‘No,’ I said, with a sad smile. ‘That was all me.’
‘Okay, and did you take any notice of what I’d written on…’ He paused briefly and, for a wonder, looked uncomfortable. ‘…the card I gave you?’
I raised my eyebrows at him. Touché. It was about time I got the upper hand, and he’d been hoist by his own petard. ‘Yes, I did,’ I said. ‘I went yesterday…Mr Filth Monger.’
He ran his hand through his hair. ‘That was - an oversight. I meant to…’ He fished in the pocket of his jacket. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘This is the card I meant to give you.’
I looked at it. It was more or less the same as the other one except, in place of the title Filth Monger, it read Nathaniel Forbes. Nothing else, except for a phone number – which looked to be the same as on the previous card. Nothing to tell me what he was, or what he did. There was something that rang a bell, from the night at the F Bar and, for a moment, I thought I knew. He did own the whole hotel.
But no, it was the Fforbes hotel. Double f the same as Ffyvells – that was why I remembered. It must be a coincidence - a pretty hefty one, but a coincidence all the same.
‘Nathaniel,’ I said, turning it over. The other side was blank. ‘And I had you pegged for a Keith…or possibly a Norman.’
He laughed. ‘Very good, Miss Anderton. Although, I have to say, I may as well be an Ermintrude, for the amount people use it. Most people simply call me Sir.’
There was an odd melancholy note to his voice that made me look up at him quickly, but as I caught his eye, he was smiling.
‘Ermintrude,’ I said. I couldn’t help smiling back. ‘It suits you.’
He nodded his head graciously, as if accepting a great compliment, before taking another sip of his tea.
‘Now,’ he said. ‘Let’s talk about last night.’
Twenty Six
Him
Whether she just didn’t want to talk about it now, or whether she was truly pressed for time, she suddenly looked at her watch and stood up.
‘I didn’t realise how late it was,’ she said. ‘I’ve an appointment.’
‘I’ll take you.’ I stood up, too, and drained the last of my tea. ‘Stephens is on standby, somewhere around here.’
I left a tenner on the table and escorted her back out into the shaded vaults of the market. She seemed on edge, and I knew how she felt. I didn’t know how to play it. I wanted to take her in my arms, there and then, and tell her how I felt, but it just seemed such bad timing, what with Charlotte and Rick. I didn’t want her getting caught up in all that. Added to which, it was true - Max would be pissed off. I couldn’t give a shit, for myself, but for her…he’d make her life hell, and it didn’t seem fair.
If I’d thought she felt the same, it might have been different, but she seemed distant again, back to the girl I’d spoken to on the verandah at the F Bar. I had to keep my desires to myself, for now, and focus on what she needed. I’d given her my word.
‘You don’t have to,’ she said, as we came out into the blaring rush of Lombard Street. ‘I’m going to the West End. I can find my own way.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ I said. ‘It’s practically on my way home.’
‘Does Stephens always drive you around?’ She looked at her watch again.
‘Now, you know very well he doesn’t,’ I said, with a grin. ‘But in the middle of the day, in the centre of London…well - it beats taking the bus, I suppose.’ Or the Tube, I thought to myself, remembering the previous night.
She laughed, and it was like she’d turned into another person. ‘You? On a bus? Now, that’s something I’d love to see.’
‘I’ve been on a bus,’ I said. ‘I was a student once, don’t forget. And you should laugh more. It suits you.’
‘Well, I suppose a bus might suit you,’ she said, with a wicked grin. ‘But it’d have to be a very special bus, for your own personal use. Gold-plated, and…with a Jacuzzi on board.’
‘A Jacuzzi?’ I raised my eyebrows. ‘What kind of man do you think I am?’
She looked directly at me and raised her eyebrows back. ‘We both know what kind of man you are,’ she said, pointedly. ‘You’re a filth monger. It says so on your card.’
‘Now, look, I…’
But at that moment, Stephens pulled up at the kerb and, by the time we’d got into the Bentley, the moment was lost.
So she was still dwelling on the card. No wonder she seemed distant. I tried again to address this warped notion she had of me, as we headed through the traffic into the West End.
‘Grace, about that card,’ I said, turning to look at her. The windows were down, and her hair was blowing across her face. I wanted to push it back for her, but I didn’t know how she’d take it. ‘I know what it said, but I’m not the kind of man to…’
‘I know what kind of man you are,’ she said, quickly. ‘You don’t have to explain. It’s why I called you. I wanted…’
She tailed off and looked out of the window.
‘You wanted…?’ I shifted in my seat, so that I was facing her. ‘What is it that you want, Grace? You can tell me.’
‘It’s not what I want,’ she said, still looking out of the window. ‘It’s what I need. I can’t help it…can’t help myself.’
‘And the counselling? You’ve only been once, you said.’
‘Didn’t help.’ She closed her mouth, firmly. ‘I’ll go again, but it won’t stop me. Nothing seems to stop me.’ She turned to look at me. ‘I wouldn’t have got in touch, otherwise.’
I turned away from her. So it really was all about that. I wanted to tell Stephens to pull over…to drop her off…but I’d given her my word.
My word. Christ, it did nothing but get me into trouble. Why was I so fucked off, anyway? She was hardly the first woman to come to me in a tail-spin. Hell, their friends, their husbands – even their fathers – sent them to me on a regular basis. She was just one more fucked-up female to sort out. I’d taken on the mantle - made it my mission in life. It was my decision, so why was I letting her get to me like this?
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, with an embarrassed laugh. She seemed to realise she’d said the wrong thing. ‘I didn’t know where else to turn. I know I sound crazy, but he…Leo…took my fantasies away. I just want them back.’
I’d heard women say similar things too many times, for too many reasons. She didn’t sound crazy to me, but it didn’t mean I had to like it.
‘And if you experience them? What then?’
‘Then,’ she said, with the hint of a sob in her voice. ‘I might finally get a decent night’s sleep.’
Neither of us spoke for a few minutes but, as we entered the West End, I knew I had to say something. She’d come to me for help, and I couldn’t leave it like this.
‘Look,’ I said, as Stephens pulled over at the address she’d given him. ‘If you want it that badly, I can make it happen – discretion assured and no questions asked – but, please, don’t ask me.’
‘Please,’ she said, even as I willed her not to.
There was nothing I could say. She had her own path to follow, and I knew that, if I tried any harder to dissuade her, she’d give up on me and walk it alone, and into certain danger. If she weren't killed, she’d be ruined – splashed all over the fucking media like her mate, Kitty Hart.
‘Be ready, then,’ I said, as Stephens got out to open her door. ‘Stephens will pick you up at seven.’
I left her, standing on the kerb and watching as we pulled away. I turned to catch one last glimpse of her and wondered, not for the first time, what was going on in that pretty little head of hers.
‘Home, please, Stephens,’ I said, turning away and getting out my phone. ‘There’s some business I need to attend to right away.’
Twenty Seven
Her
Jimmy turned out to be a quaint little man, in a garishly striped suit. Short and slightly balding, with his remaining hair combed carefully back over his tanned scalp, he held out his hand and shook mine warmly.