Sleeping Cruelty

Chapter eight

A few days later Justin called William again.

William was surprised to feel genuinely pleased to hear from him, but with the Sharee story, he was desperate to get out of London. He couldn’t face going to work. ‘I’ll get the next flight out,’ he said.

‘What?’ Justin asked loudly.

‘I said I’ll be flying out as soon as I can.’

‘Oh, fantastic. By the way, I’ve ordered four jet-skis, and I told you about the speedboat, didn’t I? Expensive, but out here it’ll be an eye-popper. Hopefully it’s arriving today. Let me know what time your flight gets in, and I’ll have a boat fixed up to collect you, if yours hasn’t been delivered. Hello? Are you still there?’

‘I’ll have Michael call you, Justin.’ William hung up and pressed the intercom. ‘Michael, arrange a flight for me, would you? I want to leave as soon as possible.’

‘Where to, sir?’ came Michael’s clipped tones.

‘The island. So get Mrs Thingy to pack enough suitable clothes for a fortnight.’

‘You have board meetings the day after tomorrow.’

‘Cancel them.’

Michael accompanied William to the airport, ostensibly to take notes and instructions, but his boss seemed distracted.

‘The new mechanical toys are ready for you to test, sir. Do you want me to send them out to you on the island?’

‘What toys?’ William asked.

‘The fox and hens, remember?’

‘Oh yes, yes, just go ahead.’

‘What about the patent?’ Michael asked, aware that they had been copied from some William had bought in Paris.

‘Well, I reckon we can get away with it. I’m sure I remember seeing some designs for a similar toy done by one of my boffins years ago. If they do decide to take on the Benedict Corporation, which I’m sure they won’t, we’ll be able to pass it off as ours anyway. In fact, Michael, get my lawyers to look into the company that made that cat-and-mouse thing and root out our old files. Maybe we can sue them!’ With that, they arrived at the airport.

The speedboat’s engine was cut and it cruised into the small, immaculate dock. It was late afternoon and still blisteringly hot, but a sea breeze kept the air fresh. Justin, deeply tanned, was wearing cut-off blue jeans, a white T-shirt with torn seams and a faded pair of flip-flops. His gold Rolex wristwatch glistened in the sun, and a pair of black Armani shades hung from the neck of his T-shirt. A boy in white shorts and dirty sneakers was at the controls. He jumped deftly out of the boat on to the quay, and Justin hurled him a coiled rope, which he tied around a wooden post.

William was sitting in the small harbour café with a whisky and soda. He had landed in Miami, then booked the Cherokee two-seater to taxi him to Tortola, the adjacent island; his own had no airstrip. Another seaplane landed at the same time, and William was irritated to see Count Frederick Capri, whom he recognized from Justin’s villa in France, greet the disembarking passengers.

His mood darkened as he watched the lithe, handsome Justin strolling towards him. He seemed to know everyone who passed, waving and laughing, speaking fluent French one moment, Spanish the next. William sipped his drink and squinted into the sun as Justin made his way towards the café veranda and leaned against the railing. ‘You made it,’ he said, smiling, his white teeth dazzling against his dark skin.

His hair had grown quite long since William last saw him and he wore it combed back from his high forehead. It was bleached almost white.

‘The boy’ll get your cases,’ Justin added, slipping on his shades and checking his watch. ‘We shouldn’t leave it too long, there’s a bit of wind and it might get choppy. Besides, I want you to see the island in the best possible light — when the sun is just slipping down.’

They walked to the quay, got into the boat and surged off. William pressed his back into the leather seat. Justin sat next to him, tilting his face to catch the last rays of sun. ‘So the Countess buggered off,’ he said.

William shrugged. He could smell Justin’s sun-oil, and glanced at the small diamond ring he wore on his little finger.

Justin hooked his arm around William’s shoulder. ‘This is nerve-racking for me. It’s been almost eighteen months, did you know that?’

‘Time passes quickly,’ William said, uneasy with the man’s closeness.

‘I have created a paradise,’ Justin said, tightening his arm. ‘Sometimes it was hard for me to remember that I was creating a place for you, not me. I’ve grown to love this island with a passion.’

William would never forget the next few moments. The boat cut through the water, passing between two jagged rocks. A mist began to sweep towards them, blurring the ocean and the sky, creating an illusion of nothingness. Then the island appeared, like a mirage. White turrets, boundary walls, white cliffs and sparkling latticed windows. As they drew closer, the mist parted, and William made out undergrowth, trees and shrubs in a blaze of different colours.

The quayside, jetty and pathways leading to the mansion were as white as the turrets. Large Chinese lanterns hung from ropes, swinging gently in the wind, and the tinkle of wind-chimes and bells echoed across the water. William half rose, his lips parted, as they cruised past man-made beaches and cascading waterfalls. The perfume from the lilies was so strong that the heady smell wafted over the water like incense. The boat passed hidden coves equipped with small jetties and lines of jet-skis, sailing dinghies and windsurfers. Sunbathing terraces, covered with brilliant white canopies, rows of polished sun-beds and picnic tables, jutted out from the rocks; diving boards reached out into the sea. As the boat curved inwards to the main landing, jetty-boys in white blazers and shorts stood like sentries waiting for their arrival. The boat-boy eased into the jetty alongside a sleek cruiser covered in white tarpaulins and a small, elegant launch. Five white golf carts were parked nearby.

Justin climbed up on to the jetty, speaking in French to the boys, who then assisted William from the boat, collected his luggage and stacked it on a golf cart. William stood still, taking it all in. ‘Stunning,’ he said, in awe.

Justin was delighted at the impact of his creation. But this was just the beginning and he was determined to milk every second. ‘I’ll show you the grounds first.’ He veered off the pathway into a shaded, narrow, rough lane where the ferns and the palms made it darker and more mysterious. They turned a corner on to a clearing with an Olympic-sized marble swimming-pool. The water, lit from beneath, was a vivid turquoise. Sun-loungers were covered in the same brilliant colour; parasols and tables were placed on different levels. A straw-covered gazebo accommodated a bar, where a man stood waiting to serve drinks. Crystal glasses glittered, and mountains of fruit in ceramic pots were dotted on the tables around the pool. Justin escorted William to a jacuzzi built on a higher level, and a large swirl pool with an elaborate mosaic floor.

The tour continued round the entire island, taking in secret pathways, or ‘lovers’ walks’, as Justin described them, until at last they headed around the rear of the mansion, past the servants’ quarters to a shady cobble-walled yard. ‘The servants live in the area away from the master rooms, but they’re connected by phone and intercom,’ Justin said, pointing out the hidden wires. Following his gaze, William looked upwards. ‘The cameras are for the security monitor in your master office. You can see what’s going on over the whole island with one flick of a switch.’

They returned to the cart and headed back towards the main mansion entrance. Justin had restructured the building, turning a warren of small rooms and corridors into vast open spaces. The doors leading into the main hall were thirty feet high and had come from an Indonesian monastery. They were carved with spectacular fretwork, and in the centre of each was a wooden lion’s head, its jaws wide open, holding a gleaming brass knocker. Justin had a flair for mixing the old with the new and the combination was perfect. The hallway was tiled in black and white marble. Above, a huge domed ceiling was vaulted with thick wooden beams, a minstrel’s gallery snaking its way around the hall. Overhead, fans whirred quietly, and carefully positioned lights cast beams on paintings the size of living-room walls. Tapestries, oil paintings and a full suit of armour gave the feeling of a medieval castle, yet the room was light and airy. The wide double staircase was made of polished Japanese pine and had a frail appearance that belied its strength and weight. The windows opened on to balconies and verandas. All the rooms seemed to be interconnected: one wall slid back to reveal a modern, open-plan drawing room with white cushioned sofas, low tables, paintings, china displays on plinths of polished wood, Japanese bowls, rough local pottery, and, dominating each room, a wide open fireplace. ‘I’ve installed the finest air-conditioning system. The engineers were here for months.’ Justin pointed around the room, to the floor and ceiling, but William could see no grids or outlets — they were all hidden from sight.

Besides a row of six small bungalow-type residences for staff and guests, there were eight suites, each with its own bathroom. There was also a drawing room and a dining room with a long monastery table and big carved chairs, plus a smaller table for more intimate dining. The breakfast room had no walls, and was designed so that guests could drink their morning coffee with spectacular views on every side. However, when it was windy or wet, the touch of a button would electronically activate glass panels to shield them.

Nothing in his wildest dreams had prepared William for this extravagance. Justin insisted on tours to the servants’ living-quarters, going into long descriptions about the kitchens and wine cellar, which he wanted William to see. Then he led William into a gargantuan study. It was a modern room, with a futuristic-looking desk, a hi-tech computer and printer, a huge television and a bank of security monitors. Although William was now aching with tiredness, Justin gestured for him to sit. He crossed to the desk, spread out the architect’s drawings of the mansion, and with a red pen indicated the areas they missed on the tour and the positions of the hidden cameras. He began to fiddle with an array of switches in the large panel at the side of the desk. The monitors fizzled into life, revealing every possible area of the island.

‘You can keep an eye on everything, William,’ Justin said, unable to hide his pride in his work.

‘Very impressive,’ William said, so exhausted he could hardly keep his eyes open.

‘We need to discuss the finances,’ Justin said, rolling up the drawings.

‘Not now. I need some sleep. Perhaps in the morning.’

Justin checked his watch. ‘Will you want to dine? Only you should really meet all your staff.’

William removed his jacket. His shirt was stained with sweat. ‘A light supper in my suite. Offer them my apologies. I’ll meet them tomorrow.’ He looked around, unsure where to go.

‘I’ll send the chef to your room,’ Justin said, opening a door in the corner of the study. ‘Tomorrow we’ll discuss the grand plan.’

William took a deep breath. ‘No, we won’t, I’m here for a holiday, nothing more. All that revenge stuff was nonsense, as stupid as my arrangement with Sylvina.’

Justin’s heart sank, but he kept a smile on his face. ‘You get a good night’s sleep. Maybe you’ll think differently in the morning.’

William glared. ‘No, I won’t. As I said, I’m here for a break, and God knows I certainly need one. All that silly stuff is best forgotten. I don’t even want to discuss it again. Goodnight.’

As William made to leave, Justin gave a small bow. ‘Welcome home,’ he said softly.

‘Thank you. You’ve done one hell of a job.’

Justin directed him to his suite, then closed the door and leaned against it. ‘You’ve done one hell of a job,’ he repeated sarcastically. ‘Fucking prick,’ he muttered, under his breath. The dumb bastard didn’t want to play! Well, so be it, he would play. He hadn’t spent eighteen months setting it up and half of his life waiting for this opportunity just to let it slip away. It might take a little longer, but he was sure he could persuade the buffoon to do exactly as he wanted. No one was going to stop him now.

William showered and changed into a pair of cotton pyjamas that had been laid out on his bed. His suite seemed bigger than the first floor of his London house. He padded to the balcony, opened the doors and walked out. Like a golden globe sinking into the sea, the sun’s last rays reached out like tentacles into the darkening sky before it disappeared. William gasped. It was the most extraordinary sight he’d ever seen. Soft lights came on automatically, and he rested his hands on the veranda rail. He breathed deeply. The air was cool and sweetly perfumed, the night caressing, almost like a naked woman reaching out to hold him. As emotion welled up inside him he felt close to tears and gasped to regain his composure. He felt as though he were caught in a dream. But it was reality. This was his paradise. It belonged to him and no one else.

There was a light tap on the door and William let in a small Frenchman who introduced himself as Monsieur Dupré, the chef. He handed William the menu, a thick sheet of manila paper with looped writing. William barely glanced at it. ‘I’d like some melon, a little scrambled egg and maybe some salmon.’

‘Of course, Monsieur, and...’ He passed William the wine list. One glance told him it was on a par with that of the Ritz. He asked for a bottle of chilled Pouilly Fumé and some iced lemon tea. Dupré bowed and backed out, closing the door silently behind him.

The tray arrived on a steel trolley with silver domes placed over delicate pale blue porcelain. The cutlery, of silver and eighteen-carat gold inlaid with ivory, was laid out on the damask cloth. The fluted goblet was chilled and frosted, and the wine stood in an ornate silver bucket.

‘I’ll serve myself,’ William said briskly, anxious to be left alone to savour yet another of Justin’s touches of elegance. The eggs were cooked to perfection, the salmon melted in his mouth like butter. The warm crusty rolls were fresh, just as he liked. The melon, cut into fine slivers, was garnished with segments of lemon, strawberries, pineapple and apricots. William ate sparingly, and after a glass of wine, his eyes drooped. He didn’t finish his meal but went into the bedroom, fell on to the damask-covered bed and into a deep, dreamless sleep.

At some point during the night, the tray was removed and the hand-made mosquito nets released above the bed. William turned and his eyes opened and, for a moment, he was unsure where he was. The netting above him felt like hands touching his face and he cringed. He must make it clear to all the servants that his rooms were not to be entered unless at his express permission. Returning to a half-sleep, he saw winding dark corridors, secret rooms — eerie, frightening places. He felt so cold he woke up. Pushing the netting aside William reached for the bedside lamp, patting its base to find the switch. The lamp filled the room with a soft yellow glow. Looking around, he suddenly noticed a painting.

For a moment it looked like a mirage, suspended in the air, but then he realized that it had been framed to stand away from the wall and was intended to appear to float. It was of a woman, her blonde hair cascading from a central parting almost to her waist. A pale blue chiffon scarf covered her shoulders, revealing her perfect breasts. One hand, with long fine fingers and short oval nails, held a white lily. The other rested against the side of her pale neck, as if she was touching her pulse. The painting was in washed, muted colours. Only the face had clarity, as if the artist wanted it to be the focus. It was a childlike, innocent face. Pale blue eyes stared out above a small, delicate nose and the full lips were slightly parted. William turned off the light, but kept staring towards the painting, unsure whether he wished it to remain in the room. Eventually he fell asleep, her face the last thing he saw that night and the first when he woke next morning.

Standing on the veranda, William saw Justin in a white robe heading back towards the house.

‘Morning,’ Justin called up.

‘Morning,’ he replied.

‘I’ve been for a swim,’ Justin said, shading his eyes. ‘Have you had breakfast?’

‘Not yet, will you join me for coffee?’

‘Absolutely,’ said Justin, disappearing.

‘Justin!’ William called after him. ‘The woman,’ he said, as Justin reappeared. ‘The painting of the woman in my bedroom.’

‘Ah, yes,’ Justin called up. ‘Beautiful, isn’t she?’

‘Who is she?’

‘My sister,’ Justin said. Almost as an afterthought he added, ‘Her name is Laura.’

At breakfast, William was wearing a pair of Bermuda shorts and a loose floral shirt. On his feet were Gucci sandals, leather uppers with rope soles, but his legs above his socks were unhealthy pinkish blobs. His pale freckled skin never tanned, but turned red and blistered if he sat in the sun too long. His fine blond hair, thinning at the back in a neat round crown, was perhaps the only thing the tropical sun enhanced, turning it from mousy blond to white-silver. Justin, in comparison, was so deeply tanned from months of working outdoors that it was hard to tell what race he was. He was wearing a cheesecloth kaftan and the flip-flops he had worn the previous day. He hitched up the kaftan around his thighs as he stretched out his long legs beside the table.

A large trolley loaded with fresh fruit cascading from iced bowls had been wheeled to within easy reach of the table, with fresh rolls, pastries and home-made breads under a covered silver warming-dish. Various jams and sweet and sour marmalades in silver basketweave jars, matching silver coffee- and tea-pots with hot-water jugs in the same but larger-woven pattern sparkled in the morning sun. The table wore a starched pale blue linen cloth, with matching napkins and heavy cutlery. Added to the array of knives and forks were diamond-shaped grapefruit spoons. Iced flutes held freshly squeezed orange juice. Jugs offered lemon water, or grapefruit juice with sprigs of mint. A small, heated tray held covered tureens with bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, liver, kidneys and onions.

‘No cornflakes?’ William said, looking over the trolley.

‘I’ll send down for some,’ Justin said.

‘No, don’t bother. It was a joke.’ William poured more coffee and proffered the pot to Justin, who shook his head, holding up a glass of iced water.

‘Not until midday. Gets me too speedy.’ He sat munching at an alarming rate.

‘Is she dead?’ William asked, out of the blue.

‘Who?’ Justin enquired.

‘The woman in the painting.’ William dabbed the corners of his mouth with his napkin.

‘Laura? No, she’s very much alive.’

‘You’ve never mentioned her.’

‘I’m sure I have.’ Justin took out his cigarettes, noting the way the debris from William’s breakfast now dominated the table. He had read somewhere that the space a person took up on a table was representative of their perceived status in relation to their fellow diners. William clearly felt he was the dominant personality here.

‘Laura?’ William said, his head cocked to one side. ‘The name suits her. She’s very beautiful.’

Justin nodded, picked up a book of matches and lit his Gitane. He drew the ashtray close and laid the match in the bowl then slid it, with a half-amused smile, directly in front of William. He had now reclaimed his space. ‘We should go over the accounts,’ he said quietly.

‘Fine. Whenever.’

Justin stood up and stretched his long arms above his head. ‘Half an hour? Your study would probably be best. Then I can lay out all the plans.’

‘What does she do?’ William asked, looking up at Justin.

‘My sister?’ Justin drew deeply on the cigarette, then let the smoke drift from his nose. ‘She fucks.’ With that he strolled away, the smell of his cigarette hanging in the air.

Justin was waiting in William’s study. He had changed into a pair of white shorts, frayed at the edges and a washed-out blue vest. William pointed to a stack of receipts and invoices. ‘Has Michael been privy to all of this?’

‘Most,’ Justin said, concentrating on the account books.

‘He’ll need copies of everything,’ William said, wandering around the room, noting the contents of the bookshelves and cabinets.

‘Absolutely.’

William stared out of the window. ‘Christ, it’s a wonderful view from here,’ he said.

‘From every room,’ Justin corrected, concentrating on his papers. ‘Shall we get started?’ He stepped away from the desk, gesturing to the carved chair behind it. William sat as he placed an open, leatherbound account book in front of him. He pointed to the control panel on the desk. ‘You have a hi-tech calculator there if you need it. It’ll give you the costs in any currency, plus exchange rates. This is the master copy.’

William nodded and flicked briskly through the pages of neatly handwritten accounts until he got to the last page and glanced down. Justin was becoming irritated. He knew that William was looking for the final total. ‘If you have to look for it, you can’t afford it,’ he said. ‘The truth is, it’s peanuts compared to what some interior designers would have charged.’

‘Jesus Christ!’ William uttered under his breath. The total was one hundred and twenty-six million dollars. ‘Peanuts?’ He looked up as Justin averted his eyes.

‘I’ll start at the beginning. Go to page one, structural repairs,’ he snapped.

‘Yes,’ William said flatly, adding a curt, ‘I think you had better do just that!’

At last there was some energized response from William, even if it was not necessarily a good one. His depression hung around him, pervaded the island and infuriated Justin. He simply could not understand his lack of energy and enthusiasm. He was like a dead man set in cement. Only the money angle seemed to have given him a spark of life.

Later, a business lunch of crisp salad and chicken breast wrapped in spinach leaves on a bed of saffron rice was brought in to them. William did not want a break, and Justin, under a barrage of questions, didn’t eat a morsel. William demanded to know the cost of every item. By mid-afternoon Justin had to get out. He needed to clear his head. He’d not even left the room for a piss. Neither had William.

No wonder the man was rich, he thought. Nothing went unnoticed — he even enquired about bars of soap.

‘Look, Sir William, we must discuss more than nit-picking costs. There is more at stake here.’ William peered at him quizzically. ‘I suggest we both take a break. I’ll arrange for a drink to be brought up to you at the jacuzzi.’

Reluctantly William acquiesced. He didn’t like jacuzzis and he could have easily continued all day and into the night.

‘I’ll take some of these folders,’ he muttered.

‘Fine. Just don’t get them wet.’ Justin was trying hard to control his temper.

Justin walked to the edge of the pool, kicked off his shorts and dived naked into the cool blue water. William was sitting in the jacuzzi on the higher level, wearing Justin’s baseball cap with a cigar clamped in his teeth. He was checking through the lists of paintings and tapestries that had been shipped in from Sotheby’s and Christie’s showrooms in New York and London. The hot water was pumping and shaking over his rather flaccid thighs and buttocks. He had put on at least two and a half stone since Maynard’s death, partly due to Sylvina’s constant round of dinners. His pot belly hung over his maroon bathing shorts. He watched Justin swim length after length.

After about half an hour William showered and changed, gathered up the folders and returned to the study. He was surprised to see Justin already at work, bent over the computer, with a glass of chilled wine.

‘You mind?’ Justin asked, holding up the bottle, which was already three-quarters empty.

‘Not at all.’ William gestured to the chair beside him. ‘I need you to run these by me. Mexican artefacts? Were they necessary?’

‘No, not at all, but rather nice, don’t you think?’ Justin slumped down into the chair.

‘At this price they should be.’

And so it continued.

At last, by nine that evening, William was satisfied that he had covered the entire expenditure on his island paradise. He closed the last book and reached for a cigar from the specially designed humidor, embossed with his initials in gold. ‘You took some liberties,’ he said quietly.

Justin leaned forward. ‘I’m sorry?’

William pushed back his chair. He puffed at his cigar then spat out a fragment of tobacco. ‘I said, you took liberties. Some of the costs are ridiculously high.’

‘You’ll find it worth it.’ Justin handed William a pen and blank piece of paper. ‘Now, can we discuss the original reason for my rebuilding this place?’

William wrinkled his brow. ‘We did. I thought I’d cleared that up on my arrival.’

Justin smiled. ‘Fine. You’re the one who’s been made to look the arsehole, so it’s your decision. I mean, I’ve seen you publicly humiliated. If I were you I’d want revenge. But I’m not you, obviously, and it’s always been your decision about everything.’

‘Revenge?’ William shifted uneasily, recalling that late-night conversation all those months ago in the South of France. ‘It’s been too long now.’

‘William, everyone has called you a wanker. The press, your family, everyone. Doesn’t that bother you? Even with all your money, you’ll never be free of that. The only thing you can do is pay the bastards back, but you’re too much of a pussy to do it. I’ve set it all up for you, worked my butt off.’

‘You’ll be paid.’

Justin lifted his hands in exasperation. ‘Fine, pay me off like Sylvina and I’ll walk out of your life. I don’t care any more, I just don’t want to waste any more of my time on you.’

William sat down, head in his hands, and fell into the trap. ‘This grand plan you’ve conceived...’

‘I didn’t, you did. It was your idea.’

‘Refresh my memory.’

Justin’s eyes narrowed as he wondered how much to elaborate. He must choose his words carefully.

‘Okay, the original plan was for you to become socially accepted again, which partly worked via Sylvina. You listed the specific names of people who had, to your mind, done the dirty on you. People like—’

‘Baron von Garten,’ William muttered.

‘Exactly. Then everyone on the hit-list would subsequently be invited to join you here on your island, where they would be at your mercy.’

Justin looked for a reaction, but there was none.

‘Once here, they would be lulled into a false sense of security, entertained on such a lavish scale that they would relax... unaware that you had another motive. Payback. You would systematically get every single one of them.’

‘Caught in a sexual scandal,’ William added quietly.

‘Exactly,’ Justin said softly, then got up and touched William’s shoulder. ‘That was what we hatched up. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.’

‘Of course I hadn’t,’ William said hoarsely. ‘I hadn’t forgotten, Justin, but so much has happened, and the Sylvina débâcle turned round to my benefit. Sometimes the press that I despise so much—’

‘Makes you look even more of a buffoon,’ snapped Justin.

There was that word again. William clenched his hands in anger.

‘Go to bed. You think about it tonight. Then if you decide to go with it, we can start things rolling. If not, then I’ll be finished here and I’ll leave, with no hard feelings.’

Justin strolled out. He might have been discussing something as mundane as cushion fabric, not a complex revenge plot.

William felt as if he had been holding his breath too long, and let it out. ‘Oh, my God,’ he whispered. He wondered whether Justin was unbalanced. But it was himself who had sown the seeds of the plan. That night in France he had wanted to make someone pay for what had been done to him. His injuries had still smarted then. But did he still want that? William patted his pockets and removed his wallet. Neatly folded into a small square was the original list he had made out of people whom he believed should pay for what he had been put through. But now that he had just such an opportunity, he found it didn’t make him feel good. Instead it disturbed him. He needed to think hard before he made any decisions.

The sound of speedboat engines drew William to the balcony of his room. The night-lights and lanterns illuminated the path all the way to the water’s edge creating a carnival feeling. He could see a group of people on the jetty watching the Sunseeker Hawk 34 being tested. Justin was shouting instructions to Sammy at the wheel, and the engine came to life with a sound almost as loud as Concorde. The boat lifted out of the water leaving a foaming wash behind as it disappeared out of sight.

After a moment, the Sunseeker returned with Justin at the wheel. He circled the boat, putting it through various fast turns and surges, laughing and waving to the boys on the jetty. Then he cut the engines, drifted back to the shore and tied it up. He jumped out, then walked away from the jetty, each arm hooked around a boy’s shoulder. As they disappeared into the darkness, their disembodied voices and laughter hung in the air.

William wondered where Justin slept. Perhaps he was living in the servants’ quarters or in one of the thatched bungalows. He decided to take an evening stroll. Walking through the hallway, he paused and looked up to the ribbed ceiling, then at the paintings and tapestries. The elegant flowers, plants and ferns that hung and draped the stairs and balconies were so thick and voluptuous they might have been growing there for years. He had to admire Justin’s artistry, the way he had made the hallway a powerful, but not daunting, centrepiece of the mansion.

‘I like this,’ he said. He thought again of the Grand Plan as he surveyed the hall. It might just work. He had laid the groundwork during his year with Sylvina and the press had unwittingly made him a social star. He was sure the people on his list would accept his invitation to stay. It was just a matter of deciding when.

William stepped through the massive oak and iron doors, which appeared to be left open at all times, and walked down the white stone steps. He turned back and looked upwards: the night-lights threw gentle beams across the roof of the mansion, illuminating its magical structures. Plants cascaded in tumbling waterfalls of colour, and thousands of lilies, in hanging baskets and ornate pots, gave off a powerful aromatic scent. William had never given a moment’s thought to plants or flowers before, but now he touched, smelt and admired them. His pleasure grew as he walked along the main pathway to a smaller, darker lane that Justin had called Secrets Avenue.

William walked for about a quarter of a mile, and calculated that he was heading to the east side of the island towards one of the small coves. As the pathway sloped downwards, he could hear the thunder of the sea.

It will work. They’ll be bewitched by the place. He took such a deep breath of fresh air that he felt light-headed. It’s even got to me.

The path curved to the right and a white wooden railing with a thick rope marked out the steep slope to the side. The pebbled path was also slotted with thick wooden slabs, each one lower than the next, to create a set of steps down to the beach. The cove was carved out of the white cliffs, discreet lamps and platforms built into the rocks. The sun-loungers and cushions were lined up like soldiers, and tables with white parasols had been positioned to accommodate diners who wished to eat in the shade. Then, to his surprise, William thought he heard Justin’s laughter, carried on the wind, then the clink of glasses and a guitar playing softly in the dusk. He stayed in the shadows, scanning the darkness for him.

He spotted Justin lying stark naked on a small wooden jetty that extended into the sea. Sammy was with him, wearing an orange sarong tied loosely around his waist and a crown of flowers around his head. He was smoking a long joint, leaning back with his eyes closed. A beautiful girl with long braided hair entwined with flowers was massaging Justin, while another with red and white beads in her hair was dancing nearby, dressed only in a white chiffon scarf. A small girl was sitting between Justin’s legs placing strawberries along his thighs and eating them off him, one after the next. A fourth exotic creature, wearing Justin’s white kaftan, was playing the guitar. William watched in awed silence. The scene was like a painting by Gauguin.

He was just about to make his presence known, when the girl eating the strawberries began to eat Justin. For a moment William felt deeply embarrassed, then so shocked he couldn’t move. All of Justin’s beauties had begun to massage, suck and lick him. But when the girls stripped off their gauzy garments, William was aghast. The figures unintentionally revealed to him were male. William turned and ran away like a schoolboy.

The next morning William had already had breakfast and was sitting by the pool when Justin sauntered towards him. ‘Morning,’ he said, and flopped down on the sun-lounger next to William. ‘I’ve ordered cornflakes and every make of cereal you insist on crunching at breakfast. There’s also a selection of muesli. Did they leave them out for you this morning?’

‘Yes,’ William said. He hated muesli: all those nuts and bits got stuck in his bridge.

‘So, did you sleep well?’ Justin enquired, yawning.

‘Yes,’ came the crisp reply.

‘That’s good.’ Justin scrutinized William’s pink flesh. ‘You need some protection cream — there’s plenty in your room, plus some self-tanning lotion.’ He touched William’s thigh. ‘Look. You’re already burning.’ William pulled his legs away. Justin stood up. ‘Finish your breakfast while I have a swim,’ he said, heading back inside. ‘Then we can talk business.’

William tried to stop himself watching Justin stroll away through the double doors.

Twenty minutes later, William appeared at the pool, dressed in a dreadful pair of khaki shorts, a white shirt, loafers and a Panama hat. Justin clung to the rail at the side of the pool. ‘Going on safari, are we?’ he remarked.

William flushed and hitched up his pants in a defensive gesture. ‘I need to do some exercise,’ he said lamely.

Justin hauled himself out of the pool and placed a dripping arm around William’s shoulders. ‘There’s a well-equipped gym, and one of the boys is a fitness trainer. He’ll have you in shape in no time at all.’

‘I used to work out regularly,’ William muttered, ashamed of his body next to Justin’s.

‘I can see there’s still some muscle tone, so it won’t be too much of a strain,’ Justin lied. He felt sorry for William, surrounded by beauty but so deeply uncomfortable with himself. He led him through to where a large woman sat flicking through a magazine. ‘This is Ruby, Sir William. She’s the skin expert.’ He turned to her. ‘Check his sun lotions. And use some of that self-tan on him.’

‘Yes, sir, will do, sir.’ Ruby bobbed up. ‘Any time you wish, sir.’

Justin smiled at William. ‘Before you go outside again, Ruby will see to you. That’s an order.’ He threw his head back and laughed. ‘Now, let’s have that talk.’

Settled in the study, William tried to resume his authority. ‘I’ve given this thing a lot of thought, and no matter which way I look at it, it’s farcical. I mean, do I really want to invite these people here?’

Justin sighed. ‘You’ll never get it, will you?’ He leaned forward and looked William in the eye. ‘It’s a scam, William. We’re going to pull a scam that exploits the greed and selfishness of all these ghastly people.’ He gestured expansively towards the open window. ‘Look at the place. It’s the nearest you’ll find to paradise on the planet. We publish pictures, get a few articles in the press. It’ll be easy. “The Most Exclusive Villa in the World. The Most Expensive Villa in the World.” They’ll all fall for it. They’ll be over here and ready for the plucking.’

William slapped his hand down hard on the desk. ‘Read my lips. I do not want them here. And even if I did agree, and we got everyone here who has made my life hell—’

Justin put his face in his hands, screeching, ‘No! No! You’ve got it wrong. You still don’t understand. Let me give you an example.’ He sat back again, talking deliberately as though addressing a simpleton. ‘Your ex-wife is at the hairdresser’s. She picks up a copy of Hello! magazine. The page falls open at the headline that has grabbed everyone’s attention: “Tycoon’s Island Paradise Affordable Only By Mega-Rich.” She sees the pictures of the beaches, the rooms, the pool. Then she sees the words: “Exclusive — only multi-millionaires, pop mega-stars, the top fifty wealthiest people on the planet will ever be given the opportunity to see this playground for the world’s élite.”’ William couldn’t help but smile as Justin pressed on. ‘The pictures and the words will stay in her mind, haunting her, tempting her. What wouldn’t she give to be a fly on the wall, just to see the place, see you? Until one day, opening her post...’ Justin mimed a bored woman opening an envelope, then feigned surprise and delight ‘...what should she find but an invitation. A free invitation to taste for herself the delights of this paradise on earth.’

‘Sorry. Don’t buy it.’ William shrugged. ‘If she knows it’s my place, she’d never accept, even if it was free. Besides, I have no desire to have either of my ex-wives set foot on the island.’

‘Fine, cross them off your list.’

‘I already have. I’ve crossed them all off. We’re not doing it.’ With that, William stormed out of the room.

William ate alone at lunch, Justin having taken the boat to pick up some stuff from Tortola. He tucked into a lobster salad followed by a sorbet, and sipped a light sparkling rosé from a small vineyard in California. Afterwards he could hardly keep his eyes open, and decided to take a rest.

Ruby was waiting in his suite. A massage-table covered with white towels was positioned in the centre of the room, an array of oils and lotions laid out on the table. William just wanted to crash out, but Ruby assured him he would sleep even better after a massage. After a quick shower he lay face down on the table. The oils were cool against his hot skin, and Ruby’s touch gentle and soothing. First she massaged him, then applied an astringent lotion to remove the residue of oil from his back. She removed the small towel from his waist, and continued to massage him, gently easing the tension from his muscles. Then she rolled him over, and started to masturbate him. When he came she wiped away his semen and continued the massage. William drifted into a deep sleep, unaware of the slices of iced cucumber laid on his eyelids, while Ruby performed a delicate cleansing facial.

At eight Dahlia, the housekeeper, delivered a message that Justin was held up and would not be returning till the following morning. William felt cross. He wanted company that evening, conversation, perhaps even a game of backgammon. He didn’t feel like eating alone again. He looked at the housekeeper. ‘Dahlia, will you join me?’ he asked bluntly.

‘I would be delighted,’ she said courteously, and took his order for dinner.

William looked at Dahlia and wished he’d changed into a suit. Justin referred to her as Mrs Danvers whenever they discussed her. She was about thirty and exceptionally tall with a taut, muscular figure and waist-length hair combed back from her face and tied in a tight braid. ‘There’s nothing in the mansion that Mrs Danvers doesn’t monitor,’ Justin had told him. ‘She rules with a rod of iron.’

William couldn’t see it. She stood before him in an elegant dark turquoise dress, slit to her thigh, which reminded him of the one Sylvina had worn the night he had met her in France.

They ate together by candlelight. It was a sumptuous dinner, and they conversed easily, discussing wines, restaurants and favourite dishes. William told her about his planned weight-loss and she promised to arrange a low-calorie eating-plan so delicious he would never know it was a diet. William said he liked the idea of her controlling his food intake, and that was when the doubles-entendres started. He enjoyed Dahlia’s titillating questions about how he liked to be controlled, and when she asked if he was too strong-minded ever to release himself into another’s hands, he chuckled and said that he’d never had the opportunity to find out. Dahlia leaned across the table, drew his face towards hers and kissed his lips. She released him and sat back. ‘You have the opportunity now, sir.’

Justin was eating a large slice of watermelon, his feet on the desk in William’s study, watching the security monitors. He couldn’t help but shake his head in admiration. Dahlia was brilliant. He flicked on a second monitor, which showed William being led up the stairs like a puppy by her. He flicked on a third monitor, which showed William’s empty suite, then Dahlia and William entering.

Justin reached for the phone and dialled an internal number. ‘Ruby,’ he said quietly. ‘Wake up, Ruby, and get ready. She’s cracked it.’ He giggled down the line. ‘And even before coffee was served.’

‘Okay,’ came the soft reply, and the phone went dead.

In her small but immaculate room in the north servants’ wing, Ruby selected oils, masks, handcuffs, a leather-thonged whip and various other items she knew Dahlia sometimes used. She took her time, humming tunelessly as she placed them in a wide basket. She was still dressed in her white masseuse’s overall and white sneakers, naked underneath.

Meanwhile Justin slotted a tape into the video-recorder and clicked it on. He waited until he was sure the machine was recording then returned to the security monitor where Dahlia sat astride William’s naked body, his face blindfolded with iced cloths.

Now Ruby entered the room, unheard and unseen by William. Justin checked the headphones to ensure that the microphone was picking up the sound. William might have forgotten the initial reason for the island’s redevelopment, but Justin hadn’t. He had worked towards it with relish and the length of time taken just made this moment even sweeter. Surely William wouldn’t say no to the plan after he’d seen the video of this! When the show was over, Justin would have earned enough money never to have to work again. He and Laura would live the life they had dreamed of. He had always believed that everything he did was for his beloved Laura. Just thinking of her, saying her name, made his body prickle. He was missing her, and couldn’t wait to see her again and tell her that the game was moving into action. All they needed were the players. They would arrive and be treated like royalty, unaware that cameras were filming every second of their intimate moments. Justin had arranged for these intimacies to go well beyond the boundaries of flirtation: the guests would be seduced by the luxurious surroundings, and drawn into a false sense of security, just like William.

The staff were not ordinary domestics, far from it. They were giving William a taste of their real calling in life and they had no limits. The victims would happily pay a fortune to keep out of the press. It would, Justin mused to himself, be a lucrative blackmail weapon. William has to agree. There were endless possibilities, and soon Laura would become a major player.

Justin closed his eyes and remembered Laura standing up on the high rocks near their villa in the South of France. She had been holding what appeared to be a perfectly almond-shaped piece of green glass. She had laughed softly, that husky, whispering laugh. He had never heard such a sound on anyone else’s lips, and as always it touched him. He could see her in his mind as clearly as if she was standing next to him. He remembered the way she held up the glass to the light, transparent, delicate and frighteningly fragile.

‘I have a frozen piece of the sea, Justin,’ she cooed. ‘Look, doesn’t it remind you of me?’ Then she turned away from him and that sweet, delicate laugh he loved so dearly was swept away with the wind and swallowed up by the sea below. She held the glass in the palm of her hand. The light glittering off it made it appear like a green eye. ‘You look at it and it seems smooth,’ she whispered, stroking it. Then she turned it over, drew one slender finger across it and blood came to the surface. It formed a single droplet, which she pressed against Justin’s lips, then licked off the residue herself.

‘Don’t break your promise, Justin, we have a right to draw blood. We have waited so long. We need to make it happen, and make it happen soon.’ Justin was sure that, after this evening, at long last he had in his grasp the one person they wanted to bleed to death.