The Meltdown of a Banker's Wife (18 page)

46

‘What have you been doing all week, Alan?' ventured Mel, uncertain that she was strong enough to bear the answer.

‘Well, it all merges into one. I'll be able to remember later, I think. I could sleep for a week. I feel as if I've been up for one very long day! Have you really been away and come back?'

‘Yes, Alan.' Mel sighed deeply. ‘We've been thinking … what about we get this trip sorted? I think we should take a teepee with us to Madagascar. We had booked a bit of a rough hotel, but I think we need to get right down to the basics. You've completely lost the plot, Alan. I've got to rescue you from yourself!'

Kelly nodded in agreement and looked at Rob.

‘The boss has invited us over to Sardinia for a week. I thought it might be fun to do that instead.'

‘No way, Alan. I don't want to spend any more time with inane people who have so much time and money on their hands that they can become obsessed with the aesthetics of their nether regions. I mean … I was talking with one woman (at least I believe it was a woman) whose skin was stretched like a hyper-inflated balloon. She was informing me, with the aid of ebullient detail and an intricate sketch, the geography of her genitalia as observed by the narrator herself with some sort of periscope and mirror contraption. She progressed to a full description, with diagrams, of the ambitions she and her surgeon shared in a bid to improve the area. You can't honestly expect me to spend any more time with beings like that and retain my sanity, surely?'

‘I think you are too judgemental. You're becoming so prissy these days, Mel. I don't remember you being so prissy when we met.' Alan pulled a face. ‘I actually enjoyed those people's company. Aha … I remember now … a lot of those people have been partying here. Not just in the house, but all over. Brent came over in his helicopter and flew some friends in with him. Landed in the field over there. Brought lots of fun friends with all manner of special talents with him. Very gifted individuals, certainly not “inane”!' Alan sniggered annoyingly and Rob joined in.

‘Right. I can see that you're more in need of a reality check than I realised in my worst nightmares! You actually thought these – people – for want of a better word … were good company?'

‘Er … yes,' concluded Alan.

‘Briony, Zeus and Dad have been telling me that they have information about banking, and your bank's dealings in particular. They've strongly suggested that we go away somewhere isolated before “Armageddon” strikes. Their words, not mine, Alan. Armageddon! I thought it had already hit when I got home. I cannot imagine what you've been doing here, but I've got some inkling. Mrs Gulliver, from next door, came over here telling me all about your exploits with glee. God knows what the neighbourhood thinks of us now. She said that you, Rob and Brent, to name but a few, have been running around practically naked. It doesn't go down well in Surrey.' Kelly was now sitting at the table sucking her thumb. The stress and shock had obviously been too much. Just then, the phone rang. It was Poppy.

‘Oh hi! Melly! What a brilliant week we've had. So many interesting people! Wow! You're so lucky! Tarkers and I were just talking about it. Alan has done so much for us. We really have to give you something in return. We were thinking … how about we whizz you over to Rome? Five-star hotel … Spa … Shopping. All the best restaurants and we'll even
have Amy and Michael to stay with us whilst you two gallivant around enjoying yourselves. This weekend! How about it!? Please say yes!'

‘Who is it?' enquired Alan. ‘Is it Poppydoodle?'

‘“Poppydoodle?”' Oh my God … that is sickening!

‘Yes it is Poppy … if that's who you mean.' Mel grimaced.

‘Oh … when are they coming over?' asked Alan excitedly. Things were much worse than she thought. Alan was obviously very close to the Addams Family now. What on Earth was the attraction? And what was all this with the stupid nicknames? Alan and Mel had always regarded with disdain the Valentine messages in the local paper where lovers called each other Furrybumkins and Squirrelwhiskers. It was evident that he had completely lost the plot. She had a sinking feeling about the treat Poppy was offering and was just wondering whether to mention it to Alan at all when Poppy said.

‘Oh, is that Alan!? I need to talk to him! Business, you know.' Mel could hardly say that he wasn't there, because she'd obviously heard him, so there was no choice but to hand over the phone.

‘Of course! We'd absolutely love to go! Yes … yes … this weekend! How absolutely fabulous!' enthused Alan. Mel tried to give him warning glares, stretching her eyebrows halfway up her forehead and widening her eyes, but these subtleties were completely lost on Alan. He came off the phone and playfully tapped Mel on the bottom.

‘How about that?! What a treat! Why are you looking at me like that? Anyone would think you didn't like the darling girl!'

‘Darling girl?! Poppy? What has got into you? No I don't particularly like her, if you must know. She's still the same dreadful person that she was when her son was bullying Michael. Can't you see, she's manipulating you? When did you lose your instincts? What or who did this to you?'

‘Well, I thought I was the paranoid one, but you really
take the biscuit, Mel! If you don't want to take up their kind offer then I'll find someone else to come with me. I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth!' said Alan.

And once again, Mel found herself questioning her own motives. Poppy had been nothing but pleasant for ages. In fact, she'd never been horrible, just rather superficial and sycophantic. And Algy wasn't bullying Michael any more.

In fact, far from it … they had a shared interest in Airport Barbie dolls and Sylvanian Families these days. Michael had even adopted some of Algy's interests and had started making paper aeroplanes and paper guns. It had actually been a relief, though it pained her to admit it. She had always prided herself on allowing her children to express themselves as they wanted. She'd tried very hard not to push the children into gender stereotypical holes. But she had been a little anxious really that Michael enjoyed playing with dolls so much. It wasn't so much about her as about Michael … She desperately wanted him to fit in and be happy. She didn't want him to be different because she couldn't bear the thought that he might be bullied or left out. When Algy had started bullying Michael, Mel had even tried to replace a Barbie with a soldier doll, but it hadn't worked. The soldier was still in his box. So, thinking rationally, why did she distrust Poppy and Tarkers so? What was the logic behind this? Well, there was none. She couldn't ruin her relationship with Alan over a hunch. Maybe she was just jealous of Poppy for some bizarre reason. When she was training as a nurse, there was a great emphasis on being self-aware in order to approach patients with no preconceptions and prejudices. Perhaps there was something within her that was stopping her seeing Poppy as the lovely person that Alan saw.

‘OK, Alan, yep. Course I'd love to. Don't mind me. I'm just a bit overwhelmed with it all,' placated Mel.

Kelly shot her a glance, but Mel decided to ignore it. No, she would give Poppy the benefit of the doubt.

So that was how she found herself returning Poppy's call and gushing about arrangements.

When she had come off the phone, Kelly told her that Rupert had been hanging around Poppy rather a lot at the school gates and that she was sure she had seen him wearing his usual buttoned-up stiff shirt but with some sort of ridiculous wig on one occasion and a false moustache on another.

‘What do you think of that? Do you think he's taken a fancy to her too? Do you think he's stalking Poppy? Perhaps he'll shoot her one day!' she said in what sounded like a hopeful tone. ‘I bet he has a collage of photos of Poppy in all sorts of different poses on some sort of weird altar in his house.'

‘Perhaps it isn't Rupert,' offered Mel. ‘No, I'm not giving that possibility another thought. I'll bring you something lovely back from Rome. OK?'

47

The children were over the moon. They had been tempted by the promised trips to adventure and fantasy parks and being free to romp in Poppy and Tarker's massive indoor swimming pool anytime of day and most of the night, by the sound of it too.

Poppy and Tarkers are either incredibly kind and altruistic individuals, thought Mel, or they're trying to bribe us in order to fulfil some evil plot. Perhaps they're just grateful that Alan's given them such good financial advice. They just want to say thank you … but knowing Poppy, her only ulterior motive would be to try to impress.

On arrival at the airport, Mel couldn't deny that she was impressed. They went straight to the VIP lounge and were wined and dined at their benefactors' expense.

Then they were escorted to their seats in First Class. It was lovely not to be lumped in with the hordes and squeezed into a seat which was so squashed for space that one had no choice but to develop deep vein thrombosis.

It didn't stop there. Wherever they went in Rome – the hotel, exclusive shops, restaurants – they were treated like royalty. They would enter a venue and without even introducing themselves, minions would appear immediately from every direction and tend to their every whim before they themselves were even aware that they had a whim. It was so pleasant that she and Alan relaxed together more than they had in months. The whole of Rome was at their feet, it seemed. Mel wondered how everyone expected and recognised them at first, but in the end became acclimatised to the limousine
and even an armed bodyguard, though why they should require that level of protection, Mel had no idea. But it made her feel safer to have a man with a Kalashnikov at her shoulder, built like a concrete bunker and wearing dark, Mafioso-style sunglasses when she entered her pin number at the cash point. Many a time she had wished for protection like this at the cash point in Surbiton! Not that she had to do much with cash points on this Rome spree. Everything seemed to be for free! It was strange. Like something out of a film … wait a minute … Mafia! Why else would she need all this protection?

Why did the minions try to bow to Alan and kiss his ring? Not that Alan was having any of that ‘fairy' behaviour, but as he put it, they were showing respect … just like shaking hands in England … but wait … that was another word used by the Mafia … ‘respect'! Mel's heart was virtually leaping out of her chest now. It made perfect sense to her. She remembered
The Godfather
! Kissing the ring of the Don; power; respect; protection … being mowed down by the semi-automatics of smiling men dressed impeccably in Italian tailored suits!!! Oh my God! Oh my God!

She nudged Alan and whispered out of the side of her mouth, ‘Oh my God, Alan! Are you a don or something?'

‘A what?'

‘A don? You know…'

‘Mel, I got a 2:1 at university. Course I'm not a don! What are you wittering on about, you daft woman!' He was laughing. It was a rather far-fetched idea. She was obviously letting her fertile imagination run away with her, as usual. Why and how would a quintessential English couple like Poppy and Tarkers be mixed up with something like the Mafia? They drank tea, went hunting (the ‘mock' variety), shooting and fishing, had never been in trouble with the law, even for a parking offence, as far as she knew. No, they were all sorts of things, perhaps, but Mafia!? Don't be ridiculous.

‘I'm having a wonderful time! How about you, darling?' enquired Alan, patting her on the bum.

Mel smiled. She was really enjoying herself. She'd bought the most beautiful shoes today, with Poppy and Tarkers' money and blessing. They had insisted, despite Alan's income these days being enough to afford a lot of this themselves. But as Alan had said, you don't get rich and stay rich by spending it all on shoes. Gosh, he was wise. Their new friends wanted to treat them and it would have been churlish to refuse. Mel was certainly not going to argue. It was so lovely to be with the Alan she knew and loved again. If he was shovelling cocaine up his nose at the moment, it was certainly being done in total privacy. She didn't have to fret about it now … he seemed totally normal and relaxed.

48

After a weekend spent in what resembled the Pleasure Dome from the poem
Kubla Khan
, they travelled home content and ready to take on the world together.

‘Oh yes! It's been an absolute delight having the children and animals here!' Poppy gushed. ‘Amy's been riding Elmo and has even been jumping in the paddock. Fancy some Pimm's, cucumber sandwiches and strawberries?' Mel laughed to herself. How could Poppy and Tarkers have anything to do with the Cosa Nostra when they were so stereotypically upper middle-class English? How ridiculous! So she swatted the annoying thought straight out of her mind.

‘Thanks so much! So the children have had a whale of a time then?'

‘Absolutely. You two look better for your trip. Your nose certainly appears more pleasant Alan! Did our friends look after you well?'

‘We were treated like royalty. You have an awful lot of friends in high places, don't you?' Mel watched Poppy's face carefully.

Alan poked her in the back and gave her a warning glance. So they settled on a blanket on the luscious lawn (which was more the size of an airfield) and had a little picnic. Very civilised. Not a Kalashnikov in sight.

‘So how are the investments, Alan? Have the monies passed through from Arsch Bank in Switzerland?' enquired Tarquin.

‘Oh yes. Sweet as a nut. Mortgages have been approved
as well. Are you sure you want hundred per cent loans? You've got enough to buy these properties outright.'

‘We don't like to put all our eggs in one basket,' answered Tarkers with a sense of finality in his tone.

49

‘Do you think they're up to something?' Alan asked Mel as they were settling down in bed that night. ‘It doesn't make any financial sense to buy hundred per cent mortgages, even if they do have the money to waste and I make loads of dosh on them. I mean, the interest just climbs … it's a rubbish deal, really. But they insisted on it. To get as rich as they are you'd think they had more sense.'

‘I don't understand it either. But, as you say, they didn't get where they are today by making crap decisions about money!'

Alan continued in thoughtful manner. ‘They have a lot of powerful friends in Italy, haven't they?'

‘Yep.' Mel wasn't going to do any more deduction and detective work. She'd always done this analysing stuff and it got her nowhere but tangled up and paranoid. ‘Come on, let's have a bonk, sexy!' she cried.

Nothing like a spot of wanton lust to switch off the rational mind.