Special Relationship (3 page)

She laughed. "Reminds me of when I turned sixteen and I went to see a film every day for three weeks because I liked the guy in the ticket office. Not only was he about ten years older than me but I also found out he was gay.”

“Bad luck,” he laughed.

"Sorry, you and the trainer?"

"Well, after about three months and a small fortune in training costs, I noticed her body language was telling me... that - to put it as modestly as I can - she rather liked me too. And not just for the bills."

"How did you know?"

"Oh classic signs are overly-long eye contact, hair touching and - in her case – in the gym I often caught her glancing... oh no, I can't say that, we have just met.”

She guessed what he meant.

"So what happened?"

"She left her husband and we have been married for eighteen years."

"But what about the poor husband?"

"I feel guilty to this day. I never met the man but I think about him quite often and what might have happened in his life since then, and how much he must hate me. I just think myself and Laura - that's my wife - were meant to be together.

"At least there were no children involved but even if there were I can't say we would have acted differently.

"She never once said he was a bad husband or anything, just that - trying to be modest here - she wasn't in love with him but was with me. So what to do?"

She reflected but not for long enough before saying the first thought that entered her mind. “So if the new marriage works out it's OK to destroy someone's life?"

He looked a little aghast and Alex, embarrassed what she had just said, sipped some more drink before trying to rescue herself.

"No,
Tavis, you can't expect anyone to stay with someone else in any relationship if they are not happy."

"Anyway, we are now approaching our dotage as much as in love as we were then. We have two fantastic kids and I am totally faithful, not that I am likely to have the opportunity to be anything other nowadays."

Alex liked him despite his infidelity and, for a man she'd only just met, his overly inquisitive questions about her past.

She sipped some more as they talked and joked, and then Katherine came over to the two of them, with a big smile - and her winnings in a bundle of fifty pound notes.

"There you go young lady, here is your reward for showing expert horse racing knowledge...it didn't cost us a penny and you won this."

Alex was hesitant. "But..."

"Shut up, and take it. Like I said, it didn't cost us a penny...or a cent as you would say."

Alex laughed. "OK, I could do with another pair of shoes. Thanks Katherine."

"And how are you Tavis? I hope you haven't been leading this lady astray."

"No not at all. If anything it's been the other way round. She's a terrible flirt but I've made it clear to her that I'm happily married."

"And that you are old enough to be her dad?" quipped Katherine.

"My dear woman, as you know I'm getting on for sixty in body but I retain the mind of a man half that age," he retorted. "You, I have to say, will be happy to age as well as me. " The two of them smiled at each other with what to Alex seemed genuine affection.

Alex put on her own bets for the rest of the day. She welcomed the air and the exercise, and staked £10 on each of Tavis's four “certain winners” which all finished down the field. She reprimanded him for his poor judgement.

Then, with the last race of the day already being run and some of the guests in the suite starting to collect their coats, Katherine came back to them. "You will be joining us at Nick's place to celebrate his - and your - good fortune with
Manarola?"

"I'd love to, but
Tavis has plied me with whisky, and I think I might fall asleep before I arrived."

With that, Katherine walked briskly to the table where sandwiches and drinks remained, and poured coffee into a cup which carried the logo of the racecourse. "Black and strong, drink it quickly and I'll arrange you a car," she said.

Alex thought quickly and decided it was too good an opportunity to turn down. Good for her business and good for herself as she had such a good day already and really didn't want it to end.

"Are you going
Tavis?"

"Yes, of course, lots of free booze, and the opportunity to further work on my assessment of an American with a secret or two."

No sooner had she been ushered into the back of a silver Mercedes with two other guests from the function than she began to worry about her decision. I don't even know where we are going, she thought. And how the hell am I going to get home if we end up miles into the countryside?

She turned to one of her fellow passengers.

"Hi, I'm Alex," holding out her hand to a jolly-looking woman in a floral dress who was probably in her seventies.

"I'm Lady Ashton, very pleased to meet you."

Alex tried not to gulp while pondering how to address a Lady. Not something she was taught in High School back in New York.

"Please call me Eleanor or Ellie, no formalities here, darling." And this is my husband, Lord Ashton. He is a pompous old fool but just refer to him as 'Henry' since that is his name."

White-haired and moustached Lord Ashton le
ant across to shake Alex's hand.

"Very pleased to meet you, dear. American aren't you?"

"Yes, sir," she replied. "But I have lived in London quite a while now."

"And what brought you over here my girl?"

"Oh..err..it was just meant to be a tourist trip at first but I guess I fell in love with England and decided to stay."

"Well, I'm always pleased to welcome good people from the colonies," he said with a very loud laugh.

"Oh please, Henry, leave her alone," said Lady Ashton. "She doesn't want to be bothered by a bumbling old fool like you."

Alex blushed. "Oh not at all Lady..
err..Eleanor...Lord Ashton is not bothering me at all."

"See, my dear, I still have it in me," the Lord said to his wife and broke out into another very loud laugh.

The traffic leaving the racecourse was heavy and progress was slow. Alex spotted a sign 'London, 25 miles', but had no idea whether that was the destination, or whether the next roundabout would divert them as far away as the Cotswolds or wherever else Nick Hensen might have chosen to buy a home with his considerable fortune.

She decided she could bear it no more and risked making herself look foolish.

"This sounds really silly, but I accepted an invitation to Mr Hensen's post-race party to celebrate his win today, and I have actually no idea where he lives," she said, trying to give the impression that their destination was of little importance.

"Scotland, dear girl," said Lord Ashton with another hearty laugh.

"Oh, don't be silly, Henry," his wife rebuked him.

"Nick lives in Mayfair, London, Alex, and please don't worry about getting home afterwards because you are welcome to stay with us once the party is over.

"And where do you live, my dear?"

"Nowhere so
glamorous as Mayfair, I'm afraid. I live on the east side.. Shoreditch - I don't know if you have heard of it?"

"I've heard of it.
Sewer Ditch!" blasted Lord Ashton. "That's where it got its name from, used to be a bog you know."

Lady Ashton looked at Alex. "Forgive him, dear. He reads a lot but tends to remember the myths and forget the facts."

"Not at all, Ellie, old girl. I just read a history of London and I know that Shoreditch was named after a sewer, Mayfair was named after a fair that took place in May....And the Isle of Dogs was so named because that was where King Henry VIII kept his hunting dogs - on an island so he wouldn't hear them bark at night."

Alex tried not to laugh. She liked the banter between the Lord and Lady, the same as you'd hear from the locals in any London pub. Finally, and at the risk of offending a Lord, she was could suppress her laughter no more after Lady Ashton remarked: "Mayfair means a fair in May? My dear Henry, you don't have to be a genius to work that one out."

She was still smiling discreetly as they entered London.

The driver, in front of a glass partition, apparently oblivious to their conversation, kept the car at a modest pace and in the same lane while now even heavier traffic fought for road space wherever they could get it.

Eventually they arrived in Park Lane and the Mercedes came to a stop outside a block of twelve stories made up of a striking mix of old brick with a contemporary steel and glass extension on top.

"Right let's get out and stretch my legs," said Lord Ashton, not waiting for the driver to open the door for him, grabbing at the handle and jumping out with impressive alacrity for a man who, Alex thought, was five to ten years older than his wife.

"Madam," said the driver after opening the door next to her. She got out, thanking him, and walked round the car to join Lord Ashton. His wife, ample in stature, took quite some time to do the same. The three of them entered the revolving doors of the block where a uniformed porter, a small, bald man of about sixty, greeted them.

"Lord and Lady Ashton and Alex...
err.." announced the Lord.

"Anderson," said Alex.

"We are here to see Nicholas Hensen," he added.

"Yes, the three of you are expected," the porter replied. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

Expected? That Katherine Price is sure good at her job, Alex thought.

"No, old boy, we'll be fine. We'll just go up if we may," said the Lord.

"I've been here a couple of times before, top floor and straight in?"

"Yes that's right, sir. Have a pleasant evening."

The three of them entered a lift which for Alex's taste was rather too mirror-and-lights glitzy.

But, when they arrived at floor twelve, this particular elevator also revealed its practical side. When the metal door opened it revealed a glass door behind, preventing them from entering the flat, although allowing them to see inside and the people there. Bullet proof and unbreakable, she guessed.

Inside, from a crowd of about fifteen people, Katherine Price approached, pressed some buttons on the wall and the glass opened. "Hello everyone, glad you all came. We are waiting for six more after you and then that should be it. That's unless someone turns up who wasn't invited," she smiled.

Alex was stunned. She had seen apartments like this in glossy magazines, both sides of the Atlantic, but never experienced in person what you actually get for your millions of dollars or pounds.

"It's certainly bright and very white" she thought and remembered the way she had left her rather scruffy flat with her jeans on the bedroom floor and unwashed dishes in the kitchen.

She pondered more. Whoever had designed the flat had left no expense spared. The tiled flooring, the beautiful art, the very expensive furniture and a massive ultra thin TV hanging on the wall. There was gentle classical music playing, piped it seemed from the walls, floor and ceiling.

She thought that her Democratic-voting sister might consider the place an ostentatious show of wealth. And, worried that she would be the guest who spilt red wine on the nearly-white seating, considered whether she could ever feel comfortable in such a home.

I suppose, she concluded, that if you can afford a place like this it doesn't really matter if you ruin a couch that would probably cost a year of her salary.

The views from the flat were breathtaking. Depending on which room, you could see the financial area of the city, the greenery of Hyde Park or South Bank with its theatres and London Eye.

"In
Manhattan, you would need to go to about floor sixty to get a view like this," she said to Katherine who had brought her champagne.

"Lucky London isn't so tall. Come here, let me show you this."

She escorted Alex to the outside terrace from where the views were even more breathtaking. "Just like the balcony at the races, but another part of the world to watch."

"But more than a balcony. And, at the races, I didn't see hot tubs."

Katherine laughed and then, looking at her mobile phone as it beeped, said: "Nick will be here in a few minutes, shall we offer our congratulations."

"Katherine," Alex said urgently in a near whisper as they went inside, "Do I call him Mr
Hensen or Nick?"

"He won't mind, don't worry about it."

With no glass door to open – somehow the lift knew it was him – Nick, followed by Tavis, walked straight out. "I'm so sorry everyone, it's really rude as a host to arrive late for your own party, but we stopped off at the racecourse stables to give Manarola a pat and a mint."

The guests laughed and raised their glasses.

"To Manarola!" roared Lord Ashton.

"Hear, hear," responded several of the guests.

"Thank you so much everyone.