The Deal (30 page)

“Are you seeing her tonight?” she’d asked.

“Yes,” he’d replied. “But it’s just a business drink. She’s a member of my staff.”

“How many other people will be present?”

“Just Sara.”

“Where are you meeting her?”

That was a more difficult question because Oliver had realised that The Westbury would suggest more than a business meeting. But Amanda had already moved on.

“Well, you’ll find out soon enough but I’d rather tell you myself.” She’d stopped and sipped some wine. “Zach has obtained custody of his children. Apparently his wife had been stalking the headmaster at her school and the police became involved.” She’d taken another sip. “Their divorce is going through – Zach has the boys and I’m moving in with them.”

He’d wondered whether to tell her that this breached the terms of their deal, but decided this might not be the best move.

“Let’s be honest with each other, Oliver. We’ve never really settled into a relationship. You’re everything a woman could want but perhaps I’ve been looking for something different.” She’d paused. “I’m fed up of the uncertainty.”

“Are you ready to be a mother to two boys?” he’d asked.

“Zach and I have spent time with them. I’m their friend. Their new friend. Their mother will always be Zach’s ex-wife. She’s having therapy and is expected to recover. Zach has bought her a house.”

They’d sat in silence for a few moments.

“We’ll be a family and we’ll add to it in due course. It’s what I always wanted.”

He wanted to say the right thing – somehow to indicate his genuine pleasure at her news and also his frustration that their relationship could now never be fulfilled. He achieved neither, because Amanda stood up, kissed him and walked briskly out of the hotel.

It took him some time to collect his thoughts. He had watched one of the most beautiful women he had ever known walk out of his life. Even as she left the hotel her vitality gave her the most seductive aura. She had simply said “goodbye”. There had been no discussion, no appeal and no chance to change her mind. Oliver was still confused about his true feelings for her and, now he’d been rejected, was unable to decide what he really thought. He had wondered whether, if they had become closer, he might find that Alistair had too much influence. He wondered what Zach thought of her brother. She was going off to look after two boys and co-operate with a soon-to-be ex-wife – her feelings for Zach must be true.

He went back to his office and attended to his emails and phone calls. Both Charles and Andrew had called him, wanting the completion of the buy-out as soon as possible. When he left, only the salesmen remained as they debriefed with Duncan on the day’s activities and results.

Now, two hours later he was waiting for Sara at The Westbury. He was surprised how excited he was feeling. He knew they were growing close, but felt some vague resistance on Sara’s part. Tonight he intended to tell her how he really felt about her.

He wondered if he should tell her about developments with Amanda before deciding that this was not a good idea. He found his mind drifting away and recalling their times together.

Sara arrived twenty minutes late. It was the first occasion he could recall seeing her in a dress. She looked beautiful. Unfortunately, she was also holding the hand of a petite dark-haired girl.

“Oliver,” she said, “this is my partner, Alex.”

He looked at Sara and he studied Alex and his mouth dropped.

“I did try to tell you,” she said. “You should have read
The Girl who Played with Fire
.”

“Of course,” Oliver said to himself. “Steig Larsson’s second book. Lisbeth Salander was a lesbian.”

A smile played on Sara’s lips.

“We’re not staying,” said Sara. “See you tomorrow.”

He was staggered at the way Sara had come out to him. It was typical of her style. Her attempts to deflect his attentions suddenly made a little more sense.

He watched them leave and then ordered a large scotch. He would get a taxi home. He suddenly felt rather deflated. Nothing was going right. The music system was now offering, for some strange reason, Frank Sinatra and ‘Strangers in the Night’.

He was that individual and he’d managed to lose the woman he had really wanted. How on earth had he allowed Zach to re-appear on the scene? He suddenly desperately wanted to contact her.

As he continued to ponder miserably on recent events, he realised that he could hear a familiar piece of music. He turned to his right, where he found a dark-haired woman with ear phones attached to her iPlayer. He could just make out the sound, ‘da-de-da’, and the violins and trumpets. It was his piece of music.

He smiled and introduced himself. She said that her name was Christina and, when he asked whether he might listen to the music himself, smiled and put the machine on the table. She turned up the volume. It was what Oliver had been searching for. He felt his spirits slowly begin to rise.

He told her about his search through the Russian composers.

“You want to know the composer and the title?” she said.

“Yes, more than anything,” said Oliver. “Do you know them?”

“Oh yes,” replied Christina. “But let’s get to know each other first.”

She was from Finland and worked for the Helsinki Tourist Board. She loved her subject and soon Oliver knew that her country had a population of five and a half million people, was a member of the United Nations, the European Union and the Eurozone and was considered one of the most peaceful countries in the world.

She called the waiter over and ordered vodka and tonics for both of them without consulting him.

“There are four countries with borders attached to Finland,” she said. “If you can name them, then I might be willing to tell you the details of the music you want.”

“You speak perfect English,” he said.

“I do many things perfectly,” she replied. “Now, the four countries that border my country.”

“Sweden, Norway…er…Russia.”

She clapped her hands. “One to go,” she laughed.

Oliver clawed his memory for his school geography lessons. There had been some boundary changes. He could visualise the land masses and felt certain it was on the eastern side. Suddenly he had the answer.

“Latvia!” he announced.

“Oh, so close,” she said. “I’ll allow you one more go.”

“It’s south.”

“Yes, yes, come on Oliver, you can get it.”

“Estonia,” he said.

She gave him a congratulatory kiss on the cheek.

“You are so clever, Oliver. That was difficult!”

Oliver glowed with pride. “Come on, Christina, please, the composer and the title.”

“Oliver,” she said, “I’m on my own tonight. I like you and I think I would enjoy your company.”

He took a rapid drink of vodka and noticed that she’d signalled to the waiter for further supplies.

“We could make love listening to the music and afterwards I could tell you the composer.” She had carefully hidden the screen of her iPhone so he could not see the name of the composer.

Oliver looked at her, gulped and burst out laughing. An hour later they walked together towards the lifts. Once they had reached floor five and entered the room, Christina closed the curtains and began to undress. She sat on her bed and indicated to Oliver that she wanted him to join her. He made a false start and she had to tell him that she expected him to take his clothes off as well. She turned up the music.

“Oliver, when it reaches the third movement there is a magnificent moment when violins, trumpets, piano and drums combine. First – we’ll make love for an hour. Then we’ll play the music. It takes seven minutes to reach that point. I want you to give me my orgasm at that exact moment.”

“And then you’ll tell me the composer?”

“No, then we’ll start all over again!” She laughed. “But I promise you, Oliver – fulfil me and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

And so their evening of passion began and soon their naked and perspiring bodies were rolling around the bed. ‘Da-de-da’ filled the room. They went through the first and second movements when, suddenly, Christina put her hand on his chest and pushed him away.

“Please put on your towelling robe,” she instructed.

Oliver struggled to understand what was happening but before he could protest, Christina had slid off the bed and made her way to the bathroom. A few moments later she came out with a large fluffy white towel wrapped around her. She sat down on the side of the bed and patted the space next to her. Oliver joined her and sat submissively.

“You’re not making love to me, Oliver.”

“Er…I’m doing just that, Christina. What more do you want?”

Christina smiled. “You are thinking about somebody else.”

“How the hell did you know that?” he exclaimed.

“Is she as pretty as me, Oliver?”

Oliver’s defences collapsed. “She’s a golden beauty, Christina, but she’s with another man.”

“You love her?”

“Very, very much. I’ve only just realised. But it’s too late.”

“It’s never too late.”

“If only that were true.”

Christina stood up. “I have a busy day tomorrow, Oliver. You must leave now. Go and find her.”

He dressed and went to leave, but noticed she was checking her mobile phone.

“I don’t suppose you’re willing to tell me about the piece of music. The composer, perhaps?”

She picked up a cushion from the chair and threw it at him.

“No. Thought not,” murmured Oliver, as he escaped through the door.

Chapter Eleven

Jody was simply overjoyed. The revised drugs’ regime was having a real effect on Ben. He was a day away from his fourth birthday and he knew that his mum was going to make him wait before he could open the parcels lying at the bottom of the bed. She had called in at the Arsenal football club shop because she wanted to be sure that the shirt she bought was the latest being worn by the players. It had cost her an arm and a leg, but was worth every penny.

There were two other children in the ward. One was sleeping and the other had his parents with him. She started talking to her son. She told him about the formation of Chatham Capital and their success in raising the money for City Fiction. Oliver had pulled a masterstroke by suddenly announcing that everybody would get a bonus when the commission payment was received by the company. She was to get just under three thousand pounds after the savage deduction of George Osborne’s taxes. That’s how she looked upon it. She hadn’t received a reply from her MP about her views on the NHS, but he was a Cameron supporter so he could do what he liked. She knew that there was a Boundary Commission report due in September which would recommend that the number of MPs was reduced by fifty, in line with the coalition agreement. She hoped that he might lose his seat.

She had had fun deciding how to spend her unexpected windfall. She was going to put one thousand pounds in her ‘Ben’ fund. She would pay off a similar amount from a credit card, buy a new outfit for the office and use the balance to help pay the latest utility bill.

She was on fire. She had been to the hairdresser and asked him for a different style. She had cleaned the flat from top to bottom. She had removed several framed photographs and stored them away. She was rebuilding her life. She loved the atmosphere at Chatham Capital. Martin was the central figure commanding the office, teasing Abbi, bullying Duncan and suffering at the hands of Sara, who never failed to bring his bulk into the conversation. One day he had found a package from Weight Watchers on his desk.

There was talk of a new client and the brokerage team had placed an AIM stock, raising over fifty thousand pounds.

Oliver spent a lot of his time with Jody and Melanie – they were the ‘inner circle’. This was initially inevitable, such were the financial and regulatory demands on their time. But somehow, as the days moved ahead, it became the ethos of the company. Oliver was always available to anyone but their ownership of the business seemed to result in the individuals taking more responsibility. Their meetings were shorter and better focused. Duncan remained on the defensive but was concentrating his efforts with the sales team. Abbi and Sara were working together nearly all the time and, recently, they had surprised Jody by taking her out for lunch.

Ben was gurgling away and she wiped the spittle from his mouth. They had now talked together for thirty minutes and Jody sensed he was gaining in strength. She could resist no more. She reached to the bottom of the bed and picked up one of the parcels. She handed it to him. He tore it open and ripped off his top. Within seconds Ben was playing at ‘No. 8’ for Arsenal.

His sense of fun was returning, evidenced by several toothy grins. She noted from his chart that he was putting on weight and, when he held her hand, his grip seemed firmer.

She stayed at his bedside for three hours. He slept for much of the last hour, but then opened his eyes and became lively again. Finally, Jody kissed him goodbye and hugged him. As she left the clinic, she prayed that the birthday card that arrived every year would be delivered to her son on his special day.

Nick Rudd pulled his wife towards him and kissed her. He had relished their evening together which, in itself, was unusual. He told her about his teaching activities and a particularly gifted pupil who was being pushed too hard by her parents. He looked at his wife and stroked her face. He was deciding whether to ask her a question.

“Bit unusual for you, Detective Chief Inspector Rudd,” he said.

Sarah loved it when her husband used her full title. Their opportunities for intimacy were limited by their dedication to their children and her crazy hours. When she had arrived home after finding Tabitha she had cried in his arms.

“What’s unusual?” she asked.

“Why did you tell me all about this Charles Harriman? He’s not done anything wrong, has he?”

Sarah hesitated before deciding on her reply. Her husband had this great gift for identifying her inner thoughts.

“It’s what he might do, Nick. It just
felt
all wrong to me…” she replied.