His Last Gamble (17 page)

‘The man I love, yes,' Lucy said, with a defiant lift of her chin. ‘I know I never told you this Sis, but when I came here before, I met someone,' Lucy said, still with a kind of stiff-necked pride that made Charmaine wonder why she was being so defensive.

Unless,
of course, she was ashamed to be admitting that she was actually chasing after a man. Usually men chased Lucy. So Charmaine could imagine that she might be feeling a little humiliated to be confessing to her sister that a man had dumped her, and that she was now the one doing the pursuing.

‘I see,' she said hollowly. ‘And are you . . . are you absolutely sure that he loves you?' she asked, trying to find a way to let Lucy down lightly. Because of one thing she was sure—Payne Lacey had not missed her. Not one little bit. And she was in a unique position to know!

‘Oh yes, I'm sure of that,' Lucy said, then laughed a little uneasily. ‘The thing is, Sis, things got a bit . . . messy, I suppose you could say. There were circumstances that made everything so horrible.'

Charmaine bit her lip and glanced away. Horrible wasn't the word for it.

When Lucy had come back from her holiday to Barbados, Charmaine had known at once that something was wrong—dreadfully wrong. Lucy, usually so effervescent and so sure of herself, seemed lacklustre and distracted. Worse, she'd then failed an audition that both Charmaine and their father knew she should have aced, and had proceeded to mope about her flat without any make-up on, barely eating and generally going into a decline.

Then Charmaine had begun to hear rumours. Although Lucy had a wide range
of
friends and Charmaine didn't run around in their circle, she knew people who did, and soon it was reaching her ears that Lucy had had a wild affair in Barbados with a casino-owning playboy who'd dumped her. Hard. To make matters even harder, there had been a certain maliciousness in these rumours, for Lucy, popular with both men and women alike, had always had easy conquests before, and there was a certain amount of self-satisfaction that she'd at last got her comeuppance.

Naturally, Charmaine hadn't let on to her sister that she knew about Payne Lacey. (It hadn't been hard to find out his name—after all, how many casino-owning playboys were there on Barbados?) Nor did she tell Lucy how everyone was pseudo-sympathising with her behind her back. She was having a hard enough time as it was trying to cheer her sister up and get back on track.

And then had come the day of the overdose. Mrs Peele, the lady who ‘did' for her sister twice a week had found her, and unable to get her to wake up, had quickly called a doctor.

Luckily the overdose of sleeping pills had been a mild one, and everyone had believed Lucy's story of an accident—that she'd taken two in the evening, then forgotten about them, and taken two more right before going to bed. And finding herself still to be awake and groggily tossing and turning in the middle of the night, and taking two more in the early
hours.

But Charmaine knew differently. It wasn't like her sister to accept defeat like this. She'd been so relieved when Lucy had seemed to pull out of it, and had started eating again, and had successfully auditioned for the Shakespearean part in Stratford.

So she could hardly complain now that Lucy was back and determined to take the bull by the horns. After all, it was just what she'd expect of her fearless, go-getting little sister.

So why did she feel as if she was dying inside?

Well, duh! It didn't take a genius to figure that out, did it, she told herself grimly, as Lucy began to chatter about all the good times they'd have in the next three days, which was all Charmaine had left on the island.

If Lucy was determined on something, Lucy always got it. Maybe even Payne Lacey. She was a tenacious human dynamo when she was this emphatic, and what man could resist Lucy in full battle-cry? After all, she had all of an actress's weapons right at her disposal, not to mention her moral right of a prior claim on him.

It was not as if Charmaine could, or should, compete with her.

At this, Charmaine brought herself up short. Compete with Lucy? Now where had that thought come from? Of course she wouldn't compete with her sister. Apart from anything
else,
Lucy had seen him first.

Something about this struck her as childish, and she had to fight an inane desire to giggle.

As Lucy began to talk about taking a boat out to one of the smaller islands, Charmaine tried to force herself to listen. But all she could think about was Payne. How would he react to Lucy's return? After all, their affair couldn't have been totally one sided. He must have had feelings for her. And Lucy wasn't someone easily forgotten. And even if he had thought the affair was over, and wasn't best pleased to see an ex-lover appear over the horizon—especially since he seemed to be in hot pursuit of another conquest, namely herself!—how long would it be before Lucy was reminding him of all he had missed?

She knew her sister was a sophisticated and scintillating woman, and must be a fabulous lover. She knew a lot of famous people, and had theatrical stories to tell and a store of gossip that delighted even the most jaded listener. What's more she could become beautiful, mysterious or tragic, at the drop of a hat.

How long before she herself began to fade into insignificance, and Payne regretted his proposal of marriage to her?

She would never wear that lovely ring.

At this wayward thought, she leapt up and began to pace the room. She was so distracted she didn't notice that her sister had broken off
her
sight-seeing plans and was watching her with growing concern.

Charmaine went to the French windows and looked out restlessly. How stupid could she be? Of course she was never going to wear the ring. She had never been going to accept his proposal. OK, so she'd done it out of higher moral principles—from a determination not to betray her sister. (And how cold and curiously hollow that had felt.) Well, now the circumstances had changed, but not the outcome.

Now she was never going to marry Payne Lacey because if anybody was going to, it was going to be Lucy.

‘Hey, planet earth calling Charmaine Reece. Is anyone out there?'

Charmaine blinked then spun around, forcing herself to laugh lightly. ‘Sorry, did I zone out for a while?'

‘I'll say. All the way to Jupiter by the look of it. Is something wrong?' Lucy asked.

‘No of course not,' Charmaine said, with her best newly learnt model's smile. What could possibly be wrong? She'd just loved, lost, and been proposed to by a man who would probably become her brother-in-law within the year. What was wrong with that?

‘You look like hell,' Lucy said flatly, coming towards her and looping a consoling arm around her shoulders. It was almost more than Charmaine could bear. ‘What is it with this
island?
It seems to be cursed for both of us. What's wrong? Is it a man at last?'

Charmaine swallowed hard, avoiding her sister's kind, sympathetic eyes. ‘No. You know me. No man trouble.'

Lucy nodded, but she didn't look convinced. ‘Well, as soon as I've got my little problem sorted out, we'll work on yours, OK? Remember, nobody messes with the two mousketeers and wins,' she said, shaking a fist in the air as they used to, as children.

At this remembrance of childhood solidarity, Charmaine only managed not to burst into tears by offering to help her sister unpack, and grimly thrusting every thought from her head. It left her feeling curiously numb, but numb, after a day like this, it was just what she needed.

* * *

It was the biggest gala night the ‘Palace' had ever seen. And it had seen some grand nights in its time. The best caterers on the island had been hired to provide food, and the legendary ‘cellar' belonging to the previous casino owner had been liberally poached to provide the finest in vintages. A New Orleans jazz band provided evocative memories of the swinging twenties.

Some tables had been granted a special licence for higher gambling stakes, so that
a
large crowd had gathered around a Thai businessman and a American computer pioneer who were regularly making bets of half a million dollars.

There was a heady, anything-can-happen atmosphere, coupled with an elegant recklessness that reminded Charmaine of a 1930s lavish Hollywood production. She half expected Greta Garbo to waltz through the gambling rooms trailing smoke from an ivory cigarette holder, and a bevy of men in her wake.

Anyone who was anyone was here. And a lot of people had flown in from all over the globe for the once-in-a-blue moon gambling opportunity. More than one person could be overheard wondering how Payne had managed to get the gaming commission to let him slip the leash for the night.

‘Isn't he scared someone will break the bank?' was one of the first things she and Lucy overheard as they walked through the front door and passed through the marble foyer.

‘Not him,' someone else said. ‘The man's got nerves of steel.'

Charmaine stole a quick glance at her sister, wondering how what she was thinking. But Lucy looked merely excited and intrigued, and not at all worried that her lover seemed to be taking one of his legendary, enormous gambles.

‘This is just like Payne,' Lucy said matter-
of-factly
as they made their way through the crowds to watch a game of roulette. ‘Max always said he was half mad.'

So Lucy knew Max. Well, of course she would. She'd learned over the last few days that Max Galway was one of Payne's oldest friends on the island. Naturally, they'd have met.

‘Look, there's Jo-Jo and the gang,' Lucy added, nodding across the acreage of room to where the models were clustered around a crap shoot. From the screaming encouragement and the wild groans that were echoing from over there, the dice players must be playing for heart-stopping odds.

It was almost midnight, but they were hardly late. This had all the makings of an all-night session which would, in time, turn into the stuff of legend or fable.

‘Someone's just won two million in the baccarat room,' some woman screamed in excitement to her companion, but such was scale of the night, that this was barely news. Later, she heard someone else say that a Korean gentleman had lost ten million.

It was so crowded, that it took nearly an hour for Charmaine to even spot Payne. He was dressed in black, not a tuxedo, but a plain jacket with silver buttons and elegant slacks. With his fair hair and steely grey eyes he stood out amongst the gaudily garbed crowd.

She herself was wearing a smoky lavender
gown,
one of her own creations, in gauzy chiffon. She had her hair up in what she called a ‘Lucy' special. It was one of the intricate hair designs that Lucy had learned whilst doing a period drama for the BBC. It in, she had woven real and freshly flown-over violets that looked wonderful in Charmaine's silvery hair. With the ensemble, she wore a single, pear-drop amethyst necklace on a chain so fine it was almost invisible and high, matching heels. Even Lucy had been stunned speechless when the two girls had finished making themselves up.

Her sister was in a figure-hugging, short scarlet cocktail dress, with brightly painted nails and bold lipstick. Of the two, Charmaine was convinced that everyone looked at Lucy first, then at herself as a poor second.

But when she felt eyes resting on her, and turned to find Payne just yards away, staring at her over the cowed heads of several poker players, she knew he was looking at her. Avidly.

And not at her sister.

Instantly, she tensed. This was the moment she was dreading. The first time Lucy and Payne met again.

Or was it? For all she knew, Lucy might have met with him last night. Perhaps they'd even spent the night together. How was she to know? She felt jealousy, as cruel as the grave, eat at her soul and forced herself
to
swallow it back.

She watched, helpless with longing and taunt with fear, as he wove his way towards them.

When he was almost there, Lucy turned around and the smile on her face wobbled and fell. She looked suddenly as tense as Charmaine felt.

‘Hello Payne,' Lucy said, the moment he was in earshot, almost as if anxious to get in the first word. She looked nervous and unsure of herself, things that Charmaine would previously have thought were unheard of in her sister's vocabulary.

‘Hello Lucy,' Payne said neutrally.

Charmaine, who'd been straining to hear even the slightest intonation of his voice, would have sworn he sounded reserved. Like someone meeting an acquaintance he didn't know very well. Moreover, an acquaintance he wasn't sure he wanted to cultivate.

It stunned her. What was going on? Surely he wasn't cold-shouldering her? After all that she'd learned about him, she would never have put him down as a boor.

‘Thanks for letting me come,' Lucy further stunned her by saying politely. ‘I know I'm probably the last person you wanted to see here, but Charmaine wouldn't come without me.'

Well, that was true enough. When she'd told Lucy that she and all the
Jonniee
gang
had
standing invitations to this bash-of-the-century, Lucy had demurred, pointing out that she had no invitation herself and doubtless wouldn't be let through the door. So Charmaine had asked Jo-Jo if he could wangle another invite, unwilling to talk to Payne himself. And sure enough, within the hour, an invitation in Lucy's name had appeared at the front desk.

But why was Lucy acting so . . . diffidently? It wasn't like her. Even as a child, whenever she'd done something wrong, or incurred the displeasure of an adult, she'd become cheeky and winsome, charming everyone with her aplomb.

But now she was acting . . . well, chastised.

What on earth had gone on between them to make Lucy, Lucy of all people, act like this?

‘Don't be silly,' Payne said urbanely. ‘You're always welcome at the Palace. Let me get you a drink—champagne cocktail, right?'