As often happened, Daniel broke the silence as Bob passed round the patatasbravas.
“So, you both understand your mission?”
“Get his missus back off a magic island,” Harriet replied, jerking a thumb at Faunt, “and try not to have any fun at all while we’re doing it.”
Daniel didn’t like Harriet.
“Good. So, we’ve made arrangements. You both need invites to get onto Priest’s island, which Faunt has secured for you.” Daniel threw two envelopes onto the central coffee table, which was one of the only pieces of furniture that stayed put all the time. “Cherry will take you both to the jetty, where the speedboat will take you to the island. Once there, you’ll find Cassandra and bring her back here.”
“Yeah, I get the theory sunshine, but you’ve yet to tell me this: why should I?” Harriet asked.
“Pardon?” Daniel was taken aback.
“You heard me posh cock. What’s in it for us?”
Cherry giggled.
Simon wondered whether mentioning that his head would maintain its close relationship with his neck if they did would be enough to persuade her. He hoped not to have to find out.
Daniel turned a shade of pink and a small vein appeared on his neck. He seemed to share more anatomy with humans than he cared to admit.
“Actually Harriet, there is an important element that Daniel hasn’t yet explained,” Lily interjected.
Harriet sipped her Ardbeg. “I’m listening.”
“Priest’s Island has very strict entry credentials. He likes to maintain a certain level of aesthetic standards amongst his guests.”
“And in English, girlie?”
“Only the young and beautiful are allowed in.”
Simon was confused. He was neither young nor beautiful. He was quite sure of it.
“How the hell do you intend to get round that then? Me and Captain Couch Potato over there don’t exactly qualify, do we?” she asked.
“Well, we are allowed a certain amount of leeway when something like this is required.”
“Again with the English, please?”
“We’ll make you and Simon young and attractive.”
Harriet’s eyes lit up. She nearly dropped her glass. Nearly.
“How young?” she asked, barely able to stay seated.
“How does 23 grab you?”
Harriet burst from her seat and threw her arms around the demon.
“Hell, girly, make it 21 and I’ll do you and the angel at the same time before we go!”
Lily, Faunt and Cherry laughed. Even Bob cracked a smile. Daniel’s eyes opened wide. Whether through surprise or terror was difficult to say.
Simon interrupted. “I don’t want to be younger or look different. I’m happy as I am.”
Faunt smiled. “Simon, in many ways, you are a role model, my friend.”
Harriet was dancing with Lily.
“Well, unfortunately Mr Debovar, it will be necessary,” Daniel piped up, happy to move on from Harriet’s proposal. “However, we will only change you as much as is necessary, and I promise we will return you to your natural state when you’re done.”
Simon sighed. “I suppose.” Young and gorgeous was more attractive than headless.
“When do we start?” Harriet asked, with more enthusiasm than Simon felt was appropriate.
“You’re booked onto the morning boat tomorrow,” answered Faunt. Then he paused, as if noticing something unexpected.
“Excuse me, but could I go? I’d like to help.” It was Bob.
Faunt turned and smiled. “Really?”
“Yes. I’d like to help you get your wife back.”
Faunt looked at Lily and the two exchanged smiles. Lily nodded.
“Yes, Bob, if you’d like to go, you are welcome. I take it you don’t mind, Simon? I can vouch for Bob.”
Simon thought for a moment. What harm could it do?
“Sure,” he shrugged.
“Thank you,” Bob smiled. “I’ll go and pack, if that’s OK?”
“Certainly,” said Faunt.
Bob left the remaining snacks on the table and left the room.
“Thank Christ, we’re taking a real man with us,” said Harriet, pouring herself another large measure.
Cherry stood up as if to leave, but instead stopped in front of Simon’s chair and leaned forward. He was transfixed, wondering where she was going to hit him this time. What she did was even more astonishing, pulling his face toward her and kissing him.
The room went silent as Simon felt her soft, moist lips caressing his own, gently, before her tongue slid between them and lightly flicked the end of his. She actually tasted of cherry.
As the kiss ended and she pulled her face back, it took Simon a moment to regain his focus - not least because a great deal of the blood that should have been servicing his brain had suddenly found itself required elsewhere.
“I like a guy who’s comfortable with who he is,” she said, pointedly. “Don’t ever change for somebody else.
“And you,” she spat as she turned to Harriet, “are a grade-A bitch.”
Cherry marched pointedly out of the room –most likely to the kitchen for more beer.
Simon was aware he was sitting very still and probably had a deeply goofy smile. He couldn’t have cared less.
“I like her,” said Harriet. “Can she come too?”
“No,” said Faunt, decisively. “I have things I need her to do.”
“Shame,” she replied.
For the first time that day, Simon agreed with her.
CHAPTER TEN
Faunt had arranged a formal dinner for everyone. Daniel had opted not to attend in favour of visiting a karaoke night at a local bar. This ranked as the most surprising thing Simon had heard all day.
The dining room was, like the rest of the house, a strange mix of old and modern. A huge, medieval oak table, stained with red wine crescents and the rippled remnants of candles, dominated the room. Bolted to the table were half a dozen huge metal candlesticks. Simon suspected they were some kind of engine parts, but never having had the inclination to learn more about the workings of a car than “turn key”, he couldn’t be sure. They were occupied by intimidatingly phallic candles. The long flames lapped upwards, providing the only light in the room.
The chairs Simon recognised as having Rennie Mackintosh, wrought-iron backs. On the stone wall was a dormant plasma screen, hooked up to surround sound speakers around the room. Also, on an oak sideboard, was a musical device attached to the same speakers. It had a flat silver front, which opened when Faunt waved at it to reveal some impressive buttons and lights. It was currently playing a selection of extremely soothing and elegant classical music.
Simon looked across the table at Cherry and Bob. The three of them had arrived about the same time, eight o’clock – when Faunt had asked them to. Harriet and Lily were as yet unaccounted for at almost quarter past. Simon was unimpressed.
“So Bobby, why’d you decide you wanted to help?” asked Cherry. “You’ve never struck me as a ‘team’ kinda guy.”
Bob smiled gently and looked down. Candlelight flickered across his features. It was bloody eerie.
Simon suddenly felt like he was in a Gothic horror, about to hear that they were all, in fact, dead. Then their meal would arrive and they’d all begin eating, only to discover that they were feasting on their own roasted corpses.
“Actually,” Bob raised his spooky head, “I finally recognised something. A friend. And I owe him.”
Faunt smiled. That also looked creepy. Simon resolved to read less Edgar Allan Poe.
The door opened, letting in a swathe of electric light that changed the mood entirely. A shapely young blonde girl paraded in, wearing an evening gown that clung where it should and floated everywhere else. Simon could smell her light, floral perfume from the table. Her features were delicate, almost sculpted, and her skin looked fresh and vibrant. He couldn’t remember seeing a woman so breathtaking outside
of his television.
Dear God, she was fabulous.
“What do you think of this then, boys? Got your tackle twitching?”
Dear God, she was Harriet.
Lily entered behind her, smiling. “What do you think?”
“Well,” said Bob, appreciatively.
“Fuckin’ A!” said Cherry.
“Um,” said Simon.
Harriet strolled over behind her nephew. She leaned forward and he could feel her breasts against the back of his shoulders. “It’s OK, kiddo, you’re allowed to fantasise about me,” she whispered in his ear, “I’m not really your aunt, I was just good mates with your granny.”
This was news to Simon. Whether it was good or not, he wasn’t sure yet. He took a swig of his wine.
“Really?” he asked, nervously.
“No!” Harriet laughed. “You really have got the horn for your own great aunt, ma boy!” She snorted raucously.
Cherry spluttered a laugh despite herself. Bob and Faunt both smiled.
Simon wondered if he could still change his mind.
Harriet took her place at the head of the table, opposite Faunt. Lily sat next to Simon.
“You’re late,” Simon grumbled, without looking at Harriet. “It’s extremely rude. Faunt has been an exceptional host and you can’t even be on time.”
Harriet took a deep breath and sighed.
“Son, I’ve spent twenty years becoming more incontinent by the day. I’ve pissed myself in the supermarket and again in the car. As of one hour ago, I’ve got a pelvic floor that could crush coal into diamonds. I couldn’t give a flying monkey fuck if I’m three days late for dinner.”
She flashed a dazzling, defiant grin before draining a full cup of Faunt’s home-made mead and burping in appreciation.
Even Cherry’s mouth hung open. “God damn, woman…” She shook her head in something between astonishment and respect.
Bob’s eyebrows had gone in search of his hairline. He decided it was time to top up the drinks, and began with Faunt’s – the furthest from Harriet.
“And if Little Lord Faunty-boy is really offended,” she carried on, “I’ll be happy to show him just how tight it is!”
Simon wished with all of his being that he had a less vivid imagination. It was his turn to knock back his drink. Bob helpfully refilled it immediately. And left the bottle.
“What do you think, Simon?” Lily asked.
“About what?” he replied, the irritated tone in his voice betraying that he was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol.
“About Harriet. Being young. Not bad, is it?”
“Not bad? Have you been listening?”
“No, I mean she looks good, doesn’t she?”
“Oh. I suppose.” Simon wondered why Lily had taken it upon herself to torture him.
“So maybe you won’t find it so terrible, right?”
Simon looked down at himself. He was a little soft about the middle, but not so much that anyone would mistake him for a bouncy castle. His skin was beginning to wrinkle, a little. Avoiding the sun for a long time had preserved it better than most. He looked OK.
“I’ve always believed that people are the shape they deserve to be.”
“Easy for you to say, boy. When did you last burn your nipple on a candle reaching for your drink?”
Cherry started the giggling, of course. Faunt quickly joined in and, before long, the whole table were laughing heartily – even Bob. Simon was fairly sure it was some form of collective euphoria, but it was better than hearing about his great aunt’s genital improvements.
The ice broken, dinner arrived and, of course, Faunt had everyone’s favourite dish prepared.
As he lay in bed later, fidgeting and praying to fall asleep, Simon tried in vain not to think of it as a condemned man’s last meal.
He touched his face, feeling the familiar contours. He hoped he’d still recognise it tomorrow.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Gabby trembled slightly as she poured her coffee. Her head ached. She was in good condition. She knew the value of taking care of her body. It would inevitably degrade. But a professional athlete would be sore after last night.
Luke reached out and steadied her hand, gently stroking it at the same time. He was feeling rough, too. But it was worth it. Who knew how many more nights like that they would get?
The hotel breakfast was good. Food was another benefit of being mortal, and one neither of them took for granted. It was one of the reasons they’d chosen a pizza delivery business. Pepperoni pizza is perfect food.
The meal before them might not have been a traditional Scottish heart attack on a plate, but the Continental mix of fresh croissants and good coffee was a nice way to start the day in the current heat - and with their current hangovers.
“You’ll be the lovebirds then, huh?”
Luke and Gabby both jumped at the voice. They had been alone in the dining room a moment ago. Now there was an audaciously dressed young woman looming over the table. Several croissants now had more coffee on them than usual.
Cherry pulled up a chair from another table. “So, how’s the food? I always find this European stuff a little light, you know? Gimme a half dozen donuts any day.”
Luke reached for the bag beside him. He doubted he could get the gun inside it without her noticing. This girl was either inhumanly fast or a teleporter. If it was the latter, he had a chance.
“Who are you? What do you want? Where did you come from?” Gabby apparently wasn’t in the mood to wait for answers. Or, for that matter, to breathe.
“The big guy sent me.”
Luke stopped with his hand on the gun, still inside the bag.
“The big guy?” he asked.
“Ha! No, not him. The other big guy. The furry one.”
“Faunt,” Gabby realised. Luke kept his hand on the gun all the same. He didn’t like people appearing out of nowhere.
Cherry helped herself to a slightly soggy croissant, and poured herself a coffee in a cup stolen from the next table. “I have to tell you when to go and give you these,” she said, producing an envelope from a pocket somewhere on her body. Luke attempted to ascertain exactly where from –there wasn’t a lot of material that looked capable of sustaining a pocket.
“But there’s a condition,” the girl added.
Gabby looked apprehensively up at Luke. Was Faunt about to tip his hand? Were they even in the game? Faunt was an information broker. His help did not normally come without a fee. What was this going to cost them? She knew Luke would understand all of her concerns from her glance.
Unfortunately, he was looking intently at Cherry’s thigh and missed it. Gabby made a mental note to beat him later. With sticks.
“He says you can stop them, but Simon is not to be hurt.”
“Why would we want to hurt him?” Luke asked, defensively. “We’ve been looking after him for years.”
“Have you?” she asked, seeming genuinely interested.
“Sweetheart, it’s not that unreasonable, is it?” said Gabby. “I mean…” she gave him a pointed look, not wanting to have to finish the sentence.
Her words knocked the wind out of Luke. He hated being reminded of that. He hated that she’d reminded him.
And he hated that she was absolutely right.
“OK,” he said, staring at the table. “What are we stopping them from doing?”
“Bringing back Faunt’s wife. She’s called Cassandra. You know her?”
“I know of her,” Luke answered. “Where is she?”
“Priest has her,” Cherry answered.
Luke and Gabby looked at each other across the table. Gabby raised her eyebrows. Maybe they could just leave Debovar to fail all by himself.
“OK,” Luke finally said. “Anything else we should know?”
“He says if Simon gets hurt, he’ll hold you two personally responsible and that regardless of who else you have to answer to, he’ll make you pay for it.”
This was obviously not a point Faunt wanted to be taken lightly. To be targeted by a man with absolute knowledge was an unappealing thought.
“OK,” said Luke. “You have my word.”
Cherry turned to Gabby. “And yours?”
She nodded, silently.
“Cool. Everything you need to know is in here. You have to get the second boat. Simon won’t recognise you. Faunt says he’s never seen your faces, but Bob has and will.”
“Who’s Bob?” Gabby asked, perplexed.
“Tall guy - looks after Faunt’s place.”
Gabby remembered. The gatekeeper.
With that, Cherry threw the envelope towards the table and was gone before it landed, with a gentle, sucking breath of air.
Gabby looked at the envelope. She no longer had an appetite. She stood, lifting it from the table and headed for the stairs back to their room. “Come on, we need to read. And talk.”
Luke stood after a moment’s pause. She seemed…annoyed…or at the very least disgruntled. Had he done something wrong?
Well, he’d find out eventually.
----
Simon looked at himself in the mirror. He was naked.
This was not an uncommon state of affairs for him. What was unusual was that he was, as he’d heard it described on TV, ‘buff’. His slightly wobbly spare tyre had been replaced with a fully-ripped six pack. The beginnings of man boobs were now rock hard pecs. His legs had gone from pale and awkward to tanned and toned. And one particular increase in both length and width assured him that it had been Lily who’d designed his new look - Daniel would not have bothered with that particular detail.
His face, however, was the change he could not tear himself away from. He’d never really considered himself to be unattractive, but neither was he anything special to look at. In short, impeccable manners aside, he believed himself to be comprehensively mediocre. And yet, while the face looking back at him was still very clearly him, it was also, somehow, better.
A few wrinkles had gone, along with a few old acne scars, leaving skin that looked as young and vibrant as a baby’s, but with a slightly rugged, manly tone. His nose was a little more narrow; his jaw a little more square. Even the best cosmetic surgeon would struggle to identify each tiny tweak that had been made to Simon’s appearance, but the overall effect was of turning a largely unremarkable man into one who would stop women in their tracks. And some men, he imagined.
Carpet Diem Page 9
