Breaking the Rules. Barbara Taylor Bradford

and admired him, the first-born of the Vaughan tribe, but they had never been close. The age difference had probably been a stumbling block.

      None of his siblings had wanted to buy the apartment, mainly because they did not want to live in New York. Edward commuted between Los Angeles and London; Thomas had a manor house in Gloucestershire and a pied-à-terre in London, and Horatio was a Londoner born and bred, and would never dream of living anywhere else on earth. Portia felt the same, whilst Miranda was a country bumpkin in rural Kent when she wasn’t working on set designs up in town. She owned a small studio near Eaton Square where she stayed when she was working on a play, but mostly she preferred to muck about in the country.

      There were no two ways about it, his father had sold him the apartment at a bargain price: exactly what he himself had paid for it twenty years ago, and not a penny more. If it had gone on the market, the price would have been four times as much, if not more. But his father hadn’t been trying to make money; he had simply wanted to be rid of the apartment he no longer used, because he was rarely on Broadway these days. Larry had believed his mother when she had confided they had genuinely wanted to give him the apartment lock, stock and barrel, but had been extremely wary of his siblings, their older children.

      Quite right too, he thought, shifting his weight in the chair. The buggers would have made a hell of a stink if Dad had done that. Jealousy. He’d always been a target of their insane jealousy because he was the youngest; they considered him the most favoured and spoilt.

      ‘You’re also the best looking of the bunch, and the most talented,’ his mother had frequently reminded him, but he did not agree, felt she was trying to make him feel better. And he had to give his siblings credit where it was due. They were all brilliant in their own way, and good looking to boot. Actors all, except for Miranda.

      ‘The Glorious Vaughans’, they had been dubbed by the press, who dubbed them the first theatrical family in the land: theatrical royalty, in fact. Six brothers and sisters who won all the prizes, took all the bows on both sides of the Atlantic.

      Larry saw Edward in his mind. Tall, slender, blond and green-eyed. He was an elegant and charming man today, with a mind like a whiplash and a tongue to match, but a tantrum-throwing little thug as a child. How cruel Edward had been when he was little … Closing his eyes, Larry drifted with his thoughts, caught up on an old memory from long ago …

      Laurence stood his ground, his feet firmly planted on the gravel driveway, the cheap child’s sword in his right hand, his left hand on his hip. He was seven years old, and proud of his stance. His father had shown him exactly how to stand, and taught him how to fence properly, and so he knew he was the best.

      His twelve-year-old brother Edward unexpectedly jumped forward, startling him, brandishing his own sword, and shouting, ‘I’m coming in for the kill, you knave!’ But Edward merely leapt around on the spot, behaving like a wild circus dog, and looking silly.

      Thrust and parry, thrust and parry, Larry reminded himself, picturing his father’s performance as Caesar in one of his films. Taking a deep breath, he moved forward. Tin met tin in a clash of toy swords, and he immediately jumped back, hastily retreating from Edward, who was well known to be dangerous, and never played by the rules.

      His brother sprang closer to Larry, and suddenly he slashed out, catching Larry on his left arm. ‘You’ve cut me, Edward!’ Larry cried. Much to his surprise and horror, he saw blood spurting through the cotton fabric of the fake chain-mail tunic. ‘You’re not supposed to do that,’ he shrieked, backing away, dropping the sword he was holding, bringing his right hand to his left arm, endeavouring to staunch the flowing blood.

      ‘Coward! Coward!’ Edward shouted, waving his sword over his head, and advancing on Larry, crazily jumping from side to side and laughing wildly. ‘I will defeat you now, you alien dog! Not one of us. Not one of us. Changeling! Darkling! You’re not one of us.’

      Suddenly growing frightened of his brother, Larry picked up his sword, then backed away and tripped, fell down on the gravel, his sword now skittering across the drive. Catching his breath, he tried to push himself to his feet.

      Laughing, enjoying his triumph over the younger boy, Edward zeroed in, knelt down next to Larry and began to pummel him, hitting him on his shoulders, chest and face. ‘No mercy for the enemy. Kill the enemy!’ Edward snarled, a spiteful gleam in his pale eyes.

      Wrapping his arms around his head, Larry attempted to protect his face, whilst still pressing his hand on the sleeve of his bloodsoaked cotton tunic. He tried to move again, to get up, but Edward was much stronger than he was, and held him down, gloating.

      The clattering of high heels running through the hall and down the front steps sent enormous relief rushing through Larry. Their mother’s voice was thunderous as she screamed, ‘Get off him, Edward! Get off him at once! You’re really in for it, my lad.’ She was suddenly looming over Edward, her face furious, and grabbing him by his collar, she unceremoniously yanked him to his feet, shouting into his gaping face, ‘I’ll have your guts for garters, you little bugger!’

      Literally throwing Edward to one side, and looking totally undisturbed as he fell hard on the ground, his mother crouched next to Larry. She was appalled by the amount of blood covering his tunic, and also alarmed. Larry’s face was bruised and bloody where his brother had hit him hard.

      ‘My God! I can’t believe this!’ Pandora exclaimed, and she put her arms under her youngest child and lifted him closer to her, held him for a moment against herself, hurting for him. She said, ‘Do you think you can get up, darling?’

      He nodded.

      Pandora stood and, bending over Larry, she helped him to get to his feet. Slowly they walked across the drive and up the front steps, and Pandora murmured to him lovingly, reassured him he would be all right as they stepped inside the house.

      ‘Mother,’ Edward said from the driveway.

      Pandora glanced over her shoulder. Her face was white with shock, her anger unabated. ‘What?’

      ‘I didn’t mean to hurt—’

      ‘Like hell you didn’t!’ Pandora raged. ‘You’re getting to be a menace. I’ve just about had it with you.’

      ‘But Mother—’

      ‘Shut up. And stay out of my way. I don’t want to see your face. And I will certainly deal with you later, in an appropriate way. It would be wise of you to prepare yourself for harsh punishment.’

      Edward gaped at her, his face now as white as hers, and stricken. He was terrified of his mother when she was angry. None of them knew what she might do when she was in the grip of a monumental fury such as this.

      Turning away from him, Pandora led Larry into the hall, hurrying him down to the kitchen. ‘Molly was a nurse, you know, before she became our housekeeper. She’ll know exactly what to do.’

      ‘I’m all right, Mummy,’ Larry whispered, and stumbled bravely on …

      The crash of the milk falling off the small side table awakened Larry. He must have knocked it off with his arm. He sat up blinking, for a moment disoriented, thinking it was already morning, but then, as he glanced around, realized it was still the middle of the night. Rising, he left the library, returned to his bedroom and got into bed, shaking his head as he did so. How strange it was that such a lot of his childhood memories remained in his head, and were so easily recalled. And lately, remembering them had become a curious pattern.

      Within minutes he was asleep, Edward’s cruelty to him as a child forgotten.

TWELVE

      Geo looked up as M appeared in the doorway of her studio, and smiled. ‘Well, there you are! Good morning, Miss M. How’re you today?’

      ‘Fine, thanks, Geo, and you look pretty good yourself.’

      Geo inclined her