Married In A Moment

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.