A Chance Encounter

by Rae Shaw

  ‘Okay. Thank you,’ he said with sincerity.

  Luke joined them, looping his arm around his girlfriend and the conversation diverted into safer territory. Hettie approached them with shallow steps. Her eyelids were heavy, as if the mascara was laden with lead.

  ‘How are you bearing up’ Sophia asked.

  ‘My feet are killing me,’ she whispered.

  ‘Why don’t you sit down?’

  Hettie blushed and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. ‘Because...’ She peered over her shoulder. There was no sign of Jackson.

  Mark didn't understand marriage, why somebody had to have that control, that level of influence over another. Wasn't love about equality? ‘You need permission to sit down?’ he scoffed.

  ‘No!’ Hettie said firmly. ‘He would send me for a rest; up in our suite. He knows I’m not back up to strength yet. I've had tonsillitis. Evey is far more demanding than Noah ever was during the night. No, that would be it. For the whole night, so to speak, well probably.’ She lowered her head, and leaned toward the group. ‘The kids are with the nanny.’

  ‘Oh.’ Sophia's mouth stayed open.

  Luke laughed, loudly. ‘Oh, Hettie, I'm sorry.’

  ‘Fuck. Me and my gob.’ Hettie groaned. ‘I'm not even bloody well drinking. And my tits are leaking. I’m going to need to express soon.’

  Mark had filled his evening with regrettable misunderstandings. ‘You should rest. You do look tired,’ he said. ‘Julianna is hovering. She thinks you’ve passed your bedtime.’

  Julianna's expression of boredom remained her chief definition.

  ‘She wants me to sit down,’ said Hettie. ‘Once I’m tucked upstairs she’s off duty and can hit the bar before it closes. Oh sorry, guys, I’m beat. Watch. See how long it takes him to notice my arse taking up residence on one of those comfortable chairs.’ She pointed to the corner of the room.

  Her little audience watched with muted hilarity as she carefully nestled in the chosen chair. A few minutes later Jackson honed in on his wife. He bent down and whispered in her ear. Helping her up to her feet, he signalled to Julianna and she escorted Hettie to the lobby. As Hettie passed close to her amused admirers, she gave a small wave and a grin. She didn't seem that unhappy. Perhaps he had whispered something unexpected to her.

  Luke agreed with Mark’s observation. ‘She’s got my big brother wrapped around her little finger. Nobody thinks it, but that’s the secret of their relationship.’

  Julianna returned from the penthouse suite minus her radio device and headed straight for the bar. At the buffet table, she built a mountain of food on her plate. Mark continued to chat to Luke and Sophia. The initial frostiness he felt toward the couple had evaporated. He should stop firing his emotions from the hip and concentrate on using his brain before opening his mouth.

  Julianna stabbed at the food with a fork. Nobody was talking to her. Mark caught her eye and gestured. She shook her head. He insisted with a stern stare of disapproval, then a smile of welcome. Reluctantly, she came over to join him.

  ‘Off duty?’ Mark asked.

  ‘Yes. She’s gone to bed. Had to prop her up in the lift.’ Julianna licked her lips. ‘Sorry, ravenous.’

  ‘Do you know Luke and Sophia?’

  She didn’t and he introduced her to Jackson’s brother and partner.

  ‘So you work together?’ Sophia asked.

  ‘We’ve done some work together,’ Julianna said. ‘I've a background in criminal investigations.’ She turned to Mark. ‘Have the files on that case gone to the prosecution?’

  ‘Yep. The police will decide whether to charge the others involved.’

  Luke raised an eyebrow. ‘You investigate fraud?’

  ‘This was a case of embezzlement. The company car fleet manager. Nothing original, he copied the scam after reading about it in the newspaper. Julianna did some covert surveillance and we caught him red-handed.’

  ‘Car pool manager? How does he commit fraud?’ Sophia asked.

  ‘With a little help from his friends.’ Julianna sipped on her wine before continuing. ‘We wanted to catch the guy in the act to prove it. So I parked close by the filling station and watched, waited. Another humdrum day in the life of me, rather like playing bodyguard.’

  ‘Complaining, Baptiste?’

  Julianna cringed and edged sideways to allow Jackson to join the little circle.

  ‘No sir, wouldn’t dream of it. Talking about a surveillance job I did for Mark last month.’

  Jackson shifted his attention from Julianna to Mark. ‘An internal case?’

  ‘The pool car manager.’

  ‘Ah yes. I saw the dismissal notice.’ Jackson nodded and tossed back a mouthful of spirits.

  ‘Please explain,’ said Sophia. ‘I don't understand what he did.’

  ‘It’s simple,’ Mark explained. ‘He fills the pool cars with fuel, ready for them to go out again. There are several fuelling stations near to the private garage where the cars are parked overnight. He takes a few a day. He has a company fuel card. He can only buy fuel or oil, nothing else. Now and again, he meets a mate in the forecourt. His mate fills his car with fuel and is given an excellent discount on the pump total. He hands over cash and our embezzler pays for his mate's fuel with the company card and pockets the cash. Turns out he had lots of mates.’

  Julianna joined in. ‘Caught three on camera on separate days. Trouble was he was getting greedy. Mileage records and fuel consumption didn’t match up and the whole thing was exposed.’

  ‘Crafty,’ Sophia said.

  ‘Stupid,’ said Jackson. ‘Did he profess his innocence?’ he asked Mark.

  ‘God, yes. He went through quite a long list of explanations until we showed him the photos and then he caved in. Unfortunately, he won’t give the identities of his mates.’

  ‘He's afraid of them,’ said Julianna. ‘Not sure if “mates” is the correct definition. He's probably embroiled with some local villains and it got out of hand.’

  Luke cleared his throat. ‘In any case, they could claim that they simply gave him the money to pay the cashier. They won't mention the fuel card. Plead ignorance. It's much harder to prosecute them.’

  ‘So you wouldn't prosecute them?’ Mark was disappointed. The real criminals never got caught.

  Luke shook his head. ‘Waste of money.’

  Mark lifted his glass. ‘The case was made by Julianna. So thank you, Mrs Baptiste, for your humdrum day in a car!’

  ‘Ms Baptiste,’ she said swiftly.

  The curtness was marked, even Jackson's head turned. Mark understood bitterness, how it crept out of the shadows and into everyday things. He had forgotten her marital status; she had mentioned her ex-husband during a meeting about the fuel scandal, had told him not to call her missus and that she preferred a neutral title. Or just Julianna. She had flashed him a pretty smile. It was the first hint that she liked him. He was convinced she liked him. Or wanted something from him.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Sophia asked Mark. ‘You look flushed.’

  ‘Fine. It’s hot in here.’ Julianna swallowed a mouthful of cheese. She looked up and realised her mistake.

  How bloody embarrassing, for him as well as her.

  ~ * ~

  Jackson purloined Mark for a trip to the bar. The two men, of near equal height, leaned against the counter and avoid each other’s eyes. Mark estimated Jackson’s bar tab would be substantial by the end of the night. He resisted smiling. Jackson’s wealth went beyond numbers; there was a good measure of inherent philanthropy.

  Jackson stooped a little over Mark’s shoulder. ‘How’s Ellen? Recovered from her burn?’ Jackson asked. The barman was quietly working his way through their order.

  Mark speculated if everybody he met were Jackson's spies, then he remembered the quiet conversation at Fasleigh House the previous month. He had referred to the freak coffee spillage encounter with his sister, which Mark had used to illustrate life's strange twists of fate. In the fog of
alcohol he had mentioned he hadn't seen his sister for a few years. Jackson had the ability to latch onto seemingly unimportant things and read beyond the headlines.

  ‘Oh, it was superficial. She's at a wedding today.’

  ‘Why not let her have some fun at my club. Bring her along the next time I'm there. I’ll let you know when I'll be there next.’ Jackson owned a ridiculously expensive nightclub in the West End. He used it to attract celebrities and then milked them for his fundraisers.

  Mark almost said no thanks. Ellen in a nightclub – would he have to be her chaperone, watch how much she drank, whom she talked to? It wasn't his idea of a fun night out and Ellen wouldn't take kindly to his big brother role. However, if he turned Jackson down, he doubted there would be a second chance.

  ‘I’d be delighted to bring Ellen along, naturally. Honoured,’ he said swiftly.

  Jackson's motives for befriending Mark remained cloaked. Mark suspected it had something to do with what had happened at the Haydocks accountancy company, his previous employer. That incident hung on his heels no matter how hard he tried to shake off its legacy. To cover his tracks he had moved three times since arriving in London. Eventually, luck won out and rather like his chance encounter with Ellen in the coffee shop, he had had a similar one with Hettie in the wine bar. That fortuitous event had led to a personal interview with Jackson at his headquarters.

  It had been a congenial, yet probing interview, in which Jackson had picked apart Mark's work at Daneswan, the accountancy firm that recruited him after he had left Manchester. Remarkably, Jackson hadn't asked about Haydocks. Battling the urge to confess what he had inadvertently unleashed all those months ago, he had opted to keep quiet and presented himself as loyal, hardworking. Trustworthy. It came as a surprise that the interview ended on a high point: Jackson asked him to tidy up his wife's accounts.

  When they had shaken hands, Jackson had held it longer than he had expected. ‘You won't be at Daneswan for much longer, Mark. You'll be moved here to my HQ and the Forensic Accountancy division as soon as there’s an opening.’

  The weird thing was Mark hadn't expressed any hint of wanting to shift into forensic accountancy. It excited him: delving into the dark world of fraud and embezzling and he had the right skills for the role. But Haynes Financial Services recruited the most experienced for those kinds of jobs. Mark lacked professional qualifications.

  ‘Thank you,’ he had said with a dry throat. He wanted to know why, but Jackson had steered him out of the door. ‘My PA will put you in contact with my wife.’ On the office threshold, Jackson had thumped his back, nearly knocking Mark off his feet.

  Three months later, Jackson's promise had been delivered.

  As the barman loaded the tray with drinks, offering to bring them over, Mark glanced over his shoulder, and caught the rosy cheeked Julianna staring at him. She hurriedly disposed of her empty plate on a nearby table. Her furtive evening of spying led Mark to wonder whether she cared for the Haynes family or not. He had always imagined the role of bodyguard as soulless and detached. Was she really prepared to step in and put her life on the line for them?

  He and Jackson re-joined the group and helped distribute the drinks. He missed Hettie’s frivolity.

  ‘Hettie still tires easily,’ Mark said. Julianna’s eyes flashed bright under the halogens. He wasn’t sure why he was thinking of Hettie when he was consciously looking at another woman.

  Jackson pursed his lips. ‘She’s been overdoing it. Trying to run the gallery and nursing Evey at the same time. She's had trouble with the concept of owning a business and taking maternity leave.’

  Sophia frowned. ‘She told me she was going to get some art graduates in to provide extra help.’

  ‘I pointed out that interns require a great deal of supervision.’ Jackson fingered his glass, ‘So I told her to appoint an experienced gallery manager as maternity cover.’

  ‘I suspect that didn’t go down well,’ Luke said.

  ‘No,’ Jackson said, dryly, ‘But I didn’t give her a choice. So she found one.’

  Mark recalled the lengthy discussions with Hettie about her wish to keep her business independent of her husband's conglomeration. ‘She would have resisted that idea,’ Mark said.

  Jackson raised his glass to his lips and paused. ‘She did. Briefly.’

  Mark expected something on Julianna’s face; a frown of disapproval on behalf of Hettie, but nothing, not even a shadow crossed her face. A true professional or an unconcerned individual?

  Jackson continued. ‘Since Frances started work last month Hettie's health has improved considerably. The doctors had threatened her with a tonsillectomy. That scared her too.’

  She had a strong dislike of blood, so an operation would be a frightening prospect.

  The dynamics of Jackson's marriage were not up for further discussion and he moved off with Luke and Sophia in tow, leaving Julianna with Mark.

  He would always crave for Hettie, but he had to accept he had no place in her life. Once his client, always the boss's wife, she wasn't his friend. She would never be his lover.

  He needed a distraction. A lure. Somebody to guide him away from the unattainable. No love, no commitment. Just companionship. Sex. God, he missed sex.

  Julianna hadn't moved. She was waiting. Unlike Hettie, Julianna wasn't stunning, although her blended ethnicity brought out the best of her attractiveness. She had wavy black hair that didn't quite hold its place when she tied it back. The rogue locks added to rather than subtracted from her appeal. Her plump, and kissable, lips were a little wide, her cheekbones lofty, a hint of flatness to her nose and her chin angular and masculine. Her chocolate eyes were astounding. Beautiful, no. Attractive, yes. When it came to romance, he wondered if she was as impartial as he was. During one previous meeting, she had slipped out a few remarks about her ex, whom she detested with a loathing that was impressive, while inferring things that made him wonder if she missed some aspects of her marriage. Mark had no point of reference. He had no plans to marry.

  ‘Still no replacement Mr Woodfall?’ he asked tentatively.

  ‘Nope. There isn’t going to be another Mr Woodfall. Learnt my lesson,’ she replied.

  What had he to lose? Upset her and she would likely walk off. It wasn't as if their paths crossed regularly. He could live with the fallout.

  ‘But, I think you miss Mr Woodfall in other ways, don’t you?’ he said softly.

  She shoulders stiffened and as her eyes widened, her firm chin hung a fraction lower. The stunned expression made her even more attractive. Was he as worthy, as agreeable in appearance? Mark was honest enough to admit he had flaws: he wished his hair was lighter, his skin smoother.

  ‘Possibly.’ She spoke through a small parting of her lips.

  It wasn't a no. So he shifted closer, making sure nobody was in earshot.

  ‘That’s a yes, Julianna. Admit it.’

  She blushed and dropped her eyes. Fancy that, he thought, she wasn't that battle hardened.

  He leaned into her ear. ‘I’m not going to tell you what to do, but you weren't watching just her, were you?’

  She snatched a rogue lock of hair and shoved it behind her ear. The silence answered him. No face slap, no stomping on his toes. She was a martial arts expert, something to which she had alluded when she described how she had thrown her husband out of the house, and she probably could make a humiliating point of it in front of the small gathering. But she hadn't. Her coyness had surprised him. She’d wanted him to ask.

  Immediately there was a problem. ‘My apartment is some distance away. It's late, so perhaps—’

  ‘Mine isn’t. The divorce was generous in that respect; I got the house.’

  They left in a taxi without exchanging a word. They both knew what they wanted. He should feel ashamed, but he didn't. Life was about grabbing opportunities. Each chance encounter of his life had led him to a different place. This was just another one.

  9

  Julia
nna

  Sitting by her side in the back of the cab, Mark had the decency to stay quiet. Turning to face him she slipped her hand across the seat and tangled her fingers through his and rested them on his lap.

  ‘I'm not afraid of us doing this,’ she said, softly. ‘This is what I want. I'm over Alex.’ Maybe she had just fibbed about Alex, but she wanted to make a point – she was with Mark and he could open up to her. He squeezed her hand in reply. He was remarkably calm, and slightly dopey from the alcohol.

  The cab pulled over outside her mews house.

  Shutting the front door, she kicked off her shoes. Mark copied her.

  ‘Nice house. Has character, not like my flat.’

  So far he had only seen the outside of the terrace house and the narrow hallway with its tiled floor. Character didn't extend to dodgy plumbing and electrics.

  ‘It’s small.’ And pricey.

  ‘It’s a house. Allow yourself the honour of having two floors and stairs. I long for stairs.’ He swept his arm up. She didn't need a hint. No script was needed either. The hesitation was due to nerves. It had been nearly two years since Alex last touched her.

  ‘I have a cellar, too.’ She instantly regretted mentioning the cellar. ‘It’s dark…’

  He stepped toward her. ‘We won’t go down there then, because I’d rather see you.’

  Mark was clearly plucking chat up lines out from his readymade stash. She didn’t need them. Reaching up, she tugged on his bow-tie and pulled it apart.

  ‘I’ve always wanted to do that.’ She twisted the ribbon around her finger. ‘Wreck a bow-tie.’

  ‘Good job it’s not elasticated. Anything else you’d like to dismantle?’

  She grinned. ‘Everything.’

  ‘Feel free, but maybe not here. Somewhere more comfortable?’ He raised his eyebrows.

  Again, she held back, battling the doubts.

  ‘You haven’t done this in a while?’ he asked.