Chain Reaction by Gillian White Page A

lost his ability to judge other people, surrounding himself with scroungers and flatterers who were clearly only after what they could get. He was into compulsive spending. A crack-head now, like the rest of them, it was up to Belle to protect him; he’d never have lasted so long without her to bail him out of scrape after scrape. In the last small disaster Jacy had flown over the heads of his financial advisers as usual and allowed his name to be used by some textile company in exchange for a massive sum. They were later revealed to be part of an unscrupulous child-slave racket, and to keep his name out of the limelight cost him thousands. Belle hung on in there, reserved and careful, answering his calls when he was in no condition to do so, reassuring him always by making out she was softer and simpler than she was.
    Jacy was a gambler, too. He loved the horses and the roulette tables.
    And so it went on… and on… He studiously ignored all the warnings.
    Curt snapped his fingers and said, ‘We’ve got to talk, Jacy.’
    But Jacy waved a disinterested hand.
    ‘And I mean soon, son.’
    ‘Don’t call me son, Fatman, I don’t need this hassle.’
    Success and acclaim were not enough for him any more. Spoiled rotten, it seemed that Jacy needed to push to the outer limits in order to feel anything at all. He ignored Curt altogether, still believing the guy wouldn’t dare upset the lead singer of Sugarshack. No matter how big or influential, no agency could risk losing a hot property like them.
    Curt groaned. Knowing otherwise.
    When Belle tried to warn Jacy, he would curse and swear and glare at her. He was looking awful these days; the pace of life was telling on his beauty. ‘And you, don’t be so judgmental. Get a life, why don’t you? The earth could blow up tomorrow; we could all die on the nearest freeway.’
    It featured in a magazine and Belle fell in love with it at once.
    It was Belle who persuaded him to buy the Grange. Property prices were still rising and it seemed you couldn’t go wrong with an investment like that. She loved the permanent look of the place, the sunny rooms and the elegance. She could see it filled with baking smells, children, dogs, everybody home. Dream on. Carefully, as only she could, she steered Jacy away from the ranch in Texas, the partnership in the Vegas casino, the Hydro complex in California and the cable station in Virginia.
    Mostly she just listened to him with a passionate, honed attention and gave him whatever he seemed to want. He had got to thinking she would put up with anything regardless. But this time she ventured much further, into what could have been dangerous waters. She broached the subject with some apprehension. ‘What you really need is a base, somewhere you could go to recharge your batteries every so often, somewhere which is just yours and yours alone.’
    ‘Stables…’
    Belle nodded wearily but she must follow his lead. ‘Well yes, stables certainly, if that’s what you think.’
    ‘Honey, I could turn the place into the best goddamn racing stables…’
    ‘Of course you could, Jacy. Of course you could.’
    ‘I could hire interior decorators, dump most of the crap.’
    It took time, but Belle was quietly persistent and finally got him back home for a week and it wasn’t long after that that the bid for the Grange was accepted and of course the press, the local press in particular, were in their element, interviewing all the old crusties who had lived around Dunsop all their lives.
    Even in those days Belle rarely read the papers and in this particular case the quotes were so predictable as they clicked and clacked their sour disapproval:
    ‘It’ll be AIDS next, mark my words.’
    ‘It’s all those raves that worry me.’
    ‘The drugs, think of the effect of those drugs on our local youngsters.’
    ‘How sad that a grand house like the Grange has ended up in such circumstances. He’ll ruin it, a man like that. He will ruin that poor