EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY
‘Miserable weather,’
Ted complained, staring wistfully through the French windows. ‘Considering it’s
almost July.’
Donald, who was sprawled on the sofa, leafing through an antique furniture
catalogue, chuckled. ‘You put the mockers on it when you decided to have your
annual leave. And where have we picked to go on holiday next week?’
Ted watched the rain streaking down the window panes. ‘The Lake District,’ he muttered miserably. ‘I knew we should have
stayed at home and gone to see a lot of shows. I’d sooner be in a cosy theatre
watching Othello than tramping across
a muddy field, getting soaked to the skin.’
Donald flicked a page rapidly with irritation. ‘Well, the Lake District was someone’s idea standing not a million miles from
here. And anyway, we can go to the Globe Theatre to see the production when we
get back.’
‘I’ll probably have to do a load of overtime by then.’.
Donald slammed the catalogue shut and dropped it onto the coffee table. ‘Oh for
God’s sakes! I know what’s getting to you. It’s that wife of yours, not
allowing you to see your daughter as often as you’d like.’
‘Hardly at all.’
Donald drew in a breath and spoke with determined patience. ‘Which is why
you’re going to see the solicitor...’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Very shortly.’
‘I’m going to get soaked,’ Ted grumbled.
Donald laughed. ‘It’ll prepare you for the trip to the Lake District.’
Ignoring his friend, Ted went out into the hall and grabbed his raincoat.
Donald followed him to the door a moment later, a glint in his eye, which Ted
recognised as the precursor of one of his jokes.
‘What did you say this solicitor’s name is?’
‘Ted Dorling,’ Ted replied, waiting for the inevitable.
‘Well,’ Donald said, ‘you know what they say?’
‘What?’ Ted asked, dutifully feeding him and waiting for the punch-line.
‘Two Teds are better than one.’
*
Vanessa looked out at the bedraggled view across Tunbridge Wells Common,
wishing things were different. If only Paul lived in the real world, and had a
proper job working for a steady wage, instead of...
She jumped as he slid his arms round her, and his expensive after-shave tickled
her nostrils. He nestled close to her and pressed his cheek against hers. She
wriggled free and turned to face him. He
was wearing his best, expensive Boss suit.
‘Where are you off to?’ she demanded.
He grinned confidently. ‘Got an important meeting.’
Her brow furrowed. ‘Who with?’
He tapped the side of his nose. ‘The money people.’
What money people?’
‘It’s the gangster movie. Things are starting to happen. Wheels are starting to
turn. We’ll soon be in clover, baby.’
Vanessa laughed humourlessly, her eyes icy cold. ‘You sound...pathetic.’
It was Paul’s turn to frown.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It means you sound like that song they use in the car advert.’
His frown deepened. ‘I’m not with you.’
‘“The Great Pretender”.
His voice low and gentle, as if talking to a child: ‘This is for real, babe.
This is happening.’
‘So who exactly are you seeing? Can you be more specific?’
‘You wouldn’t know them.’
‘I’d still like you to tell me.’
Paul sighed as if she was trying his patience. ‘Okay. If you must know, it’s a
guy called Martin Dodds, and his business partner Joe Caligula.’
‘Joe Caligula! Like the Roman emperor?’
Paul nodded and grinned, and Vanessa couldn’t help feeling he was humouring
her. Then a thought struck her.
‘He’s not Italian by an chance?’
Paul shrugged hugely. ‘He may have been at some stage, but...well, he doesn’t
sound it. More East End, if anything.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I need to get my arse into gear.’
Vanessa put a hand on his sleeve. ‘Just a minute, Paul: these people...are they
above board?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I mean,’ she stressed, ‘are they legitimate business people? Or are they a
couple of crooks?’
His voice rose an octave. ‘Crooks! What makes you think they might be crooks?’
‘His name for a start.’
‘He can’t help his name.’
‘It sounds like something out of a gangster film. Mafia.’
Paul laughed, showing her how ridiculously far-fetched her suggestion was. But
behind his eyes, she saw some sort of defence mechanism was at work, and she
knew she’d hit a nerve.
‘I’ve just had an idea,’ she said. ‘And it won’t take me long to get changed.’
Paul made a nervy gesture with his hand. ‘Get changed? What for?’
‘I’m going to come with you.’
‘You can’t do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘You just can’t. This is a business meeting to raise money.’
‘And I’m your partner, and soon to be the mother of your child.’ She saw he was
about to protest, so she continued hurriedly: ‘And I know a bit about filming.’
‘You never told me that.’
‘The course I did at West Kent College...’ she began.
‘I thought that was photography,’ he broke in.
‘We also did a bit of movie camera stuff.’
He gestured palms up, and gave her a sneering expression. ‘Yeah but
West Kent College...’ He laughed disparagingly. ‘Come on, babe. That is
a joke.’
Her lips tightened with grim determination. ‘I know about camera work. So I can
be quite useful at this meeting. Don’t stop me, Paul. I’m definitely coming
with you. And it won’t take me a minute to get changed.’
She hurried into the bedroom and flung open the wardrobe doors. She selected one of her best flowery dresses,
the one she still had a chance of enhancing her figure with before the
pregnancy started to show. She scrabbled
through her jewellery box, searching for the silver and amethyst earrings Paul
had bought her for her birthday. In the
rush, her fingers became clumsy, and she had difficulty inserting them, losing
valuable time. She was out of breath as
she raced against the time it took her to select a pair of shoes and quickly
transfer her bits and pieces from one handbag to another. She hurriedly smeared lipstick onto her lips,
stared at herself in the mirror for a brief moment, satisfied that she looked
the part of a film producer’s partner – that’s if he was telling her the truth
– and dashed back into the living room.
‘Paul?’
Silence.
She called him again. There was no reply. Just the sound of the refrigerator
humming in the silence of the kitchen. She crossed to the window, and saw
Paul’s car, brake-lights glowing as it braked sharply before turning into
Mount Ephraim and vanishing along the road towards High Brooms,
where he usually parked the car when he went to London.
The bird had flown, and Vanessa cursed just before the tears came.
IN EPISODE 151
Ivor shows off his bedroom photographs from Thailand.