off again?’
‘Only for now, darling, only for now.’
Elizabeth’s main bathroom lay directly off the dressing room. If there was one thing she didn’t believe in it was skimping on the space available for pampering. She slid back a large mirrored panel to reveal a spacious tub and shower.
‘My word!’ said Georgina. ‘It’s lovely, and so big.’
‘Indeed it is,’ Elizabeth agreed. She had tested its capacity with visiting guests on many occasions – in fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had bathed in it alone. Nor would she tonight.
‘Never cut back on the important things in life,’ she said with a smile, heading over to the tub and putting the plug in place. Her hand automatically reached for the tap but she stopped herself. She didn’t want to run the water, not yet.
Georgina was clearly feeling uncomfortable, standing in the bathroom in nothing but her cheap underwear. ‘I think I’d lose myself in it,’ she said.
Maybe you will
, Elizabeth thought.
For a moment she thought about what she was planning. Was she really intending to go through with this? Her concerns were not about morality, a diluted concept after years of living her lifestyle. It was a word to be found in dictionaries, something that existed elsewhere, like the poverty and hunger that she had risen above.
The only question in her mind was:
Can I get away with this? Can I get what I want and then walk away scot-free?
It said more about her arrogance than her planning skills that she decided the answer was yes. She could do what she wanted: she was Elizabeth Sasdy, Queen of Hollywood.
She stepped behind Georgina so that she was between the girl and the door. ‘No need to be shy,’ she said. ‘I’ll leave you to it once I’ve shown you where everything is.’
Pleased to see that this made the girl relax a little, Elizabeth moved over to the bathroom cabinets. She opened the heavy pearlescent doors to reveal stacks of white towels. Then the next cabinet was opened to show an array of soaps, powders and shampoos. Elizabeth reached in and pulled out a selection of bottles, throwing them one at a time to Georgina.
‘This is wonderful – California citrus, smells like you’re bathing in a lemon tree. This one is supposed to be good for your skin. This is for your hair. This is a scented conditioner.’
Georgina, struggling to hold all the bottles, terrified of dropping one, looked at the object that Elizabeth still had in her hand. ‘And what’s that for?’
‘This, dear?’ asked Elizabeth, opening the cutthroat razor. ‘This is for making me look young again.’
She moved behind the girl, slapping a hand firmly across her mouth to stop the inevitable scream.
Georgina kept hold of the bottles even as she realised what was about to happen, her instinct not to damage things that weren’t hers bred into her so deeply that it helped cost her her life. Not that she would have had time to do much, anyway – Elizabeth was quick, drawing the blade across her throat as her father had done with the pigs back in Hungary: one sure cut. Then she pushed the girl forward so that she fell into the bath, the bottles clattering around her feet.
Georgina hit the enamelled surface with a dull thud, her hands slapping at the bath as she tried to push herself up. Her palms splayed in the blood that was gushing from her. However hard she fought for a breath so that she could scream, the wound in her throat wouldn’t let her.
Elizabeth closed and locked the bathroom door only moments before Nayland appeared on its other side.
‘Elizabeth?’ he shouted. ‘Are you all right? It sounded like something fell over.’
Georgina was still now, the only sound that of the pumping spray of blood against the inside of the bath. A repetitive soft slap against the enamel.
‘I’m fine,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Like you care.’
She undid her dressing gown, not wanting to get blood on it, then stepped forward, straddling Georgina so
‘Only for now, darling, only for now.’
Elizabeth’s main bathroom lay directly off the dressing room. If there was one thing she didn’t believe in it was skimping on the space available for pampering. She slid back a large mirrored panel to reveal a spacious tub and shower.
‘My word!’ said Georgina. ‘It’s lovely, and so big.’
‘Indeed it is,’ Elizabeth agreed. She had tested its capacity with visiting guests on many occasions – in fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had bathed in it alone. Nor would she tonight.
‘Never cut back on the important things in life,’ she said with a smile, heading over to the tub and putting the plug in place. Her hand automatically reached for the tap but she stopped herself. She didn’t want to run the water, not yet.
Georgina was clearly feeling uncomfortable, standing in the bathroom in nothing but her cheap underwear. ‘I think I’d lose myself in it,’ she said.
Maybe you will
, Elizabeth thought.
For a moment she thought about what she was planning. Was she really intending to go through with this? Her concerns were not about morality, a diluted concept after years of living her lifestyle. It was a word to be found in dictionaries, something that existed elsewhere, like the poverty and hunger that she had risen above.
The only question in her mind was:
Can I get away with this? Can I get what I want and then walk away scot-free?
It said more about her arrogance than her planning skills that she decided the answer was yes. She could do what she wanted: she was Elizabeth Sasdy, Queen of Hollywood.
She stepped behind Georgina so that she was between the girl and the door. ‘No need to be shy,’ she said. ‘I’ll leave you to it once I’ve shown you where everything is.’
Pleased to see that this made the girl relax a little, Elizabeth moved over to the bathroom cabinets. She opened the heavy pearlescent doors to reveal stacks of white towels. Then the next cabinet was opened to show an array of soaps, powders and shampoos. Elizabeth reached in and pulled out a selection of bottles, throwing them one at a time to Georgina.
‘This is wonderful – California citrus, smells like you’re bathing in a lemon tree. This one is supposed to be good for your skin. This is for your hair. This is a scented conditioner.’
Georgina, struggling to hold all the bottles, terrified of dropping one, looked at the object that Elizabeth still had in her hand. ‘And what’s that for?’
‘This, dear?’ asked Elizabeth, opening the cutthroat razor. ‘This is for making me look young again.’
She moved behind the girl, slapping a hand firmly across her mouth to stop the inevitable scream.
Georgina kept hold of the bottles even as she realised what was about to happen, her instinct not to damage things that weren’t hers bred into her so deeply that it helped cost her her life. Not that she would have had time to do much, anyway – Elizabeth was quick, drawing the blade across her throat as her father had done with the pigs back in Hungary: one sure cut. Then she pushed the girl forward so that she fell into the bath, the bottles clattering around her feet.
Georgina hit the enamelled surface with a dull thud, her hands slapping at the bath as she tried to push herself up. Her palms splayed in the blood that was gushing from her. However hard she fought for a breath so that she could scream, the wound in her throat wouldn’t let her.
Elizabeth closed and locked the bathroom door only moments before Nayland appeared on its other side.
‘Elizabeth?’ he shouted. ‘Are you all right? It sounded like something fell over.’
Georgina was still now, the only sound that of the pumping spray of blood against the inside of the bath. A repetitive soft slap against the enamel.
‘I’m fine,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Like you care.’
She undid her dressing gown, not wanting to get blood on it, then stepped forward, straddling Georgina so
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