Untouchable (17 page)

‘Stella, I’ve really no idea what you’re getting at.’ Alex sighs as if this conversation is starting to bore him. I suppress the impulse to drop the whole thing. After all, this isn’t a standard appointment – none of the usual rules apply. And what’s the worst that can happen? He doesn’t pay me?

‘It’s just that I’m curious. What Harry said. I got the impression you were all in on some kind of deal.’

Alex’s face stiffens, his eyebrows narrowing with irritation. I get a sense of something beginning to shift inside him. ‘Stella, you’re going to have to take my word for this. There is nothing here to concern you. Nothing at all.’

There’s a chill in his tone that unnerves me. And convinces me to stop. If I push this any further, he’s going to walk away.

I press my lips together. Take another gulp of wine to swallow down my frustration. ‘So why are we here then?’ I ask. ‘If we’re not going to fuck, or talk about Amanda, why exactly did you want to meet?’

He leans back in his chair. Looks around at the other diners, considering something. Closing his eyes briefly, he exhales, turning back to me.

‘I have a proposal.’

I raise an eyebrow. ‘How very romantic. And such a lovely setting.’

He doesn’t smile. ‘Listen to me, Stella. Carefully. What I have in mind should appeal to you much more than that.’

I don’t reply. Spike an olive on a toothpick and chew it slowly, watching him choose his next words.

He leans forward, grabs my hand. My skin tingles at the unexpected contact. ‘I’d like to offer you a more exclusive arrangement.’

‘Oh, right.’ I force a smile. ‘And I’m guessing this one doesn’t come with a ring.’

‘I’m being serious, Stella. I’m asking you to drop your other work. You will, of course, be more than adequately compensated.’

I stare at him for a few seconds, then laugh. ‘What? You want me to become your paid mistress?’

Alex’s mouth pouts at the corners. ‘I guess you could describe it as that, though it’s a trifle old-fashioned, wouldn’t you say? I view it more as a business arrangement – a mutually beneficial business arrangement.’

He takes his first sip of wine, unable to hide the grimace that follows.

I inhale. He is being serious, I realize, and in that instant I have an urge to get up and walk away. This is insane. Me. Him. This bizarre stand-off between us. But I stay put; I want to hear him out.

‘There’s a caveat,’ he adds.

‘What?’

‘I’d like you out of London.’

‘Out of London,’ I echo, revealing my surprise. ‘Why?’

He shrugs. ‘It’s not convenient for me.’

‘Not convenient? London? Then where is?’

‘New York. Paris. Pick a city. Just not London.’

I snort. ‘You’re having me on, right?’

His lips narrow with annoyance. ‘Did nobody tell you, Stella, not to look a gift horse in the mouth?’

‘About a thousand times,’ I say. ‘But I’m stubborn that way.’

Alex looks down at the table. Rubs the skin between his brows before raising his eyes to mine. ‘No, Stella. I’m not “having you on”. I’m making you an offer I very much hope you won’t refuse. An offer that is as much in your interests as mine, if not more.’

If not more.
There’s something in that I don’t like. It’s almost a threat – or a warning.

‘But why?’ I ask. ‘Why me? Why now? I mean, we haven’t even fucked, not properly. You barely even know me.’

‘Why not you?’ he exhales. ‘I like you, a lot. You intrigue me. I happen to find you rather appealing. And why now? Why not? My life is very complicated. I don’t have the kind of time or motivation to get involved in a romantic relationship. On the other hand, I want someone I can get to know. Variety may be the spice of life, but too much tends to dull the palate, I’ve found.’

‘So you’d prefer something more bland? More regular?’

He laughs. ‘Somehow I doubt you’d ever be bland, Stella. I’m sure you’d have an infinite number of ways to keep me on my toes.’

I smile, but unease settles back around me like a fog. ‘Wouldn’t you rather have somebody, I don’t know … younger? More glamorous?’ I think of Amanda. How much more suited to this kind of arrangement she’d have been. Or Anna even; Anna would jump at an opportunity like this.

Alex leans forward and pinches the end of my chin between his thumb and forefinger. It’s a peculiarly intimate gesture and I feel the heat rise to my cheeks.

‘It’s not all about that.’ His eyes flick down to my breasts, then he taps the side of my head with his finger. ‘I like what’s in here, Stella. Your mind, your spirit, call it what you will. I admire the way you see the world, how you move within it.’

‘But we’ve only met, what, twice before?’ I protest again, pulling away. ‘As I said, you don’t know a single thing about me.’

Alex looks nonplussed. Again that sense that he’d like to contradict me, that he can somehow see right into my head and my heart. ‘I
know
enough, Stella, to know I want to get to know you much better.’

I sit back, lost for words. Then actually consider it. I mean, what have I got to lose? What, after all, is there to keep me here?

The thought depresses me. How little ties me to my own life. How easily I could turn my back on it.

‘You’re crazy,’ is all I can think to say. ‘This is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.’

Alex leans back. Evaluating me. ‘Is there someone else? Someone special you don’t want to leave behind?’

I examine his face. ‘You mean a boyfriend?’

‘Or another client. You must have met some you like – and who likes you.’

Despite myself, I think of Ben; though I haven’t heard from him in weeks.

‘As far as clients are concerned, we’re consumables. Like this wine.’ I hold up my half-empty glass for emphasis. ‘You don’t date them. It never works out. And it’s a waste of money.’

‘Never?’

‘Not if you’ve got any sense,’ I say a little too bitterly, remembering that girl Anna knew, who married a client and was six months pregnant with his baby when she discovered he was back screwing other escorts.

‘So you’ve never been tempted,’ probes Alex. ‘Not even once?’

Christ, where is he going with this? Is he jealous or just winding me up?

‘Not even once.’

‘But you must fancy some of them, right?’

‘I fancy lots of people, Alex, but that doesn’t mean I want a relationship with all of them.’

He smiles. ‘And if you get to screw them on a regular basis and get paid for it, I guess that’s really having your cake and eating it.’

‘Exactly.’

Alex watches me, eyes narrowed in thought, while I drink the rest of my wine. Then leans over and grabs my hand and I find myself remembering that gun. Has he got it on him right now? Why the fuck
does
he have one, anyway?

‘You’ve never told me what it is you do,’ I say, holding his gaze.

He looks at me without speaking. ‘Does it matter?’

I shrug. Withdraw my hand.

‘If I’m not bothered about your profession, I can’t imagine why you’d worry about mine.’

‘Touché,’ I say, dropping the subject. Somehow I know I’m not going to get anything like a straight answer.

‘You see, every time you open your mouth you reveal yourself, Stella. It’s one of your best features. And one of your greatest faults.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Just think it over, will you? Take a few days. And …’ He pauses.

‘And what?’

‘And do me a favour, please. Keep a low profile.’

I frown. ‘Would you care to explain?’

‘Stay out of trouble, mind your own business.’

I feel myself tense. ‘Mind my own business?’

Alex shakes his head. ‘Never mind. Consider my offer. Let me know by the end of the week.’

He stands, retrieves his wallet and chucks a £20 note on the table.

‘Isn’t there something you’ve forgotten?’ I say, as he pulls on his jacket.

Alex cocks an eyebrow. Reaches inside his breast pocket and hands me the white envelope.

I push it back at him. ‘No,’ I hiss, a little too vehemently. ‘That’s not what I meant. If I said yes to your little proposal. How much are you planning to compensate me for that?’

He frowns down at the floor, then raises his eyes to mine. There’s something there. Something genuine.

‘Whatever it takes, Stella. Whatever it takes.’

25

Saturday, 21 March

Rachel doesn’t ask any questions when I ring and suggest I catch the next train down to Sussex. Doesn’t even mention the suddenness of my visit when she picks me up from the station. Just gives me a look that tells me she’s seen right through my cheerful expression to the miserable core of me.

‘Come on.’ She holds open the passenger door and nods at me to get in. ‘Tim’s got supper on and I’m starving.’

I glance in the car. Therese is asleep, strapped into the baby seat in the back, her head slumped to one side and a dummy trailing from her mouth. She looks huge compared to when I last saw her.

‘She only stopped crying a minute ago,’ Rachel says as I climb into the front. ‘I reckon she’s got another tooth coming through.’

‘Where’s Theo?’

‘With Tim. They’ve been off to get him a new pair of shoes. Now he won’t take them off. I foresee tears at bedtime.’

I pull on my seat belt then turn to Rachel. She looks tired, the skin beneath her eyes almost violet in tone. But she gazes back at me as if she’s thinking the same thing.

‘How’s London?’ she asks, in lieu of enquiring what I’m actually doing here.

‘Busy. I just needed to escape. Thanks for putting me up.’

The truth is I need air. Space. Time to reflect. The walls of my flat felt like they were closing in around me. Street noise sounded louder, more intrusive; even the ubiquitous shriek of sirens kept making me jump.

Alex’s offer has unnerved me nearly as much as Amanda’s death. Threatened to topple what little security I thought I had. Yet I seem unable to dismiss it out of hand.

‘Any time,’ Rachel smiles, squeezing my hand. ‘You know that goes without saying.’

The drive back to the house takes half an hour. We stop off at the out-of-town supermarket to pick up some salad to go with Tim’s lasagne. A tub of stuffed giant green olives and a loaf of fresh ciabatta. I insist on paying, throwing in a couple of bottles of decent red wine, mindful of how tight things have been since Rachel gave up work.

‘What a sight for sore eyes.’ Tim practically snatches the bottles from my hands as I step through the door.

‘Me, or the wine?’

Tim pretends to weigh it up. ‘Both.’ He laughs and kisses me on the cheek, while Theo hangs back in the doorway, eyeing me suspiciously.

‘You remember Grace, don’t you?’ Rachel nudges.

Theo gives a solemn nod. Then steps one foot forward, ostentatiously. I duly look down. They’re red leather, two straps with velcro fastenings and a small boat logo on the toes.

‘Hey, nice shoes, kiddo.’

Theo beams. ‘They’re new.’

‘So I see. Jolly smart.’

I reach into my handbag and pull out the comics I picked up at Victoria station. His eyes brighten as I hand them over and he skips into the lounge. I turn to Therese, now humped on to Rachel’s hip, and give her the giant wax crayons. She grabs them, turning the packet over and over in her fat little fingers, examining it intently.

‘Say “thank you”,’ says Rachel, nuzzling her face into her daughter’s.

‘Tank oo,’ gurgles Therese, her eyes never leaving the crayons.

Tim feeds the kids first and Rachel puts them to bed, reappearing twenty minutes later looking more exhausted than they were. I hand her a glass of wine.

‘I think Therese might have finally gone to sleep.’ She holds up crossed fingers and takes a mouthful. Her shoulders slump with relief. ‘God, I needed that.’

Tim places the bread in the oven to warm, then tips the salad leaves into a bowl and adds a few chopped tomatoes.

‘Did you decide about Rowland Marshalls?’ I ask Rachel as she joins me at the kitchen table.

She swirls the wine around, watching the streaks of alcohol slither back down the inside of the glass.

‘Not yet. They’ve given me till April to make up my mind.’ She takes another long mouthful. ‘Meanwhile, I’m considering setting up on my own.’

‘Great idea. There’s nothing like being self-employed.’

Rachel shoots me a frown and I laugh. ‘Truly. You have far more control over your own life.’

‘As a matter of fact,’ she says, ‘I’ve had an idea.’

I raise an eyebrow. She’s giving me one of her meaningful looks.

‘What’s that?’

Rachel sits back in her chair, twirling the stem of her glass between her thumb and forefinger. I sense her weighing her next words carefully.

‘Actually I was wondering if you fancied working with me?’ She fixes my gaze with hers. ‘You know, forming a partnership.’

I stare back at her. Behind me I can hear Tim busying himself with plates and cutlery.

‘But I don’t know anything about employment law.’

‘Well, I was thinking more of offering a broad range of services to local firms. Not simply legal advice, things like occupational psychology too.’ She watches my face for my reaction.

‘I was a
forensic
psychologist, Rachel, dealing with convicts and criminals. It had nothing whatsoever to do with the workplace.’

She presses her lips together and pushes on. ‘I’m aware of that, Grace. But you’ve already got your basic psychology degree and plenty of experience, so it’s only a question of doing a masters in the occupational bit. I’ve looked into it. It doesn’t seem that different from what you were doing before – only dealing with a different set of people.’

Out of the corner of my eye I see Tim shoot her a warning glance. I feel my jaw begin to tighten and I lower my gaze to the table.

‘Grace, it’s only an idea, something that crossed my mind, that’s all. A suggestion.’

I swallow my response. Try to force myself to appear less angry than I feel.

‘Just say you’ll think about it, OK?’

I take a slug of Bordeaux and look out into the darkness beyond the patio doors. The silence weighs heavy in the room.