A Class Apart (52 page)

Nick tried to shake off his feelings of ambivalence about Kate’s dependence on her father. On more than one occasion he had attempted to talk to her about it, but she always refused to discuss it, treating it as if he were making a fuss over nothing.

But maybe there was something he could do about it, and who knows, with the way things were going lately, he might even try. He walked into the bathroom of his bachelor flat in Holland Park, and turned on the light. Catching sight of his reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall he threw himself a complacent grin, and winked. Yes, maybe the time was approaching, at long last. He wondered what she would say, and then he smiled again.

“Will you hurry up,” said Bob, turning back and taking Ellamarie by the arm.

“In case you hadn’t noticed,” said Ellamarie, raising her voice over the din of the traffic, “I’m trying to drop a hint.”

Bob’s eyes were twinkling, but he said nothing and turned to walk on.

“OK, I know, taking hints was never a strong point with you,” she remarked, walking after him.

“Ellamarie, we have been up and down Bond Street at least three times, and now you’ve dragged me down to Knightsbridge. If you want an engagement ring, couldn’t you at least pick somewhere a little less expensive?”

“So you had noticed!”

“Well, as we’ve stopped at every jeweller’s we’ve passed so far, I’d be some kind of an idiot if I hadn’t noticed, wouldn’t I?”

“So? Can I have one?”

He looked at her.

“Please!”

They were blocking the pavement, and he moved to let some people go by, but she didn’t miss the look on his face before he turned away. The sparkle had seemed to disappear from his eyes. Her face fell. He was going to say no.

“Don’t you think we’re just a little premature?” he said, turning back to her. He put his arm round her shoulders and tried steering her through the crowds. “I mean, I haven’t even told my wife yet.”

“But you’ll be telling her at the weekend,” Ellamarie pointed out. “It’ll probably need adjusting, so if we order it now it should be ready without us being premature.”

The crowd suddenly thickened again and Bob pushed her in front of him to go through. He almost laughed to see the way she was walking. She didn’t even show yet, not even when she was naked, yet she was wearing a smock, and was practically waddling instead of walking. He caught up with her again, and she turned to look at him. Her eyes were pleading, and she was pouting. “All right,” he relented, “if it makes you happy. Have you seen anything you like?”

“Oh Bob!” she cried, and flung her arms round his neck. “We’re getting engaged,” she said to a man in a bowler hat as he pushed past them. The man nodded, and smiled, and Bob felt very embarrassed.

“Not so loud,” he said.

“But I want the whole world to know.”

“Wait until next week. If anyone recognises me, it’ll be all over the press, and I don’t want my wife finding out like that.”

Ellamarie sighed. “No, I suppose not. But what about the people in the jewellers? They might recognise you.”

“Precisely,” said Bob, who hadn’t actually thought of that. “All the more reason to shop for one next week. What do you say?”

She seemed reluctant.

“It does make sense,” he said.

“Do you promise? Next week?”

“I promise. Now, didn’t you say you wanted to go to Harrods before we went home?”

She nodded, and took hold of his hand. Sometimes she was like a child, he thought, only happy when she got her own way. But he loved her, for better or for worse, and in truth he loved the worse every bit as much as the better.

He hadn’t allowed himself to consider what he was going to say to Linda. He was putting it off, and even now his heart contracted to think of the pain he was going to cause her.

Matthew ambled across the room, and helped himself to a Scotch. Jenneen remained standing at the door, watching him.

“So,” he said, taking his Scotch across to the settee and making himself at home, “how did the pilot go?”

Her eyes narrowed, and he smiled.

“What do you know about it?” she said.

“Oh. you’d be surprised what I know. Today, wasn’t it?”

Jenneen regarded him coldly. It didn’t take long to work it out. “I didn’t realise you knew Stephen Sommers,” she said. “But of course, it’s a dose-knit community in the world of drug addicts and alcoholics, isn’t it?”

He grinned. “Aren’t you going to have a drink?” he waved his glass towards her bar.

“How did you get him to tell you?”

He shrugged and slurped at the whisky.

“Don’t tell me you paid him for the information?”

“I might have.”

“With the money I gave you?” She smiled bitterly at the irony of the situation.

“Well,” he said, “it was today, wasn’t it?”

“Why bother to ask when you already know the answer?”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And, how did it go?”

“All right.”

“All right. Is that all?”

“I don’t want to discuss it with you, Matthew. It’s none of your damned business, so just tell me what you want, and go.”

“None of my business?” He leaned back and lifted his feet onto the coffee table.

“No. So get on with it. How much do you want? Or should I say how much does Stephen want?”

He took a large mouthful of Scotch. “Nothing,” and he grinned as he saw the look on her face turn from surprise to suspicion.

“Then exactly why are you here?”

“That’s just what I’m about to tell you,” he answered. “Why don’t you come and sit down?”

“I’m perfectly all right where I am, thank you,” she said, leaning against the door. “And stop playing host in my flat.”

“Jenneen,” he drawled, “just in case you had forgotten, I can do precisely what I like in your flat.”

She folded her arms. “Get on with it. What do you want?”

He got up, and she waited while he went to refill his glass. “I want a part in your programme,” he said simply, turning to face her.

“You what!” she gasped.

“I want a part in your programme.”

“You’re crazy.”

His face hardened.

“It’s a magazine show, Matthew, not a drama. There’s nothing in it for you.”

“You’re looking for a reporter, aren’t you?”

“A reporter, yes. Not an actor.”

“Around the sets of movies being shot in England?”

She looked at his face, bloated and ugly, and realisation began to dawn.

“Could find myself a couple of good parts that way,” he said, confirming her fears. And he went to sit down again.

“But we’re looking for someone who knows the business,” she said.

“I’m an actor, don’t you think I know the business?”

“Yes, as an actor. But you’re not a journalist. How can you write scripts, or do pieces to camera? Oh, for God’s sake, I don’t even know why I’m having this conversation, it’s too ridiculous for words.”

“I can do it.”

“You can’t!”

“Oh yes I can,” he said. “And what’s more, you’re going to see to it that I do.”

“Forget it,” she snapped. “You’re not right for it, you can’t do it, and what’s more you’re not bloody well going to do it. So get it out of your head right now.”

“Jenneen,” he said, crossing one leg over the other, “I want that job. If I don’t get it, starting the same day as you, then you won’t be starting either.”

She felt the muscles in her face begin to freeze. “You can’t ruin this for me, Matthew, you can’t. I’ve worked hard for this, it’s what I’ve always wanted. Can’t you leave me alone? I give you money, isn’t that enough?”

“Nope,” he said. “I’ve decided I want more.”

“But I’ve got no more to give.” She looked at him, and felt a violent hatred erupting inside. “You sadistic bastard!” she hissed. “You’re ruining my life, and you’re fucking well enjoying it!”

“That’s right,” he said, and this time his voice was tinged with anger.

Suddenly the strain of the last few days took hold of her, and she felt her control slipping away. “You fucking son of a bitch!” she yelled. “Get out of here! And don’t ever show your ugly face here again. Go on, get out! Get out of my life. The very sight of you makes me sick, sitting there throwing back the whisky like some fucking moronic distillery. You’re a waste of space, Matthew. Why don’t you do us all a favour and take the bottle with you and drink yourself to death.”

He leapt up from his chair and threw his glass to the floor. “Don’t you speak to me like that, you bitch!” he snarled. “Not a little tramp like you.” He caught her by the hair and yanked her round to face him.

“Let go of me!”

“Shut your mouth!” he yelled, and slapped her hard across the face.

She gasped, and then lashed out with her fists, but he was too strong for her. “Stop it! Stop!” she cried, but he was pulling her across the room, tearing at her hair.

He threw her against the wall. “Now just you see to it that I get that job. And I’m telling you now, I will want an answer the next time I’m round. And it’d better be the right one.”

“It’s not my decision. I don’t have that sort of power.” She could hardly get the words out, he was squeezing her jaw so tightly.

“I don’t think you’re hearing me,” he said, lifting his hand ready to strike another blow. “If I don’t do this programme, then you don’t either. Get it? Now, it’s up to you.”

She looked at the threatening hand, and then back into his face. He was glowering down at her, his hair falling across his bloodshot eyes, saliva dripping from his mouth. She pulled back her head as far as she could, and spat into his face.

The blow to her head was agonising, and she fell to the floor. He was standing over her, and suddenly she felt a searing pain in her side. And another, and another. He was kicking her with a reckless and insane violence, as though he meant to carry on until he killed her. She tried to get away, but he came after her, pushing her back to the floor. And all the time he called her the names she had called herself, and taunted her with the sinister truth of her life.

Finally she managed to crawl under the table, where he could no longer reach her. Curling herself into a ball, she waited to see what he would do. She could hear him breathing, and watched his legs as he stood there for an instant, then went back to the small bar she kept on the sideboard. She could taste the blood in her mouth; she held on tightly to her body, shivering and shaking, trying to hold her battered self together. He turned round, and took a step towards the table. She held her breath.

“Get out from there, bitch!”

She didn’t move.

“I said get out,” he yelled, and she saw the contents of her bar go crashing to the floor.

Still she didn’t move.

He picked up a chair and threw it across the room. Then, getting to his knees, he looked under the table. She forced herself back, wincing with pain, but he reached out and grabbed her. “That’s it,” he said, pulling her towards him. “Suffer, you bitch. Suffer!”

“Stop it, Matthew. Please,” she begged. “No more.”

“I said suffer,” he yelled, and banged her head against the floor.

“Stop! Stop!” she screamed.

He threw her backwards, and got to his feet. “Get up.”

She looked up at him, terror making her eyes bulge from her head.

“Get up!” he yelled.

Never taking her eyes from him, she reached out for the edge of the table, and began to pull herself to her feet. She was sobbing quietly, as much with pain as fear. Finally she managed to drag herself up, gasping at the pain in her side, and fell back into a chair.

“Please,” she said, as he started to come towards her. “Please, don’t hit me again.”

He stood over her, very drunk now, and she cowered away. Then he took her by the throat again, and forced her face up to his.

“The job,” he snarled.

She nodded.

He let her go, and swilled another mouthful of whisky from the bottle he was holding. She watched him, mesmerised. Suddenly she heard herself speaking, and her voice seemed to echo through her ears. “Why, Matthew?” she was saying. “Why?”

He slammed the bottle on the table beside her, making her jump, and stuck his face into hers.

“Why?” he said, showering her face with saliva. “Why? I’ll tell you why. Because I was fucking stupid enough to fall in love with you, that’s why! And all you’ve ever done is shove it right back in my face. You! The whore! The slut! I loved you and you’re no fucking good, Jenneen. And now you’re going to pay for all the misery. And if you don’t deliver, you whore, then you’re dead! Do you hear me? You’re fucking dead!”

She stared into his face. He was sick in the head, and not once did she doubt his threat of death. From the look in his eyes now she knew he was capable of anything.

He let her go, and walked to the door, taking the nearly empty bottle with him. “I’ll be back,” he said, “and soon. You know what I want, and you know what I’m prepared to do if I don’t get it. Think on it.” He turned and went out of the room.

She waited until she heard him leave, then tried to pull herself to her feet. But the pain was excruciating, and she fell to her knees, groaning.

As she pulled her car to a stop outside, Vicky looked up and saw Matthew staggering out of the building. From the look on his face she could tell that yet another unsavoury scene had taken place upstairs. She waited for him to weave his way off down the street, then hurried inside.

She found the door open so she let herself in and called out. There was no reply, so she closed the door behind her, and went in search of Jenneen. At first she could hardly take in the wreckage of the room, and then she saw Jenneen lying on the floor, her frail body wracked with sobs, blood all over her face. Vicky dropped her bag and ran over to her.