The Money Makers (73 page)

Happiness doesn’t come much better.

It was Saturday morning. He and Fiona had made love when they went to bed the night before, and again this morning when they woke up. Their lovemaking had become less passionate than it had been those first nights, first in Jamaica, then Vermont, then sporadically in New York. But Fiona the fiery had given way to something that Matthew preferred: Fiona the tender lover. She looked at him during sex and kissed him, and spoke to him with love.

‘You’re getting very middle-aged,’ said Matthew. ‘No nails gouging into my back, no rolling all round the room, no screaming. Not as much screaming, anyway. I think I’d better find a younger woman before you start going to bed with curlers in your hair.’

She bit him gently on the arm.

‘I can gouge you anytime. Doesn’t have to be during sex. Just say when and I promise to draw blood.’

She ran her fingernails across the plain of his stomach, leaving four parallel tracks etched in red. Matthew lifted her hand away and drew her closer.

‘Don’t worry. I can live without being gouged. I’m getting middle-aged myself, anyway. I used to think that any relationship which lasted more than a week was past its sell-by date. Now, I find myself planning where we’re going to go on holiday next year and where the year after that. I swear to you, before I know it, I’ll be thinking about which schools our kids should go to.’

And it was true. The fact was that Matthew was already thinking about engagement rings and weddings, kids and grandkids - everything once guaranteed to scare Fiona off for ever.

She turned over on her side, and her grey eyes stared into his. He brushed a long dark curl away from her cheek. Matthew had once judged his women’s beauty with a kind of ruthlessly detached objectivity. He really believed that men who claimed to have eyes for only one woman were either liars or low on testosterone. He had changed now. In his eyes, Fiona really was the most beautiful woman in the world.

‘And what have you decided about our holiday next year?’ she asked.

‘Mustique.’

‘And where the year after?’

‘Mustique again.’

‘And which school are our kids to go to?’

‘Eton or Winchester for the boys. Saint Paul’s for the girls.’

‘What makes you think we’re staying in this country? Perhaps I’ll want to return to my hog farming roots in Iowa.’

‘Well, in that case, I’ll get myself some gum boots and come tagging along to Iowa.’

‘You will? I expect I could make a decent hog farmer of you.’

They gazed at each other. This conversation wasn’t exactly like getting engaged, but by Fiona’s standards it was like agreeing to get surgically attached at the hip.

‘I’ve been thinking myself,’ she said.

‘That’s a first,’ he said, as she bit him again. They cuddled and played for a while. It was easy, tender, shared time.

‘Seriously, though,’ she resumed. ‘I think it’s time we made a change in our domestic arrangements.’

Matthew raised his eyebrows. She wasn’t going to propose to him, was she?

‘My little flat at the back of the house. Fortress Fiona. I haven’t slept there for a month and I realise I just don’t need it any more. I’d like us to share everything. That included.’

‘Hey, that’s wonderful. That’s absolutely wonderful.’ They kissed passionately and cuddled ever closer. Matthew’s happiness expanded another notch. He didn’t know life could be like this. This was the first time ever that Fiona had proposed a step forward in their mutual commitment. And giving up Fortress Fiona too. That was incredibly significant for her. Now she had nowhere to run away to, even if she wanted. Fiona was saying she no longer needed to run. As ever at times like this, there was fear in her eyes, but the fear was no longer her master, merely an annoying and lifelong companion, to be lived with not obeyed.

Matthew rocked her in his arms and was happy. In a few weeks, he’d have inherited his father’s millions. At this rate it wouldn’t be long before he got engaged to the woman he loved. What could be better?

‘So you agree?’ Fiona persisted.

‘Agree? Of course I do you nincompoop.’ It was Matthew’s turn to bite Fiona’s ear. She nuzzled him back.

‘Good. Well, we should do it properly. Your share of the flat is £100,000. And you’re a lucky man because I won’t charge you for all the improvements I’ve made.’

‘Yeah. Like fixing up a new shower curtain.’

‘Hey.
I had a fax line put in and two new plug points. So don’t quibble, or I’ll put the price up. Anyway, I guess you should be able to get the money together by the end of the week, in which case we can have a house-warming on Friday.’

In the warm bed, bathed in sunshine, Matthew grew cold.

Fiona meant it. To her orderly financial mind, a deal was a deal. You share the house, you pay your way. You don’t pay, you don’t share. And she was right about the timing, of course. Matthew could theoretically write out a cheque for her there and then. There wasn’t a problem with that. None at all, except that he wouldn’t be left with a million quid.

But he couldn’t tell her that. He couldn’t tell her the truth, because he’d be exposed as the worst kind of criminal in banking. He couldn’t borrow the money, because he was at his limit as it was. And he couldn’t pretend he didn’t have the cash because it was she who had given him his bonus. She knew he could afford it.

‘I’m not sure,’ he stuttered. ‘I might need a little longer.’

‘Why?
A week gives you masses of time.’ Fiona pulled away from Matthew, her body tense.

‘Fiona, please. It’s not like that. I’m keen to buy the flat. I just need some time to sort out the money.’

‘What do you mean? What precise exact steps do you need to take to get the money?’

Fiona was frozen on the edge of the bed, her voice high and brittle.

‘Just ... just it may take time. But there’s nothing to worry about. I want -’

But Matthew broke off. Fiona was out of bed now, getting dressed in a frenzy. She was shaking all over. This was the first time - the first time ever - she’d been the one to move the relationship forward on to a whole new level of commitment. And immediately, not waiting a day, not even a minute, Matthew was backing off. She recognised the signs. She had been a fool to trust him. She shouldn’t trust anyone ever; but especially not men. She had been cruelly hurt and rejected as a child and all her injuries flooded back, a tidal wave to smash anyone too slow to outrun it.

Fiona would do her best to outrun it. She’d do her best, even though the wave was inside her and could never be outrun.

‘Fiona, stop it!’

Still racked by violent shudders, she turned to him. ‘I swear to you,’ she said. ‘I swear that if you play games over this flat, then I’m leaving. I can’t handle it, Matthew. You know I can’t. I’m going back to New York, and I swear - I swear - I’ll never speak to you again. I knew I shouldn’t trust you. I knew I shouldn’t trust anyone.’ She was three quarters dressed now and was shoving clothes randomly into a bag.

‘Fiona, it’s OK. I’ll get the money. I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean anything. I’ll get the money to you right away. I want you. I love you. I want to live with you. I didn’t mean anything by what I said. It’s OK. No one’s betraying anyone.’

Matthew caught Fiona by both arms and forced her to sit beside him on the bed. Her body was still victim to huge surges of anxiety, but her breathing began very slowly to normalise. She let herself be held and forced herself to listen to Matthew’s voice. ‘No one’s betraying anyone. I’ll get the money. There’s no problem.’ She panted, recovering her breath.

‘You promise?’

‘I promise. There’s no problem.’

‘You’ll get the money?’

‘I’ll get the money.’

They sat a few minutes more.

‘I’m sorry to react like that. It’s just ... you know. It’s the first time I’ve ever ... you know, committed to someone. It felt like you were backing off.’

‘I’m not backing off.’

‘That’s good. But I do mean it about getting the money. I need it to feel OK. I know I’m nuts, but that’s how it is.’

‘That’s OK, sweetheart. I can write you out a cheque right now.’

And he did.

4

The garden of the Inner Temple is pleasant at any time of year, but maybe its best time is early summer, when the great plane trees are decked out in green and the garden blooms in youthful ignorance of drought, decay and season.

Josephine took a turn about the grounds before leaving. She wiped her eyes, wondering if her make-up had run, but not caring excessively. Her tears had surprised her. She had never had the gift of easy tears, but just when they were most needed, they came, softening the elderly lawyer’s heart. ‘I’m sorry, dear girl,’ he had said.

‘There are certain uncomfortable facts we simply can’t overcome.’ It was then she’d felt her rush of grief. Her father’s death, her mother’s illness, the meanness of two of her brothers and the outright contempt of one of them; all that plus the daily grind of earning a living, caring for her mother, keeping house on a tiny budget. Overwhelming her for a moment, her tears had come, and with them, charity. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said the lawyer, back-pedalling fast.

5

Val came into George’s office waving a purple and white envelope.

‘Mr Gradley?’

‘Yes, Miss Bartlett?’

‘You have a package from Oregon Furniture Incorporated.’

‘Thank you, Miss Bartlett. You may open it.’

She knew everything now. There hadn’t been any possibility of disguising things from her, not after the two totally unsurveyor-like surveyors had set everyone in the factory speculating about who they were and what they were doing. Val had confronted George and George had told her everything. He told her about the will, about why he had come to Gissings in the first place, about his brothers, about the conversation with Ballard which first opened his eyes to the possibility of selling Gissings. He told her about his meetings with Thurston and O’Shea. He even told her the truth about what he thought Oregon would do to Gissings.

Val had been angry with George’s deception at first, but she had sympathy for him too. Val was deeply attached to Gissings and she assumed that George had an equal or greater attachment to the company his father had founded. As she saw it, it was natural for George to do all he could to keep his father’s company in the family. They talked about what to do all evening and much of the next day.

A couple of weekends later, Josephine came up for a visit, bringing Helen, and the three of them discussed the problem while Helen watched intently, almost appearing to understand what passed. After a while, they came to a conclusion. Everyone was satisfied and the topic was dropped. They all knew what was to be done, so there was no need to worry further.

As Val ripped open the FedEx package, George raised his eyebrows.

‘What d’you reckon they’re offering then?’

She shrugged and passed him the contract while she skimmed the covering letter. They each found the crucial number at about the same time.

‘Well, well, well,’ he said. ‘Five million quid. And from the look of it, they haven’t dicked around with the contract too much either.’

‘Can they get the money to you in time?’

‘Oh sure. These guys are made of the stuff. That’s no problem.’

Val smiled at George. Her deep-set blue eyes were alight with humour and warmth.

‘Well, fancy you being worth five million,’ she said. ‘I’m certainly marrying up in the world.’

George tossed the contract down dismissively.

‘Don’t sell yourself cheap. Five million’s neither here nor there. Just wait until you’re Mrs Gradley Plant Hire Limited.’

Val smiled at her boss.

‘I have a favour to ask, Mr Gradley.’

‘Yes, Miss Bartlett, what is it?’

‘A minute of your time, please, Mr Gradley.’

‘By all means, Miss Bartlett.’

They drew together and kissed with passion.

6

Just one last thing to do, and that was to finish making his million. It had taken a while to arrange an exemption from the prenup, but everything had been sorted out in time. Sarah kept all her money in Hatherleigh Pacific shares, so she simply transferred a million pounds’ worth of shares into her husband’s name. That had been much more than Zack needed, but Sarah said he could keep the extra.

Zack called his stockbroker and gave instructions to sell all his newly registered shares. Altogether Zack would have around one and three quarter million pounds in his account.

The stockbroker read back Zack’s instructions for confirmation and promised to call back in a few minutes as soon as the trade had gone through.

Zack went to get a coffee, swung his feet on to his desk and gazed out of the window. He had a pile of work to get on with, but it could wait. A holiday. That was the first thing he needed: a proper holiday. Every break he’d tried to take with Sarah had been invaded by the long arm of Weinstein Lukes. Well, he didn’t need to worry so much now. With his share of his dad’s cash, he could think about quitting the firm, or perhaps stay for a few years, make it to partner and build up some cash of his own. And Sarah? He’d need to make up his mind. He couldn’t imagine life without her, but he still felt too young to be married. Probably he’d stay with her as long as he carried on enjoying it, and as long as she wasn’t talking about having kids. Kids he could live without.