The Girl at the Bus-Stop (9 page)

Gale Buckingham moved away from the table looking flustered, and headed for the nearest waiter carrying drinks. She sank the first glass quickly as if washing down an aspirin, before regaining her composure and sipping the second more gracefully. She glided across the floor to join a gaggle of people chatting.

‘Hello, Daniel, you darling creature,’ she oozed, ‘I absolutely loved your last. I hear they’re going to make it into a movie, how marvellous. I do hope there’s a small part in it for me.’

After a presentation by Scott Jarrold who sang Becky’s praises as she sat on the raised platform cringing, there was more hand shaking cheek-pecking and socialising. By ten thirty many of the guests had already left and the room was beginning to look cold and empty, like the aftermath of a wedding reception. A rather tipsy Becky sat on a solitary dining chair picking at a plate of bite size gourmet food from the buffet, and sipping another glass of flat champagne.

‘Hello again, Ms Caine,’ said a smiling Gale Buckingham as she sidled up to her.

‘Oh, hi there,’ said Becky, swallowing a mouthful of smoked salmon, ‘Gale isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘Gale Buckingham. Look we didn’t have much of an opportunity to talk earlier, but perhaps you’d like to come to tea one afternoon at my London crash pad in Eton Place.’

‘I’m off home tomorrow,’ Becky replied, ‘but maybe next time I’m in London I will.’

‘Oh, when will that be do you think?’ said Gale looking disappointed.

‘Hang on a mo, I’ll just check with my secretary.’

She put two fingers to her lips and whistled loudly across the room, and Rudge dutifully rushed over to join them.

‘This is Mr Reuben Rudge, my personal secretary,’ she slurred, ‘and this, Mr Rudge, is Gale Buckingham the famous actress.’

‘An honour to meet you, Ms Buckingham, at long last,’ Rudge said with a bow, ‘I’ve been a fan of yours ever since I saw
Desert Island Dykes
as a teenager.’

‘My first big part,’ she replied, ‘I was a mere slip of a girl myself, Mr Rudge. Of course that was back in the days when producers paid for proper location shooting. Now they’d have me running around naked on a beach in Wales, or some other cold and desolate spot.’

 
‘When are we back up in London?’ interrupted Becky. ‘Gale wants me to go for tea at her place.’

 
‘Probably within the next couple of weeks,’ he said looking unsure, ‘it depends on what the publisher has got lined up.’

‘Well I’d better give you my card then, Ms Caine,’ said Gale, delving into her expensive-looking evening bag. ‘Just give me a day’s notice and pop round. I’m in town for the next month or so, and then I’m off to L.A. So please don’t let me down, I really would like to have a long intimate chat with you.’

She handed Becky the card, then leaned down to kiss her on the lips before turning away and gliding away towards the exit.

  
Rudge was seated at his desk at Einstein & Unger, talking on the telephone to Mr Hewlett from his accountants, Isaac Allen and Partners. Hewlett sounded quite excited as he broke the news to Rudge about
Disciplinary Attraction’s
initial royalty payments.

‘You’ll be quite pleasantly surprised, Mr Rudge. In fact you could say you have an embarrassment of riches coming into the company account, so we’ll need to address this sooner rather than later.’

‘How do you mean?’ replied Rudge, ‘The book’s only been on sale a few weeks.’

‘From the retail outlets’ reports given to me by the publisher, sales went from seven hundred and fifty eight on the first day, to fourteen thousand three hundred and nineteen by the end of the first week.’

‘Good grief,’ replied Rudge, ‘that’s pretty good going.’

‘That’s nothing, Mr Rudge, by the end of the second week it was one hundred and sixty three thousand. And now it’s over half a million. Mr Newman at Fantasy Lit is over the moon, because they’ve never had a book that’s sold as many copies in such a short space of time. It isn’t even available in paperback yet.’

The office manager, Dave Banstead walked over to Rudge’s desk and stood in front of it glowering down at him.

‘I hope that’s a business call, Rudge,’ he barked, ’We don’t pay you to make idle chitter-chatter on the firm’s time.’

Rudge cupped his hand over the receiver’s mouthpiece and smiled up at Banstead.

‘Yes, Mr Banstead, it is business,’ he said politely. ‘I’m placing an urgent order for some bubble-wrap. The rolls we have in Despatch have been contaminated with some sort of horrible grey sticky stuff.’

A ripple of knowing laughter went around the room, and Banstead beat a hasty retreat back into his office.

‘Sorry about that, Mr Hewlett,’ said Rudge into the handset, ‘I was interrupted by a slug crawling around my desk.’

‘I see, well now we seem to have something of a dilemma, Mr Rudge,’ Hewlett continued, ‘so I’d like you to come up and see me fairly soon if that’s convenient. Then we can see what we can do about all this cash-flow.’

‘Okay,’ replied Rudge, smiling, ‘how about tomorrow at ten?’

‘That would be fine, ten o’clock would suit me.’

‘Great,’ said Rudge with a broad grin, ‘I look forward to seeing you.’

When Banstead walked into the main office again later that afternoon, Rudge beckoned him over.

‘I’m taking tomorrow off, Mr Banstead,’ he said, ‘I have to go up to London again.’

Banstead smiled emptily at Rudge, shaking his fat bald head.

‘No chance. You know the rules, Rudge,’ he said, the smile vanishing in an instant. ‘You have to submit a leave request on my desk at least two days beforehand, it’s much too short notice. Besides, you’ve had lots of days off lately so give someone else a chance.’

‘No, you misunderstand me, Mr Banstead,’ Rudge replied, ‘I said I’m taking tomorrow off.
 
I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.’

‘How dare you speak to me like that?’ he bellowed. ‘The answer is still no, so just get on with your work.’

As Banstead walked away Rudge stood up from his desk and threw a screwed up piece of paper at him, hitting him on the back of his head.

‘Don’t walk away from me, Banstead, you fat, bald-headed, four-eyed twat.’

The room went silent as the office girls looked at Rudge in amazement, and then across at Banstead who was still facing the other way. He turned around slowly, his eyes now bulging and his bulbous features changing by the second to various shades of beetroot.

‘Rudge, my office now,’ he shouted, before marching away.

‘No,’ replied Rudge, ‘if you’ve got anything to say to me you can do it here.’

Banstead turned around to face him, standing with his hands on his hips like a gunslinger in a Western. His huge belly sagged over the top of his creased suit trousers, and he tilted his large head to one side.

‘Very well, have it your own way,’ he said quietly. ‘Reuben Rudge you’re fired, now clear your desk and get out of my sight.’

‘You see, I told you I was taking tomorrow off.’ Rudge replied with a wry grin. ‘So it’s goodbye from me, ladies. I’m sorry there wasn’t time to organise a leaving-do but please help yourselves to the contents of my desk. I think there’s new packet of chocolate digestives in one of the drawers. As for you, Mr Banstead, try not to get caught in the Despatch Bay this time. Take some bubble-wrap home with you and fuck it in your own time.’

At noon the next day Rudge was being shown around a large modern apartment on London’s South Bank, by the letting agent.

‘It’s beautiful, and that view over the Thames is magnificent,’ he said. ‘Shame it’s not the penthouse though, but you can’t have everything I suppose.’

‘It’s only one floor below,’ said the agent, ‘but if you’re looking to buy in the future I’ve heard on the grapevine that the penthouse is coming on the market fairly soon. The present owner lives in The States most of the time, and I suppose it’s hard to justify keeping such a splendid piece of real estate empty.’

‘That’s interesting,’ replied Rudge, looking thoughtful, ‘but until then this will suit me perfectly. All the furniture’s staying I assume?’

‘Of course, sir, everything, including the artwork. Most of the furniture is virtually brand new. You’ll also have two car parking spaces in the secure underground car park, plus the use of the communal health suite in the basement. It has a fully equipped gymnasium, steam room, sauna, Jacuzzi and of course the heated swimming pool.’

‘Good, then I’ll take it.’

‘An excellent choice, sir,’ the man replied offering his hand. ‘Shall we go back at my office and go through all the paperwork and formalities?’

‘No, I don’t really have the time for all that,’ said Rudge, dismissively. ‘My accountant, Mr Hewlett will deal with it. I’ll send him round see you after lunch.’

‘Very well, sir, I won’t detain you any longer.’

‘Oh, just one more thing,’ said Rudge. ‘If we get everything signed and sealed this afternoon, how soon can I move in?’

‘Assuming your credit and other references are confirmed and the legal people get a shift on, then almost straightaway, Mr Rudge. There’s no one living here presently, so would next weekend suit you?’

‘Perfect,’ said Rudge. ‘I’ll leave you to organise the cleaning then, I want the place spotless. Mr Hewlett can pick up the keys on Friday afternoon.’

  
Rudge waved as he saw Becky moving through the ticket barrier from platform fifteen at Waterloo. She waved back and smiled as she rushed over to him, dragging her wheeled-suitcase behind her.

‘Thank goodness you made it, Becky,’ said Rudge grinning, ‘I’m sorry it was a bit short notice.’

‘Why all the urgency, Mr Rudge?’ she asked, ‘I had a hell of a job getting another day off work, Friday’s our busiest day, and the train was delayed.’

‘Well you got here that’s the main thing. The car is outside, so let’s go for a drive and have a coffee.’

Rudge grabbed her case and they walked across the busy concourse and down the memorial steps to the waiting Mercedes.

‘Can you drop us at a nice coffee shop by the Thames please, Harry?’ Rudge instructed the driver. ‘Somewhere this side of the river would be nice.’

‘No problem, Mr Rudge,’ replied the driver, opening the boot and putting Becky’s case inside.

Rudge and Becky sat at an outside table at a riverside café, enjoying the late afternoon sunshine.