Gun Street Girl (11 page)

I've enjoyed more sociable meals. For a start, we were seated as far away from each other as was possible, which given the personality of certain members of the family wasn't a bad idea. Then what with all the fancy silver decorations and flowers and crystal shit that were piled up across the centre of the table, it was difficult to believe that you were doing anything but eating alone. Courtneidge and Constance served the meal.

We ate cold salmon and salad followed by strawberries and cream. It was hardly worth getting all dressed up for. But what did I know? For the previous few months I'd eaten most of my meals out of a tin or between two slices of bread over the kitchen sink to save on the washing up.

We got to the coffee and port stage of the meal with hardly any conversation. But when the cigars came out, the claws came out again with them. I was sitting next to Claire who was placed opposite Catherine, and Simon sat opposite me. We were closest to the foot of the table – which still looked about a mile away – at which Elizabeth was seated. David sat at the head of the table.

Courtneidge left the pot of coffee on the sideboard. The port bottle was moving round the table. I half expected the ladies to leave us but the three of them stayed in their seats as if superglued.

Simon was the first to speak after the two servants had left and Courtneidge had closed the double doors behind them.

‘So how was the launch of your new magazine?' he asked.

‘Excellent,' said Elizabeth.

‘I saw you in the papers this morning. It's a pity I wasn't invited.'

‘Would you have gone?' she asked.

‘Of course,' replied Simon. ‘Anything for a free drink.'

‘Except it wouldn't have been free. Pike Publications were paying for it.'

‘It would have been free to me,' said Simon cattily. ‘I don't have any holdings in the company, as you well know.'

‘Which is why you weren't invited,' piped up Catherine.

‘You bitch.'

‘Steady,' I said.

Simon turned his venom onto me. ‘Oh, the knight in shining armour has woken up. Only it's rather tarnished these days, so I've heard.'

‘Oh, do be quiet, Simon,' said David. ‘You can be such a crashing bore at times. You know we have important things to talk about.'

‘Yes, but I didn't realise we were going to talk in front of the hired help,' said Simon.

I glanced over at Elizabeth and saw the pleading look in her eyes. I didn't take the bait. Simon looked well pissed off and I knew I'd done the right thing.

‘Simon, I shan't tell you again,' said David. ‘Mr Sharman is Elizabeth's guest, and I insist that you treat him as such.'

‘A guest!' spat Simon, but that was all.

‘I'm sorry, Mr Sharman,' David said to me. ‘Now where were we? Oh, yes. Tomorrow, my father's will is going to be read. We are to gather at the solicitors' at ten. I imagine we will all go together with Vincent in the Rolls. Is that satisfactory?'

‘I want Mr Sharman to come,' said Elizabeth.

It was news to me.

‘Whatever for?' asked David.

‘Because I do.'

‘I'm sorry, Elizabeth, but I really can't allow Mr Sharman to be present.'

‘But I want him there.'

‘Why?'

I watched the exchange like a game of tennis with the words being batted back and forth across the white tablecloth.

‘Hey,' I said. ‘Slow down. If you want to talk about me, perhaps I'd better leave.'

‘Stay where you are,' ordered Elizabeth.

‘Yes, ma'am,' I said.

‘My dear Elizabeth,' said David with the kind of exaggerated patience you save for fools and children, ‘is it really necessary?' He looked at me. ‘And forgive me, Mr Sharman, for talking about you as if you weren't here. Is it really necessary for Mr Sharman to be present at the reading of the will?'

‘It really isn't,' I said.

‘It is if I say it is,' responded Elizabeth stubbornly.

‘I could just come along and wait outside,' I offered. I really didn't know what all the fuss was about. I was damn sure I wasn't a beneficiary.

‘That sounds like a fine compromise,' said David. ‘Elizabeth, is that all right with you?'

‘I suppose so,' she said icily. ‘But I don't know why you should always have the last word on everything.'

There was a lot of shit going on under the surface of that room and I didn't particularly want to be around when it floated to the surface and stank the place out.

‘Because he thinks he's going to get lucky in the will tomorrow and end up king of the castle,' Simon said nastily.

‘Why don't you be quiet, Simon,' snapped Catherine. ‘You really do have appalling manners. Perhaps Mr Sharman could teach you a few.'

‘When I need lessons in manners from him or an Australian bastard, I'll ask for them, thank you.'

That did it. I got ready to do a leaper over the table and knock some manners into him.

‘Nick, don't,' Elizabeth begged.

‘So it's Nick, is it?' put in Claire. ‘How cosy.'

‘Shut up, Claire,' shouted Elizabeth. ‘I can't stand any more of this.' She jumped up from her seat, knocking her port across the white damask where it pooled like fresh blood. She threw her napkin into the pool and fled the room.

I pushed my own seat back and followed her. As I went I said to Simon, ‘You've been lucky so far, pal, but your luck's running out.' He toasted me with his port glass and I gave him what I hoped was a killing glare. I might as well have sent him a begging letter.

I chased Elizabeth through corridors and hallways with polished wood floors and panelled walls that amplified our footsteps like gunfire. I caught up with her on a staircase hung with old masters which I wouldn't have given to a dog to look at. I held her by the arm and pulled her round to face me. She was crying and her mascara had run into black lines down her face. She brushed the lines into streaks and leant against the wall, sobbing bitterly.

‘What was all that about?' I asked.

‘Oh Nick,' she said, through her tears. ‘I do so want to keep the family together, but I feel like I'm banging my head against a brick wall.'

‘Maybe you're trying too hard.'

‘At least tomorrow when the will's been read we'll know what's happening.'

‘There seems to be enough to go round. Why worry?'

‘Because it was Daddy's company, and his life, and now he's gone. I want to see it get bigger and better. I miss him so much. And now you tell me that Catherine, my one true friend, is in danger.'

‘Elizabeth,' I said, ‘don't get hysterical.'

But she was. Her hands had fisted and she was waving them all over the shop. I hate all that shit, always have. I didn't want to slap her like in the films, so instead I avoided her flying fists and moved in and held her tightly. She was as stiff as one of the canvases on the wall. I could feel her heart beating.

‘Stop it,' I said and she gave one last desperate sob and grabbed at me. Her body arched and all the pain in the world was in her voice as she tried to speak. ‘Relax,' I said. ‘Just let it all out.'

She did, all down the front of my new suit. There must have been a gallon of grief inside her and my new wool worsted soaked it all up. I held her and rocked her and slowly she calmed down. Finally I let her go and she stepped back. She was out of breath and her make-up was a ruin.

She saw me looking and said, ‘I must look awful.'

I could have written the script.

‘You look great,' I said, and she did.

‘I've never cried before, not properly. Not since Daddy died. Just little weeps. I feel better for that. Thanks, Nick.'

‘A pleasure.'

‘I ruined your suit.'

I looked down and she was right. ‘Forget it.'

‘I'll buy you a new one.'

Why do rich people always have to spoil things? I can never get over it.

‘Never mind,' I said.

‘Have I said something wrong?'

‘No,' I replied, and she hadn't. Not by her standards. She just had too much money.

She didn't look convinced. ‘Are you sure?'

I smiled – why shouldn't I? I'd just held a very beautiful woman very close and it had felt good.

‘I promise,' I said. ‘I'm glad to be a help.'

‘I'll be better with you around.'

I felt about ten feet tall. ‘Good,' I said.

‘I'm going to my room now.' She smiled. ‘I'm going to take a bath and have an early night. I hate to desert you, but I feel exhausted, and I must get my beauty sleep.'

‘I can't think of anyone who needs it less,' I said.

‘You're so gallant, Mr Sharman.'

‘I'm a bit out of it myself. I think I'll turn in early too.' It was true, I was cream crackered.

‘Take a look around,' she urged. ‘And treat the place as your own. Everyone else does.' She added the last three words bitterly.

‘I will,' I said. ‘Just take it easy. I'll sort everything out.'

‘I only hope you can.'

‘Don't worry.'

‘I'll organise a dinner jacket for you in the morning. I'm so sorry about that. I didn't mean to make you look a fool.'

‘Don't worry. It's hardly the biggest social gaffe I've ever made.'

‘Let's meet for breakfast and we'll talk then,' she suggested.

‘I'll look forward to it.'

‘Good night then.'

‘Good night, Elizabeth.'

I thought she was going to say more and I wanted her to. But she just blew me a kiss and walked up the stairs into the shadows, vanishing like a wraith.

I didn't go back to the remnants of dinner, instead I made my way back to my suite and switched on the TV in the sitting room and made myself a vodka and tonic. I looked out of the french windows and lit a cigarette. The air outside was heavy and dusty and there was no trace of a breeze. I didn't bother putting on any lights but just allowed the TV screen to illuminate the room with its flickering colours as darkness came.

Finally, when it was fully dark, I switched on a small table lamp and looked at the pile of butts in the ashtray. I threw two empty tonic bottles into the wastepaper basket and decided to hit the sack. I pulled myself off the sofa, feeling old and weary. There was a tap on the door. I went over and opened it. Catherine was leaning against the door frame with a bottle of champagne in each hand. ‘Hi, Nick,' she said. ‘I thought you'd run out on me.'

‘No,' I replied. ‘I just wasn't crazy about the company you were keeping.'

‘You wanna know a secret? Neither was I. So I liberated two bottles of the best shampoo that Pike money can buy and here I am. Can I come in?'

I stepped back into the room. ‘Of course. You're welcome.'

‘Thanks.'

‘There should be some glasses.'

‘If there isn't, this is not part of the Pike empire.'

I found two flutes in the glass collection on top of the fridge. Catherine eased the cork off one of the bottles with an ease born of practice. She filled both glasses and we touched rims. ‘To crime,' she said.

‘And punishment,' I replied.

She sat on the sofa and the skirt of her dress slid up her thighs. I averted my eyes and offered her a cigarette. ‘Thank you.' As she leaned forward to accept a light I could just about see her navel. If she was trying to get me at it, she was succeeding admirably.

‘Can we have some music?' she asked.

‘There isn't any.'

‘Of course there is.' She came out of the depths of the sofa like a cat and went over to the bookcase. She fiddled around and a section slid open. Inside was a cute little stereo system. She switched it on and found an FM stereo station playing jazz standards without the benefit of some jerk of a DJ. She adjusted the volume so that Anita O'Day oozed out of the concealed speakers like syrup off a warm pancake.

‘Amazing,' I said.

‘Didn't Miranda tell you about this when she showed you your rooms? I'll have words with her in the morning.'

‘Don't do that,' I said. ‘I think my private eye charisma was blinding her when she showed me up.'

‘I'm not surprised,' said Catherine. ‘It's been doing the same to me.' She dimpled prettily and I dimpled prettily back. At least I think I did.

Anita O'Day was replaced by Ray Charles doing
One Mint Julep
and Catherine said, ‘Wanna dance?'

‘Sure.' She came into my arms and tucked her head into my neck and I smelt the freshness of her. Her body fitted mine down to the finest detail.

We danced to Ray Charles, then Ella singing
Where or When
, then Sinatra's version of
Love for Sale
, until Jimmy Smith pounded out
Hobo Flats
which defeated us both and we collapsed onto the sofa.

‘That was nice,' she said.

‘It was, it's been a while.'

‘A while what?'

‘Since I danced with anyone.'

‘I don't believe that.' She topped up our glasses and lit a cigarette.

Suddenly she leant over and kissed me on the side of the mouth. She tasted of tobacco and alcohol and her lips were as soft and slippery as melted butter.

‘Are you trying to seduce me?' I asked.

‘Could be, but it's not me you want, is it?'

‘What?'

‘It's Elizabeth, isn't it?'

‘Shit, Catherine.'

‘We could just have a fuck and leave it at that,' she said.

‘I don't think it's good practice to sleep with the clients.'

She thought about it for a moment. ‘But I'm not really your client, Elizabeth is.'

‘You're close enough for comfort, and you're splitting hairs.'

‘How about getting smashed with the client?'