Sara Craven - Storm Force

It would do Philip no harm to stiffen his sinews and summon up the blood when dealing with some of the formidable ladies on their fiction list, she thought, defensively.

In any case, there was no way she was going to do anything to put her holiday in Mauritius in jeopardy. It had taken weeks of patient and subtle manoeuvring to get Robin to the stage of accepting the idea of a joint vacation anywhere.

She adored him, of course, but sometimes the old-fashioned principles rigorously instilled by his elderly mother were a little hard to take. And Robin loved her, she knew. There was a tacit agreement that—one day—they would be married. Perhaps the romantic surroundings of Mauritius would provide the spur he needed to make their engagement official, she thought wistfully. Especially if Mama wasn’t around to ask why he needed to get married, when he was so comfortable at home with her …

Oh, don’t be such a bitch, she adjured herself impatiently. Mrs Hervey can’t be expected to look forward eagerly to losing her only son to another woman. She’s come to depend on him, perhaps too much.

But I wish I could believe that, underneath, she likes me really, she added, with a little sigh.

She paid off the driver outside the block of flats where she lived, and dived up to the first floor.

Mrs Hervey would have every reason for disapproval if she could see the state of the flat, Maggie had to acknowledge as she dashed into the bedroom. It looked as if a bomb had hit it. She must have packed and unpacked her case at least half a dozen times. She had planned and looked forward to this holiday for such a long time, and bought loads of new clothes. So many, in fact, that they were almost like a trousseau, she thought, crossing her fingers surreptitiously. The problem was choosing the exact outfits to stir Robin to his very soul.

Well, it’s decision time now, she told herself. You’ll have to be at the airport in a few hours.

She was just rolling one of her new bikinis into a neat tube and stowing it into a corner of her case when the front door buzzer sounded.

She straightened, frowning. She wasn’t expecting any callers. Surely Philip hadn’t followed her home to make a last-ditch attempt to persuade her to change her mind?

‘I’ll kill him if so,’ she muttered between clenched teeth.

‘Yes?’ she said curtly into the intercom.

‘Vice Squad. Open up,’ said her brother-in-law’s familiar drawl.

‘Sebastian?’ she squealed, and opened the door. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Hello, Ginger.’ Sebastian Kirby bent and pecked her on the cheek. ‘I phoned your office from the hotel, but they said you’d left for the day. Not ill, are you?’

‘On the contrary, I’m going on holiday.’

‘Really?’ Sebastian’s brows rose, and he looked frankly taken aback. ‘Won’t the hovel be a little bleak in October?’

‘The cottage,’ Maggie said with emphasis, ‘is perfectly fine at any time of year. But, as it happens, I’m not going there for once. I’m heading for the sun. Mauritius, to be exact.’

‘Going alone?’ Sebastian followed her into the bedroom, and picked up another bikini, surveying it with a grin. ‘Very—er, basic.’

‘No.’ Maggie’s tone held a hint of challenge, as she snatched the tiny garment from him. ‘I’m going with Robin.’

‘Good lord!’ Sebastian said blankly. ‘You mean Mummy’s actually let him off the leash at last?’ He encountered Maggie’s baleful look, and flung up his hands. ‘OK. I’m sorry and it’s none of my business. But neither Louie nor I can understand what you see in that stuffed shirt. However, if he makes you happy …’

‘He does,’ Maggie said levelly.

‘Then have a wonderful holiday.’ Sebastian sent her a placatory smile. ‘Why don’t I make us both some coffee?’

‘Where is Louie? Why isn’t she with you?’ Maggie asked as he returned with a tray a few minutes later. ‘She’s all right, isn’t she?’ she added with sudden alarm. ‘And the baby?’

‘They’re both blooming,’ Sebastian reassured her. ‘But we both felt it was better for her to stay in New York this time.’ He grimaced slightly. ‘I’m here on business, Mags, trouble-shooting for a major client. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen the headlines.’

‘Headlines?’ Maggie gave him a puzzled look as she took her beaker of coffee, then her brows snapped together in a thunderous frown. ‘Oh, don’t tell me you’re here to rescue that bastard Jay Delaney.’

Sebastian perched on a corner of the dressing-table. ‘That’s a fairly harsh judgement.’

‘Harsh?’ Maggie echoed in disbelief. ‘Oh, for pity’s sake, Seb. He got drunk and raped a girl. You can’t possibly be on his side.’

‘I can and I am,’ Sebastian told her levelly. ‘He may have been accused of rape, admittedly, but that doesn’t mean he’s guilty. No charges have been brought yet.’

‘Of course he’s guilty,’ Maggie said impatiently. ‘It’s perfectly obvious what happened. He’s the big macho television star who’s totally irresistible to women, and for once a girl tried to say no to him. And naturally his over-sized masculine ego couldn’t take rejection. I hope he gets all that’s coming to him.’

Sebastian stared at her. ‘What’s happened to the idea of someone being innocent until proved otherwise? Where’s your womanly compassion?’

‘I’m keeping that for his unfortunate victim.’ Maggie wrestled to close the lid of her case. ‘And if you’re here to try to do a public relations whitewash job …’

‘There’ll be no whitewash,’ Sebastian said quietly. ‘Jay has agreed to “help the police with their enquiries”, to use the classic phrase. I’m here to see that he’s protected from the more virulent attacks of the gutter Press, that’s all.’

‘What a job,’ Maggie said bitterly. ‘Minder to an over-sexed yob, with a three-day growth and sprayed-on jeans.’

‘For heaven’s sake, Mags.’ Sebastian looked shaken. ‘I’ve never known you so bigoted—so vitriolic. You’ve never even met the guy. Have you ever watched his series?’

‘Not if I can help it,’ she said curtly. ‘I don’t belong to the school of thought which says that the world’s problems can all be solved by an undercover agent with a gun in one hand and a woman in the other.’ She gave a small angry laugh. ‘He’s probably started to believe his own publicity, and is convinced he’s above the law in some godlike way. Or does he think because the fantasy girls in the series surrender to him that real women must as well?’

‘We haven’t exactly discussed that aspect of the situation,’ said Sebastian. His expression was edgy, worried. ‘Mags, I’m sure you’re doing him an injustice. The girl who’s accused him is a nightclub hostess—not exactly a defenceless schoolgirl.’

‘Oh, I see.’ Maggie jerkily fastened the straps of her case. ‘And does her occupation give her no rights over her own body, or is anyone rich and famous allowed to use her as the whim takes them?’

‘No, of course not.’ Sebastian gave her a baffled glance. ‘But doesn’t it strike you as just a bit odd that she went to a newspaper to make her complaint, and not the police?’

‘It’s a man’s world,’ said Maggie bitterly. ‘She probably knew when it was her word against Jay Delaney’s that she wouldn’t be believed.’

Sebastian sighed heavily. ‘Ginger, I can’t reason with you when you’re like this. If you were to meet Jay—hear his side of things, you might …’

‘He’s the last person in the world I’d ever want to meet. I find men like Jay Delaney quite repulsive. And I’m glad that he’s come across at least one girl who doesn’t think he’s God’s gift, and is prepared to say so in public. I hope she says it in court.’