From Humble Beginnings (Joe Steel) (8 page)

Her wry smile disappears. “She was in there, because her husband had died. Only, it turned out he wasn’t her husband, the man was a bigamist.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. You know Rebecca; she’s as weak as a kitten. She couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t get over her husband’s death and she had a breakdown. Bernard told me that she’d been in the centre for nearly a year by the time he went. For six months, he visited her and out of the blue, he married her. Took her out of there and installed her in his home. He’s a guardian, a protector more than anything else. He isn’t her husband. That’s for her stability. She’s safe and well cared for and while she’s still batty, because what happened really crossed her wires, she isn’t a wife.”

“You’re his wife.” I’m rather proud of my astute assumption, because the way Cass is talking; I can hear the passion in her voice, the need to defend the man she cares for.

Her features contort; her mouth twisting and her eyes narrowing. “In the ways that count, yes.”

“Didn’t it piss you off, when he married Rebecca?”

“No. She’s weak and needs support. I don’t. I’ve never wanted a formal arrangement with Bernard. We have an open relationship. But I don’t want to talk about that. That’s
my
private affair and not Bernard’s, which is the reason I’m telling you this.

“Juliet thought her mother was an angel that Bernard was the devil, because he was never there, because he never gave her any attention. In a way, she’s right. But Sara was no angel. Had she lived, she’d have grown ever more destructive.”

“It would be cruel to say that it was good timing, but it wasn’t exactly bad. Sara was a negative influence. Whatever she touched turned sour. Bo was too old not to realize what her mother was like and unfortunately, she was tainted a tad.”

“That’s hardly fair. She’s an artist, not the Antichrist.”

Cass snorts. “I don’t mean that. When she was Juliet’s age, she went through a similar destructive phase. Granted, that time was blended with her confusion over her sexuality, but Bernard shipped her off to rehab in Arizona, before the situation could worsen. He didn’t want her to turn into her mother. He’s old school; doesn’t approve of her being homosexual, but I think he prefers that to the alternative. Her going off the rail just like Sara did.

“Because Bo was affected by her mother, Bernard has gone out of his way to protect Juliet. I’ve told him for years that he was making it harder for himself, but the situation came to a head at the party and now, he’s dealing with it.”

“No. That’s bullshit.  Now he wants
me
to deal with it. Juliet isn’t some business deal. Some transaction that can be passed off to one of his minions. He should tell her this. Not me.”

“He won’t. He’s still trying to protect her even though she’s obviously bitter at what she believed happened.” Cass leans forward, moving out of her earlier position of legs neatly crossed and back relaxed into the chair. “You’ll have to tell her; especially if you want to get anywhere with her. Only God knows what skewiffed tak
e she has on relationships! Her father brings in another wife months after her mother dies and all the while, he’s having an affair with his PA? I know how bad it looks, Joe. I know why she hates me; I don’t like it but I can understand. I’d do it myself, but she wouldn’t listen. The resentment is too deep. She’s too far gone to listen to me.”

“You make her sound like a hopeless case!”

“Where this is concerned she is. She might be an adult, but where her father is concerned, she’s still a little girl.”

“I didn’t realize you were an amateur psychologist, Cass!” My retort is sharp and is paired with the sound of my chair squeaking as I push away from my desk and stand up. Turning my back to her, I stare out the window and look down on to London. Grey, bleak London. With its grey roads and black clouds, the concrete jungle isn’t the most picturesque of sights.

“I’m not,” she says, obviously annoyed at my sarcasm. “I’m just using my common sense. Bernard has asked you to do this for him; to help him. After all he’s done for you; I don’t think he’s asking much.”

Before I could batten down my exasperation enough to form a pair of words to string a sentence together, I hear her heels clicking against the floor and by the time I swing around, she’d left and was in the outer office.

Not wanting to call her back, I retreat to my desk chair and try to come to terms with the emotional blackmail. I hate getting involved with shit of this nature. Emotions are convoluted and irrational; I prefer statistics and facts to something ephemeral. That the responsibility for breaking Juliet’s beliefs about her obviously beloved mother falls on my shoulders truly infuriates me.

With my mood at rock bottom, I stab the standby button and get to work.

Maybe after a few hours hard graft, I’ll feel better.

It was doubtful, but a man could hope.

***

“It was nice of you to invite me out for lunch, Joe.”

Dressed to impress as she is in a silk sheath that clings to every curve, my body is regretting the innocence of last night. My damn fool arousal isn’t hampered by the real reason for my inviting her to eat with me today. I’d intended to all along, but Cass’ reason for visiting me this morning has put a shadow over what I’d hoped to be a relaxing meal.

Do I tell her now? Get it out of the way? Or do I leave it until I get back?

The latter seems like an excuse, but who could blame me?

It’s not the best dinner conversation in the world. But at the same time, she’s truly affected by all of this. Was Cass correct, when she said that it would affect our relationship?

Feeling like Damocles with the sword hanging over my head, I smile at her and reach for her hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

I’ve never been touchy feely; it’s not in my nature. Yet another manifestation that has appeared out of nowhere.

Within the month, I’ll probably be wearing pink shirts and striped cotton candy ties. Inwardly snorting at the idea, I let my fingers curl into hers. “I enjoyed last night.”

Her left eyebrow quirks up in surprise. “Really? You enjoyed getting news about your divorce?”

I shrug. “It was inevitable; Brook just beat me to it. I enjoyed being with you, is what I mean.”

“I find that hard to believe,” she says with a smile. A touch of mischief playing about her lips, almost as though she can believe how difficult it was for me to be in the same bed as her and to curb my instincts.

“Well, there were better things we could have been doing,” I admit, honesty in every word. “I won’t lie. But still, if that’s a way for us to meet and for us to relate, then I’m your willing victim.”

“Do you really see us going somewhere, Joe?”

Her earnestness touches me. “Yes. It terrifies me, but I do. I think, when it boils down to it, we’re one of a kind.” 

Her fingers tighten about mine. “I’m glad. Now, what’s the real reason you invited me for lunch? You’ve never done it before.”

“Am I really that obvious?”

“No. But you’re incredibly tense. What’s going on?”

“It was always my intention to invite you out today. But it’s got side-tracked.”

“Why?”

“Cass came to see me today.”

I watch as the softness about Juliet’s features turns into stone. Any gentle emotion of hope, passion, need, or love disappears at the sound of the other woman’s name.

“Whatever she said, don’t believe it. She’s a slut; she slept with my father to get where she is today. What kind of woman does that? A trustworthy one?”

“What is it about her that turns you into a real bitch, Juliet? It doesn’t suit you.”

“Who are you to judge what does or doesn’t suit me? And how can you even ask why? My father is having an affair with her; not only is that entirely wrong…”

I interrupt, “Who says it’s wrong? They’re two consenting adults, Juliet. It’s not illegal. Bernard is leaving himself wide open for a sexual harassment case, if and when he pisses Cass off, but that’s his prerogative.

“You’re obviously not ready to hear the truth. You’re too busy reverting to type, being the little girl that your daddy has always cosseted. It’s blinding you to the facts.”

Juliet’s mouth turns stubborn, her soft lips firming and turning white with pressure. “If you’re going to be like that, then I don’t want to have lunch with you.”

“Little girls run away. Big girls don’t hide from the truth,” I chide. “And I’m not being anything. She told me something that came from your dad. And you know how that goes. From Bernard’s mouth to your ears; he’s like God! He wanted you to know, but he doesn’t know how to tell you. So he’s left it up to me.”

Juliet swallows. “What did he tell you?”

“You’re not denying then that you make it difficult for him to share things with you?”

“He’s my father; it upsets me that he has to go through intermediaries to share personal inf
ormation with me.” She takes in a deep breath. “It’s a gut reaction, Joe. As soon as I think about him with anyone but my mother, even in a non-sexual way, it just gets my back up. They think I don’t know about my mother. They must think I’m stupid.

“I know she died, because she was hammered and crashed into a bloody tree. They must think I can’t read the papers. What hurts is that things could have been different. It didn’t have to be that way, but dad, and his business, was all important. Nothing else mattered, not even my mother. The time he gave to that whore, he could have doted upon his wife. It isn’t fair. I lost her, before I even had a real chance to know her.”

It was difficult being careful in this situation, especially when I feel as though I’m in possession of butterfingers. She’s looking at me, pleading with me to agree or to disagree, I’m not sure which. She needs my help, I know that. I just wish I knew how to give her it.

“We all make mistakes, Jules. That’s life. I’m sure your father regrets the mistakes he made in the past, especially those in regard to your mum. But you can’t punish him for the rest of his life.”

“I’m not punishing him. I just have nothing to say to him. Especially when he wants to make choices in my life, when he has no right to do so. He funds my existence and I appreciate that, but I’d be just as happy studying for my degree and working. A friend’s father offered me some part-time work in one of his accounts departments. Dad wouldn’t even let me get the words out.” She shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about this. Just tell me what that bitch said.”

I study her, see the bitterness on her face, the sadness in her eyes at the state of her relationship with her father and sigh. “No.”

“No? Now what?”

“No, I won’t tell you what
Cass
said.”

“I thought that was the whole idea behind this lunch.”

I shrug. “Maybe it was, but now it isn’t. There are two sides to every story, Juliet. Maybe you need to think about that before you’re ready to hear the truth. Now, in a couple of days’ time, I’m going to Milan. Your father’s bought a factory over there and Cass and I are going out to get the lay of the land. When I get back, you can invite me over to your place and we’ll talk. I was never going to tell you in the middle of a restaurant, but I wanted to see how you’d handle it. And you handled it just the way I thought you would.” With a shake of my head, I disentangle my fingers from hers. “We can’t have a relationship if you’re still stuck in the realms of childhood, Juliet. I’ll call you when I arrive in Milan and then, when I get back. Take care of yourself.”

Now, I know I’ve just pulled a huge gamble. And it could sink or swim, depending on Juliet’s reaction. She hasn’t started screeching at me, hasn’t started calling me a bastard for all the world to hear, she just hasn’t said anything. Nor has she done anything.

She just lets me walk away.

As a man who previously wouldn’t give a damn, analysing why Juliet has done just that is concerning.

I’ve never analysed my own actions with a woman before, because as harsh as it sounds, I’ve never given a damn. I’ve done what I’ve wanted, fulfilled the bargain, which is usually dinner at a posh restaurant and a bauble or two in way of payment for a heavy night of debauchery.

And now, I’m in unchartered territory.

Have I just fucked up the best thing that has ever happened to me?

Possibly.

I’ve one word for that.

Bollocks. 

Feeling unglued and unstuck by the sight of Juliet’s tears wasn’t the way I’d have liked to leave England.  After our last meal together, I hadn’t seen much of her.  She’d called me a couple of times, ostensibly to chat, but I was aware of the real reason for her calls. 

And God help me but it had made me jealous!

I’d been the one to use the information Cass had fed me as bait; it had been instinctive to hold the truth from her.  Mostly for her own sake.  I’d hoped that it would make her a tad more receptive to her father and Cass’ tale.  It had worked.  She was desperate to know and now, I was envious because I wasn’t at the centre of her thoughts. 

Christ, what a mean-spirited bastard I am.

Staring out of the window, my eyes blur into blindness at the seemingly endless expanse of clouds and sky before me.  For once, it was blue.  Not grey.  And it seemed ironic that I was leaving the UK, when the weather had hit a mini heat wave only for me to be toddling off to foreign climes. 

I hadn’t expected Juliet to follow me to the airport.  Had said goodbye to her the night before on the phone and had made plans to meet up the next time I was back on British soil.  So, spying her sprinting towards me as I was on the brink of checking in had come as a great shock. 

Dressed in baggy sweats and a wrinkled T-shirt, she’d hardly looked her best but still that something that linked me to her went into overdrive.  Describing it like a burning heat in the belly makes her effect on me sound like indigestion.  Hardly complimentary.  But it’s anything but.  It ignites every nerve ending in my body, wakes me up, and shakes me alive.  I’ve never felt that before; never imagined that it even existed. 

Our connection, be it real or part of my imagination, hadn’t been on Juliet’s mind.  Her father had. 

She hadn’t even stopped to glare at Cass as was usually her way.  Instead she grabbed me by the arm and tugged me away from Business Class check in. 

“Please, tell me what you know, Joe,” she’d pleaded, her eyes tearing up and lower lip quivering. 

Had I not known her for as long as I have, I would have thought she was playing up to me.  Trying to get her own way.  But at the back of her eyes, Juliet wasn’t the adult I knew, but the young girl I’d once known.  The complex relationship with her father skewed Juliet’s perceptions in ways that I hadn’t accounted for; I knew that she was bitter about Bernard, that she had issues with him.  But I hadn’t realized it was to this extent. 

“I don’t have time, Juliet.  I’m sorry, honey,” I’d added, feeling guilty for causing her such distress.  I’d intended to make her listen; for her to be open to the idea of her father not being an ogre.  Instead, I’d upset her. 

“Please.  I really need to know.” Her hands had dropped all contact with me as soon as I’d stood twenty feet away from the check in gate.  At that point, they’d reached for mine and clung.  She was begging with her words and her body. 

Sighing, I’d dropped my briefcase and tucked her into my arms.  While she was a tactile person, she never had been with me before.  Not until that night we’d spent together.  It was a
shock to feel her burrow into my arms, desperately seeking comfort.  This was another facet of her character that I’d never known existed. 

I’d believed her to be a studious young woman; intent on her own future and not content to lead the life her father chose for her.  I’d heard her shout at Bernard; demand he accept her for what she was and what she wanted.  I was used to the still-growing lioness, who could and would defend herself.  With claws if the situation held merit. 

I wasn’t accustomed to the cub. 

The child still locked away in Juliet’s subconscious, who hadn’t been allowed to grow thanks to her issues.  Many would say that she was a poor little rich girl.  But knowing how independent she was and what she wanted out of life, no one could class her as
poor
.  More than anything, she was lost.  And unwittingly, I’d contributed to that feeling.  Led her down paths that had further entangled her in the past and I hadn’t had the time to set that right. 

Pressing my lips to her brow, I’d murmured in her ear, “Juliet, as soon as I get back, we’ll talk.  It isn’t something I can
rush.  Something I can just quickly talk about.  Come and visit me in Milan? That way we could chat sooner. ”

I’d made the suggestion, hoping she’d take to the idea.  Our airline tickets were open-ended; I didn’t know when I’d be back in London and this situation, one of my own making, needed to be hashed out.  Not only that, I wanted to see her again. 

From taking that step into accepting how I felt for her, the idea of being away from her for an extended period of time didn’t and still doesn’t set well with me. 

“As soon as I’m completely finished at uni, I’ll visit.”

Muttered against my jumper, I nearly didn’t hear her with the sounds of the bustling airport almost drowning out her diminished voice. 

“Don’t hate me for making you wait.”

She’d pulled away from my arms at that and shook her head.  “No.  I’m not stupid, Joe.  I know why you did it and it worked.”  Her eyes had glanced over to the check in gate where Cass undoubtedly stood, waiting for me before she herself had done the checked in.  There was less scorn hidden within the depths, a touch more confusion and that vulnerable look that told me she still felt lost. 

I’d wanted to wrap her in my arms again, ground her.  Tell her she’d never be lost again.  I did nothing.  Just stood there as she reached up on tiptoes to brush her lips against mine and then disappeared into the crowd. 

“What did Juliet want? I didn’t take her as being one for melodramatic goodbyes!”

Cass’ voice broke into my thoughts and my prolonged stare into the vast bleakness of the sky.  “She isn’t.  She wanted to talk to me.”

“About what? Couldn’t it have waited? You’ll only be on the plane for a couple of hours.  She has your mobile number.  It isn’t like she can’t afford the charges!”

Cass’ scorn irritates me.  “She wanted to know about her father’s relationship with you.”

I wait a beat; feel the silence grow tenser as she processes that.  When it comes, her astonishment is almost amusing.  “You still haven’t told her?”

“No.”

“Why not?” she spits and I turn my head in time to see her glare at the air hostess who pours us glasses of fresh orange juice. 

“Don’t take it out on the staff.” Cocking a brow as that glare wings its way to me, I hide a grin.  “That poor stewardess isn’t to blame.”

“No, you are, you moron.  Why haven’t you told her yet? I thought this would all be out of the way now!”

“How receptive do you think Juliet was to the idea of her father not being the man she’s painted him all these years?” My conversational tone has her eyes flashing at me again.  Cass is an at
tractive woman and with her dander up and her control gone, I wonder why she’s settled for Bernard, when she could have had any man.  I’m not stupid enough to ask that question, so I merely wait for her to reply.

She sighs.  “Not very.”

That sigh contains my victory.  “Exactly.  She wouldn’t have believed anything I’d said, especially as she doesn’t trust the source.  Reverse psychology, Cass.  I might not have gone to university, but they don’t have manipulation as a degree.”

Grimacing, I admit to myself that I hated the necessity of having to manipulate Juliet.  I dislike being placed into the position where it was imperative.

If Bernard wasn’t a man I respected, if he wasn’t my boss, then I’d have told him to tell Juliet himself. 

“I guess it’s a good sign then, that she followed you here?”

My shrug is my answer.  “God knows.”

It’s either a good sign or one that shows Juliet will have to visit a psychiatrist to fix my meddling. 

The flight was mundane, boring really.  Cass buried herself in papers and while I had my own to study; my concentration was limited.  I kept seeing those beautiful exotic eyes of Juliet’s, the emerald hue glinting even brighter in the harsh overhead lights as her tears illuminated their perfect shade. 

Guilt never has sat well with me.  And my silence was for that reason alone.  As we landed, disembarked from the plane and gathered our luggage together, I did it without uttering a word.  Cass made comments now and then; mostly about the incompetence of some of the airline or the ground staff; as we had to wait on the tarmac for a discomforting length of time.  If Britain was glorying in its heat wave, then Italy was melting in its own. 

She didn’t expect me to reply to her grumbles and I let her bitch on.  I eventually spoke as we broached the arrivals gate.  “Are we hiring a car? How are we getting to this place?” 

“Bernard purchased the factory owner’s complete estate.  Complete with villa, staff and a car.  I’ve arranged for the driver to collect us.”

“Good.  I don’t fancy getting lost.” We’d taken a late flight; so we’d already put in a full day at work and now, had however long it took to get to our accommodation.  I, for one, am relieved that I don’t have to drive anywhere.  Especially not in the steadily growing darkness.  I’d probably get lost and wouldn’t that be the perfect end to a long and shitty day? 

“There should be someone waiting for us outside with our names on a sign.”

Towing my luggage and Cass’, I let her lead and follow the click-clack of her steps.  How the woman thought it sensible to travel in five-inch stacked heels is anyone’s guess.  Unlike myself, who had changed into a sweater and jeans back at the office, she’s still dressed in her battle armour.  Tight pencil skirt and bright red shirt, combined with a tailored jacket and those heels that make my own feet weep. 

Thankful for my comfy gear, I manoeuvre through the madcap crowd of relatives greeting each other with loud smacking kisses and voluble words of welcome.  Eventually, Cass comes to a standstill and she points to a man holding a sign.  “There.”

“Christ, I feel like I’ve just walked a marathon.” She ignores my complaint, because Malpensa was surprisingly large and we’d just wandered through what felt likes scores of loquacious families, all determined to get in our way and make bypassing them difficult.

Cass waves at the driver, who in no way looks like a chauffeur.  Even 100% straight as I am, I’ll admit the man is model material.  Either that or he belongs on a billboard somewhere, advertising his latest movie. 

And that suit of his. . .

I narrow my eyes at it.  Recognizing it as one I’d just seen back in Heathrow in a Prada store. 

How the hell had he managed to afford that?

With a frown, I reach for Cass as she made to continue.  “What’s that suit about?”

“He’s Italian, Joe,” Cass dismisses.  “It’s in their DNA to dress well.”

“I wasn’t asking that.  I was asking how he could afford that kind of gear on a driver’s pay packet.  Christ, look into his salary; if he can afford that, Bernard is paying him too much.”

“He might have saved up for it,” she counters with a glare and continuing to ignore me, wanders over to the man. Who, standing at his side, has a woman that is almost a perfect match? 

Dressed head to toe in Fendi, a bright purple skirt clinging to her legs and hips teamed with a bronze tunic, she looks as though she’s ready to take a step on the catwalk. 

Is this a parallel universe?

Who the hell is she?

While designer clothes are more than accessible to the public, my well-trained eye can see that these togs aren’t from any pret á porter line.  They’re couture.  Every expensive stitch screams it.  

“Benvenuti a Milano,” the woman murmurs, stepping forwards to greet us.   “I’m Clordina and this is Angelo.  I’m your translator and this is your chauffeur.”

Making our introductions, we soon set off for the car and I’m not surprised to see a Porsche Cayenne cooling its heels in one of the parking slots; looking like a tamed lion amidst the rest of the pussycats of Fiats and Fords.  No wonder the previous owner had gone bust; with spending like this to account for!

As silent as I am, perhaps it’s only natural that I spot the undercurrents before anyone else.  Within seconds of having been introduced and beginning the walk to the car, Clordina drifts away from Angelo, leaving him with Cass and focusing her attention on me.

“Did you have a good flight, Joe?” I’d requested that she drop the formalities.  My language skills are non-existent, although Cass does speak some Italian, so Clordina and I will undoubtedly be spending a lot of time together. 

Something I don’t think Clordina would be averse to.  Having handed the luggage over to Angelo, with relief I might add as well as regret for wearing a jumper when I should have worn a T-shirt, Clordina takes that as an invitation to link arms. 

Feeling as though I’ve missed a beat, I say nothing to make her separate herself from me, even though it’s too damned hot to be linking on to anyone!

“It was okay.  Thanks for asking.” Not only am I not in the mood to talk, I’m not in the mood to watch her flutter her eyelashes at me. 

Okay, that sounds big-headed.  But I get the feeling that Bigfoot could have walked through those gates and she’d have started flirting with him.