by Edie Baylis
Some fellas’ missuses and wives nagged like harridans. Some blokes on his payroll; blokes who grown men were terrified to argue with or put a foot wrong around, their wives ruled them with a rod of iron. But he hadn’t had that problem with Lena. Until recently.
Jonah shovelled another forkful of chicken into his mouth, happy for the silence and watched Lena push her food around her plate as if the extra effort of using cutlery properly would damage her nail extensions. The nail extensions he paid for. And not just any old nail extensions – oh no – nail extensions from the top of the range beauticians in Liberty’s. No cheap shit for Lena.
It was also a bit like her hair extensions, lip-plumping injections and botox – even though she was only twenty-seven. Oh yes, and the countless amounts of designer clothes which rivalled the fucking ladieswear floor at Harrods.
But that was ok – that wasn’t the problem.
She was his bird – one of many – nothing serious. An easy, familiar and no hassle lay. He’d happily treat her to whatever she wanted – that was part and parcel of how a woman should be treated. And being as she was the one he was seen with most regularly, he didn’t want her looking less than her best, did he? That wouldn’t do anything for his reputation. Anyway, it wasn’t like he had any intention of marrying the girl.
He wouldn’t pretend he didn’t enjoy bedding her, along with many others, as an added bonus of inheriting the club in Soho as part of his father’s empire. He’d never disguised loving that added perk of his prominent position within the firm, but she had begun to be a bit of a pain in the arse where the club was concerned. No one had actually come out and said anything to him about it, but he’d heard the whispers and he’d have been blind and deaf not to have picked up on the atmosphere anytime she was around. And that was the problem.
Jonah slugged the beer straight from the bottle.
Admittedly, he’d been so wrapped up with the club and firm he hadn’t even noticed half the things Lena had been doing - like moving herself into his house six months ago. She used to stay over on a regular basis, but then she was there permanently. Most of the time it was good having the sex on tap, but he didn’t like how she’d started encroaching on all aspects of his life. Now she was getting people’s backs up at the club wasn’t a good sign and one which he’d have to keep a very close eye on.
‘Grab us another beer will you, babe?’ Jonah said, winking at Lena, watching her immediately get up and move towards the fridge. He needed a good few beers to take his mind off all the latest goings on.
This business with Dulcie Adams was playing on his mind something chronic and Saul’s attitude today to what should be done about it hadn’t helped.
During his visit earlier, his brother had made it very clear that he expected Dulcie Adams to be taken out and the firm’s property returned immediately. No ifs or buts. But Jonah didn’t work like that. For a start, Dulcie was a woman and he didn’t condone that sort of shit being laid on a female. He wanted answers.
Sure, he wanted the diamonds back and would get them, but he also, and probably more importantly, wanted to know what had possessed her to help rip off the man who had made her career.
Jonah knew all about Dulcie Adams’ popularity at the club in the 60s – she was a Soho sensation, thanks to The Feathers and then, at the height of her heyday, she’d decided to leave – citing her husband’s unfortunate death as the reason. But it wasn’t the reason was it? Dulcie Adams had known what her lover, Pointer, was planning and Jonah wanted the woman to know just how much her actions had hurt.
Jonah knew Saul wouldn’t understand his take on this, he never had. Jonah had no problem meting out violence, under the right circumstances, and sometimes not. Plus, he was extremely good at it. His ability had helped the firm remain in the position it was, but other things were important too.
He frowned. Saul was pure violence – always had been. The man had no ‘on/off’ switch, but he wasn’t here and he could ladle on as much shit as he wanted, but Jonah was doing things his way. He ran the firm, not Saul.
He looked up as Lena sashayed back across the room his eyes fixed on her pert backside encased in skin-tight jeans.
‘Can we get some extra help around the house, Jonah,’ Lena said, widening her heavily made up eyes. ‘I just don’t have the time to get the food preparation done these days, I seem to be constantly exhausted.’
Jonah bit back his retort. It wasn’t like she was rushed off her bloody feet. ‘What are you thinking of?’
‘Oh, I don’t know... Perhaps a cook? Someone to prepare the meals? Only part time though.’ Lena batted her false lashes. ‘We don’t want someone else here all the time now do we?’
Jonah took another swig of his beer, rather than laugh in Lena’s face. Cook the dinner? All she’d done was turn the fucking oven on. Was even that too difficult? She certainly hadn’t prepared anything because the food they were eating now was courtesy of Marks and Spencer’s pre-prepared meals range. He knew this because it was listed on his credit card - one of the many she maxed out on a regular basis. But he wouldn’t lose his temper. Women should have what they wanted. That’s what his father always said. Treat your women like gold, Jonah.
But Lena was demanding and it was starting to grate on his tits. ‘I’ll think about it, ok?’
Lena smiled, exposing her brilliant white veneers. ‘Thanks, babe.’
She placed Jonah’s fresh bottle of beer down onto the table and wrapped her arms around his thick neck from behind. When her fingers traced down his chest, he felt his groin twitch in anticipation.
‘What’s this?’ Lena’s hand rested on the papers in the chest pocket of Jonah’s shirt.
‘What’s what?’ Jonah mumbled, pushing his chair back and pulling Lena onto his lap.
Lena’s lips trailed across Jonah’s earlobe. ‘That wodge of paper in your pocket.’
‘Never you mind...’ Jonah undid the button of Lena’s jeans, his mind only intent on sating his growing arousal.
Lena pulled away, arching her eyebrows. ‘It had better not be something to do with another woman!’
Jonah tensed, irritation flashing. ‘If you must know, it’s a list of things I need to do,’ he lied. ‘Not that it’s any of your fucking business!’ He wasn’t discussing the notes Nero had given him about Helen Shepherd with Lena. He wouldn’t discuss anything about the Dulcie Adams business with her.
And since when had she been bothered about other women? Jonah felt a growl forming at the back of his throat. Maybe it was time to seriously rethink the situation where Lena was concerned. He would not take any hassle from a woman.
‘Sorry, babe,’ Lena purred, readjusting herself in Jonah’s lap. ‘I think I must be a bit hormonal today.’
As Lena straddled him, wiggling slightly, despite his annoyance, Jonah felt himself spring back into action. And when she set about slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt, followed by unzipping his trousers, he offered no resistance.
Standing up and lifting Lena with him, Jonah deposited her on the dining table. Unceremoniously pulling her jeans clean off the ends of her legs, he wrapped his hand in her thick hair extensions. Tugging her head back, his teeth nipped at her throat as he pushed into her with pent up frustration.
Six
THE REMAINDER OF THE DAY passed surprisingly quickly and without event. Teagan had made good inroads with a thorough clean of the kitchen whilst preparing the dinner. It had taken longer than expected because she’d wasted nearly an hour locating where everything was in the large kitchen, pantry and scullery, but having now reorganised everything in sensible locations, it would prove a lot easier from now on.
Dulcie had insisted they ate dinner together and so they’d engaged in some general chit chat - nothing more about the old days, which Teagan admitted she’d hoped Dulcie would return to, but she hadn’t dared bring up the subject, what with the earlier reaction over the husband.
She realised her question may have been horribly insensitive. What
if the husband had only recently died? What she’d said could have opened the wound. It may also explain Robert’s attitude if he’d recently lost his father.
Having now finished the washing up, Teagan decided to ask if there was anything Dulcie wanted. She was unsure what the etiquette was as she’d never had a live-in job before. Was she expected to keep Dulcie company in the evenings?
Making her way to the sitting room, Teagan heard the music again, the record player loud and found Dulcie staring out of the window into the darkness of the evening singing along to the music. Even with age her voice was beautiful and Teagan stood transfixed, unable to drag herself away from the melody and Dulcie’s voice. For a moment she envisaged the woman on stage in her heyday, dressed in the outfit from the photograph surrounded by a rapt audience.
She cautiously stepped from the doorway into the room and as the record drew to a close, the only sound was the clicking of the stylus as it stuck at the end of the now silent record.
Teagan was about to speak but without turning away from the window Dulcie beat her to it. ‘I love that song.’
Teagan moved closer. ‘You have a beautiful voice.’
Turning around, Dulcie smiled. ‘Thank you, my dear. It’s a bit crackly these days.’
‘Is there anything I can get you? Anything you need?’
Dulcie shuffled to a seat, picking up a strand of beads from the table. Sitting down, she let the beads fall through her fingers from one hand to the other. ‘You don’t have to babysit me.’
‘I... I guess I’m not sure what’s expected.’ Teagan looked down at her hands uncomfortably. ‘I’ve only previously done day care.’
Dulcie smiled, her blue eyes twinkling. ‘I’m well aware of that. I asked that woman – whatever she’s called, at your agency for someone who hadn’t done live-in work. That was my one and only demand.’
Teagan smiled, imagining Sheila’s horror to be referred to as a ‘whatever she’s called’. ‘I can assure you I’ve had plenty of experience wi...’
‘Yes, I know. I spoke to some of the other oldies you’ve looked after,’ Dulcie grinned. ‘You’ll be pleased to learn they all spoke highly of you.’ A knowing smile spread across Dulcie’s face. ‘If you’re wondering why I don’t want anyone with previous live-in experience, then I’ll tell you.’ She leaned forward conspiringly. ‘It’s because they’re set in their bloody ways, that’s why. They’d make me go to bed at 8 o’clock and drink hot chocolate.’
Getting up, Dulcie pulled down the front of a tall cabinet, exposing an array of different bottles. ‘And I don’t like hot chocolate!’ Looking over her shoulder, she grinned and raised a painted eyebrow. ‘But I do like gin!’ Holding up a bottle of Gordons, Dulcie laughed. ‘Lighten up, young lady! You’re too young to be so old. Care to join me?’
Teagan moved towards the drinks cabinet. ‘Only if you let me pour whilst you sit down?’
‘Done!’ Dulcie winked.
Pouring two measures of gin and topping the drinks up with a generous helping of tonic water, Teagan couldn’t help but think Helen and Robert would not be impressed if they discovered she was encouraging their mother to drink, but this lady fascinated her. She hadn’t been here a day, yet was already enthralled by Dulcie Adams. There was something about her; so full of life and aside from the couple of times that she’d drifted off into some kind of trance, she didn’t seem to be suffering from dementia. But she could hardly have an opinion of the woman’s mental state after a matter of hours? Neither was she in any way medically qualified, so it was best not to draw any conclusions.
Taking the drinks to the table, Teagan found Dulcie lighting a long, thin cigarette.
‘Another thing my children disapprove of. But this is my house, so I’ll do what I like!’ Dulcie quipped. ‘They’re only menthol and besides, if they were going to kill me, they’d have done so by now!’
‘Have you taken your vitamins? Helen asked me to remind you,’ Teagan said.
Dulcie rolled her eyes. ‘Bloody vitamins! Helen’s obsessed with them. Of course I have! I’d only get moaned at otherwise!’ She took the tall glass from Teagan’s hand. ‘Now, getting back to why you came in looking for me in the first place.’
Teagan sipped at her drink. ‘Ok, so do you prefer being left on your own of an evening or would you like me to keep you company? Also, tomorrow I thought I’d make a start cleaning things up? Robert said th...’
‘Take absolutely no notice of what Robert said,’ Dulcie snapped, her eyes bright. ‘That boy believes anything Helen says. I want nothing cleared or ‘tidied’. Do you understand? If you’ve come here to box my life up and throw it away then you can pack your bags right now, young lady.’
Teagan blinked, taken aback and fought to remain collected. ‘I...’
‘Look,’ Dulcie continued, her eyes softening. ‘I just need you to understand something very important. It’s a huge gamble, but I’ve got to give you a try. There’s something about you... something I can see...’
She pointed to her own eyes, a pink-nailed bony finger tapping precariously closely to her eyeball. ‘I get the feeling that you’re alright.’ She slowly put her glass down on the table. ‘My instincts are telling me that I like you and I hope I’m not wrong.’
Teagan swallowed a large gulp of gin. She didn’t for one minute know where this was going or why.
Dulcie picked up her glass again, sipped from it and blew a ring of minty-scented smoke towards the ceiling. ‘I hired you because I need someone on my side.’
Teagan frowned. ‘Your side?’
‘They won’t admit it, but I know my children are trying to get me shipped out of here,’ Dulcie frowned. ‘Helen especially. She’s slowly convincing everyone that I’m crazy.’ She raised an eyebrow, her piercing eyes drilling into Teagan’s. ‘I bet she’s already said something to you along those lines, has she not?’
Teagan shuffled uncomfortably. ‘Well, I... er...’
‘Just as I thought,’ Dulcie sighed. ‘It’s always the same. She won’t be happy until I get carted off. She’s even convinced Robert and that is worrying, considering he’s very much like his father.’
Teagan frowned. From what she’d deduced so far, Helen was the rational one; the caring one – unlike Robert.
Dulcie stared into the empty hearth. ‘Don’t let anyone fool you with this rubbish about me being madder than a box of frogs.’
Teagan nodded, her teeth playing with the inside of her cheek. She liked this lady and wanted to make her happy, but on the flip side, it was her job to make sure she was safe and well looked after, wasn’t it?
Although Dulcie had seemed very much clear headed, now Teagan was beginning to wonder because this was the first time that what Helen had said rang true.
TEAGAN LAY IN BED WIDE AWAKE. It was impossible to sleep. Ages she’d been lying here and was no closer to dropping off than she had been in the first place.
As well as the strange conversation this evening, being in a different house wasn’t helping. A big, old echoey house with its unique set of noises; every pipe clank, floorboard creak or crack as the receding heat of the day caused the wood to contract; every shuffle from above from nesting birds or squirrels in the eaves, played on her mind.
She’d get used to it she didn’t doubt, but tonight – this first night under this big old roof was playing havoc with her ability to switch off.
Teagan glanced at the small travel clock she’d brought with her. 2 am. Would Joe still be up?
Throwing back the heavy bedspread, Teagan grabbed her phone from the bedside table and moved to the window seat where she’d previously managed to get a signal of sorts. Opening her text messages she was disappointed to see nothing from Joe.
Oh well, she’d text and if he was up, she’d give him a call.
Are you still up? Can I call? Love you xx
Pressing send, Teagan waited to see if Joe would reply and willed the shaky one bar on the network indicator to hold, but several
minutes later, with still no reply, she sighed. Joe must be asleep, out or otherwise engaged.
Pushing away the slight hurt that he hadn’t texted her to say goodnight, Teagan reminded herself that she’d promised not to allow festering incriminations to form. She was doing this so they could be together. It was what they both wanted.
A sudden crash from downstairs shook Teagan from her thoughts. What the hell was that? That certainly wasn’t like any other noise she’d heard so far. Holding her breath, she listened intently to see if it happened again.
Nothing. Just silence.
What if Dulcie had got up to use the toilet and fallen? Or what if there was an intruder?
Heart beating frantically, Teagan jumped up from the window seat and pulled her dressing-gown over her pyjamas. She’d have to go and look. She couldn’t ignore that crash.
Opening her bedroom door, she peered cautiously down the landing of the top storey into the darkness. Feeling around for the light switch, she was glad when the creepy, seemingly endless corridor became illuminated. Get a grip of yourself, girl, she thought, padding along the landing to the staircase.
Dulcie’s bedroom was on the first floor, so she’d got another staircase to go down yet.
Reaching the bottom of the staircase, unable to find a light switch, she fumbled along that landing. As she neared the end of the corridor, she saw an open door which had been closed when she’d come to bed. Fear prickled. She stopped and listened, hearing nothing, but could see a faint illumination from inside the room. ‘Dulcie?’ Teagan said, her voice barely more than a whisper. ‘Mrs Adams?’
Teagan inched forward, peering around the edge of the doorway and adjusted her eyes to the dim light within the huge bedroom. Her focus was directed to the small figure by the large bay window looking through the open curtains.
‘Dulcie?’ Teagan said softly, unwilling to make the old lady jump. Getting no response, she stepped into the room. ‘Mrs Adams?’
Turning around suddenly, Dulcie stared at Teagan, her eyes unfocused. ‘I am not Mrs Adams!’
