Topspin

by Soliman, W.

  “Probably not. They can’t see beyond the money.”

  Jack slapped him on the back and headed for the bar. Chris watched him now as he skillfully demolished Ed’s arguments in favor of selling.

  “It’s all right for you, Jack,” someone said, “but we’re going to be offered ten thousand quid per share and that’s a lot of money to some of us.”

  “It’s chicken shit when you think of what you get out of the club.” He paused for what Chris thought was just the right amount of time. “And have you thought what you’ll do instead?”

  “Play somewhere else.”

  “Oh yeah? Got anywhere in mind?”

  “Well, there are plenty of clubs on the island.”

  “All with waiting lists.”

  “Yes, but even so…”

  In other circumstances Chris would have felt like applauding as he watched Jack turn an initially hostile crowd round to his way of thinking. But he had too much else on his mind. All he wanted was for these people to go away so that he could talk to Jack in private. Something was wrong with his mum. It involved Colin Palmer, and he didn’t know what he ought to do about it. He had to tell someone, but there was no one else he could tell other than Jack. And Jack was too busy to notice him.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the meeting broke up and people drifted into smaller groups, discussing their options. Chris was vaguely aware of Ed moving in on them, attempting to reiterate all the benefits of selling, but he didn’t hang about to see how people reacted. Instead he made his way up to Jack’s side.

  “Jack, I need your help.”

  “What is it?” He placed a hand on Chris’s shoulder and led him aside.

  “Something’s going on with Mum.”

  Jack scowled. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, that Colin Palmer’s been looking for her all weekend. I caught him knocking on her door last night. He said he needed to see her about a change in the schedules, which seemed a bit weird because there weren’t any changes. I know because I checked. And now, tonight, he’s in her room. I saw him go in ages ago and…”

  Before he’d finished speaking Jack was already halfway out of the door. “Stay here!” he yelled, running in the direction of his mother’s room.

  Chris tried to do as Jack asked, but after five minutes of restless pacing, his imagination conjuring up wilder and wilder reasons for Jack’s concern, he scurried after him. He was half-way back to his room when he saw the reassuring figure of his father striding toward him, smiling and holding out his hand.

  “I managed to get away after all and thought I’d surprise you.” He shook his son’s hand. “What is it, Chris? You look like the world’s about to end.”

  “It’s Mum,” he blurted out. “Something’s wrong.”

  His father dropped his bag and ran the rest of the way to his mother’s room. Chris followed in time to see Jack storming out of it, his face a study in concentrated fury. He was talking on his mobile phone and Chris watched the anxiety drain out of his father when he realized who it was.

  “You’re imagining things, son,” he called over his shoulder. “It was only Jack.”

  Chris tried to speak, to explain, but the words stuck in his throat as he followed his dad into his mother’s room and saw for himself the mayhem inside. He didn’t know much about sex—he’d only had it once and wasn’t sure he’d done it properly then—but even he couldn’t mistake what had been going on in that room. He could smell it. Could tell from the crumpled sheets and the look of abject horror on his mother’s face precisely what they’d almost walked in on.

  “Did he force himself on you, darling?” His father cradled his wife’s face gently in both of his hands. Chris looked away, disgusted by the crocodile tears in his mother’s eyes. By the sight of her swollen lips and the manipulative way in which she was handling his father. She clung to him and sobbed on his shoulder, implying through her silence that Jack was responsible for what she’d just voluntarily done with that bastard Palmer.

  His father gently loosened her grip and stood up, his eyes bulging with anger. “Jack, of all the people! I never would have believed it. I trusted him more than anyone else on this earth.” He turned toward the door, his face gripped with emotional determination. “I’ll kill the bastard!”

  “But, Dad, wait a minute!”

  “Stay here with your mother, Chris.”

  “No, Dad, you don’t understand.”

  But his father wasn’t listening. He flew out of the room like a man demented. Chris had never seen him in such a temper before and was frightened about the damage he might be capable of inflicting at that precise moment. Desperate to put him right before it was too late, he ignored his mother’s pathetic entreaties to stay with her and followed his father. He caught up with him just as he reached Jack, who was leaning against a wall at the end of the corridor, still talking into his phone.

  “Jack!”

  Jack waved a hand toward Joe, whether in greeting or to silence him as he continued with his call, Chris couldn’t be sure. Powerless to get through to his enraged father, Chris attempted to alert Jack to the danger he was in but he didn’t notice he was there either.

  “You bastard, I trusted you!”

  Joe wrenched the phone from Jack’s hand and landed a massive blow on his chin. A momentary expression of surprise flickered across Jack’s face. Then his legs crumpled beneath him and he toppled slowly to the floor.

  Chapter Fourteen

  JOE, USUALLY THE MOST MILD-MANNERED OF MEN, had never before known such a feeling of impotence. Of such raw, debilitating fury. His whole world had fallen apart in the past few minutes and right now he wasn’t sure if there was anything he could do to put it back together again. Hitting Jack hadn’t made him feel any better about what he’d just seen in his wife’s room and he’d had to walk away before he lost it altogether. Joe wasn’t entirely sure he’d have been able to prevent himself from killing the cheating bastard if he’d hung around and listened to his miserable excuses. Not that there were any excuses for what he’d done, of course. Jack was entirely to blame for the incident, and there wasn’t anything more to be said.

  All the same, a tiny voice in the dim recesses of Joe’s brain was clamoring to be heard. Niggling little doubts were emerging as odd incidents in respect of Claire’s recent behavior came back to him. She’d been jumpy and distracted, forgetting to keep appointments, and never at home when he called her from his consulting rooms. Her mobile was often switched off for no apparent reason. And then there’d been that incident at the club when she’d dropped her drink and almost fainted, not to mention her unexplained tears when they’d made love last weekend. None of it added up.

  Joe forced himself to consider Jack’s betrayal, bracing himself to withstand the almost debilitating pain that ripped through him as he recalled Claire’s disheveled state, haunted expression and the unmistakable aroma of sexual activity that clung to her. How could he have done it? How could she have let him? The Jack he thought he knew would never force himself on a woman, and even if he’d had a temporary aberration, Claire could have screamed merry hell and brought help running. Joe’s features settled into a glacial expression. The more he thought about it, the less sense it all made. It took two to tango, and he needed to find out precisely who’d been leading this particular dance.

  Joe left his son to ensure that Jack was still breathing, not giving a shit at that precise moment if he was nor not, and headed swiftly back in the direction of his wife’s room. His thoughts were oscillating wildly. One moment he was almost sure she must be partly to blame for what had happened, the next he clung to her innocence and felt like a rat for having doubted her, however fleetingly. He recalled her stricken expression when he’d walked in and knew he must find a way to make the hurt go away.

  How could this have happened? How could he not have seen it coming? He’d always suspected there was a dark side to his friend’s character, something shady about Jack’s pa
st that he’d avoided sharing with Joe. He’d always known for a fact that Jack fancied Claire, too. They’d joked about it often enough. But this? The doubts started to rear their heads again, refusing to be silenced this time. Joe, usually the most decisive of men, no longer knew his own mind. Reaching his wife’s room, he decided he’d had enough of speculation. It was time to extract some honest answers.

  Apart from pulling a robe about her, Claire was sitting exactly where he’d left her, huddled in an armchair which swamped her petite body. She was a picture of misery as, arms wrapped around her knees, she stared into space and rocked gently back and forth. A fresh wave of anger hit Joe as tears trickled down her face. He knelt in front of his wife, taking her trembling hands in his.

  “It’s all right, darling, we’ll get through this together.” Gently he smoothed her hair. “Do you think you can bear to talk about it? Tell me what happened. What made Jack snap and do such a thing?”

  “I don’t know exactly. I think…” Her words trailed off as fresh tears seeped from the corners of her eyes.

  Joe enfolded her in his arms, feeling angry and impotent. The woman he loved more than life itself had been violated and he didn’t have a clue how to make things right. “It’s all right,” he said again, aware of the inadequacy of the words.

  “Why don’t you tell the truth for once, Mother?”

  Startled, Joe and Claire both looked up, surprised to see their son leaning against the door jamb. His arms were folded defensively in front of him, his face contorted into a contemptuous expression.

  “Go to your room, Chris,” Joe said. “I know you’re upset about what happened to your mother, but this doesn’t concern you.”

  He stepped further into the room. “Either you tell him the truth, Mother, or I will.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Color flooded her previously chalk-white face.

  “No, of course you don’t.” Chris turned toward his father, the harshness in his voice replaced by a tone that conveyed both sympathy and determination. “Jack didn’t do anything, Dad. That was what I’ve been trying to make you understand.”

  “What do you mean?” Joe almost laughed. Chris was obviously as traumatized as his mother. “It must have been him. I saw him coming out of this room.”

  “Only because I sent him here. I knew someone else had been in here with her for far too long for it to have been a social call.” Chris’s scathing glance flickered briefly over his mother and then away again, as though it hurt his eyes to look at her for too long. “But I wasn’t sure what else it could be.” He affected a nonchalance he couldn’t possibly be feeling. “Well, that’s not true, but I desperately hoped I was wrong. I was reluctant to barge in myself, so I asked Jack to help.”

  Joe’s emotional state went from disbelieving to confusion and then abject shock, all in the space of a few seconds. “Claire,” he asked, “is this true?”

  When she appeared unable to find her voice, Chris spoke again. “Tell him, Mother. Tell the truth for once in your miserable, self-centered life.”

  “Go to your room, darling,” Claire said. “I need to talk to your father alone.”

  “No chance, this involves me, too.”

  “Let him stay,” Joe said, moving away from Claire, his voice hardening. “Are you suggesting there’s any truth in what Chris just said?”

  “No, it’s not like that.” She fluttered her hands and let them fall in her lap. “You don’t understand.”

  Joe could hear the desperation in her voice and felt his heart solidify. “I think it’s about time you told me exactly what’s going on,” he said.

  “It wasn’t Jack,” she said so quietly that Joe had to strain to hear her. He watched her eyes darting about the room, resting everywhere except on his face. “He did only come here to try to help.”

  “Who was it, then?” Joe’s words were cold and clipped. He had to know. Had to force himself to ask the question. Endless possibilities, each one less palatable than its predecessor, flashed through his mind and it felt like an eternity before Claire spoke again.

  “Colin Palmer.”

  “Jesus!” Joe ran his hands through his hair, feeling as though the life had been knocked out of him. He almost wished that it had. “Why, for God’s sake?”

  “Joe!” With a desperate lunge, she reached for his hands. “It isn’t what you think.”

  He batted her hands away. The woman he’d loved unconditionally had cheated on him, and he didn’t think his body was strong enough to withstand the gut-wrenching pain of her betrayal.

  “Are you telling me that I just knocked my best friend’s teeth down his throat when all he’d done was try to help you?” When she nodded, he looked at her with contempt. “Why the hell didn’t you stop me?”

  “I tried to, Dad,” Chris said, “but you wouldn’t listen.”

  “What the hell’s been going on, Claire?” When she hung her head, crying again, and made no immediate attempt to answer him, Joe lost it. If he didn’t get some answers soon, the very real desire he’d felt to kill Jack might well be transferred to Claire. He stood, towering over her, trembling with rage as he took her by the shoulders and shook her violently. “You’d better tell me everything.”

  He fell into the chair opposite hers, deflating like a burst balloon, too numb now to feel anything at all. Chris moved to sit on the arm of his chair, clumsily trying to offer him support. A sixteen-year-old shouldn’t have to witness this sort of situation, and seeing how it was destroying his son rekindled his anger.

  “Tears won’t get you anywhere this time,” he said coldly.

  The story that then fell from Claire’s lips in disjointed bursts defied belief. Something about her having sex on film with Angela’s husband and subsequently being blackmailed to support the buy-out scheme at the club. It was too surreal for him to comprehend. Joe and Chris gaped at one another, both of them temporarily lost for words.

  “Jack and Angela found out about it and were trying to get that tape back so you wouldn’t get hurt.”

  “It’s a little late for that.” Joe felt a lead weight dragging him down in the place where his heart used to be. The pain was excruciating. Everything in his life that meant anything to him, with the notable exception of his son, had been brutally snatched away from him, and he didn’t think he’d be able to dredge up the strength to recover. Wasn’t sure he even wanted to try.

  “Joe, please!” Claire fell to her knees in front of him. “It wasn’t my fault.”

  “Really?” Joe raised a quizzical brow. “I’m starting to see a side of you that I didn’t know existed, Claire. One where nothing is ever your fault.”

  He lost all hope then. Listening to her frantically trying to blame others for her own actions, he finally saw her for what she really was. But worst of all, he instinctively knew that had Chris not known the truth, she would have allowed him to think Jack had actually raped her.

  “And Palmer? That wasn’t your fault either, I suppose.”

  “He delivered me a message today to say that if I didn’t help convince you to sell, then the tape would be sent to you.”

  “And you rewarded him by letting him fuck you?”

  “No, but that was his price. He said if we did it first, he’d find a way to get the tape back.” Her fingers clutched at his beautifully tailored trousers. “I did it for you, darling, for us as a family, you must believe that. I couldn’t bear to see you get hurt.”

  Joe curled his lip. “You already mentioned that.” He stood up. “Come on, Chris, there’s nothing more to be said here.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To apologize for hitting my friend and make sure he’s all right.”

  “But we haven’t sorted this out. We need to talk alone. Please, Joe! We have too much to lose to let this stand between us.”

  He turned back and looked at her. Incredibly, she really did seem to believe he’d take her back and carry on as though nothing had happened.

/>   “You know something, Claire,” he said pensively, “I would have given you the earth if it had been mine to give. Nothing was too good for you.” He shook his head, wondering how he could have been so blind to her faults. “But it wouldn’t have been enough. I can see that now. No matter what I did for you, you’d have always wanted more.” He picked up his bag. “Can I bunk with you tonight, son?”

  “Sure, Dad.”

  “But wait, Joe, what about us?”

  He shook his head again, overwhelmed by sadness now rather than anger. “You’ve led me round by the balls for quite long enough, Claire. Allow me a little self-respect.”

  Joe was barely conscious of his son leading him to the adjoining room, his face drawn and pale, an arm awkwardly round his shoulder. He was too devastated to appreciate that their roles had been temporarily reversed.

  “I need to go see Jack,” he said.

  “No, Dad, you’re not in a fit state to go anywhere.” Chris went to the mini-bar and poured his father a miniature bottle of brandy, standing over him as he downed it in one gulp. “You say here, I’ll find him. I’ll explain what’s happened and bring him to see you. Perhaps then we’ll learn a bit more about what’s been going on.”

  Joe let out a long breath. “I don’t think I particularly want to know.” His head fell forward into his hands as he struggled not to give vent to his emotions in front of his son. He’d wait for Jack to get here and they could blot it all out in a grand alcoholic haze.

  But when Chris arrived back ten minutes later, it was to say that Jack had been seen driving away from Bisham Abbey a few minutes previous in a tearing hurry.

  And no one knew where he’d gone.

  Jack could feel the pain in his jaw where Joe had hit him, but the attack and all that it implied had barely breached his consciousness. Right now his mind was on more vital matters. By the time he’d arrived at Claire’s room Palmer had gone, but there could be no mistaking what had been going on just before he’d got there. He hadn’t realized until that moment that a small part of his brain had been clinging to the possibility that Claire was an innocent pawn in this whole miserable business. She’d been set up by two smooth-talking charmers who’d played upon her vanity and boredom to get her into bed. She shouldn’t have succumbed, of course, but no one’s perfect and she didn’t deserve what they’d subsequently put her through. She obviously regretted her lapse and had learned her lesson.