by D J Harrison
47
Hector Brighouse is a big man, corporately important and corpulently large. If I put Mick on the scales opposite Mr Brighouse it would be a close run thing, and Mick is enormous. The effect of Hector’s size is modified by the immaculate suit he is wearing, designed to make the best of his large frame and doing an excellent job. He looks imposing, rather than flabby, a man of stature. Atop that thick neck is the bespectacled face of a choirboy, if a rather well-fed one. His eyes hold me in a supplicant gaze as if he is begging for morsels at my table. As the table is in the French Restaurant at the Midland Hotel and I am his guest, the impression is a bit misleading.
‘So glad you could make it.’ The chairman of SG half rises to greet me and grasps my hand firmly. ‘This is Arthur Wilkinson, Group Finance Director, and Jim you know of course.’
I ought to know Jim Almond, he’s been working for me long enough. The way Hector phrases his introduction niggles at me, makes me wonder if anyone told him Jim has left Security Group. The wine waiter is already hovering at Hector’s side.
‘Do you like red wine?’ Hector addresses me.
‘Yes,’ I answer, wondering if I should tell him the name of my favourite Rioja.
‘What have you got for me?’ Hector turns to the waiter who waves his hand to beckon two others, one carrying a decanter containing wine, the other an empty bottle and a cork.
‘Gevrey Chambertin, Almond Leusiex 2005. I took the liberty of decanting a bottle this morning, I’m sure you will like it.’
Hector sniffs the proffered cork then sips at a sample dribbled into his glass.
‘Very nice,’ he pronounces, ‘you may pour. We will certainly be requiring another bottle. If you haven’t done so already, please decant it immediately.’
The wine is nice, not up to Rioja Grand Reserva standard, but drinkable. I don’t intend to drink very much of it, coping with these men won’t be made easier by my guzzling wine, however much I feel tempted. It’s been a hard day, a difficult week, a horrendous month, but alcohol won’t improve my life, only make it even more challenging.
Tonight I need to pluck up the courage to confront Alex. It’s long overdue. I keep skating around the subject of his wife and children. I have the feeling I won’t like the answers to the questions I need to ask. There is also the delicate subject of me. How much of me I reveal, what Alex can be trusted with. I feel nervous. Does he already know all about me? Is he waiting for me to tell him?
The three men are looking over their menus at me. A waiter is poised to take my order.
‘You all go first,’ I say, ‘I haven’t decided.’ As they order, I try to find something I like that won’t take too much concentration. I don’t want to be spitting out fish bones or dissecting some small bird. ‘Scallops,’ I say, ‘then the beef.’
Hector begins to ask impersonal questions in a gentle, avuncular way.
‘Where did you go to school, Jenny?’ he asks.
‘Parklands,’ I say. He wrinkles his brow. ‘In Chorley,’ I add.
‘Ah,’ he says, obviously none the wiser. ‘And your father, what does he do?’
‘I have no idea,’ I admit. ‘He left when I was six years old. Where he is now and what he might be doing I don’t know and I really don’t care.’
Hector takes my brusque rebuff on his plushy chin and perseveres. ‘I am told you started your career as an accountant, is that right?’
‘Yes.’
‘What attracted you to the security industry, why did you make the switch?’
‘It was a challenge,’ I say, leaving out the fact that I was destitute, recently out of prison and Gary saved my life when he gave me a job.
‘A challenge you have responded to magnificently,’ Hector smiles. ‘You’ve transformed GOD Security into a very good business.’
‘You own all the shares, don’t you Jenny?’ Arthur asks. He is mid-fifties, probably ten years Hector’s junior. He has a deep Scottish voice and a friendly smile.
‘That’s the way Gary set the business up,’ I explain, ‘but it’s really still his business, or rather his widow’s.
‘Yes but you run it, you call the shots as it were.’
‘Doreen O’Donnell relies on me for her livelihood if that’s what you mean.’
‘But if the business were to be sold, it would be you who made the decision?’
A wave of excitement makes me pause mid-scallop, almost making me choke and justifying my choice of easy eating. Something more substantial might have stuck in my gullet and asphyxiated me. It never occurred that they might want to buy the business. I expected something along the lines of them offering some loose agreement not to compete amid a wealth of thinly veiled threats.
GOD has been treading hard on SG’s toes lately. I have aggressively priced them out of several big jobs in an attempt to cover the loss of Trafford Trailers. As it happens, I had a call from them this only morning and we’re back in there from next week. There’s a new man in charge of our contract and I get the feeling that he doesn’t like the way that SG are working and needs things to go back to how they were before Alan’s death.
‘All the business decisions are mine, Jim will have told you that.’
Jim nods and makes a thin smile, as if uncertain of his role in all this. He needn’t be. If SG want to buy GOD, Jim has to be helping them put a deal together. He’s only looking after his own interests. If the sale goes through he’ll be back with his old employers.
‘That’s what we thought,’ Hector says. ‘Have you ever considered selling GOD Security, Jenny?’
No, but I should have. Ever since I discovered the tainted origins of O’Brian’s money the other week, I’ve wrestled with my desire to get as far away from the business as possible. All that stops me is Doreen and the debt I owe to Gary and his family. Now I’m being offered a way out that would leave her financially secure and let me get on with my life with Toby, away from the constant threat of prosecution and imprisonment. My heart is beating loudly, the prospect of escape is so enticing I can hardly restrain myself.
‘No,’ I reply. ‘The situation has never arisen. GOD Security isn’t for sale. It provides livelihoods for its employees and financial stability for Gary’s family.’
‘What if those things could be maintained, where would you stand, Jenny?’ Hector asks.
‘As far away as I can,’ I laugh. ‘I’m sure I could find something to keep me busy.’
‘Good,’ Hector smiles. ‘So you won’t be insulted if we make you an offer?’
‘It depends on the offer.’ I smile, hoping my desperation can’t be detected.
Arthur leans forward. ‘I think you’ll agree that as the largest security provider in the UK we should know the value of a similar business. We have to be realistic, you understand, we have a policy of rapid expansion but not at the cost of profitability.’
‘Look, Arthur,’ I give him the hardest, least-bothered stare I can manage. ‘You are buying, I’m not even on the market. Be careful how much you’re offering. I’m hungry and don’t want to have to leave the table before I’ve eaten my main course.’
Hector laughs too loudly then continues to guffaw at Arthur’s discomfort. Jim sits meekly in the middle of them, po-faced.
‘Jenny, you have done a great job putting GOD where it is today. Let us take it from here. As part of SG your employees will have better conditions and more job security. Doreen O’Donnell will have her income guaranteed and you will be able to seek new pastures with a tidy sum in your pocket to finance whatever opportunities might attract you,’ Hector says. ‘Now eat your lunch and let us get back to you with some suggestions. No need to rush into things on an empty stomach.’
As if on cue the main courses arrive. Mine turns out to be a fillet steak with a lobster crammed onto the same plate. I should have read the menu more thoroughly. Hector tucks into his chateaubriand, he seems to have had the same problem. When the waiter asks who is sharing it with him, all he gets is a stony sil
ence.
48
‘Are you okay?’ Alex looks as though he has run up the staircase to my flat. ‘I got your message and came as soon as I could.’
‘I’m fine,’ I purr, and throw my arms around him. We stagger crab-wise to the settee and flop down.
‘You’ve been drinking.’ Alex isn’t asking a question.
‘I certainly have,’ I answer. ‘I’ve drunk about oh, two hundred pounds’ worth of wine, that’s what I’ve done.’
‘That’s a lot of wine.’ Alex grins.
‘No so much as you might think. If you must know, it’s less than a bottle full, so there.’
‘I’ve never seen you like this before,’ Alex says.
‘What, drunk or happy?’
‘Both. Either, if the truth were known, what’s the occasion?’
‘I’ve been to lunch with a very nice man who wants to buy GOD Security. That’s where I’ve been.’
‘And do you want to sell?’ Alex asks.
‘Dammed right I do. The further I get from this smelly place the better. Present company excluded, of course.’ I lean over to kiss him.
‘I really didn’t know you wanted to leave. I thought you were pretty well committed to GOD Security.’
‘Committed? Yes. Want to leave? Also yes. I only stay for Gary and Doreen. I owe them. Without me Doreen would have nothing to live off. Her children and horses would starve.’ I can see Alex needs more explanation so I carry on. ‘Gary saved my life. They were trying to kill me. So that’s why I owe Gary and why I have to look after his family.’
‘Who?’ Alex asks.
‘Gary’s family,’ I repeat.
‘No, who was it trying to kill you?’
‘It’s a long story,’ I say, vaguely realising that I may have said too much, too quickly. I can’t even remember how we got on to the subject.
‘But one I would really like to hear.’ Alex shuffles closer and holds me around my shoulders.
I tell him the tale, sparing only a few gory details.
‘I need a drink,’ I say, feeling desperately thirsty all of a sudden. ‘Water,’ I add to avoid confusion.
The long cold glass of water gives me time to gather my wits, I can’t believe I’ve told him everything in a few quick sentences. He’s still here, that’s the main thing. It may be curiosity that holds him, but at least that’s something.
‘So you’ve been in prison, that must have been hard. Especially with Toby being so young,’ he says.
‘I told you, it wasn’t my fault, none of it was. I made one mistake, that’s all. Trying to make a better life for myself.’
‘You’re amazing,’ Alex smiles. ‘To come through all that and be as positive as you are. That’s real bravery.’
Problem is I seem to be in as much trouble as ever, attracting the wrong sort of attention from the wrong sort of people. That’s a good reason to sell up, get out and take Toby somewhere. The sooner I can get away, the better.
‘You’ve come through it all astonishingly well,’ Alex says, then hesitates. ‘Apart from your ear of course, what happened about that?’
‘It’s healed up into a weird shape, I look like an orc out of Lord of the Rings.’
‘No, that’s not what I meant. Anyway it’s cute, makes you look special.’
‘Special? Like a pirate with one eye and one leg looks special? All I need is a parrot pecking at my ear.’
‘I was only wondering if anything’s happened about the tracker, the address on Seaford Road?’
I’m feeling very tired, Alex’s aliveness is no longer enough to sustain me. I need to close my eyes and rest them for a while. ‘Tell you later,’ I mutter and relax into his arms.
49
It’s a beautiful day with not a cloud in the sky, warm and inviting. Today I miss having a garden, somewhere I can sit amongst greenery and absorb the delights of the season. Alex and I are sitting on a blanket, sharing a flask of tea in the middle of Buile Hill Park. Most of the population of Salford, those, like me, who live in gardenless flats, have the same idea. The women are stretched out on the grass, as naked as they dare to be. The men sit attentively watching over their property and keeping an eye on the competition. The children run and dance and squeal.
‘Why don’t you ever have an orgasm?’ I ask.
Alex looks surprised at my sudden question. I am a tiny bit disappointed he doesn’t look more shocked. Judging by one or two heads twitching locally, my words have reached a wider audience. I don’t care. The warm sun and Alex’s presence make me feel good enough to enjoy a little mischief-making.
‘What?’
‘You heard, you never have an orgasm when we make love. It’s a bit off-putting if I’m honest. It’s like you don’t want to join in with me.’
‘But I do,’ Alex grins. ‘And I am joined in with you, completely, don’t you feel it?’
‘I suppose I do. It’s like you’re there with me, part of me, having my experience, my pleasure. I love it, Alex, don’t get me wrong, you make me feel so amazingly good. It’s only that I’m worried about you. Whether you need something from me that you’re not getting.’
‘All I need is your attention, your presence,’ Alex smiles. ‘And I really do get that most of the time, when your head’s not still at work. Don’t make the mistake of confusing orgasm with ejaculation. It’s not the same thing.’
‘But isn’t that the whole point of it for a man? Don’t men need to ejaculate? I thought that’s what it’s all about for them, that’s why they do it. So why don’t you come like everyone else?’
A stray plastic football bounces past, pursued by a horde of small boys. Alex fields it expertly and returns it into play.
I think of Toby, what he might be up to on this glorious day, whether he wishes his mother were with him. Does he even think about me when I’m not there?
‘Don’t confuse orgasm with the release of semen,’ Alex is speaking in a very low tone, trying to keep this very intimate conversation between the two of us.
I give him great credit that he is persevering, that he meets my impertinence with direct answers, that he is prepared to be honest, even out in the open.
‘Ejaculation isn’t necessary for an orgasm, though I’ll admit most men think it is.’
‘So why not you? Why don’t you squirt like every other man I’ve been with?’
‘Well, there’s lots of reasons. First I believe that it’s important for a woman to be able to trust her lover. If all he wants to do is ejaculate, then she can’t rely on him. His attention should be on her, not getting to his own climax. Second it’s a question of energy. When I release semen, I lose a lot of energy. This takes a long time to build up again. Losing energy like that not only affects my sexual desire, but everything I do. The way I feel about life. The effort I can put into things. How good I feel generally. It’s something I’ve learnt from experience. I have a choice and I know the consequences that choice brings.’
‘What about your wife, is she happy with a man who doesn’t ejaculate?’ I am beginning to like the word ejaculate. It brings up an image for me of exactly what it describes. I also like the effect it has on the casual listeners around us. Every time I say ejaculate or ejaculation they react enough to let me know they’re trying to listen to every word of our very private conversation.
‘My wife,’ Alex says, ‘makes other arrangements that I’m not party to. I have no idea what her current preference might be. We’ve been separated for over three years now. It’s amicable, based on the fact that she’s very happy with her new man and I’m anxious not to lose my access to the girls.’
‘Oh,’ is all I can say without giving away my feelings of exhilaration. He’s free. No, he’s mine. He’s free to be mine. We can be together without complication and guilt. Why didn’t I ask him sooner? I could have avoided all those nights of worry and uncertainty about him, about his intentions. I know why I never asked until now. I thought I wouldn’t be able to cope with the ans
wer, whichever way it went.
‘You think I’ve been cheating on my wife, don’t you?’ Alex smiles. ‘What sort of man does that make me?’
‘If I did, what sort of woman am I?’ I smile back. The moment is gentle, humorous and utterly connected. A bright light is shining into my darkest recesses, the air I breathe is lighter, more life-giving. I put my head in his lap, look up to watch his lips approach, draw him to me. To hell with the audience.
50
It’s cool in the stables, a welcome respite from the heat of the day. Doreen O’Donnell is rubbing down Donovan, a large bay gelding who stands nonchalantly as she works. It’s as if he accepts all this attention as his right, but isn’t afraid to enjoy every minute of it. I love the smell in here, earthy, cheesy, horsey. We can talk here, away from the house and the mild bickering, raucous laughter and constant drone of the television.
‘They’re making us an offer for the business, Doreen.’
‘It’s yours to sell, Jenny. God love you for all you’ve done for us.’
I wince inwardly as the sharp dagger of guilt pierces my guts. ‘If it weren’t for you and Gary I’d not be here to do anything. As far as I’m concerned it’s your call, Doreen, I’ll go along with whatever you decide. Whatever’s best for you and the kids.’
‘Don’t be so soft, Jenny. Look at all this. Gary left us well set, debt-free, you’ve no need to concern yourself about us. You’ve done your bit and more.’
‘My instinct is to sell if the offer’s at all reasonable,’ I say.
‘Then do it, I’ll not be complaining.’
‘If we do sell, you should have enough to be able to live comfortably.’
‘What about you?’
‘I’ll move on, get another job.’
‘And you’ll not be worrying about me, Jenny Parker. I’ll not accept a single penny, it’s your business, you made it what it is. The kids are older now, we’re capable of making our own way in life. That’s for the best, you know it is. If you let them, they’ll sit on their backsides and get up to God knows what mischief. Look at all those lottery winners, are they happy? No, they are not. Every single one of them dies from drugs and drink and suicide and who can blame them? All the point’s taken out of their lives. I’ll not have that happen to my children, Jenny Parker, not even if you have the very best of intentions.’