The Chocolate Lovers' Diet (19 page)

Lewis tucked his thumb into his mouth and sucked on it thoughtfully. ‘I think you make a very nice mummy,’ he said.

‘Thank you.’ Yes, she could do this. What better approval could she get? A tear came to her eye and she reached over to kiss Lewis on his forehead. ‘I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.’

Chapter Forty

T
he taxi whisked Nadia along The Strip. On either side of her, the big flashy hotels brashly advertised their wares. It was like a bonsai version of the world – Egypt, Paris, New York, Venice and Ancient Rome all bound tightly together for the people who, she assumed, couldn’t be bothered to travel to the real places. At another time or in different circumstances, Nadia might well have picked up on the tacky buzz of the place, for there was certainly an energy about it – but at the moment, she could only think of the dangers that lurked for her husband behind the glittering signs advertising glamorous shows, dancing girls and cut-price buffets.

Nadia’s hotel wasn’t on The Strip. It was a few blocks behind it and the atmosphere couldn’t have been more different. There was no attempt at even a veneer of glitz here. The budget motel was more than frayed at the edges. Parts of the neon sign proclaiming
BUDGET MOTEL
looked as if they had long since died and no one, it seemed, had attempted to repair them. That was obviously the attention to detail that you could expect on a budget. Style, cleanliness and charm were optional extras that weren’t
included. The water in the tiny swimming pool had a green hue and looked like a health hazard – it was clear that the people who came to this flophouse didn’t come for the relaxation either. And neither had she.

It was early afternoon when she checked in and the sun was blazing outside, a melting 103 degrees, but even then the darkened hotel lobby was filled with people sitting at the banks of slot machines which were beeping, peeping and flashing away. Pensioners with a measly pot of change clutched in their pigmented hands perched on worn stools and relentlessly fed coins into waiting metal mouths that devoured them and offered nothing in return. Nadia could hardly believe her eyes. It was possibly one of the most depressing places on earth.

Leaving her luggage in the scruffy, soulless room, Nadia headed back to The Strip. Here the atmosphere was glamour all the way. Everything finely tuned to relieve you of as much money as possible. She was sure that she’d find Toby in one of the monster, themed casinos that he’d so raved about after his initial visit to the city – the monster casinos that had triggered his addiction to gambling in the first place. But which one? There were just so many to choose from.

She took a cab to the south end of The Strip and started at the enormous Mandalay Bay resort. Walking briskly past its waterfalls and palm trees and ignoring its indoor shark reef, Nadia headed straight for the casino. Simply to get to your room it was necessary to circumnavigate boulevards filled with opportunities to gamble.

In the casino she was faced by acres and acres of slot
machines, crowding her vision to the horizon and beyond, greedily waiting for their next customer. Gaming tables were filled with people playing craps, baccarat, blackjack, roulette and poker – all games that she’d heard of but had never been tempted to try – while cold-eyed croupiers and security staff watched their every move. Perhaps if she knew which was Toby’s particular weakness it would make him easier to track down. She had known that this was going to be difficult, but hadn’t quite appreciated how much it was going to be like looking for the needle in the proverbial haystack. Where the hell could her husband be in this lot? Not here, it seemed.

Next door was the Luxor resort – an enormous black pyramid that dominated the skyline, complete with its very own Sphinx. Even the lobby resembled a visit to the temples of Ancient Egypt, with towering statues and representations of the gods. But the only god here was gambling and, again, Nadia headed straight for the casino. It looked much the same as the last one and, once inside, it was nigh on impossible to find your way out again. But it was easy to see how these green-baize quicksands could suck the unwary under. Food and drinks were constantly on hand so that there was no need for the dedicated gamblers ever to leave the tables. Climate-controlled rooms ensured their personal comfort – no need to bother with that awful sunshine outside. There was no natural daylight in here, no clocks, no exit signs. Once you were in, you were trapped.

Nadia must have circled the vast room a dozen times, but she could see no sign of Toby. How long was her task going to take her? Casinos like this stretched out along
the entire length of The Strip. If there was ever a time that she felt she needed her friends with her then it was now. She missed the other members of The Chocolate Lovers’ Club desperately and, despite the bustling crowds of Las Vegas, she’d never experienced such loneliness before.

Hours and hours had passed and her legs were weary from all the walking. Night had fallen and the lights on The Strip were blinking alluringly. She’d been to a medieval castle, a replica of New York complete with indoor rollercoaster, the largest hotel in the world with its thousands of Identikit rooms, and had now landed at a mini-recreation of Paris, including a half-size Eiffel Tower and Arc de Triomphe.

Despite the wide variety of their exterior dressings, inside, all the casinos were the same. Miles and miles of slot machines thinly disguised by a Parisian street scene or a tropical paradise or your very own slice of the Nile. Miles and miles of opportunities to lose vast sums of money. Nadia’s mind was whirring with flashing lights, bright colours and endless stimulation. This place certainly earned its title of Disneyland for grown-ups – it was just that the white-knuckle rides here could be so much more costly. But it couldn’t just be her who was aware of the dark side of this lavish playground.

Nadia was tired, hungry and losing hope fast. Perhaps she should have let Lucy come with her. She’d so glibly turned down her friend’s offer and thought that she could manage alone. Now she wasn’t so sure. She seemed to have covered so little ground by herself. It felt like a mammoth
task that faced her – even more mammoth than the size of these casinos that were beginning to bear down on her.

Nadia stood under the fine mist that was being sprayed into the street to cool down passers-by and, turning her face to the jets, let the water soothe her. It was a long way from the height of summer, but even at night the temperatures were nudging the mercury to levels that she certainly wasn’t used to.

Nadia looked down The Strip. There were miles and miles of casinos still to visit. Toby was here somewhere. He was in one of these gargantuan places, playing the tables or feeding the slots. Losing their money. Losing his sanity. All she had to do was find him.

Chapter Forty-One

A
utumn didn’t realise that she’d dozed off in the chair until she heard a voice next to her. Immediately, she was wide awake. ‘Rich?’

‘Hey,’ he said. His voice was cracked, barely audible. She moved closer to him.

Taking his hand, she murmured, ‘We’ve been so worried about you. How are you feeling?’ She turned and scanned the ward. ‘I’ll get the nurse. Do you want something to eat? Drink?’

‘Water,’ he murmured.

Pouring a glass from the jug on his bedside, Autumn noticed that her hand was shaking. She put a straw into the glass and then held it close to her brother’s lips. It would have been better to go and get a fresh jug – this water was a day old – but she didn’t want to leave him alone for a minute. As he gulped the water gratefully, some dribbled down his chin and Autumn wiped it gently away with a tissue.

‘Who did this to you?’ she asked.

Richard avoided her eyes. ‘The less you know about this the better, believe me.’

‘You should go to the police.’

Richard forced a laugh, but it left him wracked with a coughing spasm. ‘The police can’t protect me from these kind of people.’

‘Look what they’ve done to you,’ she said. ‘You’ve got a fractured skull, a broken shoulder, busted ribs and internal bruising. And that’s just the top half, Rich.’

‘Yeah,’ he said, forcing a strained smile. ‘Just think what they could have done if they were really trying.’

‘The hospital thought that you’d been hit by a car.’

‘Baseball bat, more likely.’

Autumn started to cry. ‘What will it take to get it through your thick – and fractured – skull, that you’re mixing with the wrong people?’

Her brother took her hand. ‘This is it,’ he said. ‘I promise you. As soon as I get out of the hospital, I’ll clean up my act.’

Autumn only wished that she could believe it.

‘You didn’t tell Mater and Pater, did you?’

Autumn nodded. ‘They’re both away on business.’

Richard snorted faintly. ‘Tell me something new,’ he said. ‘Take it they didn’t feel moved to rush back to my sickbed.’

‘I didn’t tell them how bad you were,’ she lied. ‘They’re very concerned.’

‘Of course.’ But Richard didn’t sound any more convinced than she did. It was just the two of them, as it always had been.

The nurses had tended to Richard and then he’d fallen asleep again. Now there was a faint flush of colour in his
cheeks and his breathing was more relaxed. It felt as if her brother was finally out of danger. It was late and she was very, very tired.

Tonight, she’d go back to her own bed. It was about time that she got a good night’s sleep. Richard wasn’t quite out of the woods yet and there would be weeks of bedside visits yet to come. She was emotionally and physically exhausted. One night at home surely wouldn’t hurt.

Autumn had taken a taxi back to her flat and she’d struggled to stay upright in the back of it. It would be so nice to curl up in a ball and let oblivion wash over her. Warm air pumped out from the vents, making her heavy eyes roll. Her lids felt like sandpaper as she tried to blink herself awake.

She paid the driver and let herself into the front door. Normally, the bright security lights were triggered when the door opened, but now the hall remained in darkness and part of her was grateful that she didn’t have to deal with the glare of fluorescent tubes.

Fumbling in her voluminous handbag for the keys, Autumn realised she was going to have to put the light on to have any hope of finding them. As she reached out to search for the switch, a hand curled round her wrist and, with one swift movement, wrenched her arm behind her back. Autumn let out a pained gasp and her handbag fell to the floor. She stepped forward and heard the crunching of glass underfoot – the light bulbs had been broken. Her attacker tightened his grip and her wrist burned. Then she felt the press of cold steel against her throat.

‘Tell your little brother that we want our gear back,’ a gruff voice said against her ear. She could smell whisky, expensive aftershave and recognised a strong East End accent. The guy was tall, thickset, and she could feel his leather jacket pressed against her. ‘If not, we’ll have to come back and finish the job properly. Get that?’

No words would come out. Autumn tried to nod, but couldn’t move either.

The knife nicked against her throat and she felt a warm trickle of blood run down her neck.

‘Get it?’

‘Yes.’ The word squeezed out of her.

‘Take this phone and give it to him,’ the man said. ‘Tell him we’ll be in touch.’ She felt his grip on her release and he pushed her away from him. Autumn spun round as she heard the front door bang shut, but all she could see was a shadowy figure hurrying away down the street. She felt herself dry retch and touched the blood on her neck again. What did he mean when he said he’d finish the job properly? Was it Richard they were threatening, or was it her they were going to hurt?

On unsteady legs, Autumn made her way up to her flat. The police might not be able to protect Richard from these thugs, but then, it seemed, neither could she.

Chapter Forty-Two

B
y midnight, Nadia had reached the middle stretch of The Strip. If possible, it was busier now than it had been during the daytime. She’d seen the spectacular fountain and light-show outside the Bellagio Hotel, she’d seen the colourful volcano explode outside The Mirage, shooting flames 100 feet into the air – an event that occurred every fifteen minutes throughout the night. And she’d seen the gondoliers in their authentic striped jerseys singing ‘O Sole Mio’ on Venice’s Grand Canal on the second floor
inside
the Venetian Hotel. She’d watched the cornflower-blue sky overhead complete with its very own fluffy, scudding computer-generated clouds. Only the chill of the air-conditioning reminded you that this was all a pretty illusion.

This whole place was too surreal. It was trying too hard to pretend that it wasn’t what it really was – but these fun, family-friendly façades couldn’t hide the fact that behind them lurked a place of misery, ruined lives, failed fortunes and a house that
always
won.

Out on the street, the pavements were still burning and her legs had swollen in response. She had the ankles of a baby elephant, making each step painful and slow. Her
fingers had blown up to shapeless sausages. Here the hotels were more spread out, the area not quite so salubrious. The police were out in force, patrolling The Strip. Minor skirmishes broke out as she made her way further north – those unlucky at the tables now, perhaps, regretting their rash actions. Haggard, barely dressed women were touting for business; every five minutes a flyer was thrust into her hand for some seedy lapdancing club or another.

It seemed impossible to think that the government at home was planning to allow a slew of Supercasinos to spring up across the UK, bringing all this misery to British shores. Had anyone actually come here to see the reality? Drunken parties of stags populated the streets and, in the place where Elvis was still very much alive, a couple of dozen guys wearing Elvis masks complete with plastic quiffs lurched past her singing, ‘Here we go!’ in Home Counties accents, oblivious to anyone else in their drink-soaked joy.