by Lynda Renham
‘I don’t know what made him back out but Nathan says he is adamant. He’s agreed to meet me for dinner to discuss it on Friday but I don’t expect him to change his mind.’
‘Why don’t I come too,’ I say and bite my lip. I must have drunk too much. I’m feeling bold and reckless.
He looks thoughtful. God, he is sexy, I cannot believe that ex-girlfriend of his let him slip through her fingers but then of course I barely know William Ellis. He slides his hand from beneath mine and removes his tie throwing it onto the table. Ooh, I’m definitely up for a game of strip poker if that’s what he’s doing.
‘The thing is …’ he stops.
Stupid me, how could I have been so silly. He is obviously taking Andrea isn’t he? Let’s face it if you want a woman on your arm, she’s most certainly the one.
‘It’s fine,’ I say quickly. ‘It was a stupid suggestion. Obviously you’re …’
‘No, it might be a good idea. The thing is I’ve always gone to these things alone. But Roche, the investor, is a family man so it might look good to have woman with me. Nathan …’
‘Does he have to be there?’ I interrupt. ‘Do you even need to tell Nathan?’ I add cautiously, knowing how much William trusts him. Personally I wouldn’t touch him with a bargepole.
‘Roche has made it quite clear that no one else from the company is to be there, so it might be best not to mention it to Nathan.’
God, it’s bloody hot in here again. I slip off my cardigan.
‘We need to get this heating sorted,’ he smiles, rolling up his shirt sleeves.
The strap of my smock top slips slightly and he stares blatantly at my bare shoulder.
‘We’ll be eating dinner naked at this rate,’ he laughs, his eyes twinkling.
I blush. I know I should pull the strap back but somehow I can’t bring myself to.
‘I was in sales,’ I say, ‘and I understand a little about business. If I can look at the background I may be able to help.’
He grins.
‘I’ll give you access to everything I have,’ he says, relaxing back into his chair.
Oh yes please.
‘In fact, why don’t I show you all I have tonight?’
Oh my God, he is seriously flirting with me.
‘Obviously the sooner I see all you have the better,’ I say, openly flirting back.
I look at him over the rim of my glass. His eyes meet mine and hold them for a second before he drops them and says,
‘I’m sorry about the comment earlier. I think Oliver was mad to do what he did.’
‘You do?’ I say softly.
He nods and stretches his hand to touch mine.
‘I’ve drunk far too much and am in serious danger of making a pass at you, and that’s the last thing I want to do.’
That’s bloody great isn’t it? Maybe I am like an anorexic in reverse. When I look in the mirror I see a reasonably attractive woman that someone would like to make a pass at when in reality I am one big turn off. I do get through a lot of M&Ms and they’ve got to end up somewhere. I bet they’ve all gone to my arse. It most likely looks like one big M&M but as I can’t see it I wouldn’t know would I? That’s the problem with your bum isn’t it, it’s impossible to see, but the truth is there must be something wrong with me sexually. Let’s face it, Oliver couldn’t do it with me unless I wore a stupid sailor outfit and cooed arr, tie me to the rigging Cap’n. Then when we finally did get going I’d need my vibrator and for some reason Oliver always got defensive, like I was insinuating he wasn’t good enough. Like making me wear a sailor hat and crotchless shorts isn’t saying the same thing? So, we then have this mammoth vibrator search while Oliver does all kinds of things to keep the erection going, like my exciting body isn’t enough to keep it up. By the time I do find it, the bedroom floor is littered with my undies and God knows what, and then the bloody thing doesn’t work because one of the batteries is missing. I finally give up and fake an orgasm so Oliver doesn’t say,
‘It comes to something when I get replaced by a bloody vibrator.’
Why can’t he just accept me for little old me is what I want to know? Okay, maybe my backside does looks like a giant M&M and I really should weigh myself, especially after I’ve scoffed my way through a bag of out of date chocolate penises. Still mustn’t complain, at least I’m getting some penis. I take a gulp of wine. That’s another thirty calories. I can’t win.
‘I know you’ve only been here a couple of weeks but I really like having you here, I don’t want to blow a good friendship by doing something stupid,’ William says, pulling me out of my reverie. ‘Besides you’ve just been proposed to.’
A good friendship, is he serious? All we’ve done so far is insult each other.
‘Right,’ I say, picking up the dishes. ‘I’m not sure whether to be insulted or flattered.’
I pull the strap back onto my shoulder and stack the dishwasher. I suppose it would be pointless to suggest a game of strip poker now wouldn’t it?
‘Binki,’ he whispers, ‘you should be flattered.’
I feel his warm breath on my neck and shiver, my desire for him so strong that my hands tremble. He kisses me gently on the cheek and a multitude of emotions consume me. The fresh smell of him combined with the whisky intoxicates me. I’m his for the taking.
‘Friends,’ he murmurs into my ear.
I nod and turn to the dishwasher.
‘Are you going to forgive Oliver?’ he asks, handing me my glass.
Perhaps I should forgive him. Maybe it wasn’t his fault. Maybe it was my fault for not being exciting enough or for being Binki, not the best shag in town. Why does everything sound like a porn movie with me? Even Binki of the Caribbean with the stripy tights and the anchor motif has a porno sound about it. But there is nothing porno about me, I can’t even find a vibrator without wrecking the bedroom in the process. Even the search for the batteries would totally deflate his erection. There’s a limit to how long you can keep it up isn’t there? I wasn’t that great in the kitchen either. My idea of an impressive meal was a bowl of pasta with a Jamie Oliver sauce thrown over it. I never greeted him sexily in the mornings either. I should have worn my silk robe more and clipped my hair up sexily but instead I’d wander in wearing my terry towelling dressing gown with my hair sticking up and last night’s mascara smeared across my face. Seriously, can anyone blame him humping Amanda Rowland, especially if there was a promotion in it for him? I need to make more of an effort. I’m sure we’ve got the Kama Sutra somewhere. That should liven things up. I’d better do something about my inner core muscles though, or I’ll never take the strain. Then again I’m not sure Oliver’s back can take the strain either. Oh this is just awful, only a few days before Christmas I was dreaming about my fairy-tale wedding and planning the invitations in my head. I’d imagined Olly and me huddled on the couch with old Christmas films playing on the television as we’d looked through the designs together. I was expecting an engagement ring on Christmas Eve and not the sight of Amanda Rowland doing gymnastics on my boyfriend’s cock.
‘Do you think I should?’ I ask William.
‘That has to be your decision. I’ll get the Optimun papers for you. Good bedtime reading,’ he grins.
William walks unsteadily from the room. I finish my wine, put the glass carefully into the dishwasher and turn to find William standing right behind me. He gently slides the strap of the top off my shoulder. I shudder.
‘It looks better that way,’ he says softly.
He places a pile of papers on the table and picks up the wine bottle.
‘I’m off to bed before I do something very stupid. And no matter what Oliver says or did, you’re one very sexy woman Binki Grayson. I always speak the truth when I’m drunk. I shall now take my drunken self to bed.’
He turns at the door.
‘We’re still on for Friday dinner?’
I nod. He grins and closes the door behind him. I’m one very sexy woman I repea
t to myself. Well, that’s something to celebrate with an M&M isn’t it? I lift the lid from the chocolate teapot and see the builders have replaced my stash. I smile, throw a handful into my mouth and make a decision to phone Oliver in the morning. Maybe it is time to talk things over like adults and I don’t mean in the manner of an adult movie, although maybe that would not be such a bad idea.
Chapter Twenty-Four
A loud drilling in my head wakes me with such a start that I almost tumble out of bed. Christ, what is that noise … Is my head exploding or something? The room is like an icebox. I shiver and pull the duvet over me and see the scattered papers on my bed. I check the time on my Blackberry and curse. It’s nearly ten. I’ve two missed calls and two texts. I struggle to get my brain into gear and then the memory of William’s words, his whisky drinking and the almost kiss comes back to me and the discovery I’d made when going through his papers last night on the investment deal with Roche. I scramble to get the papers together. The drilling is even louder now and it isn’t in my head. I can’t believe how cold it is. We’ve gone from the Sahara Desert to Scott Base in the Antarctic. It’s all extremes in this house. I must have been reading William’s papers until three this morning and I still couldn’t make anything add up. I’m no accountant but I’ve done a few figures during my time in sales and something about the figures in these papers seems wrong. At first I thought William was on the fiddle, but surely he wouldn’t have shown me the figures if he was, unless he thought I would never understand them. I didn’t understand everything and the deal seemed pretty straightforward, it was the other papers that William had obviously given me in error that didn’t make sense. Mixed in with the papers was William’s accounts ledger. I wouldn’t have taken too much notice but I was stunned to see just how well William’s business was doing. I found myself glancing at the entries. It was then I noticed something strange. Quite a few expense claims were repeated. For example, there was an entry for expenses for Nathan for hotel accommodation in Japan and another entry for the flights, but the same entry was repeated a few days later. Surely it would have been sensible for Nathan to have stayed in Japan rather than spend all that money returning a few days later, but the strange thing was another claim for a taxi fare from Tokyo to Kawasaki on the day before the second flight, and even I know that Tokyo is in Japan and unless Nathan is superman he couldn’t be in London one minute and riding in a taxi in Tokyo the next. I really should return the accounts to William. I’m sure I wasn’t meant to see them. He was after all somewhat pissed last night, gorgeously pissed I must admit. I pull my mind from the memory of his hand on my shoulder. How do I approach William? I can’t accuse Nathan of swindling can I? Although I don’t trust the guy and surely William checks the accounts himself. He obviously didn’t mean for me to see them, but the thing is I have. My head spins with my thoughts and when my phone buzzes I grab it gratefully.
‘Binki, it’s me,’ says Oliver, sounding pained.
I can hear the clicking of computer keys and laughter in the background.
‘Have you given my … well, have you thought things over?’ he says in a low tone.
Oh dear, I’ve barely given it a thought if I’m honest.
‘It’s a lot to think about Oliver.’
‘Of course it is,’ he hisses, ‘that’s why I imagined you may have been up most of the night thinking about it. It’s one of the most important decisions of your life.’
It certainly is. So I’m not going to make it while half-pissed am I?
‘It’s just the children I’ve been thinking about,’ I say, draping a woollen shawl over the jumper. What’s wrong with this heating? I’m normally walking around in a bikini.
There is silence apart from the clacking of keys and the ringing of phones in the background.
‘Whose children, and what have they got to do with us?’ Oliver asks finally.
‘Our children, how do I explain your ball-balancing tricks with your boss and the late nights at the office?’
He exhales so loudly down the phone that I think he may burst out through the mouthpiece like some horror film character.
‘We should talk. I’m taking my parents out tonight and I’ve got to close a deal with a client tomorrow. I’ll book a table at Romeo’s for Friday, say about eight?’
Oh dear, he would have to say Friday wouldn’t he.
‘How about Saturday?’ I suggest, pulling on another pair of socks. I’m starting to think a whole family of poltergeists have moved in. I watch my breath condense in front of my eyes.
‘They’re always packed on a Saturday, you know that. How can we have a quiet talk?’
My teeth are now starting to chatter.
‘I can’t make Friday,’ I say.
He groans.
‘I suppose you’re doing a shift in that disgusting s … shop aren’t you?’
‘You can say the word Oliver,’ I sigh. ‘But no I’m not doing an extra stint in the s shop.’
‘Not in the bloody office I can’t.’
‘Oh no, you can’t say it but you can sure hint at it between you and your boss can’t you?’
‘Don’t start that again. So why can’t you make Friday?’
Well, firstly if I don’t do something about this bloody heating I’ll be dead by Friday.
‘I’m having dinner with William …’
‘What?’ he bellows. ‘I knew it. Your parents said I shouldn’t allow you to stay there alone with him.’
‘I’m thirty years old Oliver and amazingly neither you nor my parents can tell me who I can be alone with. I’m having dinner with him and one of his clients, I’m just helping out,’ I say shivering for all I’m worth.
‘Why can’t we do Saturday evening?’ I offer.
God, all these meals out I’m having. I’ll end up the size of a small bungalow.
‘Well I suppose it will have to do then,’ he grumbles.
‘I have to go before I develop hypothermia.’
‘What …’
I hang up, pull my coat from the wardrobe and looking like Mr Blobby race downstairs to find the source of the noise, and almost go flying over a toolbox on the kitchen floor.
‘Sorry Mrs Ellis, I’ll get that out of your way in a jiffy,’ says a middle-aged man in dungarees. ‘Been a bit of a bugger this has. I’m gonna have to get you a new one. I did tell Mr Ellis it may take the best part of the day. Couldn’t have picked the worst time of year could you?’
The back door swings open and Andy strolls in. He takes one look at me, fights back a smile and says,
‘Okay to make tea, only John here hasn’t had one yet. He’s replacing the boiler. That will make things better, less of a sauna in here. I said to John here, you and Mr Ellis don’t need much to get yourselves heated up in this house.’
He roars with laughter while I stare deadpanned at him. I bloody hate builders. I didn’t before but then I had never met any until now.
‘Please help yourselves,’ I say sweetly. ‘After all, you normally do.’
‘Right, thanks Mrs Ellis, oh by the way Mr Ellis said as there is no heating he will work at the Wharf.’
Well that was kind of him to tell me wasn’t it?
‘Okay to take a biscuit?’ asks Andy.
I fight back a sigh.
‘Feel free, watch some telly if you like, make yourselves at home and put on a DVD.’
Another builder enters and gives Andy a knowing look. If they think they can help themselves to my M&Ms they can think again.
‘Yeah, talking of DVDs Mrs Ellis…’
‘I’m not …’ I begin but think better of it.
Andy scratches his cheek, and says,
‘Steve ‘ere, said his son saw you in that shop, you know, the adult one …’ he hesitates. God, I think I preferred it when they were after my M&Ms.
‘Well, we were wondering about the DVDs like, whether they can be borrowed by friends and family.’
Friends, family and builders you mea
n. I don’t believe I’m hearing this.
‘Sadly Andy, drinking our tea and eating our biscuits, and of course my M&Ms, doesn’t quite make you family,’
Fortunately my phone rings and I grab the chocolate teapot and make a quick exit.
‘Hi doll, I was wondering can I swap shifts with you. My mate has got tickets for the Zodiac club tomorrow night. Can I do your shift this avo and you do mine tomorrow.’
‘I was hoping to get warmed up later,’ I say.
‘Blimey babe, I didn’t know those films did that much for you,’ laughs Luther.
It occurs to me that this would be the perfect opportunity to pop to William’s London office. There may be a good chance that Nathan won’t be there and maybe I could snoop around a bit on the pretext of wanting to find out all I can about Roche before our dinner on Friday.
‘That’s great Luther. I’ve got some things I need to do today anyway.’
*
I decide not to put Kandy through the manic journey to Canary Wharf and get the underground instead. It was not one of my best decisions. I spend the entire tube journey standing squashed against a pole with a man pressed up against my arse. Maybe that is some women’s dream journey but I’m not quite that desperate. I can’t believe how my life has changed since Christmas Eve. There I was one minute the soon-to-be fiancée of Oliver Weber, successful surveyor with a promotion just around the corner. Of course we all now know that Oliver had a lot more than a promotion around the corner don’t we? I was a proud tenant of one of the most sought-after flats in Notting Hill and I had a good and respectable job as senior sales assistant for one of the biggest advertising companies in London. Everything was going swimmingly. And then poof, bloody Christmas arrives with vicious spiky Christmas trees, a randy boss, the devil incarnate, disguised as a traffic warden, and an out of control boyfriend; a nightmare Christmas if ever there was one. I push through rotating doors into the plush interior of the Canary Wharf office block and am met by a very friendly doorman.
