Married In A Moment

‘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.’