by Lynn Watson
‘Very true, we have and we will. Whatever happens, even if we don’t… even if…’ Her voice tailed off mid-sentence and she lowered her feet from the chair, swinging it back to face the desk.
Fran leapt straight in again. ‘Seriously though, Vicky, it is alarming, isn’t it, arson? Would a commercial rival go that far? And if it is Infrared, is he trying to get Daniela’s cooperation or drive her out of business?’
‘I can’t say, but I’ve come to the conclusion, from all my experience, that the dividing line between risk-taking and criminality is perilously thin. The legitimate economy, the one we hear about, is the tip of the iceberg. It’s even more the case now, with globalisation and the volume of trade and business carried out online. There’s always been a crossover between the legal economy, the borderline legal economy and the black market. The bottom line is that everyone involved is interested in making money. It’s the number-one global addiction, outrunning and driving everything. It’s not altogether true but it seems as if every legal activity has its dark side, to a greater or lesser extent. It applies to chocolate as much as anything else, but with Junoco, we have to stay the right side of the line, and I still believe that’s what we do.’
‘Christ, Vicky, how the hell do you work all that out? It hangs together when you think of the people Daniela chose to invite to the party, the lawyers and accountants, but it’s a pretty bleak assessment of humanity, isn’t it?’
It was also an eloquent expression of what she had been thinking about lately: the blurring of the legitimate and illegitimate worlds.
‘Don’t get me wrong, Fran. I’m not saying that people don’t have other motives, ideals even. Like with Junoco, we think of more imagination and curiosity as a good thing for the world, although we know it can easily be misused. And the researchers in South America hope to make their reputation as respected scientists. But we all want to make money from it, and hopefully good money, quickly. We can’t wait around until Junoco’s been officially tested and declared safe, ethical and effective because it will be too late. We’ll have lost our edge.’
Vicky peered forward to study the information on the computer screen, which was full of numbers and fizzing with activity. ‘Hey, someone’s just bought a hundred boxes, twelve hundred truffles, and we haven’t any idea who it is. It could be a student planning to sell them in a college or hall of residence. This new site will spawn plenty of new small businesses like that, believe me, and the entrepreneurs behind them will make money and feel oh so cool and clever.’
‘Or it could be someone sorting out their Christmas presents all in one go, with a box of Junoco for Santa next to his mince pie!’ Fran paused. ‘I need to ask you something else, Vicky, it’s bothering me. Do you trust Daniela? Is she being straight with us?’
‘I think she’s a talented businesswoman. I’ve always admired her for that and I wouldn’t be working for her otherwise. She’s also tough, which goes with it, and the people who think they can mess around with her should watch out. I don’t believe she’s dishonest and I’m reasonably sure she wouldn’t cheat us, but she thinks about what she is and isn’t going to disclose. What I can say, which might help to reassure you, is that I did some more in-depth investigation, going back through the email trail and checking out facts on the South American side, and I’m happy that it’s all pukka. It is only the berry seed and not some iffy unknown concoction.’
‘Okay, thanks, that does help. I’ve read lots of different things and they’ve got mixed up in my mind – the performance-enhancing drugs and the legal highs and the brain-boosting food and drink. It all crosses over, like you were saying.’
‘Well, it does to an extent but it’s up to us to keep clear of the bad guys and maintain a good image.’ She stopped and tilted her head, listening. ‘Who’s this now, coming up the stairs?’
Fran froze momentarily and then relaxed when she saw Ned’s face peering round the door. Vicky had met him for the first time in the past week, and she gestured for him to come in.
‘Ned, it’s you, you startled us. We’re jumpy enough as it is, what with Daniela flying in and out like an angry bluebottle.’
‘Hi, good, you’re both here. You’ve heard about the fire at the factory, then? Daniela sent a message but now I can’t get hold of her to find out what’s going on.’
They filled him in on the little news they had. He didn’t betray any obvious anxiety, but Fran knew his behaviour well enough to note small signs. At least, she reminded herself, she hoped she knew him well enough; that she could still have confidence in him.
‘What about your premises, Ned, the distribution centre? Is it okay?’
‘Yes, I’ve phoned to check and there’s been no unusual activity. Daniela won’t call the police and she’ll make her own decisions about how to deal with it. If we have to relocate the distribution centre, I’ve a couple of other options in my back pocket. To tell the truth, I am concerned but not that surprised.’
Fran looked from Ned to Vicky and back again. They were so self-assured and knew things that were foreign to her, things she had missed all these years, despite her own sporadic questionable behaviour. Suddenly a random memory surfaced: that time she visited a show home where her company had provided the furniture. She was inspecting it with a young man from the property company and they walked round the house together, room to room, being unprofessionally flirtatious. She had even bounced on a bed to test the springs.
As they were driving back to his office he had said, in a confiding tone,
‘When we walked into that house, I was terrified you would try and seduce me. And when we came out, I was mortified that you hadn’t.’
Vicky was flicking her fingers to get Fran’s attention. ‘Hey, you’re miles away! I was saying I’m going to go now and leave you two to talk. The website is running beautifully and I’ve been called to fix a problem with one of my other tech projects. I’ll call you tomorrow, Fran, and we’ll organise our own private launch celebration.’
Ned watched her leave and then looked up at the wall clock. ‘What have you got me into, Fran? It’s your fault and you owe me a lunch. You must know the pubs round here by now.’
This was plainly the wrong way round; he owed her lunch, but she decided to go along with it for now.
They walked over to the Green Duck, now her favourite pub, which maintained a display of unseasonably abundant flowers in its winter hanging baskets. As they entered, she was still unsure if she would challenge Ned about that night in town. She wanted to hear his account, but she feared it could kill off their evenings together. Then again, was it wise to carry on without knowing what he was up to, now she had inadvertently stumbled on it?
‘Ned, there’s something I want to ask you. It might be awkward.’
He looked curious, as well as taken aback at her serious tone. ‘Okay, go ahead, shoot.’
‘Well, the thing is, it was completely random, this, but… I was out with Vicky in Leicester Square, not this Saturday, the one before, and—’
‘Ooh, you saw me there, strutting in all my finery. So much for discretion! Were you at the premiere too, you and Vicky?’
‘No, we were on our way to a party.’
She suddenly had a vivid recollection of the cute army officer and the passionate kiss they exchanged before she left the party. Was that Paul, who had written on her arm? Why had she erased his number so quickly? Why hadn’t he called her; did he have her number?
‘Well, I don’t mind telling you, Fran, and you’ve probably guessed anyway. I was on hire that night, working for an agency. I signed up a year ago and I’ve done two or three jobs a month, that’s all. I’ve had a few fun jobs, like that night at the film, but it can be dull and hard going.’
‘I can well imagine.’
‘No, really, I mean it – and often it’s a goodbye peck on the cheek and that’s it. I think you and I could do a whole lot better; we would attract a different clientele and make it far more interesting,
if we set up our male escort business. We talked about it, remember, the first time we tried Junoco?’
‘I certainly do remember the conversation and I wondered at the time how come you knew so much about it.’
‘Well anyway, it doesn’t interfere, does it? I mean, I love our twosome dinner parties and I’m still thinking we’d make good business partners, in the escort field or in something else, something that spins off from Junoco, perhaps…’
Fran was happier now, relieved that she had come out with it and that he had been direct in his answer. It could be a clever ruse, of course. He might still turn out to be a secret agent.
‘I love our private dinner parties too, Ned, really I do. I don’t want to spoil it.’
She smiled back at him sweetly, thinking, have I gone stark raving mad?
***
Andy drove up to London in his builder’s van, as he was going on the next day to install a new bathroom at a friend’s house in Essex. Fran was watching from the window and when she saw the van turning the corner, she went out to make sure he found a nearby parking space. Lily was dawdling along the street on her way home from school, trailing her hand over the untidy front hedges.
‘Hello, Fran, did Marcus tell you two more cats have gone missing? I don’t believe they’ve been run over or moved to live somewhere else. I think someone’s stealing them, to sell them or do horrible things to them, like experiments.’
By this time, Andy had parked the van down the street and was crossing over towards them.
‘Oh, Lily, they don’t do that to pet cats, but it is strange, I agree. Look, my friend’s just arrived. Do you want to come over after school tomorrow? I’m at home all afternoon.’
Andy was standing close to her now, playing with his keys and smiling in that self-conscious way of his. Lily gave him one of the dubious looks she specialised in when it came to first encounters with Fran’s friends.
‘Okay then. See you tomorrow. I’ll bring Sahara with me.’
Fran hoped that seeing Andy at her place would be more relaxed than at the cottage. Not the sex but the conversation, which was often stilted and broken by uneasy silences. Maybe their love of Judi had other feelings mixed in with it, of course it did, or his grief made him emotionally detached from everything else. She was conscious that Judi had wanted them to go on holiday together. She should suggest a city break, after which they would part and go their own separate ways, or just see each other occasionally on a friendship basis. Falling in love with him wasn’t an option, and neither was it what she wanted. Their lifestyles and circumstances were poles apart and anyway, it would be disloyal to Judi, to put it mildly.
She shut the door and they exchanged a coy look, pretending to be embarrassed rather than emboldened by the fierce passion of the time in the cottage and their enthusiasm for more. He waited, content to let her eyes slide up and down his body, undressing him already.
‘Would sir like to go straight to the boudoir? I have sent up wine and chocolates.’
She took his hand and led him upstairs. It was different from her sense of anticipation with Ned, more single-mindedly lustful and less all-round sensual. She didn’t want it to go too fast, this time. She had placed the wrapped Junoco truffles on the pillows and the sparkling wine was in a metal ice bucket on the bedside table.
‘We only offer these chocolates to our elite guests. They’re ultra-special and we don’t want the rest of the world to know about it.’
Andy smiled but wasn’t inclined to get into role as a fawned-over hotel guest. He picked up a truffle and held it to the light. ‘Is it an aphrodisiac?’
‘Yes. The formula is based on a wholly natural—’
‘I’ll try it, Fran – your word’s good enough. I can’t tell you how many mystery white powders and other stuff I’ve taken, especially since Judi got ill and was ordering pills and potions online, but before that too, long before. It’s probably mad not to know what they’ve put in it but if it helps us all survive and get through, that’s fine with me.’
They lounged half-dressed on the bed and ate the two blue-wrapped truffles.
‘It’s very sharp,’ said Andy. ‘I wouldn’t choose it, too bitter for me.’
‘I know, it is really strong, first time. It’s an acquired taste, that’s what I’ve found. Now I like it better than the normal types in the shops – and they’re getting richer too, the expensive varieties for aficionados, true chocolate lovers.’
‘Is that what I am – your chocolate lover?’
‘Yes, that’s exactly what you are, pure and unadulterated.’
An hour or two later, she emerged from her trancelike state and wriggled her toes. Sex was so absurd, the ultimate confection of the sublime and the ridiculous. She untwined her legs from Andy’s and he shifted towards the edge of the bed.
‘Are you awake, Andy? Shall we go down and think about dinner?’
He rolled over towards her and stroked her arm. ‘I’m seeing shapes whirling in green space, extraordinary bright colours.’
When they entered the living room, Guacamole appeared to wink at Fran over his glasses. Any day now, she expected him to engage in conversation, to reply to her like Dad used to do. And it wasn’t only Guacamole. Other creatures were responding too, including Kwesi’s carved antelope, which had pride of place on the mantelpiece. As she stared at it now, the spiral antlers dipped and it bowed its head a fraction, too subtly for anyone to notice. She looked across at Andy, who was oblivious. He was still experiencing cascading shapes and vibrant colours but didn’t report any other effects as they spent the evening listening to a selection of Judi’s best-loved music.
In her dream that night, she was in a forest, watching a tiger stalking a stag with huge antlers. The tiger had to wait until the stag stopped moving towards it and turned away. As it did so, the tiger crouched down and crept forward. The stag lifted and turned its head, lowered its antlers and charged into the undergrowth, goring the tiger fatally down one side. Fran backed away, trying not to draw the stag’s attention, and fell over a pile of branches into a sun-filled glade, which was set up as a laboratory. The scientists were in protective suits and goggles and she immediately knew it was a brain lab, with each group of scientists experimenting on a different method of brain enhancement. In one corner was a wicker basket full of wailing cats, and above it, a hanging cage of mice and rats with long wires stuck in their heads. That’s not right, she said to herself. Those are pet cats; they wouldn’t experiment on them.
With that thought, she became alert to the noise of a real cat yowling in the street. She got up to see if it was the missing Marmalade and if not, to scare it away. It was an unknown cat crouched on her wall, head up to yowl again, while its antagonist was hidden under a car or might have run off.
Andy stirred and asked the time.
‘It’s shortly after six. Sorry if I woke you but it was the cats fighting outside, they got into my dream. Maybe we have a rogue cat on the loose, scaring them all, and that’s why they are disappearing one by one.’
She wanted to draw the dramatic scene of the tiger and the stag straight away, to try and catch the spirit of it.
Andy reached over the side of the bed to pick up two pillows from the floor.
‘It looks like you’ve been having your own catfight, Andy, with those pillows.’
‘Mine was a bad dream, a nightmare,’ he replied. ‘I thought I was awake, but I couldn’t move a muscle and there was a horrible thing bearing down on me. It was standing at the end of the bed, a black-cloaked figure but I knew it wasn’t human. Next it was on my chest, forcing me to lie petrified, threatening me and making it almost impossible to breathe.’
This was the classic description of a night terror, which Fran had come across in her reading but had never experienced directly. It happened when the mind and body were out of sync and didn’t wake up at the same time. The creepiness of it was the consistent features: the downward force on the chest and the overpowering
presence of a supernatural and hostile creature. She wondered if Andy had experienced it before, like Cerise and her sleepwalking.
‘Never, and I don’t want to experience it again, ever. It was terrifying, honestly. I’ll have to stay clear of your fabulous magic chocolates, if that’s what they do to me.’
Fran nodded sympathetically, not wanting to show too much concern about this reaction to Junoco. She suggested going to the café on the corner for breakfast, before he set off for Essex and the bathroom job. He wasn’t keen to do it now, but it was a promise and the friend wanted the work carried out while she was on holiday. She had ordered everything ready for his arrival and he was expecting it to take three or four days, as the space was very cramped.
It was past eight when they arrived at the café, and Fran had to be in the shop before nine. Vicky was ensconced in her favourite corner with her laptop, as Fran had half-expected, and she soon came across to join them. It felt good to introduce them properly and show Andy something of her life in London, especially today when he was more animated than usual, despite the night terror. At first they talked about Junoco and then Andy moved on to asking questions: what they liked about the city, and why neither of them would prefer to live in a village by the sea.
After they had parted with Andy and he went back to Fran’s for his van, she and Vicky walked the short distance to the shop.
‘He’s lovely, Fran. You can see the sadness in his eyes, but he seemed quite lively just now – obviously your influence.’
‘Yes, and we had a Junoco session as well, which probably helped him lose his shyness with you. But what news on the arson attack, Vicky? Have you seen Daniela, got any more scraps of information? Are we still set to have a launch party?’
‘Nothing on the fire itself, what or who caused it, that’s clearly off limits. Apparently, she’s found another farm building that’s more or less ready to move into and that will work as the new factory. As for the party, the word is that it’s going to be a smaller event now and we probably won’t be invited.’