A Clean Pair of Hands (6 page)

Michel steered in another direction. “In France we understand human passion, needs and desires. We are a virile society. The Anglo-Saxons are more cold-blooded and judgemental.”

“I don't see much evidence of that distinction nowadays. Let's say that if there are measures of cultural differences, then one of them might be the degree to which we dominate passions by the exercise of judgement and application of the law, without which we become classical egotists and predators.”

“Hmm, yes, and in that case there isn't much to choose between any of the western cultures. That's where a lot of politicians in so-called democratic countries fail. They are
supposed to exercise judgement on our behalf but they are hopeless at it for themselves.”

“You say that, Michel, as if you were claiming some moral high ground. You say the French understand human passion, and certainly French culture appears to indulge extremes of human passion, but I believe you are subtly using that tradition to justify exploitative male behaviour. Do you not think that at least some of the world has moved to a more equal society between the sexes, even if that doesn't suit French men? I'm not just referring to the way sexual inhibitions have given way to more freedoms; most western countries have seen growing freedom for both sexes, I'm really questioning the attitudes that accompany those freedoms, whether they are given freely or reluctantly, whether the law insists and is applied effectively, and whether men's behaviour has really changed. I think that France is particularly conservative and shameless in its exploitation of women, and that's putting it politely. It's more like a Mediterranean or Asian culture. You have equality at law, but men still openly exploit women wherever they have the power to do so.”

“So you think the women are victims?” responded Michel incredulously.

“In some ways they are, and there are plenty of examples of clear cut victimisation, but in the grey areas, which you described, it's more subtle. You have examples of both extremes side by side as if both were acceptable. You have men who feel they appear more masculine by treating women as possessions, and there are women who want to make their way in the world by being more blokeish than the men, and others who play with and exploit the system to get what they want. But it's not a free choice for them. They are working within a system of inequality.”

“You are being boringly moralising, but possibly right,”
conceded Michel, “we are sexist in all elements of our culture. I agree there is no equality, never can be, but men and women are not the same. Sure, if men have certain advantages, they want to keep them; women are free to either maintain their independence and stay out on a limb, or fit in with the rest and make concessions. We are not equal in nature.”

“My point, Michel is that you complain about political privilege, exploitation and inequality, but you are not prepared to change your own behaviour and apply self-restraint to allow more freedom to others.”

“Self-restraint is not the route to a happy life. They do that in monasteries. Listen, George, why do you think it's normal to sleep with one woman?”

“It's normal for some, because if you really love someone, you don't want to do anything to hurt them.”

Michel cut in, “But what if it doesn't hurt them? What if both partners are happy to look around?”

“I agree that a lot of people these days persuade themselves, or are persuaded by the media, that it's possible to have their cake and eat it, but not if they are really in love and want to spend the rest of their life happily with the same person. Someone always gets hurt, even if they don't show it. You may underestimate the degree to which someone in love will try to adapt to meet the desires and match the behaviour of a partner. But that does not mean they are always a willing collaborator. Maybe we differ about the price of happiness, Michel,” concluded George. “You seem to believe you can get something for nothing, that you can have what you like without consequences. But I believe there comes a point where someone pays emotionally.”

Michel pondered on this, and then asked, “Do you think Charlotte is submissive?”

“I thought we were having a nice hypothetical conversation.
I don't think I have any opinion about your relationship with Charlotte. You seem to work well together.”

“You are ducking the question, George. Do you see her as obedient and adapting to my needs? Be honest, yes or no?”

“OK, since you put me on the spot, yes, I do think she is submissive. You have established your role, preferences and boundaries and she fits around you, but there is a tension there and one day it may reach a limit.”

Michel did not rise to the implications of this. “I believe that no two women are alike, but their role is to be submissive once you have overcome their exterior defence. That's part of the challenge.”

“Michel, do you agree that men make two mistakes with women – either they assume that women want sex with anybody, or if not, they assume that a woman is not interested in sex? How you position your own attitude between those two extremes may reveal the difference between us two, and it may answer your own question about Charlotte.”

“No, it's not that at all,” countered Michel. “It's really a question of whether a woman wants sex with
me
, and if not then she's not interested in sex.” He smiled and closed his eyes contentedly.

A few seconds later, Michel opened a now bleary eye and placed a forefinger over his mouth, resting his chin heavily on his thumb. He gazed down at the table and took a deep breath. After a minute, the open eye closed. It had just occurred to him that maybe Charlotte was not interested in sex.

George Milton was not bothered that his question had not been answered and he didn't comment further, thinking his interlocutor had fallen asleep. He sat quietly and thought about the elements of truth in what Michel had
been saying, and as he looked around the place in which they were now sitting, it took on a more sinister aspect. He felt tired after the day spent in the open air. Michel had been completely lucid when they were talking and George appreciated the weight of his comments. He recognised that his own background and culture harnessed him to honest work as the means of survival, and he hoped that his confidence in the sincerity of the few politicians he knew was well founded, but he was concerned that Michel Bodin must consider him to be a dry stick sitting on a fence and judging others. It wasn't like that. He felt he had a moral base and his own values, and generally knew where he stood at work and at home, so he would not be swayed by others where he felt justified in holding a line. But would he feel the same if he were living and working in France? Michel had thrown that honesty and set of values in his face this evening, but George was not Michel. George was committed to what he was doing and he worked in a very different business environment where, he believed, high-level criminality was an exception and more likely to be punished. He had made his choices, but Michel's revelations and what he already knew about French culture brought him to make comparisons with Northern Ireland, with its long-standing local issues of intolerance and connivance, and in the rest of the UK, where abuses undeniably occurred, but usually the lid would eventually be prised off, the offences made public and offenders pilloried. In France, evidence of wrongdoing seemed to circulate among the whole population without judicial action being taken. Perhaps that was because the French President was the head of the judiciary.

George eventually got up, paid the bill and took the car keys from a passive Michel. There was no more discussion on the way home.

Michel was in search of ‘stronger sensations’ as he put it. Publicly, that hunger was fulfilled by ever more exotic adventure holidays, fast cars and other material acquisitions. Those included BMW M3s and an M5, a red Jaguar convertible and a silver Porsche 911 Targa which he once said he drove from London to Paris in 5 hours and 15 minutes, including crossing the Channel by the new Eurotunnel.

More secretly, Michel was enjoying the freedom of movement given by his work whilst apparently working harder and longer. Because he was the commercial front man for the business, he had to meet potential customers at times when they were available, and that was increasingly at night. He would come home for a light meal and leave at around seven in the evening when the traffic in the direction of Paris was thinning out, and return home at one or two in the morning, though sometimes that
could extend to three or four. He was busier than ever and came and went, held meetings, visited project sites and suppliers. He organised what he described as official and unofficial entertainment for his clients, and kept the money rolling in.

After a long period of this regime he was dead-beat and feeling guilty as hell. He felt that he was betraying his wife and neglecting his family to a point of disowning them. He was spending more and more time entertaining prospective and recent clients in whatever ways they chose. That could mean expensive meals and attendance at major sports fixtures during the day, and strip clubs or a visit to his friend Johnny Mendes’s hotel at night. He resolved that he would try to do something about his sulking and often angry attitude in response to Charlotte’s questions. She deserved better. She was a good mother to his children, an excellent assistant in the business and she organised their family and social life efficiently. She must know that he was cheating. She couldn’t fail to know. He decided he wanted to keep her and he would look after her, come what may. Nevertheless, his quest for stronger sensations left him feeling that sex was no longer erotic enough for him to enjoy it with his wife. She was willing to experiment with him at first, but was quite unreceptive to some of his suggestions and he had to admit to himself that his secret life brought greater excitement and more fulfilment without her questions which he resented and which made him so angry.

Charlotte was also looking for solutions, though most of her problems concerned the daily round of the social, educational and working life of a family with three girls successively advancing in their teens, administering a business, and looking after a husband who took little interest in any of the above – though he enjoyed the results -
and being his model girl accessory as and when required. Charlotte had never loved anybody other than Michel and since her teenage years remained just as besotted and devoted to him. She admired his strength and joie de vivre and she shared his interest in the world around, though at times those strengths had put a lot of pressure on her to keep up. As a mother she wanted to spend more time with the children and be there for them. To a great extent she had succeeded, so the girls enjoyed a very close and confiding relationship with their mother. They enjoyed her company, good humour and wise advice, and they were proud of the fact that she looked like a star when she attended their school. The relationship was particularly close with Annick, who from an early age had shown that she was very protective towards Charlotte.

Although equal partners in the business, and although Charlotte considered herself to be an equal partner in the family, she had to play a diplomatic role shaped around Michel’s ideas and impulses. So often when he came up with an idea for the business or for their domestic life he would discuss it with her, but equally often implement it whether she agreed or not. He would employ staff without consulting Charlotte. She would simply find that he had offered a job to somebody and the contract and payroll were expected to follow. He would take on clients on terms that were based on historical costs because he didn’t like to do the research, which would have revealed significant materials price increases. Instead, when Charlotte advised him about a margin shortfall, he would make up lost ground by overcharging elsewhere, and above all he would keep going to auctions where he would buy items that were beautifully chosen, mainly light fittings and extraordinary ornaments for the restaurants, but for which the clients had not yet agreed to pay. Some clients were convinced and
took the items; others declined, so that numbers of
objèts d’art
ended up in the Bodins’ home whether or not they were intended to be there. Charlotte was the sweeper for this kind of indiscipline, but did it all with a smile, accepting that it was just Michel being Michel.

There appeared to be a balance in their existence in which Michel was free to pursue his instincts, leaving Charlotte to manage the rest. She undertook the role willingly and well, and she naturally enjoyed the fruits of the business success in terms of shopping trips with an unconstrained cheque book with which to pay for beauty treatments and products, and clothes to impress for every occasion. As the years went by it was also noticeable that Charlotte was spending more time and money on medical treatment to overcome digestive and nervous problems which defied remedy and became chronic.

Charlotte was no dupe and although her telephone conversations with Thérèse showed she was stoic and uncritical of Michel’s strange work habits and increasingly late nights, it was obvious to Thérèse that Charlotte needed someone she could rely on for a second opinion, and she could count on Thérèse to sum up the common sense conclusion that something wasn’t right. Nobody dared to put a finger on it, but the uncertainty was causing Charlotte a great deal of stress and in the secrecy of the night she could imagine and fear the worst. The uncertainty was filtering into her nightmares.

She could not bring herself to challenge Michel directly and every time she casually asked for clarification on his movements there was always a reasonable explanation, though his unconcealed irritation at the questions was new and indicative of his reluctance to disclose more than necessary.

On another visit to Paris, Thérèse and George were staying at the Bodins’ house at Maisons-Lafitte. The two couples were getting ready to go out to a restaurant for dinner. George and Michel were already downstairs, Charlotte was in the kitchen feeding the cat and Thérèse was still in the bedroom getting ready, when the telephone rang. Michel took the call in his study. The door was open and George, who was sitting reading on the sofa in the salon, heard one side of an intriguing and guarded conversation.

Michel – “When are they coming?”

Caller – **************************

“I can’t do anything by then.”

**************************

“So, what do you think I should do immediately?”

**************************

“How could you take care of it now?”

**************************

“Hm! I was just going out, but I’ll rearrange and be there in ten minutes.”

Michel put the phone down, scowling and preoccupied, and walked into the kitchen to find Charlotte. He spoke for a few minutes in a low and urgent voice that prevented George from making out what was said. When they emerged, a visibly tense Michel explained to George that something important had come up and he had to go to the office to get some papers. Charlotte would take George and Thérèse to the restaurant and he would join them there later.

Over drinks at the restaurant George asked Charlotte who had phoned. She leaned forward with a knowing smile, trailing her long glossy hair onto the table, and spoke quietly.

“It was Charles, one of Michel’s contacts in the tax
office. He told Michel that there is going to be a surprise tax inspection tomorrow and he should remove certain documents before they arrive.”

“Can he do that?”

“In practical terms normally not, but Charles is sending his men in this evening to take away what the authorities want to see. There will be nothing to arouse suspicions tomorrow.”

“Wow, that’s influence,” marvelled George, “you get the tax office to fix it so the tax office can’t find anything.”

Privately George and Thérèse speculated that the levels of undeclared tax must be substantial to afford this level of attention. Turning again to Charlotte, George asked, “Doesn’t allowing the tax people to take away documents mean they then have what they want?”

“No, Charles is a good friend and will see to it that they are stored safely.”

Thérèse and George could not fathom how such an obvious trick could work, but next day Michel announced that the inspection had taken place and the authorities had found nothing.

The four celebrated with a glass of champagne.

Some months later, long after the Miltons had returned home, there was another late call to Michel from Charles. “Things are changing here and I can’t help you anymore. I don’t think we should meet.”

“What do you think I should do?” Michel tensed. This was potentially serious.

“If I were you, I would sell the company as we discussed previously. Now is the time to do it. It won’t solve all of the problems, but it would make things a little more difficult for them if you’re careful,” Charles advised.

“Hm! Thanks, Charles. I’ll think it over and we’ll talk again soon.”

“Don’t contact me at the office.”

“OK, thanks.”

The pair never spoke or met again, though a few years later, Charlotte contacted Charles on another matter.