Dirty Minds (13 page)

There was a smile on Maggie’s face. Suzy recognised it all too well. It was not a smile of present satisfaction, rather one of satisfaction to come. Satisfaction for Maggie.

‘Suzy, how would you like a dirty weekend away?’

She was still taking off her raincoat. It hadn’t stopped raining in Bristol for almost a month. She stopped in surprise.

‘A dirty weekend? How dirty?’ There was just a hint of hesitation in her voice.

‘As dirty as we want to make it.’

‘Tell me more.’ She hung the damp coat over the back of a chair and took a seat on the sofa beside her. On the mantelpiece in front of them there was still the photo of Maggie and Harry on their wedding day. It felt strange to be there, in that room, but just the two of them now. This was only the second time she had been summoned to see her since the accident. She had debated whether to come back after what had happened last time, but a sense of duty constrained her.

‘That advert I was telling you about.’ Maggie reached out a hand and laid it on Suzy’s thigh. The girl flinched involuntarily. ‘You remember we talked about it last week?’

‘Of course I remember.’ The hand began to slide upwards. In spite of herself, she felt a tingle of anticipation. ‘Have you heard back from him?’

‘Yes. I have been shortlisted to co-author that book; the erotic book. And we are invited, with the other authors, to a 1920s-themed weekend in Dorset. It’s next weekend.’

‘Other authors?’

‘Six writers. He can’t decide who to go with, so he’s proposing a collaboration. We all write a part of it.’

‘Did you write something for him after I last saw you?’ She shifted uncomfortably on the seat.

‘Yes, my demo piece was set in India at the time of the Raj. There’s a quite splendid Memsahib in it. I like her. She has absolutely no redeeming features at all.’ Her fingers reached the top of Suzy’s leg.

Suzy looked across at her. The accident was many months ago now, but she was still sitting rather gingerly, with an unnaturally straight back. But she was on the sofa and that was progress. It could have been far, far worse. Poor Harry hadn’t been so lucky. She gave a small sigh, followed by a squeal, as Maggie pinched her.

‘I’d like to come, Maggie, but you’ll have to be a bit gentler with me. I could hardly sit down all last week. My bottom is still bruised now.

‘Show me.’ There was little sympathy in Maggie’s voice.

‘What here, now? With the curtains open?’

‘Now, I said. Come here and show me these bruises.’

Hesitantly, Suzy slid closer along the sofa to Maggie.

‘Bend over my lap.’ As Suzy hesitated, she repeated the command. ‘I said bend over. Good. Now pull your pants down. Slowly, Suzy, slowly. You don’t want to make me angry do you?’

The girl did as she was bidden. She felt hands on her buttocks, between her legs. A sharp fingernail scratched across the line of bruises. She winced.

‘Please don’t hurt me again, Magg … Mistress. I promise I’ll be good.’

‘That’s a promise, is it?’ The nail scratched back in the other direction. ‘I thought you liked it when I punished you for being bad. Harry used to do that to you. I never heard you complain.’

‘Harry had a gentler touch. He made me do naughty things, and then he punished me for being bad. But he never bruised me like that.’ She glanced up. ‘If you promise not to hurt me too much, I’ll come.’

The fingers became more intrusive. In spite of herself, the girl began to be aroused. She heard Maggie’s voice.

‘You’ll come all right.’

Tom didn’t see Ros on Thursday. She was whisked off in the Ferrari around mid-morning. She didn’t come back until Friday afternoon. He couldn’t miss her return. It was by helicopter. All thirty inhabitants of the village gawped as the shiny blue and white machine landed in the field by the river. She climbed down the steps and walked, head down, to the safety of the hedge. The pilot gave her a lazy wave of the hand and gunned the engine. Two minutes later, all was peaceful once more.

She rang him a few minutes later.

‘Hi, Tom, sorry about the noise. It was Fonsie’s idea. I couldn’t talk him out of it. I hope it didn’t frighten the sheep too much.’

‘Well you’ve given Mrs Whatsername at the farm something to talk about for the next month.’

‘Mrs Whatsername has already got enough to keep her going for the next decade or two. So, how’ve you been?’

‘I’m fine. But what about you? Where have you been?’

‘Monte Carlo. There was a party there last night. Fonsie asked me to go with him. Sorry, I meant to call you to say I was going away.’ She sounded concerned.

‘Nonsense. I saw the lights were all off, so I knew you weren’t home.’

He could have kicked himself. Now she would know that he had been down looking for her. She made no comment, so he rushed on. ‘Wow, Monte Carlo for a party! Not bad at all. Does that happen often?’

‘Not nowadays. It used to be a bit like that. It was fun, but I’m out of that life now. Say, what are you doing this evening?’

‘Well, I was thinking of jetting across to Sardinia to play bridge with the Aga Khan, but I suppose I can cancel that. What did you have in mind?’

‘I’ve got the remains of Wednesday’s lamb in the fridge. It really should be eaten. I can’t give it all to Sophie. She’d be sick.’

‘So you thought you’d give it to me instead. I’m touched.’ She could hear the smile in his voice. ‘Sounds far more interesting than bridge. What time do you want me?’

‘I’ll need a bit of time to scrub up and change out of my travelling clothes. Why don’t we say six thirty or seven? That’ll give me time to go and pick up Sophie from her holiday home.’

‘You could have left her with me. Noah and I would have looked after her.’

‘I’ll remember that another time. By the way, bring Noah tonight. There’ll be enough for him, too.’

‘You’d need another sheep to satisfy his appetite.’

‘There’s tons, really. And I’m waiting to hear the latest developments on the book front. See you later.’

He timed his arrival for 6.45. She had said six thirty to seven, so splitting the difference seemed the best solution. Noah was already at her door, sending olfactory messages to Sophie, by the time he came up the path. There was no need to ring the bell. The door opened.

‘Hi, Tom.’ He stepped inside while she closed the door behind him.

‘Ros, it’s wonderful to see you.’ He paused, uncertain whether to try to kiss her.

She lowered her eyes and they stood like that for as few seconds, before she rallied herself.

‘Come into the warm. It’s going to be another cold one.’

He followed her into the kitchen, relieved to see the spaniel engaged in a bottom-sniffing competition with Noah. He was able to remove his hands from their defensive position. He sat down at the table, delighted to be with her again. She came and stood opposite him. He looked up into her eyes.

‘I missed you, Ros. I’ve only just got to know you, and a day apart had me as miserable as hell.’

She smiled down at him. ‘But now I’m back. You’ve made a conquest in Fonsie. He spent all last night telling me what an absolutely wonderful chap you are. That is, during the pauses between him telling me how I should consider spending the rest of my life with him.’

‘He’s kind of hard to resist, I would think.’

You would be referring to the elegance, the wealth and the bonhomie, I presume?’

‘Something like that, plus a bit of Latin charm and a generosity that almost had me throwing myself into his arms.’

‘Somehow I don’t see you throwing yourself into anybody’s arms, Tom, female or male. At least not in a hurry. You’re not the impulsive type. But then, neither am I.’ There was an awkward pause. Then she straightened up and turned towards the fridge. She set about emptying the contents onto the table. His eyes widened.

‘I thought you said there was just a bit of cold meat. It looks like a delicatessen in there.’

She was still digging. ‘I wasn’t sure what Fonsie would want to eat. Sometimes he goes on weird diets of egg whites and celery for weeks on end. Plus he brought a load of food with him. Do you like Beluga? I had enough last night to last me till next Christmas.’

‘I like the orange stuff. What’s that? Salmon eggs, maybe. I’ve never had the real McCoy, but I’m not terribly hungry tonight. You keep it for a special occasion.’

‘What makes you think having you for dinner isn’t a special occasion?’

‘It certainly is for me. But, honestly, keep the sturgeon eggs for another time. Tell me, is Fonsie still on for next weekend? I could still cancel the arrangements, you know?’

‘Dead keen. He’ll be there. He is going to play the gracious host. I heard him giving orders to his people on the way back in the plane. It’s all fixed.’ She finished plundering the fridge and reached for the breadboard. She looked at him over her shoulder. ‘So, what’s the news on the book?’

‘I’ve started getting replies. I printed out this one.’ He reached into his pocket. ‘You will enjoy this. Here.’ She took the e-mail from him.

Dear Mr Marshall

I am afraid this is the moment to come clean. There is no Ariadne Anstruther. There is not even a female writer. There is only a South London accountant with an interest in writing. As an accountant, I can well see the logic of what you are attempting to do. I would dearly like to be part of it.

While my sex is against me, all I could bring to the party is the point of view of a twenty-seven-year-old man, and a lot of enthusiasm, both for writing and for the subject in hand. In the event that you might feel this could add to your range, I would be delighted to come to the weekend meeting in Dorset. I would be unaccompanied.

Whatever your response, I would beg you to accept my apologies. What started as a harmless prank has developed into a real interest on my part. If you decide that another male writer is not needed, I wish you and your fellow writers the very best of luck in this exciting project.

Kind regards

James Smith

‘Well, he’s honest.’ She sounded impressed. ‘I mean, if it was a freebie weekend he was looking for, he could have booked in as Mr and Mrs Anstruther, and then she could have gone sick at the last minute.’ She looked across at Tom, as she pulled plates and glasses from the dresser. ‘What do you think? Do you want him?’

‘I’ve been wondering. I must admit that, like you, I admire his honesty. We have to remember however, that he is the adverb king. He also doesn’t know much about history, and he couldn’t be bothered to check. Cavemen first appeared millions of years after his piece was set.’

He jumped to his feet.

‘I’ve just remembered, I’ve got a bottle of wine in my jacket pocket. I got distracted for some reason when I came in and forgot it. I’ll get it.’

‘Open it for yourself by all means. I’m on the wagon for a few days. I had far too much champagne last night. I must look awful.’

He chose not to respond to that comment. She looked terrific. ‘In which case, I’ll leave the bottle here for another time. Let’s take the healthy option.’

‘So, what about young James?’

‘You know, even though he can’t write for toffee, it might be a good thing to have the perspective of a younger male. I am a bit of an old fuddy-duddy, after all.’

‘Positively ancient.’ She set a jug of water on the table, then sat down opposite him. ‘I think he sounds nice.’

She loaded his plate with food. The two dogs were sitting side by side, eyes glued on the lamb. Tom noticed to his horror that Noah was drooling. Ros’s eyes followed his.

‘I think it might be a good idea if I sorted the dogs out with some meat. Noah might drown in his own dribble otherwise.’ She got up and divided the remaining meat into two bowls. The dogs’ eyes lit up.

‘By the way, I’m afraid I’m going to have to be in London most of next week.’ She saw his face fall. ‘I know, I wish I could be here. But it’s work, and it’s a few thousand pounds worth of work.’

His eyes opened wide. ‘Wow, that’s probably more than we’ll ever make out of this book. What are you doing? Selling your organs?’

‘No, not yet. That’s plan B. I got an e-mail from my editor. They want me to do a three-page article on this spring’s fashions. I got an amazing amount of unsolicited information from some of the people at last night’s party, so I think I should be able to cobble something together.’ She shot him a glance, laced with regret. ‘But it does mean I won’t see you for a few days.’

‘Business is business. We’ll be together next weekend anyway.’ The realisation that they were to find themselves together in a hotel for the weekend re-ignited his doubts and fears. Their relationship was moving onwards at a fast pace. Or at least, fast by his standards. She was so right about his not being the impulsive type. But two days and two nights together? He hoped his drained emotions would be able to handle it. Unbidden, Diane’s face flashed before his eyes. He dropped his head in confusion.

‘Don’t be disappointed.’ She could tell he was troubled. ‘We’ll make up for it at the weekend.’

He swallowed his mouthful and looked up. ‘Ros, I’ve been thinking. For next weekend, do you think it would be a good idea if we didn’t appear to be too close?’ She raised an eyebrow. He hastened to provide an explanation. ‘I’m thinking from the point of view of the other writers. I wouldn’t want them to think we had got it all sewn up.’

She knew him so well already. ‘Tom, I think that’s a very good idea. By the way,’ she tried to sound as if it wasn’t very important, ‘Fonsie’s got us two really nice rooms overlooking the park.’ She hoped she hadn’t put too much stress on the word ‘two’.

‘How very kind of him.’ He sounded relieved.

She had a fair idea as to what was going through his head, but she said nothing. She had long ago realised that he was going to need time to get his head straight. She gave him a bright smile as she explained.

‘Apparently all the rooms are on the first floor. So that is where all the action will take place.’ Seeing the expression on his face, she added, ‘For the book.’

‘Um, yes. That’s excellent.’ He returned his attention to his food.

‘So, any other replies from the writers?’

‘Yes, the Tiffany girl, you know,
Two’s Company
, is coming with her husband. His name is Luca Rossi. You never know, I might have to roll my Italian out again.’

‘There’s something so very sexy about Italian. One of these days you’ll have to try some of it on me.’

‘
Ma certo, Signorina
.’ She was pleased to see that he had regained his composure. ‘Oh yes, and the Indian Torturer is coming with a girlfriend.’

‘Are you wondering what I’m wondering?’

‘Interesting, isn’t it? Not least as she has indicated they want a double bed. Well, it should give us the opportunity to check that she is a woman. But I must confess I am bracing myself for a Rosa Klebb look-alike.’

‘Maybe they’ll turn out to be a pair of octogenarian spinsters who just happen to have a good imagination.’ She looked down at the dogs. Sophie had abandoned her bowl with only half the food eaten. Noah was halfway round the room with his nose in his. It had been licked clean.

‘Mmm, I’m not sure “good” is the right adjective to describe her offering. I found it quite distasteful. But there’s no doubting the fact that she can write. We’ll see. Anyway, we’ve got another all woman partnership. Can you guess which?’

Ros went through the writers in her head. ‘That only leaves the war story. and the Marquise. My money’s on the Marquise bringing her girlfriend.’

‘Well, I’m glad you weren’t in Monte Carlo for the casino. You would have lost your shirt. Yes, it’s Janet Whateverhernameis. She is coming with a friend called Melissa. But they have opted for twin beds. Of course that may just be a ruse, and they’ll be at it like rabbits all the time.’

‘Thomas Marshall, how dare you impugn the honour of the good lady! She probably just needs a bit of moral support. So the Marquise has got a man, eh?’

‘Yes, and she mentioned twice that she particularly wanted a double bed. I think we can safely assume they are a couple.’All this talk of couples was not doing Ros any good at all. She took a good hard look at Tom. Underneath the strong exterior, he was still very mixed up. He must have loved his wife a lot. Sooner or later they would have to get things sorted out between them, but she was wise enough to realise that it would have to come from him. That didn’t mean she couldn’t help him make up his mind, though. She stood up and bent down to relieve Noah of his bowl, before he ground a furrow in the wooden floor.

Tom watched her perfect bottom with awe. He resisted the urge to cup her buttocks with his hands, but it was a struggle. She turned towards him. He knew at once she could read the conflict of emotions in his face. She gave him an innocent smile and returned to her seat. He collected himself.

‘Actually, I’m going to be pretty busy myself, getting things ready for the weekend. Ah yes, I wanted to ask your advice. Do you think it would be a good idea to let everybody read everybody else’s demo pieces?’

She cut herself a small piece of goat cheese and balanced it on a stick of celery, taken from a huge pile. ‘Yes, I think it would. I certainly learnt stuff from reading the other stories.’

‘Right, then I’ll copy them all. What do you think about this as a plan for the weekend? Friday night, just socialising and dinner, Saturday morning deciding on characters, and Saturday afternoon getting the plot sorted out. Saturday night dinner in costume’

‘Gala dinner in costume.’ She felt she had to interrupt him. ‘Fonsie has got great plans, apparently. It’ll be champagne all the way.’