Joe studied her. She was a little plain, as the nanny at Eaton Square had described. He automatically glanced at her chest. She appeared to be trying to cover it, as if embarrassed, hunching forward on the sofa with her arms up, her chin resting on her palms as she studied the carpet. As far as he could see, she had a very full pair of breasts, more than would have been produced by a padded bra if she had had her breasts ‘stolen’.
‘Doris is a very good girl’, Maisie announced.
‘I’m sure she is,’ Joe replied, uncertain what he could say that wouldn’t sound patronising.
A waiter appeared at Maisie’s shoulder. ‘Can I get you a drink, Madam?’ he asked.
‘Oh, a drink,’ Maisie gave a tiny, delighted clap of her hands at the thought. ‘What shall I have?’
‘Can I get Madam a nice chilled glass of champagne?’ the waiter suggested and Joe’s heart gave a little lurch. Would he have enough money to cover this? If he ended up having to count coins out of his various pockets he was going to ruin his image as the smooth American abroad.
‘Yes, champagne, and a Coca Cola for my friend.’
Joe could hear a faint ringing somewhere. Someone’s phone was cutting into the tranquil murmur of the hotel guests as they gathered for the evening. Only on the third ring did he realise that it was his.
‘Excuse me,’ he said, pulling it out of his pocket.
‘Dad?’ Hugo’s voice sounded distant and forlorn. ‘I’m at school. Mum’s gone and I don’t like it here. I want to go home.’
Joe felt sick at the sound of his child’s unhappiness. He racked his brain for the appropriate thing to say. ‘Where are you calling from?’ he asked, lamely.
‘There’s a call box,’ Hugo said. ‘Outside matron’s office. I’ve only got twenty pence. I want you to come and get me.’
‘I can’t do that, fella,’ Joe said, aware that Maisie was fidgeting irritably at this interruption. ‘You’ve gotta give it a few days. You’ve gotta be brave. Once you’ve found some friends and had a few games of football you’ll be fine. Just get a good night’s sleep tonight and call me again tomorrow. Things will look better in the morning, I promise.’
There was a click and the line went dead. Hugo’s money had run out.
‘I’m sorry about that.’ Joe forced himself not to think of his little son, alone and lost in a school full of echoing corridors and shouting strangers, not knowing whom to trust or where to turn to for comfort. He wished he could have thought of something better to say to the boy than the clichés he had come up with. The waiter brought the women their drinks and Maisie got straight back down to business.
‘Doris is a good girl,’ she said again. ‘She is from Manila where she worked for an English Lord. He was very sad she decided to go, but she wanted to better herself and work for a gentleman in London. She is very anxious to please her employers.’ Maisie inclined her head very slightly towards Joe, as if to imply that he was that chosen gentleman.
Joe turned to Doris who hadn’t shifted from her crouched position. ‘How do you like London so far, Doris?’
‘Very nice,’ she said, in a whisper.
‘It’s an exciting town, isn’t it?’ He wanted to put her at her ease, but he could see that addressing her directly was making her more nervous. She cast confused looks at Maisie, who appeared unbothered.
‘When will your house be ready for Doris to move in?’ she asked.
‘Ah, well, that’s a good question,’ Joe gave what he hoped was a good-natured chuckle. ‘You know what builders are like. Once you get them in it’s hard to get them out again.’
‘Doris could move in while they are still working. She could get the house cleaned up for you to arrive.’
‘I think it’s a little too much of a mess for that. It really is still a building site,’ Joe said, hurriedly.
‘Doris doesn’t mind,’ Maisie insisted.
‘Well, give me a little time to think about it.’
‘You want to meet other girls before you make up your mind?’ Maisie asked, lighting herself a cigarette which looked incongruously long between her miniature fingers and drew attention to the unnatural size of her nails. ‘You can meet more but Doris is best. I pick her for you from all the girls on our books because she is the hardest worker. She is willing to do whatever you ask her. You need new builders? Interior decorators?’ She had changed her tack. ‘We can handle all that for you. Complete service.’
‘That’s great,’ Joe beamed, his mind still drifting back to Hugo.
‘You like her?’ Maisie snapped.
‘Sure.’ Joe looked across at Doris and smiled. It was wasted, her eyes were still on the floor. ‘She seems very nice.’
‘Ask her any question you like.’
‘Do you cook?’ Joe asked.
Doris nodded.
‘She cooks American style,’ Maisie butted in. ‘All my girls trained to do steak and chips and hamburgers just as good as stir fry. Cook, clean,’ she paused. ‘Keep you company. She’ll do anything you ask. Very reasonable wages. You want to discuss money now?’
‘I was recommended to you by some friends of mine,’ Joe shifted the subject. He felt uncomfortable talking in front of the girl about the price which Maisie was going to put on her head. ‘The Montgomerys.’
‘You want to know her wages?’ Maisie was not going to be knocked off course that easily.
‘Do you know the Montgomerys?’ Nor was Joe.
‘Yes.’ She sounded impatient. ‘I know them. Very good clients.’
‘Their girl disappeared, I believe. She was called Doris too.’
‘They complaining?’ Every sinew in Maisie’s exquisite little body had tightened in preparation for a fight. ‘They have no cause to complain. I find them another girl if they want one. She was a good worker, and very cheap. Not the agency’s fault she disappears. Probably some man, fall in love and not know how to say. They tell you they want new girl?’ Her English noticeably slipped as she became more agitated.
‘No, they haven’t said anything to me.’ Joe smiled pleasantly. He felt that for a second he had gained the upper hand. She sounded nervous, defensive even. There was a scent of danger around her, as if she might jump forward and implant her nails in his face if he wasn’t careful. ‘They are just neighbours of mine, really. I was chatting to them. You know how it is when you first arrive in a new neighbourhood, you want to pick up tips, useful names and addresses.’
‘Neighbours, eh?’ Maisie relaxed a little. ‘They live in Eaton Square. Yes?’
‘Yes,’ Joe agreed.
‘Good address.’ She nodded approvingly.
‘How old are you?’ Joe asked Doris.
‘She’s young and strong and all her papers in order,’ Maisie answered for her. ‘You will be very satisfied. You want to talk about wages? You pay deposit of one thousand pounds with agency. Then you pay us one thousand pounds a month. She lives in your house. She is your responsibility to feed. Not a problem, she not eat much.’
‘The Montgomerys told me I wouldn’t have to pay that much,’ Joe bluffed.
Maisie made an annoyed clicking sound at such indiscretion amongst clients. ‘They get good deal. Costs go up. Okay. You have Doris one thousand deposit, seven fifty a month. Best deal in town.’
‘I don’t see why I should pay more than the Montgomerys,’ Joe persisted. ‘Your costs are your problem, not mine.’
‘Okay,’ Maisie snapped angrily. ‘You pay me five hundred deposit and five hundred a month.’
‘Four hundred, and I think I would be more comfortable paying Doris direct,’ Joe said, aware that he was being mischievous.
‘Not possible,’ Maisie said. ‘Agency rules. We handle all the money for the staff. It’s our policy. We have overheads. Four hundred a month but you pay us.’
‘Well, the rates seem very reasonable,’ Joe said.
‘Best in town. No one can match us. Other agencies cheaper but their girls steal and lie and lazy. Not hard wor
kers.’
‘Well, I’ll need to think about it. I’m not quite ready to commit.’
‘Give us a deposit and then Doris will wait until your house is ready. If not, then someone else will hire her. She’s good, strong girl. Someone else will hire her for sure.’
‘I’m sure they will. But I’m afraid I’ll just have to take that risk,’ Joe said. ‘Let me think about it and ring you in a week.’
‘May be too late,’ Maisie’s tone was hardening like steel. ‘Pay deposit now, no more worries. Doris wait for you to call and tell her you want her. Best service in London, advertised in The Lady and Tatler and all top magazines. Give me down-payment of four hundred pounds, pay rest later.’
‘May I ring you back once I have the house straight?’ Joe said. ‘Please excuse me,’ he stood up. ‘I have another appointment.’ He held out his hand for Doris. She looked surprised and then took it. Maisie did likewise and held onto his hand tightly, like a child determined to drag a reluctant adult into a playground.
‘Don’t make a mistake, Mister Weston. Girls as good as Doris are very hard to find. Don’t make a mistake and lose her. Give me two hundred and fifty pounds now and pay rest when she starts.’
‘I’ll call you.’ Joe pulled his hand away. He felt a chill running through him as Maisie’s impassive face stared up at him. There appeared to be no human being behind the eyes.
He turned abruptly on his heel, unable to think of a more gracious way to end the interview, and walked out of the bar. As he came into the entrance hall he saw a flash of pink hair going past between two men. Both men looked like businessmen with dark suits, sober ties and raincoats over their arms. Both seemed to be making a point of not looking around them as they walked. They were men with a purpose.
It took him a second to register what he had seen and by the time he turned round Cordelia was disappearing around the pillars towards the lifts. He opened his mouth to call out and then thought better of it. He wanted to get out of the building before Maisie caught up with him, and there was something about the two men Cordelia was with that suggested they would not like to be hailed by a complete stranger in a public place. She didn’t look as if she was wanting to be rescued.
All these thoughts raced through his brain in just a few seconds and it wasn’t until he had reached the street and was walking briskly down Knightsbridge that he realised he had not paid for the drinks. That was not likely to endear him to Maisie, but it was a relief to still have the cash in his pocket. He dived into a pub and bought himself a beer and a burger to celebrate. He didn’t want to go back to the flat yet. He wanted to think about his son, even though he knew it would make him unhappy.
CHAPTER SIX
The cheque fluttered out of the envelope and landed in a small pool of coffee on the kitchen table. Joe picked it up and dabbed it dry with his dressing-gown sleeve before reading it. He was deliberately delaying the moment of discovering how much it was for, aware that it would almost certainly be a disappointment, and allowing himself the luxury of a few moments of wild fantasising.
When he did finally focus on them, the figures took his breath away. Adele was sending him over ten thousand pounds. He pulled the rest of the paperwork out of the envelope. It seemed that the book he had done with the SAS corporal had started earning royalties abroad sooner than expected.
For a few minutes the exultation of having money made him forget the knot of depression which had been in his stomach ever since the call from Hugo the previous evening. He was carrying the phone around with him everywhere he went, even into the bathroom, determined to be there to take any other calls his son might make.
‘Joe, old man,’ Angus interrupted his thoughts. ‘Rather embarrassing.’
‘Angus,’ Joe’s mind was racing. ‘I am so sorry. My bank has just told me that they’ve bounced that cheque I gave you. I can’t believe they would do such a thing. I am so angry. I have a good mind to change to another bank.’
‘I…’ Angus tried to interrupt but Joe didn’t give him a chance.
‘As soon as I’m dressed we’ll go down to my branch together and I’ll give you the money in cash. I can pay this in at the same time.’ He gestured casually at the cheque, giving Angus enough time to register the long row of figures before whipping it away and stuffing it into his pocket.
‘Give me five minutes to pull some clothes on and I’ll come and collect you.’
He rushed into his room and closed the door, leaving Angus standing in the middle of the kitchen with his mouth open.
‘What I was actually going to say,’ Angus said, quarter of an hour later, as they were strolling down the Earls Court Road to Joe’s bank, ‘was that I had a call from your friend’s mother.’
‘My friend?’ Joe’s mind was elsewhere.
‘Cordelia Jones.’
‘Cordelia’s mother? She rang you?’
‘Yes. Apparently Cordelia gave her my number because she thought my ‘posh’ voice would put her mother’s mind at rest about her moving into the flat.’
‘And did it?’
‘I don’t think so. She threatened to send the police round. Seemed to think I was some sort of pimp, hoping to sell her daughter’s services to the entire population of West London.’
‘She said that?’
‘I can’t remember exactly what she said. It was all somewhat of a tirade. I dropped your name in, hoping that would calm her down.’
‘And I guess it didn’t?’
‘If anything it made it worse. She said you were just one of her ex-husband’s lackeys. That you were probably sleeping with her daughter already, possibly had been ever since she was fourteen.’
‘Oh. Sorry, Angus. I had no idea she would phone you. I’ve never met the woman. I won’t mind if you want to tell Cordelia the deal’s off.’
‘I suppose I could,’ Angus sounded doubtful. ‘But I had a little flutter at the bookmakers yesterday and I’ve rather committed that money she gave me. I wouldn’t necessarily want to have to return it.’
‘Ah,’ Joe nodded his understanding. ‘Well, we’ll just have to take our chances with Rita, then.’
‘Rita?’
‘Cordelia’s mother.’
‘Ah. Is that her name?’ Angus looked distinctly worried. ‘She sounded remarkably fierce.’
Once the cheque had been banked, a short-term overdraft agreed, and Angus had been paid, Joe went in search of a car. The call from Hugo the previous evening had made him realise how cut off they were from one another. If his son was in a school in the countryside of Sussex, Joe needed to be able to get to him within a couple of hours at least, without having to rely on trains and taxis or car hire firms. He bought himself an early edition of the Evening Standard and sat down with a cup of coffee and a felt-tip.
Two hours later he was sitting in a prim Chelsea kitchen, writing out a cheque to a rich man’s wife who wanted to get rid of her Fiat Panda quickly in order to raise the money for a holiday with a girlfriend. The car was ten years old but had lived all its life in a locked garage and looked as if it had just been driven out of the showroom. Joe felt pleased with himself. The woman seemed to be totally confident that his cheque wouldn’t bounce and waved happily as he drove the car away, having insured it through her broker – apparently a family friend. Once you have money in your pocket, Joe thought, things just start to fall into place.
He set off down the King’s Road with the window down, watching the girls go by as the traffic chugged forward at less than a walking pace. When the phone rang in his pocket it made his stomach lurch. He dreaded hearing whatever Hugo had to say.
What would he do if the boy pleaded to be taken away from the school again? What would be the correct paternal response? He didn’t see why Hugo should have to endure the place if it made him unhappy. But shouldn’t he at least be encouraged to give it a go? And if he did want to come out, would Fliss ever agree? If she didn’t, would he be able to have Hugo live with him, so that he could get him
to and from a day school each day?
All these thoughts sped through his mind as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the phone. Fliss’ voice took him by surprise. Hugo must have given her the mobile number.
‘What the fuck are you playing at?’ she demanded. ‘I’ve had the school on the line. You were supposed to pay the fees by the first day of term. Are you determined to ruin your son’s life? I’ve had to lie for you. I said you’ve been travelling and have only just got back to London. You’ve got to sort it out.’
For a moment he considered telling her that Hugo had called, but then thought better of it. He would use the fees as a reason to drive down to the school. He would be able to see Hugo and decide what needed to be done. If he said anything to Fliss about Hugo being unhappy she would take it as a criticism of the way she was bringing him up and would go on the attack. He needed to find out the situation for himself before he started a war.
‘I’ll take the cheque in personally today,’ he said. ‘Sorry. I’ve had a few things on my mind.’
‘Pity one of them wasn’t your son,’ she snapped and hung up.
Joe swung the car down a side street and headed back towards Earls Court to fetch a map and the necessary paperwork. He felt faintly sick, partly with anger at Fliss’ tone, and partly with guilt at having let his son down.
The boys were filing out from lunch as he walked into the school office and asked to see the bursar. He tried to spot Hugo, but they all looked frighteningly alike in their uniforms and passed too quickly for him to be sure what he had seen.
The building must once have been a stately home. He guessed it had been built by some Victorian merchant, keen to show off his new wealth. Every feature of the place, from the gargoyles curling out over the giant, studded oak front doors, to the dark panelling and tall, tightly latticed windows, seemed to have been designed to overawe an unprepared visitor. If it had this effect on him, he thought, what effect would it have on a small child leaving home for the first time?
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