Daughter of Riches

by Janet Tanner

  At first Debbie was excited at the prospect of going with him – her world had been so narrow Jersey seemed to her like an island paradise – but Louis soon made it clear he had no intention of taking her along. Debbie was to stay in London. He didn’t want her along on ‘business trips’ and anyway, didn’t she have some modelling commitments?

  Debbie did, and although they were far less important to her than being with Louis she knew all the same that she could not afford to show herself as unreliable. And so, whilst Louis made his frequent trips across the water, Debbie presented herself at photographic studios all over London to model lingerie for catalogues and make-up for the brochures of a well-known mass market cosmetics firm. She even did a TV commercial for a chocolate bar, shivering in a summer dress in a punt on a bright but freezingly cold winter day and trying to devour the chocolate bar with the kind of sensuousness to make viewers lick their lips with her.

  Sometimes when Louis came home he spoiled her, as if to make up for his absence, bringing her luxurious presents and once taking her away for the weekend to a cottage on a grand country estate which he said he had access to. The weather had been crisp and cool and they had a real log fire in the grate and the guests at the big house, mostly titled, except for a film actor and his model wife, had called in for drinks at lunchtime and in the evening. Louis had taken her round the grounds and had almost made love to her in a deep drift of bone dry dead leaves – almost, but not quite, they had gone back to the cottage and done it on the rug in front of the roaring log fire instead. Louis had also shown her the swimming pool, empty now, with the covers on for winter, and told her about the pool parties that were held there in the summer. When he promised to borrow the cottage and bring her back again then Debbie had been delighted, thinking that it must mean that Louis still planned to be with her next summer.

  At other times though he was curt and ill-tempered with her, refusing to explain what he did during those long weeks when he was absent.

  ‘It’s business,’ he said shortly when she complained one day that after only a few days at home he was off again.

  ‘But your business is here,’ she protested.

  ‘And in Jersey. Look, I can’t stay talking now. I’ll miss my plane. I’ll see you when I get back.’

  He kissed her and she clung to him, wanting to beg him not to go but knowing it would do no good. Louis liked her to be his little girl, his kitten, but he hated it when she became clinging or cramped his style. ‘ Just remember it’s my business that keeps you in silk knickers,’ he had said once, rather unpleasantly, and the words had wounded her and resurrected all her feelings of insecurity. Debbie was still not quite seventeen and the scars of her mother’s rejection had gone deep.

  She loved Louis, she couldn’t imagine life without him. He was her sun, her moon, her stars. Perhaps that was the reason she was so afraid, so chillingly shakingly terrified that he would leave her and she would be alone again with nothing but her memories.

  Debbie thought that if that happened she might as well be dead.

  One day when Louis was away and she could bear the emptiness of the London house no longer Debbie telephoned Grace.

  She had seen less of her friend since that disastrous orgy/party as she was afraid that if Louis got to hear about it he would be very angry and his anger would spoil the precious little time they now had together. Now, however, Debbie was so lonely and bored that she decided to take the risk.

  ‘It’s me, Debbie,’ she said when Grace answered her telephone. ‘Are you doing anything?’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Yes. I’m all alone and fed up with myself. Why don’t you come over? Or we could go out – have tea at Harvey NichoIIs like we used to and do a bit of shopping. All the summer things are coming in now.’

  ‘All right. I’ll meet you in the restaurant there. Half an hour?’

  ‘Yes,’ Debbie said, smiling. She knew it would take Grace at least an hour, she was a terrible time-keeper, but at least saying half an hour would give her something to aim at.

  Whilst she waited for Grace, Debbie wandered round the lingerie department and bought a boned ivory basque and a dainty camisole in pale apricot silk. It was lovely to have money to spend on such luxuries – whatever else he might be, Louis was certainly not mean – and Debbie found herself remembering the days when she had been an underprivileged youngster in Plymouth, able to do no more than window shop and dream. She really should stop crying for the moon and be content with what she had, she told herself.

  When Grace arrived the two girls greeted one another with an enthusiastic hug and went into the restaurant oblivious for once to the attention they were attracting – the one glossy black and beautiful in a glorious suit of hot pink, the other the perfect English rose in a simple shift dress of cornflower blue.

  ‘So what have you been doing? I want to know all the gory details!’ Debbie demanded, biting into a Danish pastry without the slightest thought for her figure.

  ‘Well, I’ve got myself a new man. Handsome and titled, no less.’

  ‘Titled!’ Debbie thought of the aristocratic man in the Tarzan loin cloth and wondered if it might be him. ‘Are you going to marry him? Grace – you could end up as Lady Something or other!’

  Debbie smiled, her mobile cherry red mouth lifting engagingly.

  ‘I suppose I could! What a thought! Still at least it makes a nice change to find someone single. Most of the bastards have a wife at home, don’t they? They think they can have it all ways.’ She sipped her lemon tea. ‘How is Louis?’

  ‘Fine, as far as I know. The trouble is he’s away so much these days and it’s driving me crazy.’

  ‘Why? Freedom is not to be sneezed at, my dear. All this and freedom too …’ She spread her hands with their white-pearl painted nails. ‘But why is he away so much more than he used to be? Fill me in.’

  ‘Didn’t I tell you? His father died and left Louis a big chunk of shares in his Leisure Group – hotels and an entertainment agency of some sort I think. As the oldest son Louis seems to be taking on an awful lot of the responsibility. I suppose he’s doing very well but I don’t like it. He seems to be in Jersey more often than he’s here these days.’

  ‘Oh yes, I’d forgotten he’s from Jersey. Why doesn’t he take you with him?’

  ‘I don’t know. He likes me to be here, waiting for him.’ Debbie did not add her private fear that Louis was ashamed of her.

  ‘I know somebody from Jersey,’ Grace said reflectively, getting out a packet of Marlboro and lighting one. ‘Frank de Val. He’s some sort of politician over there. Funny, they’re often the worst, aren’t they, politicians? They are so busy trying to pretend they’re something they’re not, I suppose. And mostly their wives are really boring, solid sensible middle-class types in twin set and pearls, ideal wife, mother and committee member. Or else they’re earnest feminist left-wingers too busy trying to run round looking after everyone else to consider the needs of their own fella. Not a lot of fun either way really. No wonder the men go astray. I don’t know what Mrs de Val is like, of course, I never met her. She’s always left in Jersey – where no doubt Frank is respected as a sober senior political figure. Lord knows what the people who elected him would think if they knew what he gets up to when he’s over here!’

  ‘What does he get up to?’

  ‘What doesn’t he get up to would be more to the point! If ever there was a man with more fetishes than Frank I’d like to meet him! Black leather and bondage is one but he also likes to dress up … wait a minute, you’ve met him. He was at Simon Chambers’ party. He was prancing about serving drinks wearing nothing but a little white pinny and long black stockings. Do you remember him?’

  ‘How could I forget? That man looked absolutely ridiculous! And you say he’s a Jersey politician?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘I wonder if I dare tell Louis?’ Debbie murmured reflectively, thinking what a marvellous imitation of the little fat man she
could do to amuse Louis.

  ‘Why not?’ Grace asked.

  ‘You know very well why not! Because he wouldn’t approve at all of the company I keep!’ Debbie teased and went back to the counter for another Danish pastry.

  Chapter thirty-two

  Debbie might never have told Louis about Frank de Val if one night she had not had a little too much to drink.

  They had spent a quiet evening in with a Chinese take-away and a bottle of Chablis listening to Vivaldi. Louis was uncharacteristically quiet and Debbie, who had been getting steadily more and more tiddly, was wondering how to liven him up.

  ‘What’s wrong, darling?’ she asked, sitting on his lap and winding her arms round his neck.

  ‘Nothing. I’m just tired.’

  ‘Oh, I see. It’s the high life you’re living in Jersey, I suppose.’

  ‘You couldn’t be more wrong about that,’ Louis said. ‘ There isn’t any high life in Jersey. It’s too damned quiet and staid. All right if you happen to be a sea gull, I suppose, but otherwise deadly. They’re just a lot of stuffed shirts.’

  ‘Not all of them, surely.’

  ‘All of them.’

  Debbie giggled. ‘I could tell you about one who isn’t. I could tell you about one who is quite a lad when he gets away from the island.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘No – well, yes, you too, I suppose. But you’re quite tame compared to him.’

  ‘Oh? Who is it then?’

  ‘I’m not sure I should tell you,’ Debbie said. ‘If I told you you’d probably be very cross with me.’

  ‘Why should I be cross?’

  ‘Because …’ Debbie hesitated, half afraid to go on. But having started she could hardly stop now – Louis would probably think she had something much worse to hide. Besides the temptation was almost irresistible and if Louis was cross – well, she knew how to get around him again. ‘All right, I’ll tell you, just as long as you promise not to tell me off. Once, when you were away, I was really fed up with myself and I went to one of Simon Chambers’ parties with Grace. I know you don’t like me seeing her but I was very good, I promise. In fact the party was so wild I only stayed a little while and then I made my excuses and left, as the News of the World reporters used to say.’

  ‘Kitten! You know what that girl is like …’

  ‘Yes. I know. Hush, or I won’t tell you. There was this man there, dressed up in a French maid’s outfit – I mean really – a little white pinny and high heeled shoes, stockings and nothing else.’ She giggled again. ‘He looked ridiculous, Louis, and he wobbled when he walked – like this.’ She jumped up off his lap and demonstrated.

  Louis laughed. Debbie could be a born comedienne when she tried.

  ‘Very amusing! Doesn’t sound much like anyone from Jersey though. And now you know why I warned you off Grace. I hope you won’t do anything so stupid again.’

  ‘I won’t. But he was from Jersey, Louis. Grace told me his name. She said he was a politician there – Frank de Val.’

  Louis’s eyes narrowed. For a moment Debbie thought he really was angry, then a slow smile curled his lip.

  ‘Frank de Val, eh? Are you sure?’

  ‘Quite sure. Do you know him?’

  Louis did not answer that. ‘ Well, well, Frank de Val one of Simon Chambers’ party boys! What a turn-up for the books! I’m only surprised I’ve never heard it before.’

  ‘Why would you? They’re a whole different set. I don’t think Benny would even have them in his club.’

  ‘No, they do keep themselves pretty much to themselves,’ Louis agreed. ‘Now I can see why. They’re a load of perverts.’ His tone was so scornful that Debbie was quite taken aback. She had never visualised Louis as a champion of moral standards though certainly for all his profligate ways there was nothing quirky about his sexual appetites.

  ‘I don’t think I could ever fancy you again if you dressed up in a French maid’s outfit,’ she said, nestling her head against his shoulder.

  ‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ Louis said, pulling her close.

  But although he began making love to her his mind was already busy.

  Since coming into his share of the Langlois empire Louis had had all kinds of ideas to extend the hotel chain. He was greedy for the rich pickings that were there for the taking from well-to-do locals and holidaymakers alike, and his ideas included the gaming clubs and casinos of which he himself was so fond. But his plans had come up against a seemingly unmovable stumbling block – the ancient and very strict laws forbidding such a development. Louis had begun to think, regretfully, that there was no way he could get around them. Now he turned over in his mind what Debbie had told him and thought that perhaps he had found a chink in the defences. Frank de Val was a senator. He was, perhaps, only one voice in the States – the island parliament – but he was much respected and well-liked. If anyone could talk his fellow senators around, it was Frank. And Debbie had presented Louis with a way of getting Frank on his side.

  Louis kissed Debbie hard and long. Her lips were soft and sweet from the lip gel she had used this evening. But Louis tasted only the heady flavour of anticipated success.

  Sometimes in the long and lonely days when he was away Debbie wondered if Louis was true to her. Somehow she could not imagine that he was. Louis was too physical a person to be satisfied with just one lover for very long, particularly when they were separated so much of the time. The very thought of Louis with someone else made Debbie feel physically sick, but when she could not put it out of her mind all together she tried to rationalise her suspicions.

  At least she was the one steady relationship in his life. She was his kitten, installed in his London house. She was the one he came home to.

  What Debbie had forgotten however was that whilst Louis had lived in London for the five years since he had crossed swords with his father, Jersey was also his home. His roots there went very deep – and so did his attachments. And one weekend, one of their lovely precious shared weekends, Debbie came very close to learning the truth about the way Louis spent his time when he was back in Jersey.

  It was about noon on a Sunday. Louis had arrived home on the Friday evening complaining how hot London in June could be and how he would have liked to stay in Jersey. Debbie had said nothing – she was very afraid of rocking the boat – and after a pleasant evening at a riverside club his humour had improved. He had some business to attend to on the Saturday but to her delight he had taken her along, and in the evening he had managed to wangle an invitation to the country house estate cottage where he had taken her in the winter.

  The covers were off the pool now and with the others in the party they had shared a barbecue and drinks at the poolside and swam until it became too cool to be pleasurable any more. Louis and Debbie had been invited to stay overnight but to Debbie’s relief Louis had declined the offer. He had a business appointment arranged for the following morning, he explained, and Debbie was glad. Much as she was enjoying the company, now that she saw Louis so rarely she preferred to have him all to herself. They drove back to London, Debbie driving the white convertible Louis had bought her.

  Next morning Louis had got up early and gone off for his business meeting leaving Debbie in bed. After a lovely lazy lie-in when she marvelled at how little sleep Louis could exist on she got up, took a leisurely, bath and went through her beauty routine. They were going out for lunch and Louis had said he would be back in good time to pick Debbie up.

  She was in the bedroom deciding which dress to wear when the telephone rang. She ran to the living room, wearing only her frilly lace body, to answer it.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Oh!’ The voice at the other end was startled, little-girlish. ‘I think I must have the wrong number.’

  An intuitive prickle ran up Debbie’s spine.

  ‘Who did you want to speak to?’

  ‘Louis Langlois. But …’

  ‘This is Louis Langlois’s home but he’s not here at
the moment.’ Debbie’s tone was icy. ‘Can I tell him who called?’

  ‘Yes.’ Beneath the childish tone was something that might have been aggression. ‘Please tell him it was Molly. He can call me back if he likes.’

  ‘Will he know where to reach you?’

  ‘Oh yes, he’ll know.’

  Debbie was seething as she put the phone down. The cheek of it! A woman – calling him here! To her knowledge it had never happened before, not since she had moved in certainly. She went back into the bedroom but she was completely unable to concentrate on deciding what to wear, pulling out dress after dress and discarding them on the bed. By the time Louis came home she was in a fine state and still wearing only her lacy body.

  ‘Not ready then?’ he said, coming into the room and eyeing her impatiently. ‘I have a table booked for one o’clock – didn’t I tell you?’

  ‘Never mind lunch! I’ve had other things to think about.’

  ‘Such as what?’

  ‘A woman phoned for you. She wants you to ring her back.’

  ‘A woman? Who?’

  ‘She said her name was Molly and you’d know where to reach her.’

  ‘Molly! What did she want?’

  ‘How should I know? You’d better ring her back and find out.’

  He laughed. ‘Come here, Kitten. I love it when your claws are showing.’

  ‘No. It’s not funny, Louis. Who is she?’

  He reached for her anyway. ‘Molly is my sister-in-law. She is. married to my brother Robin. So you see you don’t have a thing to worry about.’

  ‘Oh.’ The relief was so great she wanted to cry; so great that it did not occur to her to wonder just why she knew so little about Louis’s family.

  Neither did she realise, as he kissed her and ran his hands over her body, displayed to its best advantage in the pretty ivory lace, that in telling her Molly was his sister-in-law he had only given her half a story.

  For almost as long as she could remember Molly had been hopelessly in love with Louis.

  She had begun life as Molly Feraud and she had grown up with the Langlois boys. It was Molly’s mother, Susan, who had rescued Sophia on the beach the day that Robin was born and as a result the two women had become firm friends. They visited one another regularly, and took the children on joint outings, picnics, holidays, and Christmas trips to the theatre. Molly loved nothing better than tagging along behind the two boys on her plump little legs though they thought her a dreadful nuisance and escaped from her whenever they could, bringing down the wrath of Sophia on their heads when Molly, sobbing and red-faced with temper at being left behind, went running home to tell what had happened.