‘Don’t worry. Mitch, we’ll get them, eh?’
I was too mellow to be angry. Leave it to a later date. He dropped a chunk of change on the table, said,
‘Least you get paid, okay buddy?’
‘Okay.’
Trying for friendly, he asked,
‘So what’s this other job you’ve got?’
I told him the lot, even down to the fast moves of the butler. He said,
‘The old dame, sounds like you got the hots for her.’
‘Don’t be daft.’
‘Tell me again about the Silver Ghost.’
Blame the booze but I did, told him far too much. Should have seen the glint in his eyes. But like I said, my focus was shot to hell. He said,
‘Sounds like loot.’
‘What?’
‘Be worth knocking over.’
‘Hey.’
‘No, c’mon Mitch, like the old days. Bound to be a ton of
cash
jewellery
paintings.
I got to my feet. Not very imposing in the dressing gown, said,
‘Billy forget it. Who’d you think the cops pull first?’
‘Just a thought. I better get going.’
At the door I said,
‘I meant what I said, Billy, stay away from it.’
‘Sure, Mitch, cross my heart and hope to die.’
Back to the couch. I eyed the remainder of the Bush. Sleep took me before I reached for the bottle. I was glad of that when I woke on Monday morning. I felt battered and bedraggled but figured I’d at least show up for work.
The phone rang. Dr Patel. He’d made the funeral arrangements and wondered about a service. I said no. Joe would be buried on Tuesday evening. I thanked him and he rang off.
Wouldn’t you know, the tube’s on the blink and eventually I had to take the bus. Yet again, Holland Park seemed another world.
As I got to the front door, Jordan opened it. He eyed me with disapproval, asked,
‘Accident?’
‘Strenuous workout.’
‘You can’t come in here.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Tradesman entrance is round the back.’
A look passed between us, we filed it for later.
I went round the back into a kitchen. It looked like the one from ‘The Servant’. I didn’t expect, alas, to find Sarah Miles on the kitchen table. Jordan came in, asked,
‘Tea... coffee?’
‘Coffee’s good.’
He started to arrange filters and I asked,
‘Like real coffee?’
He gave a tight smile, waved to the sideboard, said,
‘There’s muesli, cornflakes, toast. As you wish.’
I nodded. He turned to face me, said,
‘Or perhaps you are more accustomed to porridge.’
My turn with the tight smile. I asked,
‘You’re all the staff then?’
‘Madam requires no one else.’
The coffee perked. Sure smelled good. One of the disappointments of life, that coffee never tasted as good as the aroma. Took the cup, tasted it, said,
‘Shit, that is good.’
He held up a finger, said,
‘Madam does not allow swearing in the house.’
‘She can hear us, can she?’
No answer. I took out two painkillers, swallowed them with the coffee. He asked,
‘Are you hurt?’
‘Like you care.’
He left the kitchen. Returned with some sachets, said,
‘Dissolve one of these in water, they are quite miraculous.’
I had nothing to lose, got a glass, tore open one, added water.
The powder turned pink. I said,
‘Pretty colour.’
‘Madam receives them from Switzerland.’
I drank it, tasted sweet but not unpleasant. I said,
‘Much as I’d love to chat, I better go to work.’
He said, ‘That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?’
In the garage, I admired the Rolls Royce again. I’d have given a lot for a spin. Took me a while to put on the overalls. My nose was aching like a bitch. I checked the work chart:
Monday — Painting
Okey-dokey.
The front of the house windows and the shutters sure could do with a coat. Got the ladders out and began mixing paint.
Half an hour in there, I felt relief. The pain that had been continually battering my body ebbed away. I said aloud,
‘God bless Switzerland.’
One of the most valuable items in prison is a walkman. That and a bodyguard. You put those headphones on and slip away, It’s not a wise thing to do on the yard. You can’t afford to be less than a hundred per cent vigilant.
As I leant the ladder against the wall I put on the walkman.
The tape was Mary Black. Kicked off with ‘Still Believing’, strange prayers in strange places.
Believe it.
Getting into a rhythm of work, I didn’t realise I was at a bedroom window. I could see a four-poster bed. Then she walked into view, wearing a silk dressing gown. I thought,
‘Whoops, I better get outta here.’
I didn’t move.
She was taking off the robe. Naked as a jay. Her body was in great shape. I was getting hard. Then she began to dress slowly. Black stockings and silk underwear. She looked up, a tiny smile at the corners of her mouth. I moved down the ladder, my mind on fire. Mary Black was doing ‘Bright Blue Rose’ but I couldn’t concentrate. Moved the ladder to another window, got going on that.
I didn’t see her for the rest of the day. But she was lodged in my mind like a burning coal. Come lunch time, I headed for the kitchen. Sandwiches were neatly laid on the table. A bowl of fruit left beside them. There wasn’t a sound in the house. So, I ate silently and then went outside for a smoke.
Jordan appeared from the front of the house. I said,
‘You don’t make a lot of noise.’
‘No, it’s not necessary.’
Argue that. I didn’t.
I thought, fuck him, and concentrated on my cig. He was standing watching me. Then,
‘You do good work.’
‘Glad you’re pleased.’
More silence. I figured I’d let him do the digging. He asked,
‘Do you like it here?’
‘What?... Oh... it’s different.’
‘Would you like to move in?’
‘Come again?’
‘Not in the main house but there’s a room above the garage, a little spartan but comfortable. TV and shower, of course.’
I stood up, asked,
‘Are you serious?’
‘It would save you commuting.’
I didn’t want to close any doors. If the Clapham deal went sour, I’d be glad of an alternative. I said,
‘Lemme think about it.’
As if he read my mind, he said,
‘Perhaps too you might get to drive the Silver Ghost.’
When I got back to Clapham, the Swiss effect had worn off and I was beat. A BMW was parked outside my place. Tinted windows. The door opened and Norton got out, said,
‘Somebody to meet you.’
‘Now?’
I couldn’t keep the irritation outta my voice. Norton hushed me. I fuckin’ love being hushed. He said,
‘It’s the boss, come to meet you in person.’
‘Gee whiz.’
A large man got out. Wearing a cashmere coat, he had jet black hair, pock-marked face and in his late sixties. An air of casual power. An even larger man got out from the driver’s side. Muscle.
Norton said, ‘Mr Gant, this is Mitch.’
He put out his hand, we shook. He said,
‘I’ve heard a lot about you... Mitch.’
‘Mr Gant... I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you.’
He looked at Norton, then gave a huge laugh. One of those throw-your-head-back efforts, putting lots of teeth in it. Norton said,
‘Shall we go inside?’