Hearts and Diamonds (20 page)

‘I was kipping in her attic,’ Jason said matter-of-factly. ‘Dossing, like. She found me there, and saw my paintings on the wall.’

‘You were homeless?’

‘Do I have to go through the whole story?’ He turned to Jenna. ‘I mean, everyone knows. It were in all the papers.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Georgina. ‘But I knew that your situation was . . . unusual. I thought it best that you should be prepared for people’s perhaps excessive curiosity. Sometimes, when a story is as juicy as yours, people can forget your right to a private life.’

‘Juicy,’ said Jason contemplatively. ‘Yeah. It’s that all right.’

‘People may well pretend to know less than they actually do, just to hear it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak,’ said Georgina. ‘And perhaps get a nice titbit that hasn’t been in the papers, to gossip over with their friends.’

‘Can’t I just tell them to fuck off, if that’s their game?’ said Jason.

Georgina laughed nervously.

‘Well, it’s your prerogative, of course, but it might not work to your advantage. I’d like to offer you some other options.’

‘Like what?’

‘You can simply point out that the story has been in all the newspapers, if they want to go and refer to Google. That should be enough to silence any overly zealous questioners. You can laugh it off. You can simply change the subject. Any of these will steer the conversation away from more intimate waters. Would you like to try it?’

Jason shrugged. ‘OK.’

‘Oh yes,’ said Georgina, ‘weren’t you on the run from the police?’

‘Yeah, with your mum,’ said Jason.

Jenna snorted with laughter.

‘Maybe that’s going a bit far,’ she suggested.

‘What? It’s a joke!’

‘Again,’ said Georgina, ‘a somewhat aggressive one.’

The session continued in this vein, with Jason trying to conform, then bursting out with some or other little act of provocation when it all became too wearing.

Jenna was not sure the experiment was a complete success but, after all, these skills were best learned in the practice and she could hardly expect him to go from snippy to suave in the space of two hours. It would all come in time.

Leaving the building with her nerves slightly frayed, Jenna descended the steps in front of Jason, trying not to be the one to speak first. If she did, she would only sound patronising, or frustrated with him.

She waited instead for him to offer the first word.

‘Well, that was charming,’ he sneered, at pavement level, while Jenna looked vaguely up the road in search of the chauffeured car they had hired for the day.

‘Yes, Georgina is one of the best in her field,’ she replied levelly, ignoring the sarcasm.

‘And what a field it is. Turning people into smooth bullshitters.’

‘Oh, Jason, that isn’t it. Stop being so defensive. I’m only trying . . .’

She gave up, climbing into the car as it pulled into the kerb beside them.

Jason got into the back seat beside her.

‘Trying to what? Make me into something I’m not?’

‘No. Making you into the best you can be. You’re going to need to stop taking everything so personally, if you want to succeed. Good manners are just a bit of oil for the wheels, that’s all. You can apply it as necessary, and be your horrible self all the rest of the time.’

That elicited a reluctant smile.

‘I like being my horrible self,’ he said. ‘It’s me.’

Jenna squeezed his knee.

‘I wouldn’t want you any other way. I just want to make life easier for you, if this all comes off. Fame can be very disorientating, especially if it’s overnight. I want you to be prepared; to have a little stash of PR weapons at your disposal.’

‘Oh, well, if it’s weapons, I want a samurai sword.’

‘Think of it that way,’ said Jenna with a smile. ‘Think of these little phrases and mannerisms as your armoury. They keep people from hurting you.’

‘Talking of hurting . . .’ said Jason, leaning suddenly forward and instructing the chauffeur to drive them to an address south of the river.

‘Oh . . .’ said Jenna, remembering.

Jason smiled his first genuine smile since arriving at the charm school.

‘You’ve had me performing like a show pony all morning,’ he said. ‘Now it’s my turn.’

‘Oh God, you aren’t going to . . .?’

‘A deal’s a deal. I take a hit from you, you take a hit from me. And this one is going to be very artistic.’

The car dropped them off by Borough Market, where they went in search of lunch before the fateful appointment.

Jenna was all for hiding inside one of the plethora of upmarket restaurants in the area, but Jason baulked, drawn in by the fascinating sights and smells of the market. They ended up buying a bag of some kind of Balkan delicacy Jenna had never tasted before – spinach and feta pastry parcels served with a poached egg and beetroot hummus – and took them to a bench by the river to eat al fresco.

‘Nobody’s recognised you,’ Jason teased, opening the paper bag. ‘You’re disappointed, aren’t you?’

‘Not at all. And I’m pretty sure I
was
recognised. It’s just that people around here are too cool to make a fuss about celebs. The Market’s often crawling with them.’

Jason took a bite from his pastry, looking over the river to the dome of St Paul’s.

‘It’s all right here,’ he said. ‘I never thought there’d be bits like this. I thought it’d all be horse guards and . . . I dunno. Big Ben.’

‘There’s so much to London. Much more than you could take in in a whole year. I missed it, when I was in LA.’

‘Do you miss LA?’

‘No. Well, it’s summer. Ask me again in six months and my answer might be different. But on the whole – no.’

‘You don’t miss that life?’

She turned to Jason. ‘You know, sitting here, by the river, eating gorgeous food with a gorgeous man, knowing that I have a project to sink my teeth into and so much to look forward to . . . Well, what do you think?’

He swallowed at that, and looked away for a moment.

‘You feel like that?’ he said quietly.

‘Yes. After years of just running to keep up with myself, I feel I’m doing what I want, at last. And loving it.’

‘I’ve never had anything to look forward to before,’ said Jason. ‘I mean, a feeling that there’s a point to it all. It’s weird.’ He flashed her a sudden, heart-stopping smile. ‘It’s nice. Tell me it’s real.’

She put a hand on his.

‘It’s real.’

They shared a brief but heartfelt kiss, then finished the remains of their lunch.

‘I hope you’re sitting comfortably on that bench,’ said Jason, his mood skipping along with the sunbeams from emotional to teasing. ‘Cos you won’t be, later on.’

‘What do you mean? We’re going to meet that craftsman, aren’t we? That’s all.’

‘Is it?’ said Jason, eyeing her roguishly. ‘Is it all?’

‘What are you saying?’

‘Come on. Let’s go and find him.’ He pulled her up, dropped their bag of rubbish into the nearest bin, and began to run with her across the cobbles, into the heart of the district of restored warehouses that loomed around the market.

Jenna was aware of the attention they were drawing, and she dreaded it in her heart, yet she felt so joyous and free at the same time that it didn’t seem to matter as much as it might. This was like being young again, like taking a picnic to the fields with Deano and running down to the river, stripping off, swimming in its shallow sparkle. And why shouldn’t she feel young? She was only thirty-five, damn it, not an old timer. To hell with being on top and in control and mature and sensible all the bloody time.

He whirled her around a corner, into a dark alleyway between warehouses, and pushed her up against the wall before descending upon her with all the passion and abandonment she had come to know from him.

‘Mmm, babe,’ he drawled, releasing her ravished mouth. ‘I want him to see that lipstick smeared all over your face and know you’ve just been snogged half to death.’

Jenna started to ask why, but Jason resumed the kiss with all the energy and thoroughness of somebody who trained at it for several hours a day.

‘Because this time,’ he whispered, answering the question she had never had the chance to pose, ‘
I
want to be seen to be the client. Not you. I want to be the one who has the idea, and you to be the one who goes along with it.’

‘A reversal of what we did at the charm school?’

‘Yeah, if you want to put it that way.’

‘You want to save your pride.’

‘Perhaps I do.’

Jenna hid her face in his shoulder.

‘I was going to ask if you could see this bloke alone. Let me go back to the hotel and meet you there.’

‘Not a chance. You’re coming with me. I want this guy to know exactly who I’m designing my masterpiece for.’

She made a strangled little sound of pained shame, then capitulated.

‘I suppose you’ll be unbearable forever if I don’t?’

‘I suppose I will.’

‘Come on then. Let’s find him.’

John Lindo’s workshop wasn’t far from Borough Market. It was in a street of thriving pubs and delicatessens, in a building that looked as if it had once been stables. Behind it, trains rumbled almost without cease, coming in and out of nearby London Bridge station.

Jason was the one to knock on the door for this appointment. It was opened by a mild-looking middle-aged man in heavy apron and gloves.

Jason introduced himself and the man smiled, recalling the appointment.

‘Ah yes. You called yesterday from Cinq à Sept. Do come in.’

Inside, the space was large and airy, all the light coming from front wall windows high up near the ceiling. A variety of workbenches and machinery stood on one side of the floor, while on the other was a fairly comfortable arrangement of old sofas and chairs with a makeshift kitchen occupying the corner.

Lindo led Jenna and Jason to this side of the room, heading over to the sink to fill the kettle.

Jenna couldn’t help but notice that the wall was rather interestingly decorated with all kinds of spanking implements hanging from nails. It made her scalp prickle and she tried to look away from the threatening leather and wood, but it was all around her, inescapable.

‘So you bought one of my pieces?’ Lindo said, turning to them again, having put the kettle on.

‘Yeah,’ said Jason. ‘A leather one, but I see you do wood as well.’

‘I do. Those are the materials I work with most, but I’ll turn my hand to most things. I’ve done some work in plastics too. How did you find it?’

‘How . . .? Well, it was in the shop.’

Lindo smiled, shaking his head.

‘No, I mean, have you given your new purchase a go?’

‘Oh, right, I see.’ Jason grinned, turning taunting eyes to Jenna. ‘Yes. It was just the job.’

Jenna cringed inwardly. Not that Jason had mentioned which way around the thing was done. For all Lindo knew, it could have been Jenna with the whip hand.

‘That’s good to hear,’ said Lindo. ‘Now, I have ordinary teabags, or I can offer some fruit and herbal teas.’

‘Ordinary for me,’ said Jason, while Jenna opted for blackcurrant and ginseng.

‘So,’ Lindo pursued, pouring the drinks. ‘Do you think it was better or worse than other examples you might have used before?’

‘Well, I’d say it was better,’ said Jason. ‘Because not only did it do the job, it was pretty as well.’

Lindo nodded and handed the mugs of tea to his guests before seating himself opposite them.

‘That’s my intention,’ he said. ‘I wanted to create something fearful and yet also beautiful. Something for the aesthetes among us. Of course, many of those who share our fetish are quite happy with a bog-standard belt or a wooden spoon, but I always thought the experience could be so much fuller, with the right implement.’

‘Yeah,’ said Jason, clearly excited by the discussion. ‘I get you. That’s why I came to you. When I saw your stuff in that shop, I felt like I understood what you were doing and really appreciated it.’

‘It’s kind of you to say so.’

Jenna, sitting a little bit back from this mutual appreciation society, felt a desperate nag of embarrassment within her. Hearing what she and Jason had done referred to as a fetish had shocked her, for some reason. Had she really travelled so far towards the margins of society? Perhaps it was the beginning of a steep slope, and if so, where would it end?

Like the discreet lady in the shop, she was confident Lindo would not go blabbing their sex secrets all over town. Nonetheless, she felt something like fear at the thought of allowing a third party to know what she and Jason did behind closed doors.

They had started discussing the technicalities of transferring Lindo’s designs on to the wood or leather, and Jenna drifted into a nightmare vision of all this getting into the papers. What would it be like, to have something so intimate splashed all over the headlines? How would she ever be able to face anybody again?

‘Excuse me,’ said Lindo, breaking into her unpleasant imaginings. ‘But you look awfully worried. Are you all right, Ms . . .?’

Ah, was he pretending or did he genuinely not know who she was?

‘Myatt,’ she said, with a small but grateful smile. ‘But please, call me Jenna.’

She took a sip of her tea.

‘Are you feeling quite all right?’ Lindo repeated the question.

‘Oh, yes, I’m fine. Just . . . a little nervous.’

‘Och, well, you’ve nothing to be nervous about.’

Jenna noticed for the first time his soft Scottish accent.

‘I suppose it feels a bit strange to be talking about this kind of thing with a stranger, eh?’

She nodded.

‘Well, don’t you worry. Nothing that happens inside this place ever gets outside. I’m talking about orders, clients, conversations – nothing. I have a client list some of the papers would love to take a look at – plenty of famous names on there. But I’ll never tell. Why would I? I’d lose good business. And if you’re worried about me thinking you’re strange and unnatural . . .’ He laughed heartily. ‘Well, I’d be a bit of a hypocrite. My wife likes to test my new designs out on me.’

Jenna smiled, suddenly very much more at her ease, now she knew that she and Lindo were both the submissive parties in their relationships. There was no need to feel embarrassed after all – or no more than Lindo did, anyway.