Married in a Moment
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Jessica Steele
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Chapter 1
ELLENA stared at the television screen in stunned horror, her brain numbed by what the newscaster had just announced—an avalanche in the Austrian Alps. An avalanche in the very area where Justine was spending a ski-ing holiday with her boyfriend Kit!
Ellena didn’t seem able to think as the newscaster carried on solemnly about tons of snow, rocks and boulders, and no chance of anyone surviving such circumstance! Having done with that piece of news, he went on to the next item.
Though still disbelieving, she was starting to recover sufficiently from her initial shock to tell herself that she was panicking unnecessarily. Only that morning she had received an ‘our hotel’-type of picture postcard from her sister... But—that must have been posted days ago!
Hurriedly Ellena found the card, feverishly scanning it and looking to see if by any chance there was a printed hotel telephone number. There was! In next to no time she was busy dialling. If she could just speak to Justine...
The line was engaged. For a half-hour the line was engaged. Ellena accepted that she was not the only anxious relative wanting to get through, though the waiting was unsustainable.
Perhaps Justine was trying to get through to her. She would know that Ellena would be anxious. She put her phone down. It did not ring.
All lines were probably swamped anyway. Perhaps Kit had managed to get through to his family. He had two brothers; the middle one, Russell, and his wife, Pamela, were looking after their baby while Justine and Kit were away.
Ellena was enormously thankful that she’d insisted on having Russell’s address in Hertfordshire and phone number before Justine left. Ellena had never met any of Kit’s family, but—interfering though it might be, or perhaps because she was so used to looking out for Justine—she had already phoned once to see if baby Violette was settled without her mother. Pamela, Russell’s wife, had been more than a shade frosty, she recalled. But Ellena cared not for Pamela Langford’s frostiness just now and, finding the number, she dialled.
‘Hello. Russell. Ellena Spencer—J-Justine’s sister.’ Striving to keep calm, she announced herself—and hesitated, suddenly realising that if he had not had a telephone call from Kit, nor had he been watching the news, she was going to have to break the news to him herself.
But, ‘Bad do,’ he replied, and she knew that he was aware of the avalanche.
‘You haven’t heard anything from Kit? He hasn’t phoned or anything?’ she questioned urgently.
‘We had a card from him this morning, but that’s all.’
‘Oh,’ Ellena cried faintly, starting to feel a shade frantic. ‘I’ve tried to phone the hotel, but I can’t get through.’
‘Try not to worry. Pamela says you’ll hear soon enough if Kit and your sister are involved.’ Russell attempted to soothe her, and she wondered how they could be so passive. Not worry...! ‘According to the news report we were watching, that area was out of bounds—there shouldn’t have been anyone in that area.’
Oh, heavens! Ellena was two years older than Justine and had done her best to take care of her when their parents had been killed in a mountaineering accident five years ago. Ellena knew from experience that anything labelled ‘out of bounds’ was a magnet for Justine. There shouldn’t have been anyone in the avalanche area! When had that ever stopped Justine?
‘I think I’ll keep trying to get through to the hotel,’ she stated, starting to feel torn. If she went to her office and sent a fax there’d be no one at her flat to take any incoming call. ‘If Kit rings you, would you...?’
‘Look, if you’re seriously worried, why not ring Gideon? He’ll know how to get through.’
Gideon Langford was the eldest of the three brothers. By all accounts he was successful in everything he did, a high-flyer making the engineering firm started by his father into the vast empire it was today. Popular with the opposite sex—but light on his toes, apparently, when it came to marriage talk.
All the same, it defeated her to know how he could get through to the hotel if she couldn’t. But she was beginning to feel quite desperate. Desperate enough to try anything. ‘Have you got his number?’ she asked.
Ellena tried the hotel again first, but when she again couldn’t get through she dialled the number Russell had given her. It was engaged, as it was on her second and third attempt. On her fourth attempt, however, it rang out, and was answered.
‘Langford!’ an all-male voice answered abruptly. So abruptly, Ellena just knew that her call was most unwelcome.
‘I’m sorry to bother you—’ then no more formality; she was almost past caring whom she bothered ‘—my name’s Ellena Spencer—I’m Justine’s sister.’
‘Justine?’ he demanded clarification.
‘Justine and Kit, your brother,’ she inserted, too het up to feel foolish, because he’d know Kit was his brother, for goodness’ sake! ‘They’re on a ski-ing holiday together and—’
‘You’ve heard the news?’ Gideon cut in tersely, clearly a man who had little time to waste.
‘About the avalanche. Yes,’ she said. ‘I’ve been trying to get through to the hotel, but—’
‘They’re missing!’ he stated shortly.
‘Missing?’ she gasped. How Gideon Langford had come by that information totally irrelevant as she clutched hard onto the phone receiver.
‘My brother and his companion left their hotel first thing this morning—they haven’t been seen since.’
‘Oh, no!’ she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. ‘They might have gone anywhere,’ she choked, clutching at straws. ‘Russell said that the area of the avalanche was out of bounds.’
Gideon Langford took in that she had been in touch with his other brother without commenting on it. ‘Did he also tell you Kit would merely see that as another rule to be broken?’ he snarled harshly.
‘J-Justine and Kit are—well met,’ Ellena answered, her voice starting to fracture, the realisation hitting her that Gideon Langford’s harshness might stem from the fact he was keeping a lid on his own emotions about his youngest brother. ‘Is that all you know?’ she questioned.
‘I’ll find out more when I get there.’
‘You’re going to Austria to—?’
‘I’ll have a plane standing by in a couple of hours,’ he butted in grimly. Then he paused for a moment and, still in the same grim tone, asked, ‘Do you want to come?’ He didn’t sound very enthusiastic.
‘Yes,’ she answered without hesitation—it didn’t require any thinking about.
‘Where are you?’
‘My flat near Croydon.’
‘Your address?’ he demanded, barely before she had finished speaking. She gave it to him. ‘I’ll send a car. Be ready in an hour,’ he instructed, and rang off.
An hour ago she’d been watching the television. Now she was on her way to Austria! At any other time she might have taken exception to Gideon Langford’s bossiness. But not now. At this moment she was only grateful that he was taking charge. She felt a desperate need to be near Justine. Anything was better than sitting at home worrying.
As instructed, she was ready an hour later when a chauffeur-driven limousine arrived to take her to the airport.
And it was at the airport, in a private waiting area, that she caught her first glimpse of the man who ran that mammoth concern, Langford Engineering—Kit’s brother! Gideon Langford was tall, about ten years older than Kit, well over six feet, dark-haired and, as they shook hands, she felt pinned by a direct look from his unwavering slate-grey eyes.
She felt herself being checked over, starting with her straight blonde hair, now held back in a neat chignon. Then his eyes took in her creamy skin, her slightly hollowed cheeks and photogenic high cheekbones that sometimes caused her to seem aloof. She wasn’t particularly aloof, she didn’t think. It was just that she usually had some problem on her mind—most often something to do with Justine.
‘I don’t suppose you’ve heard any further news?’ she enquired, as he let go of her hand.
He shook his head. ‘We’ll just keep hoping,’ he said shortly, and that was about the sum total of their conversation until someone came to show them to the private jet.
They had little to say to each other throughout the journey, either. While she knew Gideon Langford was busy with his own thoughts, Ellena lapsed into thinking of her years with Justine since their parents’ deaths. They had been killed on a mountainside—she couldn’t bear it if Justine, too, perished... No, no, she wouldn’t think that way; she just wouldn’t.
She had been just seventeen; Justine fifteen—and on the point of being expelled from school for some misdemeanour. Which of her misdemeanours it had been exactly was lost under the weight of all the others when word had reached them of their parents’ accident.
They had both been much loved by their lively, bubbly parents, but Ellena had had to do some instant growing up. Prior to the accident, she had been hopeful that her father, as he had before, might have been able to persuade Justine’s school from taking such drastic action as expulsion. But, he didn’t come back and, while they were both devastated at losing their parents, it was Justine who had adored her father—he who, it had to be said, had indulged her endlessly and had refused to see anything wrong in a few high spirits and who had been inconsolable for months.
During this time Ellena had realised that her plans to go to university to study accountancy were not going to happen. Although in the light of the tragedy the school had relented, and allowed a much subdued Justine to stay with them, Ellena had felt there was no way she could leave her.
Hiding her own heartache, she’d set about the practicalities of living without their parents. Out of necessity she’d checked into their financial security.
Their finances weren’t brilliant, but they weren’t too bad either, she’d discovered. Both she and Justine were aware of an investment which their father had made for them both in the years of their birth. They would each receive a quite substantial amount—but not until their twentieth birthdays.
Meantime, their parents’ house was heavily mortgaged and there were a few debts outstanding; they had all lived well, but there was nothing left over for a rainy day.
Ellena had left school straight away and, excelling at maths, obtained a job with a firm of accountants. She was reasonably well paid for her junior position, but it was nowhere near enough to pay the mortgage.
‘The house has got to go. Do you mind very much?’ she’d told Justine gently.
‘Without Mummy and Daddy here—I don’t care at all,’ Justine had replied listlessly.
‘We’ll find a lovely flat to rent,’ Ellena had decided with a brightness she was far from feeling.
‘If that’s what you want...’
It wasn’t, but facts had to be faced. So the house had been sold—with just enough money left over to settle all bills and, Ellena hoped, pay rent—if they were careful for the next three years—until her twentieth birthday when she could claim the money from her father’s investment.
Justine had not cared for the first four apartments they’d looked at, but had started to perk up when Ellena, trying not to despair, found a flat at the more expensive end of the market.
‘The rent’s a bit more than I’d calculated.’ Ellena had thought it wouldn’t hurt to let Justine know there would have to be a few economies.
‘I’ll leave school and get a job too,’ Justine had declared.
‘I think we can manage while you finish your education,’ Ellena had smiled, and, because Justine was just Justine, she’d given her a loving hug. Justine had clung to her.
It had been a wrench for Ellena to leave the rambling old house she had been brought up in, but, with more than enough furniture to spare, she and Justine had moved into their new home and started to try to rebuild their lives.
On the plus side, Justine had begun behaving herself at school, and, joy of joys, Andrea Keyte, the head of A. Keyte and Company, the accountancy firm Ellena worked for, had called her into her office one wonderful morning. Mrs Keyte, then a divorced lady of thirty-seven, had interviewed her personally for the job, so knew all about her present qualifications, and that she had hoped to study accountancy. Mrs Keyte had, she’d said that wonderful morning, observed how much Ellena enjoyed her work and how easily she seemed to grasp complicated issues. How, she’d enquired, would Ellena feel about being articled to her?
‘You mean—train to be an accountant—to gain my qualifications here?’ Ellena gasped, suddenly starting to see light, unexpected, wonderful light, after the darkness of recent months.
Apparently, that was exactly what Mrs Keyte—who was later to invite Ellena to call her Andrea—did mean. ‘It will mean a lot of hard work,’ she cautioned. ‘Study in the evenings when you’d probably much rather be out with your boyfriend.’
Ellena didn’t have a boyfriend. What time did she have? Before her parents’ deaths she’d spent evenings and weekends either swotting over homework from school, or on some mad adventure with them. Since their deaths, Justine had taken precedence.
‘I can do it,’ she said eagerly. ‘I know I can do it.’
‘It will take all of five years for you to be ready to take your finals,’ Andrea had warned.
‘I want to do it; I really do.’ Ellena, fearful that her employer might change her mind, promised this earnestly.
‘Then you shall.’
And she had. It had not been easy. Left alone to cope with the work and the studying, Ellena knew she would have coped with only minor panics. But, in avowing, ‘I know I can do it’, she had not taken Justine—or rather Justine finally coming to terms with the loss of their parents—into consideration.
By the time Justine’s sixteenth birthday had approached, it seemed she was close to being expelled from school again.
‘I’d better find time to go and see if your headmaster will overlook your truancy one last time,’ Ellena stated when, having arrived home from the office with a load of studying to do, Justine owned up to not having been to school for a while.
‘I shouldn’t, if I were you,’ Justine grinned, ‘I’ve no intention of going back—even if they’d have me.’
‘Justine!’
‘Don’t go on, there’s a love. I’ve been awfully good today.’
Ellena did not trust the word ‘good’. ‘“Good”, as in...?’
‘As in, I’ve been and got myself a job in a boutique. I start tomorrow.’
‘You’re not sixteen yet!’ Ellena gasped.
‘I told them I was. And I will be, by the time they find out I wasn’t.’ She laughed. She was infectious. Ellena remembered she had laughed too.
Dear, dear Justine, she couldn’t be dead! Ellena choked on a sob of sound, and caught Gideon Langford’s sharp glance on her from across the aisle. She hastily turned to look, unseeing, out of the aircraft window at the night sky.
He looked pretty bleak too, she realised, and strangely felt she wanted to help his suffering in any way she could. She realised her sensitivities at this dreadful time must be bouncing about all over the place, and strove again to calm her emotions. She had no idea what lay before them—it could be the best or the worst of news—so she must gather what strength she could.
Determinedly she pushed the weakening worst thoughts from her. Concentrate on the good things, she instructed herself. That time Justine... Her thoughts were at once back with Justine: Justine laughing, Justine crying; Justine bringing her first boyfriend home, the great unwashed group of her friends who had—to the dismay of their neighbours—almost camped on their doorstep; Justine starting new jobs, lasting a day, a week—miracle of miracles one job had even lasted three months! Justine’s taste in boyfriends improving—her boyfriends starting to look as though they bathed and changed their clothes regularly.
By the time Ellena was twenty, and their finances were at last buoyant, however, she’d had enough of chasing halfway around London on what transport she could find, looking for Justine when she didn’t come home at night. Ellena had found time to have driving lessons, and bought a car. She’d had many qualms about letting Justine have driving lessons as well—she was hard enough to keep tabs on. But, as ever, her soft heart had won over her sensible head, and Justine learned to drive too—and Ellena bought her a car also. Then Justine fell in love—and the man she fell in love with seemed equally fluffy-minded.
Kit Langford wasn’t too keen on work either, by the sound of it. ‘What does he do?’ Ellena had asked.
‘Do?’ Justine seemed to have no idea what she meant. ‘Oh, you mean work! Oh, he’s not working at the moment; he’s having too good a time spending the money he came into on his twenty-first birthday from his father’s estate.’
Ellena was sorry that Kit was without a father too. But she couldn’t help but feel responsible for her younger sister. ‘Does he live at home with his mother?’ she asked.
‘His mother remarried a year after his father died—she’s living somewhere hot—the Bahamas, I think.’
‘So where does he live?’
‘He’s got a flat; his brother bought it for him when he booted him out of his house.’
‘His brother...’
‘Well, it was rather a riotous party, and Gideon was away. But we did try and clear up all the mess.’
Justine had no need to go on. Ellena saw the picture quite clearly. She had herself come home from a late evening office function one time to find all hell had been let loose in her absence—music blaring and all sorts of people, no two with hair the same colour—pinks and greens all competing. Justine had decided to have a party. It had taken all of a week to restore the flat to good order, and a month to be on speaking terms with the neighbours again.
When Justine had fallen in love with Kit, though, no one else seemed to exist for her but him. Gradually Ellena had learned a little more about Kit’s family. They were well to do, by all accounts, though Justine had never met either of his brothers. Kit saw his eldest brother occasionally, and there were frequent phone calls between the two, but Gideon Langford had a busy life on all fronts. Kit, who seemed as besotted with Justine as she was with him, wanted to spend all his time with her.
They had been going out with each other for quite some while when, as happy as you please, Justine had come home, holding a bottle of champagne aloft.
Ellena had broken off from her studies. ‘We’re celebrating?’ she teased, joy in her heart that, by the look of it, her little sister had just become engaged.
She should, she’d later realised, have known not to prejudge anything where Justine was concerned. For, grinning madly, and obviously delighted, ‘We’re pregnant!’ she announced.
Ellena was studying hard for her finals just then, though, had she thought that being pregnant might calm Justine down to lead a quieter life, she discovered she was much mistaken—Justine’s relationship with Kit entered a stormy phase. And while Ellena had been mentally adjusting to the fact that her sister might soon be leaving to set up home with Kit—of that there had been no sign.
Justine still met Kit occasionally, but, more often than not, would come home needing to be soothed. When Ellena wasn’t calming Justine’s agitation, she was coping with her being unwell—and wondering what to do for the best. Her tenancy agreement stated definitely, no children. By the look of it, they would have to find somewhere else to live.
Then everything seemed to be happening at once. Ellena took her final accountancy exam—and with joy and not a little astonishment learned she had passed with an exceptionally good mark. But, even while she was relaying this news, Justine went into labour.
‘I want Kit!’ she’d cried.
Ellena contacted him and was warmed by his caring. He must have broken all records—he was at the hospital only minutes after Justine and Ellena—she didn’t know which of the three of them was the more panic-stricken.
Kit stayed with Justine when the time arrived, and Ellena paced the waiting area fearing she was going to break down in tears and disgrace herself at any moment now if she didn’t hear something soon.
Then Kit, his grey look gone, grinning from ear to ear, was coming to find her. ‘What do you think of Violette Ellena?’ he asked—and, uncaring that she might disgrace herself, Ellena waited only for him to add that mother and daughter were doing fine before she burst into tears.
She had thought Kit seemed to grow up a little then. In any event he wouldn’t hear of anything, other than Justine and their daughter moving in with him. In the short time Justine was in hospital he turned his spare bedroom into a baby’s room, complete with crib and fluffy toys.
Justine was the happiest Ellena had ever seen her. She was but a few weeks away from her twentieth birthday. ‘You feel all right about moving in with Kit?’ Ellena felt she had to ask. ‘You needn’t. If you’re worried about our tenancy agreement, we can look for...’
‘I’m very all right about it,’ Justine answered, and it was clear that such a small thing as having a landlord come down on them like a ton of coals for breaching their tenancy agreement had never for one moment bothered her. ‘I want to live with Kit.’
‘In that case, since you’ll have enough to do looking after the baby, I’ll pack your clothes and—’
‘No need to bother with that, Ellena-Ellen,’ Justine interrupted sweetly, using a pet name for her sister she always used whenever everything in her world was rosy. ‘It’ll take a little while for me to get my shape back, I expect, so I’ll have to manage with a couple of these tents you bought me! But, as soon as my inheritance comes through, I intend to dump my old wardrobe and buy new clothes.’
In Ellena’s view, Justine had some lovely garments in her wardrobe and it would be a sin to throw them out. But Justine had just been a very brave girl, and had presented her with a most beautiful little niece. Justine could do no wrong. Even when, as the weeks went by, she spent money like it was going out of style.
Kit had a single bed fitted into the minute box-room in his flat. It came in useful when, more and more frequently of late, they asked Ellena to come and baby-sit her niece.
Ellena had babysat the adorable scrap a week ago last Saturday evening. But it was on Sunday morning, as she was preparing to return to her own home, that she learned that Justine was as irresponsible now as she ever had been.
Ellena said goodbye to Kit, cooed a ‘bye-bye’ to the wonderful little girl who had so soon won her heart, and was about to make her farewells to her sister when Justine said she’d come out to her car with her.
Oh, dear, knowing her of old, Ellena suspected Justine had something to say which she feared she might not like to hear. She’d had an hour in which to say something—yet she was leaving it until Ellena was on her way out!
‘We’re going away tomorrow,’ Justine announced as they walked to the parking area. ‘We’ll—er—probably be away for a month or so.’
Given that it was January, and had seemed a long winter, a month somewhere warm might do them all the world of good. ‘Where are you going?’ she asked, her thoughts on Violette and how they would have to guard her. ‘You don’t think you should wait until the baby’s a little older?’ she queried. She didn’t want to put a damper on their plans but, apart from the time factor, and what would be involved in getting any vaccinations done—wasn’t Violette a little young for such treatment?
‘Oh, we’re not taking her with us!’ Justine answered blithely. While Ellena was starting to be concerned that there was no way she could look after baby Violette for ‘probably a month or so’ and at the same time do her job, Justine was going on: ‘Kit’s heard of this wonderful place in the Austrian Alps. We’re going ski-ing. And don’t worry, Kit’s brother’s going to mind the baby while...’
‘His brother! Gideon? The one who, according to reports, works all day and parties all night?’ Ellena exclaimed aghast.
‘No, not him! Kit’s other brother.’
Ellena was only marginally relieved. ‘Russell, the married one?’
‘Mmm, Russell,’ Justine confirmed. ‘Kit hasn’t seen him in ages, and he’s a bit of a dream—while his wife, Pamela, she’s a bit of a shrew, with a nose for money like no one you’ve ever met! When I mentioned I’d be prepared to pay handsomely—and for the cost of a temporary nanny—she couldn’t offer her services fast enough.’
Apparently Kit had used up all the money left to him by his father. But Ellena didn’t think she liked the sound of this arrangement at all. Perhaps she could employ a temporary nanny herself to take care of the baby during the day and look after her herself at night. But complications stirred before she could so much as voice her thoughts. Apart from the fact that children were not allowed where she lived—crying babies with massive lung power in particular—since qualifying as an accountant she was starting to take responsibility for her own clients; hers was no longer a nine-to-five job.
‘But—but—what about clothes?’ She was putting obstacles in the way on purpose, she knew she was, but somehow she couldn’t bear the thought of them going away and leaving the baby with strangers.
‘Oh, heck, Ellena, I’ve put on an inch or two since Violette arrived; my old salopettes were never going to fit me anyway. Besides, what are credit cards for?’
By the sound of it Justine, who was still replenishing her wardrobe, intended to purchase all she required at her holiday destination.
Ellena knew she was on a losing argument, even as she suggested, ‘Don’t you think Violette’s a little young to be left with strangers? She’s only...’
‘Oh, Ellena!’ Justine exclaimed impatiently. ‘I knew you’d be like this, which is why I didn’t tell you straight away when Kit and I decided to take off. Besides, Violette has met Russell and Pamela—we went there one day last week when we were wondering who best to leave her with. Ideally it would be you, but you’re going up in the world with your job and, having wrecked your social life over the years—I know I’ve been sheer murder for you sometimes,’ she put in, her flare of temper dying as she became love-able, charming Justine again, ‘I just didn’t want to be responsible for wrecking your career so soon after you’ve qualified.’
‘Oh, Justine!’ Ellena said helplessly.
‘Austria’s not the moon,’ Justine smiled winningly.
That had been the last time she had seen her. How glad she was now that she had asked for Pamela and Russell Langford’s address and phone number, that she and Justine had said goodbye on friendly terms. She had managed to wish her a happy holiday, Ellena recalled—and without realising it, took a shaky breath.
‘We’re about to land,’ the stern-faced man sitting across the aisle cut into her darkening thoughts.
‘Thank you,’ she mumbled, made hastily aware that she was in an aircraft and that in the next hour or so she could be hearing news that she did not want to hear.
Icy cold air hit them as the plane door opened. Ellena was glad of her thick trousers, sweater and sheepskin coat. Glad, too, of Gideon Langford’s assistance because, for all he didn’t seem to say much, and what he did say was curt and to the point, it was he who made what explanations were necessary. He took over, asking questions—though there was no more news now than there had been then.
She had brought only the barest minimum in the way of luggage, and without humour wondered if perhaps she was more like her younger sister than she realised.
But then Ellena discounted this, realising that, unlike Justine, her reasons were practical. Gideon Langford had said, ‘I’ll have a plane standing by’, so she’d known it might only be a small aircraft with little room for a heavy and bulky suitcase.
Gideon saw to the small airport formalities and she followed him out to a waiting car. The cold no longer bothered her. It was late, dark and her nerves were stretched. She got into the car with no idea where they were going—she just wanted to find Justine.
Kit’s brother was highly efficient, she discovered, for after they had been driving some while the driver pulled up outside a smart hotel. It was not the same one that had been pictured on Justine’s postcard.
The driver got out and opened the door for her. She found herself standing beside Gideon Langford while he relieved the driver of their small amount of luggage.
‘What are we doing?’ she asked, her wits seeming to be numb.
‘I’ve booked a couple of rooms here,’ he replied. He had taken care of her accommodation too, apparently, and he was already turning to go into the hotel.
‘I want to go to...’ She wanted to say Justine’s name, but was caught out by an emotional moment and could not. ‘The other hotel.’
‘So do I—we’ll check in first,’ he decreed, and Ellena realised, as she followed him into the smart hotel and he summoned someone in authority, that Gideon Langford, once he’d had an update on the situation, had always intended to go and check out the other hotel whether she went with him or not.
Ellena stood by him aware that he, or someone in his employ, must have phoned ahead so they’d have somewhere to stay. The local police had been informed that their plane had arrived, apparently, and they, with the hotel manager, adjourned to a private room—but only to hear that there were no new developments, that everything was as bleak as had been forecast. A well-rehearsed plan had been put into operation, with rescue teams combing the area—they had reported back that there was absolutely no chance of anyone caught in that avalanche surviving.
Ellena strove valiantly for control. She could not believe it, would not believe it. Nor, apparently, would Gideon Langford. Stiffly he thanked everyone for their efforts and, flicking a glance to where Ellena stood dry-eyed and taut with control, said. ‘And now, Miss Spencer and I would like to see where our relatives were staying.’
She hated that word ‘were’, the past tense, even if logic said loudly and clearly that since Justine and Kit were not around to occupy their hotel accommodation, ‘were’ very clearly fitted.
They left their luggage to be taken up to their rooms, and drove away from their hotel in the same car in which they had arrived. This time, though, with a police escort. The reason was explained—and also why they were booked into a different hotel—when they got to the place where Kit and Justine had been staying. Regardless of the lateness of the hour and the risk of frostbite, some of the press, having been blocked at the small airport, were keen to have an interview with the missing man’s brother.
Ellena had been aware that Gideon Langford was well known. How well known was borne out by the fact that he knew some of the newsmen by their first names. ‘You know as much as I do, John,’ he answered one reporter, while at the same time ushering Ellena inside the hotel.
‘Who’s the lady?’ someone else asked—they did not get a reply.
The hotel manager showed them up to the room which Kit and Justine had used. ‘I have not had the room disturbed,’ the Austrian assured them, and, receiving their polite thanks, sensitively went out, closing the door behind him.
Only then, alone with Gideon Langford, did it dawn on Ellena, having been in his company for some hours now, how little conversation had passed between them.
Nor did she feel like talking then. She stared round the twin-bedded compact room, imagined she could hear Justine and Kit’s laughter, the way they had been laughing that last Saturday—abruptly she blanked her mind off, and became aware of Gideon Langford opening drawers and poking about in wardrobes.
‘There are a few clothes here—but. no suitcases,’ he stated matter-of-factly.
Ellena went over to the open wardrobe and, standing next to him, observed a couple of ancient anoraks which she recognised as belonging to Kit and Justine.
‘M-my sister was going to buy new,’ she informed him chokily. ‘She was—is—oh, dammit...’ Her voice broke; she turned from him, determined to gain control. Justine wasn’t dead, she wasn’t, and she wasn’t going to cry. ‘Justine is going to buy a whole new wardrobe,’ she made herself continue.
She guessed Gideon was having a hard time with his emotions as well, when he retorted shortly, ‘Kit didn’t have any money!’
Even so, that annoyed her. It gave her the stiffening she needed, anyhow, as she retorted straight back: ‘Then perhaps it’s just as well Justine had her own money—she probably paid for this trip.’ Immediately the acid words were out she felt contrite. She flicked a glance at him, saw he didn’t seem to view her as his favourite person, and at once she apologised, ‘I’m sorry, Mr Langford, I’m trying so hard not to go to pieces. I d-didn’t mean to give you the rough end of it.’
Whether he accepted her apology she had no idea, for he just stood and stared at her from those steady slate-grey eyes. But she rather guessed she had been forgiven when, turning from her, he grunted, ‘Gideon.’
She felt she should curtsy, then wondered if stress had made her light-headed. But she forgot everything save Justine when she spied in one of the open drawers a sweater she had lent her one time.
‘No. definitely no suitcases,’ Gideon announced, sounding positive.
‘If you’re thinking that they may have packed up and left—and you can’t wish it any more than I—I have to tell you, Justine in the main is so happy-go-lucky. She planned to buy anything she needed here—she’s just as likely to have arrived without luggage.’
‘Or followed Kit’s example and packed anything she might have thought of in a plastic carrier,’ he documented, adding, ‘As you remarked, a pair well met.’
They stayed another few minutes in the room but there were no more clues to be picked up; only a few toiletries were left in the bathroom. Ellena could feel her emotions on the brink of spilling over, and had not Gideon suggested they leave she would have made the suggestion herself.
They had chance of a private word with the hotelier, who promised he would contact them instantly, should his guests return. Then, again running the gauntlet of a couple of hardy pressmen, they returned to their own hotel.
Gideon Langford had a room opposite hers and, having escorted her up in the lift, he went into her room with her. ‘Will you be all right here?’ he enquired courteously.
‘Yes, thank you,’ she replied politely.
He didn’t leave straight away, but stayed to suggest, ‘You’ll want to phone your parents.’
‘My parents are dead,’ she answered tonelessly.
‘You’re on your own?’
‘No,’ she denied. No way was she ready to accept that Justine wasn’t coming back.
‘You live with someone?’ he asked sharply, and she just knew he meant some man.
‘I live alone,’ she responded curtly.
‘Goodnight!’ Gideon Langford turned away from her, obviously fed up.
‘I’m sorry,’ she found herself apologising. ‘I’m—on edge.’
He halted at the door and turned round, relenting, ‘We both are.’ And then proceeded to instruct, ‘Try and get some rest. Have anything you need brought to your room. With a few pressmen around, you’d better stay where you are until I come for you.’ He made to leave, thought for a moment, and then said, ‘I may be out some time tomorrow. I’ll contact you as soon as I get back.’
‘Where are you going?’
He hesitated, but then did her the courtesy of being honest with her. ‘Out to the avalanche site.’
‘I’m coming with you,’ she said at once, no please or thank you.
‘I don’t think—’
‘I’m coming!’ she butted in. If he thought she was going to stay here while he went there—where Justine and Kit might be—he could think again!
He shrugged, ‘Suit yourself,’ and left her.
Ellena supposed she must have slept at some time—it didn’t feel like it. She was up at six, showered and dressed and waiting for Gideon Langford’s call.
It wasn’t long in coming. He would see her in half an hour’s time. Meanwhile, he had some breakfast sent up to her room. Ellena wasn’t hungry, but drank some strong hot coffee and belatedly remembered work she was supposed to be doing that day.
She put through a call to Andrea in England and explained why, and where she was. ‘I’m not sure when I’ll be back,’ she warned.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Andrea answered warmly. ‘Take as long as you need, Ellena,’ she suggested gently. ‘We’ll all be hoping for you.’
Gideon Langford, when he knocked on her door, was not in talkative mood. ‘There’s no news?’ she asked urgently.
He shook his head. ‘Ready?’
Wordlessly she went with him out of the hotel and to the waiting car, and said not another word in the hour-long drive to where the disaster had occurred.
There were some officials waiting for them, but when, after walking some way, they stood back and pointed and explained about the mass of snow, and the boulders and rocks it had brought down in its wake, Ellena could see for herself that anyone foolhardy enough to chance ski-ing in that area would not have stood a chance.
She felt what little colour she had in her face drain away, felt gut-wrenching pain and wanted to scream, and to go on screaming. She turned away, collided into someone. It was Gideon. His arms came around her. He held her. They held each other, two human beings in need of solace. She guessed that, like her, he had always looked out for his younger sibling and it had been a role taken on willingly. She wanted the holding to go on.
Ellena broke from him, her mind in a turmoil. Somehow she got back to the car; somehow Gideon was there too. The car was moving, she staring unseeing out of one window on one side, he staring unseeing out of the window on the other side.
They had been driving on the return journey for some while. Ellena was still feeling stunned, shaken, and still not ready to believe it, to believe that she had lost her sister, that poor little Violette had lost her parents, when suddenly it hit her that the. poor little scrap might have been orphaned.
‘Oh, no!’ escaped her on an anguished cry of sound, and as Gideon Langford turned from his non-contemplation of the view, she whispered, ‘What about the baby!’
‘Baby?’ he echoed, and sounded so startled that Ellena came to, realising she was not alone. ‘What baby?’ he questioned tautly.
She moved from her own non-contemplation of the view to look at him. And it was her turn to be startled. For clearly Gideon Langford had no idea that Kit had a baby daughter. A daughter of four months old.
Astonished, she realised that Gideon Langford had no idea at all that he was an uncle!
