Fitz was surprised to see me and for a moment he stood there in the doorway, hands in his pockets, as though he’d forgotten what he came in for. He looked lost, his shoulders slumped. My heart sank for him. He looked so defeated. Much as I didn’t want to know what this deal was all about, I wanted it to work out for him.
There must be something I can do to help, I thought. Something to give his confidence a boost . . .
Arnold and the others didn’t even stir. Now that I had some extra audience members I upped the game a little bit more, until the song finished.
Dylan made his way over to the laptop and hit pause, and I took Fitz by the hand and said, “Can I have a word?” while Dylan turned to the assembled men and asked them if they wanted another drink.
I steered Fitz out of the door into the hallway and, casting a quick glance to make sure we were alone, I pushed him firmly back against the wall and kissed him.
Just at the moment that he started to respond, I backed away.
He was staring at me, his breathing fast, the beginnings of a smile.
“You can do this,” I whispered.
“What?” he asked.
“Whatever you want to. With Arnold. You can get the deal. Just go and do it.”
He stroked my cheek gently. “Do you have any idea?”
“What?”
He just shook his head.
“Fitz,” I said, “go and work it out. This is exactly what you’re good at, you know it is. Go on.”
He went back into the lounge and I closed the door behind him. Dylan was in the act of topping up Arnold’s glass with whiskey.
He looked up at me, and for a moment I thought I saw something unguarded in that look. And then the shutters came down again, and it was gone.
They did their deal. I didn’t know what it was exactly, had no wish to, but the likelihood was some importation, or a big supply. Nothing I wanted any involvement in.
After the discussions had finished, Arnold and his associates left in several cars; at about four thirty Gray called taxis for the girls—three cabs turned up at the back of the house at five and they all went. All except Caddy. She was sitting in the kitchen.
“Caddy,” I said, touching her arm.
“What do you want?” she asked, in a tone of voice that suggested she wasn’t interested in my response.
“You know there’s nothing going on between me and Fitz, don’t you?”
She looked up at me then, looked me in the eyes for the first time since we’d been having drinks before dinner and Fitz had kissed me on the cheek. Looked at me as though she couldn’t trust me, didn’t believe me, and would be happy if I’d just fuck off and leave her the hell alone.
“I don’t give a shit what you do with Fitz, personally,” she said with emphasis.
“Why are you pissed off at me, then?”
An exaggerated, drunken shrug.
“I thought you were my friend, Caddy.”
Dylan was watching all this with the merest flicker of amusement behind his usually implacable blue eyes.
“I know what he’s like,” she said miserably. “You don’t realize it ’cause you’re new. I know the signs.”
“What signs? What are you talking about?”
“He wants you. Since you arrived, he hasn’t looked at me twice. Know how much that hurts? Any idea?”
“Caddy, this is ridiculous. I don’t have any intention of doing anything with him.”
I saw her eyes narrow and felt the venom when she next spoke.
“You would if he paid you enough.”
It hurt more because she was right. I knew it and so did she. And then, in Fitz’s multimillion-pound house, in his marble kitchen, I felt cheap and ashamed of myself for the first time since I’d started down this road. What was I doing? It was a boat, it was just a boat. I was in a hurry to get the money together because I’d become greedy and mean and single-minded. I’d slipped into a dangerous spiral of consequences, wanting to buy the boat to escape from all this, and getting into it deeper still in the process.
Gray came into the kitchen then, started banging around making coffee, and Dylan went to join Nicks in the lounge.
I went back to the bathroom to get my stuff together, leaving Caddy in the kitchen. Fitz was in the hallway, at a big glass table, counting money and stuffing it into envelopes. We exchanged looks. Then he followed me, bringing one of the envelopes with him. My pay for the evening. He put it on the top of my bag. It looked fatter than last time. I felt sick at the sight of it, and at the same time felt a shiver of excitement. I could hardly wait to get home so I could count it all.
“You were great tonight,” he said. He shut the door behind him and sat down on the chair, watching me while I packed away makeup, towels, dresses, and shoes.
“I enjoyed it,” I said. “I’m glad it turned out okay.”
“You know that’s just between us, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“I trust you,” he said, nodding.
I was nearly done, zipping up the case and standing it up on its wheels. I was looking forward to going home and sleeping for the rest of the day.
He stood up, between me and the door. I waited. He was buzzing; he could hardly keep still. I wondered what he’d taken.
“I was thinking,” he said, taking a step toward me and running a finger quickly up my arm, “about our discussion the other day.”
“Yes?”
“You want to hang around for a while?”
“Now?”
“The guys will be going soon. You could stay. We could—er—have some fun. What do you think?”
If it hadn’t been for Caddy, I might have said yes. Despite the exhaustion, if I’d just taken a moment to consider, staying here with Fitz—he wasn’t bad-looking after all—I would have done it, and maybe everything that happened after that would have been different.
But my head was heavy with the night and the need to lie down, alone, undisturbed.
“I’d like to,” I said, “but, honestly, I’m so tired. I just need to go home and sleep. Another time, maybe?”
“I’ve got some good stuff here, you know—something to wake you up a bit?”
“No, thank you. I just want to go home.”
He looked at the floor, a muscle moving in his cheek. “Yeah.” He stepped back and opened the door for me. “I’ll get Nicks to drive you.”
When I finally left Fitz’s house, it was broad daylight. Thank God it was a Sunday and there wasn’t much traffic. I would be home within an hour.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Josie and I were sitting on the old bench in the shelter of the wheelhouse, listening to the sounds of Malcolm tinkering with the engine of the boat. Other than his unexpected appearance in the early hours, the night had passed without incident. The trip wire hadn’t been necessary.
“Did I ever tell you,” she said, “about the time he set fire to the boat?”
“No,” I said, sipping my coffee.
She chuckled at the thought of it.
“He was welding a porthole shut. Only he’d decided to weld it shut just after he’d finished all the siding inside. He had the full face mask on, you know, and he was sitting on the dock, welding away quite happily, oblivious to the clouds of smoke billowing off the boat. Liam had to pat him on the back and tell him the boat was on fire. Liam told him to go and look for something to put water in to douse it and he was in such a panic he came out with the top from his shaving cream. He said he hadn’t wanted to use any of my china cups.”
I laughed. “Presumably you’ve got a fire extinguisher in there now.”
“You’ve got that right,” she said. “No idea where it is, though.”
Malcolm had undone his elaborate system of trip wires before Josie woke up, winding the wire back into neat coils. He’d offered to redo this every night before bed, but I’d declined—Murphy’s law dictated that some innocent person would fall over it.
“He
’s a flaming liability,” she added, although this almost went without saying.
A shout came up from the hatch under the wheelhouse. “Right, try starting it!”
I went over and peered down at Malcolm’s grubby gray T-shirt hunched over the engine, then turned the key.
A rumble from the engine, a shudder, a series of congested coughs, and the whole boat shook itself alive. From the stern came the sound of splashing and churning water.
“Right, that’s enough, turn it off!”
I turned the key again. “What do you think? Is it okay?” I called down.
“Oh, yeah,” he said brightly. “Needs an oil change, filters, basic service. There’s no leaks or anything. In fact, she’s in good shape, considering.”
I left him to it and went back to sit with Josie.
“He seems happy,” I said.
“Yes,” Josie said, “he loves all this. You just need to check him for stupid mistakes—like for instance it’s just pure luck that he got you to start the engine with the tide in. Can you imagine if the prop had started spinning at low tide? Mud everywhere. Not pretty.”
“I didn’t realize he was quite so accident prone,” I said.
“It’s not that he’s accident prone, just that he doesn’t think. When we first moved on to the boat, he dropped his keys down the side into the water. Did he tell you about that?”
“He told me to always make sure my stuff had a float on it.”
“Ha!”
“So what happened? Did he get the keys back?”
“The tide was coming in and it was just over waist height. So he went down in the water and stood with his ankles in the mud and of course he couldn’t quite reach the bottom, even with his arm in up to the shoulder. So he had to get a broom and force himself down the handle headfirst until he found the keys.”
“Lord. Was he all right?”
“He smelled foul. And he was puking all night. Doesn’t do you any good to put your face in this river, truth be told.”
“I can hear you!” came a shout from inside the wheelhouse.
We laughed at this. I felt more relaxed than I had for ages.
“Why are you wanting to get the boat started, then?” Josie asked, giving me a gentle dig in the ribs. “You moving on?”
I blushed. “No, nothing like that. Well, not yet, anyway. It just seemed like the next step in the process.”
“I thought the bathroom was the next step in the process.”
“Yeah, that. Or the deck garden. I keep changing my mind.”
I slept in the back of the car, jolting awake every time it turned, braked, or accelerated. I couldn’t bring myself to make small talk, and I was so exhausted I found it hard to think straight about all the things that had gone on.
The main thing was that it had ended well. The deal had been done, and when Arnold left, kissing me delicately on the inside of my wrist, he had given me a smile and shaken Fitz’s hand warmly. And, of course, I was financially one step closer to the boat. Maybe I could have another talk with Caddy when she was sober, try and get our friendship back on track.
I was planning to take Thursday and Friday off to visit boatyards in Kent, on the Medway River. There were a couple of boats for sale at one residential marina, then a much larger marina farther up the river had several more. The Medway seemed as good a place as any. Near enough to London to be able to come back if I wanted a night out, and yet far enough away that I could escape from the city and from all the shit that came with the job. I also had it in the back of my mind that, if I wanted to find another job at the end of the year, being a short train ride away from London would be a bonus. I might not have to sell the boat after the year was up. I might even be able to keep on living on my boat and work in the city again if the money ran out.
I had enough money to buy a boat, preferably one that was at least partly fitted out, so that I could live on it while I was refinishing it. I probably had enough cash to at least start the renovation, as well. As things stood at the moment, I would have to continue working, or at least find a part-time job, to be able to keep myself going while I worked on the boat.
I wished I could fast-forward, speed through the last few months of earning, saving, dancing, struggling for bonuses at work.
I was ready for this all to come to an end.
I opened my eyes and glanced out of the window to see a familiar row of stores. Nearly home, at last.
“Thanks for the lift,” I said as I got out of the car and took my wheelie case from the trunk.
As soon as I slammed the trunk shut he sped off toward the main road.
An hour later and Malcolm declared the Revenge of the Tide fit to travel. Of course, by that time the tide had gone out and there was no hope of trying it out today.
“You can’t do it tomorrow, either,” said Josie.
“Why not?” asked Malcolm, looking disappointed.
“Because we’ve got things to do!” said Josie, smacking him around the shoulder. “Anyway, what’s the great rush all of a sudden?”
“Well, the boat’s fixed,” I said. “I’d love to just go for a little motor upriver, just to see what’s there.”
“Well, you can wait until after the weekend,” said Josie firmly, and that appeared to be that.
She went up to the laundry room to unload the machine, leaving Malcolm packing up his various tools into a filthy canvas bag. When he was done, he sat back on the bench with me. The smell of him reminded me of my dad—engine oil, sweat, effort.
“Thank you,” I said.
“What for?”
“Fixing the boat, of course. You’ve been great.”
“Ah, it’s nothing,” he said. “Be good to get her out for a motor, anyway.”
As though the Revenge were a little pleasure boat and not a hulking great seventy-five-foot-long barge with all my worldly possessions on it. But it was what I needed to do, after all. I just wished he weren’t quite so casual about it all.
Josie was heading back down the slope to the dock, a plastic laundry bag weighing her down. When she’d nearly reached the Scarisbrick Jean, Malcolm eased himself up and went down the gangplank to help her. When they’d gone into the cabin, I went inside to wash the mugs and the plates from the sandwiches we’d had at lunchtime.
On the table, the two cell phones were lying side by side. I hadn’t remembered them being there, like that. They were in the bag I’d taken to the Aunty Jean the night before. Had I taken them out of my bag? I couldn’t remember.
I checked the phones and saw two missed calls.
On one phone, a missed call from Carling’s number—an hour ago.
On the other, a missed call from Garland. I hit redial.
The number you have dialed is currently unavailable. Please try later.
I shouted at it in frustration, threw it onto the sofa. Why the fuck couldn’t he leave his phone on? Was I ever going to speak to him again? At least it meant he was still alive, still out there somewhere. And he hadn’t entirely forgotten about me.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The following Saturday night, the Barclay was busy, busier than I’d ever seen it. Norland and Helena were both in, but there was no sign of Fitz when I arrived. Caddy was there, too, already out on the floor with some of her regulars as I went into the dressing room to get ready.
The club was packed: bachelor parties, groups of men crowded at the bar and around the stage. I had private dances in the Blue Room booked, and even the VIP area was full. Dylan, Nicks, and Gray were there, too, but they were busy—the crowd was rowdy and they ended up helping out the door staff with removing those who had drunk too much.
The atmosphere in the club felt very different. Maybe I should have seen it as a warning; maybe I should have felt it. It reminded me of one of the first weekends I’d danced in the club, when Caddy had steered me away from a group of men in suits who were already tanked up on champagne and vodka.
“Not them, Gen. They’re no
good.”
“Why not?”
“They’re discussing business.”
“How do you know?”
“You get to know these things. They’ll call us over when they’re ready. And when they do, be careful with them, all right? Just in case I’m otherwise engaged.”
“Be careful how?”
Caddy had taken a deep breath and spouted one of her classics. “This club is full of men who think of themselves as dangerous. In reality, very few of them are. But you want to be able to spot them.”
I’d steered well clear, left the group to the other girls who were watching them from a distance and waiting for them to finish their business deals. Besides, I had plenty of other guys to entertain.
Tonight the club smelled of danger.
By two thirty it was beginning to quiet down; the rowdy ones had all been ejected or had run out of money and gone home. Those who were left were a mixture of regulars and tired-looking businessmen. I wound down with some slower moves. I was tired tonight; I had hardly had time to drink water between dances and I was starting to get a headache.
During my last dance I recognized two of the men who had been with Arnold at Fitz’s house last weekend. They were in a booth. I made eye contact with one of them and gave him a smile and a wink while I gyrated and swung around the pole.
At the end of the routine, when the last bars of Portishead’s “Glory Box” were fading, I saw Leon Arnold. He was talking to Caddy and Norland at the bar, and he was watching me over Norland’s shoulder. I considered going over to join them, thought about whether I could get Caddy on her own to try and straighten things out.
I had a ripple of applause from the remaining audience as I handed over control of the stage to Crystal, who was coming on for her last dance.