Jilly Cooper - Bella

Now that Chrissie had lost so much weight, and her face had thinned down, she reminded Bella of him so poignantly. They had the same cheekbones, the same impassivity, the same smile that would light up a blacked-out city when suddenly they were amused.

On the second morning, the gunmen took Bella into the living-room and made her record a ridiculous tape to be sent to Lazlo and the family, begging them to raise the money as soon as possible, and not to contact the police. She had to read it over and over again, until they were satisfied with the stress and the timing.

‘And at the end, say “I love you”,’ said Ricardo.

‘I won’t,’ said Bella.

Ricardo held the gun to her temple, ‘I would if I were you.’

‘I love you very much,’ whispered Bella.

‘That should get El Gatto to pull his finger out,’ said Ricardo.

Chrissie, who’d just been brought in to make her tape, overheard Bella’s last remark.

‘What the hell’s going on?’ she hissed to Bella as soon as they were locked up together again. ‘You’ve been pulling a fast one all the time. Why did you say you loved Rupert just now. You are still after him.’

Bella found herself blushing. ‘I’m not. The gunmen have got completely the wrong end of the stick. For some reason they’re convinced Lazlo and I are mad about each other.’

Chrissie’s mouth opened and shut, and then she started to laugh incredulously. ‘You and Lazlo! God, they must be thick. If they only knew how much you loathe each other.’

Bella didn’t wince. She was making great strides in self-control, but she found it very difficult not to react during the next day when Chrissie kept saying, ‘You and Lazlo,’ and going off into fits of laughter.

Chrissie, now she had Bella to protect her, slept a great deal. She had so many shocks in the last week to recover from. This left Bella plenty of time to observe her captors.

The smooth man in the light blue suit had left. He was probably, Bella decided, some henchman, fairly high up in the Rodriquez empire. Five others remained: Ricardo, the thug with the bulging muscles and the soft oily voice, Diego, the tall blond one with the gentle hands and voice, Carlos, stocky and dark with a beard, the very thin young boy, Pablo, with the missing finger, who never said anything, and, finally, Eduardo, the tall dark one with the air of authority, who seemed to be in charge of the operation. All of them, except Pablo, wore wedding rings.

There were always two of them on guard, one at the bottom of the stairs by the front door, one outside Bella and Chrissie’s door. At night, a guard stayed in their room with a gun ready across his knee.

Ricardo was the most unpleasant. For long periods he’d be quiet, then suddenly get explosive and violently argumentative. Nor did she like the way he stared hungrily at Chrissie.

Diego, on the other hand, was very kind to them. One day, when she was crying, he got out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. And often, when she got aches and pains from sleeping on the floor, he would rub her back for her. What really frightened her was the pity she frequently detected in his voice. He knows we’re going to be killed, she thought in terror.

Physically she felt she was falling to pieces. Her red and white dress was filthy. So was she. She imagined her skin getting covered in blackheads, her eyebrows growing like bushes from not being plucked, her teeth rotting because she couldn’t clean them. The stench in the room was terrible. She dreamed obsessively of Lazlo’s ivy green bathroom and soaking in hot scented water.

On the fourth night the gunmen started quarrelling amongst themselves. They had been drinking and she could hear them shouting in the room next door. She wished she could understand what they were saying. Chrissie could understand Spanish, but she was asleep.

At midnight Ricardo took over the watch from Diego. He reeked of brandy fumes and stumbled over a loose floorboard. Bella pretended to be asleep.

The shouting died down in the next room and, soon, all was deathly quiet. Bella opened half an eye. In the half light, the gun gleamed across Ricardo’s knee. Chrissie turned over and moaned in her sleep, her black hair flopped over her face, the top button of her black dress was undone, showing the marble whiteness of her breasts.

Ricardo’s breathing became heavier, as suddenly he got up, stepped over Bella, and went towards the bed. Through half-shut eyes she saw him gazing down at Chrissie’s full, voluptuous body, then, very slowly, he put his hand out and began to stroke her face. Chrissie moved again in her sleep, edging towards him, like a dog cuddling up to its owner. Ricardo went on stroking her cheek, then his hand moved slowly down her neck and began to undo the buttons of her dress.

Bella was frozen with horror, unable to move. Suddenly Chrissie woke up and gave a little gasp of terror at the sight of the masked face. Next moment, Ricardo’s hand clamped over her mouth and then he was on top of her, clawing at her dress.

Bella reacted instantly.

‘Leave her alone,’ she yelled, picking up the broken chair, and the next moment she cracked it over Ricardo’s head. He gave a groan and collapsed on to the floor as Chrissie started screaming.

Bella was about to hit him again when the door burst open and in came Eduardo, Carlos and Pablo, all carrying guns.

‘Put that chair down,’ snarled Eduardo.

‘He was trying to rape me,’ sobbed Chrissie.

Bella, looking at the three gun barrels, dropped the chair. Pablo helped Ricardo to his feet.

‘The bitch went for me,’ said Ricardo, blood dripping from his head, and the next moment he’d turned on Bella, slapping her viciously across the face, back and forth, back and forth.

‘That’s enough,’ said Eduardo. ‘We’ll teach her a lesson another way.’ He gave instructions in Spanish over his shoulder to Pablo, who went out and came back with some rope with which he tied up both Bella and Chrissie.

They sat Bella down on a chair. She could feel the blood trickling down her cheeks where Ricardo’s ring had cut her.

Then Carlos came in with a towel and put it round Bella’s shoulders. Suddenly Bella remembered, terrified, how they’d cut off Paul Getty’s ear.

‘Oh please no!’ she whispered.

‘Shut up,’ said Eduardo, lifting up her hair.

They were all standing behind her.

‘No!’ screamed Chrissie, ‘please don’t hurt her.’ For she could see what Bella could not, that in Eduardo’s hand was a razor blade glinting evilly in the dim light.

Bella jerked her head forward.

‘Keep still,’ swore Eduardo. ‘Or you really will get hurt.’

She felt her hair being tugged backward, and sawed at, this way and that.

‘Oh, no!’ she wailed. ‘Not my hair.’

Eduardo ran the razor blade gently down her cheek.

‘Quiet,’ he said softly. ‘Or we really will give you something to remember us by.’

They cut her long mane off to a ragged three inches all over her head, short as a boy’s, shorter than most boys’, tugging and sawing till it lay in a heavy mass all over the floor.

Eduardo then told Pablo to gather it up.

‘We’ll parcel it up and send it to El Gatto. It might make him get off his arse about raising the dough,’ said Eduardo.

After that, they took her next door and stood her up, with her hands and feet still tied and her head in a noose of rope hanging from the ceiling.

‘Don’t fall asleep or the rope will snap your head off,’ said Ricardo, and he went out, locking the door.

Bella couldn’t stop crying. Her only irrational thought was that now she’d finally lost Lazlo. She remembered him saying he only liked girls with long hair, not that she’d ever had him. But now, with short hair, there was no possibility that he could love her.