Behind the Facade (16 page)

He turned the console to Michael then and invited him to try it
out. “You’ll find it mirrors the Bespoke Cars site in style and functionality.
Customers choose what they’re after in much the same way, indicating size,
colour,
shape
. The computer brings up a test image. They
can tweak it until they’re happy. They can then describe their more personal
preferences. With cars, this would be modifications such as steering devices
and accessories. In girls, it’s such things as specific facial features and
sexual experience.”

“Clever,” remarked Michael, taking a seat. “It’s like designing
your own avatar,” he murmured after playing around with it for a time.

“No, not avatar,” corrected Harry.
“Perfect
mate.”

“That depends on your definition of perfect.” Pausing in his experimenting,
he fixed Harry with a firm stare. “I prefer some surprises.”

Laughing, Harry said, “But I’m sure you can still sell it to
those that don’t.”

Michael harrumphed. “How do you go about procuring payment?”

“When the client submits their order it produces a standard car
order and invoice our end, apart from one important giveaway - the curlicue on
the top. The client pays the invoice just as he would an invoice for a vehicle.
The car specifications are simply code for female characteristics. A code only
we can translate.”

“But why bother with such pretences at all? Again, why go to so
much trouble?”

Harry patted him on the shoulder. “All for blunt and brutal
aren’t you, Mick? Other operations come undone by trying to take shortcuts or
working outside the law. I am a legitimate businessman with a reputation to
uphold. Don’t you realise, appearances are everything?”

Michael looked at him for a long moment, blinked and then nodded
in accession. He glanced back at the computer screen but quickly closed out of
the application when he realised that the female archetype he had inadvertently
“created” bore an uncanny resemblance to Kate.

He turned back to Harry. “When do I get my own passcode?”

In the days that followed the charity ball, Kate kept herself
busy dealing with the fall-out. Such events were almost as difficult to handle
post as pre, due to having to deal with the money that had been donated and
pledged.  She was determined this time not to torture herself over the
mysterious Michael in the same way she had before. She had given him her number
and made it clear she would like to hear from him. It was up to him now whether
or not he contacted her.

When the call actually
came, it took her by surprise as it came to her office. It was a few moments
before she even registered that it was him, as his opening line was the common
one of confirming a charity payment. However, as soon as he thanked her and
said her name in his inimitable way, she knew. Her heart stuttered and she
almost dropped the phone.  Her mind urged her to say something to keep him
on the line, but her voice refused to function.

In the end, this didn’t
matter as she realised he hadn’t ended the call and was actually asking her if
he could take her out on Friday evening. She managed to falteringly accept and
before she knew it the phone call was over and she was mulling over his parting
request to “Wrap up warm.” This wasn’t a typical dinner date, then? Should she
try and ring him back and find out exactly what he had planned? Didn’t the man
realise how hard it was to dress for a first date, let alone be left without
any specific details about what they would be doing? Should she even expect to
be eating out? She sighed. She’d just have a snack beforehand and hope for the
best. After all, she’d be seeing him again and wasn’t that all that mattered?

Michael left the car at
the kerb and approached her flat. His heart was thumping like a teenager’s on
ball night. He berated himself. He was a 34 year old man for God’s sake, and
needed to get a hold on himself. He was long past the days when his hormones
had dictated his actions. Any relationship with this girl needed to be tightly
controlled. Surely that wasn’t impossible? He knocked at the door decisively,
disguising a lack of confidence that he hoped was transitory.

She did not keep him
waiting. He smiled when she opened the door, seeing only her face aglow with
the delight of his arrival. She was a wonder to him. He would never tire of
her. That sudden knowledge both shattered and augmented him. He then took in
her apparel. She was warmly dressed, as he had asked, in black leggings, thigh
length beige boots and a long angora sweater which hung unwittingly off one
shoulder, exposing translucent, beautifully freckled skin. She looked so young.
He visibly blanched and she took a step back in response.

 “Am I dressed
inappropriately?” she queried.

“Not at
all.”

“I’ll just grab my jacket,
then.” 

She ran inside and was not
long in returning. When she came back, he took her arm quickly, before he lost
his nerve, leading her to the car. He opened the door of his Aston Martin and
she settled herself into the passenger seat, appreciatively running a hand
across the leather interior then turning to him. “You’re sure, I’m dressed ok?”

He dared not look at her
when she asked such a question, for fear of revealing the force of his regard.
He started the engine and murmured, “You’re perfect.”

He realised she remained
insecure about her appearance when she started fidgeting. He turned to her in
the midst of his furious driving and repeated, “You’re perfect. Trust me.” He
grinned at her and touched the hand with which she gripped her seat. She
reciprocated with a smile that was half-terrified at the speed of their travel
and half-elated.

Their destination was not
far outside the city but, once they arrived, Kate felt like she had entered an
entirely different world. As Michael steered the car through the ornate gates
to the grounds of what was clearly a considerable estate, she queried. “Where
are we? You don’t live here do you?”

“I only wish!” laughed
Michael. “Wait and see.”

They drove further into
the estate, up a long gravel roadway dissecting dark tracts of field and
woodland. Fortunately the night was clear and crisp and the moon illuminated
their progress, as the roadway was poorly lit.

Kate gasped in amazement
when, following a curve in the road, the main house suddenly loomed ahead.
Well, ‘house’ was not an adequate description. This was a famous elegant 17th
Century mansion and she suddenly recognised where she was. “
Oxbury
Hall,” she breathed. “Is this now a hotel? Have you booked a room?”

Michael frowned at this.
“I’m not that forward on a first date!”

“I don’t think I would
have minded if you were,” she murmured, unashamedly. He must have heard this
for he glanced sharply at her.

He turned off the road,
away from the Hall, and into a large well-lit car park, surrounded by
magnificent fir trees. As he brought the car to a halt and turned off the
engine, he turned to her, a measure of sternness in his demeanour.

Before he had chance to
comment on her previous remark, however, she distracted him by exclaiming, “I
hear music!”

His face softened into a
smile at this. He released her seat-belt and said, “Let’s go and see where it’s
coming from shall we?”

He took her hand in his,
as he led her down a path through the trees. Kate’s heart fluttered at his
touch and as she glanced at his severe profile she wondered fleetingly why this
man, whom she hardly knew, had such a powerful effect on her. She only hoped
her heart was trustworthy, as she knew it was opening itself after a long
hiatus, like a flower unable to stop unfurling its petals to the sun. Well at
least tonight she’d have the opportunity to find out more about him.

As they walked the music
gradually filtered through the air more distinctly and she recognised it as
Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade, one of her favourite pieces. When the trees opened
out, she gasped in wonder at what she saw and tightened her hold. Michael
laughed and squeezed back. Turning to look into his smiling eyes, she knew his
pleasure was all for her. Surely he also felt the connection that sparked
between them?

Before her was the back of
the majestic Hall, turrets piercing the black night sky whose nebulous breadth
was punctuated by sparkling stars. Magnificent though it was, the Hall was not
what had taken her breath. At ground level was a string orchestra, playing from
an esplanade below the huge brightly lit windows of the Hall. A set of
spectacular stone steps led down to a vast expanse of unrelenting white: a lake
of ice. Whilst the orchestra played, couples and groups navigated the ice with
differing measures of success, some swooping by gracefully, others struggling
to maintain their balance.

She loosened her grip and
punched his arm playfully. “Aren’t you meant to be looking after me? What would
my father say if he knew you’d such risky recreation in mind?”

“I know of more dangerous
sports,” he returned, his eyes alight with a flirtatious gleam. Then he sobered
and said, “Don’t you worry. I’ll take good care of you.” With that, he led her
down to the far side of the lake where skates and access to the ice were available.

Kate was not a complete
stranger to ice-skating. Whilst initially she clutched hold of Michael, partly
as an excuse to maintain close contact and partly to pander to his male ego,
her feet soon betrayed their desire for freedom.

She drifted free of his
hold, gliding across the ice and as he caught up with her he reproached,
“Risky, huh? You’ve done this before!”

She turned easily and
laughed. He made to grab her arm but she deliberately avoided his reach and
dared, “Catch me.”  She pivoted and was gone.

She dashed across the ice.
Once she felt she’d gained some distance on him, she slowed and coasted
blissfully for some seconds. With her eyes closed, she gloried in the buzz of
blood in her veins, the burning rush of cold air against her cheeks and the
haunting music, floating into her ears and stirring her soul. This interlude
was interrupted when she felt someone jolt her arm. She opened her eyes quickly
enough but not in time to correct her now diverted course. She collided with
another skater, who staggered forward but managed to keep from falling, and
glared accusingly at her as he swiftly skated away. Whilst struggling gainfully
to stay upright herself, by wheeling her arms comically, Kate had too much
momentum and only managed to reverse the direction of her fall.

She braced herself for the
inevitable impact of her backside with the ice, but instead of hitting the
ground she found herself caught under the arms by a strong pair of hands and
propelled gently back to her feet. She automatically assumed Michael was her
rescuer, as he could not have been far behind her, but the voice she heard,
whilst one she instantly recognised, was certainly not his American brogue.

“
Whoah
!
Nearly had yourself a nasty fall there.”

She swung around quickly
in surprise. “Robert?” she queried.

 Her ex-fiancé
naturally looked older than when she’d last seen him but his looks had not
suffered for it, apart from a slight tightening around his eyes that may have
had more to do with this unexpected meeting than the passing of time. Before
she could say anything to him though, she stumbled slightly as her legs were
still shaky from her near accident.

Robert leaned out to catch
her again, but this time it was Michael’s hands she found clasping her and he who
prevented her fall. “It’s OK. I’ve got her this time,” he said.

 “A bit late for
that,” Robert berated scathingly. “You should take better care of your date.”

Michael frowned, as he
regarded the man who had stepped in and assisted Kate. He had been about to
thank him, but was not pleased by the insinuation that he was not looking after
her.

Kate quickly recognised
the tension between them and hastily broke in with, “It was my fault. I was
trying to outrun him.”

Robert’s face only
blackened at this. Michael didn’t fail to notice. He would have liked to
challenge this stranger’s effrontery but was anxious not to have the evening
spoilt.

He swallowed back an
atavistic reply and put out his hand instead, saying “It's a good thing you
were here. Thanks for saving her.” His words, though apologetic, seemed to
inexplicably crush the man. He looked down at the ground and mumbled, “I didn't
save her,” abruptly turning away from them.

Then, as if remembering
himself, Robert turned back to kiss Kate on the cheek, saying “Good to see you.
Take care,” with more emphasis than was normal in this conventional parting. He
moved off quickly as if suddenly impelled to get away, re-joining a group of
male companions.

“What was all that about?
You know that man?” Michael asked, although this last query was said more as a
statement than a question.

Kate sighed and leaned
into him. “Yes, although I haven't seen him in years. We were engaged at one
time.”

She looked up to see the
questions surfacing in his eyes. She asked her own question to ward off any of
his. “Can we get off the ice? I think I've had enough.”

“Sure,” he responded,
leading her back towards the exit.

As he helped her off with
her skates they were both silent, lost in their own thoughts. She knew he must
be curious to know more about Robert. She was contemplating whether to simply
volunteer further information.  But she knew opening that chapter of her
life could lead to other revelations she wasn’t strong enough to discuss.
However, it struck her that if their relationship was to have a future she
needed to trust him with the past. She was gathering up her courage to say
more, when he broke the silence first.

 “You don't have to
tell me anything about your past, Kate. It's clearly a painful subject. I'm
only interested in the present. I'm grateful to that man, if anything. Grateful
he caught you, but also grateful he let you go. I don't need to know more than
that.”

She understood the double
meaning in his words but was reluctant to leave him believing that Robert was
solely to blame for the end of their relationship. “We let each other go,” she
corrected. “I went through something that changed me.”

Tears began to well
uncontrollably in her eyes. She swiped at them in embarrassment. Michael put a
finger to her lips. “
Shhsh
,” he said. “Don't talk
about it if it upsets you.”

She took hold of his
finger and curled her fingers around his hand, holding it tight. “I want to
tell you,” she said. “You deserve to know. It's part of who I am. There's more
than what happened with Robert.”

Michael saw in her face
that she was determined to talk about it. He withdrew his hand from hers to
touch her cheek. “Well then,” he said. “Let me sit you down with a drink first.
I won't have you making some personal confession to me without some Dutch
courage and something to eat.”

He lifted her to her feet
and, as he led her away from the skating area, it suddenly occurred to her that
he'd mentioned food and drink. “So, are we going somewhere else?” she asked.