Eyes of the Blind

Home > Other > Eyes of the Blind > Page 32
Eyes of the Blind Page 32

by Alex Tresillian


  “I see,” Daniel said.

  “Don’t look so worried, man,” Duncan said. “You look as though Damian Clarke’s ghost were standing at your elbow. He isn’t, I trust?” the consultant added, smiling.

  “No, no,” Sullivan said quickly.

  “That’s a relief. No, I was fascinated. Envious, even. I realise we didn’t know each other, but now that we do, I was wondering whether I might push for an invite of my own to one of your soirees. I assure you I should be far more appreciative than Dr. Damian.”

  Daniel Sullivan smiled inwardly. Why had he allowed himself to get dragged into self-doubt? He knew human nature. He knew men particularly, especially men after his own heart, and Duncan Clark was clearly one such.

  “Well,” he said.

  “I realise it should be you doing the inviting,” Duncan Clark said, “but I hope you will think of me the next time you’re planning one.”

  “I certainly will,” Daniel said. “We haven’t held any for a while. I shall need to speak to a few people and then let you know.”

  “Excellent,” Duncan Clark said.

  “Niall Burnet knows about them,” Vivien Loosemore said when Daniel broached the subject in her office at BAB.

  “Because you told him,” Daniel snapped. “Niall Burnet is an overgrown blind schoolboy. It’s absurd to live your life in fear of him. You obviously did when he was at school and now you are again.”

  “I am certainly not afraid of him and never was,” Loosemore said hotly. “And I bitterly resent your accusations that I told him anything. The point is that he knows, and it seems utter folly to me to take the risk.”

  “Number one,” Daniel said, “life without risk is no life at all. Number two, whatever Niall Burnet does know, he can’t possibly know the date of the next evening because we never set one. If his informant was Damian Clarke, he won’t be learning any more through that channel. If you and I set a date and he still finds out, I shall know where he’s getting his information.”

  Vivien Loosemore opened her mouth to respond but Sullivan swept on.

  “The boy’s got other things on his mind. He’s shacked up with Transplant Girl and it’s all systems happy ever after. There’s no reason why you should ever see him again. Meanwhile, I have friends who have certain expectations of good times I can provide for them, and my stock is already starting to fall because of your groundless cowardice. Do I have to remind you about the dirty linen I washed for you? Now you are a patron of one charity and you head up the education division in another. Nice work if you can get it.”

  “Very well, Daniel,” Loosemore said after a pause. “Give me time to check my diary. I’ll give you a date before the end of the week.”

  For Niall, life settled into a new routine. His days were spent alongside Miranda, talking, walking, kissing, establishing their relationship. In the evenings the pair of them skulked upstairs or went out to give Roderick and Karin Leman breathing space.

  “I don’t want to be in their faces,” Niall said, “and Hugo isn’t everybody’s cup of tea.”

  Hugo healed himself and got back into harness. Ease and happiness seemed to settle around them like a comfort blanket.

  It was when he lay in bed at night that the clouds gathered. He felt the danger of sinking into the kind of life so many of his former schoolmates had succumbed to. Giving up the fight for a career and settling for disability living allowance. Curling up in a corner and letting the world go by. He didn’t want that. He wanted independence. He wanted a job. He wanted something that gave him some status in the eyes of the world. He definitely wanted the relationship with Miranda, but he wanted it to be more grown-up. They were living like a couple of early adolescents in her parents’ house, and he could understand that in many ways Miranda was going to be immature. It was inevitable. But he wasn’t. He felt as though he was slipping back into childhood.

  And then there was the whole question of BAB. Daniel Sullivan and the rest. As the days lengthened and the air warmed towards late spring he felt that everyone else was happy to let sleeping dogs lie. It had been an adventure but now it was over. They had heard nothing from Penny or Rebecca, nothing from Matthew Long. The trail was going cold and nobody seemed to mind but him. He sensed that Miranda no longer wanted to talk about it. She didn’t want to be reminded of the dark days because now her sight seemed secure. The operation had been a triumphant success. So he couldn’t talk to her about it. Couldn’t talk to anyone.

  Clutching at straws – as he acknowledged to himself – he emailed Lucy Sturmey and Jon Allen of This Is Now, asking if they knew of any media opportunities that were coming up, explaining that he was looking to move in a new direction. He had a bland but friendly response from the presenter but nothing from Lucy Sturmey. He was yesterday’s man before he had even been today’s.

  “How do you feel about us getting a flat together?” he asked Miranda one evening.

  “Shouldn’t one of us get a job first?” she said.

  “Neither of us is exactly galloping towards that, though, are we?” Niall said.

  “Why not ask the woman at Victory?” Miranda suggested. “You said you really liked her.”

  “I will never get a job anywhere that Vivien Loosemore has any influence,” Niall responded. “What about you?”

  “You know about me. I’ve got absolutely no training or experience in anything. I don’t even know what I want to do.”

  “Perhaps you should’ve gone for celebrity after all.”

  They sat in an inconclusive silence.

  “I can’t stay here for ever,” Niall said. “It just isn’t right. Your father’ll get to the point where he kicks me out.”

  “I know,” Miranda said. But she was enjoying life too much to want anything to change.

  Niall’s phone rang.

  “Hi?”

  “Hi Niall. It’s Rebecca.”

  “Hi Rebecca.”

  “I thought you’d want to know that Penny’s got a date.”

  “Good for her.”

  “No. A date for a Roman Evening.”

  Niall sat up straight.

  “Right!”

  “There are going to be four men. She needs three girls. If Miranda’s up for it, she and I could be two of them.”

  “You know what I think about that.”

  “Strength in numbers, Niall. It’ll be fine.”

  “When is it?”

  “Friday week.”

  “So we’ve got time to meet and discuss it.”

  “We have.”

  “I’m glad about that. I’ll get in touch with Matt Long and fix something up.”

  “OK. This is it, Niall. Payback. For Miranda and Joe and the insult to both of them.”

  “Yeah,” Niall said doubtfully. He relayed the information to Miranda and sensed her excitement. “Why do you actually want to strip off in front of these guys?” he asked her.

  “I don’t,” she said. “But I want this whole business over with, and this seems to be the only way.”

  “As soon as he sees you he’ll know the game is up.”

  “I could disguise myself. Dye my hair. Have it cut.”

  “Who’s talking like she’s been sighted for ever now?”

  “Even blind girls dye their hair, Niall.”

  “It won’t work.”

  “Don’t you think his excitement that I’m there will override everything else?”

  “No. He’s not a fool.”

  “Then we have to move fast and flush them out into the waiting arms of the press.”

  “It’s a mess,” Niall said.

  “So kiss me and let’s talk about something else.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  Vivien Loosemore tried to crush the feeling of foreboding that engulfed her when she thought about the evening ahead. She had never enjoyed these soirees, lived with herself only because she convinced herself no real harm was being done and the girls involved were being well paid for their services. She had bee
n adamant from the beginning that she would not countenance anything that caused physical pain or injury, and Daniel had conceded the point, saying that as far as he was concerned there was no pleasure in pain and he wouldn’t issue an invitation to anyone who thought there was. Tonight, however, she sensed a different atmosphere, one that she couldn’t trust. There was something discordant about the whole event. Was it just that it had been such a long time since the last evening? Was it that one of the last guests had subsequently committed suicide? Was it Daniel’s insistence that the numbers be increased from three to four when it had always been three, which suggested to her that he was no longer fully in control?

  She acknowledged her debt to Daniel. Her career had been on the precipice and he had been in a position to save her and steer her into the secure and prosperous waters that she now enjoyed. But now – she had an astronomical pension: she could retire and take the risk that Daniel would blacken her name retrospectively. Would it matter anymore? She could free herself at a stroke from his power over her. The trouble was – as it had always been – she liked her life, liked the trimmings of her status, and all that would be lost. What would she do? Retirement held no attraction. She liked having purpose and influence, and using it to do good. She had made a difference in the V.I world. She knew it, even if others didn’t, and she could still do more.

  She checked the delivery from the caterers and turned up the thermostat on the central heating.

  “Why do you want to go?” Lindsey asked John Holthouse. He was out of her shower and dressing.

  “It’s something Daniel’s organised and I can’t really get out of it.”

  “Of course you can,” Lindsey said. “Be ill.”

  Holthouse was tempted. Why did he need to go out for dinner and sex when he could get it all at Lindsey’s? Lindsey always let him do exactly what he wanted in bed, or did what he asked, and he couldn’t deny that her large breasts and buttocks were more to his taste than the skinny girls who came to Number 17. Add to that Daniel’s ‘extra guest’ and the whole evening was shaping up to be something best avoided.

  Yes, he had enjoyed them on occasion. Had gone along with Daniel quite enthusiastically when he had first come up with the idea and they had been buoyed up by the success of his pocket-lining schemes. But what Daniel seemed incapable of understanding was that the secret of continuing success was to lie low when your peace and security were threatened. And while ever Niall Burnet was close to the Leman family Holthouse felt the threat. It was a time for quiet retrenchment, and if what Vivien Loosemore had said, as reported by Daniel, were true, then tonight’s meet was insane.

  He stood indecisively, wrapped in a towel.

  “I could serve you dinner topless,” Lindsey said. “You could pretend you were in some dodgy lap dancing club.” As she spoke she pulled off her jumper and unhooked her bra with the unselfconsciousness of the nearly blind, letting her large creamy-pale breasts spill into view. “That’s got to be more fun than some boring BAB dinner.”

  “What’s got into you tonight?” John asked, impressed.

  “I read some stuff in a magazine,” Lindsey said, “about how to spice up your sex life.”

  “Does ours need spicing up?”

  “It can’t hurt, can it. I’d much rather you wanted me for sex than for what I can find out for you about Niall Burnet.”

  “Which, let’s face it, wasn’t very much.”

  “I don’t know why you’re so bothered about him,” Lindsey said. “I refuse to believe it’s because he was my first boyfriend.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  John was finding it hard to concentrate. It was as if he was in two conversations, one with Lindsey and one with her breasts, and it was her breasts he was mostly listening to. He made only token resistance when she pulled his towel away and let it fall to the floor.

  “Looks like you do want to have fun with me,” Lindsey said, rubbing his penis against the very breasts he had been trying unsuccessfully to ignore.

  Two minutes later they were having energetic but very conventional sex on the bed.

  Duncan Clark carried two glasses of wine over from the bar.

  “Cheers,” Faith said when he sat down.

  “Cheers.”

  “So what is your plan exactly?” she asked him.

  “I’ve got a better than average recording app on my phone,” Clark said. “I’m going to try to get Sullivan into conversation about the whole business and record everything he says.”

  “You don’t think he’ll be on his guard?”

  “I’m not going to accuse him of anything. Just try to draw him out by being nauseatingly sycophantic.”

  “My flesh creeps when I think about the whole degrading...” Faith struggled for the word – “...scenario. I don’t know how you’re going to be able to hide your disgust. I couldn’t.”

  “I shall be focusing on the conversation and not on the girls,” Clark said. “And as soon as I’ve got what I’m going for, I shall cry off.”

  “If they let you leave. Remember Juliette Warwick and everything she told me,” Faith cautioned.

  “Juliette’s not with them any more. And they won’t be expecting trouble so they won’t have anything set up.”

  “These people are odious, but let’s not make the mistake of thinking they’re not cautious and clever. And dangerous.”

  “It will be refreshing to know that you’re worrying about me. After all these years.”

  “Oh Duncan.”

  “We shall convene in my office in the morning and I shall be able to tell you all about it.”

  “I shall look forward to that.”

  It was cold in Matt’s photographer’s car, parked up inconspicuously around twenty-five yards from the front door of number 17 Cardew Crescent. They had stopped off at a kebab shop for sustenance on the way and now the car stank. Niall suspected that some chilli sauce had found its way onto his jacket as well, which was annoying.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” the photographer – Ed – replied. Matt’s plan for a paparazzi storm outside the house had fallen by the wayside, partly because they hadn’t wanted to risk spooking any of the key players in the event of some photographers arriving too early, and partly because Matt wanted the exclusive.

  “It is early yet, though,” Ed added.

  “According to what Penny said, the girls are always the first to arrive,” Matt said, “and we know they haven’t even left yet.”

  “I’m freezing,” Niall observed. He had never given his blessing to the plan for the evening. He felt frustrated because he wasn’t going to be the one carrying the battle to the enemy; he was sure the girls were going to mess up and the moment Miranda was recognised, despite that morning’s expensive new hairstyle and colour, the game would be up and God knows what might happen.

  There had been a very disconcerting moment in the middle of the day when Roderick Leman had called home to say that something had come up and he was going to stay in town for the evening, making himself a candidate for the Number 17 guest list. Annoyingly – ridiculously – they hadn’t discussed it, although Miranda had gone very quiet as soon as she found out and he knew for a fact that she was thinking about it. Why hadn’t he said something? Why hadn’t she said something? Instead they had inhabited a vacuum of near silence until it had been time for her to go to Penny and Rebecca’s.

  In Niall’s considered opinion, the evening had ‘disaster’ written all over it. He knew a bit about disasters.

  Matthew Long’s phone buzzed.

  The girls are on the way,” he announced.

  The girls were in a taxi, tense for a range of reasons. Rebecca had said nothing against the plan from the start, nor asked to be excused from it, but the thought of returning to Cardew Crescent and the memories of everything that had happened there made her feel sick inside. The fact that this time there would be no sex of any description really didn’t help. Everything ab
out the house just filled her with horror. And telling herself that she was doing it for Joe wasn’t helping as much as it needed to. It was the only thing that had got her this far, but she knew that every time the taxi stopped in traffic there was a real danger she might make a run for it.

  Penny was surprised to find herself a little on edge. Normally she took everything in her stride, but tonight was going to be different, and it was going to mark the end of the Daniel Sullivan chapter of her life. Not, in all honesty, before time. What had begun as a convenient arrangement had become tiresome, yet still lucrative. This was, perhaps, the moment to call a halt to all her ‘extramural activities’ and claw back some self-respect, because, despite herself, the ‘geisha lifestyle’ – as she thought of it – had taken its toll. And in that case tonight would be a watershed – an end and a beginning.

  Beth, Penny’s trusty partner in crime, was tense only because she sensed it in all the others and realised there was something going on to which they were all party but she was not. When she asked if there was anything she should know, they all said ‘no’. And she knew they were lying.

  Miranda was focusing all her attention and energy on stopping herself from shaking. She wished she had never suggested using this evening as the means to expose Daniel Sullivan and whoever else was involved. She wished she had allowed herself to be talked out of going in herself – her presence in the building seemed to be an unnecessary risk that wouldn’t add anything to what they were doing. She wished she had gone out before her father’s phone call in the afternoon – the thought of him being there brought bile into her throat. She wished she had suggested moving back to Telford with Niall and starting a new life. Leaving her entire past behind. Even if Daniel didn’t recognise her, it would be very obvious to her ‘partner’ that she was out of her depth. She just hoped that somehow, although she had no idea how, it would all be over quickly.

 

‹ Prev