A Cold Moon

by Mike Price

  “This Friday about eleven okay? I’ve got a meeting first but should be finished by then.”

  “Sorry, I can’t make it this week. I didn’t know you would be up and my mates got us tickets for a rock concert, you’re not angry are you?” Joe tried to sound concerned.

  ’Oh, no… of course not… I understand." Martin could not hide his disappointment.

  “Can you make it the following Friday? I do want to see you, honestly,” Joe tried to sound as sincere as possible. The last thing he wanted was to upset Martin just as his plan was about to mature.

  “Yes, yes that will be fine, I’ll probably be up every week now with the election looming,” he replied, a little cheered by the lad’s apparent enthusiasm.

  “I’ll look forward to it and I can tell you all about the concert.”

  Martin gave an audible groan; he was not the least interested in rock concerts.

  Joe was just about to go out to meet Jimmy. He was still trying to persuade his friend to let him in on one of his scams, but so far without success. He looked down at the silent phone; it would be just a week before his birthday, so it would be a good time to put his little plan of action into being. Give the old fart a good night then, when he was sated ask him for a little birthday present. He must remember to take some brochures of bikes he’d been looking at. Martin was bound to go along with it, after all he liked expensive things and the Ducati he had decided on was only a drop in the ocean compared to the Ferrari.

  Maddy arrived home from the boutique and flopped down in her favourite chair. Martin had already been home half an hour and was in the kitchen when she came in. He walked into the living room on hearing the front door slam shut.

  “You look bushed, would a gin and tonic help?”

  “Would it just! It’s been chaotic today, but I suppose I mustn’t grumble, we’ve sold more outfits in one day than we normally sell in a week.” She took a sip of the drink Martin handed to her. “How’s your day been?”

  “Same as always really, everyone is on tenterhooks waiting for the announcement of the election before they make any real commitments, but life has to go on.” Martin never really talked about his business in anything other than general terms. He preferred to keep his work life and home life in separate compartments.

  “Oh, by the way, I’ve got to go to Paris the week after next for a couple of days. Thursday and Friday, the 18th and 19th I think it is. I’m meeting Monique; she’s got some new lines she wants me to look at. Do you want to come with me?” She knew he wouldn’t want to go, he’d already said he would be going up to Kenilworth, but thought it best to ask.

  I just hope he doesn’t change his mind and spoil my plans, she thought to herself, having already arranged for Peter to accompany her on her trip. It would have been difficult to change the arrangements if Martin had wanted to go.

  “That’s fine; I’m in Kenilworth anyway, and will be more often once the Prime Minister presses the button.”

  Maddy chose to ignore the last remark. She had made her feelings known on numerous occasions that he was wasting his time and money, but now that she had Peter in the background, she had to admit it had its compensations.

  She sat drinking her gin, thinking exactly what she would be doing in Paris, a smile playing around her lips; Peter was so fit and never ran out of steam!

  “You’ve cheered up since you came in. Do my gin and tonics have that effect on you? How about going out for something to eat? I’ve been told there’s a new Japanese restaurant just opened. Shall I book a table?”

  “Mmm… that would be lovely.” But she was not referring to the restaurant, she was still planning what she would do to Peter.

  Martin was pleased with the arrangements Tony had made for him. He had taken a short lease on some offices just off the High Street, and had fitted them out with a couple of computers and desks and already interviewed two ladies to work part time. Most importantly, he had booked six venues for meetings in the next two weeks and was waiting to hear on further dates. It was obvious that Martin would have to spend more time in the apartment or else drive back to London late at night. He decided he would see what Maddy thought before making the decision, maybe it would be wise to drive back and forwards, at least in the early days. As Election Day grew closer, whenever that was, he would need to be around day and night so he would hold back on telling Maddy until the very last minute.

  Tony had been a real find and although rather shy in public, he excelled in pulling everything together. Whatever Martin thought of, it was almost guaranteed Tony had already put it in motion. Martin felt more and more confident as one after another, he put his messages across to the public at the meetings Tony had set up.

  Tony had even got friendly with the political reporter for The Coventry Evening Telegraph and Martin was assured of a report, no matter how small, after each time he spoke. The fact his rivals were not holding meetings never occurred to Martin; the friendly reporter was only too glad of something to write about.

  People were now coming up to him in the street and recognising him, though he found it a little disconcerting when one old lady asked him ‘where his white suit was’, obviously mixing him up with Martin Bell from years ago. What upset him the most was, Martin Bell was probably twenty-five years older than he was! At least, he was being recognised for being anti-sleaze and that was the crux of his campaign.

  The more meetings he held, the more he believed he was connecting with the public. He had hit the right note, the general feeling of anger against those who governed us was apparent by the increasing number of people who attended. If the credit crisis was the fault of greedy bankers, then it was exacerbated by greedy politicians who, rather than look to control excess, were diving head first into the trough themselves.

  Martin felt passionately about the whole expenses scandal, he was not against payment for MPs’, in fact, he believed that their basic pay should be higher, as they were now earning less than some head teachers, but to fiddle expenses to make up for the low salary was downright criminal. It was when he expressed these feelings at his meetings he got the most applause. He had correctly understood the public’s mood and, when taking questions from those present, had felt their almost universal resentment for all political parties, of whatever colour.

  Chapter Twenty

  Maddy had packed a small overnight bag for her trip to Paris and it stood in the hall whilst she looked in the mirror for the third time to check her lipstick was just right. Martin had offered to drive her to Heathrow, but she insisted on getting a taxi. He had pointed out that it was just as easy for him to drive up the M40 as the M1 and could easily drop her off, but she thanked him and repeated no, that was the end of the matter.

  There was a call on the intercom to say that the taxi had arrived, and she kissed Martin goodbye and went quickly to the lift. Once settled in the back of the cab, she breathed a sigh of relief, if Martin had insisted on taking her to the airport, it would have caused a few problems, as the taxi was now heading for Peter’s house to collect him.

  Martin had taken the day off and had arranged to be at the new Kenilworth offices by lunchtime. He wanted to spend most of the day with Tony, going over the response they had received to a mail shot asking for support. He had no planned speaking engagements that evening so would have plenty of time to wind down before Joe arrived. He had asked him to come early and have something to eat, but Joe had declined saying he would not be finished work until seven thirty and then needed to go home and change, so it would be near nine before he came over. Martin was not too put out, he was pleased that Joe had a steady job, he always seemed to be between jobs and Martin had often given him a few extra pounds to tie him over.

  The response to the mail shot had been excellent, with a hundred and fifty committed supporters who had pledged their vote to him at the election. Tony had suggested that Martin should reply to each person individually and had taken the initiative printing a thank you letter that only
needed to have the person’s name and Martin’s signature added. As always, Martin was impressed with Tony, and happily spent the time personally addressing and signing all the letters. By five thirty, Tony had brought him up to date with appointments and meetings for the next few weeks, any functions he thought Martin should go to and shown him some drafts of election posters. All in all, Martin was satisfied that they were not only ready for the election, but would be first out of the blocks once the date had been officially announced. He thanked Tony for doing such a fine job. Maybe when all this is over I could use him in the business, he thought.

  Martin walked back along the main street to the apartment. It was only six o’clock and Joe would not be there until nine, so there was time to shower, change and go to one of the local restaurants for a meal. The one thing he liked about Kenilworth was there was plenty of choice when it came to eating out.

  Once changed, he glanced at his watch and as it was only a quarter to seven, decided to have a gin and tonic, and watch the news before leaving. There was still no announcement from Number Ten and he wondered just how long Brown would leave it before setting the date. The news was as boring as ever, nothing but doom and gloom. Although he did not enjoy eating alone, thought that anything was better than hearing yet another poor soldier had been killed in Afghanistan. It was the litany of wasted human life that had convinced him we should pull out and bring our troops home. When, oh when will our Government realise we are no longer a super power, he thought, as he drained the last dregs of his drink.

  For a change, he had chosen a restaurant called Raffles which, according to the menu he’d read, in the window on his way back from the office, specialised in a mixture of Chinese, Malay and Indian cuisine. He enjoyed both Chinese and Indian, but had never tried Malay so was looking forward to a new experience.

  It was early and there were no other diners when he went in. The waiter showed him to a table and left him for a few minutes to peruse the menu. Martin was not quite sure what to choose so called the waiter back and asked him to choose for him. The restaurant specialised in gin slings, made to the recipe of its famous namesake in Singapore, and as he was not driving, Martin had no hesitation in ordering one.

  Although being empty with no atmosphere in the place, Martin enjoyed his meal and the two subsequent gin slings. In a way, he was content there were no other customers, as the last thing he wanted right now was for someone to recognise him and want to talk about his views on whatever was their burning concern of the moment.

  He finished his meal, paid and was just leaving as the first customers of the evening came in. Fortunately, they were a couple who were either on their first date or an illicit one, as they only had eyes for each other and paid no attention to Martin.

  He walked slowly back to the apartment and sat down to read the copy of the local paper Tony had given him. It was still only eight thirty. The next half hour seemed to drag by and by now, he had read the paper from front to back including most of the classified ads!

  At last, the intercom buzzed and he pressed the button to unlock the street door. He had his door open ready before Joe had even got out of the lift.

  “Hi, I’ve missed you,” he said putting his arms around Joe once the lad was inside.

  “Missed you too,” Joe replied in his flat Midland vowels.

  “Drink?”

  “Yes, large scotch.”

  There was no please, or thank you, with Joe just the minimum amount of words necessary.

  Joe took his drink and sat down on one of the easy chairs, reaching for the cigarette case as he did so.

  “How was your concert?”

  Joe had forgotten all about the imaginary concert he had made up on the spur of the moment.

  “Alright, not your cup of tea, too loud for you I’ll bet.” He gave a crooked grin at the thought of Martin going to any concert, other than a classical one.

  In truth, Martin was not bothered about the concert, but was just trying to show some interest. He reflected they really did not have a lot in common and the only thing that tied them was sex.

  “I’m pleased you’ve got a steady job, what is it?”

  The question hit Joe like a punch in the stomach. He had not expected to be questioned on a job which, like the concert, was a figment of his imagination. He needed to think on his feet. Playing for time, he asked Martin if he wanted another, and when he nodded to say yes, he walked to the kitchen area and filled both glasses.

  “Oh, it’s nothing special. I work in the loading area of a distribution company, they’re a smaller version of TNT,” he said when he returned.

  He hoped that was vague enough to satisfy Martin’s curiosity without getting himself too caught up in details he might forget in the future.

  “I’m saving up to buy myself a motor bike.”

  Maybe this was a good opportunity to sound Martin out about his birthday present.

  “How much is that going to cost you?”

  “Well, it depends how much I can save. What I really want is a Ducati 848, but they cost ten and half grand, so I’ll probably have to settle for a second hand one, which will only be a couple of grand. Look, I’ve got a brochure in my jacket if you’re interested.”

  Martin nodded his head, and the lad went to the hall where his jacket was hanging and retrieved the literature from his inside pocket. At last, something they had in common; Martin loved speed and had thought about buying himself a motorbike, if for no other reason than the ease of getting around London.

  Joe sat on the arm of Martin’s chair as he turned over the pages showing pictures of the motorbike and details of its specification.

  “Look, I might be able to help you with the purchase.” Martin was holding Joe’s hand and the boy responded by putting his arm around the older man’s shoulders.

  Now’s the time to tell him about my birthday, Joe thought.

  “That would be great if you could, especially as it’s my birthday next week and it’s a special one.”

  “Really, is it your eighteenth then?”

  “No, I’ll be sixteen.”

  For a few moments, there was silence. Martin could not believe what Joe had just said.

  “Did you say sixteen? I thought you were about eighteen or nineteen. Are you telling me that you’re only fifteen now?” Martin’s voice rose as he tried to control the anger.

  “Yeah, what’s the problem?”

  “What’s the fucking problem? You’re the fucking problem. You’re fucking underage!” Martin was spluttering now, shouting; his face so red that it might burst. If this ever got out it could ruin me. “It’s over, do you hear me, it’s over,” he bellowed.

  “But what about my motorbike?” Joe could not understand what all the fuss was about, no one in the past had ever bothered about his age, they had only been too glad to get serviced.

  “You can forget that. Look, I want you out of my life and for good. I never want to see you again. I’ll give you five hundred pounds; call it a going away present, but I never want to see you again.”

  Martin was furious, struggling to hold himself together.

  “But, Martin…”

  “But Martin, nothing. I’m going to the ‘hole in the wall’ to draw out the cash for you and as soon as I get back, I want you to leave so have your last drink, I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

  Martin slammed the door behind him as he left to find the cash machine.

  Joe sat in the chair, stunned, this was not the way he’d planned it, Martin was his meal ticket, his exit strategy. He had to have another plan but what; five hundred quid was not enough, he needed at least ten times that amount. He had to think and fast, Martin would be back in a minute and then that would be it, all over, all that shagging for nothing!

  Something was nagging in the back of his mind, something that Martin had said, no, not said, had shouted. If only he could remember… and then he did. Martin had said if it came out, it could ruin him; that was it. He would threat
en to expose Martin and he would have to pay for his silence. Joe felt suddenly very pleased with himself, he would actually get the money without having to fuck the old fool, but he needed proof, what if he denied it. They would take Martin’s word, not his. He looked out of the window and could see Martin walking back towards the apartment; he would be back in just a few minutes.

  Then he remembered the photos and dashed into the bedroom. The draw was locked but it easily gave way to the blade on his sheath knife. Thank god I kept that with me, he thought as he pulled the draw open and took out one of the prints depicting ‘the action shot’. He ran back into the room and lit another cigarette to calm himself down. As he fingered the silver case, he thought ‘why not’ he won’t miss it and slid the case into his trouser pocket.

  Martin came back into the apartment, his face still showing the anger that had welled up inside him.

  “Here’s your money, now go and don’t ever ring me or come to this apartment again.” He pointed to the door, his whole body shaking with rage.

  “Whatever,” was all that Joe said as he scooped up the notes, grabbed his jacket from its hook and left.

  Martin was shaking so badly, he spilt whisky on to the worktop as he tried to refill his glass.

  Joe went down to the basement and retrieved his bike, still thinking how he would go about blackmailing Martin. He was sure he would pay up, once he knew he had evidence to prove they had been lovers and anyway, he was loaded, he wouldn’t miss the money. He decided ten thousand would be a nice round figure which would set him up nicely, even Jimmy would have to show some interest if he said he could inject that amount into the business. As he peddled to the end of the main street and turned right alongside Abbey Fields Park, he relaxed thinking that maybe things had not turned out as badly as he first thought, at least he didn’t have to go to bed with him this time, or ever again for that matter.

  The road swung left down the hill towards the traffic lights then right onto the Coventry Road. He was freewheeling down the hill, congratulating himself on what had actually been a lucky turn of events, when the thought suddenly struck him that it was not a crime to have sex with another man, it was the age factor that was critical, being under sixteen years old was illegal. He slammed the brakes on as he got level with the entrance to the park.