by A. L. Lester
Taking Stock
By A.L. Lester
Published by JMS Books LLC
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Copyright 2020 A.L. Lester
ISBN 9781646564842
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
* * * *
To my Mama, who keeps on keeping on despite her stroke; and to Gary, who was cheerfully tolerant in response to my repetitive questions about the London Stock Exchange and even drew me some diagrams.
* * * *
Taking Stock
By A.L. Lester
Chapter 1: Betrayal
Chapter 2: Fraud
Chapter 3: Arrest
Chapter 4: Cottage
Chapter 5: Incident
Chapter 6: Realisation
Chapter 7: Girl
Chapter 8: Sally
Chapter 9: Meeting
Chapter 10: Visiting
Chapter 11: Neighbourly
Chapter 12: Cat
Chapter 13: Accounts
Chapter 14: Pool
Chapter 15: Shearing
Chapter 16: London
Chapter 17: Sex
Chapter 18: Boss
Chapter 19: Father
Chapter 20: Argument
Epilogue
Chapter 1: Betrayal
September, 1971
“What?” Phil said. “You thought I wouldn’t mind?” He swallowed roughly. “We’ve been together for over a year, Richard. There’s some expectation of loyalty comes with that. I would have thought.” He looked at the younger man stood in the center of his cream living room carpet. “Or perhaps not.”
Richard didn’t even have the grace to look ashamed. “It wasn’t anything, Phil. You’re being stupid. I sucked him off, that was all.” He didn’t even blush. He looked irritated, if anything. “You’re being very unreasonable.”
“You’ve been living here for nearly twelve months. You didn’t think that the assumption would be of monogamy?”
Richard made a dismissive huffing noise and shrugged. “That’s not how it’s done, Phil my dear. Not these days. You’re delightfully old fashioned in some ways, but you’re being very stick in the mud about this.”
Phil shut his eyes for a moment. “It’s not the first time then?”
Richard waved his hand in a dramatic gesture, the tight sleeve of his orange and brown striped shirt flexing along with it. “Leave it, won’t you. It’s not important.”
“Not important to you? Or not important to me? Because I assure you I think it’s important. It’s very important. Richard.” He swallowed. “I…I’ve come to care for you.”
Richard raised an eyebrow. “My dear Phil. Is this a declaration? How thrilling! Do go on.”
Phil said nothing. Clearly he had been barking up the wrong tree. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers and turned away to look out of the inverted arched window at the lake. There were some ducks shagging enthusiastically on the edge of his view. More than what’s going on in here, he thought, dismally. No more shagging for me.
Richard had joined the firm eighteen months ago as a junior in Phil’s department and had quickly made his interest in Phil clear. Oh, he was discreet at work…the rough and tumble of the trading floor wasn’t tolerant of anyone who didn’t follow the public-school rugger-bugger stereotype. He’d made it clear that he was interested in Phil though. Phil’s friend Peter had pointed it out to him first. Phil was usually a bit slow on the uptake.
“You want to watch that one,” he’d said one evening as they were sat, backs to the bar, watching the younger traders horse around at a table on the other side of the room. “He’s trouble. And he likes you.”
Phil looked at him. “He likes me? What do you mean?”
Peter glanced at him. “You know what I mean. He likes you. Didn’t you notice him flirting when he came up to get his round in? You could take him home tonight if you wanted to.” He took a swig of his beer. “Bet he sucks cock like a Hoover,” he said wistfully.
“You take him home if you feel like that about him,” Phil said, slightly acerbically. He could never tell when someone was coming on to him.
“Nah mate, I’ve got enough on my hands already.” He nodded toward one of the other young men at the same table. “Hips like a snake. And he knows how to use ‘em.”
Phil blushed. Peter was a lot more open about his partners than he was and always had been, even before the change in the law. Phil was never going to out himself to anyone other than his closest friends.
The next time Richard came up to the bar, Phil returned his smile. “Let me buy you a drink?” he asked.
“Sure,” the younger man replied.
And that was that. A few weeks later he had moved into Phil’s spacious flat in the middle of the city and he’d been here ever since. Apparently using it as a base to bring blokes to suck off on his days off while Phil was at work.
Not good.
“I’d like you to leave,” Phil said, turning back toward him. “Pack a suitcase. You can come back for the rest of your things another day.”
“What?! Are you serious?” Richard’s voice rose in both pitch and volume. “Phil, darling, it really didn’t mean anything! It’s you I want to be with!”
“But I don’t want to be with you. You’ve been lying to me and you’ve been bringing people I don’t know here for sex behind my back. I can’t live like that.”
“I’ll stop! I promise!” Richard’s voice was tearful.
“Rich. Please. Don’t…make this any harder than it is.” Phil turned away again. The ducks were still shagging. It looked like the lady duck was drowning. “Please just go. And leave me your key. You can stay with Peter or someone tonight; you’ve got lots of friends. I just…can’t.” His heart hurt. Richard’s sobbing cut him to the quick.
“You bastard!” Richard spat out. “I didn’t have to move in here with you, you know! It was you who asked me!”
“And now I’m asking you to move out.” Phil folded his arms. He was having trouble holding on to his composure. “I’ll ring Peter now and ask him if you can stay there tonight. He’s got a spare room.”
He moved out to the hallway and picked up the telephone. “You can pack some clothes while I do it.”
And that was that. Just over a year of unwedded bliss destroyed by another man’s underpants left in the bathroom.
Chapter 2: Fraud
Going back to work on the Tuesday after Easter was hard. Peter had been stalwart. He’d come and helped Richard move all this things out the previous day while Phil went to visit his Aunt Mary as he usually did on bank holidays, and he’d said that Richard co
uld stay with him while he sorted himself out.
Phil wished it was as easy as that. He felt dreadful. He’d gone out to dinner with Percy and Adrian when he got back from Aunt Mary’s and opened his heart to them. He’d known Adrian since school and he and Percy were a couple.
“That’s youngsters for you,” Percy said, glumly. “Can’t keep it in their trousers. Not like us old married chaps.”
Adrian threw a cube of sugar at him across the restaurant table. “I remember a time not all that long ago when you couldn’t keep it in your trousers,” he said.
“Not after I hitched up with you!” Percy said, affronted. “I mean. I know people do. But it just seems like a good way for everyone to find out and for you to lose your job. I know they say you can’t get arrested any more…but I don’t want work to find out, thank you very much.”
Percy taught sciences at one of the local schools.
“It’s not that part that bothers me,” Phil said. “I’ve had my fair share of those sorts of encounters. It’s that I thought we were being faithful. And he brought people to the flat.” He knew the horror in his voice was evident. He loathed people who weren’t close friends in his space. It had been a mark of his infatuation with Richard that he had invited him to stay.
It had been a perfect storm for poor Richard a few weeks after they’d met. He’d to move out of his digs after some drama with his landlady and a miniature poodle that Phil hadn’t felt the need to fully investigate. He’d already been spending nearly every night at Phil’s Barbican place and it had seemed the right thing to do for Phil to offer to put him up until he got a new place. And Richard had just…never left.
“I feel such a fool,” he said, taking a mouthful of his cabernet sauvignon. “I’m looking back over it all now and wondering how often he was doing it. I’m away quite a bit. He’d have had the opportunity. And he didn’t seem to think it was a problem until I asked him to leave.”
Adrian patted his hand comfortably. “Don’t worry about it, old thing,” he said. “He’s a very plausible young chap. I don’t think you have anything to reproach yourself for. He seemed like he was really keen on you. I never saw him looking at any one else when we were with you. And even the once or twice he was there and you weren’t he didn’t make eyes at anyone.”
“Knew which side his bread was buttered,” Percy muttered and then flinched as Adrian indiscreetly kicked him under the table. “Sorry,” he said. “I never really liked him. He did come on to me once, sometime last Christmas. It wasn’t anything overt. Just a general feeling that I’d be welcome to…well. Welcome to whatever.”
Phil pulled a face. “Not that you’re not a very attractive bloke, Percy, but why would someone do that? To a friend of your boyfriend, I mean.”
“No idea. I could have been mistaken. He was quite subtle. Might just have been flirting and I misinterpreted. I was quite drunk.” He looked ruefully into his empty glass of wine. “Unlike now.”
“School tomorrow,” Adrian reminded him. “Coffee instead?”
“Yes, please.”
* * * *
Phil got through the next week with sheer grit and determination. He arrived as usual at six in the morning and stayed until his regular eight at night. He went out for drinks after work three times and on Saturday he cleaned the flat from top to bottom despite his cleaning lady already having been through it as thoroughly as she usually did. He found four of Richard’s ties mixed with his in the wardrobe and a book on party locations on the French coast that he took pleasure in putting in the bin.
By the following Monday he felt that he’d regained some of his equilibrium, despite spending part of nearly every day listening out for Richard’s voice in the main office. He’d never been Richard’s direct supervisor, but they worked in the same area and Richard was a junior member of the same team.
The office was quiet when he got in. He didn’t pick up on the fact that there was anything wrong until his boss, Reginald Portnoy, put his head around his door shortly after the floor opened.
“McManus old chap, could I have a word in my office?”
“Of course, sir, I’ll be right there.”
Portnoy was standing by the window overlooking the square, fidgeting with his pipe, when Phil tapped on the open door and went in.
“The thing is, McManus, there’s been complaint.” He went straight for the throat as he turned. Phil felt his breath catch.
“What?” he said, intelligently.
“A complaint. About you.”
“A complaint?” Phil felt a bit faint. He grabbed at the back of the chair in front of him.
Portnoy gave him an assessing look, pipe in hand. “Sit down,” he said, finally, gesturing to the chair in front of the desk. He watched Phil with shrewd eyes for a moment and then went to take his own seat behind it.
“Beckett’s made an allegation of impropriety,” he said.
Phil felt his jaw drop to the floor. “He what?” His voice was explosive. “What sort of impropriety?”
Portnoy was suddenly very busy pushing Dunhill Dark Flake into the bowl of his pipe.
“Financial, old boy,” he said, not meeting Phil’s eye. “Only financial.”
Oh. Portnoy knew about him then.
“He took it over my head,” Portnoy said. “I’ve been in meetings about it all weekend. They,” he gestured over his head to the floor above where the Board had their offices, “want a full investigation. He’s told them he suspects you’ve been fiddling the books.”
Phil felt his face go from pale to red with fury. “He what?!” He did raise his voice this time. “Fiddling the books?!”
“Well quite. That was my reaction too. I know you’re honest as the day is long, old boy, but they want me to go through all your trades for the last few months and double-check them for short-selling with tips you shouldn’t have had.” He struck a match and started trying to get his pipe to draw. “They don’t want to involve the police if they can avoid it, obviously, although the little shit was threatening to go to them himself if they didn’t act.”
Phil drew in a deep and steadying breath.
“Right,” he said. “Right. No police. Well, I suppose that’s something.” He dragged a hand over his face.
“Only if we don’t find anything, of course.” Portnoy looked up from his pipe and met Phil’s eye. “Which we won’t, will we, McManus?”
“No sir. I swear.”
“Good.”
“I can’t believe…” Phil trailed off.
“Me either. You’ve not been very sensible, old chap. People have noticed. Well, I’ve noticed. And if I’ve noticed…I never notice anything; I make a point of it usually. But I did.” He coughed. “Well, anyway. Salutatory lesson, I suppose.”
“Yes sir. Indeed. Er….” Phil could feel his blush disappearing into his hairline. He was furious and embarrassed now.
“They want you out of the building until I’ve done the audit. Now please. It’ll be a week or two, I expect. Take a holiday. Go birdwatching. Visit your mother. Don’t worry about it. He’s making trouble and the little shit will get what he deserves when the evidence comes back straight as houses.”
Phil swallowed as he stood up. “Very good, sir. What shall I do with my ongoing work?”
“I’m bringing Peter Norman over to the team to help with it and assist with the audit. He’ll pick up easily enough.”
Phil nodded. “Yes sir.” That was a relief. Peter would sort it out.
* * * *
Peter was already in his office when Phil opened the door. He was sitting on the edge of the desk, smoking. “Sorry, Phil,” he said. “I didn’t know until this morning. He called me in first.”
Phil shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. There’s nothing to find.” He dug his briefcase out from under the desk and started putting his coat on. There wasn’t anything else to take home, he didn’t keep anything personal here. “Is that bastard out there?” He nodded toward to big office
he’d have to walk through to get to the exit.
“Yes. He’s still staying with me. He doesn’t have anywhere else to go.” Peter looked at his feet, a bit shamefaced. “I don’t want to throw him out on the street.”
“No, of course not. Can’t he stay with Kevin or Jimmy?”
“Apparently not.” Peter cleared his throat. “Portnoy said I’m to escort you out so there’s no trouble.”
Phil grimaced. “He’s not worth it, the little sod.”
The room was silent as he and Peter walked through. Richard was watching from his desk, his eyes glittering with spite. Phil looked back steadily. “See you all in a couple of weeks,” he said with a smile, to break the tension.
There were murmured assents and farewells.
“I’ll keep you posted,” Peter said at the door to the corridor. “I’m not allowed to talk to you in detail about the audit. But I’ll come round tonight. We can have a drink.”
Phil shook his head. “I’d rather you didn’t, if that’s all right with you. I need a few days to wallow in it, I think. Next weekend, maybe? And perhaps it’ll all be done by then.”
Peter nodded. “I’ll phone. Enjoy the time off.” His smile was part grimace, as was Phil’s returning one.
“Yes, I’ll do that.”
* * * *
It wasn’t as easy as that, of course. He puttered uneasily round the flat for the rest of the day, unable to settle, alternating between fury and despair. And a kind of grief for himself. He’d begun to put his heart in Richard’s hands and Richard clearly a) didn’t return that and b) wasn’t the person Phil had thought he was.
He ended up sat on Adrian and Percy’s doorstep waiting for them to get home from work. Percy arrived first, juggling a load of exercise books and his briefcase. “What’s happened?” he said, in lieu of greeting.
“I’ve been an idiot, that’s what’s happened. And Richard is a bastard.” Phil ground out the Embassy Light he’d been listlessly smoking and brushed the dust off his trousers as he stood up.
“Come in. I’ll put the kettle on.”
“Thanks, Perce.”