Fine Lines - SA (9 page)

I looked at my watch. She was early. I tried not to think what that could mean, and forced myself to take the stairs at a reasonable pace.

I was so convinced that it would be Anna that when I emerged into the gal ery and saw someone else standing there I was dumbfounded.

The newcomer turned towards me. "Hel o," she said. It was the woman who had wrecked my car with her Range Rover.

"I'm sorry, have I disturbed you?" she asked, looking anxious. I made an effort and smiled.

"No, not at al . I'm sorry, I was just ..." Nothing offered itself, and I let the sentence trail off. Luckily, she was not one to al ow time for an awkward silence.

"I was in the area, so I thought I'd drop in and see how you were. I hope you don't mind?"

"Not at al ," I said, final y recovering. "I was just a little surprised, that's al . Pleasantly," I added, smiling more natural y this time.

"Sorry to disappoint you if you were expecting a customer. Although I suppose I might even be one, if I see anything. Anything I can afford, that is," she laughed.

"Yes, wel ' I began but she was already going on, walking to the nearest painting.

"Oh, I say, that's rather nice, isn't it? Who's it by?"

"Flint." She studied it, head on one side. "I can't say I've heard of him, but then, paintings aren't real y my forte. I know what I like, but that's about al . How much is it?" I told her.

"Gosh." She laughed. "Wel , at least it shows I've got good taste, if nothing else. Stil , it is rather lovely." She stared at it for a second or two longer, then abruptly turned to me. "So.

How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you." Stil wondering what the reason for her visit was, I almost forgot to add, "And you?"

"Oh, can't complain. Wel , I could, but it doesn't do any good, does it?" I smiled politely. She looked around the gal ery. "I must say, you've got some wonderful pieces. I do like a more traditional style.

I'm not one for any of this modern stuff, myself

"No, neither am I," I said, mol ified somewhat.

"My daughter's at art col ege. Talented girl, but some of the things she's done leave me stone cold. I say to her, "Why don't you paint something that actual y looks like it's supposed to, Susan? There's enough of these intense art students running around, al daubing away at the most hideous things," but wil she listen?" She spread her hands, helplessly. "Stil , what can you do? They're al intent on making a "statement" now. I'm probably old-fashioned, but I like a painting to look like something. If an artist's got talent, what's the point of hiding it?" I could not have agreed more. But before I could say so, she had already left the subject behind. "How's the car, by the way?" I struggled to keep up with this change of tack. "Oh, it's ... I've got it back from the garage, at last." She beamed. "Have you? Oh good." She was walking towards me. "And what about the insurance? Have you heard anything from them, yet?" I made a conscious effort not to step back as she advanced. "No, not yet. But'

"No, neither have I. I was on to them the day before yesterday, to give them a rocket. They're quick enough to take the money from you, but when it comes to paying it out again they don't want to know, do they?"

"No, I suppose not." I held my ground as she stood in front of me. Her perfume was cloying and thick, not at al like the cleaner fragrance of Anna. At the thought, I remembered that she should be back any second.

Almost desperate, I wondered how I could get rid of the stupid woman before then.

"I managed to get the dol s' house, by the way," she said, while I was stil wondering.

"The dol s' house ...?"

"From the auction. The one I saw you at."

"Oh, I see … Oh, good."

"Yes, I was quite pleased myself. I didn't real y expect to get it, but for once no one else seemed very interested. Wel , not as interested as I was worried they would be, at least. It's Victorian.

Quite a beautiful little thing. In fact I'm by no means sure I want to sel it. It's quite heartbreaking, sometimes, buying a piece you like only to have to sel it again. Stil that's what business is al about, isn't it? I suppose you feel exactly the same way about some of your paintings."

"Wel , yes ..." There were very few that appealed to me enough for me to want to keep them, but it was simpler to agree. I looked at my watch, hoping she would take the hint. It was already past the time when Anna should have returned.

"I'm sorry, I'm chattering away. Am I keeping you from your work?"

"Actual y, I am expecting someone any second. A client."

"Oh, I am sorry. You should have said." She reached out and touched my arm as she apologised. I only just stopped myself from flinching away. "That's my trouble. I'm a bit of a chatterbox. In case you haven't noticed." She laughed. "Anyway, I'l not stay, I actual y cal ed in to see if I could treat you for lunch, or a coffee somewhere, but you're obviously busy."

Surprised, I was about to regretful y agree when the door opened again.

I looked up. It was Anna.

She glanced at the woman and smiled a greeting.

"Sorry I'm late."

"That's al right." I was suddenly very conscious of the woman's presence. She had turned and was smiling across at Anna. Reluctantly, I was about to introduce them, when I realised I could not remember the woman's name.

"Anna, there's a catalogue on my desk. Could you fetch it for me, please?" It was the only thing I could think of to save me from the imminent social embarrassment.

She was hanging up her coat. "Yes, of course." With another smile at the woman, she went upstairs.

"That's my assistant," I said, needlessly.

"Pretty girl." Again, she touched my arm. "Anyway, I'd better be getting off. I don't want to be here when your client arrives. Next time I'm going to be in the city, I'l give you a ring, shal I?

Perhaps we can manage a coffee or something when you've more time."

"Yes, of course." I was prepared to say anything to be rid of her. I began to walk her to the door. She stopped in the doorway and offered me her hand.

"Nice seeing you again. And I do like the gal ery, by the way. Very impressive." I smiled and said something or other in the way of thank you. Then, final y, she left. I closed the door, resisting the impulse to lock and bolt it behind her. As I went back into the gal ery Anna was coming downstairs.

"I can't find any catalogue on your desk, Donald. Are you sure it's there?"

"It doesn't matter," I said. "I'l look for it later."

"Was that a client?"

"Hardly. She's the woman who ran into my car."

"I thought you looked a bit flustered. Is everything okay?"

"Now she's gone, yes. She offered to take me out for lunch." Anna raised her eyebrows. "Real y?" She smiled. "Could be she wants more than just insurance." I felt a jolt of alarm. "What do you mean?"

"Wel , you're an eligible bachelor." I could feel blood rush into my cheeks. "Oh no, I don't think it's anything like that. No, I'm sure ... oh, no." Anna was grinning. "Wel , you never know. Is she married?"

"She must be, she has children."

"Ah, but has she mentioned a husband?" I thought back. I could not remember her saying anything about him.

Anna laughed.

"Don't look so horrified, Donald, I'm only kidding."

"I'm sure it's nothing like that."

"No, I know. I was only kidding. Real y." She made a visible effort to stop smiling. I decided to change the subject, and with a start remembered where she had been.

"Nice lunch?" I asked.

"Yes, thanks."

I waited for more, but she said nothing else. I tried to think of a way to sound her out further, but could not think of anything that did not sound suspicious. "I'l be in the office," I said.

I went back upstairs. I had told Zeppo to telephone me as soon as he could. I sat down behind my desk and waited for his cal . The telephone rang almost immediately. I snatched it up.

"Hel o?" It was a customer. Struggling to hide my impatience, I dealt with the enquiry as quickly as I decently could and hung up. I waited again.

Zeppo's interpretation of 'as soon as possible' was apparently different to mine. It was almost an hour later before he cal ed.

"How did it go?" I asked, breathlessly.

"I'l tel you tonight."

"But'

"I'l be at your place at seven."

"Zeppo -!" I almost shouted, and heard a click as the connection was cut.

I banged down the receiver in frustration. I did not know what to think. It did not seem promising, but Zeppo was quite capable of tormenting me just for the fun of it. I picked up the telephone again and tried his number. There was no answer. He had either not cal ed from home, or else he was ignoring me. Whichever, there was nothing I could do about it. I would have to wait until that evening.

I took two more indigestion tablets.

The rest of the day was awful. It was an afternoon when everything seemed to take spiteful pleasure in going wrong. My accountants cal ed to tel me they had lost half of my records when their computer crashed. Shortly after that I discovered that a prospective customer had died, and would therefore not be col ecting the water colour he had bought only two days before. Furthermore, a ful refund would be appreciated, his daughter, a mercenary-minded young harpy, informed me.

And to cap the day off, my pen leaked in my jacket pocket, creating an indelible blue stain the size of a fifty-pence piece.

My stomach burned, irritably. Even the fact that Anna wore only a thin shirt, tantalisingly hinting at the shape of her breasts, failed to improve matters. Normal y I could have watched her indefinitely, but right then, not knowing what had happened between her and Zeppo, the sight only tormented me.

I decided enough was enough and closed early, stopping off at the chemists for a stronger stomach treatment on the way home. I cooked myself a bland meal of scrambled eggs, washed the dishes, and was just wondering what to do next to pass the time when the doorbel rang. I looked at my watch. It was only half-past six. Much too soon for Zeppo. I went to the front door and opened it.

Zeppo was standing on the top step. "Oh. I wasn't expecting you yet," I said, stupidly.

"Are you going to let me in, or do I have to stand out here al night?" I moved to one side to let him pass. "You're early," I repeated, moving into the lounge. Nerves and his premature arrival conspired to make me clumsy and self-conscious.

"Do you want me to go and come back later?"

"No, of course not. I just ..." I cut my losses. "Drink?" He accepted, tersely, and sat down. I poured one for myself, despite my indigestion. Zeppo's manner implied I might need it. If he was baiting me, he was taking it to extremes.

I handed him his drink and tried to appear relaxed. "So," I said.

"What happened this afternoon?" He took a heavy mouthful of whisky. His jaw muscles bunched and worked.

"The bitch blew me out." The room seemed to tilt. I stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean she said no."

"No?"

"Yes, no! Christ, do you want me to spel it out?" I stil could not accept it. "She actual y turned you down?"

"Yes! She actual y turned me down! Is that clear enough now?" It was beginning to be. I sat opposite him. "Why?"

"Because the stupid bitch won't two-time that scrawny little prick, that's why!"

"You surely didn't ask her as bluntly as that?" He sneered at me. "Oh, credit me with a bit of sense! Of course I didn't! I didn't have to, she stubbed me out before I had a chance to ask anything!" I closed my eyes, kneading them. "I think you'd better tel me exactly what happened."

"I want another drink first." I took his glass and refil ed it, topping up my own as wel . Zeppo received it back without thanks.

"She must have been expecting something," he said, after swal owing half of it. "It was going fine at first. We were having a laugh, getting along great. Then I asked her if she wanted to go out for a drink with me one night, and she said she didn't think that would be a good idea. I asked why not, and she said because Marty wouldn't like it. So I said that he needn't know, and she just said, "I think I know what you're leading up to, and I'd rather you didn't." I thought she was just playing hard to get, you know, wanting me to coax her, so I gave her the ful works, about how I couldn't help how I felt, and al that sort of shit, but she didn't budge. She just cut me dead! Came out with crap about how she'd had a feeling this was coming, and that she was flattered, but that she loved Marty, and she'd rather us leave it at that. Then the bitch even had the fucking nerve to say she valued me as a friend! Me! I couldn't believe it! I felt like knocking that fucking understanding look off her face!"

I was too numb to react to his language. "What did you say to her?"

"What the fuck could I say? She made it pretty plain she didn't want to play bal . She's not interested in anyone else except that wimp!" I took another drink. The spirit seared my stomach. I barely noticed.

"So much for your assurances. I thought you said she was "primed and ready", I think it was?"

"Don't get fucking smart with me! How was I to know she was a freak? Jesus, I could have a dozen better-looking girls than her just by snapping my fingers!"

"Then it's a pity she's as immune to your digits as she is to the rest of you! I knew this was too soon!"

"Oh, and you're such an expert, aren't you? If you're so experienced why don't you see if you can do any better yourself?" With an effort, I bit back further recriminations. "I suppose what's done is done. Arguing isn't going to change it. We'd better decide what we're going to do next." Zeppo stared moodily into his glass. "What can we do? She's made it clear she doesn't want to know."

"You're surely not going to give up that easily?"

"You tel me what else we can do, then! If we'd got more time, al right, but we haven't! She's emigrating in a few weeks, for fuck's sake!"

"So that's it, then? One refusal, and you let yourself be beaten by someone like Marty?"