by Simone Leigh
Mumbling through my food. “That’s the one.” I gulp down a mouthful of wine, and then another.
Michael and my Master are both staring at me. Michael takes my hand in his.
Richard continues. “You are correct, of course. We demolished that…. institution… towards the end of last year. The reason we demolished it, rather than renovating and rebuilding, is that there were a number of…. scandals… associated with it.”
I say nothing.
Michael silently squeezes my fingers. My Master takes the other hand. “Charlotte, why have you never spoken of any of this? I… Michael and I…, had no idea….”
It is not easy to speak, and I am fighting back a rising tide of panic. “The subject never came up. And since I’ve been with the two of you, always I could enjoy living in the present, or even better, look to the future. I never needed to think about the past.…”
Beth stands up suddenly, her chair scraping back. “Enough, you men! Leave her alone. She’s had enough without you digging and probing.... Let her enjoy her meal.”
For a moment, there is a stunned silence, then Beth turns to Michael. “So, what do you do Michael? Are you an architect or engineer too?”
“No, not me.” he smiles, still holding my hand. “I run ‘Life and Fitness’, down in the West End.”
“Really?” says Richard. “I think Beth uses your services a couple of times a month, don’t you Beth.”
“Yes, I go there with my friends sometimes for a massage, and to use the gym. Perhaps we’ve met before?”
Michael looks at her, with his beautiful blue eyes, shaking his head. “I’m quite sure I would have remembered.”
___________________
The dinner over, Beth stands up. “I’m going to show Charlotte around the house and gardens; have a chat. You three, talk among yourselves. Enjoy your brandy and cigars, or whatever it is men do….”
She hooks an arm through mine and picks up a bottle from the table. “C’mon Charlotte. Let’s leave ‘em to it. I’m dying to have a gossip with you…” Then she scans the table. “In fact, bring that other bottle with you. I don’t think this is going to be a one-bottle-of-wine talk…”
Richard and my Master glance at each other. “Do you think we should be worried?” asks Richard.
“Yes, I think we should.”
Michael sits back in his chair, saying nothing, looking thoughtful.
______________________________
Beth and I sit out on the terrace, overlooking the long, elegant, walled garden. Her eyes are sparkling with mischief. “That should give them something to think about, settle them down a bit don’t you think?”
“Richard won’t be upset about it?”
She shakes her head. “He asked me to get to know you.”
“James is a lovely person you know.”
“I’m sure he is. And Michael?”
“Oh yes, even more so.”
“So…” she leans forward, conspiratorially. “How on earth do you manage with two of them? I’ve got my hands full with one.”
______________________________
One of the wine bottles is empty.
“Let me show you something, Charlotte.” The twinkle in her eyes is wicked. “Come with me. Bring that other bottle of wine.”
She leads me through the long central hallway of the house. As we pass the dining room, we can hear the three men, talking quietly. She looks at me, holding a finger to her lips as we walk silently past.
At the back of the hall is a door, locked. She pulls out a key from a pocket, unlocks it, and leads me down a stone stairway into a basement.
It is beautiful. Down a long corridor, vaulted ceilings arch above us, the stonework clearly old. Doors lead off to either side. We pass scents of wet laundry and oil, but she leads me along, pushing the end door open. “Take a look.” she says with a giggle, reaching round the door to flick on a light switch.
I step inside.
When I see the room, the only thing I can compare it to is the ‘dungeon’ at the club, but whereas that is a copy, here, I am looking at the real thing. The vaulted stone ceilings of the corridor continue through, arching high above us, but now span a large room, perhaps forty feet wide, fifty long. In an old house of this sort, it was perhaps once a meat store. Butchers’ hooks project from the arches that might once have taken animal carcasses. Now, they dangle chains and ropes.
Racks on the walls carry flails, whips, and floggers. The floor is scattered with a variety of padded benches of different sizes and heights. And a huge four poster bed takes up the far end of the room. The only nods to normality are a wine rack on one wall, stacked with dusty bottles, and a large ginger cat snoozing on the bed.
“So, you see,” says Beth, “why Richard was not at all upset, or shocked, to find you in the Club?”
I am sucking in my cheeks, trying to contain my reaction, but at her words, I just burst out laughing, and she with me.
“C’mon.” she says. “Let’s open that other bottle.”
______________________________
Some while later, the second bottle is empty and others are scattered around us. A further bottle is half empty. Beth and I are sitting together, cross-legged on the bed, shrieking with laughter. The cat has settled in my lap. “You mean he actually shaved you? Down there?” I ask, eye-pointing downwards.
“Yup, tied me to the shower head, got me all wound up, and then refused to finish me off unless I agreed to what he wanted…”
I want to ask more, but the door swings open at the far end of the room, my Master, Michael, and Richard, all looking at us as though we are crazy.
Richard strides over, looking down on his wife, arms akimbo. “When I said to have a chat with the girl, I meant in the lounge or the library…” he says, acidly.
“Beth waves her glass at her husband, “If you don’t like it, you shouldn’t have introduced us. Remember, women talk.”
“I’ll be talking to you later.” growls Richard, but there is a glint of humour in his eyes.
Michael looks at the state of the bottles. “You two are going to really regret this in the morning.”
My Master is wandering around the room, wearing a charmed expression. “Well,” he says. “I know what I bought myself when I became a millionaire.” He glances at me, grinning. “Now I know what I’ll buy when I’m a billionaire.” He stands over me, looking down. “You two have enjoyed yourselves. Dare I ask if we have any secrets left? Any of us?”
I hiccup. “Nope. Not many. We’ve had a really good chat haven’t we, Besh?”
“You’re slurring.” says my Master. “Perhaps you’ve had enough to drink?”
“No, don’t think so. I reckon you’re the one who’s had too much. You’re all blurry at the edges.”
“I think you’d better stay overnight.” says Richard. “These two are going to need their beauty sleep.”
______________________________
The following morning, Beth and I feel less like talking. Waiting until he’s not looking, I rummage through Michael’s bag of tricks for pain-killers. He’s bound to have some….
“This what you’re looking for?” says a voice behind me.
Michael is waving a packet at me.
“I thought the two of you would have royal hangovers this morning. You’ll find coffee and juice in the kitchen.”
Beth and I sit across from each other at the table, nursing a black coffee apiece. Our eyes meet, and despite a shocking headache and a rebelling stomach, I giggle. She does the same.
Michael plonks a glass down in front of me, the contents fizzing. “Get that down your neck.”
He passes another one to Beth. Then he pours a saucer of milk, as the cat wanders into the kitchen.
“Anything else I can get you?” he asks. “Nice plate of greasy eggs and ham, perhaps?”
“You could stop that damn cat stomping so loudly.”
_________________
An hour or so
later, black coffee and orange juice having worked their magic, I am feeling much improved.
“So, what is it for the rest of the day?” says Richard. “James, I want to discuss the works on Site C. If it suits you, we might as well do it here, as go to the office.”
“Fine by me.”
Michael says. “I want to pop out, to check things out at the Centre. A surprise visit from the Boss never does any harm.” My Master tosses him car keys.
“Charlotte,” says Beth. “I’m going shopping. Would you like to come with me? If you’re not doing anything else, that is.”
“Erm… Not sure if I’m wanted here…”
I glance at Richard, but he shrugs. “Go enjoy yourselves, since you seem to be getting along so well.” There is an ironic edge to his voice. “Where are you planning on going, Elizabeth?”
“I was thinking of having a mooch around Francesca’s store. Perhaps buy some new Summer clothes; have a coffee in the tea rooms.”
“Expensive then.” says my Master. He slips a card out of his back pocket, and passes it to me. “You know the PIN. Get yourself something nice. I’ve not seen you wearing anything new in weeks.”
_______________________
Francesca’s store is beautiful, but is indeed, very expensive. I gulp at some of the prices, and hold back over the idea of buying anything.
“He did say to get yourself something. He knows perfectly well what things cost in here, Charlotte.”
“Elizabeth, It’s so expensive.”
“It’s Beth, and he can afford it.”
She persuades me to try on a very slinky dress, in a brilliant jade green, to set against my red hair. I have to admit, it looks great on me, and reluctantly I pay for it.
“Hope he likes it at this price.”
Beth casts a sideways glance at me. “Hardly matters really. Looking at you with it on, I don’t think you’ll be wearing it for very long.”
I giggle. It is new to me, having another woman to talk with. Most of the other students at college are guys, and I have no old girlfriends left.
In the coffee bar, we take a table, sitting facing each other, and have high tea; tiny sandwiches with the crusts cut off, and scones with strawberries and cream. It’s delicious, but feels like another world to me.
A couple of men roll in the door, clearly the worse for wear for drinking. We ignore them, but one suddenly points to me and Beth. “Hey, look at them. Must be sisters.”
Beth looks uncomfortable, turning away. The two don’t take the hint. “Hello, Ladies. Mind if we join you?”
Leaning back from the boozy breath blowing my way, “Actually, we do mind. These seats are taken. We’re waiting for our husbands.”
Beth glances at me, questioning my white lie with a look. I widen my eyes at her. There are times we have to do these things.
The louts take no notice. “Pair of lookers like you. Shouldn’t be sitting by yourselves like this.” One of them starts to paw at Beth. She says nothing, but looks upset and pulls away.
Why doesn’t she tell him to leave her alone?
But she doesn’t. The lout starts stroking her arm. Shrinking from him, she stares at the floor. “Leave her alone,” I say, “her husband won’t like it.”
He ignores me, continuing to rub his fingers up and down the immaculate chiffon of Beth’s blouse.
“Leave her alone.” I hiss. “Get your grubby paws off her.”
“Who’s gonna make me? You?” he sneers. “Anyway, Tommy here fancies you.”
As he speaks, the yahoo next to me makes a bid for a feel, but I jab sideways, hard, with my elbow into his ribs. He grunts. “You little bitch…” he roars, and turns to make a grab at me.
At the same moment, the other one makes a lunge for Beth. I stand, and over the table, punch for his face. I catch him squarely, and with coffee pot, scones and cream scattering in all directions, uproar breaks out….
_________________
Beth and I sit together in the cell, holding hands. Being in here is not pleasant, and we are sitting as far away as we can from two teenage girls who are semi-conscious on some form of drug, and another one who is high on something else.
There is the rattle of keys, and a guard unlocks the door.
“You and you.” he says, jabbing a finger at me and Beth, as he holds the door open.
Out in the office are Richard, my Master, and Ross.
Haswell is incandescent. “Ross, please accompany my wife back to the car if you would. Take her straight home.” The look he gives me is one of pure fury.
My Master looks down at me “What the hell happened, Charlotte?” he mutters at me as we follow the enraged Haswell out of the building. But I don’t get a chance to reply as Haswell points a finger at a car parked up nearby. “In the back.” he barks at me.
The drive is silent. Back in the building, he marches me up to his office, pointing me to stand in front of his desk. He sits but does not invite me to do so.
Jabbing a finger towards me, “You may feel that you can break all the conventional rules, Miss Conners, but when I am obliged to bail my wife out of the city jail because of your behaviour….”
“Sir, I….”
“Did I invite you to speak?”
I bite my lip, hanging my head. “I am informed,” he continues, “that you assaulted a customer in the coffee room. The hospital reports a broken nose and contusions….”
The door bursts open. Beth is there.
“Elizabeth… I told you to go straight home. Where’s Ross…...?”
“Ross tells me you are holding Charlotte to blame for what happened. I told him to bring me here.”
“Ross takes his orders from me.”
“Not on this occasion, while you have Charlotte standing there like that.”
“I was requiring an explanation of her.”
“The explanation, if you bothered to ask politely, is that two thugs were trying to molest me, and Charlotte put up a fight on my behalf.”
My Master looks at me. “Charlotte, you didn’t….”
Beth continues. “The one who was trying to grope me, she hit him in the face. She landed him a punch that any professional would be proud of. It’s not her fault if the security guard was too pig-headed to find out who did what, before he called the police.”
My Master looks down, shaking with laughter.
Haswell looks stunned. Speaking slowly, he says, “It seems I owe you an apology, Charlotte. I assumed…”
“Beth was frightened.” I say. “I could see that. She doesn’t know how to look after herself the way I do.”
My Master interrupts. “You will find that Charlotte feels strongly on the subject of men who won’t take a hint. The last time I saw her do something like this, a man, six inches taller than she is, wouldn’t take ‘No’ for an answer. She felled him with a single blow.”
Haswell finally thaws out completely. His eyes crinkle up in humour. “You mean, this has happened before?”
Embarrassed. I mutter “I just believe in sticking up for myself….”
Haswell bursts out laughing. He turns to my Master. “And you paid for this woman?”
My Master coils an arm around my waist, kissing the top of my head. “Worth every cent.”
Richard looks at his wife. “Elizabeth, will you please go home now.”
As she turns to leave, she looks at me. “Thanks, Charlotte.”
Richard turns to me. “Sit down for God’s sake, the pair of you.” He looks me in the eye. “You’re right of course. Elizabeth is a gentle soul. She needs protection. You, I think, are made of tougher stuff. You are much more….”
My Master breaks in. “Self-reliant?”
“’Feral’ is the word I was thinking of….”
He ponders for a moment. “Mmmm… Perhaps we can make this work for us. If you’re going to be spending time out on-site, which you surely are, it does no harm to have a reputation for not taking any rubbish from the men around you.�
�
“On-site?”
“Yes, on-site. You want to see the Project, don’t you? You’ve only seen the plans, and around the offices so far.”
“I’d love to.”
“Come on then. I’ll give you a tour.”
___________________________________
On the Project Site, Haswell shows me around, comparing what I see on the ground, to what shows in the plans.
Perhaps it is his apology for misreading me earlier. He is the soul of courtesy, pointing out where old sweat shops and slums have gone, to be replaced by the upcoming, sleek and modern homes; where the Bridge, designed by my Master, will span the river; the foundations and pilings already being laid. After a while, he is called away, his attention needed on some snag. “Go wherever you want, Charlotte.” he says. “See everything.”
I trail behind surveyors and engineers, following their tracks, trying to interpret groundworks, and transform them in my head into the soaring City I saw in the model.
Bulldozers are shifting huge tracts of rubble, crushing and flattening it, to lay the groundwork for the next phase of the building works. The old road layout is all but gone. Only because I know where I am, is any of it recognisable.
Feeling like a spare part, I wander around a bit, before coming to something I recognise; the remains of a timber sign, a notice board. Half smashed, and the paint peeling away, I can still read the letters ‘Blessingm….’ Half an image of a cartoon meadow, with butterflies and birds flitting about with fake cartoon smiles, rots off the surface of the timber.
Shivering, I fight down nausea.
There is a hand on my shoulder, and I startle, violently. Spinning to face it, it is my Master, holding up both hands, apologetically, almost warding me off. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
He looks down at the board by my feet, his expression disturbed.
“Are you going to tell me about it?”
“Yes.” But the words stick in my throat.
Tell him.
He waits, then, “When you’re ready, Charlotte.”
He hooks an arm around my waist, his head resting close to mine.
“Charlotte, there’s something I want to ask you, and I promise, that no matter what your answer, I will not be angry with you, nor will I think less of you. But, I do want to ask this.”