by Wendy Reakes
“Of course I will. I’ve got to make a little deposit myself.”
“He gave you the money!”
“Half of it.”
“You can’t take it.”
“Wanna bet!” Ben grinned as he used the cheque to fan his face.
“But if you take that money, he might think you’re insincere about wanting to be a part of the family.”
Ben lookd at her as if she’d grown another head. “I don’t want to be part of his family. Why would I want that?”
“But I saw the look on your face tonight. You were absorbed for once. Not as arrogant as you usually are.”
“I was seduced. I need this money. I can’t afford to be sentimental.”
“I think you’re making a mistake.”
He moved closer to me and took her hand. “The only mistake I’ll be making is not persuading you to stay with me tonight.”
She looked around the bar. Public displays of affection Weren’t her thing. She thought it was tacky and it made her feel on edge.
“Marry me,” Ben blurted out.
“What?” she spluttered. “You can’t be serious.” She searched his face for a sign that he was joking.
“Why not? We’re made for each other, you and me. We’ve always been destined to be together. We’re both free agents, both in the restaurant business, both great in bed. What else is there?”
“Love!”
“Bah! That’s for kids. Besides, I do love you. You know I do.”
“Hmm!” She smiled with her lips tightly clenched. Ben was hard to resist when he was trying to be charming.
“Come on.” He pulled her up and guided her towards the lift.
“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” She said when the lift door closed.
He wrapped his arms around her. “Not a chance!” he replied, taking the very last word.
Chapter 41
1991
When She finally signs the deal on the four pubs, the transaction had taken a little over two years to complete. It had been a painfully slow process but Katherine had been unable to let go until they were at last hers.
Initially, the bank had liked the idea she’d presented to them; to roll out Kathy’s as a brand, staying with the formula she’d installed in the restaurant in Ealing. They liked her commitment and her undying enthusiasm, her background and expertise in the field of cutting-edge cuisine and they liked her promise of a financial return within two years. There were only three problems preventing them from committing themselves entirely; she was a woman; a young woman; and most of all she was a single woman, and that was a risk the banks were reluctant to take on.
To seal the deal, she simply got married. No longer Katherine Killa, she was now Corner, albeit she never used the name, preferring to stick to her own as the one that had carried her through many occasions in her life, and one she was not prepared to just let go of. She took Ben up on his proposal exactly two months after he’d made it. She never told him the banks were dragging their feet over her marital status but she consoled herself with the fact that if he had known, he would have done the same thing if the situation had been reversed.
It happened one night after she’d planned the whole thing. She’d invited Ben over for a meal at Kathy’s and when the restaurant finally closed, they went upstairs to her flat.
She served him a brandy and sat on the floor to the side of him. “Ben!” she began. “When we were in Manchester, did you mean it when you asked me to marry you?”
He looked worried. “Well I…Yes, of course,” he replied. “Yes…of course I meant it.”
“Well then,” she said with a soft smile. “In that case I accept. Let’s do it, Ben…Let’s get married.”
He looked at her suspiciously. “Are you serious?”
“Deadly.”
She knew she looked sensational. She was wearing the dark blue dress he liked. It had a zip down the front, which he loved to undo slowly until her whole naked body beneath was exposed. Her hair was wild about her shoulders and she wore what they jokingly dubbed her Killa heels; black court shoes with a four-inch stiletto and a silver coloured toe-cap.
“I do have one condition though, Ben,” she’d said, moving her body between his legs and pouring herself all over him.
He shifted uncomfortably. “I knew it,” he said. “You just want me for my money and my body.”
She smiled as she undid the buttons on his white cotton shirt. “I don’t want you getting involved with the restaurants, Ben. Just because we’ll be married, it doesn’t mean you have an automatic right to my businesses. They’re mine and I want it to stay that way.”
“Oh yeah, right!” He ran his hand down her back, along her buttocks to her thighs. “So what’s in it for me?” he says with a deep husky voice.
She spoke sweetly, which gave an alluring effect since she looked like a vamp and sounded like a little girl. She knew she was being manipulative, but he’d done the same to her many times over. Now she was simply getting her own back. “You get to support me, in a husbandly sort of way, not a financial one…”
“That’s just as well,” he answered with a grin.
“And you get me.” She beamed prettily.
“You’re not such a catch, Killa. You’re gorgeous, true, but you’ve got a nasty streak that can be quite unattractive.”
“Well, for better or for worse, Ben.”
And then they’d kissed. A kiss to finalise the deal.
They were married just a week later.
With Ben’s name, Katherine had an even stronger proposal when she approached the banks to convince them to lend her the money. A merger, albeit a marital one, with the Corner in Covent Garden, another successful and profitable restaurant and one that would look good on any business plan if she were to take her business to another bank. It was the hook she’d needed to convince them that she was a good risk. So they gave her the money.
Now, as she stood outside the Coach (as she’d renamed it) for the first time since it became hers, she had the same old feeling she’d had four-years ago when she bought the lease on Kathy’s; invigorated and excited to get started. There was just one difference to how she’d been four-years ago. Now she was more experienced and a hell of a lot more confident in her business building ability.
A car pulled into the car park. It was her designer, Alfred Brooks. He parked next to Katherine’s own car. They were the only ones there since the Coach was closed for refurbishment.
Alfred stepped out of the car and kissed her on each cheek. They’d met six months before. She’d been sipping coffee in a café-bar in Manchester's city centre when she took a fancy to the décor. After enquiring about the designer, she was given Alfred’s name and just like that, she secured his services. They’d spent many an evening dining together, in restaurants in and around Manchester, sometimes with Ben and sometimes not, and it was there they’d chewed over ideas, sampling food and meeting potential suppliers.
“We got the planning,” Alfred announced, picking up his briefcase from the boot of his car.
“Well, that’s great…and so quick.” She loved the sound of progress.
“Don Banks Brewers started the ball rolling. We just needed to make the amendments to the drawings,” Alfred explained. “Since all we want is a bigger kitchen and new signage, the local residents could hardly object to that.”
“Oh yes they could! I had a meeting with some of them last week and they were pretty hostile. They think they’ve got rid of one dragon and gained another. There’s nothing much I can do to appease them now. They’ll just have to trust me.”
“You can’t please them all, Katherine.”
“Before we go in…” She placed her hand on his arm and made a sweeping gesture in the air with her other hand. “Don’t forget I want the whole front rendered and painted cream.” She pointed to the back of the building where the kitchen and store areas jutted out. “Not that part. I want it to look bigger from the outside than
it actually is, so only render the public areas at the front and side and leave the rest brick.” Alfred took notes. “And I want swan-neck lights over the signage.” She stood with her feet apart gazing at the front façade “I want the whole place to glow like a beacon in the night.” Alfred was watching her closely. She shrugged. “It’s just my thing!” Then with a spring in her step, she took his arm and guided him through the entrance.
Nick White greeted them as they stepped into the bar area. The place had already been stripped out, making the whole venture seem a lot more exciting now that it was a blank canvas.
She remembered the time she and Ben had stopped there for lunch two-years before. She’d discovered Nick was the manager and a chef too. The brewery had put him in the Coach to manage the place while they’d applied for planning permission to turn it into a family dining pub. It suited Katherine to keep him and his wife on; his background was perfect for her plans for fine dining.
Nick’s wife, Susan, brought out a tray laden with coffee and biscuits. “How are you both?”
“Looking forward to getting started, it’s been a real drag these past two-years.”
“Tell me about it!” she said. “Right then, let’s get cracking.”
Chapter 42
Frank Warner’s car pulled into the yard at the back of Kathy’s. It was a cobbled area housing just a couple of bins and some discarded broken chairs but there was just enough room to take a single vehicle. As his car pulled in, a night light of a bare bulb jutting out of the wall, automatically switched itself on.
At the wheel, Harry Bell turned off the headlights as Frank moved stealthily from the back of the car. He picked up one of the broken chair legs and, using it like a baseball bat, he clubbed it against the bulb, shattering it and restoring darkness.
The back door was unlocked, as he’d expected. The restaurant was closed. It was midnight and everything in the kitchen has been turned off, awaiting another day. The electric fly killer on the wall sheds the only light, casting a blue haze over the darkness and conveniently illuminating the way. As he closed the door behind him, the only sound was the whirring of the fridges, and Frank’s breath as the wheezing from his chest confessed to a life-time of cigars.
He moved past the central metal-top table with copper heat lamps dangling above, and removed a glove. He placed his bare hand on the top of it, as he would the bonnet of a car to see if the engine had been running.
The hot plate was cold. Good.
He moved through and pushed one of the double swing doors, making his way down the darkened corridor to the end where the restaurant ahead cast a faint glow.
Peter Blue stood behind the counter and pulled the cork from a rare bottle of wine. It was one of four Katherine had acquired at auction. She normally kept them locked away in a cupboard below the counter but since she was away Peter had the key. He planned to top it up with an inferior bottle of red, re-cork it and place it at the back of the rest. Chances are it wouldn’t be called upon for years and he’d be long gone by then.
A self-confessed wine connoisseur, the sound of the cork popping from the neck made Peter Blue cringe. He admitted to pulling it too fast, which was unusual for him but the truth was he was nervous as hell.
He heard Frank Warner before he saw him. His footsteps on the wooden floor of the corridor were heavy and one of his heels squeaked slightly as he walked. Peter turned towards the side of the bar counter entrance and saw Warner's gut appear characteristically first.
“Come in.” Peter tried to sound confident and nonchalant when Frank’s entire frame entered the room. He touched the bottle resting on the bar. “I thought we’d enjoy a decent drink while we talk. We should allow it to breathe, but for a wine like this we won’t know the difference.” Peter picked up the bottle and poured the burgundy into two crystal wine goblets.
Frank Warner pushed his hand away sharply. “I wouldn’t know a decent wine from a bottle of Safeway’s own, so don’t piss about with that sort of stuff with me,” he barked.
“I’m sorry. I thought…”
“What? What did you think? That I’d come here for a little tipple and a chinwag?” Frank glanced at the back bar. “I’ll have a drink but you can pass me that bottle of Glenfiddich behind you.”
Peter nervously took the bottle and unscrewed the top, pouring a measure into one of Katherine’s whiskey glasses. The whiskey wasn’t so easy to hide so he hoped Warner wouldn’t want another measure.
“I said I’ll take the bottle.” Frank pulled it from Peter’s hand and topped up the glass an inch from the top. As Peter silently totted up the cost of such a large glass, he started to worry about his reputation. He was known as a trustworthy employee, so the last thing he wanted was to mar that. Warner took a large gulp before he turned to survey the room. “Fancy!” Earlier, Peter had pulled down the blinds over the windows at the front. The last thing he wanted was to seen inside with a brute like Warner. Now that would ruin his reputation. “I used to come here when it was Benny’s place.” Warner said. “It looks different now.”
Peter Blue remained silent. He hadn’t anticipated Frank’s dark mood. He’d only met him the one time, when he’d been walking through Ealing Broadway. He’d just picked up a baguette filled with smoked ham and gruyere, when a rough looking sort approached him and ushered him into a car parked at the side of the road. Peter’s heart had raced at the prospect of being forced into the back of a car with goodness-knows-who and goodness-knows-what about to happen to him. It was all wishful thinking. He saw Frank Warner inside the car, dragging on a fat cigar, and any hope of a sexual encounter, forced or otherwise, was quickly lost.
Warner had bribed him! That was the simple truth. He’d bribed him to watch everything going on at Kathy’s. Even though he was known as a trustworthy employee, Warner told him to report back regularly on what Katherine Killa did, her agenda, and the people she associated with, but mostly Peter was assigned to watch Frank’s stepson, Ben Corner. The reward for his disloyalty was an envelope with a grand in cash and the promise of regular bonuses on receipt of new information. Most importantly, the assurance of his long life and well-being, as Frank Warner promised he wouldn’t touch a hair on his head as long as Peter remained loyal and kept his mouth shut.
The rewards were big, so it was a no-brainer.
When Peter agreed without hesitation, he still felt his loyalty to Katherine was unchanged. He consoled himself with the fact he wasn’t doing anything that would affect her directly. What harm would a little information do? Besides, what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Things needn’t change.
After Frank downed the rest of the drink in one gulp, he slid the glass towards Peter Blue. “Fill it up.”
Frank couldn’t stand Peter Blue. The little pansy was a creep and Frank couldn’t see past Peter’s betrayal of his employer, Katherine Killa. It was one thing to take a bribe, Frank understood that, but to invite him there when the boss was away, was well out of order. Frank knew only too well, the minute your back is turned, you get ripped off by some little ponce like Peter friggin’ Blue. Where was the loyalty anymore? Frank wondered as he watched him fill the glass. “Well?” he said, after he took the drink from the bar and held it against his chest. “What have you got for me?”
“She’s away,” Peter said.
“I gathered that.”
“Well, I thought you might want to use the opportunity to look over the books.”
Frank walked behind the bar and grabbed Peter Blue by the lapel of his waiter’s jacket. “You think the money that goes through this place goes through the books at shop floor level? You fucking idiot.”
Frank and Peter were face-to-face. Peter Blue was turning blue. “No, of course not. I’m sorry, I thought….”
“I know what you thought. I’ve been around too long, mate.” Frank let go of his jacket and Peter smoothed his hair, which had flopped over his sweat-beaded forehead. “They’ve bought a chain of restaurants.” Peter said h
urriedly. “In the north…somewhere around Manchester. I’ve been put in charge of Kathy’s full time, so I thought you’d want to know what was going on, in case you needed me to do anything.”
Frank was pensive as he screwed the cap back onto the bottle of scotch. That posh stepson of his was starting to get on his nerves. Two-years ago, Ben had given Frank a retainer of forty-grand towards the deficit at the Corner. He had also been very accommodating when Frank had asked him to set up an avenue into Kathy’s where he could launder a little bit of cash. Now he’d gone and bought himself a chain of restaurants. Wouldn’t you know it.
He picked up the bottle of whiskey by the neck. “I’ll let you know,” he said. He pulled a white envelope from his inside pocket, threw it down on the bar, winked at Peter Blue and then he left.
As soon as Frank appeared through the kitchen door, Harry Bell started up the car. Frank got into the back and passed the bottle over the front seat to Harry. “That wine shipment we’ve got coming in next week. Have it redirected here and get Mario to come and pick it up the same night. Make sure the delivery note has got this address on and tell the transport company it has to be delivered after closing. Tell them there’ll be no one available to take it in if they turn up too early.”
“Right, boss,” Harry Bell said, taking a swig of whiskey from the bottle. “Where to now, Frank?”
“Take me to Eva’s place. I’m in the mood for a bit of company tonight, ‘arry.”
Chapter 43
Yvonne Warner lounged on the reclining chair, watching the pretty young thing in front of her, painstakingly apply a subdued glossy pink to her long, perfectly manicured nails.