The Room on the Second Floor (26 page)

Gritting his teeth, Duggie pushed the door open and set off down the corridor.

Chapter 43

When he got home that night, Tina could immediately see that he had had a bad day at the office and did her best to put on a cheerful front.

‘Hi, babe. Good day at work?’ All she got in reply was a grunt, so she headed for the drinks cabinet. She poured a stiff Scotch and pressed it into his unresisting hand.

‘Not so good, eh?’ Perching on the arm of the armchair beside him, she set about cheering him up. Her approach tonight was psychological, rather than physical. ‘Linda tells me the club looks great, all ready for the grand opening tomorrow. Is that what’s worrying you, darling?’

He took a sip on the whisky. Then he set it down beside him and started to tell her what, or rather who, was the source of his concern.

‘It’s that damn woman. In the short time she has been working there, she has managed to get up the nose of every single person who works in the Salon. Even Rocky was in tears today, because she was unkind to him.’

‘Oh bless. The poor lamb.’ Tina, like the other girls, had a soft spot for the gentle giant.

‘Do you know what she has done now? She has produced a questionnaire for clients to fill out as they finish their sessions. There are boxes to tick and multiple choice questions. She’s asking stuff like,
Has this been a meaningful sensory experience?
. Then there’s
Did you or your hostess use any external aids? Please supply details
. Hostess, for Christ’s sake? What is this, a bloody airline?’

As he said it, he remembered something Mo had told him a few weeks back. One of their clients had a penchant for what he called ‘mile-high sex’. This involved squeezing into a cupboard with Ingrid. Seeing as she was almost six feet tall, and he little over five, the logistics had been eye-watering. Not for the first time, Duggie shook his head wearily at the eccentricities of his fellow man.

Tina could see how upset he was. She considered sliding across onto his lap, but decided this was not the moment. She thought it better to let him get it out of his system.

‘So now I’ve got that bloody woman lurking around outside the rooms with a clipboard, annoying everybody. The girls are up in arms. A number of clients have told Mo they are seriously considering whether they will ever return, if this kind of thing continues.’ He was furious. ‘And now it seems she is using the girls’ clothes and…’ he hesitated, ‘things.’

Tina was appalled. Not that the manager would want to use the accoutrements of a brothel. That was her own business. No, it was the fact that her Duggie, the man who had swept her off her feet by asking her if she wanted a shag, was so depressed that he could not even bring himself to talk to her about naughty, sexy things any more. It was worse than she had thought.

‘Well, what are you waiting for, Duggie? Just close the place down. When it’s closed she can say what she likes about it. It won’t make any difference.’

‘That’s what I’d dearly like to do, just to get her off my back. I don’t need her any more now.’ He was talking through gritted teeth. ‘But she’s got me over a barrel and she knows it. Today I had to speak to her about her using some of the girls’ clothes. She more or less told me that she would wear what she bloody well chose to wear.’ He was fuming. ‘The problem is Roger. I just know that she’ll scream blue murder once she knows she’s out of a job. And her first act of spite will be to head straight for Roger and drop me in it, up to my neck.’

‘Well, the answer’s easy, Duggie. Go and tell him. Tell him now. You two go way back. Tell him what you did and tell him the Salon’s closing down. He’ll forgive you, I know he will.’ She reached out and took his hand. ‘I would. And, anyway, it’s not as if you’ve been doing anything illegal. Or lining your own pockets.’

‘It’s not a question of money, sweetheart. The accounts are all white as driven snow. It’s a question of trust. You were right all along. It was just plain stupid of me. But would I listen? Nope, a little voice in my head kept egging me on, just like it’s always done. I’ve brought it upon myself.’

Tina and he had been to a University Players version of
Othello
a few weeks back. She now had a sudden vision of Duggie in the role. It wasn’t pretty. She slipped an arm around his shoulders and gave him a hug.

‘Duggie, if it’s just Roger you’re worried about, then go and talk to him. He knows you inside and out. I wouldn’t mind betting he knows all about that wicked little voice in your head. She squeezed him tightly. ‘You can’t be blackmailed by that awful manager of yours. Go and see Roger, get it out in the open. Then kick her out on her big fat backside.’

Duggie looked up at her.

‘I’ve been trying to find the right time to talk to him for a few days now. You’re right, Tina. I know you’re right.’

‘Well, just do it. You’ll see. Things won’t be as bad as you think.’

He looked across at her warmly. With her support, he knew what he had to do. And her support counted for a lot. She was so very much more than just a lovely body. He pulled her head towards him and kissed her with feeling.

‘Tina, darling, you really know the way to a man’s heart.’ She smiled back, relieved and delighted to see him looking more cheerful.

‘You see, it’s not necessarily only through his trousers.’ She reached for him. ‘Although that method is by far the most direct.’

Chapter 44

The next day, however, Duggie found himself too busy to find the time to have his talk with Roger. He justified it to himself as it being because of the grand opening but, deep inside, he knew he was struggling to find the courage to confess.

Opening day for the country club turned out to be a great success. Duggie’s campaign of posters and leaflets delivered door to door and, in particular, an interview on prime-time local television, recorded a few days previously, brought the punters in from all around the county. The fact that the lady interviewer had then spent an enjoyable afternoon with Sindy and Mindy, and had had to be helped back to her car afterwards, was not reported.

The car park was full by eleven o’clock. The free buffet lunch was already being plundered by a quarter to twelve. The chefs and the serving staff were in a blind panic, but Duggie was riotously happy. He did not care how many came, as long as lots of people came. And come they certainly did.

Free access to the squash and tennis courts brought them in by the dozen. More than anything, however, the free use of the golf course was an out and out winner. The first tee saw a non-stop procession of would-be golfers, driving off with varying degrees of success. The queue continued throughout the whole day. By evening, almost three hundred people had played the course. The bar in the ballroom was packed out with hopefuls. There was great excitement as the results of the Nearest to the Pin competition were announced. By the end of the evening, it was calculated that less than a third of a barrel of beer remained on the premises. As Duggie checked the bar take, he whistled with pleasure. It had actually turned over even more than the Salon!

The only cloud on the horizon was his forthcoming conversation, more of a confession, with Roger. That and the even larger black cloud, named Rachel Turner.

Roger, now getting a bit better on his crutches, had participated in much of the day. By teatime, however, he had taken refuge in his study. He was still there when Linda came looking for him around eight-thirty. Unable to sit on his lap, for fear of disturbing his poor hurt ankle, she squatted on the floor at his feet, with her chin on his thigh. She told him how it had all gone.

‘Duggie was magnificent.’ She was delighted their friend had been so successful. ‘He had the whole audience rolling in the aisles while he was announcing the winners of the raffle. The winner of the ladies’ squash tournament almost ate him when she kissed him. The tills were rattling all day. The girls in Reception said they took almost a hundred membership applications in the course of the day. I think it is fair to say that Toplingham Country Club is here to stay.’ She beamed up at him and added, ‘As are we.’

He looked down at her and ran his hand over her hair. She was, without doubt, the most wonderful woman in the world, and he was totally unworthy of her love. Sensing his emotion, she reached up and kissed him. As her arms clasped round his neck, she heard a creak from the direction of the door. She spun round in sudden alarm. The thought of an assassin lurking in the background was an ever-present fear these days. This time there was nothing to worry about. Nothing, unless you were afraid of a seven stone dog hurtling towards you. Jasper, excited to catch her down at floor level for a change, wiped her out. They rolled cheerfully on the floor for some moments before he regained his composure, and she managed to pick herself up. Roger loved the two of them.

Seconds later, a discreet cough from the direction of the door announced the arrival of Henri with a little snack. Aware that Roger had not eaten since lunch, he had taken the liberty of preparing a little something for him and, perhaps, something for mademoiselle as well. A tray with two steaming bowls of soup and some appetizing-looking avocado and chicken sandwiches were placed onto the desk. Seconds later, he was gone.

‘I’ll never be able to live up to Henri, you know.’ She was back at his side.

‘Don’t worry. He’s useless in bed.’

She set the dog on him and laughed as he fought to keep his faithful hound from climbing onto his lap. Finally defeated, the dog headed for the sandwiches and sat down hopefully by the tray. Linda set about showing Roger how much better than Henri she could be, at least in some areas. Now it was her turn to be wrestled off.

‘Down, girl! Stay! Sit! Remember you are dealing with an invalid here. The doctor told me to avoid too much excitement for a few days. Go and release your pent-up lust on Stan or Paddy.’ She laughed and added quietly.

‘Or upstairs on the second floor.’ He didn’t get it and, after a few moments puzzling, had to ask,

‘Why the second floor?’ He thought back to the previous week. ‘The vice-chancellor was wittering on about the second floor as well. Come to think of it, so was Mr Starkey. Did they mean our second floor? What goes on up there?’

She rather regretted voicing her continued suspicions. After all, his doctor had advised against any excitement for a while. So she chose not to go into it all at this stage. She just settled for, ‘You’d better ask Duggie.’ And then, before he could probe further, she passed over his bowl of soup. Assuring herself that he’d started eating, she changed the subject in the time-honoured way. ‘How are things going with St Bernard?’ As ever, it worked wonders.

‘I think I have done more fruitful research during these last few weeks, since we returned from Japan, than I did in the last two or three years at university. For years I have been living and breathing the Templars. But it is only here that I have really had time to think in peace and quiet.’ He was on the point of outlining his recent breakthrough when the strangest thing happened. As he was about to say more, a hot flush swept across him. He felt his lips swelling up. At the same time, a powerful stomach cramp hit him. As he curled forward in pain, he saw the look of horror on her face.

‘Roger, darling! What’s happening?’ His face was covered in red blotches. ‘You look positively ill…oh…’ Her voice tailed off as his body went into spasm and he was sick. In spite of desperately holding his hands to his mouth, it went all over the place. He looked like death. She jumped up and ran to the door. Throwing it open, she screamed at the top of her voice.

‘Help. Help, somebody!’

Afterwards she admitted feeling rather ashamed of her reaction, but at the time, particularly in view of the attempts on his life, she did not know what else to do. Luckily, within seconds, help arrived in the shape of Duggie. He took in the scene in an instant, and knew immediately what had happened. More importantly, he knew what to do.

‘Prawns. He’s been eating prawns.’ Turning to Henri, who was only a few paces behind him, he barked out orders. ‘Water. Bottles of it and a bucket.’ Roger was violently sick again. ‘Make that a couple of buckets and a mop.’ Henri made to say something, but the urgency of the situation had him running off down the stairs without delay.

Linda caught Duggie’s hand and asked, ‘How did you know?’ He gave her an encouraging squeeze.

‘Saw it for the first time just before he went off to university. We were in a Chinese, having sweet and sour. He was having chicken and I was having prawns and they got mixed up. Within minutes, he had the same reaction. Worried the life out of us. I had to dial 999. When they came, they told us to keep him drinking and throwing up. And did he throw up!’

He kept hold of her hand and tried to look encouraging. ‘This could be the first real test of your relationship. How do you feel about buckets of sick?’

She knew how she felt about buckets of sick, but she also knew, with utter certainty, how she felt about Roger. Gruesome or not, she knew she would cope. As Henri returned with the water, Duggie tried to cheer up the atmosphere, by adding wistfully.

‘Shame really. It was the best Chinese in town, but we never dared go there again…’

As Linda cradled Roger’s head and helped him to drink deeply from the mineral water bottle, Henri took Duggie aside.

‘That was vegetable soup. No prawns. He told me weeks ago that he is allergic to them. Here, try it.’ He dipped a spoon into Linda’s untouched soup bowl and sniffed it. His intention was to pass it on to Duggie. But he did not pass it on. He sniffed again and then, gingerly, tasted with the tip of his tongue. His face curled up in disgust. ‘Prawns. Somebody has put prawns in the soup.’ He looked as puzzled as he sounded. Behind them, Roger threw up again, this time into a bucket. Linda clung tightly to him, appalled to see him so ill.

Duggie let Henri’s information sink in. He was turning the prawn thing over in his mind when he remembered something. Just before hearing Linda’s cry for help, he had been chatting with a very sweaty Chief Inspector Cocker. The police officer had just come out of the fitness centre, and was on his way to the showers. Hopefully he would still be there. He slipped out and ran back down the stairs. Luckily he arrived just in time. The inspector, now fully clothed, was just emerging from the Gents’ changing rooms. Spotting the expression on Duggie’s face, he looked up sharply. ‘Nothing’s happened, I hope?’