by Wendy Reakes
Frank shifted on his seat and leaned forward until their faces were almost touching. “Not for me, son. You stuck your neck out to save your own neck, so don’t try and kid a kidder.”
“You’ve got wine deliveries going to Kathy’s and I didn’t know about it.” Ben couldn’t believe the conversation he was having with this crook. The whole affair was getting out of hand.
Two-years ago he’d handed over forty-thousand pounds of the money Lance Willington had given him to Frank Warner. He kept the other ten-thousand to finance a little investment a friend had in mind for a snooker hall in Bayswater. Frank Warner had accepted the gesture despite the sixty-thousand shortfall. To make up for the rest and allowing him to keep his legs intact, he persuaded Ben to turn a blind eye whilst he put some money through Kathy’s books.
Money laundering! What had he lowered himself to? It began five-years back when Frank had handed him the deeds to the Corner. “It’s all yours,” he’d announced when the mortgage was paid off and the documents changed into Ben’s name. “There are a couple of conditions, though,” he’d said. “One: as far as anyone else is concerned I have no connection to the business at all. Two: you retain Paddy Johnson who’s been managing the books since we opened, and three: you only take a salary from the business. The profits get split sixty-forty and put into an offshore account in both our names. That way we’re both covered.”
Ben had accepted the proposal. It was fair at the time and his salary was generous by any standards. He knew Frank was using the Corner to transfer some of his own funds too, via Paddy Johnson and he had little choice but to turn a blind eye to that too. His confidence increased when Frank told him he’d been doing it for years and getting away with it.
When he’d married Katherine, he unwillingly and with enormous guilt, talked her into changing her accountant to Paddy Johnson; the same accountant who manipulated the books for the Corner. Thus began an involvement with Katherine’s beloved restaurant that if she found out would destroy her. Destroy them!
“When I agreed to your money laundering scam,” Ben whispered, looking about to ensure no one was listening. “I didn’t agree to you processing your bootleg stuff through Kathy’s.”
“Bootleg!” Frank Warner guffawed. “It’s not bootleg.”
“Bootleg!” Ben contradicted him. “It’s a verb. In case you didn’t know. It means to unlawfully sell, transport, or make alcoholic beverages. You’re a bootlegger!”
“That’s very Hollywood of you.” Frank laughed. “Look, all I do is ship the stuff for a friend of mine. A very grateful friend who sells the wine in his supermarket chain! It doesn’t affect Kathy’s at all.”
“Except the invoice had the restaurant’s address on it. So if all this comes out Kathy’s will be investigated for VAT fraud,” Ben said. “Like you say, Frank, you can’t kid a kidder.”
“Huh! Paddy takes care of all that. It won’t come out. The whole deal is safe as houses.”
Ben glanced around the room. He spoke slowly and quietly. “Look, the wine shipments have got to stop. I’m serious. I’m bringing my wife to your house tonight. If she gets any inkling about this, the rest of the deal is off too. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, I understand you. Don’t worry. Uncle Frank’s got everything in hand. I just need to know one thing, Ben my son.” Frank Warner had a look in his eye that made Ben shiver. “You wouldn’t think about blowing the whistle on your ol’ step dad would ya?”
“If my wife finds out I won’t have to. She’ll be the one blowing the whistle and she’ll be blowing it real hard. Believe me!”
Chapter 47
“Baby!” Yvonne cried as Ben walked in through the door. She held out her arms, looking as if she expected him to run into them.
He stepped back, repulsed by her overly affectionate welcome. He turned and ushered Katherine through the door. “Uh! This is my wife, Katherine.”
“Not just a wife! Eh, Ben!?” Frank Warner’s voice boomed from the open doorway leading to the lounge. He moved quickly, his giant frame walking towards them. “A daughter-in-law too now, eh!” Frank said, hugging her to his fat body.
She was glad of the warm welcome from Ben’s family but it all seemed a little over the top. She’d noticed it as soon as they’d walked into the house. The two of them were larger than life, greeting her like the daughter they’d never had. It made her feel uncomfortable.
Yvonne was nothing like shed expected. She was an inch shorter than her and very slender but her deep cleavage was clearly visible over her low-cut sparkling top, covered with beads and gold chains dangling over them. She wore a white pleated skirt to her knees and pink kitten heel mules on her small feet, with a red, perfect pedicure.
Frank Warner was just how she’d imagined. Ben had described him often enough. He was about six-feet tall and big in every way. His hair was thin and he was bald on the crown, but it was his hands she couldn’t help noticing. They were large and his fingers fat, defined by a gold sovereign ring on his pinky finger. It looked ridiculous, somehow.
Ben was standing back a little, allowing her to do all the talking. He was in a strange mood. When she got back to the hotel earlier, she’d found him in the bar. She could tell he’d had a few and he’d looked like he was ready for more. “How was lunch with your father?” she asked.
“Stepfather!”
“Well?”
“It was okay. Just drop it will you?” he’d said.
“Fine, but I’ve got a message for you from Marjorie Willington. You need to give your father…I mean Lance, for goodness sake… a call. It sounds important.”
“Right! I’ll do it tomorrow.”
She was surprised at him being so accommodating. “Marjorie sounded upset. Perhaps you should ring her now, Ben.”
“Fine, I’ll do it now.” He downed his drink, slammed the glass on the bar and left. Since then he’d hardly said two words to her.
Yvonne and Frank Warner showed them through to the large lounge where Katherine came to a standstill in the centre of the room. She turned her body as she stared at the décor, as if she was in a trance
The house was Grand-Victorian, set in extensive grounds. It was beautiful from the outside with its stone walls, sash windows, and a high, pitched, red slate roof, but there, inside, it was hideous. The large Victorian windows had been replaced with PVC secondary glazing. A maple coloured laminate floor covered the room where authentic oak floorboards once laid. Modern shell shaped sofas were pushed back against two walls, leaving a gaping wound in the middle of the vast room where a smoked glass-topped coffee table sat alone in the centre over a pink shag-pile rug. The old original Victorian mantle and fire surround had been maliciously torn from the far wall and replaced with a modern gas fire. It had a white marble hearth, decorated with vases filled with coloured silk flowers, like an elaborate tombstone. Above, an old seventies reproduction painting depicted an Oriental girl clad in red robes. The girl in the picture had an enigmatic Mona Lisa smile as she waited for someone to tear her down and burn her.
Katherine suddenly felt everyone’s eyes on her. Her cheeks flushed red when she saw Ben staring at her from across the floor. He was smiling as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.
Yvonne placed a sherry in her hand. “I hope you like a nice sherry, Katherine.” She took her own sherry and sat on one of the sofas. She patted the seat next to hers, inviting her to sit down. “I’ve been dying to meet you. I was a bit hurt when Ben told me you two got hitched and you didn’t invite his old mum,” she said pouting.
“Everything was so rushed. We only had a couple of people there.” The truth was Ben didn’t want them there. She fidgeted on the sofa and tugged one of the cushions behind her to get more comfortable. Then she spilled her sherry and it splashed over the floor “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said brushing the spills from her lap.
“Don’t worry, babe.” Yvonne said. “It won’t spoil. That’s the beauty of laminate flooring.”
; The evening was torture. Ben hardly said a word as his mother spent the whole time quizzing them about the wedding, and Frank Warner goy progressively drunker and lewder, quizzing her about Kathy’s. “I hear you’ve got a chain now, you two,” he said. “Did you hear that, Mother? A chain! Talk about a chip off the ol’ block. We’ll be merging before you know it.”
In the taxi on the way back to their hotel, Katherine vented. “Chip off the old block? Merging?” she echoes, as Ben laughed at her ferocity. “How can you be a chip off the old block when you’re not even related? Merging? Merging what exactly? Five up-market restaurants with a bunch of greasy spoons? He’s got to be kidding!”
“Not greasy spoons, babe. Profitable and efficiently run, fast food restaurants.”
“And furthermore…” She knew she was getting over-excited, but she really needed to let off steam. “What gives him the idea that you’re involved in the restaurants? He seemed to be under the impression we both owned them.”
“Will you calm down, Katherine? I warned you about them but you wouldn’t listen. They’re both deluded,” Ben said. “I take it you won’t be striking up an alliance with my mother like you have with Marjorie Willington?”
“Spot on, babe. Spot on.”
By the time the taxi neared the hotel, she’d calmed a little. She looked at Ben gazing out of the window with his chin cupped in his hand. “What time are you going to see Lance, tomorrow?” she asks quietly.
“Eight-thirty! Then I can get the hell out of this hell hole and back to civilisation.
Chapter 48
Penny Taylor watchedthe rag-and-bone-man trundle down the sloping hill, his load balanced on the back, tied securely with rope. Thank goodness that was gone. She hated that damn chair.
She entered the house through an unobtrusive door at the side of the garage. “And you’ll be next,” she said, only half-joking, as Max tried forcing himself on her. Up on his great hind legs, and his foul breath on her face, the force of his front paws nearly pushed her over. She shoved him aside while he predicted her next move and ran ahead across the concrete floor to the inner door. She ruffled her hand over the top of his great head and tugged on his collar so that she could open the door. “Come on! Foodies!” she hollered with an exaggerated high-pitched tone.
The dog followed her into the kitchen and waited for her to fill his bowl. “Give me a chance, you big beast.” She took his large stone dish, etched ‘Max’, and filled it with dog biscuits. Then, pushing him away she placed it on the floor next to the washing machine, before he devoured it, no longer interested in her.
Penny left the kitchen, closed the door behind her and went into the lounge. Secretly, the dog frightened her. He was a Great Dane, jet black and taller than her on his back legs. Jack called him ‘his boy’, and it was that intimate reference most of all that irritated the hell out of her. How many times had the dog nudged her off the sofa when she and Jack were cuddling up watching television? “It’s only because it has been just him and me for so long,” Jack would say, pulling her back onto the couch and giving Max a clip over the nose. Penny wasn’t so convinced. Jack seemed to ignore the fact they’d been married all this time. “You’d think he’d be used to me by now,” she’d responded in her little girl voice, revelling in him taking her side over the dog’s.
The truth was, it wasn’t just the dog that made her feel like the ‘new girl’ in their own home. Jack’s home. Jack had refused to move after they got married, even after months of cajoling. “A house with a garden would be better for Max,” she’d argued time and time again. But he answered dismissively, “He’s got the green outside and he has a two mile walk every day. Max is fine where he is.”
Penny threw herself down into an easy chair just as the telephone rang.
“It’s me,” the voice said.
“What are you doing, phoning me here?” Penny looked around at the door even though she knew Jack wouldn’t be home for ages yet.
“I need to know if you’re going to take the job.”
“I told you I’ll tell you on Monday when I come back to work. I haven’t decided yet.”
“It’s Saturday. You’ve had all week to think about it. What difference does a day make?”
The phrase reminded Penny of the Esther Phillips song, ‘What a difference a day makes…’ She’d have that tune stuck in her head all day now, she pondered, annoyed at him for putting it there. “Look, I told you I was taking a week off to chew it over. That means seven days, got it?”
“Suit yourself, but I’m warning you, Penny, if you turn this one down, there won’t be another offer.”
“Of course there will,” she replied confidently, before hanging up.
Cornell Piper, her boss, had been her lover before she married Jack. In fact, they’d just broken up when she and Jack first met. Cornell owned the advertising firm where she’d worked for the past eight-years. Advertising was what she did best. She loved it, and she was good at it. There was nothing more exciting than coming-up with a new campaign, which seduced the client into a bonus related contract. ‘It’s so entirely life-lifting,’ she’d say.
When she fell in love with Jack, she told Cornell it was over between them. They’d got together only once since then. Not that Jack knew about it and she hoped he never had to know. She’d been celebrating at the office party last Christmas and she’d had a little too much to drink. Cornell offered her a ride home with a detour to his place en-route. By the time she got back home, three hours later, Jack was asleep and she was stone cold sober.
Now, Cornell was offering her a promotion. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, elevating her above her current managerial rank. It would mean some trips abroad, regular trips, in fact to their client’s offices in Rome, meaning long spells away from home and of course spending more time with her boss. She knew Jack wouldn’t like it if she took up the post, so she was torn. After all, she had always been terribly loyal.
Chapter 49
Jack turnedthe key in the lock and went straight into the kitchen. Max was going crazy, as he always went crazy when Jack got home. He rubbed his hands over the Great Dane’s jaws, exciting him more, making him scratch his talons across the tiled floor. He pulled the dog into the door at the side leading to the garage. I’ll take you out after dinner, boy,” he said, giving Max one more hug.
“Hi, honey.” Penny came towards him. She stopped at arm’s-length since he was covered in spilled oil and dirt. “What on earth have you been doing?”
“One of my lorries broke down. I’ve been underneath it all day.”
“Yuk!”
He grabbed her. “Wouldn’t mind being underneath you.”
“Uh, maybe later,” she said, pushing him away. She watched him unbutton his shirt. “Give me your clothes and I’ll put them in the machine.”
Jack showered and put on his faded jeans and a black T-shirt with the Rolling Stones red-lips logo on its front. A relic from the seventies, it was his absolute favourite item of clothing. Feeling fresh and clean again, he was glad to be home after a tough day.
Jack walked slowly through the lounge and glanced at the sliding glass doors leading to the terrace. Outside, the light was fading, but he could still see the dramatic autumn hues of the foliage out there. It was a spectacular view and he never tired looking at it.
He went into the kitchen where Penny was preparing dinner. Putting his arms around her waist he looked over her shoulder. “Hmm!” he teased. “M&S healthy options.” He squeezed her bottom. “You know, I could do with a bit more than that, Pen. I’m starving.”
“Well you can always grab some fish and chips later. This’ll do you for now.”
“Will it? I didn’t know you were a living and breathing expert on the capacity of my stomach.” Jack turned her towards him and nuzzled her neck. “Let’s go and grab something at Pete’s.” It was Jack’s favourite haunt, a café in Clifton, only a five minutes’ walk away. It was just a greasy spoon, but Pete served portions f
it for hungry men and Max enjoyed the walk afterwards on the Clifton Downs.
“You know I hate that place. Besides, I’ve made this now.”
“You didn’t make it, Penny. You got it out of the wrapper and shoved it in the microwave.”
Jack moved away from her and sat down at the table. She put the plate of low-fat Tagliatelli Carbonara in front of him. “There’s plenty of bread,” she said, trying to please him. “And look, I made a green salad. No tomatoes. Just how you like it!”
Jack softened, breaking up a piece of the French bread and putting it into his mouth. “So, you’re back to work on Monday!?”
“I wanted to talk to you about that, Jack,” she said. “I’ve been offered a promotion.”
“Well, that’s great. Fantastic actually! I’m proud of you, Pen. What’s the job?”
“Cornell has offered me the Gateway contract. It was me who pulled them in, so it’s only fair I should have the position.”
Jack chewed his bread for a while, thinking. “Isn’t that the firm in Italy?”
“Yes, that’s right.” Penny raised her fork with strips of creamy coated pasta wrapped around it and places it delicately into her mouth. “Rome!”
Jack stopped chewing. “You’re not seriously telling me you’re going to work in Rome.”
She laughed. “Not all the time, darling, a couple of days a week at the most. I’ll be commuting. It should be easy. It’s a straight flight from Bristol to Rome.”
“Sure it is.” Jack pushed his plate away. “We’ve been here before, Penny.”
“But I didn’t take that last job, Jack,” she reasoned. “I did that for you, because you said you didn’t want me to fly to New York every week.” She stood up and sat on his lap, taking his arm and putting it around her. “Remember, baby?”
Jack gently pushed her away. He knew when he was being manipulated. It irritated him when women thought he didn’t know they were doing it. “I’m going outside for a while.” He left her sitting at the table and carried a glass of red wine with him. He glided the doors to the terrace open and stepped out.