Pretty Little Packages

by Andrew Crofts

  ‘Very nice. Would you give me a lift back to London? I’ll leave Joe here with my car keys and he can run your wife back once they’ve seen the boy.’

  Paolo looked unsure about the suggestion, but Rod was already lifting him out of the sofa.

  ‘I think it would be best, don’t you?’

  Paolo shot a look at Fliss, who nodded, through her tears. ‘You go ahead, darling,’ she said. ‘I’ll be back home as soon as we’ve seen Hugo.’

  ‘See you later, mate,’ Rod said as he made his way past Joe with Paolo. ‘Told you it’d be okay, didn’t I?’

  ‘You did. Thanks for all your help. I’ll ring you this evening and we’ll do some more work tomorrow.’

  As the helicopter took off in a storm of noise, and the various school and police officials busied themselves with other tasks, Joe and Fliss were left alone, in silence, each considering the enormity of their relief.

  ‘I suppose you think this is my fault,’ Fliss said eventually.

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘You don’t have to. I know your opinion about boarding schools.’

  ‘Is that why you didn’t ask for my opinion before enrolling him?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so. Is he really being bullied?’

  ‘So he says.’

  ‘He wouldn’t lie.’

  ‘No.’

  They fell silent for a few moments.

  ‘What do you think I should do?’ Fliss asked eventually. ‘There isn’t a decent day school within reach of the house in the country.’

  ‘Isn’t there a day school in London he can go to?’

  ‘Have you any idea how competitive the decent schools in London are?’ she asked, her voice on the edge of hysteria. ‘He probably wouldn’t get in.’

  ‘Don’t you think he might need some special-needs coaching? There must be little schools which specialise in that.’

  ‘I thought if we could just get him through this place he could go to Eton, like Daddy, and no one would notice how different he is once he was there. Daddy had quite a good time at school.’

  ‘That was sixty years ago. Things change.’

  ‘I know. It’s hard to make these decisions on your own.’

  ‘You have Paolo.’ He knew he should have resisted saying that, but it was too late.

  ‘Oh God, he’s no use. He only got into Millfield because his father gave them a string of polo ponies or something. He thinks a place like this will build Hugo’s character.’

  ‘Maybe it will.’

  ‘I know I should have talked to you about it,’ she said. ‘But you’re so prickly with me these days. And what with you being American and everything…’

  He allowed that one to hang in the air as Hugo was ushered into their presence by a woman police officer. He looked remarkably cheerful and had a large pink panther under his arm.

  ‘What’s that?’ Fliss asked, once she had disengaged herself from him.

  ‘I won it. On the pier,’ Hugo said proudly. ‘One of those grab things.’

  ‘No one ever wins with those,’ Fliss protested.

  ‘I did. Hi, Dad.’

  ‘Hi, son. What happened?’

  ‘I don’t know. I sort of got lost.’

  ‘You lost yourself on purpose, didn’t you?’

  ‘Sort of. Did you two come down together?’

  ‘Why did you do it, Hugo?’ Fliss asked.

  ‘I was fed up. They were keeping on and on at me. I needed a break. I meant to rejoin the group at the end of the tour of the palace. I didn’t think Sir would notice. I bought myself a map.’ He fished it out of his pocket to show them. ‘So I could find my way back. But then I lost track of the time. The pier is so cool. Did you come in the Fiat?’

  ‘No,’ Joe said. ‘I borrowed a friend’s car. Rod. Do you remember him?’

  ‘The policeman? Yeah. That car he had at the restaurant? The BMW?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Cool.’

  ‘Promise us you’ll never do this again, darling,’ Fliss pleaded. ‘It’s very dangerous for a little boy like you to be wandering around on his own.’

  ‘I know, but I was okay. I was being careful.’

  ‘Do you promise?’

  Hugo looked uncomfortable. ‘They go on at me all the time.’

  ‘Listen,’ Joe said. ‘Mummy and I have been talking about schools. If you still haven’t settled down by the end of term we’ll have a look around for somewhere in London.’

  ‘It’s okay. You don’t have to,’ Hugo said. ‘They would probably hate me there as well.’

  ‘No one hates you, darling,’ Fliss said and Joe knew she was on the verge of crying, because he was. ‘Little boys just like to pick on people. It’s not that they hate you.’

  ‘Oh.’ Hugo put his Pink Panther down and stood between them, holding their hands.

  ‘He didn’t actually promise not to do it again,’ Joe said as they drove back to London a few hours later. ‘Did you notice?’

  ‘Yes. In a way I quite like it that he shows so much spunk.’

  ‘That headmaster is an idiot,’ Joe said. ‘He hadn’t the faintest idea what to say to Hugo in front of us.’

  They lapsed into silence for a few minutes.

  ‘A friend of mine has just got back from Thailand,’ Fliss broke the silence. ‘She says we wouldn’t recognise it. The place has been ruined by tourists.’

  ‘People always say that about places they’ve enjoyed. I bet it’s still pretty magical.’

  ‘It was magical, wasn’t it?’

  They fell silent once more, both of them remembering their first meeting. It had been in a village on the northern borders of the country, an area which was then still only for the more hardened travellers. Joe had been back-packing around the Far East for six months by that stage and had almost run out of money. Fliss was travelling with a schoolfriend.

  Joe would never forget the first time he saw her. It had been by firelight and her hair had looked startlingly blonde in contrast to the crowds of oriental heads he had been surrounded by for so many months.

  It had been love at first sight for both of them and they had travelled back to England together to inform Fliss’ horrified family that they were going to get married. Joe had invited his parents over for the wedding at Fliss’ insistence, but their visit had not been a success. Neither his mother nor his father had been able to forgive Joe for the years he had been out of touch. The fact that he was now marrying and planning to live three thousand miles away from them did nothing to heal the wounds. His mother insisted on making pointed remarks about how they couldn’t afford to come over to England whenever they wanted to visit their grandchildren. The obvious wealth of Fliss’ family served only to fan the flames of her bitterness.

  Everyone told them they were far too young but the marriage had still seemed to be a success.

  ‘What made you do it, Fliss?’ Joe asked.

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Leave me?’

  ‘I was just bored. Paolo came along and he made my heart race again, like it had when I first met you. I was missing that feeling. Weren’t you?’

  He didn’t reply.

  ‘It had all become so easy and comfortable,’ she continued. ‘We were heading for middle age and I didn’t feel ready for that. Hugo was such hard work to bring up. You were always lost in your own thoughts. I felt that the pair of you were dragging me down all the time. I needed to escape.’

  ‘But you took him away from me. How could you have done that?’

  She fell silent and he knew better than to press the point. He knew there would never be a satisfactory answer to that question.

  ‘I’m planning to go to the Philippines in the next few days on business,’ he said.

  ‘You lucky bugger. Perhaps you’ll find a new wife out there.’

  He ignored the comment. ‘I’ll take my mobile so you can contact me if anything happens to Hugo.’

  ‘Oh God, I hope nothing else
is going to happen.’

  ‘Well, just in case.’

  ‘When you get back,’ she said, ‘I think we should go and look at a few schools. Just so we know what the options are if that place doesn’t work out.’

  ‘I think you’re right. I’m sorry if I’ve been prickly. Always feel that you can talk to me about Hugo.’

  ‘Okay.’

  That evening Joe went round to see Doris, taking a pizza for them to share. She was cleaning the windows when he came in, rubbing much harder than he thought must be wise given her recent operation. He had been to a cash machine on the way over and had drawn out several hundred pounds. He put it in an envelope and gave it to her.

  ‘This is for you, to buy food and whatever you need for a while. I’m going to fly out to Manila to see what I can find out.’

  ‘You going to Manila to research my story?’ she grinned, pleased at the thought.

  ‘Yeah. Where do you think I should go? Could I visit your family?’

  ‘Sure. They live in a little village north of Manila, long way north, almost in Baguio. I draw you a map and write their names. They pleased to see you. Give them this.’ She passed back the envelope of money without opening it. ‘They need money.’

  ‘You’ll need some. How will you eat?’

  She shrugged.

  ‘Here.’ He opened the envelope and counted out two hundred pounds. ‘You have that. I’ll give the rest to your family.’

  ‘Okay.’ She left the money lying on the table. ‘Another man to speak to. His name Jeremy Pevensey. He looked after me when I arrive in Manila. Gave my family money while I was trained, helped me to get my boob job. Very kind man. He friend of Maisie. They work together very close. Tell him Doris says hi.’

  ‘How do I find him?’

  ‘I give you mobile number. He drinks in Manila Hotel very often, entertaining important clients. He’s English Lord. Very rich. Very important man in Manila.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Manila Hotel provided a cool, dry sanctuary from the heat and rain of the tropical evening outside. Joe sat on a stool at the bar and looked around the room. Doris had given him a description of Jeremy Pevensey and he hoped he would be able to spot him. He wanted to observe the man from a distance.

  ‘He’s big man,’ Doris had said, puffing her cheeks full of air and holding her arms out in front of her to indicate the size of the man’s belly. ‘Always laughing. Very jolly fellow. He has big voice, always louder than all around him. And he wears white suits which show how he sweats.’

  The bar was full of people and it took Joe a while to accustom his eyes to the atmospheric gloom. His time clock was telling him it was late morning and he felt wide awake. The early-evening drinkers came and went, and then others started to arrive having had their dinner, settling in for late-night sessions. None of them seemed to fit the description he had been given.

  Eventually, when the bar was almost empty, he gave up and retired to bed, to stare sleeplessly at the ceiling. The following morning his body felt disorientated. He breakfasted slowly before making his way out into the town. He spent the day wandering around the massage parlours, most of which were closed during the morning anyway, and asking questions of anyone he could find. He could tell from the looks in their eyes that everyone had heard of Jeremy Pevensey, but they all shrugged or suddenly lost their ability to speak English when he asked how he could find the man. He tried phoning the number Doris had given him but it was always on message service. He didn’t want to leave a message. If the man wanted to avoid meeting him he didn’t want to warn him he was there.

  By the evening, his legs were aching and his clothes were sticking to him with sweat. He returned to the hotel to swim and spend another evening in the bar, waiting.

  The barman was all smiles. ‘Yes, Lord Pevensey often drinks here. He’s a very good customer.’ But he had no idea if his Lordship was expected. Joe picked at the snacks on the bar top and gazed around him at the same crowd he had seen the night before. He was beginning to wonder if he had made a mistake and wasted his money on this trip.

  Almost at the point of giving up for the second night, he noticed a stir of movement at the door, and three men came in together. One was obviously the dominant character. He was wearing a white suit and shoes, dabbing his face with a handkerchief as he looked around the room for a spare table. The two men hovering at his side were altogether smaller, slightly rodent-like in the way their eyes darted around. Someone waved to them from one of the tables and they made their way through to join a group which was already well established.

  ‘My dears,’ the big man boomed. ‘You have started without us. We must catch up immediately.’ He signalled to a waiter. ‘Bring us gin and tonics.’

  He sank into a low sofa and the two smaller men had to scurry around borrowing chairs from other tables in order to become part of the group with him.

  The waiter was there almost immediately, and Joe watched in awe as the big man downed his drink in one and signalled for another. All the other men in the group appeared to be deferring to him, laughing at his jokes, goading him on to talk more. This, Joe thought, must be his man.

  Turning his back on the group he pulled out his phone and dialled the number Doris had given him. It started to ring. From the corner of his eye he saw the big man pull a phone from his pocket, whilst still finishing off whatever story he had been telling.

  ‘Yes?’ he said.

  ‘Jeremy Pevensey?’ Joe enquired.

  ‘Speaking.’

  ‘My name in John Weston. I’m in Manila for a few days and a mutual friend suggested I should make contact with you.’

  ‘Who’s that then?’

  ‘Maisie Martin.’ Joe waited to see what sort of response this would elicit.

  ‘Maisie!’ The big man emitted an explosion of laughter. ‘How is she? The old devil.’

  ‘She’s fine. Could we get together?’

  ‘Sure, sure. Do you want to come to the house in the morning? Come for coffee and pastries, about eleven.’

  Joe wrote down the address which Pevensey dictated to him and hung up. Sliding his phone back into his pocket he swivelled back round on his chair. Pevensey was putting away his phone and was already back in charge of the conversation, telling a new story which he obviously found deeply amusing, his whole body shaking with suppressed merriment. It didn’t look as if he was trying to avoid meeting anyone.

  Joe slipped out of the bar and went up to his room to sleep.

  Pevensey’s villa in the suburbs of the city had the same colonial air as his clothes. There were wide sloping lawns, immaculately manicured, and an imposing facade of pillars and verandas. A servant, presumably the butler, in a formal white coat and black trousers let Joe into a large front hall with highly polished, dark wood floors and ceiling fans keeping the hot air moving.

  ‘Lord Pevensey is on the terrace,’ the man said. ‘If you would like to follow me.’

  They came through onto a patio at the back. A swimming pool glittered in the sunlight, the water obviously only just settling from its owner’s exertions. Pevensey was pulling on a full-length towelling robe and pushing his wet hair back from his forehead, using his fingers as combs.

  ‘Weston?’ he asked, extending his hand. ‘Good of you to pop over. Bring us coffee and pastries, Fred,’ he instructed the servant. ‘Come and sit down.’

  Joe found himself being steered to a heavy wicker chair beside a table where two women sat. They looked like mother and daughter. The young one didn’t look much more than fourteen.

  ‘This is Betty,’ Pevensey boomed, ‘and her daughter, Doris.’

  ‘Doris?’ Joe shook their hands deliberately formally. They both averted their eyes and were obviously ill at ease in the men’s company. ‘That’s an unusual name for this part of the world.’

  ‘I call them all Doris,’ Pevensey chuckled. ‘Anyone who works for me is either Fred or Doris. I don’t have enough of a brain left to remember a millio
n different names.’

  ‘You’re working here?’ Joe asked the girl, trying to put her more at ease.

  ‘She’s just starting today,’ Pevensey said. ‘Aren’t you, my dear? Her mother here has brought her into town and she’s going to start training at one of my establishments. I think she’s going to be a great success. Aren’t you, my dear? You’re going to earn lots of money to send back to your lovely old mother here?’

  The girl blushed and lowered her head even further. Her mother remonstrated with her, obviously telling her to speak when she was spoken to.

  ‘Don’t worry, my dear,’ Pevensey said. ‘She’s just a bit overawed. It’s all very new for her. Once she’s mixing in with all the other girls she’ll get her confidence up. She’ll be chirping away like a little canary in no time, won’t you Doris, eh?’

  The girl raised her head just long enough to nod and smile and then lowered it again, staring at her hands, which lay inertly on her lap.

  The servant reappeared, carrying a tray filled with pastries and coffee, and laid it down on the table in front of them.

  ‘Fred,’ Pevensey said. ‘Would you take these two lovely ladies and get them something to eat. Betty here then needs some money and her fare home and young Doris will need to be taken down to the boarding house, where she can meet the other girls she’ll be training with.’

  ‘Yes, your Lordship.’ Fred gave a little bow and signalled to the two women to follow him round the side of the house, leaving Joe and his host alone together.

  Pevensey poured them each a coffee and let out a deep sigh of satisfaction. ‘It’s a wonderful world when you can help a few people out, don’t you think, Weston?’

  ‘The two ladies, you mean?’ Joe asked.

  ‘Yes indeed. You have no idea the poverty some of these poor people have to live in. They rely on their children to earn enough money just to put food on the table. The money Fred will give her will be enough to feed the rest of her family for six months. And the girl will be able to learn a profession which will mean she’ll be able to earn a living for years to come. Probably even lead to her finding a decent husband.

  ‘It’s no good just pouring aid money into these places. If you give them food they’ll eat it and be hungry again a few hours later. You have to give them the means to earn money for themselves. That way you break the poverty chain. What do you think?’