Valentine Present and Other Diabolical Liberties (19 page)

     
‘It was business ‘arriet, not personal,’ says Diamond lifting his palms upwards.

Not personal, not bleeding personal. It was
my
goldfish wasn’t it? Not Mrs Mollard’s on the second floor. How much more personal can you get?

     
‘That’s the last I’m paying you. If you want any more you’ll have to get it from Julian. That money should keep the restaurant safe for one month unless of course you don’t keep your word.’

     
‘Don’t keep me word?’ Diamond pulls at the lapels of his jacket. ‘What kind of bleedin’ respect is that?’

     
‘Oh God, we’re going to die here, I just know we are,’ mumbles Fiona shakily. ‘Alistair will never forgive me if I die in this slum. Why can’t you just be nice to them?’

     
‘I’m sorry ‘arriet,’ says Babyface. ‘I didn’t mean any ‘arm.’

     
‘Shut up whining. How many times do I ‘ave to tell yer that ain’t ‘ow yer get birds,’ Diamond says angrily walloping Babyface around the head before turning back to me.

     
‘I suggest you get me another monkey by the end of this month, else ole Julian’s little gaff will be a pile of ash,’ says Diamond menacingly.

     
‘I’m not getting you a monkey, a goldfish or anything else.’

Although I could offer a cat I suppose. No, Harriet, think how distraught Margarita would be.

      ‘She’ll get it, I promise there won’t be a problem,’ says Fiona, popping a Valium into her mouth. ‘Isn’t that right Harry?’ she finishes looking at me hopefully.

No, it’s not right. I’ve had it with everyone now. I was really nice to young Jack and look what he did to me. I was a good girlfriend to Julian and look what he has done to me. No, enough is enough. My whole life has been ruined because of all this. To top it all I meet someone who I actually really like and he can’t stand me and all because of Julian and the bloody Jacks. I am going to avoid all people whose name begins with a J in future, unless it’s Johnny Depp, of course. I’ll make an exception then. If I didn’t have all this debt hanging over me I would tell Brice the truth. What a mess.

      ‘You bloody get it if you’re so keen,’ I snap at Fiona, turning on my heel towards the Porsche.

     
‘Nice motor. You like them porches don’t yer Mad Jack?’ he says turning to his son.

     
‘Get yourself a builder then if you like porches so much,’ I say sarcastically.

     
‘Oh God,’ groans Fiona.

     
‘You’re getting nothing else from me,’ I say firmly and grab Fiona who seems rooted to the spot. I practically drag her to the car and shove her trembling body into it. The Jacks watch me open-mouthed like three stooges. I fumble shakily with the key in the ignition and then with a screech, zoom off back the way we had come.

     
‘Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear me,’ groans Fiona.

     
‘Do shut up Fiona.’

     
‘Do you realise what you’ve done,’ she says, trying to tip pills from the bottle as I take a corner on two wheels.

     
‘Holy fuck Harriet, are you losing your mind. I certainly lost all my Valium when you took that turning.’

I ignore her and pull up sharply outside the
off-licence. I check the rear-view mirror to see if the Jacks are following us. Reassured that they aren’t and feeling quite sure that the youths standing outside the offy are a lot less intimidating than the Jacks, I climb from the car with Fiona yelling at me. I buy a bottle of whisky and stroll back to the car feeling surprisingly calm. I find Fiona fumbling around the floor crying and picking up pills.

     
‘I think you’ve lost your mind,’ she says throwing two Valium into her mouth and chasing them down with the whisky.

     
‘No I think I’ve finally come to my senses,’ I say, snatching the whisky bottle from her and taking a gulp from it.

She drops her head into her hands.

      ‘I don’t know why you’re getting so upset,’ I say, taking a swig from the bottle. ‘I don’t care about Julian, after all, he doesn’t care about me. I’ve given them what they want. There’s no reason why they should bother me again. I’ll do my bit here with Hamilton, take the money, pay my debts and get a nursing job. I’ve got a sneaky feeling I won’t see Julian again.’

     
‘You mean they’ve …’ she lowers her voice to a whisper, ‘topped him.’

     
‘I don’t know but if they have, he bloody deserved it. I prefer to think he’s laying low until I’ve paid off all the debts. Well, he can lay low his whole life because I’m not doing it. I’m getting my life back after this is over.’

She sighs and pops the pills back into the bottle.

      ‘You’ve forgotten haven’t you?’ she says with a resigned sigh.

     
‘Forgotten what?’

     
‘We were fifty quid short ‘arriet, remember,’ she says mimicking Jack Diamond.

Oh shit. I’d completely forgotten about that.

She whips the bottle out of my hand.

     
‘They’ll probably want more than a monkey next time and they won’t even consider an
Ant and Dec
. You should have listened to me. It will be a
grubby hand
and they’ll expect
sausage and mash,
and it serves you right. I kept saying to be nice.’

Bloody hell
, I think the whisky and Valium have scrambled her brain. Oh my God, she’s not had a stroke has she? She was in a bit of a state back there.

     
‘Fiona, I think maybe you’re in shock …’

Perhaps I should take her to see Brice, after all
, any excuse to see his gorgeous eyes and tanned body again.

     
‘For God’s sake,’ she screams and I almost drop the whisky. ‘
Sausage and mash
is cash,
Ant and Dec
is cheque and a
grubby hand
is a grand. I already told you this. You’ve messed them around Harriet and you got stroppy. Christ, you’ll be lucky if you escape being found in a back alley somewhere.’

I shiver.

      ‘Aren’t you exaggerating a bit? It’s only fifty quid,’ I say nervously.

     
‘It’s business ‘arriet, not personal,’ she says. Crikey she’s beginning to sound like one of them.

Oh God, how could I have been so stupid. I wonder if they’ll be happy with the cat until I can get the fifty quid sorted. Fiona sighs and I start the engine again.

      ‘Oh, I miss Alistair and I never thought I’d say that,’ she says miserably.

That
is a bad sign.

      I barely slept a wink that night. My dreams were full of stags with pleading eyes, which turned into Julian’s eyes, and the stag’s head became Julian’s head minus both ears. I have to say he looked okay in the dream but everything looks okay in dreams doesn’t it. Brice Edmunds muscled himself into it too, but all I could see was my reflection in his beautiful deep brown eyes. He smiled and leaned close until his lips were only a fraction from mine, and then he became Jack Diamond holding up the pink suitcase and shouting,

     
‘Where’s me fifty quid ‘arriet?’

I woke covered in perspiratio
n and with a severely itchy navel. It had taken me ages to get back to sleep and I tossed and turned until light streamed through the bedroom curtains. I shower, dress and blow dry my hair. I slip on my own filigree earrings in preference to those Marcus had lent me and wander downstairs. Everyone, including Fiona, is assembled in the dining room, dressed in hunting gear. The only exception is Melanie who is wearing the most ridiculous kimono I have ever seen. She is devoid of make-up and for a brief second I didn’t recognise her. Fiona is wearing my riding breeches with a white blouse and checked waistcoat. Blimey, she really is taking to the high life.

     
‘Ah Harriet, there you are,’ cries Margarita, clicking open a Filofax.

Crikey, I thought those things went out with car phones.

      ‘I’ve drawn up a list of guests for the party next weekend. Your parents will be back from St Martha’s Vineyard won’t they?’

Yes, I feel quite certain they will be. After all, their vineyard is only five minutes up the road and is known as Threshers, but I’m not going to tell M
argarita that am I?

     
‘I think so,’ I say hesitantly.

I see a cafeteria on the sideboard and walk over to it.

      ‘What are you doing dear?’ asks Melanie.

I stop as Cedric approaches me.

      ‘Can I get you croissants and coffee Miss Harriet?’ he asks, gesturing to a chair. ‘Or would madam prefer kippers, or perhaps porridge, or eggs benedict with toast?’

Blimey, breakfast is fast becoming a three course meal.

      ‘Just a croissant and coffee please,’ I say.

I reluctantly return to the table. Thank goodness Brice isn’t here to make his usual cutting remarks.

      ‘Can you give me your guest list by this evening?’ demands Margarita.

Fiona fidgets with some egg on her plate. I look pleadingly at Hamilton, although I’m not sure why the hell I bother. He just shrugs.

      ‘Actually, it will only be Fiona and her partner, and of course my parents,’ I say, biting into a croissant and showering crumbs down my top.

     
‘What about your friends?’ asks Margarita. ‘You surely have friends you wish to ask?’

I lift my eyes to Hamilton.

      ‘All Harry’s friends are in New York, and we were thinking we’d do something there a bit later, isn’t that right honey?’ he says.

Thank God. Why does it always take the bugger so long to help me out?

      ‘Yes,’ I mumble.

     
‘We were discussing it only last night weren’t we?’ he rambles on. ‘Everyone being so busy and everything and what with it being a bit last minute and well, we thought just family would be nice,’ he says sounding like a complete moron.

     
‘Yes, just family,’ I repeat, sounding even more moronic than him.

I feel all eyes on me.

      ‘Oh,’ says Margarita slamming closed the Filofax. ‘That won’t take much organising will it? Don’t you have work colleagues here, or old university friends? You surely have brothers and sisters? What about your grandparents?’

Heavens, talk about a cross examination. Can I use my fifty-fifty, or call a friend?

      ‘Grandmother is in a home, and she rarely ventures out, and my other grandparents are dead …’

     
‘Who’s going to be your maid of honour, and what about the bridesmaids?’ she snaps.

I’m actually hoping there won’t be a bride, let alone bridesmaids.

      ‘Her sister …’ Hamilton begins. He stops at my piercing glare.

W
hat is he saying? Caron and Gary can’t come here. Caron with her purple pineapple hair and him with his shaved head and tattoos, it will be like
Big Fat Gypsy Wedding
meets
Downton Abbey.
He’ll be swigging a Becks from the bottle and she’ll be knocking back white wine spritzers. It’s bad enough that my mum has to come. She will no doubt ask for her port and lemon, and my dad is bound to dunk his bread in the soup. He’s done that for years so they’ll be no stopping him. It’s too painful to think about. I’ve only got four days to prime them. I’m never going to knock forty years of habit out of them in four days am I? It would be easier to kill them all. God Harriet, what are you thinking of? This is what comes of owing money. It makes you consider matricide and patricide. And if you include my sister and her boyfriend it is more like genocide. This situation is turning into my personal hell. Hamilton returns my look with a grimace. I know he’s paying me a hell of a lot of money but does he have to make me work so bloody hard to earn it?

     
‘She’s surely coming then?’ says Margarita while Melanie and Sebastian continue to eat their eggs benedict in an uncomfortable silence.

     
‘Of course, of course, that goes without saying,’ says Hamilton.

Margarita opens the Filofax and at that moment the door swings open and Brice glides in with an air of confidence. He looks so sexy and appealing that I have to avert my eyes.

      ‘Ah Brice, we’re just discussing the guest list for the engagement party at the weekend. Who will you be bringing?’

Yes, who will you be bringing I think, pricking up my ears.

      ‘Why do I have to be bringing anyone? Can’t I come alone?’ he grins at his grandmother.

     
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I just thought there might be a special someone you might wish to invite.’

Yes, surely there is someone special isn’t there? How can he be so handsome, confident and sexy and there not be someone specia
l in his life? I hate the bitch whoever she is.

     
‘No just me, but if you’re really insistent on it I’m sure I could drag someone along. Why don’t you be my date old girl, and give Lionel a rest that night.’

There is no earthly way this guy is available. It’s not possible. Oh God, don’t tell me he’s bleeding gay, that would so be my luck wouldn’t it? He leans over me to the toast rack and I inhale the fresh smell of him.
Margarita looks at the list she’s just written and sighs.

     
‘I suppose we’d better invite the Major and of course Lady Sophie Henderson. What about your mother, do you think she’ll make some kind of effort to get here for her nephew’s engagement party?’ she asks Brice, pushing the jam towards him which sadly stops him leaning over me.

     
‘I doubt it, after all it’s a ridiculously long way to come for a party,’ he replies, accepting a cup of coffee from Cedric.

     
‘A ridiculously long way to come and visit her dying mother too, it would seem.’

     
‘You look perfectly okay to me,’ he grins, ‘but we should take your blood pressure before you go on the stalk.’

She waves her hand dismissively.

      ‘Nonsense,’ she says.

     
‘I’m still going to take it.’

She looks down to her Filofax but I detect a little smile on her lips.

      ‘Right, that’s the guest list organised. Jeremy is coming this afternoon to clean the ring ready for the weekend and I’ve contacted Grayson’s to do the catering …’

     
‘Oh,’ says Hamilton lifting his hand. We wait expectantly while he finishes chewing his kipper. To think I am supposed to be marrying this creep.

     
‘Grayson’s are the best,’ says Margarita in a tone that clearly indicates she has no intention of debating it.

     
‘It’s just, well,’ struggles Hamilton.

     
‘It’s just well what?’ I snap, surprising myself.

He glares at me and says ‘It’s just Grayson’s are rather pricey Grandma.’

      ‘Exactly. Why do you think they’re the best, boy?’

Melanie stands up, wobbles and leans on my chair for support.

      ‘Are you alright?’ I ask, jumping up to steady her.

     
‘Just a migraine. I’ll retire to my room I think,’ she says softly.

     
‘Can I bring you something? Would you like a hot drink and some painkillers?’

I feel Margarita’s eyes on me and Hamilton taps me lightly on the arm.

      ‘Emily will see to anything Mother needs, but I’m sure Mother is grateful for the offer,’ he says sternly.

I pull my arm away and I see Fiona cringe.

      ‘I’ll help your mother to her room,’ I say sharply, leading Melanie gently towards the door.

     
‘I’ll send Emily up,’ he says.

     
‘We won’t need Emily,’ I say firmly.

Melanie looks about to faint and I’m not sure if it’s the migraine or the fact that I am escorting her to her room. Once there she falls onto her bed and I look
around in awe. This isn’t a bedroom it’s a full-size apartment. I run the cold tap and soak a towel under it. She accepts it gratefully and takes a painkiller.

     
‘Margarita will be cross I’m not with the family for the stalk,’ she says anxiously.

I wonder if this is a real migraine, or if she also is making an excuse to get out of the thing. I would invite her on the boat trip but it seems a shame to share Brice doesn’t it? I pull the curtains and quietly leave the room. I look over the bannister to see everyone heading out. Fiona sees me and rushes up the stairs.

      ‘Aren’t you coming on the stalk?’ she asks.

I shake my head. ‘Not unless you’re stalking Jack Diamond.’

She pulls a face.

     
‘I’m surprised he hasn’t texted about the fifty pounds. He must have noticed by now.’

That’s all I need. A silent Jack Diamond is much worse than a chatty Jack Diamond. She hands me her phone and dashes down the stairs.

      ‘If Alistair calls, tell him I’m out stalking stags. Just so he knows he isn’t the only one having fun.’

Fun?
Christ, she has a warped idea of fun. She skips down the stairs waving a hand at me and almost collides with a sour-faced Hamilton on his way up.

     
‘Sorry,’ she mumbles. ‘No contacts.’

     
‘What are you doing? I thought you were coming on the stalk,’ he hisses.

I step back as his kipper breath suffocates me. God, he really needs to do something about that halitosis.

      ‘I’m not the stalking type,’ I retort.

     
‘I couldn’t give a shit. What does it look like you going off with Brice in the boat? You’re making a bloody fool out of me.’

That’s a joke. He doesn’t need my help to make a fool of himself.

      ‘He said your grandmother wouldn’t fall for a migraine. He told her the truth, I’m not a stalking person and neither is he so he offered to take me out on the boat, and besides I really think you should back me up more. You know how I hate lying.’

He huffs.

      ‘This business is one big lie, or hadn’t you noticed? Anyway, I’m not sure you should go with Brice, it doesn’t look good on me.’

     
‘I don’t want to go,’ I say, lying through my teeth.

     
‘Just watch what you say,’ he snaps before storming off.

I click my heels.

      ‘Yes sir,’ I retort primly.

Bloody hell, what a Nazi.
I watch the hunting party from the landing window as they pack their weapons into the back of the stalker’s Range Rover. What a relief to be free from them for a few hours. To my surprise I see Margarita not only out of her wheelchair, but leading a horse. Well I never. I hope I’m that fit when I’m three months from dying.

     
‘I’m leaving in ten minutes,’ says Brice behind me. I spin round to face him and something clutches tightly at my belly. He is composed and carrying his coffee cup.

     
‘Meet me on the jetty, you can’t miss it.’

I nod mutely and watch him stroll out of the house. I frantically think of what I can wear. I fly back upstairs and throw everything from the wardrobe onto the
bed. There is absolutely nothing I feel comfortable wearing. I finally rummage through my suitcase and pull out one of my woollen sweaters and throw it over a silk shirt, and then don my jeans and boots and pull my Boho poncho over everything. I grab my handbag and force myself to walk to the loch as calmly as I can. In the distance I can see him loading things into the little rowing boat. I try to imagine my parents up here. I will have to keep a constant check on Mum otherwise she will be getting out the hoover or clearing everyone’s dishes to do the washing up. It really does not bear thinking about. It’s hard enough keeping up this farce without them here. And what the hell is wrong with Hamilton? This isn’t at all what we agreed. It was only supposed to be a bleeding weekend. Before I know where I am I’ll be bloody marrying the wet dishcloth. Yes, that’s about right. I’ll find myself at the altar and Mum will be handing around cheese and pineapple sticks to all and sundry. They’re her favourites, that and port and lemon. I’ll have to jump on Margarita’s horse like
The Runaway Bride.
I seriously cannot believe I have let things go this far. And now I’m about to step into a boat with Mr Drop Dead Gorgeous and I don’t like to say I can’t swim. I’ve always meant to learn and I have tried a few times but I just can’t manage to get that other foot off the bottom of the pool. Do you know what I mean? I kind of skip along the pool from one end to the other and make it look good but if anyone so much as attempts to get that other foot off the bottom, I’m flapping away like a bloody penguin. I only hope this bleeding boat is safe. Didn’t they mention a boat at dinner the other night, and if I remember both Hamilton and the Major were not very complimentary. Maybe I’ll end up drowning. I suppose that will save Jack Diamond from chopping me into little pieces. My heart lurches at the thought of Diamond. Fiona is quite right. It is very odd of Diamond not to mention the missing fifty quid. He must have read my note. What if he is planning something terrible, something to take me totally by surprise? They will probably zoom up to us in the middle of the loch and board the boat like Somali pirates, and hold us at gunpoint until I pay the fifty quid. They always seem to know my next move. My blood turns cold. Jesus, how can I get in the boat now? Brice turns and the intensity of his stare is almost mesmerising. He looks at me in amazement as I drag my hair back and tie it with a band.