Riches: Snog, Steal and Burn

Caleb was just her type. Blue-eyed and dirty blonde, he looked like an Abercrombie and Fitch model. Jhumpa liked her American boys and when she’d found out he was an aspiring actor like her, they had lots to talk about. Caleb had already asked her to go and stay with him in Hollywood, said he could introduce her to a few people. Jhumpa would wait and see. Caleb might be pretty, but he could be just another jobbing barman with aspirations of being the next De Niro. No offence, but Jhumpa wasn’t going to waste her time on people who were never going to make it.

Caleb was cute, at least, and was taking her mind off things. As well as the whole drama with her dad, just before she’d left India, Jhumpa found out she hadn’t got the servant girl role in Emerald Summer.

“Too beautiful,” was what the director said, apparently. She’d be a “distraction”. Jhumpa had been devastated but put a brave face on. Everything happened for a reason. She was destined for bigger and better things.

At least she would be, once this whole weird business was sorted out. Jhumpa stared out the window again. Where are you, daddy? She’d lied to everyone about why she was taking a trip - had told no one about the weird note she’d received in the post, telling her to go to Cadwallader house, if she wanted to help her dad.

Time to myself, she’d told Bez and her friends. Get away from everything. Everyone understood, and the police had promised to keep her updated with any developments. Every time the phone went Jhumpa’s stomach dropped like a stone. Thinking this would be the call to say her dad was dead.

‘You OK?’

Caleb was sitting up, hair tousled sexily.

‘Completely.’ She pulled the silk dressing gown tighter and padded across the room. Caleb pulled her down for a kiss. His lips were as soft as clouds. Jhumpa could still feel their traces on her body.

‘Can’t you sleep?’ he asked. Nice accent, lazy Californian.

‘My body clock is all over the place.’

He gave a chuckle. ‘I can think of something we could do.’

Jhumpa smiled as Caleb’s hands started to move over her dressing gown. ‘I need my sleep.’

‘I need you,’ he said.

‘Caleb…’ she smiled warningly. He was really nice. Pity they lived on other sides of the world.

He stopped caressing and looked at her ruefully. ‘OK, I know. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.’

‘You got it.’ Jhumpa hadn’t said much, just that she had an important meeting. She put her arms round his neck, keen to move off the subject.

‘When did you get that tattoo?’ She’d noticed the small dagger behind Caleb’s ear at the bar. It didn’t seem to go with what he was about.

‘Thailand, a couple of years back. You like it?’

‘It’s alright.’ Personally, Jhumpa didn’t know why people wanted to ruin their bodies with tattoos. They were, like, mega tacky. Caleb’s was quite subtle though.

He laughed again. ‘You’re not a tattoo kind of girl, I already guessed that.’ He started planting butterfly kisses on her neck, making her shiver. ‘You’re a real lady, Jhumpa, you know that?’

His mouth felt lovely and Jhumpa’s good intentions fell by the wayside. She was thousands of miles from home, in a city where no one knew her. She needed a release. Seductively, she lowered her dressing gown.

‘I’m not always a lady.’

Caleb’s blue eyes darkened with lust. ‘And I’m not always such a gentleman.’

A hundred miles away in Gloucestershire, Luci Cadwallader hadn’t been able to sleep either. After tossing and turning for hours she’d given up on the idea. Instead she was walking round the north-east corner of the estate, her feet swishing through the long grass. It might be the middle of the night but going for a walk always made Luci feel better.

A pale moon shone down on the English countryside, bathing it in a ghostly glow. Somewhere up ahead in the woods an owl hooted. Most people would be scared to walk here by themselves but it didn’t bother Luci. She knew every blade of grass like the back of her hand.

On the slope, Cadwallader Hall stood in darkness. None of the staff had stirred when she’d slipped out. Luci shoved her hands in her pockets and carried on walking. If she stayed out here long enough the sun would rise. She didn’t want to get back into bed and be alone with her thoughts again.

It had been thirty-three days since she’d left the Orkneys, throwing everything into a suitcase while Jeremy Fitzwilliam waited. They’d flown from Glasgow airport straight to the Indian embassy in London. Everything since then had been a bit of a blur.

Luci still didn’t understand why her dad had been in Kashmir. Sure, the Indian border wasn’t that far from Bhutan, relatively speaking, but wouldn’t her father have mentioned he was going to a different country? They kept in touch as much as they could when he was away: emails, Facebook, Skype. Even though his phone was going straight to voicemail Luci was still leaving messages. Hearing his voice made her somehow feel closer to him.

The embassy had told her what they knew. It wasn’t much. For some reason unknown to everyone, her dad had been in the region and had been kidnapped by Kashmiri rebels. Quite why, they weren’t sure, but the general opinion was that the rebels had thought Luci’s dad was a spy. Luci hadn’t believed it at first. He wasn’t a spy! He was her kind, loving, dashing father who made funny origami out of notepad paper and was obsessed with watching cricket. Viscount Peter Cadwallader was a university professor, a scholar, a country gent. About as far from a spy as you could get.

But as the days had gone by and there was still no word, Luci had started to feel less sure. Her dad had definitely been away a lot more over the last year. Research, he said, and Luci had taken his word for it. Why wouldn’t she? Now, she was starting to question things. Research for what?

Then that letter had turned up, asking her to attend a meeting at her own house. Weird. At the bottom, there was a note telling her to make up two of the spare rooms. Who else was coming? Stevenson, the butler, knew nothing about it, and neither did the family lawyer when she’d phoned him. The whole thing was like an Agatha Christie movie. The more Luci tried to work out it out, the more confused and frustrated she got.

By this time tomorrow, the houseguests would be here. All Luci could do was wait. Sighing, she brushed the head of a passing cow parsley. It was going to seem like the longest day ever.

Suddenly there was a noise in the undergrowth behind her. Like someone had stepped on a twig. Luci stopped and turned round.

‘Hello?’

The woods were dark and silent. From nowhere, Luci felt a prickle down her neck. Someone or something was watching.

‘Who’s there?’ There’d been a few poachers in the area recently. Luci didn’t fancy a run in: they might turn nasty about being caught out. It was a ten-minute walk to the house and too far for anyone to hear her shouts for help.

‘Hello?’ she said again, sounding a lot braver than she felt.

Nothing. Luci frowned. Maybe she’d imagined it. Or maybe it was an animal. Poor thing’s probably more frightened than you are, she told herself.

All the same, she had a sudden urge to get out of there. Luci turned round and started walking back, but an irrational fear gripped her and she started running, faster and faster until she was pelting up the front lawns, hair flying as if the hounds of hell were in hot pursuit. At last she reached the back door and came to a shuddering, gasping halt.

Her heart was hammering so hard it hurt, Luci looked back down to the woods. They were as quiet as the grave, no sign of life. With the safety of home reached, her panic seemed like a total over-reaction.

What’s the matter with you? Luci shook her head. She’d been spending far too much time by herself lately. A cup of cocoa in the kitchen was what she needed right now.

Halfway down the corridor, Luci went back and made sure the door was double-locked again.

Chapter Six

All that could be heard was the ticking of the grandfather clock. The three girls sat in silence, looking anywhere but at each other. Celine started jangling the silver bangles on her wrist, full of restless energy. This is fun. Someone had better tell her what was going on in a minute.

She’d arrived at Heathrow airport drunk as anything. They’d stopped via Madrid and she and Remy had made full use of the VIP lounge. She could hardly remember the last bit of the flight, except for the old people making a complaint about her and Remy, and the airhostess coming to have a discreet word. Over-reaction! It hadn’t been like they were having sex or anything.

She’d said goodbye to Remy with a passionate snog in a waiting area near Arrivals. A suited chauffeur and a grey Bentley had been waiting outside to whisk her off, through the dreary London outskirts towards the countryside. That’s when she’d started sobering up and the euphoria of the last fifteen hours had quickly disappeared. In a car with no idea where she was going, a bad taste in her mouth and a banging head, Celine’s trepidation had returned with a vengeance. The last fun-filled fifteen hours with Remy had felt like some kind of amazing dream.

Now, sitting in the drawing room of this random English mansion, Celine looked over at the other girls. The Indian girl - Jhumpa, Celine thought her name was - was still tapping away on her iPhone. She clearly thought she was above everyone else. Celine didn’t like her. And what was with the smart jeans and Chanel jacket? She looked like she was about to go into a business conference.

Miss Up-Herself looked up and sighed irritably. ‘Is there anywhere with better reception? I’m trying to send an important work email and it’s really slow.’

‘Near side of the lake’s the best,’ the other girl said, Luci, the English one whose house it was.

‘The lake?’ From Jhumpa’s disgusted expression, Luci may as well have said Timbuktu.

‘Yeah.’ Luci grinned. ‘Sorry, it’s about the best place out here.’ She looked so English, Celine thought, with her shiny brown hair and fitted checked shirt. Apparently she’d just got back from riding when Celine had turned up, and was still in her jodhpurs and riding boots.

There was a discreet knock on the door. ‘Come in,’ Luci called. An old guy in a black suit walked in with a tray and set it down.

‘Thank you, Stevenson.’

‘Will there be anything else?’

‘No, thank you,’ Luci told him.

Stephenson nodded and discreetly withdrew once more. ‘You have a butler?’ Celine exclaimed. ‘How frightfully English.’

Luci looked a bit embarrassed. ‘Stephenson’s been with the family for years.’ She leaned forward. ‘What can I get you Celine, tea or coffee?’

‘Coffee, please, no milk or sugar,’ Jhumpa cut in. Celine shot her a look: don’t mind me.

They endured another painful minute of silence as Luci poured out tea and coffee. Celine wondered when they were going to eat. She was starving.

‘So,’ Luci said. ‘I guess you guys got the letter as well, then?’

‘That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?’ Jhumpa said. She looked across at the punky-haired Argentinean girl, who looked like that model Agyness Deyn. Celine. She’d obviously had a good time getting here - Jhumpa had smelt the stale alcohol on her breath when they’d been introduced to each other.

No one seemed to be saying anything, so Jhumpa took the lead. ‘So, has anyone else’s dad gone missing?’ It was said a lot more nonchalantly than she was feeling.

‘Yes, mine,’ Luci said quietly.

‘Both mine have. My parents, I mean.’ Already pale with a hangover, even more colour drained out of Celine’s face.

It quickly become evident all the girls’ parents had been kidnapped from the same place, the Kashmiri border. Despite the fact they’d told their daughters they were going somewhere else. Something very strange is going on here, thought Celine.

‘Did they know each other, do you think?’ Luci asked.

Jhumpa shrugged. ‘I don’t know who my dad was friends with in the archaeology world.’

‘But he was an archaeologist?’ said Luci, frowning.

‘Yes. Why?’

‘Mine was… is… too.’ Luci looked at Celine, questioningly.

Celine nodded. ‘Yeah. Mine as well.’

‘All archaeologists. All going missing at the same time, from the same place,’ said Jhumpa. ‘They must have known each other.’

‘My dad would have mentioned your parents, I’m sure,’ Luci said, although she didn’t sound sure at all. ‘He tells me everything about his work…’ Seconds passed, feeling like years. No one had mentioned the S-word yet. ‘Do you think our parents are spies?’ Luci ventured.

‘No way,’ Celine said. ‘My parents live for their work, there’s no way they’d have time to be spies.’

‘Have they been going away a lot more lately?’ Luci asked.

‘Yes…but that doesn’t mean anything.’ Celine creased her forehead; her parents had seemed a bit preoccupied recently. She’d never thought anything of it until now. ‘This is stupid! Who would they be spies for?’

‘At least we don’t have to wait to find out much longer,’ Jhumpa said. ‘Whoever has called this mysterious meeting will tell us what’s going on.’ She looked suspiciously at Luci. ‘You really have no idea what’s going on? This is your house, after all.’

‘I swear, I know as much as you guys. Someone’s coming here tomorrow, to tell us how to save our parents. That’s all.’

‘That’s if we can still save them,’ Celine said bleakly.

Jhumpa looked at her sharply. ‘Don’t talk like that.’

‘Why not?’ Celine demanded. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t been thinking about it?’

Luci jumped in. ‘Guys, let’s not argue. I know it’s hard but I’m sure things will become clearer tomorrow. No news is good news, hey? As far as we know, they’re still alive and well. Let’s keep thinking like that.’

Jhumpa muttered something under her breath, but Luci didn’t rise to it. If the letter was right - cancel your plans for the rest of the summer - they were going to be spending a lot of time together. They may as well get to know each other.

‘What do you do back home, Celine?’

‘I’ve just finished school.’ She rolled eyes black with eyeliner. ‘I’m meant to be going to college in the States to study archaeology. Follow in the footsteps of my famous parents.’

‘That’s a coincidence,’ Luci exclaimed. ‘I just finished my first year doing archaeology at Oxford. How cool is that?’

‘Uber cool,’ Jhumpa said sarcastically. Great, more archaeologists!

‘How about you, Jhumpa?’ Luci asked.

She tossed her hair back. ‘I’m an actress.’

‘What have you been in?’ Celine asked. All that hair flicking was starting to get on her nerves.

‘Nothing huge yet, but my agent’s got me loads of auditions lined up. I model as well, I’ve just shot an advert for L’Oreal.’

Luci was impressed. ‘Like Cheryl Cole?’

Jhumpa bestowed her with a gracious smile. ‘Yes, but mine was better produced than Cheryl’s.’

‘I’ve never seen it,’ Celine said, determined to put Jhumpa in her place. God, she loved herself!

‘That’s because it’s L’Oreal India,’ Jhumpa said patronisingly.

‘Well, I live in Argentina and I haven’t got a clue what you’re going on about. And I know about fashion.’ Celine did recognise Jhumpa’s face, actually, but there was no way she was telling her that.

‘Do you really?’ Jhumpa enquired, looking at Celine’s tie-dye T-shirt dress and studded ankle boots. ‘I assumed your invite said to wear fancy dress.’

A major catfight was about to kick off. ‘How about I show you to your rooms?’ Luci said hastily.

Jhumpa unpacked the last of her clothes and hung them up. There was a mirror on the door of the wardrobe and she had a quick sneak at her reflection. Every other mirror in this place seemed to be black with age; Luci’s family were seriously into their antiques. Jhumpa was pulling a well-practised pout, when something stopped her dead. Was that a white hair she was seeing?

This would never do, she was an L’Oreal model! Rushing over to her vanity case, Jhumpa got her tweezers out and swiftly removed the offending item. Please God; don’t let me start going grey. She’d have to start dying her hair in secret.

Hair drama over, Jhumpa wandered over to the four-poster bed. It creaked alarmingly as she sat down and for a second Jhumpa thought it was going to collapse. The chaise longue and long velvet curtains were a bit tired-looking. Cadwallader Hall had a kind of faded grandeur, like it was stuck in a time capsule from a hundred years ago. No doubt what English people referred to as having lots of “charm”.

The bed was making strange noises underneath her, so Jhumpa got up and walked over to the window. She had to admit the grounds were spectacular. Miles of lush green fields as far as the eye could see. Very different from the view of her apartment in Mumbai.

A clock chimed somewhere in the house. One hour until dinner with her new friends. That was a joke. Luci seemed all right but Jhumpa knew for a fact that Celine didn’t like her. Jhumpa didn’t care: girls were always bitchy about her. That’s what you get when you are a strong, independent woman. People felt intimidated. There wasn’t anything Jhumpa could do about it.

People may think she was a cold bitch, but that was just the way Jhumpa dealt with things. Her dad had had no idea how to relate to a little girl and Jhumpa had bought herself up, really. Early on, she’d learned to compartmentalise. There had been so many things to worry about, things she didn’t know and was scared of, that it had all become overwhelming. The only way she’d coped was to put all the problems in different boxes, tucked away in her brain. That way she didn’t think about them any more.

It was the same with her father. Jhumpa knew she should feel scared and upset, but it was like the whole thing was happening to someone else. The few occasions she’d wanted to cry, Jhumpa had dug her precious nails into her palm until she’d drawn blood. Crying was not going to help her father. She hadn’t cried since she was nine years old. She had to think practically, and find her dad.

Anything Jhumpa put her mind to, she achieved. Her father’s rescue would be no different.

They ate in the formal dining room, round a long, polished mahogany table that sat thirty. Dinner was delicious, pâté to start, Cook’s world-famous shepherd’s pie and a dense chocolate mousse to finish. Each girl wolfed her food down, suddenly ravenous. Stephenson hovered unintrusively in the background on hand to refill their cut-crystal wine glasses when they ran dry. They weren’t massive measures, Celine noticed. The butler was probably under orders to make sure they behaved themselves.

While Celine was wearing harems and a designer T-shirt, Jhumpa had come looking down like she was going to the Oscars. Hair freshly blow-dried and make up immaculate, she was wearing a long, low-cut red dress that draped seductively over her curves. Celine thought it was a bit OTT but she had to admit it went well with the Indian gold piled on at Jhumpa’s wrists and ears. She’d maybe punk it up a bit, if it was her: wear those earrings with a denim jacket instead. Think outside the box a bit, darling. Jhumpa was far too conservative.

Maybe it was the wine, or the fact that they had food in their bellies, but this time the girls were more relaxed with each other. As Stephenson cleared away the cheese plates and retired for the evening, Celine’s eyes fell on the drinks cabinet. The wine had been really nice at dinner but she fancied something stronger.

‘Can I have a look?’

Luci was curled up barefoot in the chair at the head of the table. ‘Help yourself. Be warned though, my dad has really random things in there.’

‘Like Peruvian brandy?’ Celine took the top off and sniffed. ‘Woah!’

Luci laughed at the expression on her face. ‘You want one?’

‘Why not? A few shots always get the party going.’

‘Not for me.’ Jhumpa said snootily. ‘I only drink good wine.’

‘Come on, live a little.’ Celine poured them all a measure out and bought it back to the table.

‘We need a toast.’ She pushed the glass towards Jhumpa. ‘C’mon. To finding our parents.’

Luci picked her glass up, ‘To our parents.’

They both looked at Jhumpa. ‘All right,’ she sighed. ‘If it makes you happy. But just the one.’

‘Famous last words,’ Celine said. She held her glass aloft and the others followed.

‘To finding our parents!’

They started to work their way through the spirits; Spanish liqueur, a French whiskey, German schnapps. By the time they were on this lemon-tasting thing from Turkey even Jhumpa had loosened up and was giggling at a funny story Luci had just told them. The thought of what lay ahead was ever near but all of three were determined to enjoy themselves. Like warriors on the eve of battle, Luci thought, looking round the table. Their last night of freedom.

Pretty soon the subject of guys came up. ‘Have you got a boyfriend?’ Celine asked her.

‘I did have. Adam. We met at Uni.’

‘What happened?’

‘He was nice.’ Luci grinned; ‘A bit too nice. How about you, Celine?’

‘Nothing serious.’ Her eyes flashed mischievously. ‘Although I did meet a guy on the plane over. Remy. He was a fashion buyer for Selfridges.’

‘Wow,’ Luci said. ‘Are you going to see him again?’

Celine shrugged. ‘He lives over here, so it would be pretty difficult. I got the feeling he was a bit of a player, anyway.’ She grinned again. ‘He was a seriously good kisser. Things got pretty full on.’

Luci laughed. ‘You could have joined the mile-high club.’

Celine gave a wink. ‘How do you know I haven’t already?’

‘Listen to you pair of old fishwives,’ Jhumpa said. ‘Gossiping about your wares for anyone to hear!’

The other two exchanged amused glances. ‘How about you, Jhumpa?’ Celine said. ‘Got any hot man-action going on at the moment?’

‘As if I’d tell you,’ came the tart reply.

Celine refilled their glasses. ‘Chill out, it’s not like we’re not going to tell anyone.’

‘It doesn’t mean we have to talk like whores.’

‘God, Jhumpa!’ Celine exclaimed. ‘It’s just girls talk.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Very prim and proper, aren’t you?’

‘Not at all.’ Jhumpa folded her napkin and put it on the table. ‘I just don’t feel the need to share every detail of my love life with everyone.’

‘Are you seeing someone then?’ Luci asked.

‘I might be.’

Celine rolled her eyes. ‘Cut the mystery, when did you last have sex?’

Jhumpa looked between the pair of them. ‘Last night, actually.’

They hadn’t expected that. ‘With who?!’ Luci said. ‘You only flew in yesterday.’

Jhumpa took a tiny sip of her shot. ‘Like I say, it’s my business.’

Celine started laughing. ‘You had a one-night stand. Jhumpa, you tramp!’

‘I am no such thing!’ she said indignantly. ‘I liked him; he liked me. We took precautions. I knew exactly what I was doing.’

‘Are you going to see him again?’ Luci asked.

Jhumpa did the hair toss thing again. ‘Maybe. He’s texted me but I haven’t replied yet.’

‘Playing hard to get, are we?’ Celine told her. Her speech was starting to slur. ‘Has anyone got any drugs?’

‘Celine!’ Jhumpa was shocked. ‘You don’t use them do you?’

‘I’m not talking about heroin! I mean something to smoke - just a joint. Luci?’

‘Sorry, no. The nearest thing to getting trashed is over there, in daddy’s drinks cupboard.’

‘Beggars can’t be choosers,’ Celine said getting up. She swayed across the room, bumping into Jhumpa’s chair on the way. ‘Right, bitches, what can I get you?’