The Room on the Second Floor (16 page)

‘So, Rocky, have you done anything like this before?’

The man’s biceps were the width of Duggie’s thighs and his boobs, if anything, were bigger than Mo’s. His right forearm sported a tattoo with the word ‘Mother’ cut across a bleeding heart.

‘A bit of bouncing but, to be honest, Mr Scott, I really couldn’t stand the violence. Oh, the aggression you see outside a nightclub on a Friday night, it made me quiver all over.’ Duggie looked across and caught Mo’s eye. The thought of this mountain of a man quivering took a bit of effort.

‘And the body, how long have you had that?’ He might as well get straight to the point. There was no way anybody could miss the fact that Rocky must spend hours every day working out.

‘Since I was little.’ He giggled a bit. ‘Well, not little, little, but a lot younger than I am now. To be quite honest, I started going to the gym out of curiosity and I stayed because I was hooked. You can’t imagine the effect all those sweaty bodies had on me. I wanted one of those, so I worked at it.’

‘And now you’ve got one.’ Duggie was impressed. Rocky sniggered like a naughty schoolboy.

‘To be honest, I’ve got several at the moment, but no special one.’ The penny began to drop.

‘And you still work out?’ Duggie was interested.

‘Only a couple of hours a day now.’ Duggie blanched at the use of the word ‘only’. ‘But I’m careful what I eat. I don’t want to get too tubby.’ He glanced across at Mo with an impish grin. ‘I still need to be able to get into my frocks.’

The impression Duggie had been getting crystallised into a conviction. Still, best to make sure.

‘This place, the Salon, is full of beautiful girls. We don’t want there to be any trouble from outside, but I don’t want any trouble inside either. Are you man enough to keep your hands off them?’ On reflection it probably wasn’t the best metaphor to have used. At least it gave Mo and Rocky a good laugh.

‘I don’t think you have anything to worry about on that score, Douglas.’ Mo was still smiling. ‘You can keep your hands off the girls, can’t you, Rocky?’ The big man grinned coquettishly.

‘Ooh, I’m man enough for that, Mo, oh yes.’ He caught Duggie’s eye, suddenly serious. ‘And God help anybody who tries to hurt my girlfriends. I can be a real bitch at times.’ Duggie believed him.

‘That sounds excellent, Rocky. By the way, what name would I put on your payslip? Rocky who?’ This time the big man looked quite sheepish.

‘Rocky nothing, Mr Scott. My name is Claude Rains, like the old black and white movie film star. That’s what the P45 says. But I think Rocky suits my persona so much better, don’t you?’ Just for a laugh, he reached across and lifted Mo bodily off the ground, chair and all. Duggie nodded in agreement and awe.

‘Well, the job’s yours if you want it, Rocky. By the way, did I tell you? You can use the fitness centre any time you like, free of charge.’

Rocky clapped his enormous hands together in delight.

‘I’ll be like a kid in a candy store.’

‘Just make sure you keep your hands off the sticks of rock while you’re in there, Rocky.’ Mo thought it opportune to make the admonishment.

‘Look but don’t touch, Mo. You can count on me.’ Rocky was delighted. He held out a huge fist to Duggie.

‘I’m your boy. Shake on it?’

Duggie was relieved to find the giant’s handshake unexpectedly gentle.

Chapter 25

‘So, I am happy to tell you, Professor Dalby, that you are a very wealthy man.’ He closed the folder on the desk in front of him and beamed.

Roger sat back in his seat and took stock. Mr Starkey, the accountant, had come highly recommended. If he said Roger was rich, he was rich.

‘So should I be doing anything special with the money?’ He caught the older man’s eye. ‘It’s not something I’ve had to consider before.’

Mr Starkey leant forward across his desk, fingers clenched, a smile on his face. ‘I was pleased to see that you are investing in the new country club. I’m sure that will prove to be a most profitable affair. Leisure is big, these days. And capital investment is a very good way to go in these uncertain financial times. I can recommend you to an IFA if you like. I think it would be prudent.’

‘IFA?’ This, too, was new to Roger.

‘Independent Financial Advisor. Somebody who can give good, impartial advice on how best to invest what is, by any standard, an impressive annual income.’

‘Thank you. Maybe you could recommend somebody.’ Roger saw the other man nod. ‘But, I was wondering, do you think I have got enough coming in to allow me to give some of it away?’

‘Ah, yes. I see where you are going with this, Professor Dalby. A foundation perhaps? There are number of excellent, tax-efficient ways of giving to charity. What sort of thing did you have in mind? Homeless people, the starving millions or something closer to home perhaps? Maybe helping beautiful young girls in distress?’ He accompanied the last sentence with a conspiratorial wink. Roger chose to ignore what might have been an involuntary nervous tic.

‘Um, I hadn’t realised that giving money away could be tax-efficient. To be honest, Mr Starkey, I was thinking about maybe funding something at the university. My subject is history, medieval history. I was wondering whether I could maybe offer a bursary or grant for somebody to do some research.’

‘Excellent idea, Professor. I suggest you investigate what’s wanted at the university and then come back to me. I’ll see that everything is set up in the most beneficial way.’

Roger thanked him for his advice and rose to his feet. He would head for the university as instructed. They shook hands at the door. Once again, he had the sensation that the other man was winking at him.

‘I look forward to seeing you again before long, Professor Dalby. Who knows? I might see you on the second floor one of these days.’

As the accountant’s office was on the third floor of the building, Roger determined to check what was on the floor below as he went down in the lift. That really was a most unfortunate nervous tic he had.

Next to the button for the second floor was a sign indicating that it housed the West of England Society for the Protection of the Peregrine Falcon. Did this mean the accountant thought they shared an interest in birds?

Chapter 26

As the days went by, life on the second floor settled into a routine. Admittedly this was a routine involving more naked female flesh, and very attractive young female flesh at that, than Duggie could possibly ever have dreamt of. He began to find this proximity with raw sex more and more uncomfortable. This discomfort overflowed ever more into his private life. Tina, concerned at first, became very worried. She couldn’t miss his distaste for the business. His subsequent lack of interest in sex in general, and her in particular, was becoming a real problem. She tried her best to get him back to his original outrageous self. But nothing seemed to work.

Things came to a head one evening. Deciding to go on the offensive, she appeared from their bedroom, clothed only in stockings and high heels. She deliberately stepped between him and
Match of the Day
, determined to appeal to his baser instincts. They were, after all, what had attracted her to him in the first place.

‘Hi, babe. Like what you see?’ She ran her fingers seductively over her breasts as an extra incentive. His response was dispiriting.

‘Those high heels are terrible for the wooden floor, Tina. You’d better take them off, before they scratch it to hell.’

There was a roar from the television. He found he could still see the screen, if he ducked and squinted through her legs. She rushed back into the bedroom and threw herself on the bed. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

As she was dressing for work the next morning, and he was still lying in bed, she felt she had to have it out with him. She took a deep breath.

‘If it is distressing you so much, then give it up.’ The solution was so apparently straightforward. ‘You’ve proved to yourself that you could make a go of it. Now, just close the Salon down, and stick to the country club. After all, your golf course opens in just a few weeks’ time. I was never keen on the Salon idea from the start. And you know you’re terrified Roger or Linda will find out. And, sooner or later, they’re bound to. Just pull the plug on it, Duggie, and we can all be happy.’ She looked at him hopefully. His response was far from satisfactory.

‘Can’t do it.’ He was mumbling to himself. ‘The girls would all be out on the street getting beaten up and catching all manner of diseases. I owe it to them to keep the place going.’

He looked so pathetic that she reached out and hugged him. But there was no getting away from it. Inside, she was getting more and more fed up. As she was reaching for the door handle, she suddenly had a better idea.

‘If you can’t close it, then at least hand it over to somebody else to run. You spend so much time on the second floor, you won’t be able to do your job properly when the rest of the club opens in January. Get a manager for the Salon and all your cares go away.’

For the first time in weeks, he perked up. To her delight, he began to look almost cheerful.

‘Of course, a manager. Why didn’t I think of that? The money’s there. We can easily afford to get somebody. Mo is good with the girls, but I think we need somebody a bit more organised than she is. There’s a surprising amount of bureaucracy to deal with. You wouldn’t believe what Health and Safety are asking for… Now, who could I get? Where should I advertise?’ He leant back against the pillow and started to think. There was a satisfied smile on his face for the first time in weeks.

Tina checked the alarm clock. She still had time. She decided the right thing to do was to slip out of her underwear, and join him in bed again. Very shortly afterwards, she was delighted to feel that his change of mood was extending throughout his whole body. And from his to hers. She slid up on top of him and looked down into his face.

‘I’m sure you will find the right person for the job, darling.’

He ran his hands appreciatively down her naked back, until they rested on the smooth skin of her bottom. He gave a satisfied grunt.

‘You’re not just an awesome body, you know, Tina. You’ve got a brain on you. That is a brilliant idea. We’ll get somebody who can take the whole business in hand. Somebody who can ensure we get more bang for our bucks. That’s what we’ll do.’

She reached beneath her, and took his business in hand.

‘Let the new manager worry about the bucks. You concentrate on what you do best.’

Chapter 27

Roger was ushered into the office of the vice-chancellor by a deferential personal assistant. The great man rose to meet him with a smile.

‘Roger, how good to see you again.’

Roger took the proffered hand and shook it. He felt quite overawed. Although he had worked at the university for almost fifteen years, he had never seen the inside of this privileged domain on the eighth floor of the Wessex Building. Indeed, aside from the VC accepting the invitation to his retirement party a few months back, he had only ever shaken his hand once before.

‘Sit down, my boy, sit down.’ The VC was a former politician who had had the good sense to jump ship into academia before the last elections. He was a tall, grey-haired man who wore a permanent smile. The opposite of Stan the gardener, he always looked as if Father Christmas had just delivered him his best-ever present. In this case, it was quite clear that today’s present was Roger.

Roger sat down tentatively on a handsome leather-upholstered chair, from where he had a spectacular view out of the plate-glass windows and across the campus. If he craned his neck, he could make out the small window, just left of centre of a red-brick façade far below, where he had spent much of his working life.

‘Sherry?’

‘No thank you, sir. I’m driving.’

‘No need for the sir, Roger. Call me Neville.’ He poured himself a generous schooner of sherry and returned to his desk. Instead of sitting behind it, he leant back against it, legs crossed, still smiling benignly at his guest. Roger couldn’t help noticing that the VC’s backside and a telephone were the only things on the desktop. How did he manage that? His own desk was a foot deep in documents and books.

‘I was wondering if you have heard of my idea for a bursary?’ He opened the conversation hesitantly. The VC’s smile grew broader.

‘Of course, of course. A most generous offer, Roger. We greatly appreciate it. You know how it is these days. The more research students we can attract to the university, the better our position in those damn league tables.’ The fact that it was his party who had been responsible for the creation of tables was something he now conveniently forgot. ‘So, what sort of research are you trying to stimulate?’

‘My own field of interest, sir… Neville. Medieval France, in particular the time of the First Crusade.’ He went on to outline the kind of thing he hoped the new research post could hope to uncover. The VC gave every impression of listening attentively, while sipping his sherry. By the time Roger finished, the glass was empty and the great man was discreetly looking at his watch.

‘Excellent, excellent. Well, that’s simply splendid. I thank you most warmly on behalf of the university. Now you know where we are, don’t be a stranger. Drop in any time.’

It had taken Roger three attempts to make this appointment, so he had no illusions as to how often he and Sir Neville would be exchanging pleasantries. Then the VC said something that surprised him.

‘Or maybe I’ll drop in on you one of these days. You really have done wonders with the place. And I must admit,
entre nous
,’ he glanced around the room before continuing, ‘I seem to be spending far too much time on the second floor these days. Maybe I’ll find the willpower to drop in on you in your office instead.’

Roger happened to know that the second floor of the Wessex Building housed the university’s collection of Lepidoptera and Coleoptera. What these should have to do with his office was a puzzle. Nevertheless, he did his best to reply affably.

‘Do feel free to drop in any time…Neville. We’ll welcome you with open arms.’