Connections (31 page)

“Ben? Back? Oh God!” cried Jess.

“Can you do it?” Fleur asked desperately. “I'm in a call box – the money's running out.”

“Give me the details,” demanded Jess and Fleur did so.

“But where's he going to—?” asked Jess. The connection was broken. Yes, thought Fleur, as she went back into the classroom, that's what I'm wondering – where's he going to sleep? Perhaps he had somewhere fixed up already. Perhaps.

When Fleur arrived in Debs' luxurious office, where Jess was mixing herself a martini, there was no sign of Ben. Fleur thought hopefully that he must have arrived there, then gone off somewhere else. She was surprised at how much of a relief this seemed to be. It was, she told herself, nothing to do with Ben. It was just not a good moment for this. Then she grinned, remembering how she and Jess had once laughed at people who
used that phrase, “Not the best possible moment”, when asked to help.

“The driver called from Heathrow,” Jess told her. “The flight's three hours late so he's still there, waiting. The plane's due in any time now.”

Fleur said, “Oh.”

“You don't look happy and excited,” Jess observed.

“It's not the best possible moment,” Fleur told her. Jess smiled. “Maybe I'll feel different when he turns up. At the moment it's the last straw. I've had a shock about my father – don't ask.”

“Forget it, Fleur,” Jess told her. “Let's get something done before Ben walks in. Did you find anything?”

“No. Did you?”

“No. Here's another couple of scripts from agencies. This one came in today by hand from Adam Wheeler. It was almost in production in Hollywood at one time only the financing collapsed. He thinks we could get it if we wanted it. It's about a man on the run with a baby.”

Fleur groaned. “Calls first, then faxes,” she said. Jess handed her a sheaf of slips.

Almost an hour passed and they had just begun on the faxes when Ben walked in with a holdall over his shoulder. He dumped it on the floor, embraced Fleur, kissed Jess on the cheek and said, “Well – busy girls – what goes on?”

When they'd told him he said, “Phew, not bad. Any chance of a drink?”

Fleur moved to get it for him just as Jess said, “Help yourself.” He did this, saying, “I was hoping for some dinner. Believe it or not, it's been twelve hours and I never eat on planes.”

“We have to finish up here,” Jess said. “This is a second job for both of us at the moment. We have to set things up quickly.”

“Fleur?” Ben said. “You can finish up here, can't you, Jess?”

Jess said, “Why don't you go down to Bonzo's and we'll come along in half an hour?”

“OK,” he said and turned. “Oh – I've got no cash. Has Camera Shake got a tab at Bonzo's, Jess?”

“I'll make a call,” she offered.

“Thanks,” he said and as he went added, “Guess what I've got in my bag – a script you'll love.”

“Who by?” Jess asked.

“Me, naturally.”

After Ben had gone Jess ran both hands through her thick curly hair. “By me, naturally,” she echoed. “Every time I see Ben I think he's going to fling a scarf lightly round his neck and say, ‘Well, chaps. Must dash. I'm just off to a tutorial at Balliol,' and then stride off youthfully through the dreaming spires.” She added, picking up a pen, “That Oxbridge manner's worth every penny they pay for it. Pity they never seem to pay for anything afterwards.”

“You're just jealous because you never went to university,” Fleur said.

“I am,” Jess agreed with the phone in her hand. “Is Dick there? Good. It's Jess Stadlen. A man called Ben Campbell's coming in. I'll be in later. Can you look after him?”

“You don't like Ben, do you?” Fleur asked.

“Of course I like him,” she said. “He does good work if he's given the chance. But he needs to be teamed up with someone who'll keep him on the straight and narrow. Handle the boring bits.” She looked hard at Fleur. “He's a magnet to women like you, Fleur. Nice, intelligent women from decent homes who look for clever, talented men who'll treat them apparently as equals.” She shook her head. “Dream on.”

Fleur didn't reply and went on sending faxes. Then she said, “We need a mission statement, Jess. I'm faxing all these writers and agencies saying vaguely we want to make films. It's not enough.”

“I know,” Jess said. “Let's think something up.”

And they did, though as they did so Fleur became increasingly conscious of Ben sitting in Bonzo's, waiting. Occasionally she thought of what Dominic and Joe had told her about her father's behaviour on the night Vanessa was attacked.

“Well, that's it. Three sentences – small to medium budget films with something to say depending on skill and viewpoint of writers and directors and brilliance of British actors, with valuable
US input or words to that effect, in any order you like,” said Jess. “Is that good enough?”

“Better than nothing,” said Fleur, scribbling.

“Is there something on your mind, apart from me being nasty?” Jess asked her a little later.

Fleur did not look up from the computer, “Yes,” she said. “There is. But I can't stop to tell you.”

“Bad?” hazarded Jess.

“I think so,” Fleur said.

“About Ben or that next-door Irishman?”

“My father,” said Fleur.

Jess said no more until fifteen minutes later when she suggested, “Let's stop.”

“Right,” said Fleur. She tidied up, closed down the file on which she was logging their present activities and fell into one of Debs' deep easy chairs. “Jess – can I tell you something?”

“As long as it doesn't end with you asking me to take Ben home with me,” Jess said evenly.

“It's not that,” Fleur said. “Though isn't it funny how we argued about him once?”

“We probably will again,” Jess said. “He's just suffering from a temporary desirability failure. But hurry up, Fleur. We've got to get to Bonzo's. I'd like to get home, see my husband tonight.”

Fleur sat down and told Jess about the attack on Vanessa by the Russian, and what Dominic and Joe were saying about her father's part in the affair.

After she'd finished Jess said nothing for a while. Then she commented, “They could have been mistaken. But from his description it sounds as if the Russian could have been this Tallinn they're all looking for.”

“Who's he?” Fleur asked.

“There's some sort of a mystery,” Jess told her. “He'd been caught smuggling plutonium. Apparently he was in Britain but the Germans wanted him and now he's on the run. Probably back in Russia by now. I'm not sure of the details, but Adrian's interested. They've got an idea at the paper there might be a story in it but they can't get enough to make it stand up. Adrian's got the
photos of him – he's fantastically attractive in a frightening sort of way. Young and very skinny with long hair, so fair it's white. Very distinctive. That's why I wonder if he's the same man who attacked this girl. But he couldn't have been with your father – what would your father be doing with a man like that? I'll get a couple of the pictures of him from Adrian. You can show them to the others.” She paused. “Listen – Fleur – are you taking Ben home with you tonight?”

“That depends what his plans are.”

“Trust me – he hasn't got any,” Jess assured her.

At Bonzo's they got a table and had a short dinner. Jess signed the bill and left. Fleur told Ben, “Unless you've got any money we'd better leave.”

“What happened to the big-time new job?”

“I only just started. I haven't been paid.”

“Let's go home, then. I'll get a bottle of wine.”

Ben cashed in some dollars he had in his wallet and they bought the wine and got on the tube for Cray Hill. On the train Ben counted out the stops on the tube map. “Not very central, is it?”

“No, but it's very downmarket when you get there,” she told him.

They sat silently side by side as the train rattled on. Ben looked discouraged, sorry to be back in Britain perhaps, she thought, and certainly pretty sorry to be going to Cray Hill with her.

“I spoke to Gerry Sullivan about Verity's debts,” she finally said. “I've got an appointment with a firm he says will help. Do you want to come along?”

“Not much, but I suppose I ought to,” he said.

“How did it go with Arnoldson?”

“I got to New York, slept in a rat-trap hotel, had a meeting which was pretty obviously just a courtesy to Arnoldson, spent a bit of time with some friends in Cape Cod. It was freezing. I left before I committed suicide. Look, Fleur, you did me a lot of damage by running like that. By the time I returned to New York I was just the guy Dickie Jethro's daughter had left Barbados to escape. It didn't help my credibility. The word was out, suspect
this man. The result of the meeting in New York was more or less a foregone conclusion.”

“Was that what they all thought – I'd gone because of you?” Fleur asked.

“They didn't say so openly. But they didn't really need to, did they? They'd picked me up and brought me over because of you and suddenly there wasn't any you. People were bound to wonder. The reality is, when you left like that you didn't just fuck yourself up, you fucked me up too. You left me with egg on my face, Fleur. Admit it.”

“I can't really deny it, can I?” said Fleur sulkily.

The air in the empty carriage was full of rancour. Fleur wondered how on earth they were going to coexist in her small flat.

They got out of the train and walked down Cray Hill High Street in silence. Fleur wasn't looking forward to Ben's reaction to her flat. And then there was Dominic. Ever since Ben's announcement that he was returning she had been deliberately not thinking about Dominic's reaction to him. But they'd meet sooner or later, she knew that.

The meeting came sooner. They'd almost reached the pub when, on the other side of the road, she saw Dominic and Joe in working clothes, carrying toolbags. They were practically opposite when the pair decided to go into the pub for a drink before going home. They started to cross the road.

“Hi,” said Joe, spotting Fleur and Ben.

“Hi,” said Fleur without enthusiasm. “Ben – next-door neighbours, Dominic and Joe. Dominic and Joe – Ben.”

Ben, though travel-worn, was wearing expensive casual clothes including a pricey leather jacket. Dominic and Joe were in jeans and donkey jackets.

“Hullo, Ben,” Dominic said in a very friendly way. “We were just going in for a quick one. Do you two want to come? It's on me. We're on overtime for the foreseeable. The contractors are behind and they've got a penalty clause. We'll be rich men when it's done.”

“Well,” said Fleur, looking at Ben doubtfully and hoping he
would refuse the invitation. She didn't want this meeting. But Ben was quick enough to suspect this and said, “Sure. Why not? Just a quick one and then we'll head home.”

As soon as they sat down and Patrick had brought over some beers, Dominic opened by raising his glass and saying, “Cheers, Ben. Good to meet you at last. Heard a lot about you.”

“Is that a fact?” said Ben. “I haven't heard anything about you.”

“Lots to find out, then,” Dominic said cheerfully.

“I'm looking forward to it,” Ben told him. “What are you working on?”

“A big new bank in the City. The tallest building since – since the last tall building, I suppose … You do TV documentaries, then, do you? Anything particular at the moment?”

“That's what I'm here for,” Ben told him. “To set something up. Oh,” he said, turning to Fleur, “can you read that script of mine tonight?”

“I'll try,” said Fleur.

“Keep the women working, that's the idea,” Joe said. “Can't do much of that in the building trade – there aren't enough women involved. I wish there were.”

“They'll end up taking over,” Ben predicted.

“It'd be a change,” Dominic said.

“Just wait, mate. You'll find out,” Ben said warningly.

Fleur had been nervous about the encounter between Dominic and Ben partly because she suspected Dominic might get aggressive, a fear which subsided when Dominic had greeted Ben like a long-lost brother. Her second worry was that Ben would guess she'd been sleeping with Dominic. He might not immediately suspect that Fleur would have begun a relationship with a man off a building site, but Dominic's spectacular good looks could make him start to wonder fairly soon.

“I read something that said if you've got enough confidence in yourself, a woman boss doesn't bother you,” Dominic informed Ben.

Ben took it badly. “Oh – you're a bit of a reader are you?” he
questioned, his voice rising. “Where would you have picked up that little item – the agony page of the
Sun?
”

Dominic agreed. “That was probably it.”

Fleur intervened, “I didn't have a chance to tell you, Dominic, but I've got a new job. I think I'm going to have to give Patrick notice.”

“Shame to give up a good job like that,” he said. “What's the new one?”

Fleur explained, adding, “I know you're not in love with Jess—”

“Who is?” asked Ben. Fleur frowned at him as if to tell him she knew about his brief affair with Jess. Undeterred he said, “She may be your friend but you've got to admit she's a bit of a bitch.”

Fleur told Dominic, “Her husband's got some pictures of a Russian for you to look at. Might be the same man.”

“Right,” said Dominic, thinking.

“What Russian's this?” asked Ben.

Joe asked, “What pictures?”

“The man seems to be a criminal. He's in the news and Jess's husband has some photographs.”