Unbind (31 page)

He was patient and this proved a great virtue in his quest to get answers. In the blistering heat of August that year, the cubbyhole proved a cool hideaway and with his stock of treasure becoming numerate, he could always find employment.

The mystery began to unravel when, one day, he overheard a conversation his father was having on his new cell phone. It was a slab and made him look even more of a dick than he already was. Since when did his father communicate with the outside world anyway…?

“
Bueno?
” Philippe seemed irate as he answered. The caller said something and Cai’s father replied, “
Puto
!
Aah
!
No entiendo
. I haven’t been home in decades so how would I be distributing stuff again, huh?”

His father spoke a mixture of Mexican-Spanish and English, but Cai knew both languages well because he’d been subjected to each tongue ever since he was born. He couldn’t write Spanish as well as English because Claire didn’t teach him that, but he heard his father and just somehow understood the language.

After Philippe said his piece, Cai vaguely heard screaming on the other end of the line.

“Listen, you moron, I don’t care what you heard about me starting up the business again. I live in the United States now, not fucksville any longer. Go fuck yourself. I have a nice, little life here.”

He hung up and slammed his phone on the desk. He was furious, yelling obscenities in his mother tongue, something about regretting getting a cell phone, modern technology being a curse.

Caius wrote in his notebook:
Philippe is the one to watch
. He decided his father was the one with more secrets, not his severely ill mother. Maybe his father’s pathetic life was where the action was at.

A few weeks later and the heat of summer finally wilted. He could smell the dying leaves and it made Cai look forward to learning more as a new ‘school term’ approached. Claire explained what he’d be learning about that year: more French, some of the English classics, going back further in American history. Dirk was apparently going to handle the math and science side of things now his education was getting broader.

Cai often joined Dirk in the garage to watch him carry out work on the Lincoln. One day, he had something in mind to ask Dirk about while they laid underneath the vehicle together.

“You know a lotta stuff, Dirk?”

“Gotta know things to stay afloat in this world, son.”

“Hmm. Try telling my parents that.”

The old man told the boy, “You don’t need me to tell you that you ain’t gotta be like them, son.”

“No… helps to hear it, though.”

Cai watched while Dirk dealt with a small spill, wiping his greasy hands on a heavy-duty cotton apron, his butler outfit still underneath. Old habits died hard.

“Why d’ya think they never married?” Cai asked, having wondered about that more and more.

“Dunno for sure. Guess your grandmother’s marriage didn’t turn out too well, did it? That couldn’t have been easy for your mother and as it is, she stands to lose a great deal if she does marry Philippe.”

“They did once love one another though, yeah?”

The older man stared with genuine concern into Cai’s eyes, aware the young man wasn’t blind to the truth of the matter—Cai just wanted to see how Dirk reacted.

“That’s not for me to say, son. I guess they did once… if you must know, they weren’t always so argumentative, that’s for sure.”

“That figures, I guess.”

Cai watched absentmindedly while Dirk finished his jobs around the car: checking tyre pressures and water, oil, the coolant levels. He didn’t know why Dirk bothered because the car was rarely used. Dirk had a truck for maintenance purposes and to pick up boxes of food from neighbouring villages. The Lincoln was primarily a show vehicle, used only on the rare occasions his mother actually RSVP’d to one of the many artistic charity balls she was invited to attend. She would get all dressed up (ball gown, diamonds, Chanel perfume). She’d appear deadly serious about attending, making a song and dance of Claire dressing her. She would ask Dirk to bring the vehicle around, but they barely got to the gates before she asked him to turn back.

Philippe never left the estate—apart from at night—and Cai was under the illusion that Philippe used the truck, too. He’d seen his father take the truck down the drive lots of times.

“Hey, what’s this?” Cai motioned to Dirk after spotting a small spillage underneath the driver’s side tyre.

“Good spot, son. Looks like the brake fluid’s out.” He pointed to the hoses that had been broken. “I’ll visit the shop because I don’t trust myself with such an important repair.”

Cai wondered whether half the jobs Dirk tended on the vehicle were invented just to keep himself busy. No doubt the house was busier at one time or another and Dirk had once been purposeful… but now what did he do, except teach Cai or conjure little jobs like that?

Cai watched intently while Dirk washed up in the dirty sink over by the workbench. The old man used handfuls of soap, washing and re-washing for quite some time.

“Almost time for dinner, son. Go inside, will you? See if Claire needs a hand… tell her I’m just cleaning up a mess.”

I TOOK A cab and it pulled up right in front of the Savoy. There was no way I was walking, getting the bus, or the tube—when I could get a shiny black cab to drop me right outside, looking as smooth and clean as when I left my own front door.

I walked through the vaguely familiar rotating doors and across the chequerboard floor of reception, into the breakfast room. The Savoy was like a dream and I hardly remembered it, though the last time I was there I was half-cut already and drunk on lust.

The maître ’d showed me to a table and I spotted Cai—but he wasn’t alone. I only saw the back of her but I think I knew who it was and started shitting myself. She was dressed and preened so pristinely, even from the back.

Cai sat opposite her so he saw me arrive, standing by the table to receive me. He wore a blue, striped boating jacket coordinated with a pair of light chinos, obligatory white shirt and tan deck shoes. There was clearly no excuse for plain dressing where his aunt was concerned.

He plastered on a bright, beaming grin for me and wrapped a large hand around the back of my neck. He kissed me longingly, bringing me tight to his mouth. He breathed hard, whispering, “I love you,” and pecked me again. I beamed with smiles, so happy to have gotten him back. I threaded my hand through his so he could lead me to our table.

I took a deep breath and wondered whether this was all real. I mean…! I looked around the restaurant and saw it was pretty empty. It
was
only nine a.m., I supposed.

“Chloe, this is my aunt, Jennifer.”

Jennifer Matthews was a woman pictured in numerous magazines, newspapers and online articles. To meet her, was frightening. She was so classy, it didn’t seem like she had made anything of an effort. So well put together, so clean, so simple. Her dark, bob hair was tucked neatly behind her ears and she wore a cream trouser suit (which I guessed was Chanel) over a simple white, silk camisole of some kind (I couldn’t see exactly, she had her jacket pulled closed). She looked up under her Gucci glasses and held out her hand jauntily.

“Chloe, pleased to meet you.” Her voice wasn’t
that
posh. To an American, she might seem posh but to another Brit, she sounded like a real Londoner. She didn’t stand, just vaguely glanced at me. I shook her gloved fingers and let go as soon as it was safe to, just so she didn’t feel my whole body trembling.

“I wasn’t expecting to meet you today,” I gushed, as Cai helped me into my chair, so the pair of us sat together opposite Jennifer. I briefly glanced at him as if to say,
You could have warned me
. He just shrugged. Perhaps he hadn’t known either.

“Cai is the master of secrecy, Chloe. You’ll have to get used to that!” She said it with an air of joviality but it made me wonder for a moment. Was she joking or mocking me?

“It’s a surprise, I can’t deny it. In fact, only a few months ago I was languishing in local news. This,” I gestured around the room, “is all so bizarre.”

“You worked for some terrible rags too, didn’t you?” He looked at his aunt. “Tell Chloe about
The Enquirer
.”

Jennifer leaned forward and removed her glasses to reveal fiery blue eyes so much like his. “Shush, you little tattletale. I might have lasted a week, or so.”

I decided they were definitely playful, so I was good.

“Eggs Benedict all around?” Jennifer asked, casting her eyes briefly over us. We nodded. What else was there to do but agree with the woman?

A waiter danced in our direction after receiving a nod from her and she ordered, “Three of the usual. What’s the best coffee you have at the moment?”

“Oh, I’ll check,” he whispered nervously.

“No matter. Just ask Pila to serve us whatever is the best at the moment. Tell him I know he keeps a hidden stash for Kensey… and I’m not happy to know I am not thought of as well.”

Kensey was a sworn enemy of Jennifer’s, so I’d heard. ‘Kensey’ referred to Kendra Lindsey, Kayla’s boss.

“Right away, Ms. Matthews.” The waiter, flushed and sweating, rushed off. I think he feared for his life.

“So,” she chirped, unperturbed, “I am thinking Alexander McQueen circa 1999.”

I wondered what the hell she was talking about until she vaguely nodded at my dress. It was a black velvet number circa 2000, in actual fact. I’d discovered it in one of the unmentionable bins where designer throwaways got sent. It was structured and with lace sleeves, a puffy skirt, a Victorian collar. I loved it—plus it looked fab with tons of fake pearls. I picked up the accessories from a store in Notting Hill during one of my weekends at Kay’s place.

“It’s 2000 actually.” I wondered whether she was testing me.

“And the jewels?”

“A vintage store in Notting Hill.”

She smiled wryly. “All kinds of pictures of you and your outfits were thrown across my desk during your little vacay in New York. Cai told me about the way you dress… yet I had to see it to believe it.”

Vacay
? I was starting to feel like I knew where this was going. Cai reached for my hand under the table to reassure me.

I tried to smile and find my confidence. “I really just bash a few bits together. It’s an interest of mine that’s stuck over the years.”

“The curvaceous woman with a talent for dressing individually,” she said, her hand motioning a headline in front of her eyes. “I see it now.”

“Are you mocking me?” Hers was a glib remark.

“You’ve a talent that can’t be bought or learned. It’s inherent. So, how about it? A new column for you? A new job? Get yourself away from the doldrums of that esoteric concrete block and instead be with those who will nurture and inspire you.”

I almost choked on my own spit and slowly turned to Cai to read his face, to see if I was fucking dreaming it all. He smiled. He was happy about the whole thing. Was I getting forced into something? It certainly felt like it.

Something bothered me.

“My best friend works for
Elle
, you know? This has nothing to do with it?”

“Dear, dear, dear,” she scoffed. “Your concern is rather sweet. Yet, why would I care what they do?”

“You should employ my friend, Kay… she has the fashion experience.”

Jennifer took out her phone and muttered, “Hmm, let me see.”

I watched while she navigated her device with one of those small touch-screen pens and I turned to Cai, trying to figure out what part he played in this.

“Aah, Kayla Tate. Very pretty lady. But she,” Jennifer pointed at the screen, which displayed Kay’s work profile on the
Elle
website, “is not you.”

“What do you mean?” My face actually twitched and I hated myself. I wanted my post-its and I wanted them now.

“You are
Frame
, darling. Look at you. Class, sophistication… just the right amount of attitude.”