Valentine Present and Other Diabolical Liberties (16 page)

     
‘Cock it,’ mumbles Fi from the bathroom.

Cedric blinks several times, hands me the tampon and retrieves a lipstick from the floor.

      ‘Is there anything else madam?’

Yes, you couldn’t make a pay
-off for me could you?

     
‘That’s great, thanks Cedric.’

The door closes and I sit miserably holding Fiona’s Blackberry. She peeks round the bathroom door.

      ‘Was it them?’

     
‘I don’t know the number was withheld.’

The phone
rings again and we both jump.

     
‘Hello,’ I say breathlessly.

     
‘Well well, it’s ‘arriet ‘erself. Enjoying your bit of snobbery with them upper classes are yer? I bet yer thought you could get away from me didn’t yer?’

It did cross my mind.

      ‘Nice gaff is it? Maybe me and the boys should do it over.’

     
‘I haven’t forgotten the monkey,’ I say. ‘It’s just there is no phone signal here.’

     
‘Thing is, I ‘ad to bring me boys down ‘ere. An agreement is an agreement after all, you know what I mean? ‘olidays are bloody expensive buggers ain’t they? I’ve had to book a B&B and take the boys out for dinner. It all adds up. So I figured if it wasn’t for that bleeding ‘arriet, I wouldn’t be in Scotland freezing me fricking bollocks off would I?’

I suppose he has a point.

      ‘So, I’ve been thinking maybe a monkey’s not much for someone of your standing …’

     
‘I still don’t have any money,’ I argue.

     
‘Yeah right and I’m a monkey’s uncle. Talking of monkeys, you owes me one and let’s say another ton on top. I’ll be ‘appy with that.’

Oh God almighty, how much is a ton. It sounds a bloody lot. I’ll be mugging the grandmother next.

A ton, I mouth to Fiona, the gangster expert.

     
‘One hundred,’ she mouths back.

Blimey she’s good. I’ll give her that. Oh, that’s not so bad then. I thought it would be worse than that.

      ‘The meet will be tonight. I ‘ave a friend of a friend who ‘as a friend that’s a friend of mine. He owns an old disused ware’ouse. Be there at eight, at eight sharp. I’ll text details. Don’t let me down ‘arriet. Jules is relying on you, and put it in a nice little bag and I don’t mean a bleedin’ Sainsbury’s carrier bag. Got it?’

The phone goes dead.

      ‘When’s the meeting,’ Fiona asks sniffing from a bottle of bath oil.

     
‘Tonight at eight. His friend, that’s a friend of a friend, that’s a friend of his.’

What the hell am I saying?

      ‘Anyway, someone’s friend has a disused warehouse and it’s to be there,’ I say shakily, while wondering how the hell we are going to find the place. I barely know my way around the other side of the grounds here. How will I ever find the destination for the meeting? Jesus, I need to find a bank too and quickly. My head begins to spin.

     
‘That gives us plenty of time then,’ Fiona says vaguely, pouring oil into the bath.

     
‘How much money can you take out of the hole in the wall in one go?’ I ask.

She turns and stares at me, her hand poised over the bath. Oil pours from the bottle and the overpowering smell of lavender fills the room.

      ‘You mean you don’t have the money?’ she says aghast.

     
‘Of course not, I thought it would be Monday. Do you think they will take a cheque?’ I say hopefully.

Her face tells me this is clearly not acceptable, and who am I to argue with a leading authority on East End gangland?

      ‘Jesus, Mary Mother of God, have you gone insane? These people hack off limbs and then go and eat their dinner, and you want to give them a cheque? Christ, why didn’t you just ask if they took MasterCard?’

     
‘Do you think they do?’

     
‘Oh for Christ’s sake.’

     
‘Crikey, keep your bleeding hair on.’

     
‘What do you have in the bank?’

     
‘Enough but I don’t know where the nearest bank is. Anyway, I think you can only take three hundred quid out at one time. They want an extra hundred too. Can you get the rest on your card?’

     
‘I don’t believe this,’ she mumbles, turning the taps off. ‘Isn’t there a bell you can pull to get that Cedric guy up here? He can tell us where we can find a bank.’

     
‘This isn’t
Upstairs Downstairs
you know,’ I quip, picking up the phone and dialling the kitchen.

     
‘Yes Miss Harriet?’ Cedric answers.

     
‘I need to get some money. Is there a bank near here?’

     
‘There is one in the village, not far from here Miss Harriet. Should I ask James to come round with the car?’

I sigh with relief.

      ‘That would be wonderful Cedric, thank you. I have to go with Fiona to sort out some things and sign some boring papers,’ I say with a forced yawn.

     
‘Yes, of course Miss Harriet. I’ll be sure to have Emily ready for when you return, to dress you for the shoot.’

Oh shit, I’d happily forgotten about the bloody clay pigeon thing.

      ‘Let’s go,’ I say briskly.

Fiona looks longingly at the bath. Mumbles something about things being too good to be true and pulls out the bath plug.

     
Fortunately the bank isn’t that far away. I drag Fiona to the cash machine, whip out my debit card, punch in the numbers and
withdraw three hundred pounds. I hold the notes tightly in my hand and wonder if I will actually be able to part with them when the time comes. I silently curse Julian and turn to Fiona who is fumbling in her purse.

     
‘It’s here somewhere,’ she mutters. I try hard not to sigh, and yank her glasses from her handbag.

She reluctantly puts them on and finally pulls out a debit card. A small queue is beginning to form behind us and I urge her to hurry up.

      ‘Damn,’ she mumbles.

I follow her gaze to the machine’s screen.

      Incorrect pin, please try again.

I put my head in my hands.

      ‘How can you not know your pin number?’ I say accusingly.

She runs her hand through her hair.

      ‘Okay, don’t nag me. I just have to think. Debit card, debit card,’ she mumbles. ‘I’ve not used the thing for about a year. Right, if it’s not my birthday then it must be Alistair’s. I’ll try that.’

I cross my fingers and hold my breath as she punches in the numbers and groan
s when the message flags up again.

     
‘Oh God Fi, this is your last chance,’ I say panic punching me in the stomach. Jack Diamond is already decidedly pissed off with me. I somehow don’t think he will take kindly to me telling him I don’t have the money because Fiona couldn’t remember her pin number.

     
‘Jesus, the pressure,’ she groans, biting her nails.

     
‘Think,’ I say, adding to the pressure. ‘What numbers do you usually use for these things?’

     
‘Well obviously they’re all different aren’t they? That’s what they tell you to do isn’t it? Have different passwords and things, so you don’t get hacked.’

     
‘Someone will get hacked alright, if we don’t give them the money.’

Her face lights up.

      ‘I remember now. It’s the date Alistair and I met.’

I scoff.

      ‘No wonder you couldn’t remember it.’

     
‘You’re cruel sometimes, do you know that?’ she says in a hurt voice.

I decide only to apologise if it accepts the number. She taps it in and hallelujah, she gets it right.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ I say.

     
‘Oh God,’ says Fiona.

I look reluctantly at the screen
,
‘Your withdrawal has been declined due to insufficient funds.’

     
‘I take that apology back. How can you have insufficient funds?’ I say accusingly.

She stamps her
foot angrily.

     
‘Okay, so I don’t have enough. You’re a fine one to talk. You’ve not always been so flush, remember. I’ll take out a hundred on this and the rest on my credit card.’

A man behind us grunts and we pretend not to hear him. She tries again and manages successfully to withdraw one hundred pounds.

      ‘Right, that gives us four hundred,’ she says gleefully.

     
‘Keep your voice down,’ I whisper.

She fumbles through a wad of cards. She must have at least twenty of the things

      ‘Hau much longer will yer be,’ asks a woman behind us. ‘I’ve got wee bairns.’

     
‘Sorry,’ I say politely.

     
‘Hurry up,’ I say not so politely to Fiona. ‘The lady’s got wee burns.’

Fiona turns to glance at the woman.

      ‘How do you get those?’ she whispers.

     
‘How the hell do I know, now hurry up for God’s sake.’

     
‘Okay, okay, I have to think this through. The Barclaycard Gold is no good. I’m up to the limit on that. My standard Halifax has been blocked. I lost it, well at least I thought I’d lost it but then I found it in my make-up bag, but I’d cancelled it by then and the new one hasn’t come yet.’

     
‘Fiona, you’re giving me a migraine.’

     
‘Okay, sorry, I’ll try my other Halifax card I should be able to get fifty on that.’

     
‘You’ve got two?’

     
‘It’s a long story, and I don’t think …’

     
‘No, you’re right. Just do it Fi.’

Jesus, we’re going to be here all night and I don’t even have a mobile to let Hamilton know I may be late back for the shoot. See what happens when you try to
deceive people. It all comes back on you in the end. The Halifax card gives us another fifty with still another one hundred and fifty to go. I’m thinking it would be easier and quicker to mug someone.

     
‘Bugger it,’ sighs Fiona rummaging through her bag and spilling half the contents.

     
‘I’ve got a Creation card somewhere. I know the pin for that one and I have credit. I feel sure I have,’ she says desperately.

I look behind at the queue and give everyone an apologetic
smile as I diplomatically retrieve her spare undies that have attached themselves to someone’s leg.

     
‘Are yer leaving anything in that there machine lass?’ asks one woman.

     
‘Got it,’ Fi shouts, and everyone applauds.

God
, this is dead embarrassing. The machine accepts her pin and surprisingly allows her to withdraw another one hundred.

     
‘Shit, we still need fifty,’ I say.

Fiona begins another bag search and I hear a group sigh from the queue behind us.

      ‘Whit if we all gie ‘em a fiver?’ calls someone. ‘I’m already saxty sieven. I don’t want to still be standing here when I’m saxty aicht.’

     
‘What did he say?’ asks Fiona.

     
‘A’m already late for the bairns, I’ll gie a fiver.’

     
‘If it means we don’t see her knickers again, I’m happy to give a fiver.’

     
‘It’s okay,’ says Fiona nicely. ‘I have another one I can use.’

There is a groan as she pushes yet another card into the machine only to get the pin number wrong again.

      ‘Why don’t you know the pin numbers,’ I say, so exasperated at this point that I could scream.

     
‘Because I don’t usually use these cards for buying things,’ she retorts.

     
‘What the hell do you use them for then?’

     
‘Scraping her windscreen probably,’ someone quips.

     
‘I pay off my Barclaycard with them. So I don’t need a pin when I pay over the phone.’

I can’t believe she is an accountant. When it comes to her own money sh
e is as useless. The second try results in another decline and with a shaking hand she taps into her Blackberry to search for the pin number.

     
‘I’m sure I put it in here under Creation or something.’

     
‘It’s most likely under pin,’ I say cynically.

A few more grunts from the queue and she hiccups back a little sob.

      ‘I can’t find anything. I’ll just have to try again.’

A last ditch effort and a small hissing sound from the machine tells us it has swallowed the card.

      ‘Oh no,’ she cries. ‘It will all be my fault if they chop something off. I feel so guilty.’

She begins to sob.
I grab her and pull her towards the limo.

     
‘Thank you for your patience,’ I say politely as we pass the long line of people.

     
‘Well a’ll be foocked,’ I hear one say as James opens the door for us.

     
‘They say those with money are the worst,’ mumbles the burns woman.

     
‘I’ll try and borrow it from Hamilton,’ I say, knowing full well I won’t. There is no way he will give me any more money. I’ll just have to write a little apologetic note to the Jacks explaining the pay-off is short by fifty quid. I’m sure they’ll understand.

     
‘Oh yeah, sure they will,’ says Fiona when I tell her my plan. ‘And that’s a pig I just saw fly by. We’re foocked.’

I think she means I’m
foocked.

* * *

Diamond waltzes past me in the hallway, panting tuna fish breath as she goes. I have left Fiona to her luxurious bath and have quickly changed. I decide to take a stroll to work off my frustration, or I’ll end up shooting a lot more than bloody clay pigeons. The grounds are immaculate and I pass the gardener tending a flower bed.

     
‘The gardens are lovely,’ I say casually. ‘I don’t have a garden where I live. Well, you can’t really can you, not when you’re on the third floor. I tried to grow some hyacinths once but they just kept sort of flopping, do you know what I mean?’

God, I must be seriously losing the plot if I’m dis
cussing my hyacinths with the gardener. I see Melanie watching me from a window and continue walking. I think of my little flat at Marlborough Mansions. If only I was there now and none of this had ever happened. I could be poring over my study books while the spag bol bubbled away nicely. Okay, so we never had champagne, and there wasn’t much luxury and I slapped on Aldi’s cheap face cream, but I was happy wasn’t I? The Clinique is doing bugger all. I’ve aged overnight from all the stress anyway. I didn’t mind cheap plonk. It fact, if you ask me it tastes better than the posh stuff we have here. Okay, so I mixed it with lemonade but so what. Just goes to show I’m not meant for this kind of life am I? I have to constantly remind myself not to add lemonade to the wine. My mind wanders to the Jacks and my heart sinks. I look around expecting to see them pop up from behind a rhododendron bush any minute. How could I be fifty quid short? Diamond will go bananas. It occurs to me I could kidnap Diamond, not Jack Diamond, of course, I’m not that daft. Diamond the cat obviously. Margarita would no doubt pay a small fortune to get her back. I’d only have to hold the little demon for a few hours and then I could miraculously find her and claim the reward. I sigh. No, that wouldn’t work. I don’t imagine for one second the reward will be more than a thousand. Oh, if only a thousand was all I needed. Mind you, fifty pounds right now would be good. Jesus, the thought of
having a shotgun in my hand shortly is a bit disconcerting. I’m seriously beginning to feel I could mow everyone down. How could Julian have abandoned me like this? He must have been deceiving me the whole time we had been together, and because of him my future has been shot to pieces. As you can see I’m trying to stay in shooting mode.
The Jacks are going to bleed us dry, or should I say bleed
me
dry. I wonder if Julian has tried to call.

     
‘Penny for your thoughts.’

I look up to see Brice Edmunds walking towards me. I sigh.
Wanky tit basket, this is all I need.

     
‘Make it fifty quid and I’ll consider it,’ I say wryly.

He gives me a quizzical look. Actually,
on reflection maybe it is time I gave him a piece of my mind and a large piece at that. He’s wearing a
brown Lambswool pullover with a zip-neck. Beneath it I can just see a checked green shirt. His hair is tousled from where the wind has blown it. He approaches with a smile; I return it with a scowl. I’ve had as much as I can take from him. He is carrying a waterproof jacket and wears wellingtons over his corduroys. I march towards him feeling my face flush with anger. Ahead, in the distance, I can see Stalkers Lodge, and the memory of his hand on mine when we were treating the tramp floods into my mind.

     
‘How dare you judge me,’ I say angrily, feeling my jaw tighten. ‘You know nothing about me, nothing at all. You’re arrogant, rude, and disrespectful.’

He stops smiling and bites his lip. God, what’s happening to me? I’m getting aroused just by watching him biting his lip. Christ, I’ve been too long without sex, that’s my problem. It wasn’t a case of not wanting it with Julian you understand. It was more a case of staying awake to have it. I actually didn’t, in fact, stay awake that is. I fell asleep in the middle. How embarrassing is that? I look at Brice Edmunds
and find myself thinking
no way would I fall asleep in the middle of anything with you
.

     
‘I apologise for earlier. You’re quite right, I was rude,’ he says quietly.

     
‘Oh,’ I say, taken aback.

     
‘You’re very attractive when you’re angry,’ he smiles. ‘You have a very open face. Your eyes blaze when you’re angry and you lower them when you’re hiding something.’

I feel my jaw tighten.