Between You and Me (22 page)

‘He has a proposition for you. I’ve been trying to get hold of you for some time now, in order to let you know. You’re a hard man to reach when you want to be.’

‘I have no money. I have no money to feed my family, let alone pay for my mobile phone. I ran out of credit and couldn’t top up, and I didn’t even have a spare fiver to pay for an Internet café so I could email you.’ It sounds strange to hear the word ‘fiver’ uttered in his deep Eastern European accent.

‘Well, Mr Popescu, your troubles may be over for a time. Mr Pavlenco has a very generous offer for you.’

‘Please, I cannot discuss it here; my manager will hear and I will lose my job. He knows I am illegal, but I have to be so careful.’ His fingers worry at his sleeves and he refuses to meet my eyes. Realising he is ashamed of his situation, I agree to return at the end of his shift.

After an afternoon in the office, in which I try and tie up any other loose ends with this godforsaken buy-out, Popescu is never far from my mind. I can only hope that the fifty grand will do the trick and get rid of him, at least until the deal is complete, and I am made partner and have nothing more to do with Lucian Pavlenco. In fact, if it weren’t for the chance to be made partner, I’d be wishing I’d never been the one to deal with Pavlenco in the first place. The pressure of this case is mounting and I am struggling to sleep at night, worry that everything will blow up in my face keeping me awake. It doesn’t help that Sal is completely oblivious to any strain I am under, wafting around day to day as usual, with no regard for what I might be going through.

I meet Radu that evening, in the same pub as we visited before. He is sitting, small and hunched, in the same booth tucked away at the back of the room and I get the impression he doesn’t want to be seen with me any more than I want to be seen with him.

‘Radu. Can I get you a drink?’ He nods, pushing away the glass in front of him.

‘Yes, please. The barman was not pleased with my order of tap water.’ He gives a rueful smile and I fetch him a pint. Tucking myself into the booth alongside him, I jump straight in feet first.

‘So, Radu. I met with Lucian. While he doesn’t necessarily support your claims, he is happy to make you an offer. A one-time-only offer. By accepting it, you will also accept that you have no further claim on the name Lucian Pavlenco. Nor will you persist in contacting Mr Pavlenco. That will be it, Radu. No contact with Lucian ever again. Trust me, I think it’s the best thing for both of you, especially for you. You know yourself he is a very powerful man, one who always gets what he wants.’ I watch him closely and see the slight flinch he gives when I tell him it means there will be no more contact. Ever.

‘I thought it would come to this. He is changed, Charlie. He is not the boy I grew up with. He has become hard, poisoned against all those who loved him once and love him still. Do you know, he hasn’t been home to see his family even once?’ Radu takes a sip of his drink and gazes ahead, lost in the memories of some other time. ‘His mother got sick, you know. A long time ago, when he was barely a teenager. His father was long gone, and he had no one. We sheltered him from it, made sure that he never knew how ill she really was. We took him in, my family and I, even though he was in a bad way, struggling to cope with the responsibilities of caring for his family. My mother took care of him as if he were her own. She loved him as if he were her own son.’

‘People change, Radu. Things happen; people have different experiences that change the way they look at the world. Sometimes you just have to accept that there’s nothing you can do. Sometimes friendships just naturally come to an end.’

Radu bangs his fist on the table, fury raging in his eyes. ‘A natural end? This man stole
my life
. There is nothing
natural
about that,’ he hisses at me, cheeks suffused with anger. ‘I gave him
everything
, Charlie, everything. I shared all I had with him and this is how he repays me.’ Shaking, he takes a deep breath.

‘Radu, calm down. I have an offer from Lucian for you – a very generous offer, one that could potentially make everything OK for you.’ Now that Radu is calmer, I think it’s best to just get the offer on the table, and get out of there.

‘Go on, I’m listening’ is all he says.

I outline the offer from Lucian – a fifty-thousand-pound cheque, right now, for him to cash immediately. In return for the cheque, he will disappear, out of Lucian’s life for ever. The original documents that he sent over to me will be destroyed, and he will have no further contact, either with Pavlenco, or with me. I reiterate the importance of the fact that he is to stay away from Lucian’s office, family, and friends. No further contact, ever. At these words Radu looks a little shell-shocked and I realise that, despite his bravado and all his gesturing, he never really believed Lucian would cut him off completely.

‘Give me a minute, please,’ he says, and I walk over to the bar to order another pint. A text buzzes on my phone – it’s Lucian, and simply says ‘WELL?’ I tap out a quick reply. ‘In meeting now. Will update as soon as I can.’ As I carry the fresh drinks over to the table, Radu looks up at me.

‘I have no choice,’ he says, pulling a pint towards him. ‘This money will save my family. My mother is still in Romania, and she is dying, Charlie. She has cancer and until now I have not been able to afford the treatment, but with this money I might be able to save her.’ Tears threaten to spill down over his shirt. ‘I earn £3.90 an hour, Charlie. When you’re illegal there is no minimum wage. There are no rights; you have to take what you can get and be grateful for it. If I had known this was how it was going to be, I never would have said yes. If I had known that trying to help my oldest friend would mean I lost everything, I would never have done it. I still cannot believe that he has done this to me.’ The tears do fall now, and I glance about anxiously, worried that other patrons in the bar will see. That’s the last thing I need – for someone to spot me with Radu and remember us at a later date.

‘Radu, please. Pull yourself together. I’m sorry this has all gone so wrong for you, really I am, but you must see that Lucian is giving you a lifeline. You said yourself your mother is dying – this can help her, maybe save her life.’ I cringe inwardly a little at this. I know I am ruthless but referencing his dying mother is a little harsh, even for me. Even so, I need him to take the cheque and sign the contract I’ve drawn up, stating all the clauses he has agreed to. I need this to be over. I need to get a decent night’s sleep and finally get my life back. Radu wipes his eyes, and takes a shaky breath.

‘Yes. I understand this. I have no choice, although signing this will break my heart. You can tell Lucian I bear him no ill will. Everything that he deserves, he will get.’ Pulling the contract towards him, he takes the pen I hold out to him and signs his name with a flourish. I can’t help but feel a tiny sense of foreboding at his last words.
Everything he deserves, he will get.

When Radu leaves the pub, taking his fifty-grand cheque with him, I send Lucian a text. Three words only: ‘It is done.’ His response is immediate, and I instantly feel better. Radu is just a small blip on the way to greatness, and now the threat of him has been eradicated I can focus on getting this deal done and dusted, with no time for any sentimentality. Pavlenco didn’t get where he is today by being sentimental, did he? Feeling a little high on my success, I text Alex, rearranging our dinner date for the following week. Hopefully Alex will accidentally drop some nuggets of information over the course of our meal, things that I will be able to use with Otex to make sure we acquire the new company, not Vygen. Wiping the memory of the look on Radu’s face when I told him the contract meant no contact ever again with Lucian from my mind, I stuff the contract in my laptop bag and head for home.

Chapter Thirty-One

SAL

Whatever has been playing on your mind for the past week seems to have cleared, as you come home late on Friday night in a much better mood than you have been. For the most part, this week with you has been unbearable. You haven’t been physical – I’ve made sure I’ve kept out of your way enough that even you couldn’t justify it – but every time I speak to you, you snap, telling me I have no idea what you go through every day, the stress you are under, the things you have to do to get where you want to be, to give me what I allegedly demand from you. When I ask you about it, you tell me I’m too stupid to understand and turn your back on me, choosing instead to freeze me out. You would think I wouldn’t mind that, you freezing me out and ignoring me; it has to be preferable to your screaming in my face and hitting me. But it hurts just as much. It makes me feel just as ashamed and weak, just as inconsequential. Lying in bed on Friday evening I try again but, as usual, you don’t seem to want to talk about it when I ask, turning the conversation instead to the weekend.

‘We should do something, all of us together. I know I’ve been preoccupied at work lately but everything seems to be coming together more now. Let’s go somewhere, take Mags out for the day. It’s been a long time since we spent time together as a family.’ You twine your fingers through mine, squeezing my hand tight. I feel almost content, lying next to you hand in hand – it reminds me of when we first got together and would spend hours in bed talking, holding hands and drinking wine. It reminds me of an altogether calmer time, one that I have missed, and it has been a long time since we did anything as a family. It seems that, lately, either you are working, or something has happened between us that means you don’t want to spend time with me, or I don’t feel up to going out after you’ve lost your temper with me. Jumping on the chance to have an enjoyable weekend with Maggie, I suggest all of us spending the day at Legoland. Maggie has been dying to go, the weather is still good and it seems the ideal family day out.

‘Sounds perfect,’ you say, kissing my cheek before settling down for sleep.

The next morning dawns bright and early with Maggie almost doing cartwheels of excitement when she hears where we are off to. I am looking forward to it, too, and am just packing a backpack with snacks while you are in the shower when the telephone rings.

‘Sal?’ A gruff voice comes down the phone and it takes me a moment to place it.

‘Tony? Is Anna OK?’ Realising it is my brother-in-law on the end of the line makes my heart race – Tony never, ever calls here. You and he had a bit of a spat right back at the beginning when we first moved in together, and although Tony tried to make it up with you, apologising and letting bygones be bygones, you refused to accept his apology and haven’t spoken to him since.

‘She went into labour last night. He’s here, but oh, God, Sal, he’s so tiny. It’s too early.’ I hear a hitch in his voice and realise how hard he is trying to hold it together. ‘He’s in an incubator, Sal. They’re not too sure at the moment how things will turn out. Anna is … she wants you to come.’ Of all my sisters, Anna and I are the closest. There is only a year between us, and we were mistaken for twins on more than one occasion growing up.

‘I’ll be there. Tell her I’m coming and I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ I hang up, and gasp as I realise you have been standing behind me, for at least the end part of my conversation. Judging by the look on your face, you heard me.

‘What? Sal, where do you think you’re going?’ You’re wrapped in a towel, water dripping from the ends of your hair.

‘It’s Anna. She’s had the baby – it’s too early and he’s not very well.’ I look you straight in the eye; I am not backing down this time, despite my heart beating double-time. Old, brave Sal is still there, just below the surface, spurred on by the feelings of success following my interview.

‘So? That’s your problem how, exactly?’ You shift the towel slightly, not breaking eye contact with me. The air is charged with tension; there is no way I can get out of this now without a row.

‘She’s my sister, Charlie. He’s my nephew. If I don’t go now, I might not get to meet him at all.’ I gaze at you, willing you to understand the enormity of it all, to not use this as an excuse to go off the deep end.

‘It’s our day out with Maggie, Sal. It’s all arranged. Are you going to tell her she can’t go? Because I’m not.’

‘It doesn’t mean she can’t go. Why don’t you two go, spend some time together?’

‘It was supposed to be all of us, Sal. We are supposed to be spending the day together, as a
family
. It may have escaped your notice, but your family is Maggie and me – no one else. I work fucking hard to keep this family together, so the least you can do is be bothered to spend time with us. It’s not like you do much else, is it?’ you sneer at me, contempt radiating from every pore.

I have no idea where my bravery comes from – maybe the old Sal is closer to the surface than I realised – but I will not take this lying down any longer.

‘No, Charlie. That’s not the case. Anna is my family; she’s my sister and she needs me. You two can still go and have a good time together, but this might be the only opportunity I have to meet my nephew. I don’t think you understand, Charlie – he might not make it. Would you want to go through that on your own?’ I stare defiantly at you, and feel some small sense of achievement when you are the first to break eye contact. Old Sal does a little cheer inside, while outwardly my palms are slick with sweat.

‘Fine. You go, Sal. I’ll take Maggie to Legoland. I won’t let her down. I’m not guaranteeing that I’ll bring her back, though – maybe it’s time you learnt where your priorities should lie.’

You flounce your way back upstairs and, for the first time, I don’t feel so afraid of you. I can’t help but feel as though you are behaving in a slightly ridiculous manner. Calling Maggie downstairs, I explain to her that I won’t be coming because Aunty Anna had her baby and he is very poorly, but that you will still take her. It’s funny how a four-year-old seems to understand the situation better than an adult who is headed for forty.

I wave you off, standing at the end of the driveway blowing kisses to Maggie in the backseat, while you stare stonily ahead and pretend I’m not there. Grabbing my bag from the hallway, I set off for the bus stop – I had been hoping you would see sense and be reasonable about my going to the hospital, but you refused to discuss it any further, apart from to tell me, ‘If it’s so fucking urgent, go, but you can catch the fucking bus.’ So, I find myself sitting at the back of a surprisingly empty double decker, the engine rumbling in the background, belching out exhaust fumes. As I get off at the stop right outside the hospital, I see Tony pacing outside the hospital doors, cigarette clamped firmly between his teeth. As I approach I see he’s talking on his mobile – I am desperate to get inside and see Anna, but wait for him to finish his call. He smiles at me as he hangs up, dark smudges under his eyes. He looks exhausted.