Jessica had now picked up a small metal car and was spinning the wheels round and round in silent fascination. 'Yes, she'll do that for hours.'
'Hours?'
'Yes, literally hours. It seems as though while she's spinning the wheels her mind goes off on some journey of its own. She's really quite happy at times like this.'
He was tempted to ask Lisa what mind she was talking about, but didn't. The specialist must be the one to open her eyes to the finality of Jessica's condition. 'Come on then,' he urged . 'I wanted to talk to you about Wimbledon.'
Lisa ran her fingers through her hair and wished she'd washed and dressed before getting Jessica up but there hadn't seemed any point. At the moment all meal times ended up with her needing a bath and an old dressing gown was sensible, except when someone came visiting.
'I'm sorry I'm such a mess!'
'My fault for arriving unannounced. Besides, you look enchanting just as you are.'
'What was this about Wimbledon? '
'I've got tickets for Men's Finals Day. Would you like to come?
I've seats in the Royal Box—near the back, but it's still pleasant.' 'I like tennis. When is it?'
'A week next Sunday.' 'What about Jessica?'
'Nurse Clarke can look after her.'
'She doesn't like changes to her routine,' protested Lisa half-heartedly. 'I've noticed that although to outsiders we don't seem to have a routine, she gets very distressed if things are done differently. You know, silly things like washing her hands before her face or… ' 'What kind of a routine do you call that?' he asked, pointing at the kitchen.
'Because she throws her food around, it doesn't mean she's unhappy. At the moment she enjoys throwing food about, it's just a phase. She's very good in some ways, she… '
'Yes?' She looked away from him. 'In what ways?' he persisted. 'All right, there aren't any,' she admitted, twisting her hands in her lap. 'But she honestly does like a routine.'
'I'm sure the nurse can follow any routine if you write it down. You can't let that child ruin your entire life. I've only suggested a day at Wimbledon, not a month in New York.'
'I've been out a lot lately and it's making her worse. She was dreadful after Ascot. It took me three days to get her back to normal.'
'What's normal?'
'Stop it!' she shouted, jumping to her feet. 'Don't keep on about her. Do you think I'm enjoying all this? Do I look as though I've had a lot of fun this morning?'
'I'm sorry,' he murmured, standing up and letting her lean against him. 'I know it's difficult and I understand how much she means to you, but that's because you won't let anyone else into your life. You're putting all your love and emotion into a tiny child who's never going to be able to appreciate it if she lives to be a hundred. Why won't you open yourself up? Surely you know how I feel about you? If you'd give me one-tenth of the affection you lavish on Jessica, I'd be a happy man.'
She sighed. She was so exhausted that it was wonderful to rest against him, let him put his arms round her and hold her. Life with Jessica was becoming a nightmare. Day after day it was a constant battle to keep her looking half-human as she sat hitting her head against the wall or uttered strange guttural sounds punctuated with screams and meaningless giggles. And all the time, every moment of their life together, Lisa was trying to get through to her daughter. But her belief that love alone would be enough was beginning to fade and she didn't know what to do next.
'It isn't just Jessica that makes me cautious about you,' she confessed as they sat side by side on the sofa. 'I can't get Toby out of my mind. When you kiss me I like it at first, then I freeze inside and just want to escape. I don't have normal feelings any more.'
'Of course you do, but under your present conditions they're not likely to show themselves. I had no idea what life was like here when you were alone. If you've no objection, I'm going to try and get you some full-time help. You'll wear yourself out otherwise, particularly with all the late nights we have.'
'I was wondering if I ought to stop seeing you,' she admitted. 'I enjoy it but I have to get up at 5 a.m. and I don't get any free time until we're off the following night. I'm burning myself out.'
'Right, first of all I fix you up with an appointment with a specialist then I get you some daily help, even if it's only with the cleaning. If I do all that, can you manage Wimbledon?'
'I should think so.'
'Wonderful! Also, I hate to remind you but there is a dinner party at my Chelsea house tomorrow night.'
'I know. I've arranged for Schaverien to do the catering; Pulbrook & Gould will do the flower arrangements and I was just going to check the wine list with you before ringing Grant's. Everything's covered, except I don't know what to wear!'
'I shan't suggest anything,' he said with a smile. 'You'll only say I'm being dogmatic again!'
'You won't forget the perfume in a hurry, will you? If you like a particular dress then tell me. I'm too tired to make any decisions right now.'
'How about the strapless jade taffeta. You know, the one with the straight skirt and matching jacket.'
'Fine. By the way, Bishop told me your wife wasn't well. Is she any better yet?'
'Yes, although it takes her time to get over her attacks. It's asthma, brought on this time by the cat getting indoors. She's allergic to lots of things: feather pillows, long grass, cats, birds… Sometimes I wonder if it's all psychosomatic. A good excuse for staying indoors.' 'Don't be so unsympathetic. Isn't it time you went to work?' she added as his hands strayed down the front of her robe . He cupped one of her breasts and lightly stroked the nipple until it was erect.
'If you want me to go… ?'
'I'd rather you did,' she admitted.
He shrugged. 'Never mind, I'll put my faith in body language! Until tomorrow evening then. Mike will pick you up.' After he'd gone she felt very lonely.
When Bishop arrived at the Ritz, Renato Bellini was already waiting for him. He was sitting at a window table reading the wine list while all the women in the restaurant glanced at him as they wondered who he was and whether he was available.
He rose to his full 6' 4" and nodded pleasantly to Bishop. However, he didn't hold out his hand, which was a pity because Bishop had been prepared to ignore it and felt deprived of scoring the first point.
'It is pleasant to see you again,' smiled Renato, but his eyes said otherwise.
'Indeed it is. Paris last Spring, wasn't it?'
'Around that time. Are you still looking for girls?'
'No, we've got enough. You, I imagine, have them to spare!' 'The type of women I know wouldn't suit your purposes. My father was distressed to hear of Kay Marshall's death. He met her here several years ago and thought her a pleasant and cultured woman.'
'Is that when they met? I don't suppose the sea knows the difference between an aristocrat and a peasant! Well, appearances can be misleading; as can women.'
'Naturally, but no one in our position would ever be foolish enough to place our trust in one, would we?' And the teeth flashed in a cynical smile.
'She worked for you,' said Bishop quietly, realising that Bellini wanted it out in the open. 'What did your father expect? Marriage to Mr Gueras?'
'I don't think my father would make Neal Gueras a very good wife!'
'Highly amusing. How long had she worked for you?'
Renato shrugged. 'I've no idea. All the time, I suppose. Why?' 'We didn't know,' muttered Bishop through clenched teeth. 'We never knew until just before she died. If we had… '
'Her death would not have been an accident! How fortunate she drowned as she did, then.'
'Why are you here, Bellini?'
'To check on our London director.' 'Bullshit!'
'To see the sights; to taste the wonderful British food and the even more wonderful women! Why do you think I'm here?'
'Because we're getting in your way!'
Bellini shook his head. 'No, that is not why. It is because we are worried about your organisation
. It is, shall we say, less efficient than it was once. The control is looser. You are allowing yourselves to move into areas unacceptable to us it is true, but mostly we are worried about the lack of control.'
'There's room for us all.'
A waiter arrived and took their order but Bellini scarcely seemed to be interested in what he chose. 'Theoretically that is true, but firm direction from the top would be necessary and we feel this is lacking.'
'Of course you know why?'
Again a quick smile, this one almost menacing. 'It is a woman. A woman he wants and cannot have!'
'Incredible, isn't it? One stuck-up, razor-tongued, stick-insect of a girl has him running round in circles. I don't know why he doesn't just rape her and get it over with.'
'You are undoubtedly a ladies' man, Bishop, I can tell by your approach! Ah, the food.'
'He'll get over it,' said Bishop, toying with the duck. 'You think so? When?'
'Either when she puts out or when he gets fed up with chasing her.' 'You don't think she might be holding out for marriage?'
'No, she's not very keen on him. She had a brief disaster of a marriage to an actor that's left her with a retarded daughter and a lot of emotional hangups. I don't think she wants marriage at all.'
'What kind of mental trouble affects her daughter?'
'She's autistic; an absolute savage and totally untrainable.'
'There have been encouraging results achieved with such children,' murmured Bellini thoughtfully.
'Never mind the bloody child, it's her mother who's causing all the trouble.'
'On the contrary, it's your employer who's causing the trouble. Should he continue to be distracted from his work, allowing the situation to worsen, then we might feel it necessary to move in and straighten out the demarcation lines.'
'But not if someone else took over. Suppose Mr Gueras were to be superseded, then there would still be room for us both.'
'My friend,' said the Italian softly, 'we know of no one in your organisation whom we would trust to take over the running of day to day affairs. No one at all.'
The blood drained from Bishop's face as he sat opposite this powerful foreigner and was obliged to swallow the insult, politely delivered but so utterly final. He looked down at his food and found that the sight of it made him feel ill. Consumed by fury, he knew if he remained he'd say or do something utterly unforgivable and so he stood up and forced a bleak smile to his face.
'I don't think there's any point in discussing matters further. You've made your feelings quite clear and I'd prefer to eat alone.' 'Alone?' Renato's voice was amused. 'You are offended by something I have said, I assume, but what? Surely it cannot be that you yourself were contemplating betraying your own employer? That you were seriously considering removing him and taking over the reins of his empire? No! You are far too loyal to have thought of such a thing, so how have I offended you?'
'Naturally under normal circumstances I'm loyal,' said Bishop stiffly, recognising too late the trap which Bellini had set for him, 'but these are not normal circumstances. If a man can't control the women in his life what chance does he have with the men? Gueras is losing respect, hence the chaos your secret society has already noticed.'
'We are not a secret society. We are a firm of bankers.'
'I'm not a natural Judas,' Bishop continued, ignoring the interruption,' but there are times when personal loyalty has to be set aside.' 'An ambitious lieutenant is more dangerous than the most ruthless opponent,' mused the Italian. 'That is why in my country we prefer to keep things within the family. It avoids such power struggles. Since I now know that you would—albeit unwillingly—be prepared to take on the responsibilities currently undertaken by Gueras, then naturally my original comment no longer applies. I would say that today you have made quite clear to me exactly where your priorities lie.'
Bishop waited for the smile but it didn't come. The dark eyes opposite him were wide and innocent, yet he wasn't deceived. They were two very good poker players who concealed their feelings perfectly. The lack of a smile did tell Bishop one thing: Bellini disliked him. The games were over; he'd probed and tested until he'd discovered what he'd come to learn before forming his judgement and finding Bishop wanting. Not, possibly, as a businessman but as a human being.
'Things are different here,' Bishop said at last, still standing by the table. 'In our organisation the best man usually finds his way to the top of the pile.'
'Gueras has money, status, a shrewd brain, and moves in the best circles. You have nothing except your brain. A better one, I admit, but it is not enough. Your women are kept hidden, your background is unknown, you are not popular, and worst of all you have no sense of humour. You are not front man material and you never will be. A drawback, yes?'
'Yes.'
'You have a solution?' 'I'd have to marry well.'
Bellini laughed. 'You sound like St Paul—better to marry than to burn! Who among today's society women would be willing to marry you, I wonder?'
'Louise Gueras.'
There was a silence. 'Indeed? Well, perhaps you will manage after all. Naturally she would not marry you after you'd removed her father!'
'I'd marry her first.'
'Very wise. Would he approve of the marriage?' 'Possibly not, but he'd agree if she was pregnant.'
'A wife and a child! Perhaps also a cottage with climbing roses over the door?'
'I'm telling you what I can do. What's your opinion?'
'You must decide for yourself. I am only here to look round. Naturally I'm interested but that is all. I am more concerned with the whereabouts of the bullion that went missing in that bank raid six months ago.' Now he did smile, but only his bottom teeth were revealed and there was a hint of challenge in his eyes.
'I hope,' said Bishop at last, 'that nothing we've discussed comes about. In my opinion it's the girl who should die.'
'Be careful,' said Renato softly. 'If he thinks he's in love with her, and she should come to any harm, you might end up taking a trip across the Channel in a boat that isn't seaworthy. I don't think the French police are ready for yet another body on their shore!'
'I'll be in touch,' said Bishop curtly, before walking away.
Bellini nodded to himself and settled down to eat. It had gone very well. The more caught up they were in quarreling amongst themselves the less time they'd have to notice where he went or what he did. But he sensed that Bishop shouldn't be underestimated, particularly if he had one of the Gueras girls hanging around after him.
Now he wanted to take a look at Lisa Walker and her small daughter. He would find out where she went with the child and observe them from a distance. It would be fascinating to see the woman who'd got Neal Gueras in such a state simply by keeping him out of her bed. She was probably very clever and totally self-centred, but just the same he wanted to see for himself. Both he and Gueras loved beautiful things, and flaws in temperament didn't matter if all you were going to do was look.
Thinking of Bishop, he smiled and drank the last of the wine. A very dangerous opponent but a decidedly worse ally. He didn't have an ounce of humanity in him, and that made him very dangerous indeed.
Chapter Thirteen
Men's Finals Day at Wimbledon mar ked the beginning of a new stage in Lisa and Neal's relationship. Much to her surprise, she found that after some initial nervousness she thoroughly enjoyed herself. It was exciting sitting a few rows behind the charming Duchess of Kent with an uninterrupted view of the tennis. On her two previous visits as a schoolgirl, she'd queued for returns at the gate during the first week , and although it had been fun at the time it couldn't compare with the luxury of the Royal Box.
Even the champagne with their strawberries and cream—things she'd affected to despise when younger—fitted in perfectly with the day, and Neal's obvious pride in her made her feel confident and self-assured.
When the tennis ended they went out to dinner before returning to Chelsea, and she was ashamed to find that whe
n she stepped inside her home her stomach tightened in anticipation of Jessica's screams. In fact it was peaceful, but Nurse Clarke looked flushed and admitted that the little girl had been difficult, a statement fully endorsed by the red lump above her left eyebrow where Jessica's foot had made contact during a frantic screaming struggle that had lasted for over an hour.
Lisa's shoulders began to sag as the nurse continued her report until Neal cut her short. 'What did you expect?' he asked sharply. 'You knew the child was handicapped.'
'I hadn't realised… '
'Realised what?' he demanded, furious that the animated shine was already fading from Lisa's eyes.
'How bad her condition was. Or that she was utterly undisciplined.'
Lisa turned furiously on the nurse. 'My daughter's ill. She can't help the way she behaves, she's terrified by everything that happens to her. What kind of discipline do you think I should exercise? A good thrashing now and again?'
'Perhaps if you ignored her temper tantrums? I can't believe she's totally unaware of what she's doing. She looks very intelligent.'
'I thought you knew she was autistic!'
'In my opinion autistic is a label they give to children whose parents lose control of them.'
'Get out,' said Neal. He spoke so quietly that at first neither woman thought they'd heard him properly. 'I said get out,' he repeated patiently. 'You've said quite enough. I shan't be requiring your services again, either here or in Berkshire. You'll leave before the week's out. I'll find someone new for my wife.'
'No!' protested Nurse Clarke vigorously. 'I don't mind about this job, I'm not a specialist with children, but your wife's used to me. I'm the only person she trusts and I help her. Without me she'll be totally lost.'
'It's a pity you didn't think of that before you spoke your mind.' 'You're being most unfair!' She was almost in tears and Lisa opened her mouth to speak but remained silent when Neal glanced warningly at her.
'In my opinion you're bad for my wife,' he continued calmly. 'I'm certain that a fresh face is just what she needs. Someone who won't pander to her as you do.'
'The poor woman needs someone. For all the interest you take in her, she might as well be dead.'
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