He's not expecting much from the trip. One boring meeting after another. If he's lucky, they might sign the contract this time. More likely he'll have to come back a couple of times while they prevaricate and demand more details, extra costings, more projections.But he's a professional. And a professional keeps smiling as long as it's needed to get the job done.A drink....Then an early night with a good book, or maybe a movie.In the lounge, discreet music plays. A fire burns in the hearth. A pleasant environment."What can I get you, sir?" "Malt on the rocks, please."A bottle. The clink of ice cubes and the glass slides across to him. He sips, inhaling the vapours and feeling the chill burn hit the back of his throat.That's good....He tugs his tie open, undoes the top button of his shirt, then perching a hip onto a stool, turns to survey the room.At the other end of the bar is a woman. Pale silk and paler skin are crowned by auburn hair which highlights gol
MICHAEL"Can you keep Charlotte occupied, so she doesn't think too hard about me not being around."James chuckles. "Of course. What have you told her?""That I'm going to be at a trade fair for a couple of days. I made it sound as boring as possible.""Great. I'll call you when I know something.""See you in a couple of days."*****I pull up, check the address, then park up.I chose early evening to arrive. It seemed the best time to reliably catch whoever was at home. Sure enough, windows are lit in several parts of the house.I check I have everything on me I intended, then take a couple of deep breaths....Here goes....Strolling up the path, I knock on the door. After a few moments, a light flicks on behind the door and it opens.I'm looking into the face of a man about my height, although much more lightly built and perhaps in his mid-fifties.Which one are you?"Hello, Mr Kimberley?""I'm David Kimberley, yes. Is it me you want? Or my brother, Step
Dear Davey, Stevie and Dad,I'm not sure if any of my other letters to you have reached you because I've not heard anything back from you. I don't really know where to begin except to say that I'm sorry that I left the way I did, and I wish I'd done it some other way. I hope that you're not still too mad at me. If you have had my other letters and you are still angry with me, please forgive me.And especially, I wanted to apologise that I stole your wallets. I have enclosed a money order for the amount I took. I sent it with the other letters too, but it was never cashed. I hope that makes it right.I'm doing fine now and I'm earning well. I have my own apartment. It's only a small one that I'm renting, but I'm saving up to buy my own place. If you are in the City at all, you could visit me. Or if you like, I could visit you. I'd love to come and see you.How are you all? How is Dad these days? Better, I hope? I miss him. I miss all of you.I'll keep this short now, but i
"So, what do you think?" Conners puts three beers down, slopping froth over a corner of the rolled-out site plan, then sits and takes a long draft from his glass."I'm interested," I say. "Very much so." He nods as I speak, downing more of his beer. Bech watches in that pressed-mouth silent way of his, his drink untouched. "However, there are a number of considerations and I need time to think."Conners nods. "Of course."I tap the plan. "Can I keep this?""Absolutely. That's your copy. In fact..." He turns to pick up the cardboard tube he has leaning against the table, opens it and extracts another document.... "... I made a spare copy for you, so you have a master and one you can work with...."Efficient...Delivers what's needed. Not just what's asked for.Conners finishes his beer. "Suppose I leave you with it for a couple of days to think it through. You can call me if you have any queries and you'll find my fax number on my card...." He pushes a business card across
MICHAELLeaning back again the wall of the gym, arms folded, I watch Charlotte's demonstration.James, hands in pockets, watches too. "That's a lot of pink lycra," he comments."They're not just here to get fit and beautiful. They're here to be seen.""Who by?""Each other.""Mmmm...." He sucks in his cheeks.Charlotte's volunteer is the husband of one of her class members. Plucked from the group of men waiting to collect their wives at the end of the class, facing her, he looks uneasy. The other husbands watch from the side-lines."This is a basic move you can use," she's saying. "It's easy to remember and it works with your instincts."She cues her 'assailant' with a 'come-get-me' gesture. A bit uncertainly, he steps forward, arms outstretched, to be met by the heel of Charlotte's hand punching forward to his face. He lurches back, and if he had not been an innocent volunteer, would I'm sure, have been disabled by the follow-up kick towards his groin.Some of the
MICHAELI push the last barrow of briars onto the bonfire just in time to see Sally appear bearing beer and a plate of rolls. "Perfect timing, Sal. Thanks." She nods and goes back indoors. I call across the garden. "Time to take a break."Ben draws an arm across his forehead. "Sounds good to me." Then he tilts his head back, sniffing. "And it smells better." Scruffy, lead contender for 'World's Ugliest Dog', yaps agreement.Placing the plate of sandwiches up out of Scruffy's reach, I pass Ben a can then crack open my own, taking a seat on an old tree-stump.He joins me, sitting on a rusted oil-can that emerged from under the brambles. Scruffy skips around my feet, first trying to communicate his interest in the sandwiches then, when I don't take the hint, settles by me wearing a disgusted expression.The rolls come from the 'Sally School of Giant Eating'; vast edifices that take two hands to hold and careful concentration to eat. Ben chews appreciatively. "Hmmm... what is it
Bech marks out an area on the top storey of the main building.... ".... And if we build internal walls here and here, we'll be able to separate the men from the women and keep the minors in their own area." He grinds to a halt, looking up to see my reaction."You've thought this through, Bech. You'll be trying to take the lead yourself next...."His laugh is desert-dry, devoid of humour. "I'm a tactician, sir. It needs a strategist at the head of an organisation. My talents are best fitted to back-room support. You provide the.... vision.... I'll move the pieces around the board. Or see that they are moved."All true...."Talking of strategy," I say, "It seems to me that the unrest around East Africa and Somalia ought to provide some opportunities. Do we have anyone over there?""Nooo... Not as such." Bech rubs his chin, his eyes unfocusing. "But the authorities over there are all corrupt as hell. It shouldn't take me long to find someone helpful.""Someone who will remain
From a cafe across the road Mitch, wearing jeans and tee-shirt, her eyes red and swollen in a face stripped of make-up, watches.The wedding party arrives, the car long and low and black, decked in ribbons, pulling up at the front steps. The bride steps out. Mitch doesn't know her. Dressed in a pale lilac two-piece suit, the woman stands very upright, directing Al to the door, her air crisp and efficient.More cars pull up behind. Her brothers step out of one. In dark suits and tall hats, they look so smart. Stephen follows the bridal couple inside. David lingers, looking right and left, then also makes his way inside.Another couple steps out, a little girl toddling with them. Her thatch of brilliant orange hair clashes violently with her lilac bridesmaid's dress.*****"You alright, Mitch?" Angelo pauses from his eternal polishing of glasses, examining her. Unusually, her makeup is heavy, almost plastered into place. "You look as though you have a cold coming on or somethin