The alarm on his mobile rang in imitation of a clock. He rose stiffly from the bunk, the dream still vivid in his mind. He turned on the light switch and checked the sheet for evidence. There was a single chestnut hair on his pillow.
Four
She hadn’t felt nerves like this since her experiment with exotic dancing in Spain. There was no reason for it. She knew Erik; she had modelled for him before. Admittedly that was so long ago that she was practically a different person, but she knew what would be involved – just hours of keeping still and letting her mind wander. But in the amber light of the street beneath his studio, her heart pounded as she pressed the buzzer.
There was no response. She pulled out her phone to check she had got the date right, even though the date was etched indelibly on her mind. She waited long enough not to appear impatient then pressed the buzzer again. After a long wait at the end of which she decided the bastard had stood her up, a crackle announced that someone was upstairs.
“Sorry Caroline, I was on a call from New York. Come on up.”
When she walked out of the lift into his studio he was standing there all smiles.
“Wow, look at you. It’s like going back ten years,” he said, immediately wrong-footing her. She had taken an old baggy sweater and washed out shapeless jeans in a bag to work so that when she went to his studio she would not be appearing flirty.
“It’s twelve years, and I’m a different person.”
“Of course you are. What would like? Tea, coffee, gin?”
“Tea please.”
He made red bush tea and invited her to sit on a two seater sofa, whilst he sat opposite on an identical seat.
“It’s okay, you can relax. I still don’t bite. I’ve been thinking about how to approach this project ever since I met you on the train,” he said. “It’s a charity job but I don’t want it to be cheesy or coy. I’m going to treat it like any commission I do. I’m going to paint what I see. Your job is to be yourself, no acting; you, after work, in an artist’s studio in November, naked.”
“I’ll do my best. Now that it’s cool for artists to use technology, why don’t you take a couple of pictures on your phone and then I’ll get dressed and go home?”
“When I say I’ll paint what I see I don’t mean a sterile reproduction. I mean I’ll strip away the layers to reach the essence of you; after work, in an artist’s studio, naked.”
It had always been impossible to argue with him so she didn’t bother now. “Where can I get undressed?”
He pointed her towards a lacquered Japanese screen decorated with birds and trees. She removed her clothes and stepped out into his gaze. He looked at her intently, saying nothing.
“Where do you want me?”
“Why don’t you sit back down on the sofa and I’ll drag my things over here? I’ll turn the heat up. Make yourself comfortable.”
“Have you got a magazine I could read?”
“Sorry, no. You’ll soon remember what it’s like. The first five minutes will feel like an eternity and the next hour will fly by.”
She wriggled her bottom into the corner of the sofa and let her head rest back on the cushion, fixing her eyes on a half-finished canvas of a different woman.
“How is Xena?”
“Miss August? She’s different.”
“She’s pretty.” He didn’t reply. He was already making broad sweeps of an outline on the large canvas he had fixed up ten feet away from her.
He was right, as usual. After five minutes of intense frustration her mind began to wander and she began to enjoy doing absolutely nothing, a rare pleasure in her frantic life of business achievement and maintaining a home and a marriage. She loved Robert, but he could be hard work.
Her mind floated back to work and the briefing she had given Antonia about the Frankfurt operation. Antonia had been brilliant about taking it over from her, pleased for the opportunity to raise her profile in the management team. The first week Caroline’s phone had never stopped beeping as texts arrived from Antonia passing on tasty bits of gossip about Von Wolfswinkle or Cosimo. Natasha and Nikita were there, desperate to impress in their first proper job with actual pay. She had told Antonia to work them hard by giving them the donkey work. It would be good experience for them.
Antonia’s had not been the only texts she had received. Andreas had begun to send her messages after the night at the Spurs match. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was he being jokey or did she have a suspicious mind? She had been careful with her replies, aiming for a tone that was accepting of the compliments, if that’s what they were, but professional, and of course, willing to respond at any time, even in the small hours. That was just business in the twenty-first century. But what exactly did he mean by I figure your figure is even better than your figures?
“Keep still please, Caroline.” She had been squirming at the memory of Andreas’s texts. She stopped herself thinking about work and Robert slouched into her mind. What was he doing up in Scotland? Surely he should be on his way home by now? He should make more effort to let her know when there was a change to his arrangements. And why was money going out from his account every few days?
She shouldn’t know about it, but she had been working on the computer at home when an email had popped up on the screen reminding Robert to check his on-line bank statement, so she had done it for him. A hundred pounds, two hundred pounds, every two or three days. Had he turned into a gambling addict? Was he visiting prostitutes? How much could you possibly spend on cabs, coffee and sandwiches, even in central London? She didn’t have enough emotional energy to deal with Robert right now.
“Caroline, you have to keep still or this won’t work.”
“Sorry.” Her mind moved to the nice lady at the adoption charity who had explained to her the process of re-uniting adult adoptees with their natural parents. The lady, Sandra, had said lots of things which she hadn’t even considered and told her to come back when she’d had a chance to discuss it with someone close to her like Robert or Bettina.
Caroline certainly hadn’t considered that her real mother might already be dead, or might refuse to be identified. She’d always assumed her natural mother was a single parent and had not contemplated the possibility of contact with her natural father. Caroline’s experience of fathers of any kind was almost nil. Once she had successfully adopted, Bettina’s lovers remained just lovers.
Sandra said, “It doesn’t mean the baby was not loved or wanted. It’s just that some mothers and fathers cannot bear to revisit what happened so long ago.”
“I see,” said Caroline. “But what if I really want to meet my mother?”
“I’m sorry,” said the lady, “both parties and the court have to be in agreement.”
Caroline’s eyes lighted again on the month of August. Xena, Miss August, was hot, sultry, and there was hint of over-ripeness in the full red lips. She wondered how Erik would portray Miss November. It would become clear in a few days when the initial impressions he painted at the first sitting were worked on and worked on until he was satisfied.
Apart from the occasional reprimand, he had said nothing. After an hour and a half he announced the session was over and dismissed her from his presence. As she walked briskly along to Whitechapel station she realised she felt disappointed. Not in the childlike splodges of paint that were supposedly a representation of her inner state, but in the fact that he hadn’t tried it on, not even a little bit. The charm had never been switched on like on the train. He didn’t show any sign of caring for her at all, and she didn’t like that.
♥ ♥ ♥
When Robert came down the stairs, in yellow robes, breakfast was already in full swing. Georgina motioned to him to sit next to her.
“How did you sleep?” she asked.
“It took me a while to get used to the bunk.”
“They’re hard, aren’t they? I’m more used to five star luxury hotels. This is just as expensive but you’re paying for something that
money can’t buy.”
Robert pondered that conundrum and ate lumpy saffron porridge, lacing it with plenty of honey. Rain lashed the windows of the kitchen.
“Does anyone know the forecast?” he asked the women around the table.
“I don’t think the paperboy’s been yet,” said Joni, to general laughter. “This looks set in to me. Do you have to be somewhere else?”
“I should be in the solicitor’s Edinburgh office this morning and back in London tonight. Perhaps that was a bit optimistic.”
“Perhaps it was,” said Joni. “But it’s nice for us to have someone new here. After nearly a month we get a bit tense. And it’s an absolute nightmare if the ferry doesn’t run and we can’t get our daily fix. I can’t guarantee your safety if you’re still here by the end of the day.”
“Thanks for the warning. Will Regina be up by now? Only I’d like to make a phone call.”
“She rises at five,” said Joni. “She spends the first hour of the day communicating with the spirit. She passes the messages on to us at the morning teaching because we’re not in direct communication ourselves yet.”
“What does she say this spirit looks like?”
“It’s a big pussy,” said Georgina. Greta kept her eyes firmly on her porridge bowl.
“Don’t say that, Georgina, it makes it sound silly.” Joni turned to Robert. “Regina says her spirit takes the form of a wild cat. It’s a different animal for different people. I’m not sure what mine is yet but I keep thinking about a seagull.”
Robert managed a forced laugh in recognition of his leg being pulled, but when he looked at Joni her face did not betray the slightest smile. He collected empty bowls from around the table, pausing to ask Greta if she had finished. She didn’t meet his eyes, and there was no hint to confirm that his dream had been anything other than a dream. He carried the bowls through to kitchen, something he never did at home.
Georgina followed him and picked up a grubby tea towel. Robert washed the yellow residue from the bowls methodically. They were chipped and looked like they came from the mixed box at a one pound auction. Georgina dried.
“We don’t all take this as seriously as Joni,” she said. “I’m just here to chill out for a while.” She lowered her voice and spoke out of the side of her mouth. “It’s not looking good for the boat today. If you’re desperate later, I’ve got a secret stash hidden in the undercroft.”
“Drugs?”
“Yes, coffee and ciggies. I can’t be without for twenty-four hours. I get a terrible headache. I’ll be going down after the morning teaching unless a miracle happens and the boat comes in. See you later.”
He wiped down the counters and decided the monastic life suited him. A new slogan was on the whiteboard: HAPPINESS IS YOUR BIRTHRIGHT. He wasn’t sure that would stand up in court, even in the European court. Home and a family life, but happiness? How would you define it? Was he happy?
The last question made him sit down. If anyone had asked him if he thought he was happy he would have said: Yes, of course. But was he? With Caroline in danger of falling into Erik’s clutches, Forbes-Brown dragging him into this case, and his football team giving away too many soft goals, he felt he was lacking purpose. Where was his life heading? Was he feeling the models’ spiritual hunger? What would his animal spirit be, and what would it tell him to do? He closed his eyes but nothing appeared, not even a seagull.
He took the direct route across the courtyard to the tower entrance, the wind whipping up his robes and assaulting his knees. Outside Regina’s office, he shouted up the stone stairs. “Morning, Regina. Mind if I come up and make a phone call?”
There was no reply so he edged up the steps checking the phone for a signal. The stairs ended outside the bedroom where a single bar appeared in the corner of the screen. Regina’s door was open. Regina sat cross-legged and naked on the bed with her hand on her crotch. He mimed making a phone call. She nodded that he may proceed. He walked across the room to the narrow window, hoping for better reception, and looked out at the grey clouds trundling across the sky like nose-to-tail lorries on the motorway.
“Caroline, it’s me.”
“Hello you. How are you getting on? Are you back in London today?”
“No chance,” said Robert. “I’m stuck on Mura. The weather’s too bad for the boat to pick anyone up. And then I’ve got to get back to Edinburgh to brief Forbes-Brown so who knows when I’ll get home.” A loud moaning noise welled up from deep inside Regina.
“Oh, poor you. Try and enjoy it. It will be good for you to have a couple of days’ peace and quiet.”
“How’s Erik?” said Robert. The moaning became more insistent.
“What’s that noise? Where are you exactly?” said Caroline.
“I’m in Regina’s bedroom. It’s the only place on the island you can get a signal except on the battlements and there’s a force ten gale.”
“Are you crazy? Regina’s bedroom? Is she there?”
“No, she’s not here. That must be the wind you can hear.” The moans became dramatic animal cries.
“Honestly Robert, if you’re going to lie at least try to make it convincing.”
“Caroline, don’t go. It’s a religious thing. Regina’s getting in touch with her animus or something.”
“Did you say her anus? I don’t like being made a fool of. You’d better come up with a better story than that by the time you get back to London.” The phone went dead. Regina’s cries began to descend the other side of the plateau and tailed off into a soft mewing.
He crept back across the bedroom to the top of the stairs.
“I can’t stop my practice once I’ve started,” she called after him. “The spirit would be offended.”
“The spirit? What about Caroline? She’s definitely offended.”
“She’ll come to understand. You’ve no idea how much I care for that woman. It hurts me that our agreement bars me from any contact with her. I’ll ask the spirit to watch over her.”
“Well that’s kind of you but perhaps you could also ask the spirit to explain to her what you were doing when I was on the phone?”
Regina laughed. “Make her come up here and all will be clear.”
“I don’t think it’s likely. She’s busy with a new work project and doing family research – trying to trace her natural mother. Perhaps you could put something on and I’ll tell you my initial thoughts on your case.”
“Does the body of a mature woman disturb you?”
“Sorry, your body is very striking, attractive I mean. It’s just that when discussing professional matters I find nakedness distracting.”
“Think of it as an opportunity to challenge yourself. A woman from The Times was here last week. It took her three days before she would even meet my eyes but after a taste of the programme and a session with GEORGe she went away happy. She says she’s found a new angle on the female orgasm and will get at least a dozen articles out of it. And she’s promised me that we’ll be in the Top Twenty Religious Destinations in the travel section round-up.”
“Congratulations.”
“Don’t be cynical, Robert. It’s bad for the spirit. Think how it would be if western society could rid itself of its obsession with wealth and power and focus instead on the animal within. So what’s your plan to get my share options from Monsaint?”
Robert turned around the chair in front of her elaborate dresser and sat facing his naked client, trying not to stare at her breasts.
“It might be a mistake to focus on the share options. The general principle behind options is that they lapse once an employee leaves the company. However, if it were to be demonstrated that you were unfairly dismissed, then all the benefits normally due to you would become active, in addition to the payment for the unfair dismissal. Reading your papers I would say you have a very good claim indeed for sex discrimination.”
“But it was I who resigned.”
“Because you had to. Because you were trying
to protect the reputation of the company you had built up so successfully. And the reputation of your colleagues, whose standards of behaviour towards you had fallen well below those expected of senior directors. They lured you into filming them whilst they acted out role plays. They used their wives to entice you into unwanted affairs. They threatened you with exposure unless you procured naïve young women for them.” Regina rose and walked over to the misty window speckled with raindrops. She faced the Pap of Mura.
“This is why I wanted you, Robert. I knew you would see through their lies.”
“The only problem is that there is a three month time limit on claims for unfair dismissal and this all happened eighteen months ago. Have you a copy of your contract? There might be a way round it. If not, we’ll try the just and equitable angle. That sometimes works in sex discrimination cases.”
“Just and equitable won’t be necessary. I negotiated a two year notice period on my contract. The Head of Human Resources was most accommodating, if a little lacking in personal hygiene. I’m not free to work for anyone else until February.”
“I’m hopeful, of course, that Monsaint will cave in once they see your evidence. You will give me some room for negotiation?”
“Robert, if you get me those options back, I promise you and Caroline will be well rewarded.”
Five
When Caroline pressed the end call button on Robert, a knot of anger had already formed in the pit of her stomach. There was no avoiding the fact that he had been in Regina’s bedroom. No one could mistake the sounds Regina was making. Who knows what else had been going on, or was going on at this very moment? The woman was old enough to be his mother. It was disgusting, stupid, unprofessional.
Her phone beeped announcing a message from Andreas: Late this morning? Did you get your beauty sleep? She hadn’t been late. Just not as early as usual. She resisted the urge to throw the phone across the open plan office and resolved to channel her anger into making herself feel good, like it said in the glossy magazines. Her fingers flashed across the screen.
Shameless Exposure Page 4
