by Angela Dyson
“Hi. Come on in.” Luckily she didn’t seem to notice the stiffness in my voice and I made a concerted effort to pull it together. There’s no point in carrying on like Lady Macbeth and wringing my hands, I told myself. Laura would be OK. I would just give her the facts, she’d get upset, we’d talk it through, she’d start to feel better, and then that would be that.
“You look well,” I offered putting the kettle on.
“Oh I am love, I am. It’s true what they say about sex being good for the skin? See.” She pulled her hair back from her face. “Apparently, all the blood rushes to the surface which then…”
She was animated and just a bit hyper and as she described the boost that exercise gives to the epidermis, my thoughts instinctively turned to Karen and her skincare advice. Perhaps they had more in common than just Simon after all?
Coffee made, we went into the sitting room and sat down together on the sofa. I took a deep breath as Laura kicked her shoes off and curled her feet up under her, balancing the plate of biscuits on her thighs.
“Laura, I need to…” I began, but she cut across me.
“Right, I’ll start at the beginning, shall I? Or at least from when I last spoke to you. When was that… oh yeah, the day after we’d gone to the Lighthouse, before I had to go to Norwich?” She took a sip of her coffee “OK. So he called me every day when I was away. Every day, now you have to admit that’s a good sign?”
“It is,” I reluctantly agreed.
“And, you’ll be really proud of me, I didn’t call him, not even once – just like it says in ‘The Rules.’”
In spite of myself I couldn’t help but laugh. She and I had had many a heated discussion over glasses of wine about this bible of Dating Rules. We’d always had mixed feelings on the treat them mean to keep them keen approach.
“Good on you,” I said.
She nibbled at a biscuit. “Don’t let me have more than two. There’s nothing like having your clothes slowly peeled off item by item to make chocolate public enemy number one.” She stretched across and put the plate down on top of the old pine trunk I use as a coffee table. “So… I get back from Norwich…”
“On Saturday night,” I encouraged. “And?”
“We arranged to meet at San Lorenzo.”
This is a classy Italian restaurant in the town that has been there for years and is popular with the more affluent of the locals. During the Wimbledon Fortnight, it’s impossible to get a table unless you are in the company of one of the players or have slept with an umpire (I know this for a fact as my friend Althea did actually do this and not only got to sit at a secluded corner table in the conservatory with full view of any incoming celebrities, but also added some new and highly imaginative skills involving two balls and a whistle to her already considerable sexual repertoire).
Laura continued, “Lovely food and you know how nice the place is and then…”
I interrupted her suddenly curious about something. “It’s an expensive restaurant and so I hope he paid?” I softened the question with a playful shrug.
“No, we went Dutch.”
“And when you went to the Lighthouse?”
This time she must have registered the slight edge to my voice as she looked up in surprise. “What? No we split the bill then as well.”
No surprises there then. I’d already known he was a tightwad. Laura looked at me, but then her face lightened. “Oh right,” she laughed sounding relieved. “You’re back to ‘The Rules’ aren’t you? But seriously Clarry.” A slight frown appeared. “I don’t want you thinking the worst of him for that.”
I winced, wishing, for her sake, that meanness was the only character flaw I knew about.
She continued earnestly, “Why should a guy nowadays be expected to pay for dinner? We’re both working. It’s only right that I pay my share.”
“OK OK.” I lifted a hand in surrender. “So maybe I’m old fashioned and just appreciate a man playing the gentleman from time to time.”
She shot me a look. “How many gentlemen have you been out with recently?”
She might have a point there. I moved swiftly on. “So nice place, good food and then?”
“And then,” she replied. “We had a fucking great shag.”
We both laughed and for a moment I forgot all about the news I was yet to deliver.
“He’s got a grrrrreat body.” She gave a contented sigh and nestled back more comfortably into the sofa. “Really fit and he’s got one of those nice straight penises that hang properly and don’t kink off at some weird angle.”
“Always my favourite,” I nodded sagely.
“And not a bad size either.”
“Even better.”
“I think it’s time I was in a relationship again. I feel ready for it. I’ve done casual.”
“And some,” I remarked dryly.
“And you haven’t?”
I let that one go right past me, because it was her we had to focus upon. She was falling for Simon and I knew the drill because we’d been down this road before. In her mind, she had already picked out a dress and reserved the caterers.
“I can’t think why I was so mistrustful of him to begin with,” she said. “What the hell was I worrying about? Just because a guy takes a genuine interest in my work, I have to go and get all paranoid.”
And here something in my face must have betrayed my feelings as her eyes suddenly clouded with uncertainty. She made a stab at pretending to ignore what she thought she’d seen and continued blithely. “Because obviously you couldn’t have found anything bad out, could you? Clarry did you?” she swallowed hard. “Find out anything that is?”
I cleared my throat. “Well actually I did.”
Instantly she bridled and was on the defensive. “Well I don’t suppose for a minute that it was anything important but you may as well tell me.” There was an edge to her voice and she’d gone very still.
I felt a moment of misgiving as something about don’t shoot the messenger flashed across my mind. “Well,” I said again. “The thing is…”
But just at that moment the landline rang. “Don’t worry I’ll let the machine pick up,” I said and then heard Flan’s disembodied voice.
“Darling. I’ve been worrying about Laura. Have you told her yet? That poor girl really needs to know… ”
That was as far as she got. With a swift glance at Laura’s stricken face, I leapt to my feet and ended the call.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I sat back down upon the couch and turned to Laura. She’d gone very pale. It was as if all the vitality and joy had been drained out of her and what was left was a limp rag doll sitting back against my cushions.
As I looked at her she made an effort to collect herself and with studied carefulness put down her half-eaten biscuit on the table before asking, “What does the poor girl need to know?”
“Laura!” I made to move towards her but she stopped me with a bat of the hand.
“Just tell me Clarry. Tell me whatever it is because it’s obvious that… in fact now I come to think about it you’ve been acting a bit weird ever since I got here but I was just so caught up with telling you that I…” She broke off and then added in a low voice, “So, it isn’t me he’s really interested in after all?”
“He’s not what you think love. He’s not a good guy.”
“He’s been using me?”
I nodded. “I think so yes.”
She immediately straightened and her eyes flashed with a flicker of hope.
“You think? You mean you’re not sure?”
This was worse than I’d thought. “I am sure. Look wait while I tell you.”
And so I did. Incoherently at first and in no particular order but with growing assurance, I laid out what facts I’d discovered and what interpretation of them I’d made. Two things
I left out though. The break-in to Simon’s house and the night he’d spent with Karen. The first I had resolved never to impart and the second I was holding in reserve in case the evidence I presented of his crimes weren’t enough to convince her.
As she grasped the extent and ramifications of Simon’s actions she grew angry. “The fucking bastard.” She was on her feet now and pacing moodily about the room. “I knew that the prices he got for the houses were low but I thought that it was just the state of the market. I should have checked, done some proper research but it never crossed my mind that he’d been making money out of them on the side.”
She stomped over to the window and stared out at the rain that still fell in unrelenting silver arrows against the streaming glass. Turning back to me she said, “This means that he… no wait a minute… my firm… has cheated the beneficiaries of those wills out of money…” She’d come to an abrupt halt in front of me. “And I’m responsible. I’ll have to tell the senior partner.”
She covered her face with her hands and then blurted out through her fingers. “I’ll never get promoted now. In fact I’ll be lucky not to get fired and that’ll be the end of my career. Oh my God I’m about to lose my job. How could I have been so stupid? What a fucking mess.”
She crumpled back down on the sofa besides me. I put my arms around her and hugged her close for a moment and then pulling myself away said, “You are not stupid and it is not your fault. Come on. Look, if we can stop what’s happening with Alwyn Road…”
Something in my tone must have got through to her as she straightened and offered in a thoughtful voice, “Which actually we can stop…”
“Which we definitely can and will,” I agreed.
I then went on to fill her in on my encounter with Gary and his rental arrangements.
“But you don’t think that Simon knew anything about it?” she asked.
“No, I’m certain he didn’t. You should have seen his face. I’d swear his surprise was real but equally I feel sure that it has to be connected to this guy Chris.”
I told her of my discussions with Chris at The Vine.
“In the meantime, the way Simon and I left it on Friday was that I’d get back to him to confirm the offer and organise his little down payment. And also, to give the OK that my phoney consortium would get rid of Gary and crew.”
“And, he’s bound to be on tenterhooks. He can only be offering the house to you rather than to Chris because he’s expecting to get a higher backhander from your side,” said Laura.
“Exactly. What other reason can there be?”
“Well,” cried Laura “What are you waiting for?”
I hesitated. I’d thought that my dealings with Simon were over. I didn’t want to have to talk to the creep ever again.
“All you’ve got to do is stall him. Play for time until I’ve talked to Mr. Garstein, the senior partner and then it will be out of my hands, and yours. If Simon doesn’t hear from you then he might agree a deal with the Greek and that just makes matters more complicated.”
I dialled Simon’s number. “Hi it’s Gemma.”
Laura grinned at this.
“I haven’t a lot of time and so I’ll make this quick. We’re on. Yes, we’ve got ourselves a deal. We get the house and you get your fee, £25,000 upfront, and £25,000 on completion.”
My eyes met Laura’s. She wasn’t smiling now.
“Good so we’re agreed. I’ll phone you again in the next couple of days and we’ll do the handover. What? Ah yes the little question of our friend the Skinhead. Now don’t you worry about him… that will all be dealt with.”
We moved into the kitchen and I made more coffee.
“I haven’t thanked you yet I know,” said Laura.
“You don’t have to.”
“I do but I think I’m still trying to get my head around it. He seemed so plausible. You are quite certain, aren’t you?”
I stared at her. “You’ve just heard my conversation with him.”
She dropped her gaze.
“Oh, come on.” I felt a mounting impatience “He’s committing fraud and he may very well have got you fired, what more do you need to convince you? A handwritten confession signed in his blood? Any minute now you’ll start making excuses for him.”
“I’m not trying to defend him. It’s just that despite it all and no matter what his motives may have been at the beginning, I can’t help wondering if he really does like me. For myself I mean. Nothing to do with the houses and the money.”
I hesitated. This was of course the question I had asked myself in the early stages of my investigations. I had worried at it and discussed it with Flan but that was before I knew about Karen.
“Couldn’t he have grown to have feelings for me?” she whispered.
No he couldn’t I thought. I kept my tone light. “Well sure he could Laura but what difference does it make? You can’t possibly forget and forgive the other stuff.”
“But perhaps he could change?” she said. “I’m wondering now if we should perhaps give him a chance to explain. Talk to him, find out his side of the story.”
I suppose I should have been prepared for it, but that she could let her feelings of disappointment and betrayal so affect her judgement gave me a real jolt. And I felt cross with her. Who hasn’t tasted the sourness of disenchantment and felt the sting of rejection? She was too old to be reacting like this.
“That’s the last thing we should do.” I knew I sounded sharp but I couldn’t help myself. “He could turn nasty for all we know.”
“Of course, he won’t! He might be a crook but he’s not violent.”
Standing with my back against the fridge and gazing at my best friend’s truculent expression I felt the first stirrings of misgiving. I knew that expression of old and it had never boded any good.
“You don’t know that Laura. You don’t know what he’s really like. That’s just the point.” Her expression darkened as I continued, “What matters now is that he is stopped.”
“I know that. Of course, I do,” she retorted. “But I’m just wondering if it wouldn’t be better to tackle him about it ourselves.”
“It won’t do any good!” I shouted, finally at the end of my store of rapidly dwindling patience. “He’s a liar in more ways than one Laura. In more ways than I’ve told you.”
It was out now. Too late to take it back. I stood there looking at her and the oppressive silence between us remained unbroken for several minutes.
“What do you mean? What aren’t you telling me?”
It didn’t take long. As briefly and with as little emotion as I could, I described exactly what I’d seen outside Simon’s house yesterday morning and recorded faithfully the conversation that Karen and I’d had. I explained that whilst she hadn’t actually mentioned any names, I believed that Simon was the casual fuck buddy she’d referred to.
Laura listened intently and at no point did she interrupt me. With her eyes levelled over my head and fixed on the old painted dresser that displayed some of the most decorative of Grandma P.’s vintage crockery, she heard me through to the end. The question she then asked was a predictable one. “What’s she like?”
“Ordinary.”
“Clarry tell me exactly what she looks like.”
“OK. She’s pretty but a bit… well cheap looking.”
“More…”
“All right, all right,” I gave in reluctantly “She’s not particularly tall; slim, big boobs. They looked fake to me. Blonde, green eyes, heavy on the spray tan…”
“Enough. I think I got it.” She nodded and I winced at the expression of defeat on her face as she said miserably, “Totally different from me then.”
“Yeah totally different in that you’re a brunette,” I protested. “And your boobs are real.”
“But that’s what men like isn�
��t it? The obvious. A woman who looks like a blow-up doll. And why is that? I’ll tell you why,” she said flatly. “It’s because that’s what men really are into, it’s what they want. Even when they say they don’t; even if they’re happy in their relationships and love their wives. It’s what they all secretly respond to.”
I shrugged. “Look this is a whole other conversation for a whole other time. Forget about Karen. She doesn’t matter. You do. And what we need to do now is put our heads together and work out how you’re going to break the news to the senior partner. What did you say his name was?”
“Mr. Garstein.”
“Right. Mr. Garstein. So, how do you think you should…”
Tears were forming in Laura’s eyes and immediately I changed tact. “I’m sorry love. I’m sorry that I had to tell you about Karen.”
She sniffed hard and wiped a hand across her eyes and then, without missing a beat, lobbed what would turn out to be an unexploded bomb straight at me. “What I don’t understand is why didn’t you tell me about this straightaway?” The note of challenge in her voice was undisguised. “Why were you keeping it from me?”
I blinked in surprise. “I wasn’t keeping it from you. I didn’t want to upset you.”
“Well I’m certainly upset now, aren’t I?”
“Yes, but that’s not my fault. I was just trying to protect you.”
“I’m not saying it’s your fault but…”
This was getting us nowhere. “Now come on. You know what I meant. Let’s just try and…”
But she wasn’t finished. “And I suppose Flan knows all about it and that was what she meant in her message. So you’ve both been feeling sorry for me?”
“No. Of course not. You are getting this way out of proportion.”
“Oh, so now I’m overreacting, am I?” Her tone was blistering. “And the thing is Clarry, I’m just wondering if you’re not getting a bit of a kick out of this. I think maybe you’ve enjoyed all the prying and spying and snooping. It could be the start of a whole new career for you.”