Revenge

by Bill Ward

  He had asked a few questions about the films Melanie had appeared in and was surprised how down to earth she was. She didn’t take her film roles very seriously, pointing out that they were never likely to win her an Oscar, although she lived in hope. They did however earn her millions and she was quite happy with that trade off. Tom had imagined a superstar actress to be somewhat different. When asked, he identified his favourite movie as The Cincinnati Kid and laughed at her rebuke that he hadn’t chosen any of her films. She hadn’t seen or even heard of the film but he explained it was the story of a poker player, a passion he shared. It starred Steve McQueen who she did know and having been released in 1965, she pointed out she wasn’t even born then. Her choice was Gone with the Wind. She admitted to being a romantic at heart and wished she could have played a lead role in such an epic. Tom told her he thought she would make a great Scarlett O’Hara. He was pleased he had seen a few of her films and could say he had genuinely enjoyed them. Conversation flowed freely with the champagne and Melanie made him laugh hysterically with her impression of a cockney but he wasn’t entirely surprised she didn’t get the part in the remake of My Fair Lady.

  They had talked a little about their childhoods and parents. Melanie had been unequivocal about how great her parents had been and how much she missed them. They had worked hard to give her everything possible when she was growing up and she had nothing but positive memories. Dad had been an accountant and mum worked in a library. Her Dad may have taught her how to use guns but it was her mum who introduced her to literature and drove her twice a week to the drama classes that would eventually lead to her future career.

  Tom had described his own childhood with less enthusiasm but he recognized it could have been a lot worse and in their own way his parents had also done their best for him. When explaining why he travelled so much with the army, his father had taught him that you couldn’t just ignore people in trouble, whether it was a country or an individual. That had stayed with him and was probably subconsciously the reason why he intervened to help Melanie, when he knew many others would simply have called the police and stayed hidden behind that car.

  At some point, Melanie admitted to never having really been very close to getting married but was still hopeful, as she did want to have kids. That, as it always did, had struck a bit of a raw nerve with Tom and he’d explained about Alex. They had married in their early twenties and been madly in love but by the time they reached thirty they had drifted apart. She was a thrusting barrister working all hours and committed to her career. Alex worried about how to win her next case. He worried who was going to win the three thirty at Ascot.

  Tom wanted children but it was never the right time for Alex. One day, in the face of his pleading that it was the only hope for their marriage, she had agreed to stop taking the pill. She wasn’t desperate to have a child but was willing, for his sake, to accept pregnancy if it happened naturally. Their lovemaking had lost its spontaneity years before and usually occurred after a couple of bottles of wine but he’d made a concentrated effort for a few months and their sex life improved although she didn’t conceive. He wasn’t too concerned as he knew it could easily take a year or more but when he found the packet of pills in her bedside draw, he didn’t even bother saying anything. He presumed she wanted him to find them, so he took the hint and their sex life gradually went back to the old routine. Alex began having to stay more nights in London for important cases and less than twelve months later she announced she was leaving him. He wasn’t surprised to later find that she had been having an affair with someone at work for a considerable time.

  Despite Tom’s initial protestations there were no tears. It had all been terribly civilized and they quickly reached an amicable agreement on sharing what they’d accumulated together over ten years. A sad indictment of two people living separate lives under the same roof. They had little in common and thus nothing to dispute the ownership of, not even their CD collection. Their music tastes were completely different. He was a fan of heavy rock and opera. She liked everything else.

  Ten years on from Alex and there was still no sign of anyone special on the horizon. In fact the longer he went without a serious relationship the less important having one seemed to be. He enjoyed female company and there had been a succession of brief affairs but nothing serious.

  He and a friend had tried speed dating in a hotel in Brighton one time. Actually they more stumbled across it when out for a drink. A woman approached them in the hotel bar and asked if they would like to join in as there had been a shortage of men turn up to the event. The woman who was organizing the event saw they were uncertain so offered to buy them a drink if they would take part and never the types to refuse a free drink they had accepted. The woman buying the drinks had been quite attractive and so Tom had made the incorrect assumption the women looking for dates would be the same. He had found it very strange that you had just three minutes with each girl. After explaining for the fourth time what he did to an uninterested female sitting across the table, he had realized speed dating wasn’t something he would try again anytime soon. He announced he was going to the toilet but instead headed straight for the exit. His friend had seen him leave and quickly followed. He recounted the story to Melanie which made her laugh.

  Melanie told Tom how quite early on in her career she recognised that she was in an industry where relationships are notoriously difficult to maintain given that you could spend months apart on film sets. Her famous friends had consistently proved her right. As she was an old fashioned girl at heart and only wanted to walk down the aisle once, she admitted she couldn’t see herself ever marrying an actor, preferring to go out with someone sane as she put it! The problem was that she spent ninety per cent of her time with actors and rarely met anyone remotely normal.

  There was no shortage of dates however, and when challenged she coyly admitted that flings with her leading men were not entirely uncommon, although not as frequent as reported in the press. After all what was a woman to do by herself for weeks on end on a film set in the middle of nowhere. Then she’d added that someone needed to invent batteries that lasted a lot longer and they’d both laughed noisily enough to attract the attention of nearby diners. He was pleasantly surprised by how at ease Melanie seemed to be in his company. She seemed most unlike a Hollywood star. There was no arrogance and no hint of being a diva. She was pleasant to all the staff and smiled warmly in response to the couple who approached the table and asked for her autograph. She seemed a very nice human being and he felt a tinge of guilt that he had ever thought she might be anything less.

  The subject had changed to work although Tom refused at first to recognise that what Melanie did was work! She had been quick to point out that twelve-hour days in a jungle full of creepy crawlies did indeed constitute work, especially as the biggest creep had been her leading man. Tom explained that he owned a betting shop, which was not making much money because of the trend towards Internet betting. That of course was only half the truth because even when the shop did make money, he usually managed to lose it at the casino. She imagined that a betting shop would be a license to print money, as she had never won anything when she very occasionally went racing. He suggested that he would take her one day and she agreed that would be fun.

  Melanie described her sporting passion as football which caused confusion for one moment until Tom realised what she meant and pointed out she was referring to American football not football. Tom enjoyed watching what they agreed to call Soccer to save confusion but had never followed any one specific team, although recently he had made a few trips to the new Amex stadium to see Brighton play. Tom was mostly a fan of the big tournaments when he would avidly watch England play. Melanie seemed surprised to learn the USA had a half decent soccer team and several Americans played in the Premier League.

  Melanie’s football team was the Pittsburgh Steelers. She had gone regularly with her Dad when she was young and still went whenever filming commitmen
ts allowed. Tom had watched a few games on television over the years but never been to a live game, which news was immediately met with an invitation to see a match from Melanie’s private box. She also offered to take him to the Super Bowl if they made it to the final, which she assured Tom was a real possibility. Tom wasn’t a great fan of what he’d seen on television, as he didn’t like the start / stop nature of the games but a trip to a Super Bowl would be a great sporting occasion. He liked the way Melanie became animated and excited about her team. Tom felt the same way about going to Cheltenham or Royal Ascot.

  Melanie had refused to hear of him staying anywhere other than the Imperial and he found it difficult to argue with her logic, especially after the vintage port, that it would be nice to have breakfast together. For a second he had kept a straight face and then Melanie had realized what she’d said and looked a little aghast at the idea. This in turn prompted Tom to mock her for making the idea of sleeping with Quasimodo seem so horrific and they had both fallen in to a further bout of laughter.

  Melanie had organized the suite and asked for it to be added to her account. On reflection Tom thought it was not unreasonable that she should be paying for the whole evening, though it was an unusual experience. He didn’t feel there was any sense of his abusing her hospitality or taking advantage of the fact he’d helped her out. She was a fantastically wealthy woman and wanted to say thank you, so he would graciously accept and in a day or two life would go back to normal and Melanie would no doubt return to the States.

  The alarm call that awoke him had been ordered for eight o’clock, which Melanie had suggested was a bit early but he had pointed out he really did have to get into his shop today, to check the staff hadn’t run off with his money. He wasn’t serious of course but it was unfair to leave Ben shorthanded for another day, even if some of the meetings were getting cancelled because of the weather. Melanie was going to meet with the press, whom she had so far kept at arm’s length but they were clamouring to hear her side of the story and she had a press conference organized for two o’clock.

  Tom had some poached eggs on toast with a side order of bacon but Melanie admitted to feeling a little more delicate and settled for toast and coffee. He noticed how everywhere Melanie went both men and women looked at her and wondered if it was because of her looks or her fame. It must do strange things to your mind he thought. She seemed not to notice but Tom found it a little unnerving and decided on balance, he probably wouldn’t like to be a film star.

  “Could you get me a part in a film?” he suddenly asked. “Preferably one opposite Julia Roberts that involves some intense love scenes.”

  Melanie laughed. “I’ll introduce you to Julia sometime.” She drank some coffee then looked up. “Love scenes aren’t much fun you know?”

  “You certainly wouldn’t get me undressing in front of millions of cinema goers,” he agreed. The images of Melanie naked in a couple of her films had occupied his mind more than once over dinner.

  “I’m lucky because I have complete control over these things nowadays. I haven’t had to do a real nude scene for several years.”

  “But I saw your last movie. And frankly saw quite a lot of you too!”

  “Not really you didn’t. That was mostly body doubles. Certainly they weren’t my breasts or my ass.”

  “That’s not right,” Tom exclaimed. “I paid good money to see your breasts not someone else’s,” he continued, feigning indignation. “I could probably sue you under the trade descriptions act.”

  “You’re mad,” she succinctly remarked.

  The more time Tom spent in Melanie’s company, the more he found he really liked her. Sure there was a bit of physical attraction as well but that was just added spice.

  “Completely bonkers I have to agree,” he admitted. “Would you like to go racing later this week? There’s a meeting at Kempton on Friday evening.” Melanie had told him over dinner that she would be heading back to the states at the weekend and Tom wanted the chance to see more of her before she left.

  “Sounds fun. As long as you promise I’ll win.”

  “The only tip I’ll give you is to ignore whatever I tell you will win. That will narrow the field down for you.” Recent luck had led him to believe his selections amounted to highly valuable information for anyone looking to pick a horse to finish second.

  “Are you finished?” Tom asked.

  “I think I’ll have a bit more coffee. You get going if you need to.”

  “You certainly do enjoy your caffeine.”

  “I’d tell you it’s my only vice but I’d be lying.”

  Tom got up from his chair and leaned forward to kiss Melanie on both cheeks. “I’ll call you about Friday. If you change your mind let me know in time, so I can invite Julia or someone else!” Then he turned and headed for his room, turning back at the entrance to the dining room to look at her and remember the moment. He couldn’t be sure when or if he would ever have breakfast again with Melanie Adams.

  Connor had arrived early at the park for his second meeting with the Brit. It was another ice cold day in keeping with his mood and he hoped he wouldn’t have to wait around long. He didn’t fancy sitting on the nearby bench and freezing to death so walked in a wide circle around the meeting spot. A few hardy types had braved the freezing cold to stretch their legs. Everyone walked with a purpose though; no one was just taking a lunchtime stroll for the sake of it. On a warmer day the benches would be filled with office workers eating their sandwiches but not today.

  Connor had telephoned the previous day to the Head of Operations in Belfast and updated him about his first meeting with Jones. He had promised to go straight to see the Chief and update him. It wasn't easy to telephone the Chief directly at home, especially regarding the most delicate matters, as it was always assumed someone was monitoring his calls. Connor wanted to know from the Chief what limits were there on his actions. He knew it was important to the Chief to silence the Murphy boy but was it truly at any cost, as he’d first suggested. Connor knew those words had been spat out in anger. And it hadn’t been the right time to question what the Chief said.

  Connor was an expert shot and normally that was sufficient for his work. However, what if the only way to guarantee a result was to detonate a car bomb as Murphy passed. That had always worked well in the past but such unrefined methods were no longer considered acceptable. Semtex going off in a public street inevitably led to a risk of widespread casualties. There was supposed to be a cease-fire in place. Connor made it very clear to his contact he needed the Chief to spell out very precisely what was acceptable.

  Connor spotted Jones hurrying towards the meeting point, which given he was carrying more than a few extra pounds, was quite an achievement in itself. Connor intercepted his path by coming up behind him. “I’m here,” he said simply but it was enough to make Jones jump, which had been the intention.

  Connor came straight to the point. "What do you know?” he said brusquely.

  “Let’s walk,” Jones said, but it sounded a bit too much like an order for Connor’s like. “More private,” Jones added encouragingly.

  Connor immediately found himself having to walk faster than he liked, to keep pace with the man. A bit of a bloody ex soldier’s march, he thought.

  "He’ll be up before the judge tomorrow,” Jones said. “A two minute appearance in court to hear the charges. Then he’ll be remanded in solitary until his trial.”

  “I need to know routes and time.”

  “He’s in court at four.” Jones reached into his inside coat pocket and withdrew some folded paper. “I’ve marked the map,” he explained, as he handed the paper to Connor. “Give me a number where I can reach you in case they change the time or anything.”

  Murphy had brought with him a compliments slip from the hotel, detailing the address and telephone number.

  "I'm staying here,” he said, thrusting the slip towards the Brit who glanced at it before folding it neatly and placing it in his
pocket.

  "I hope you’re not planning anything too wild,” Jones cautioned. “It would be totally unacceptable. We don’t want mayhem on the streets of London. Neither do I want to see innocent people harmed.”

  “A very touching speech. Now why don’t you just bugger off?” It amused Connor to emphasise the word bugger. They had Jones on film with the fifteen year old who had encouraged him to enjoy her however he wanted, just don’t make her pregnant.

  Jones saw no point in responding. He understood the innuendo. He wanted to be away from here as soon as possible. Being around this terrorist made him feel unclean as everything about Ireland did nowadays. For him it was a place synonymous with death and despair. The people who lived in the North deserved what they had created. A little piece of hell on earth in his opinion, inhabited by more than one devil. He did though want to know how many terrorists there were running around London. He didn’t want their troubles soiling where he lived.

  “What backup do you have?” Jones asked.

  “That’s my business.”

  “You bloody Irish are all the same.”

  "Know a lot of Irish people do you?”

  Jones looked surprised by the question. "Enough," he answered.

  "Only I wondered where you'd gained your in-depth understanding of the Irish people,” Connor said sarcastically. “Was it from fifteen year old girls or did you actually meet some adults?” Connor didn’t know too much about Jones time in Ireland apart from how he had been trapped. He assumed he might well have been responsible for the death or imprisonment of old friends. He remembered the soldier like march and wished he could have Jones in the sights of an Armalite, rather than be doing deals with him. He did though enjoy winding the Brit up.