Thursday

by David Ridgway

  She knew that both men were members of the National Front, although they tried to keep their membership well concealed whilst at work. One of them was keen on Pamela and was trying to persuade her to go out with him. He was becoming a bit of a pest. He now started to seethe as he realised that she was already quite friendly with Milton and happy to have a West Indian for a friend.

  For her part, although she had enjoyed her Sunday afternoon with Milton, she did wonder whether Milton would pursue the friendship or whether it might just disappear like early morning mist on a warm summer’s day. His text had given her hope that it wouldn’t.

  “Hi, Milton.” She stood up to greet him. “These are two friends from way back, Carl and Les. Why don’t you join us?”

  Hardly able to contain his rage and disgust, Carl got up and muttered that he was due on shift and, turning their backs on both Pamela and Milton, they both hurriedly left the café.

  “Who were they?” asked Milton. “I recognised Les. Isn’t he the guy who had a bit of a problem a few months back with the police? I can’t remember the details, but I seem to recall that he was suspended for a while.”

  “Yeah,” Pamela was a bit discomfited by this, but she looked straight at him and decided to give a brief but factual account. “He had been at an anti-immigration rally and was arrested for throwing a bottle. As it happens, it wasn’t Les who threw the bottle, but it hit a man on the head and he had to have hospital treatment. Les was reported, because he was wearing his work uniform and he was subjected to a formal investigation. Fortunately, the whole incident was caught on CCTV and this showed that Les was not the guy who had thrown the bottle.”

  “How come he knows you?”

  “Actually, it’s Carl who knows me. He’s been trying to get me to go out with him for months now. Les is just his mate. But Carl isn’t my type at all. He’s hard and demanding – and he’s married. He doesn’t know that I know that so he continues to pester me.”

  “Hang on,” said Milton. “I’ll get a sandwich and a coffee. Do you want another drink?”

  “No thanks. I’m fine.”

  When he returned to the table, Pamela seemed to have relaxed. Milton put his sandwich and coffee on the table and sat down next to her.

  “Thanks for the text.” He looked at her. “It felt really good to get it.”

  “That’s OK.” She looked at him and felt her stomach melt. She was falling for this man so deeply and very quickly.

  “It was the kiss at the end that made it so good.”

  Pamela felt her face flush slightly and she briefly glanced down at the table. Milton reached for her right hand and gently held it in his. She felt the contact quiver up her arm and settle, floating on her liquid stomach. She could think of nothing sensible to say so, instead, she smiled at him with both her mouth and her eyes.

  Milton saw her eyes change to become glittery and bright. She looks so beautiful, he thought. He looked at her hand, held in his, comfortable and relaxed.

  “Most girls I’ve met since my divorce have said that I talk too much. That my interest in history and the stuff that I’ve discovered makes it hard for people to talk to me. I suppose I do hide behind my knowledge and I hope I didn’t bore you on Sunday afternoon.”

  “No, not at all,” she stammered a reply. “As a matter of fact, I thought it was all rather fascinating. Actually, I wish that I knew more.”

  “Well, I know that it’s not everybody’s cup of tea and I have been told that I can rabbit on a bit, when given the chance. You were a bit of a captive audience!”

  As they chatted and enjoyed each other’s company, they were both surprised how comfortable they had become with each other and how relaxed they were. Milton finished his sandwich, still holding Pamela’s hand and then drank his coffee. He looked at his watch.

  “I’ve got to go,” he announced. “I’ve still got a couple of hours before the end of my shift.”

  “I finish at five today,” Pamela replied. “Perhaps we could meet later and I could cook you some tea?”

  “I would really like that.” Milton stood up, still holding Pamela’s hand. “Shall I wait here for you at five?”

  “Good idea. By the way, can I have my hand back please?” She laughed, as Milton looked at her enquiringly, then realised the reason for her question. He bent down and kissed her gently on the cheek.

  “See you later.”

  “Bye.”

  As he left the cafe, Milton saw Les and Carl near the steps to his platform. They had obviously been hanging about outside, waiting for him. As Milton turned to go down to the underground, they followed and as they walked round a sharp corner, Les punched Milton in the left kidney.

  “Oy! If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave my girl alone.” Les pulled Milton’s shoulder so they were facing each other, leaving Carl behind him. The breath had been knocked out of him, but Milton was recovering quickly.

  “She isn’t your girl and never will be,” he replied. He saw in the reflection of an advertisement on the wall, that Carl was about to punch him, so he quickly moved to his left and the right arm jab completely missed. At the same time, he raised the heel of his right hand into Les’ face, aiming for his nose. The punch wasn’t hard enough and Les was able to ride it. Carl grabbed Milton from behind and pinned his arms. Les drew back his right fist and punched Milton hard in the face. Again, he was able move just enough to deflect the full force of the blow, but it damaged his left ear.

  Realising that he had to resolve this attack quickly and with as little damage as possible to himself, Milton, after moving to his right to avoid the punch, now moved back, catching Carl off guard. He raised his right leg and brought his foot down hard on Carl’s instep and ankle. There was a crack and, immediately, Carl shouted painfully and let go. Now free to move, Milton moved swiftly onto his left and with his right foot kicked Les fully and hard in the testicles. He doubled over in pain. Milton looked back at Carl, who was sitting with his back to the tunnel wall, nursing what looked like a sprained ankle.

  “Try that again, you pieces of shit and you will both end up in hospital.” Milton stood up and walked away.

  Crumpled against the wall, Les felt the pain spread through his stomach, as though he was being burnt with acid. His eyes were watering, but his mind was already planning his revenge. He crawled over to Carl.

  “You OK?” he asked.

  “I think that black bastard has broken my ankle.” Carl looked down at his foot which was certainly at an odd angle.

  “Let’s have a look.” Through bouts of nausea, Les picked up Carl’s right foot and tried to move it back to a normal position. “Does that hurt?”

  “Yes, it bloody does!” Carl shouted with the pain.

  “We’ve got to get you up to the surface. Can you stand on the other foot?”

  Slowly, the pain was receding from Les’ groin and he helped Carl to stand on the uninjured foot. With Carl’s left arm over his shoulder and with his right arm around Carl’s waist, Carl was able to lift his right leg and hop painfully on his left. They made slow progress back to the surface where a member of the public called an ambulance.

  After lunch, Sebastian called Andy and the cab was waiting at Le Grove Investments, as he and Michael Varley returned from the restaurant. Sebastian considered that their meeting had been fruitful as Michael had agreed to accelerate the movement of illicit cash through his systems by including both investment proposals for the library in Yorkshire and the Centenary Concerts in Richmond. At first, Sebastian was a little unsure of these ideas as neither appeared to return the capital in a reasonable time, but Michael explained that both should be regarded as long term investments, which would provide an annual income, albeit rather small. In this way, there would be a legitimate annual income for as long as was necessary.

  Michael was thinking that he would have to keep all these transactions well organised within the financial books of Le Grove Investments. So long as there was a paper trail
demonstrating capital received, capital invested, interest accrued and distributed, commission paid and capital repaid, then no one would need to look too deeply at anything else. Michael’s initial reluctance was based on his thoughts that Sebastian’s money might be somewhat grubby, but when Sebastian reminded Michael of his visits to the hotel before Christmas, everything began to fall into place.

  They parted company at the door to Le Grove Investments and Sebastian got into Andy’s cab feeling rather satisfied with the lunch time discussions. The only potential downside was the size of the commission Michael had requested. It was somewhat larger than Sebastian expected. But even that would be worth paying when it became obvious that greater amounts of money could be moved and laundered and that this would make Sebastian even more beneficial to his underworld contacts.

  As he settled into his seat for the return journey to the Gloucester Palace Hotel, he realised that Andy was talking to him.

  “I wonder if I can ask your advice, Mr Fortescue Brown.”

  “Advice about what?”

  “Well, I do a bit of photography work and I’ve met a lady who could really make it big.”

  “Big in what? Pornography?” Sebastian asked.

  “Not necessarily. It’s more her eyes than her body.” Andy struggled to explain that Alice could have a great career as a model, even an actress.

  “I’ve created this portfolio,” he said. “Basically, it’s of the girl modelling different clothes. Actually, she’s more of a lady than a girl. She must be in her mid-20s. I was wondering whether you had any contacts in the advertising industry, where I could try to get some interest in her.”

  “My contacts would probably be more down the pornographic channel,” Sebastian replied. “But I do know couple of people who sometimes place models. I’ll have a word and if anything comes of it, we’ll split any commission 50/50.”

  Andy nearly drove into a Keep Left bollard when he heard that, but he said nothing. As they drove into the carpark at the back of the hotel, Sebastian asked Andy whether he had the portfolio with him. Andy said he had and Sebastian invited him into the office to look at it and to assess the contents.

  He sat down at his desk and switched on his computer. Andy passed over the computer stick which Sebastian plugged in. An array of pictures covered the screen. Sebastian clicked on the first picture of Alice looking somewhat discomfited, shoulders hunched, head down. He immediately recognised her but said nothing. As he scanned through the selected pictures, Sebastian quickly realised that Alice had turned the tables on poor old Andy and by the time he reached the end of the portfolio, it was quite obvious that Alice was now fully in control of her own destiny. Now she was only using Andy, who had lost all hope of ever regaining his superiority over her.

  “When did you take these?”

  “Over Saturday and Sunday.”

  “How many have you rejected?”

  “About half, I guess.”

  “Do you have any others that you’ve kept back for your own purposes?”

  “Just a few. About a dozen.”

  “I presume they are rather more…” Sebastian hesitated. “Interesting?”

  Andy grinned. “Well, yes, I suppose they are.”

  “Do you have them here?”

  “No.”

  “Have you shown these to…” again Sebastian hesitated, “the young lady?”

  “Not all of them. I’ve explained that I am the copyright owner of the pictures and she seemed to understand that. She’s already got a copy of the selected pictures from our first session on Saturday.”

  “How did you meet her?”

  “She used my cab on the bloody awful day last Thursday when it was raining like hell. We chatted on the way to Waterloo and I gave her my card. I was really surprised when she phoned me on Saturday morning.”

  I bet you were, thought Sebastian. He looked again at the pictures on the computer. Without telling Andy he had saved the whole portfolio to his Pictures file before closing down the computer. He gave the stick back to Andy.

  “I’ll make a couple of enquiries for you, but I’m making no promises.”

  “That’s really good of you,” Andy replied. “Anyway, I’d better get going.” He walked to the door. “So, I’ll be hearing from you, soon?” Sebastian just nodded.

  And with that, Andy left Sebastian’s office, went down the staircase to the basement and the back door.

  In the city, Michael called his mother-in-law in Huddersfield.

  “I think I might have a proposition which could be a resolution to your financial problem with the library,” he said after they had exchanged the usual pleasantries. “I have a client who is wanting to invest in property over, maybe, a 20-year period. You will retain ownership of the building, but he will become a financial partner. Although you will both have responsibilities for maintenance and upkeep, he will expect you to deal with all that. You will pay him an agreed monthly amount, until the capital has been fully repaid.”

  “Will there be any interest to pay?” Christine wondered what she had done to get such news which seemed like a miracle from heaven.

  “Of course there will,” Michael replied. “I’ll draw up a schedule which will show you what the monthly payments will be. Everything will now depend on the amount you need, how much you can afford to repay and how long you want the arrangement to last.”

  “Well, you’ve rather taken by breath away, Michael. How soon do you want your answers?”

  “I do realise that this may well have come as a bit of a shock, but I rather feel that my client will want everything resolved by the end of next week.”

  “Initially, we’ll be looking for about £50,000. Is that too much?”

  “No. That should be absolutely fine.”

  After further conversation about the family, Michael put down the phone and called for Alice to come in. He dictated to her the broad outline of the contract and asked that it should be ready to be sent to Mr Fortescue Brown the following day.

  Michael now phoned his wife, Sarah.

  “Hi, Sarah.”

  “Hello, Michael. What do you want?”

  “I seem to recall that you were telling me that you were having difficulties in raising the necessary funds for the centenary concerts.”

  “That’s right. We are.”

  “How much are you needing to raise and how much have you got so far?”

  “We’ll need £10,000 and we already been promised £2,500. I know it’s only small beer compared to the amounts you normally talk about, but it’s vital for us.”

  “If I was able to inject £5,000 straightaway, would that help at all?”

  “Enormously. But can you do that?”

  “I’ve got a new client who is looking to put some money towards ‘Good Causes’ and I immediately thought of you.”

  “What will he want in return?”

  “Can you give him some sort of prominence for a concert? Maybe, he could be named as a sponsor? Something like that.”

  “That would be easy and we could throw in four complimentary tickets as well.”

  “OK. I’ll sort all that out with him. By the way, don’t forget, I’ll be staying up in town tomorrow night. Before the meeting and my speech on Thursday morning.”

  “Yes. I remember.”

  After school, David firstly went home where he changed out of his school uniform into denims, T shirt and sweater and his new pair of trainers. Making sure he had enough money, he set off for Richmond town centre to meet Jackie. He reached the café at half past five, fully realising that he was early by at least half an hour.

  As it happens, Jackie had skipped her last lesson and was home early enough to get ready and arrive in Richmond town centre by five o’clock. She had spent the extra time looking at the shops and boutiques, generally wasting time but actually buying nothing. She made her way to the Costa Coffee where she arrived at just after six o’clock. As she went through the door, she didn’t see David, who was
sitting at the back of the café.

  He had seen her come through the door, dressed in a mini kilt, knee length socks, a tight low-cut top and her sheepskin coat. Her long dark wavy hair was slightly damp from the drizzly rain and, as she scanned the café menu more carefully, she placed a loose lock of hair behind her right ear. She saw David with his hand raised in greeting. He was walking towards the counter.

  “Hi.” He put his hand on her arm. “What can I get you?” She kissed him quickly on the cheek and looked up at the board behind the counter. “Can I have a de caff skinny latte, please?” she asked.

  The barista, having heard the request, started its preparation, as Jackie went to David’s table and sat down. After paying, David followed with her drink and a second cappuccino for himself.

  “Thanks for coming.” All of a sudden, he felt quite tongue tied.

  “That’s OK.” Jackie slipped off her coat, letting it hang over the back of her chair. As she eased it over her shoulders, she pointed both arms towards the floor, leant slightly forward, arching her lower back. It was quite obvious that she had, once again, come out without her bra.

  “You look fabulous!” David murmured, entranced with the vision before him.

  “Thanks.” She looked at him through her long eye lashes, seeing a good-looking young man with broad shoulders, smiling eyes and an honest, trustworthy face. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  He started to chuckle. She looked at him quizzically. “What’s so funny?”

  “Well, I was just thinking that the last time we met, we were like two very old friends and now, we are stuttering over our conversation, as though we’ve never met before.”

  She giggled. “You’re right.” And with the ice broken they both started talking at once, happy and comfortable together. There were only a few customers in the café and David had selected a very discreet table, away from prying eyes.

  “I didn’t realise that you had decided to come to the rugby last Saturday just to fuck me,” he said.

  “I thought I’d give you a nice surprise.”