Valentine Present and Other Diabolical Liberties

by Lynda Renham

  ‘Ow the ‘ell you can eat that stuff I’ll never know, and I asked you to get pork pie with egg. You can’t get anythin’ bloody right can yer?’

  Babyface shakes his head.

  ‘No I can’t.’

  Mad Jack Junior laughs as Diamond clouts Babyface around the head. Stuffing two olives into his mouth he thinks of Harriet. She’s also taking a diabolical liberty swanning off up here to Scotland. They’re all bloody poofters up here, wearing their tartan skirts and whatnot? What kind of man would do that? If she really thought she could get away with this then she’s got another think coming. In fact, after all this traipsing around after her he is beginning to think a monkey is not enough. After all, she can afford a bit more now she has a rich geezer for a boyfriend.

  ‘There ain’t even a bleedin’ boozer ‘ere,’ sighs Mad Jack. ‘We could ‘ave ‘ad a nice dinner if there was. After all we’ve been up since five. I thought we were stopping to ‘ave a nice dinner somewhere.’

  Diamond pulls up his sock and curses.

  ‘You pair of pillocks; you only put the bleedin’ blanket over an ants nest.’

  Mad Jack jumps up and starts dancing around like a maniac.

  ‘Right,’ yells Diamond. ‘Clear this lot and get in the bloody motor. You ungrateful little arses. You ain’t got my blood in yer that’s for sure,’ he says, angrily kicking over the Sprite bottle.

  ‘Well it ain’t the bleedin’ milkman’s is it?’ retorts Mad Jack Junior. ‘He’s as soft as a marshmallow he is.’

  Babyface laughs.

  ‘Let’s get going,’ Diamond orders. He ignores Babyface as he struggles with the picnic basket and the ants running up his leg. ‘And shake the bloody blanket. I don’t want the buggers in the motor.’

  ‘Can I drive the motor the rest of the way?’ asks Mad Jack Junior.

  Diamond throws him the keys and grins as he looks at the shiny new van. Oh yes, he is going to get a lot out of old Julian and his bird before the week is out.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I watch the helicopter descend and a sense of relief envelopes me. I couldn’t feel more secure if Daniel Craig were on board. By the time everyone had finished breakfast I had helped Brice with the tramp, visited the stables, checked out the tennis court and curiously wandered around the gun room. Honestly, there were enough guns in there to equip an army. At least I know where the weapons are if I bump into Jack Diamond. No way is he cutting off my ears or the ears of anyone in this house while I’m around and there is a gun room not far away. I think Jack Diamond may have bitten off more than he can chew this time. I’d done some serious thinking on my walk and I really don’t see why I should let Julian, Diamond, Hamilton Lancaster or Brice Edmunds, come to that, interfere with my dreams. Let Brice expose me, ooh I rather wish he would. I don’t remember ever getting this aroused with Julian. I only have to look at Brice Edmund’s hands and I go all a tremor. The wind from the approaching helicopter whips at my hair and the engine noise deafens me. I step back and find myself in Brice Edmunds arms.

  ‘Your PA is it? Is that the one who couldn’t find her way to posh St John’s Wood?’ he says sarcastically.

  Talk about blowing hot and cold. He seemed quite nice when I was helping him with the tramp. I turn on him angrily.

  ‘Look, will you stop judging me. You don’t know anything about me …’

  ‘Now isn’t that just the truth.’

  His eyes blaze and his gorgeous lips have turned a dark shade of pink. He’s very sexy when he’s angry. Correction, he is very sexy; period. Heavens, are those my nipples tingling, my real nipples that is? It’s probably the mastitis. Maybe I should ask him to have a look. I don’t want to get an infection from those falsies do I? I’ve chucked the things back in my suitcase along with the Morticia Adams nails. After all, there is a good chance I might gouge someone’s eyes out like Margarita said, and most likely my own. I’m sure Marcus meant well but hopefully there won’t be too many big dinners now.

  ‘The padding is disappearing I see, who knows what we will be left with in the end,’ he shouts above the roar of the helicopter while blatantly staring at my boobs. Jesus, I hope he doesn’t see my erect nipples. That’s a clear giveaway. I stop myself from looking down to see if he is giving anything away. Honestly, this is obscene, what am I thinking? Someone like Brice Edmunds, correction, Doctor Brice Edmunds is bound to have a girlfriend. She is most likely some top heart surgeon, who is at this very moment in the middle of some lifesaving heart operation, which is no doubt being filmed for some medical programme. Whereas I am a simple ex-nurse and barely even that. I’m just a laundrette manager and at the rate I’m going I’ll be lucky if I keep that job. You do actually have to be at your job to keep it don’t you? He leans close to me and for one terrifying moment I wonder what on earth he is going to do.

  ‘You know, I just can’t quite figure you out. You don’t seem dishonest but something’s not right here. How did you go from a NHS career in nursing to setting up an international jewellery business?’

  I can smell the freshness of him and the memory returns of his closeness to me back at his lodge and my breath catches in my throat. I lower my head, open my mouth and almost blurt out everything when Fi yells,

  ‘Harry, I’m so pleased to see you.’

  It’s just as well. Brice will no doubt have gone to his grandmother and I would have been thrown out on my ear, which I am grateful to still have I might add. The money would have to be given back and I’d be again in debt, probably homeless, and with the Jacks after me. I do, after all, have an agreement with Hamilton so why doesn’t this Brice Edmunds go and do some doctoring somewhere and leave me alone?

  ‘Shouldn’t you be in Asia or Africa, or on your boat, or whatever it is you do? Can’t you go and be a flying doctor somewhere, like Australia?’ I snap, annoyed with my shaking hands and fluttering heart.

  ‘And miss all the fun. No I’ll stick around a bit longer, thanks Harriet. By the way is that your real name or is it Sharon or Tracey or ...’

  I spin round to face him.

  ‘You bastard, how dare you. You’re the bloody rudest man I have ever met and I’ve met a bleeding lot of them let me tell you.’

  ‘Now that’s the Harriet I recognise,’ he smiles.

  Fiona coughs.

  ‘Harriet hi, everything okay?’ she says nervously.

  Does it look bloody okay? The silly cow hasn’t got her glasses on and is squinting to see Brice, and Brice is standing with his hands in his pockets and has a stupid smirk on his face. God, he is winding me up.

  ‘Hello, we meet again,’ he smiles at Fiona. Fiona’s eyes dart all over the place, finally landing on me. I raise my eyebrows and give a despairing look.

  ‘Hello,’ she says, her teeth chattering. ‘It’s very cold here isn’t it?’

  ‘Cold and wet I’m afraid, but you can always rely on the weather here. It is always cold and wet. So you’re Harriet’s PA? How is the business going? Doing well is it?’

  Her eyes dash to me and then back to Brice.

  ‘Yes, it is doing very well actually. I have brought the figures with me Harriet, so we can go over them, and also there are some forms you need to fill in. Tax purposes you understand,’ she smiles at Brice. ‘It’s a bugger the tax system but we find a way round it.’

  She smiles at me. Good old Fi. When it comes to money she knows her stuff. I only wish I could say the same for Julian, the little git. I’m getting closer and closer to cutting the little sod’s penis off myself.

  ‘It will be sunny later for our shoot. I hope you’ll come. We’re all looking forward to seeing Harriet’s expertise at clay pigeon shooting.

  ‘Oh yes, she’s fabulous,’ she gushes.

  I glare at her. What the hell.

  ‘I hope you’ll come too. Do you shoot?’

  Does she shoot? Saints alive, Fiona, a shotgun and no contacts? Jesus, there’d be a massacre in minutes. I’m not letting Fiona near a shotgun. God, what
I wouldn’t do to wipe that smirk off his handsome face but there is fat chance of that.

  ‘I well, I …,’ fumbles Fiona looking at me for help.

  ‘Fiona doesn’t shoot,’ I say, taking her overnight bag and pushing past Brice Edmunds. ‘Come on Fi.’

  ‘See you later at the shoot. I’m looking forward to it,’ he says with humour in his voice

  ‘Bastard,’ I mumble, ‘and what the hell was all that? Oh yes, she’s fabulous?’ I mimic.

  ‘Well, I just thought that’s what you told them. I don’t know do I? What’s he doing here anyway?’ she asks breathlessly struggling to keep up with me in her high heels.

  ‘Don’t bloody ask. He’s only Hamilton’s bleeding cousin isn’t he? The other grandson of all things, I mean honestly, you couldn’t write this stuff,’ I grumble and then realise she is no longer with me but has stopped in her tracks and is staring ahead at the house. Her hair blows in the wind and the grass sways in the background from the helicopter taking off. I swear all she needs is a Cadbury’s Flake in her hand and she would be a commercial. Cedric hurries to take the bag from my hands.

  ‘Is madam coming in?’ he asks, looking at Fiona who is fumbling with her glasses.

  ‘I’m not sure. I think she’s stuck.’

  I walk back to Fiona who gulps and shudders.

  ‘Holy shit, you might have said it was Buckingham bloody Palace. I’ll never fit in here.’

  I sigh.

  ‘And you think I do. Come on.’

  She pulls off her glasses and follows me.

  ‘This is Cedric, he’s the head butler. But it seems to me he’s the head everything. Isn’t that right Cedric?’ I say grinning.

  The only time I ever feel at home is when I am with the domestic staff. I guess that says a lot about me doesn’t it?

  ‘Come on let’s get you a cuppa,’ I say dragging her into the entrance hall, only to be met by Margarita and Lionel.

  ‘We’re off for our constitutional,’ she says, looking at Fiona with interest. ‘Although, it’s more a constitutional for Lionel than me as I just sit in this damn thing. Has that dreadful wind dropped? It’s supposed to be sunny and still around four. Good for clay pigeon shooting. Do you shoot Miss …?’

  ‘Clayton, Fiona Clayton. No, I’ve never shot anything, well maybe once at a funfair but …’

  ‘Ah, your PA is here,’ bellows Hamilton.

  To my horror he kisses me fully on the lips. Aware that Margarita is sitting right in front of us I slide my arm around his waist.

  ‘Hello Hamilton,’ says Fiona, blushing. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Yah great, just off for a ride, but I’ll see you later.’

  ‘I want to see you two in the library after the shoot this afternoon. We need to make arrangements and check the ring fitting.’

  We both nod obediently.

  ‘Good, that’s settled. Let’s go Lionel. Get this over and done with.’

  ‘Come on Fi,’ I say dragging her towards the kitchen.

  ‘She’s a bit of a witch,’ comments Fiona.

  ‘You should meet the cat.’

  I open the kitchen door.

  ‘Oh my God, this is f …’ she begins and stops on seeing Mrs Randall, ‘fabulously decorated,’ she finishes.

  ‘This is cook,’ I say filling the kettle only to have Cedric take it off me.

  ‘Miss Harriet, have we not had this conversation several times now.’

  Oh God, this is getting tedious.

  ‘Sorry Cedric.’

  Fiona is gawping like she has never seen a kitchen before. I pull her by the arm and take her upstairs to her room. Once inside she puts on her glasses and gasps.

  ‘Have you heard from the Jacks?’ I ask.

  ‘This must be how royalty live. Is this all mine? You must be paying me a helluva salary.’

  I starfish myself on her bed and twiddle my toes.

  ‘Well, have you?’

  She shakes her head.

  ‘Not yet, maybe they’ve given up, found bigger fish to fry.’

  I shoot her a dirty look.

  ‘Sorry, I forgot about your goldfish.’

  ‘What am I going to do? I feel like my life is falling apart. Brice is on to me and it is just a matter of time before he exposes me to his grandmother. This afternoon is the bloody clay pigeon shoot. Hamilton has told them all I’m an expert. Apart from breaking my arm in the next hour I have no idea how to get out of it. I don’t even know what a clay pigeon is.’

  ‘A pigeon made of clay obviously. They fire it into the air and you have to shoot it like a real pigeon I suppose. It can’t be that hard surely? Just pull the trigger.’

  She strolls into the bathroom.

  ‘Holy shit, I feel like Cameron Diaz. Is it okay if I have a bath?’

  ‘If you can indulge in luxury knowing I’m facing the worst dilemma of my life.’

  ‘It’s not that bad, at least you’re getting the bills paid,’ she calls over the sound of the running taps.

  ‘What did you tell them at the laundrette?’ I ask anxiously. After all, I can’t afford to lose that job.

  ‘Oh yeah, I said you have chickenpox and it’s highly contagious. They’ve said take the week off. Maud will look after things. She said you’ll get sick pay. Of course, thanks to you I’ve got it too. I’ve got the week off. Alistair thinks you’re fucking mad doing this. His words, not mine. Well, actually his words were, “she is f-f-f-fucking m-m-”…’

  ‘Yes, I get the gist,’ I say, breaking in quickly.

  Her mobile trills and I stare at her bag.

  ‘The Jacks,’ she cries rushing into the room in her bra and panties. I rummage through her bag but can’t find the phone.

  ‘Shit, shit, where is it? Why is your bag so huge?’

  There is a soft tapping at the door and Cedric enters with the tea. Fiona flies into the bathroom while I continue throwing everything from the handbag.

  ‘Your tea madam,’ says Cedric placing the tray onto a small table and turning to expertly catch a flying tampon.

  I pull a face.

  ‘Sorry,’ I mumble, reaching the phone just as it stops.

  ‘Bollocks,’ I groan.

  ‘Cock it,’ mumbles Fi from the bathroom.

  Cedric blinks several times, hands me the tampon and retrieves a lipstick from the floor.

  ‘Is there anything else madam?’

  Yes, you couldn’t make a pay-off for me could you?

  ‘That’s great, thanks Cedric.’

  The door closes and I sit miserably holding Fiona’s Blackberry. She peeks round the bathroom door.

  ‘Was it them?’

  ‘I don’t know the number was withheld.’

  The phone rings again and we both jump.

  ‘Hello,’ I say breathlessly.

  ‘Well well, it’s ‘arriet ‘erself. Enjoying your bit of snobbery with them upper classes are yer? I bet yer thought you could get away from me didn’t yer?’

  It did cross my mind.

  ‘Nice gaff is it? Maybe me and the boys should do it over.’

  ‘I haven’t forgotten the monkey,’ I say. ‘It’s just there is no phone signal here.’

  ‘Thing is, I ‘ad to bring me boys down ‘ere. An agreement is an agreement after all, you know what I mean? ‘olidays are bloody expensive buggers ain’t they? I’ve had to book a B&B and take the boys out for dinner. It all adds up. So I figured if it wasn’t for that bleeding ‘arriet, I wouldn’t be in Scotland freezing me fricking bollocks off would I?’

  I suppose he has a point.

  ‘So, I’ve been thinking maybe a monkey’s not much for someone of your standing …’

  ‘I still don’t have any money,’ I argue.

  ‘Yeah right and I’m a monkey’s uncle. Talking of monkeys, you owes me one and let’s say another ton on top. I’ll be ‘appy with that.’

  Oh God almighty, how much is a ton. It sounds a bloody lot. I’ll be mugging the grandmother next.
/>   A ton, I mouth to Fiona, the gangster expert.

  ‘One hundred,’ she mouths back.

  Blimey she’s good. I’ll give her that. Oh, that’s not so bad then. I thought it would be worse than that.

  ‘The meet will be tonight. I ‘ave a friend of a friend who ‘as a friend that’s a friend of mine. He owns an old disused ware’ouse. Be there at eight, at eight sharp. I’ll text details. Don’t let me down ‘arriet. Jules is relying on you, and put it in a nice little bag and I don’t mean a bleedin’ Sainsbury’s carrier bag. Got it?’

  The phone goes dead.

  ‘When’s the meeting,’ Fiona asks sniffing from a bottle of bath oil.

  ‘Tonight at eight. His friend, that’s a friend of a friend, that’s a friend of his.’

  What the hell am I saying?

  ‘Anyway, someone’s friend has a disused warehouse and it’s to be there,’ I say shakily, while wondering how the hell we are going to find the place. I barely know my way around the other side of the grounds here. How will I ever find the destination for the meeting? Jesus, I need to find a bank too and quickly. My head begins to spin.

  ‘That gives us plenty of time then,’ Fiona says vaguely, pouring oil into the bath.

  ‘How much money can you take out of the hole in the wall in one go?’ I ask.

  She turns and stares at me, her hand poised over the bath. Oil pours from the bottle and the overpowering smell of lavender fills the room.

  ‘You mean you don’t have the money?’ she says aghast.

  ‘Of course not, I thought it would be Monday. Do you think they will take a cheque?’ I say hopefully.

  Her face tells me this is clearly not acceptable, and who am I to argue with a leading authority on East End gangland?

  ‘Jesus, Mary Mother of God, have you gone insane? These people hack off limbs and then go and eat their dinner, and you want to give them a cheque? Christ, why didn’t you just ask if they took MasterCard?’

  ‘Do you think they do?’

  ‘Oh for Christ’s sake.’

  ‘Crikey, keep your bleeding hair on.’

  ‘What do you have in the bank?’

  ‘Enough but I don’t know where the nearest bank is. Anyway, I think you can only take three hundred quid out at one time. They want an extra hundred too. Can you get the rest on your card?’