Topspin

by Soliman, W.

  Chapter Thirteen

  OVER SIXTY OF THE SHAREHOLDERS were at Bisham Abbey. Ed pointed out to Colin that enough of the greedy bastards, and the financially desperate ones he was relying on to swing the vote, were among them.

  “Get at the most influential ones first,” he said, reeling off a list of target names. “If we can convince them, the others’ll follow like the sycophantic hangers-on they are. Mike Dawkins is piss-poor, but so upper-class that he’ll make selling out of Porchfield seem like a perfectly acceptable investment opportunity.”

  “Yeah, but let’s not rush into it,” Colin said. “Slow play it, Ed, and give people a chance to settle in first. And when you do raise the subject, don’t pile in too hard. That’ll either put them off or make them suspect your motives.”

  “We don’t have enough time to soft peddle,” Ed said, waving Colin’s advice aside. “Just look out for the main players, and we’ll keep one another informed about the reactions we get as the evening wears on. If we individually keep pressure on them, my guess is they’ll speculate among themselves and find reasons to justify selling.”

  “Yeah, okay. That sounds like a plan.”

  Colin sighed as he watched Ed saunter across the room and start right in on people as soon as they arrived. His eyes fell upon a smaller group on the opposite side of the bar to Ed. It was almost as if battle lines were unconsciously being drawn and the two factions, for and against the scheme, were intuitively keeping their distance from one another. Colin wasn’t surprised to see Jack Regent in the middle of the smaller group, along with Angela, Karl, Trina and one or two others, Claire on their periphery. That was strange. Now he came to think about it, Colin hadn’t noticed Claire and Jack exchange a single word since she’d entered the bar. They were very close, and normally Jack hovered round her like the proverbial bee when Joe wasn’t about. Could it be that cracks were already forming in that little set?

  Catching Jack’s eye, Colin felt an apprehensive shiver trickle down his spine. Jack was a brutal thug when roused, and Colin belatedly wondered if he’d done the right thing in agreeing to oppose him for a second time. But then he recalled Aston and relaxed a little. There was something about Aston’s cold eyes that made Jack seem relatively harmless by comparison, reassuring Colin that he’d backed the right horse this time.

  Friday passed in a whirl of organizational activity for Colin. Before he knew it, the afternoon’s session was drawing to a close and people were drifting off to rest before dinner. Claire was among them and he didn’t hesitate to seize his opportunity. But before he caught up with her a hand reached out of another room and pulled him inside.

  “What the—”

  “We have unfinished business,” Sheila said sweetly.

  “Sure, but I’ll have to catch you later.”

  Her seductive smile faded. “What’s wrong with right now?”

  “Oh, er…I just left the bar and heard Gordon say he was coming up to rest.”

  “No, you didn’t. He’s playing cards.”

  “No, really, he said he was tired.”

  “Bullshit!”

  The profanity slipping from Sheila’s lips was as surprising as it was arousing. But Colin really didn’t have time for the distraction.

  “Sheila,” he said, pretending to be shocked. “Would I lie to you?”

  He could see that his charm wasn’t working its usual magic and had the good sense to be concerned about that. He needed Sheila in his corner. But he needed to do as Aston had asked of him more.

  “Yes,” she said, a deep frown invading her forehead. “I rather think that you would. And let me tell you for a second time that it wouldn’t be wise.”

  “Later,” he said, “I promise.”

  Reaching Claire’s room at last, Colin knocked at her door and waited. No response. He knocked for a second time, a little harder. Still no answer.

  “Mum’s gone for a sauna with some of the other women,” Chris Porterhouse said, emerging from the adjoining room clad in swimming trunks.

  Damn, by the time she got back it would be cutting things too fine to deliver the message and try his luck. If they were both late for dinner, people would notice. And talk.

  “No problem.” Colin smiled and forced himself to saunter away. “It was just something about a change in the schedules for tomorrow that I wanted to discuss.”

  “Aren’t those things put up on the notice board?” Chris asked, frowning.

  “Sure, but I didn’t know if she would have seen it.” Colin cursed the guilty conscience that had caused him to blurt out an explanation when none had been necessary. “Not to worry, I’ll catch her in the bar later. But if you see her first, perhaps you’d let her know that I was looking for her.”

  “If you like.”

  “What do you think of the facilities here, Chris? Quite impressive, eh?”

  “Haven’t had a chance to look around yet.” Chris shot him a suspicious glance and headed toward the swimming pool. “See you later.”

  “Sure, have a good swim.”

  Colin didn’t get to see Claire alone that night. Every time he looked for her, she was either nowhere to be found or surrounded by a crowd of people. Her son was almost always one of them, and Colin didn’t like the way the boy looked at him every time he got anywhere near his mother. Still, he couldn’t let that deter him. Aston wasn’t the type to tolerate excuses; he’d made that abundantly clear. Perhaps Claire would go off to bed early and he could catch her then? He was trying to assess the likelihood of that happening when he overheard a conversation between Angela and Claire, who’d just come off her mobile.

  “He can’t get here until Sunday morning.” Claire was talking about Joe. “An emergency of some sort. He has to be in theater tomorrow morning.”

  “That’s a pity.” But Angela didn’t sound particularly sympathetic.

  Colin relaxed. He’d find a way to get to her tomorrow.

  Late on Saturday afternoon, he was heading toward her room when Sheila again intercepted him.

  “It’s quite safe.” She opened her door wider and beckoned him in. “Gordon’s definitely in the bar and will be for hours.”

  Colin didn’t even break stride. “Not now, Sheila.”

  So intent was he upon what he had to do that he wasn’t aware of Sheila’s eyes boring malevolently into his back as he knocked on Claire’s door.

  This time she answered it straight away.

  “Oh, it’s you.” She sounded as though she’d been expecting someone else.

  “Not disturbing you, am I?”

  “Well, I was about to have a rest. It’s been a hectic couple of days.” She stood in the doorway, dressed in a short silk robe and very obviously nothing else, looking elusive and, frankly, out of his league. She made no move to let him in.

  “This won’t take a moment.” He decided upon the assertive approach and pushed past her into the room. She didn’t look too happy about it but didn’t ask him to leave either. Colin smothered a grin. He hadn’t made a conscious decision to take Aston at his word and make a play for Claire, but he knew now that’s what he’d always intended to do. He felt himself stirring at the prospect of the challenge he’d set himself. This one was on a par with Jack’s Tania. Well worth the effort, in other words. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Can’t it wait?”

  “No.”

  “What is it, then?” She folded her arms beneath her unfettered breasts. Unlike Sheila in the storeroom that day, Colin didn’t think she was deliberately trying to draw his attention to her nipples, which made the gesture even more erotic. Colin moistened his lips, aware that he was staring. She followed the direction of his eyes and pulled the robe a little tighter around her body.

  “I have a message for you.”

  “Who from?”

  “A mutual acquaintance.” Colin watched her carefully as he spoke his next words, curious to see how she would react. “Paul Aston.”

  “Oh God, no!”

/>   She folded like a pack of cards, lowering herself onto the edge of the bed and clutching at her face, no longer looking quite so aloof. She let out a primeval wail, a dreadful, hollow sound that echoed off the walls and rang in his ears long after she’d closed her mouth again. Colin surprised himself by not moving in for the kill. Instead he felt an overwhelming need to comfort her. Ignoring the inconvenient appearance of his finer feelings, he forced himself to deliver the rest of Aston’s message.

  “He wanted me to remind you what he expects from you this weekend and to tell you that he still has the original.”

  She looked at him blankly for a moment and then burst into tears. Colin didn’t know what to do and settled for awkwardly plonking himself down next to her. He felt guilty about blurting out his message so clumsily. A woman—no, a lady, he corrected himself—shouldn’t have to grapple alone with what was obviously devastating news. Still unsure how she’d react if he initiated physical contact between them, he tentatively slipped his arm around her and brought her head to rest on his shoulder.

  “Don’t cry,” he said. “It can’t be as bad as all that.”

  He stroked her back, tightening his hold on her shoulders when she didn’t try to move away. It was surreal, but for once in his life Colin wasn’t thinking about getting his end away. Instead he was wondering what he, what they’d both, got themselves into.

  At first too distraught to appreciate what was happening, it took a while for Claire’s survival instincts to kick in. When they did she realized that Colin was embarrassed about his role as Aston’s messenger, and his obvious concern for her welfare went some way to salving her wounded pride. She hadn’t appreciated until it had been taken away just what her status among her friends had meant to her. Although the majority of the people here this weekend weren’t aware of her fall from grace and were treating her as they normally did, Angela’s coldness and the loss of Jack’s respect cut to the quick. Even her son had withdrawn from her again and was looking at her with an odd expression in his eyes.

  They didn’t understand. Didn’t believe it wasn’t her fault, even though they knew she’d been set up. Oh, if only Joe could be here now, she’d feel so much better. She needed a healthy dose of his unconditional love to make her feel better about herself, even though she’d live every moment terrified that somehow Paul would get that tape to him.

  But that was part of her problem and she had every right to feel aggrieved. Joe was in such demand as a surgeon that he neglected her, putting the needs of his patients ahead of his family life. He didn’t need to work as hard as he did. If he’d only think about her instead of his precious work once in a while, she wouldn’t have got into this mess in the first place. To make matters worse, Jack had gone back on his word and hadn’t got hold of the tape like he’d promised he would. She obviously couldn’t rely on anyone else and would have to resolve her problems on her own.

  Colin was surprising her with the depth of his empathy. She knew what he really wanted from her, of course. What all men wanted. He couldn’t quite disguise the raw desire in his eyes, or the extent of his arousal. Claire’s mind went into overdrive, wondering how to play him. He knew she’d got herself mixed up with Aston, although she doubted if he was aware of the precise nature of that involvement, but he still seemed to think highly of her. A male who was non-judgmental. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.

  Basking in the warmth of arms rendered strong through hours on the tennis court, Claire snuggled a little closer, squeezing out a few more tears. If Aston trusted him to deliver his messages, then presumably Colin could get close enough to recover the tape. She was desperate, and anything was worth a try, even though she knew what she’d have to do to persuade Colin to help her.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Colin asked, stroking her back.

  “No, just hold me.”

  “Tell me how to make you feel better.” He kissed her hair, tentatively at first and, when she didn’t object, with more purpose. He cupped her face with his hands, turning her tear-stained eyes in his direction. “You’re so beautiful, Claire. No one should make you unhappy like this.” He dropped a kiss on her lips, soft as a butterfly’s wing. “That husband of yours should be prosecuted for ignoring you.”

  She let out a brief, sultry laugh. “You don’t understand. He has to work.”

  Colin slid his hand inside her robe and cupped a breast. She moaned, summoning up a few more tears and making sure they soaked the back of his hand. Only when she sensed the time was right, that he was too aroused to stop, did she pull away from him, reaching for a box of tissues.

  “Colin, will you help me?” she asked tentatively.

  “Of course.” He reached for her again but she evaded him. “What must I do?”

  “Get the original of that tape back from Aston for me. I did something terrible and he’s using it against me. If you don’t, he’ll send it to Joe and I’ll lose everything.”

  “I don’t know.” Colin shook his head. “I’d like to help, but I’m not sure that I can.”

  “Please, Colin. I’ll pay you.”

  “It’s not a question of money. I don’t want paying.”

  “Then what do you want?” She opened her robe and let it fall to the floor.

  “What’s on the tape?” he asked, breathing heavily as his eyes roved slowly over her perfect body.

  “Terrible things. I can’t tell you. I’m too ashamed.” She let a few more tears escape.

  “I need to know exactly what I’m getting into if I’m going to help you.”

  He reached for her again and this time she slid onto his lap, burying her face in his shoulder to hide her triumphant smile. Men were so easily manipulated.

  “One day a few weeks ago I drove to the woodland behind our house to walk the dog. When I got back to my car I had a flat tire. I was wondering what to do, not really wanting to call the AA and having to wait for ages, when Aston appeared out of nowhere and offered to drive me to the nearest garage for help.”

  “Didn’t he offer to change the wheel for you?”

  “No, and at the time I didn’t think it odd. Some men nowadays are as useless as women when it comes to that sort of thing.” She looked up at him from beneath her half-lowered lashes. “I don’t include you in that assessment, Colin. You seem more than capable to me.” He actually blushed at the compliment. Claire bit her lip to stop herself laughing aloud. “Anyway, my mobile had no signal so I couldn’t phone the AA, and driving to a garage seemed the obvious solution.”

  “But I’m guessing that he didn’t take you to a garage?”

  “No.” Claire could sense his growing anger. Hugely encouraged, she continued to embellish her story. “He took me to a flat on the development close by, said we could phone from there.” She turned on the tears again. “He seemed like such a gentleman, and I thought I’d be safe. But he overpowered me, did terrible, shameful, things I still can’t bear to think about, and had a camera running the whole time. It was all a deliberate set-up, you see. He wanted my help with this development thing at the club and says now that if I don’t support him he’ll send that tape to Joe.” She gulped. “What am I going to do, Colin? I can’t let that happen. Joe would be devastated.”

  When Colin’s only response was a fierce, possessive kiss and muttered reassurances as he clumsily shed his clothes, Claire knew she’d found her knight in shining armor.

  Chris Porterhouse merged with the small crowd surrounding Jack in the bar. He’d known for a while that something untoward was happening at the club, but no one would tell him what it was. They all treated him like a kid and it infuriated him.

  Something odd was happening with his mother, too. She was preoccupied and seemed to be crying all the time. He remembered all those terrible marks he’d seen on her body a few weeks ago and his doubts about them resurfaced. To make matters worse, Colin Palmer had been hanging round her like a dog on heat all weekend and Chris didn’t like that. Everyone else, including S
heba, thought he was the greatest thing since “Take That,” but Chris didn’t trust him.

  He’d asked Jack outright the previous evening what was happening at the club, and Jack had taken a lot of time to explain exactly what was going on. Jack was great that way. If you asked him a question he always had time for you and nearly always gave you a straight answer. It seemed that Ed Brady and some developers wanted to turn the tennis grounds at Porchfield into a golfing complex and intended to bribe the members into selling their shares so they could make it happen. Chris didn’t like the sound of that and nor, it seemed, did Jack. He spoke to Chris, man to man, and told him that this evening he intended to put his side of the argument to all the members who might be seduced by the thought of a little easy money.

  “What will you say?”

  “Oh, I’ll think of something.”

  “Please tell me, Jack. Everyone treats me like I’m an idiot, but I do understand more than you think.”

  “Of course you do and I’m not fobbing you off. It’s just that I’m not entirely sure what I will say until the time comes. I will however point out that the majority of them spend all their leisure time at the club and ask them what they plan to do for a social life when it’s no longer there.”

  “Won’t they just join other clubs?”

  “Easier said than done. The better players will get taken on elsewhere, but so many rabbits want to play tennis nowadays that other places can afford to be as selective as Porchfield about who they offer membership to.”

  “Didn’t you say there would be two courts in the proposed development and people would be able to book those?”

  “Sure, but we have eight outdoor and two indoor courts at present, remember, and there’s always pressure on those. The residents of the hotel will have first call on the two that remain, and I don’t see much time being left for outside players. So, in spite of all the gloss and spin that Ed and Colin are attempting to put on it, Porchfield Tennis Section will be no more.”

  “I bet most people haven’t thought of it in that light.”