***
Clara had a plan. She wasn’t going to see a counsellor but she was going to prove her sanity. She would prove she wasn’t addicted to cocaine. She would set up the plan for Johnny all by herself. The others would be so proud of her they’d forget all this telling-off and see that she was perfectly in control. She would show them that Clara Hart was not an addict, that she was capable of more than they realised. That night, she dreamt about her plan.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Late the following Saturday night Ella and Virginia set out to buy the early editions of the Sunday newspapers. They found a vendor at a tube station and bought three copies of the Sunday News. Tim had made the front page. “SFH Director In Cocaine and Prostitute Scandal,” the headline screamed. There was a picture of Tim with a half-naked girl, next to the picture of him that Clara had sent to Declan. The story read like a dream. “We’d better get this to Clara,” Virginia said.
***
Clara was pacing the flat. She had told them to go so that she could make an important telephone call and take some cocaine. They had stopped guarding her so closely now: she had told them she had been to see her counsellor three times that week but she hadn’t. She’d been hatching a plan. A plan that was working well. She had managed to hide her cocaine-taking by not being mean to either Ella or Virginia. She was so sweet to them that they fell for it, “suckers,” Clara hissed, as she put more white powder up her nose.
Virginia let them in with the keys she had. They found Clara sitting on the sofa, smoking. Virginia handed her a paper. Clara’s eyes widened as she read the story. It had Tim’s background, his career history and his position. It had a transcript of a conversation in which he had said he could get cocaine and girls for the reporter he thought was a lord. Clara couldn’t believe her eyes. The second headline read: “Will Seymour Forbes Hunt, Britain’s oldest investment bank, withstand the scandal that one of its shareholders and a prominent member of its management team is not only a cocaine and prostitute user, but also offered to supply both to our undercover reporter?” It was fantastic.
“This is amazing.” Clara was thrilled.
“He’ll be ruined.” Ella laughed.
“I’ll drink to that,” Clara shrieked, and went to get champagne.
***
Tim always had the Sunday News delivered along with the Sunday Times and the Sunday Telegraph. This week the delivery boy had left two copies of the Sunday News. When Tim picked it up the colour drained from his face. His wife had brought him breakfast in bed with all the newspapers. She hadn’t said anything. He read the story and the penny dropped. ‘Lord William Galloway’ had been a reporter. He tried to think what to do. He couldn’t sue because, as he knew, the story was true. He picked up the rest of the paper and tore it in half. Then he noticed that his wife had left a note on his breakfast tray. “Get out, you bastard,” it read. Tim panicked. The telephone rang, and he knew instinctively who it would be. Someone to tell him he was finished at SFH.
As he left the house, his wife refused to look at or talk to him. He took his passport and wallet but no clothes. He picked up the keys to his Bentley and left the house. He thought fleetingly of Clara: she must have set him up. At first he thought he would kill her, but that would be fruitless. Then he tried to convince himself that it hadn’t been her, that it was just bad luck. But he knew he had underestimated her. Now he was ruined. He drove to the airport, went to the BA desk and asked for a first-class ticket to New York. He didn’t know what he’d do there, but he knew he needed to leave the country. Tim had misjudged everything, especially his own infallibility.
***
A second emergency managing directors” meeting was called at SFH, this time on a Sunday. Men were pulled away from their families and hauled off the golf course; some even had to get last-minute flights so they could meet at the office that night. The head of PR had also been called in. They were all upset at the press revelations. The bank had had to fight hard to retain some of its clients after the Isabelle Holland incident; this was bound to shake them further. SFH had had an impeccable record, yet now it had faced two onslaughts from the press caused by two members of staff. They knew they must issue a statement quickly.
They worked overnight to ensure that the following statement was with every newspaper, ready for Monday’s editions.
SFH condemns wholeheartedly the behaviour of Tim Pemberton. We, as an institution and as a management team, knew nothing of his outside activities. Mr Pemberton is no longer a part of SFH and his shares in the company are being transferred. He will no longer play any part in the running or ownership of the bank.
We would like to reiterate our commitment to our clients at this time. We will continue to work hard to ensure that their interests are met to the highest standard. One man does not make or break an investment bank with a history such as ours. We will continue to be successful, and promise further vigilance to ensure that a situation like this does not occur again.
We would also like to offer our co-operation to the police in any investigation. SFH has nothing to hide, so our doors will be held open for them. Again we express regret at this situation, and offer our assurances that it has been dealt with.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Until the story broke, Virginia and Ella had been too concerned about Clara’s behaviour to think about Johnny. Now they were ready to plan again. Two successes had made them sure that their objectives were right. Ella worried briefly that Tim might come after Clara, but then she rationalised that he would be too concerned with getting away. He wouldn’t have time for revenge. Anyway, he was in enough trouble as it was. And if he did try anything Ella would make sure that he didn’t get close to Clara.
On Sunday morning, she woke late, showered, and found Virginia cooking breakfast. “God, you’re an angel,” Ella said.
“No, I’m just hungover again. I need food,” Virginia replied, dishing up breakfast for the two of them.
“No sign of the princess?” Ella asked.
“You know Clara. She can sleep for England.” They sat at the counter eating.
“We should start thinking about Johnny,” Ella suggested.
“We should. I think his plan should be very different from the other two. I can’t help but feel we sailed a bit close to the wind with Tim,” Virginia responded.
“I was thinking the same. I mean, Isabelle would have no idea we set her up, but Tim was supposed to be meeting Clara. He’ll know.”
“Yeah. I hope he doesn’t do anything.”
“He won’t. Don’t ask me how I know, I just do. He’s going to be in no frame of mind to do anything. My guess is that we’ll never hear from him again.”
“So what about Johnny? Any ideas?” Virginia asked.
“No. You?” Ella replied. Virginia shook her head.
When Clara emerged she said she didn’t want breakfast. She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down.
“We were just talking about Johnny,” Virginia said.
“Have you got any ideas for a plan?” Ella asked.
“Actually I have. But I can’t tell you yet. Give me a couple of days, will you?” Ella and Virginia exchanged glances.
“Can’t you give us some idea?” Ella asked.
“No. It’s still in the planning stages, and as I said, I’ll tell you in a couple of days.” Clara picked up her coffee and went to her room.
She laughed when she thought of what she had done. No one had even noticed. So much for them putting her under guard. They let her do exactly as she wanted. Clara had told them that the only appointments she could get with her counsellor were in the evening. She had also told them that she paid for three hours of intensive counselling so she had a certain amount of freedom. She refused all offers to go with her because “I need to do this on my own.” And they had fallen for it. Clara doubted that counsellors even worked evenings.
Clara’s plan had started with Liam, Ella’s ex-colleague. She had rung hi
m and told him she needed to talk to him. They met when Clara was supposed to be at her first counselling appointment. Liam had recognised Clara from work, but Clara hadn’t recognised him. Liam had looked approvingly at her, then proceeded to talk about Ella. Clara said that she would try to get Ella to call him, but he had to be patient. She also told him that in the meantime he could help her with something. She said that if he helped her she would help him. She took a gamble, but it paid off. She told Liam that she was going to take revenge on Johnny for what he had done to Ella. Liam was thrilled, and told her how much everyone hated Johnny. The plan was simple. Clara would meet Liam at a bar; he’d invite Johnny then leave them together. She told Liam that she couldn’t tell him the details but that he could trust her. Liam said he wanted to see Johnny burn in hell.
The first meeting had been a success. They had met in a wine bar not too far from work, but far enough for Clara not to bump into anyone else from SFH. She almost felt sick as she saw Johnny, all pimples and greasy hair, but she knew she had to go through with it. She made it look like a chance meeting – he had never seen her at SFH and had no idea she had worked there so she told him she was in PR. Which, for now, she was. Liam left, saying he’d forgotten something and had to go back to the office, and for the next two hours Clara charmed Johnny. When she announced she had to leave, she gave Johnny her mobile number and asked him to call her. She kissed his spotty cheek and hailed a cab.
He called her the following day, and she met him when she was meant to be at her second counselling appointment. This time she told him she found him attractive and she kissed him properly. He was practically drooling. Kissing him was as unpleasant as it had been to kiss Tim, but that was OK. She was working.
By the third meeting, she despised him. However, he obviously felt that she was besotted with him and he revealed his confidence in himself: he kept telling her how important he was, how respected in the office, how he was probably the best trader they had. He talked about himself all the time, and only stopped when Clara put her tongue in his mouth. She didn’t have sex with him and always left early, telling him she had work to do. He never asked about her work so that was easy. She took his telephone number and told him she really liked him, and as soon as she had finished her big project, they would have a night out together properly. He saw the implication and told her he would wait. What she hated about him, apart from his looks and sweaty hands, was the way he treated her. He patronised her. He acted as if she was lucky to be with him. And his self-importance was higher even than Tim’s had been. He was a shit too. He told her that girls threw themselves at him. Clara knew this would only be true if he stood near a bridge and they were trying to drown themselves. He also hinted at what he’d done to Ella, saying, “Nobody gets in my way.” Clara knew he would tell her about Ella soon. He would do it in his boastful way and expect her to be impressed. She felt sad that he had ruined Ella’s career when he was a nobody.
Clara had opened up a line of communication with Liam. She called him on his mobile to give him updates and he did the same. He told her how Johnny had been boasting about a “hot, horny chick” he’d been seeing. Clara told him she was hot to kill Johnny, nothing more. Liam said that if there was anything he could do she should let him know.
Last night, when Ella and Virginia had been scouring London for the newspapers, she had called Johnny and woken him up. She told him she couldn’t stop thinking about him and she wanted him. He offered to come over but she told him it would be better if they waited. She arranged to meet him on Sunday night. She needed to get rid of Virginia and Ella so that after she had had dinner with him in the Atlantic Bar, she could bring him back to her flat.
She still hadn’t worked out what her plan would be, but she knew she would get some inspiration soon. She was determined that the others would only be told when things were finalised. She took a shower, got dressed and walked into the sitting room to find Virginia and Ella on the sofa watching a black-and-white movie on television.
She took a deep breath. “You guys have been really good staying with me this week, but tonight I need to be on my own.”
Ella and Virginia exchanged glances.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Ella said, although she relished the thought of an evening with Jackie.
“But my counsellor said it would be good for me to do it. She thinks I’m ready.” Clara lied.
“Really” Virginia asked.
“Yes, and you need to show me trust. That’s what she said too.” Clara was firm. Virginia hated the thought of going back to her horrible flat, but she could see that Clara was not going to budge. “Look, Virginia, just for tonight. Tomorrow you can both come round and check to see if I’m still in one piece.”
“OK,” Ella conceded. She stood up and pulled out her mobile to call Jackie. Jackie said that she’d take the evening off work and they’d have a good chat at Ella’s flat. Ella left at six and drove home.
Virginia lingered, and Clara didn’t know what to do with her. Eventually she said, “I’m going out to meet a girlfriend for dinner, just like Ella. I have to go now, so you can let yourself out.” Clara needed to get away from Virginia, who was making her feel guilty.
“I thought you wanted to be on your own,” Virginia said accusingly.
“I do. Well, I want to sleep on my own – not that I sleep with you, but I have to get my life back to normal and I haven’t seen anyone but you and Ella for ages. I’m having an early dinner, then I’ll come home and have an early night. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Clara picked up her jacket and bag, and prayed that Virginia wouldn’t be there when she got home.
“I’m just going to clear up, then I’ll go,” Virginia said.
“See you tomorrow?” Clara asked.
“Sure. Have a nice time.” Virginia watched her go.
***
Virginia started to clear up. She cursed Clara and Ella for having other people to see when, she still had no one. Just as she had picked up some clothes and put them in her backpack, the doorbell rang. Virginia answered it James was standing there. Her heart missed a beat.
“We must stop meeting like this,” James said, with a grin.
“Clara’s not here,” Virginia said, a little too quickly.
“Well, you can make me coffee, then,” James teased.
“I was just leaving, actually.”
“Where are you going?”
“Home,” she answered simply.
“Where’s that?”
“Maida Vale.”
“OK, I’ll drive you. It’s practically on my way.”
“On your way where?”
“Home.” James was still teasing her.
“But you live in Chelsea.”
“It’s the scenic route. Come on.” James grabbed her bag and her hand, and led her out of the flat.
Virginia nearly fainted when she saw James’s car. It was a red Ferrari and it looked brand new. “Nice,” she said.
“I use it to impress all the girls.” Virginia looked at him with hurt in her eyes. “I’m teasing,” James said hurriedly. “I love cars and I love this one.” He opened the door for Virginia and she got in.
“How come you’re going home?” James asked.
“Oh, you know, I need to every now and again.” Virginia smiled weakly.
“What about the plotting?” James asked.
“Clara’s got something up her sleeve but she hasn’t told us what,” Virginia said.
“And then it’ll be three.”
“What?”
“Three victims, darling. Your work will be done.”
“I suppose so.” This thought did nothing to cheer her up.
“What are you doing this evening?” James asked.
“Nothing,” Virginia responded, wishing it wasn’t true. “Then I’m taking you to dinner. I’ll drop you home, wait while you change and then we’ll go somewhere swanky.”
“Really?” Virginia asked, and regretted the que
stion as soon as it left her mouth.
“Really. And I won’t take no for an answer.”
Virginia directed him to her flat and began to get out of the car.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he asked.
She couldn’t let him see her poky room! “No. I won’t be long. Do you mind waiting in the car?” Virginia asked, trying not to sound panicked.
“Not at all,” James replied. He watched her open her door and wondered what it was about her that he liked. She was good-looking, but she was so timid and she seemed terrified of him. And she could be quite strange. She intrigued him ... and he really quite liked to be intrigued.
As she ran up the stairs and into her room Virginia tried to slow her breathing. She kicked aside the mail that sat on her doormat and unpacked her bag. She looked at the few clothes she had brought back with her and felt relieved that she had a skirt and a nice top. She also had her kitten-heeled shoes. She applied some lip-gloss and mascara and pushed back her hair, grabbed her handbag and left. “I do have something tonight,” she sang to herself, as she walked into the street where James and his Ferrari were waiting for her.
***
They went to Quo Vadis in Soho. James asked Virginia if she’d been there before and she shook her head. She almost told him she’d never been anywhere before.
“Champagne?” he asked, and ordered a bottle from the hovering waiter before she had a chance to reply.
“Thank you.” When it arrived, she drank quickly because she was nervous.
“Are you going to tell me your story?” James asked.
“What story?” Virginia replied.
“Your life story, of course,” he said, looking into her eyes. Virginia told him everything. She told him about her disappointed parents, her numerous failures, her job at SFH, the Private Clients job and Isabelle. It was a long story.
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