucky, they’ll hush it up and let him retire. Meanwhile, I’m going to see Karen first thing on Monday and ask her to set up an executive board meeting as soon as possible.’

  Christophe took her hand, smiling at her. ‘I only wish I could be there.’

  Daisy grinned back, though her stomach was already turning massive somersaults at the thought of what she was about to do.