Faith (34 page)

‘You’re looking sensational tonight, Laura,’ he said as he came up to the bar. ‘Where’d you get the tan?’

‘Only in Fife,’ she replied, flattered that he’d remembered her name. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

He was about forty, five feet ten, well built with slicked-back black hair and piercing dark eyes. Not handsome exactly, but arresting – he reminded her of a well-built ‘Fonz’ from
Happy Days
. Someone said he came from Newcastle, and he did have a faint Geordie accent. It was said he dyed his hair black, that he wore a corset to keep his belly in, and that he was a gangster.

Laura thought all this very unlikely. The very nature of the gambling world meant most men at the top of it would be a little bent, but that didn’t make them gangsters. She thought his hair colour was natural, for close up she could see the odd strand of grey, and she certainly didn’t believe the story about the corset. He had the swaggering walk of a man who had worked out in a gym for his entire life.

‘I’ll have a single malt,’ he said and looked appraisingly at her. ‘You dress very well. Do you buy your clothes in London?’

Laura looked down at herself in some surprise. She was wearing a very simple white sleeveless long dress that she’d found at a jumble sale and altered by taking it in to fit tightly and opening up the side seam to make a slit right up to her thigh.

She smiled at his compliment. ‘Sometimes,’ she said. That was true in as much as most of her clothes dated back to her days in London, and others were cast-offs from Jackie. ‘But I got this dress here in Edinburgh.’

‘It’s very nice,’ he said. ‘But then you’ve got the legs for it.’

They chatted while he had his drink. He asked her where she’d been in Fife and she told him about her friend buying the cottage in Cellardyke. ‘It was lovely for a holiday with my little boy,’ she added. ‘But if I didn’t have Barney, and I lived in Kensington like she does, I’d want to go somewhere hot and sophisticated for my holidays.’

Their conversation ended there as the waitress came over with an order of drinks. By the time Laura had finished, Robbie Fielding had gone.

It turned out to be a very busy night as a large group of men up in Edinburgh on business came in and were drinking and gambling heavily. Laura was just taking the till drawer out to take it to the office for the money to be checked, when Robbie reappeared.

‘I’d like to talk to you. Let me take that,’ he said, taking the drawer from her hands. ‘You get us both a drink and bring them to the office.’

Laura knew he wouldn’t suggest a drink if he was about to sack her, but she was worried about how late it was. If Stuart woke and found she wasn’t in bed beside him he’d give her the third degree in the morning. Yet she could hardly tell a director that she hadn’t got time to have a drink with him.

Within only a few minutes of being in the office with Robbie, Laura thought he was sounding her out for another position in the company. He complimented her on her reliability, saying he’d noted she hadn’t called in sick once since starting there, and asked her what line of work she had been in back in London. But then he began asking more personal questions: how old her son was, and whether her husband minded taking care of him while she worked.

She didn’t really know why she told him Stuart wasn’t her husband, or that he didn’t really like her working at the casino, but once she’d revealed that much she found herself unable to stop. Before she knew it she’d more or less told him that she was feeling very dissatisfied with her life just now.

‘Then you must take what you want,’ Robbie said. ‘You are an intelligent, beautiful woman and you could go far. Men are by nature anxious to keep their women down, but that doesn’t mean you have to let them.’

They talked for over an hour and by the time Laura left she’d told him that she really wanted a career, but that she couldn’t sec how she could fit that around taking Barney to and from school.

‘It
is
possible,’ Robbie said. ‘I have several women working for me with children of the same age. It’s just a matter of organizing child care.’

Barney began school in early September and loved it from the start. While Laura was glad he didn’t cry and cling to her, it made her choke up seeing him in his smart grey shorts and too large navy blazer, lining up with the other children, his face bright with expectation.

She felt lost as she walked home. She had looked forward to having time alone, no questions to answer, no requests for her to play with him, no drinks or snacks to prepare, but suddenly everything seemed empty. She didn’t want to look in the shops, visit the library or go to the laundrette, and she certainly didn’t want to go home to the empty flat and stare at the walls.

It was a strange, unsettled, lonely period for her that autumn. Alone all day, then just a couple of hours with Barney before Stuart came home, then off to the casino for the evening. Stuart didn’t understand why she was down in the dumps, and she certainly couldn’t tell him that her spirits always lifted once she was on her way to work, and fell again when she got home.

She knew she was being selfish when she wouldn’t get out of bed on Sunday mornings, and left him to entertain and feed Barney. She knew she was being cruel when she made disdainful, pointed comments about Stuart’s lack of ambition, or when she turned her back on him in bed and didn’t even kiss him goodnight. But she couldn’t help herself. The passion she used to feel for him seemed to have gone.

She ought to have realized that Robbie Fielding’s interest in her wasn’t just that of an employer who appreciated an employee’s efforts – after all, she’d had a lot of previous experience with predatory men. But when he began calling in at the Maybury far more often, she thought that he was checking on the croupiers, or even the management. It didn’t cross her mind he was coming especially to see her.

She liked the way he asked after Barney, that he complimented her on how she looked, and she enjoyed having a drink with him at the end of the evening because he was a good conversationalist. He told her entertaining stories about gamblers and some of the colourful people he’d met while working in the gambling business. He was also very interested in her past, and what had brought her to Scotland. She told him more about her marriage to Greg than she’d ever told anyone, including Stuart.

Then one evening in November, he kissed her.

She’d had several drinks earlier, and she was too tight to see it coming, but not enough to tell herself there was nothing in it.

‘I want you,’ he said, holding her by the shoulders and looking right into her eyes. ‘I did the first moment I saw you. Not for a quick fuck on the office floor either, but for ever.’

‘But I’m with Stuart,’ she said, backing away from him. She’d liked his kiss, she liked him, and if she had been free she would almost certainly have been tempted to have a date or two with him, but she hadn’t realized she’d given him the green light. ‘And I’m happy with him.’

‘Are you?’ He raised one dark eyebrow. ‘I think from what you’ve told me that’s it’s all played out and you both want different things.’

She protested and told him he was wrong, but he just smiled.

‘You were born for better things than living in a tenement,’ he said. ‘I see you as the kind of woman who wants a beautiful home, foreign travel, staying at the best hotels and your son going to a good school. You could have that with me.’

‘You’re married,’ she retorted, feeling nervous now.

‘Yes, but that doesn’t mean I can’t give you what you want too. I can see the ambition in your eyes, and I like that. I could set you up in a business, or help you into a well-paid job. I wouldn’t even ask that you leave Stuart. I know that will come in time anyway.’

She rushed off soon after that, and drove home berating herself for allowing Robbie to get close enough to suggest such things, and that she’d stayed to listen to them.

But in the days that followed she found herself constantly thinking about what he’d said. Throughout the whole first year she was with Stuart, he’d given her the kind of inner happiness that wiped out any yearnings for wealth and luxury. She would look back on her life with Greg and feel ashamed that she’d once been so shallow that she imagined a man out of the top drawer and a house in Chelsea would compensate for real love.

She did love Stuart still, but she also wanted the things Robbie had offered. Stuart would never want her to run her own business; if she suggested foreign travel to him he’d think of doing it in a camper van. Whenever she pointed out expensive shoes or fabulous dresses in the posh shops in Princes Street, he just laughed as if such things were just for show, not bought by real women.

It wasn’t that Stuart was mean, she knew he’d spend his last pound on her. It was just that he hadn’t got a materialistic bone in his body, and he’d never been around rich people to learn to want what they had. But she had, and it was like a hunger inside her.

In the weeks that followed Robbie’s proposal, conflict raged inside her. The evening walk down the gloomy stair, out into the cold dark street, then arriving at the Maybury with its warmth, sophistication and bright lights, seemed symbolic. She would leave Stuart dressed in tattered jeans and a scruffy sweater, and find Robbie at the other end, immaculate in evening dress.

The Maybury was where she shone; her elegance, intelligence and wit were admired. Back at home in Caledonian Crescent she was the person who cooked sausage and mash, made the beds, washed and ironed. Barney and Stuart liked her best when she was wearing jeans and a jumper, for that meant she was in for the evening, and she wished with all her heart that she could be satisfied with just that. But she couldn’t.

She snapped at them, criticized them for leaving clothes on the floor or bringing mud in on their shoes. And Stuart often bit back, asking why she had to be such a cow when she only had two or three nights at home with them each week.

There was one evening when she was manicuring her nails, and Stuart offered to paint her toe nails for her. She let him purely because it was something he’d often done when they were in Castle Douglas and she hoped it might bring back the same intimacy.

His long hair fell over his face as he bent over her foot balanced on his thigh. She could just see his tongue peeping out of his mouth as he concentrated on applying the varnish, and he looked so boyish that tears came to her eyes.

She so much wanted to tell him what was on her mind. Not that Robbie had suggested she became his mistress – that would have made Stuart explode with rage – but how confused and dissatisfied she felt.

But she couldn’t. However she put it, he would take it as a reproach that he had failed her. She couldn’t let him think that, for it was she who hadn’t managed to hold on to the belief of ‘All You Need Is Love.’

It was right at the end of December, two days before New Year, when Laura agreed to meet Robbie for lunch at the Caledonian, the smartest hotel in Edinburgh. The drinks after work had become more frequent, twice in December he’d met her during the day for a coffee, and he’d bought her a silver cocktail watch for Christmas.

There were two separate tags with it. The one intended for Stuart’s eyes said, ‘
A token of our appreciation from the directors of Maybury Casino
.’ The second one, ‘
To beautiful Laura, with hopes you’ll be mine in the New Year. Love Robbie
’.

The tags were evidence Robbie was a practised deceiver, and wished to make her one too. Yet all the same it sent delicious shivers down her spine.

She told herself that it was okay to have lunch with him, that it wouldn’t lead to anything more, not like dinner. She took Barney to school, arranged with one of the other mothers to pick him up later, in case she was late back, then rushed home to have a bath and change.

When she was in Fife, Jackie had given her a beautiful cream wool mid-calf-length dress and short fitted jacket that she felt was too dressy for her. It was too warm to wear for work at the Maybury, but perfect for a lunchtime date somewhere smart, and Laura had been dying for an opportunity to wear it because she knew it really suited her.

Jack Huggins on the ground floor was tinkering with his bike as she came out of the house and he whistled appreciatively at her which made her smile.

She’d told Stuart she was meeting one of the girls from work to help her choose her wedding dress and that they would probably go somewhere in the Old Town for lunch. She was excited by the thought of Robbie flirting with her over a boozy lunch, she needed his compliments and the way he always made her laugh, and she reconciled any guilty feelings she had by telling herself that she would be home in time to make tea for Stuart and he’d be none the wiser.

Robbie was waiting for her in the reception area of the hotel. He looked entirely at one with the opulent surroundings, wearing a light grey suit and a dark blue striped tie.

‘You look a million dollars,’ he said as he kissed her cheek and led her into the bar for an aperitif. ‘I’m feeling like a kid on his first date, butterflies in my stomach and all that.’

Over lunch, he talked about a photographic business he had a share in. ‘I’m not a photographer myself,’ he said, reaching out for her hand over the table. ‘I’m more on the administration side. But I know enough about it to recognize that you’d make a great model.’

Many people had suggested she should do modelling, Stuart had even insisted she could be a beauty queen, though she’d never taken it seriously before. But the intensity in Robbie’s eyes made her believe it could be true.

By the time Laura was on her third glass of wine she had put all thoughts of Barney and Stuart aside, and was just enjoying the thrill of being somewhere so elegant, with such an attentive man.

She wasn’t so gullible that she imagined Robbie could make her a fashion model. With her thirtieth birthday only a few days away, she knew she was too old for that. And it was plain to her, though Robbie didn’t actually say so, that the kind of photography he was involved in was the glamour kind, for men’s magazines. She didn’t approve or disapprove, it was all just a fuzzy kind of maybe, not real somehow.