Bitter Sweet

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Bitter Sweet Page 22

by Mason N. Forbes


  ‘That will be fine,’ I said, for want of anything better to say and gave Oscar another smile.

  ‘See you then,’ he said, returning the smile and then walked over to the taxi rank.

  ‘Mike,’ I said, placing a hand on my hip. ‘What the hell happened in there?’

  ‘He got you out on bail—’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘By shifting the case to the Crown Court, he has bought you time. Please,’ he said, putting an arm across my shoulders, ‘let him do the explaining.’

  I shrugged Mike’s arm off. What was it with men and my shoulders this morning?

  ‘I need to buy a new phone – the police have got mine. I need to contact Ivonne and I need to go home.’

  ‘In that order?’

  ‘Yes, in that order,’ I said, walking off towards the street.

  ‘Then let me help you,’ Mike said, catching up and taking my hand.

  I stopped, withdrew my hand and gave him a hard stare.

  ‘Tina Thompson of fifty three Northwood Road.’

  ‘That’s right,’ I said, ‘but don’t expect to be invited in.’

  ‘I don’t. I haven’t much time, today.’

  I continued to give Mike the hard stare. It came as a shock that he knew my address. Silly really, it had been read out in the court. The boundaries between Nina the escort and Tina the student, had gone. It was time to erase Nina, and to do that I needed to get home to my laptop.

  ‘Deal,’ I said. ‘Let’s go.’

  In the first of the myriad stores which sell mobile phones, I scanned the shelves looking for the cheapest pay-as-you-go phone available. As I reached for a Nokia, Mike said; ‘Don’t. Take a smartphone, email and web access is worth having, and you don’t know when you’ll get yours back.’

  ‘True,’ I said, and moved along the rows of phones. And, although I wasn’t going to tell Mike, with a smartphone I’d be able to delete my profile on Escort England almost immediately and not have to wait until I got home.

  I paid for the phone, a car-phone charger and some credit. The next problem was contacting Ivonne – I’d left my work phone in Markus’s apartment, and that phone contained her number, and had she taken down her profile on EE, I would have a problem getting in touch with her.

  As we walked towards where Mike had parked his car, I unpacked the new phone and slotted in the SIM card. Good, there was a bit of juice in the battery. I immediately brought up the EE mobile website.

  ‘Yeah,’ I exclaimed. Ivonne’s profile was still up. ‘Mike you got a pen?’

  He reached into his jacket and handed me a cheap biro. Huh, accountants – real cheapskates.

  I scribbled Ivonne’s number on my hand and then dialled. No answer, the voicemail clicked in. She’d be leery of unknown numbers.

  ‘Hi, Ivonne,’ I said, speaking on the voicemail. ‘It’s Tina, phone me back as soon as you can, please.’

  We continued walking to the car park, where Mike pressed the remote control for his car. To my surprise it was some sort of an Alfa Romeo. He held the door open for me.

  ‘It’s cute,’ I said, getting in. ‘What is it?’

  He smiled enigmatically. ‘What were you expecting?’

  ‘A bank manager’s favourite, a Mercedes C or E class.’

  ‘Even accountants have a heart.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said softly. ‘Don’t I know.’

  Mike went around the back of the car and got in behind the wheel. ‘And to answer your question,’ he said. ‘It’s an Alfa Romeo Giulietta.’

  I could tell that Mike wanted to tell me more. ‘And?’

  ‘It’s only the second car I’ve bought in my life.’

  ‘You’re kidding.’

  ‘No.’

  Mike started the engine and drove out of the car park. ‘I had a teacher at school – taught English. He’d flown Spitfires in the war and was an Oxford Blue. Anyway, he made a lasting impression and I’d always admired the car he drove, a yellow Alfa Spider, series I.’ Mike chuckled. ‘He had to get rid of it when the floor fell through. That didn’t stop me from buying one, later. The exact same model, I’ve still got it, it stays in the garage now.’

  I leaned back into the seat. I had begun to see men as stereotypes and that pained me.

  ‘Thank you, Mike,’ I said, leaning across, giving him a kiss on the cheek, ‘for all your help.’

  ‘Wow, that was nice.’

  I leaned across again and gave him another kiss.

  ‘Watch it!’

  Mike braked hard. The phone slid off my lap. I picked it up, connected the charger and started to delete my profile and reviews from Escort England.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Mike asked.

  ‘Going out of business.’

  ‘Good for you.’

  ‘Yeah.’ No more fingers and tongues in places I didn’t want and from men I didn’t know.

  We stopped at a red light – appropriate maybe.

  ‘Do you need to fetch anything from the Merchant Building?’ Mike asked.

  ‘Not today.’

  ‘Don’t go there on your own, okay?’

  I nodded.

  ‘The same applies to Ivonne.’

  The light changed to green. It felt great to have made the decision. I continued to delete my reviews.

  As we reached the university area, I looked up. ‘Take the next right.’

  Mike parked in front of my other apartment. It was an old terrace house converted into glorified bedsits and marketed as apartments. You paid apartment rents but got a bedsit.

  ‘Are you safe here?’ Mike asked.

  The question shocked me. ‘Of course I am.’

  ‘Erjon is still out there.’

  ‘He wouldn’t?’

  ‘I don’t think so, but what about moving to a new apartment just to be sure?’ Mike asked, staring at the house. ‘There are a lot of places in the city centre which do short leases.’

  ‘Don’t I know,’ I said, remembering the first apartment I’d taken as an escort.

  Mike turned to face me. ‘I’ll rent it in my name.’

  ‘No, Mike. I’m safe here, this is student country.’

  ‘Still,’ Mike said, before reaching into the glove box. ‘I forgot to give you that.’ He handed me the tracking phone. ‘It might have made all the difference yesterday.’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘Keep it near you,’ Mike said. ‘And if anything and, I mean anything, doesn’t feel right phone me or the police.’

  ‘Nothing will.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right,’ Mike said.

  ‘I’ll see you at five.’

  ‘Oh, and let me know the moment Ivonne phones?’

  I looked into his eyes, smiled and gave him a kiss.’

  Do that again.

  I did.

  ‘And next time I’ll invite you in for a cup of coffee.’

  I opened the door, got out of the car and gave Mike a wave. Just as I entered my bedsit, the new mobile rang. It was Ivonne. She was fine and in her own apartment – the private one. And best of all, the four girls were in the refuge. We agreed to meet up for a coffee in the afternoon. I phoned Mike, told him the news and then booted up my laptop and closed down my website.

  26

  Despite not having my car, or maybe it was because of that and as a consequence of having to rely on public transport, I was for once on time. And as Sod’s Law would have it, Mike was still dealing with a client and Oscar had phoned to say that he was running late.

  Mike’s offices were on the second floor of an ornate-Victorian building on the edge of the city centre. As an independent accountant he only employed two staff, both of whom cleared off a few minutes after five, leaving me alone in the hall-come-reception area to study the high-ceilinged walls, or God forbid, read the out-of-date Economist magazines stacked on a small coffee table.

  Neither boredom nor the Economist magazines got the better of me as Mike soon despatched his client an
d led me into his office. He gave me a big hug, settled me in one of the leather armchairs grouped around a low table on the other side of the room to where his desk stood.

  His delight at seeing me again was evident in his eyes which followed my every movement. I was forced to laugh as one question after another poured out of him, all directed at my welfare.

  ‘Mike,’ I said, suppressing my laughter. ‘I’m fine and you saw me this morning.’

  He sat down. ‘Yesterday gave me a hell of a fright. And you haven’t told me all that happened. And this morning you were well . . .’

  ‘Left in the dark.’

  ‘Sorry about that. Oscar’s doing.’

  ‘Which reminds me, I did a bit of surfing on the net before coming over. Queen’s Counsels are the top advocates in the country, what’s the going rate for a QC?’

  ‘I’m still negotiating with him.’

  ‘Well, give me an idea.’

  Mike leaned back in his chair.

  ‘I need to know,’ I said. ‘It’s not going to be pro bono. I’ve just closed down my website. I’m out of business.’

  Mike stood up abruptly. He sat down on the table in front of me and laid his hands on my knees. ‘Tina, you’ve no idea how glad I am that you’ve stopped.’

  There was complete sincerity in his eyes and that something else which should never occur between an escort and a client: genuine emotional involvement. It went through my defences. I laid my hands on his.

  ‘You are special,’ Mike said.

  I smiled, wanting to deflect by saying that a lot of clients said that. That was also true. However, in that moment it became absolutely clear that Mike was sincere, and that he did not mean it within the context of escorting. I had interpreted it as an escort, whereas Mike, who had said it more than once to me, had always meant me, Tina, and not Nina the escort.

  ‘Mike,’ I said softly. ‘How much is Oscar charging?’

  Mike stared into my eyes a moment longer as if I were some exquisite creation.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, lifting his hands off my knees only to put them back down. He smiled. ‘No beating about the bush. Oscar normally charges £1000 just to cast his eye over a brief and give an off-the-cuff opinion.’

  ‘What’s a brief?’

  ‘A brief is prepared by a solicitor detailing the case.’

  ‘Omigod.’

  ‘Slow down. He can afford to do your case at a knock-down price. I know, after all I do his tax returns and inevitably he dumps them on me at the last moment.’

  The intercom buzzed. Mike stood up.

  ‘You’re not going back into business to pay Oscar. Let me deal with him and don’t mention fees to him.’

  Mike left the office. I had banked money and was debt free; however, the figure Mike had mentioned was scary, despite his saying that he’d get a bargain price out of Oscar. I distracted myself by looking around Mike’s office.

  Thankfully there were no framed pictures on Mike’s desk, otherwise curiosity and opportunity would have got the better of me. Nor were there any family pictures on the walls, in fact, the décor was remarkably simple with just two large prints on the walls. One of which was a charcoal sketch of three monkeys representing; hear no evil, see no evil and speak no evil. The other print, and after this morning I was quite sure it was not a print, but was an original sketch of an Alfa Romeo Spider.

  27

  Mike returned with Oscar who looked tired, his suit was crumpled and needed to be pressed. He set his leather satchel down – it looked like the type school children used to carry, except that despite the scuffed leather, I was sure it had cost a bomb. We shook hands and he sat down.

  ‘How did the case go?’ I asked.

  He smiled sardonically. ‘He got away with less time than he deserved, but that is why they pay me.’

  Although it was just small talk, the comment about being paid rekindled my concerns as to how much Oscar was going to charge.

  ‘Tina,’ Oscar said. He waited for me to make eye contact. ‘I apologise again for not having spoken to you before your court appearance this morning. Let me explain why.’

  ‘That would be nice,’ I said, putting on the best smile I could manage.

  ‘Yes,’ Oscar said with a rueful smile. ‘Let me start with the things you should have known before entering the court. The police arrested you, took you into custody and subsequently charged you with ABH. By taking you into custody the police must produce you at the next sitting of the local Magistrates’ Court. Which they did.’

  Oscar crossed his legs at the ankles.

  ‘You will remember that your identity was ascertained and the charge was read out?’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ I said. ‘And then came the scariest bit – all those warnings about what would happen if I were to have pleaded guilty.’

  Oscar waved a hand dismissively. ‘I could have stopped the procedure the moment the charge had been read out as I was not in possession of the evidence of the prosecution’s case. I let the clerk continue and signalled to you to remain silent, which you did – well done. The scary bit as you put it serves a purpose; a guilty plea equates to a sentence and depending upon the crime a criminal record.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said, twirling my ponytail. ‘I guess that makes sense. But it still felt as if the roof had been about to come down.’

  ‘Don’t forget,’ Oscar said, tapping the arm of his chair. ‘Normally you would have been prepped as to what takes place. And I was trusting in you to remain silent.’

  ‘You should stop smoking. When you cleared your throat, it was a real smoker’s rasp.’ I winked at him and smiled. ‘Dramatic, though, and jeez was I relieved to see you stand up.’

  Oscar grinned.

  ‘And what was wrong with pleading not guilty?’

  ‘Why give anything away?’ Oscar said, still grinning. ‘That’s not the real answer. By declining to plead I upstaged the prosecutor and, more significantly, Harkins immediately grasped what I was up to.’

  ‘The judge?’

  ‘Harkins, but I’ll come to him shortly. Assault occasioning actual bodily harm is triable either way, which means the case can be heard in either a Magistrates’ Court or before a jury in a Crown Court. Later I’ll explain to you why I’ve chosen the latter.

  ‘Now to the insider information.’

  I cocked an eye at Oscar.

  ‘Indeed. Harkins is a keen golfer, not that it reflects in his handicap – plays off fifteen. Today is Thursday.’

  I frowned.

  ‘Men’s competition night. Harkins is glad of any excuse to speed the cases along. He did his best not to smile when I stated the obvious that the case is triable either way. And mentioning the court’s precious time, well . . .’ Oscar winked at me. ‘He knew that I knew that he would be delighted to have the case bumped up to the Crown Court. When the prosecutor rose to object to bail with no conditions, Harkins was going to have none of it. We were in-and-out of there in ten minutes – perfect for a Thursday.’

  I was about to say; I hope that’s reflected in your bill, but I managed to keep my mouth shut.

  ‘Now to the prosecutor,’ Oscar said, ‘Dougal Alexander. He usually deals with embezzlement, fraud and theft. So I was a bit surprised to see him this morning. Having said that, he is not to be underestimated and opinion has it that he is destined to rise within the Crown Prosecution Service.’

  ‘Whose opinion is that, his own?’

  ‘Very astute, Tina.’ Oscar shook his head and smiled.

  ‘Growing up with the name Dougal won’t have helped.’

  Oscar laughed. ‘When he started out he had to do traffic violations; there were a few beauties going around the CPS offices about Dougal and the Magic Roundabout.’

  I shifted my bum on the armchair. ‘There is one other thing which bugs me. Why did you leave entering the courtroom till the last minute?’

  Oscar dropped both hands on to the arms of his chair. ‘It’s normal for the defendant to be repres
ented in the Magistrates’ Court, especially at a first hearing by a solicitor. It might be a court appointed solicitor, or as is often the case at first hearings a junior solicitor, or worst of all a family solicitor who deals mainly with conveyancing and wills. No doubt what Dougal had been expecting. Don’t forget he will have known it wasn’t a court solicitor as you had exercised you rights to request your own whilst being held by the police. Solicitors, particularly junior solicitors or family solicitors, tend to find judges like Harkins a bit daunting. They just don’t have enough experience of the court system to make it operate for their own benefit.

  ‘Whatever Dougal had been planning went out the window the moment I entered the courtroom and, by entering late, I gave him little chance to recover.’

  ‘Yes,’ Mike said. ‘He was shocked when he saw you.’

  Oscar laughed.

  ‘His glasses almost landed on the floor.’ I tilted my head to one side, looking at Oscar. ‘What had he been planning?’

  ‘Obviously, I don’t know for sure,’ Oscar said. ‘The prosecution’s case was put together very quickly, and the allegation, as read out by the clerk, was very exact. That would lead me to believe that the prosecution thinks the case is watertight.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Driscoll said the victim – some bloody victim – is prepared to testify. And that it’s an open-and-shut case.

  ‘Mike told me that charges of trafficking are pending?’

  ‘It’s absolute bullshit. Completely arse about face.’

  Oscar started to grin. I stared at him. ‘This is no laughing matter.’

  He started to cough.

  ‘You really should stop smoking.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right and no, it’s no laughing matter.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘I begin to see why Mike thinks the world of you.’ Oscar held up both hands. ‘What exactly did Driscoll say?’

  ‘He said something like; we’ll run with the ABH until the evidence comes together linking you to the trafficking offences.’

  ‘Any witnesses?’

 

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