And that particular morning, she certainly had enough thoughts whirling around her head to warrant a time-out. She had no trouble sleeping the night before, even after the trouble with Ben and taking two clients yesterday, but she did feel exhausted still.
Also, she had a new client to meet today, Mr Smith, recommended to her by a previous client, and this was always something that made her nervous. New clients put Natalie out of her comfort zone. Some clients are into some disturbing stuff, but she learnt to deal with the special requirements from each of them. There is always a risk that someone new may just be that bit too bizarre, too dangerous, or even just not discreet enough. But the bottom line was, as always, the bottom line. Also, the fact that clients didn’t always come back, due to lack of cash flow, finding love elsewhere or whatever, meant that Natalie had to keep her ‘doors open’, so to speak.
The day before, her situation had changed, or it could be changing very soon, and she had to take back some control, so she called Mr Smith and had arranged a little get-together late in the morning.
She was snapped out of her deep thought by the sound of the post being forced through the letterbox. She collected them from the doormat, returned to the table and began to go through the mail, which started out as the normal assortment that one might expect; a bill here, a bill there, an advertisement made to look like something you need to open up and read as a matter of urgency, then finally, a crisp, white envelope addressed to Mr Benjamin Green, from a soliciting firm in the city.
She felt her stomach tighten.
Was he selling the house? Was he getting advice on how to throw her onto the street? Why was Ben getting a letter from a solicitor she didn’t even know he had? How quick had he reacted to her indiscretions?
Her blood began to boil.
What the fuck was he up to?
She put the letters onto the table and took the last drag on her cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray and draining the rest of her coffee. She stood, put the ashtray on the kitchen windowsill and rinsed the cup in the sink, flipping it upside down and placing it on the draining board. Grabbing the tea-towel and drying her hands, she turned around and stared at the letter to Ben.
She sat back down, picked it up and without another thought, opened it to discover what her boyfriend was up to. Reading through it, the emotion she felt inside changed rather rapidly. She was no longer angry, nor confused. The letter had not been bad news at all.
Well, not bad news for Ben.
Two months after the death of his father, Ben had finally received a letter from Mr Green’s solicitor, informing Ben of the sum of money left to him in the will. The money was now ready for transfer, upon presentation of this letter, bank account details, photographic identification and proof of address at the law firm’s office in town.
Nine hundred and fifty thousand pounds.
Ben was just about to receive nearly one million pounds, and Natalie had just been caught betraying his trust in an awful manner in the home they shared. She felt an ache at the pit of her stomach, stood, rushed to the sink and vomited.
Natalie wiped the perspiration from her forehead then ran the cold tap and took a sip before wetting her hands and dabbing them onto her face and neck. Slowly she regained her composure and stopped the running water. She looked at the opened letter sat on the table, then over to her bags that were packed and ready to go by the front door.
Suddenly, she moved with intent.
Ben’s letter was put back in the envelope and hidden at the bottom of one of the kitchen drawers. She then headed straight for her bags, took them to the bedroom and unpacked them. The bags were then put back out of view, as if yesterday’s planned evacuation had never happened.
Back in the kitchen, she took the phone and dialled Ben’s number. The call was forwarded to voice mail, she left no message.
How things change in a day, she thought.
The morning was moving on faster than she would have liked. She checked her watch and knew she should start preparing herself, to give the best impression to Mr Smith in the next couple of hours.
There was a chance she would never have to sell her body again, not that she could guarantee her monogamy, but a financial independence where she could choose which men to sleep with regards to attraction to their looks and not their money, this excited her almost as much as sex itself.
She needed to get through the Mr Smith rendezvous, then concentrate on sorting out her relationship with Ben, and ultimately, find a way of making his money hers.
19
Ben picked up his phone, expecting it to be Natalie again, but this time it was his mother. He pushed the ‘reject call’ button, laid back on the bed and watched as Eve got dressed. She avoided the gothic style today, dressing with an air of elegance that he preferred.
Mrs Green held a glass of red wine in one hand and a phone to her ear with the other; she took a gulp of wine then set it down on the table. The call went through to the answer machine.
BEEP
‘Benjamin, please don’t ignore my phone calls. I know you are going through a difficult time, coming to terms with, well, you know what. But, this is part of who you are. I was surprised it took so long to arrive if I’m honest. You’ve always been a little lost, you know it, always looking for something more. Come and see me, we’ll talk this through, and I’ll answer all the questions that I’m sure you have.’
She hung up the phone, swapped it for the glass of wine and gulped down the rest of its contents, just as some movement caught her eye out in the garden. She marched over to the back door, stepped out and threw the empty wine glass towards the cat, yelling obscenities as she did so. The cat got lucky, and darted to safety at the far end of the garden and up a tree.
Mrs Green went back inside and calmly closed the door behind her, humming a cheerful song as she walked back to the table and lifted a tin of paint from a plastic bag. She gave a smile as she regarded the label with the name and colour of the paint on the side, ‘Devil Red’. Left in the bag were some brushes and a rolling kit, along with the receipt showing her loyalty points from the purchases.
Taking her decorating products to Graham’s office, she looked out of the kitchen window into the garden and saw that the cat was back.
‘You fucking pest,’ she yelled, and spat at the window.
20
Ben had locked himself in Eve’s bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, staring thoughtfully at his reflection. This was the face of a killer, the face of a mad-man. But this was him, this was Ben, it couldn’t be.
Ben had always been polite and wary of his p’s and q’s, and always tried to put other people’s feelings into his thought process when making decisions.
But, of course, he was no saint either. He had grown up in the city and been involved in the occasional row, he had gotten angry at certain car drivers who didn’t follow the rules of the road, or those of the public who were just plain rude and pushed in on queues or didn’t say thank you when you helped them or let them pass by.
But that was normal, wasn’t it? Even if it wasn’t, Ben always had his father to lean back on.
His dad was the calming influence in his life, the one who taught Ben to respect nature, the man who taught Ben to help other’s before helping himself, the person who taught him that learning to forgive made you more of a man than someone who carried a grudge, and even worse, someone who acted on that grudge.