Circles - chapter 5

 

Chapter 5

 

 

 

Clive Bridewell neatly folded up his copy of The Times and placed it on the table. He checked his watch.  It was 10.30; time to be on his way.

        “I’m off now darling,” he shouted as he snatched the windcheater from it’s hook in the hallway.

        “Have a good game,” Joan hollered back from the top of the stairs

        Clive drove through the gates of the ostentatious golf club. He parked among the impressive collection of cars and removed his clubs from the boot.

        “Hello Major,” he greeted the Club Captain as he entered the clubhouse. Saying goodbye to the two elderly gentlemen he had been talking to, the moustached Major marched briskly towards the newcomer. A tall man, he stood erect to attention as he stopped in front of Clive.

        “Hello Clive. Splendid day eh? Have we got your entry for the Club Tournament?”

        “You’ll have it in the next few days.”

        The Major raised a thin hand and ran it through the thick mop of ginger hair. His blue eyes peered down at Clive.

        “Good show. Haven’t seen much of you recently old chap. Glad to see you again!”

        “No. I’ve been rather busy of late,” Clive replied tamely. He knew damn well that every member of the club; especially the Major, was aware of his recent misfortunes. His resignation as Managing Director at Perris Group had been reported in nearly all of the national newspapers. They had keenly followed events as his clash with the Chairman had led to major disagreements and conflicting views of the company’s future policy. The ensuing boardroom battle had become nasty and public, leaving his position untenable.

        His reputation as a trouble-shooter had been built on the miraculous turn-arounds he had performed at his two previous companies. Although not as important as Perris, he had nursed them along and left them both in profitable positions.

        He had been welcomed as the saviour of the ailing giant and given carte blanche to run things as he felt necessary, with no interference from the Board.

        Two years into his reign things began looking remarkably rosier for Perris. His restructuring had seen the new slim line company pick up and start to recover losses. 

In the three years Clive had been at the helm of Perris, he had transformed them from being a major national in serious financial difficulties to a company that would soon reclaim its former position as a healthy, leading corporation.

        However, just as he thought the future looked assured, things had started to go wrong. The Chairman, anxious to maintain his position at the head of the Board, had pushed for accelerated growth. Clive had disagreed; the time was not right. The company still needed to consolidate before further growth could be achieved. The shareholders would be better off to wait, forsaking immediate profits on shares for a greater reward in the future. But the Chairman had won over the shareholders with his promise of incredible profits and had given Clive two options, do as ordered or resign.

        It had been a hard decision to make. A decision he had been reflecting on for six months. Six long months, that was how long it had taken him to secure another position. During that period, he had seen Perris’ shares climb whilst his own finances had diminished.

        The strain on Joan had been great. One minute she had been the wife of the man that ran one of the largest companies in Britain with all the trappings such a position brought; the next she had found her husband was just another one of the three million jobless.

        Throughout the whole trying ordeal, she had put on a bold front and tried to continue life as though this was just another temporary setback. As he had been turned down for post after post, she had smiled bravely and pledged her support.

        Thankfully, the children were old enough to look after themselves. Only Valerie still lived at home. They had not noticed any change of lifestyle and had continued with their lives unaffected by the whole incident - once again due to Joan’s determination not to let this catastrophe ruin the home she had built up through the years.

        “Well we’re glad to have you back. Make sure I get your entry soon!” the Major ended, gave him a firm handshake, spun round and joined another group.

        Clive made his way to the bar, conscious of the eyes that were watching his every move.

        “Hello Mr Bridewell. Usual is it sir?” the elderly barman asked politely.

        “Please Tom,” he replied as he sat down on the barstool.

        The barman picked up a crystal glass and cleaned it with a cloth. He reached behind the bar for a bottle, poured a large scotch and placed it in front of Clive who took a large slug of the warming liquid and turned round to face the door.

        After five minutes and two further scotches, Sir Gordon appeared. He spotted Clive at the bar and made his way towards him.

 

 

 

Robert inserted the key into the lock and opened the door quietly. He was certain that Stella wasn’t home. She never finished work before five unless she had arranged so beforehand. Nevertheless he moved cautiously through the flat. When he was sure that Stella was not lurking anywhere, he relaxed.

        Moving back into the bedroom, he opened the top drawer of the dressing table. Lifting the small pile of papers, he removed the two fifty pound notes, slipped them into his back pocket and shut the drawer.

        Now that the notes were safely out of sight, Robert-returned to the living room. He fixed himself a drink and lit a cigarette. It was four minutes past four. The last race was off at 4.30. It would only take five or so minutes to walk up to Ladbrokes.

        As he took a sip of the gin, he found himself smiling. He had just acted as though he was stealing the money. Why should he have any feeling of guilt? After all it was his money. He could have walked in, regardless of Stella and just picked it up and gone out again, yet he had been afraid to be discovered.

        The feeling of doubt crept slowly back into his head. Already today he had lost £500, taking the total squandered this week to £1600. All that remained of his funds were the two fifty pound notes. His last hope of recouping some of his losses was Dashing Hussar, favourite for the 4.30 race. If it won at the price he anticipated, he would have enough to stake himself for the next couple of days; provided he didn’t back too heavily.

        Robert looked at the small picture of Stella on top of the television. Since she had first called round to the flat over a month ago, things had gathered momentum at a speed that still astounded him.

        Every night she had returned to the flat after leaving work. For three weeks Stella had still kept her own expensive flat in Jericho, returning only for clothes or music she had left behind.

        Robert had welcomed her presence. It hadn’t taken long for him to realize that despite whatever doubts he’d had initially, he wanted and needed Stella with him.

After three weeks, they both knew they wanted to be together. Stella had given up her flat and moved all her things into his place. She hadn’t tackled him yet on the subject of money or work, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he would have to come clean. It was something he’d rather not contemplate.

        He gulped down the last of the gin and rose from the pine rocker. He’d better leave now or he’d miss the off. Without allowing himself time for second thoughts, he checked his pocket and opened the door.

 

 

 

When Stella arrived home, Robert was not in the flat awaiting her as usual. After taking a quick shower, she returned to the living room and made a nice hot mug of coffee. She sauntered across to the stereo and flicked through Robert’s albums. Her fingers stopped as she found Anita Baker’s ‘Rapture’.

        The first song began as she eased herself into the armchair. The peach coloured silk camisole rode above her knees as she drew her legs to her body and wrapped her arms around herself.

        As the music filtered across the room, she realized just how calm the flat was. Ever since their first night together, she had known she would be visiting Robert regularly. Now four weeks later they were living together.

        She heard the front door opening. Disturbed from her thoughts, she looked up to see Robert carrying two bags of Chinese food. Grinning at her, Robert raised the bags aloft.

        “I’ve given the cook the night off.”

        As he placed the contents on the table, his eyes caught sight of her bare legs and travelled upwards.

        “And just as well,” he said walking slowly towards her, “I wouldn’t want him to see any of this!’

        His face descended on her breasts and his hand slipped under the silken barrier to her nakedness.

 

 

 

Stella had put on a gown and was eagerly opening the foil containers. The intensity of their lovemaking had left her decidedly hungry. As she placed fried rice onto a plate, she called out to Robert who was showering.

         “Emma and Matthew have invited us to dinner.”

        Robert emerged from the bathroom busily drying his hair.

         “You mean I’m going to get the chance to meet another member of the illustrious Bridewell dynasty?” he joked.

         “Dadda can’t afford private detectives, so Emma’ll give you the once over,” Stella quipped, placing both dishes on the table.

        Robert threw the towel on the armchair and replaced his glasses. Taking his seat, he picked up a chicken ball from the plate with his fingers. He dropped it quickly as the metal spoon rapped him squarely on the knuckles.

         “If I bring you along, then I’ll expect you to use cutlery!” she reproached teasingly, and took the seat opposite.

        Armed with the correct utensils, Robert proceeded to attack the food. Stella shook her head in dismay as he chomped away noisily.

        “Makes a change from my cooking doesn’t it?” he said pointing the fork at the huge mound of food on his plate.  “Anyway, I thought you didn’t get on with Emma?” he said in between mouthfuls.

         “We get on alright. It’s just that we get on each other’s nerve after a while. When we’re apart, we’re the best of friends. We just live our lives differently,” she tried to explain.

        Her thoughts ran back to the month she had lived with Emma. It had been a nightmare. After a week they had started their inevitable spats because of Emma and her stupid rules. Stella recalled the night things had finally reached boiling point; then quickly tried to erase the memory from her mind. She didn’t want to be reminded of anyone making love to her except Robert. She stared across at him and wondered if he knew how much he meant to her.

         “Will she have to report back to mater and pater then?” he joked.

         “She’s only invited us to Sunday dinner. Anyway, what Emma thinks shouldn’t bother you’. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be with you,” she replied sharply.

        Robert looked up, shocked by the anger in her voice. His harmless joke seemed to have hit a nerve.

         “Stella, I won’t come between you and your family will I?” he asked quietly.

         “As a matter of fact, I think you and Emma will get on like a house on fire. She’s bound to like you once she meets you. And I’m sure that applies to all my family,” she replied, the fire now gone from her voice. She wished she hadn’t flown off the handle so easily. She didn’t want him to ask any awkward questions just yet.

         “It’s just that I don’t want to mess anything up for you. If you think it’ll be a problem, say so. I’d rather we ended before getting into something doomed to failure. I’ve been there before.”

        Now I’ve done it she thought. He’s going to ask me about mumma and dadda. “Knowing Emma, she’s skint and wants someone to share the cost of the meal. She’ll probably arrange for us to go shopping for all the ingredients.” She reached across and found his hand, “Nothing will come between us,” Stella assured him.

        Robert looked across at her and studied her face. Something in her voice troubled him. A quick premonition of danger flashed through his brain. It took only a moment to pass; yet the uneasy feeling unnerved him. Slowly placing his fork on the plate, he made up his mind. It was time he told her.

         “You’ve asked me about Laura before. I think I’d better tell you about her,” he said cautiously.

        Pouring two glasses of wine, he began to tell her the story of Sharon and Laura.

 

 

They had met casually through a workmate. Robert hadn’t been particularly struck by her, but Sharon had pursued him doggedly and finally they had started going out together. From the start he had known that nothing would come of this ill-fated relationship.

 

        Stella picked at her food as she listened to his brief unemotional description of Sharon.

 

        She was plain looking, of average intelligence and from a working class background. She (like Stella) had come to Oxford to find employment.

        During their time together, he had often been with other women. Robert made it clear that he had felt no guilt about that. He had tried to end the affair on numerous occasions, only to yield as she cried and declared her love for him. Not wanting to hurt her, he had allowed the relationship to drift along. Besides, she was generous with her money and pandered to his every whim, and he knew he was on to a good thing. Eventually Sharon had fallen pregnant.

        At twenty-two, Robert had found himself facing fatherhood. Any thoughts he had of ending things were delayed as he looked forward to the birth of his child; proof of his manhood. Yet he knew he did not love Sharon.

        When Sharon had gone to be with her sister in the early stages of pregnancy, it seemed that a chance to finish it had been presented him. Robert had not gone with her. Finally, it seemed the whole thing was over. Whenever Sharon tried to contact him, he had coldly rejected her attempts. Now that they were apart he was glad he didn’t have to participate in something that he truly didn’t want.

        He had quickly fallen for another woman. She had been so unlike Sharon. This other woman - Linda - was pretty and clever. Everything between them was great. He guessed he had really loved her. He had soon put Sharon out of his mind in the company of Linda.

        When Linda’s work had taken her abroad, he had received the odd letter and postcard from her, but without regular con tact he had felt that things were over between them.

        He began to wonder about the impending birth of his child. One day at work he had written to Sharon. Slowly they had become friends again. Before he knew it, they were in touch daily. 

        He became anxious for news of her progress, and openly welcomed the arrival of his child. He even arranged to join Sharon on the birth of the baby.

        Two weeks before the baby was due to be born, a letter from Linda had arrived telling him that she was pregnant! Afraid to tell him, she had kept the discovery to herself until she was sure. When she had finally come to terms with her shock, she had decided to tell him, hoping he would be as pleased as she now was.

        Robert had almost died when he had read the letter. He knew he loved Linda and wanted to be with her, but having promised to get back with Sharon, how could he let her down again?

        Robert was torn between the two. The choice had not been easy, yet it took him only a short while to make a decision.

        When Laura was born, he greeted the news joy fully. It had taken three weeks after her birth before he finally got away and was re-united with Sharon.

        The pain of losing Linda had been dulled the very moment he had set eyes on Laura. A beautiful girl, nothing had pleased him more.

 

        Robert paused to refill his now empty glass. He looked at Stella and saw the loathing in her eyes. Taking a sip, he cleared his throat and continued.

 

        They had returned to Oxford when Laura was six months old, and moved in with his mother.

        He had developed a strong relationship with Laura. His daughter had probably been the first person he had truly loved above himself and he had worshipped her.

        Robert had found a job and things looked set for the future as he was quickly promoted. Anxious to secure the future for his family, Robert realized they needed a place of their own. Despite his job title, his wages were nowhere near enough to obtain a mortgage with the exorbitant prices of houses in Oxford. However, with the help of the owner of the company, he had falsely attained a mortgage.

        A month after they had moved into their new house, their world had caved in around them. Robert had learned his future with the company was uncertain. In a fit of rage, he had destroyed the account of a personal friend.

        When the auditors appeared, the discrepancy had been discovered. Robert had been asked to resign. The next day he received a letter from the building society informing him his mortgage was being foreclosed, and if he resisted, he would be brought to court as a result of his false declarations on the application form. His former employer had certainly exacted his revenge.

        Later on that day, two detectives from Oxford CID had called on him. He was taken to the police station and charged with false accounting.

        When he was released from prison three months later, Sharon and Laura were no longer in Oxford.

 

The ashtray was full of cigarette butts and the bottle of wine lay empty. The cold Chinese meal remained uneaten on both plates as Robert finally finished.

        Wearily, he got to his feet and fetched another packet of cigarettes from his coat pocket.

        Stella shook her head in disbelief as Robert ended his monologue. And to think that she had thought that he was the safe one! Now he had just calmly told her of his criminal record. Christ, what have I got myself into she thought.

        She stubbed out the cigarette and raised herself from the armchair. She had to be alone, needed time to think things out for herself.

         “I’m going for a walk,” she announced as she pulled on a pair of jeans.

         “I’ll come with you.”

         “No,’” she shouted. “I need to think things over on my own.”

        Robert watched helplessly as she put on her coat. “Please don’t be long,” he called tamely as she opened the door.

        Stella gave him an icy glare and slammed the door behind her.

 

 

 

As Stella crossed Magdalen Bridge, she noticed the group of alcoholics sat on the cold stone bench. Empty bottles of wine, sherry and spirits were strewn all around them. Their tattered, filthy coats providing them with inadequate protection from the sharp December chill. She hurried as one approached her drunkenly. Spittle dripped from his unkempt beard and the overpowering stench of alcohol penetrated the icy breeze. Passing by him quickly, she relaxed as he rejoined his pals.

        On the opposite pavement, a raucous gang of youths ran down the street towards the Botanical Gardens, their laughter and chanting resounding loudly in the night.

        Stella slowed her pace. So now she knew a few of Robert’s dark secrets. How many more surprises did he have? What else had he kept from her? She wondered if he was serious about their relationship. That was stupid, of course he was.

        A group of students waited patiently for the traffic lights to change at Longwall Street. Fragments of their conversation pierced her thoughts as she joined them and crossed the busy road.

         “I’m going home tomorrow. Keep in touch...”

         “She’ll be there tonight. She’s an easy lay.”

         “I haven’t done a thing this term. I’ll probably fail my finals. My father will be furious.”

        The voices trailed away as the students turned down Catte Street. Stella thought about the last words she had heard.

        How would her father take the news that she was involved with a black man? She knew he wouldn’t be pleased. She could still remember what Samantha had had to go through when he had discovered she was seeing Paul - and he was white!

        Clive was not too keen on blacks, but she felt that if he only just met Robert things would work out. She was sure that she could get round him eventually. Clive wasn’t as tough as he made out. But now she wasn’t so certain. Robert hadn’t mentioned a criminal record before.

        As she entered the town centre, Stella became aware of the bright lights. A huge Christmas tree sat atop the clock tower at Carfax. Shops were now decorated for Christmas. It was only three weeks away she remembered.

        Stella stopped in a shop doorway and looked at the expensive goods on sale. Soon people would be buying their loved ones gifts and trinkets, tokens of love. Christmas was a time for families and lovers.

        She tried to think logically. Okay, so he’d admitted his criminal past. But that was over now; he’d paid his price. It wasn’t as if he had murdered someone. Whatever he had done then, that didn’t mean he didn’t care for her.’

        Robert had openly declared his love for her, and he’d never lied about his daughters. She had seen the pain in his eyes as he talked of his favourite - Laura. For two years he had mourned his loss and let no one come close to him. And now he had let her invade his grief and opened his heart to her.

        In fact he’d been more honest than her. What had she done? She hadn’t told him about Ken or about; her previous lovers. Nor had she told him how her father felt about blacks.

        Stella walked to the waiting cab and opened the door. She wondered what to buy Robert for Christmas.

 

 

 

Robert opened the bottle of Gordon’s, poured an extra large gin, added some bitter lemon and listened intently to the words as Anita Baker sang‘Sweet Love’. Before he’d met Stella, every emotional song had sparked off memories of Laura. He took a swig from the glass while the song continued; realizing just how much the pain of his daughter’s absence had lessened since they’d been together.

        Strangely, he didn’t any guilt that Stella had taken Laura’s place in his heart. She was the first person he had allowed into his life. He laughed out loudly and brought the glass to his lips again. That just about summed up his luck. As soon as he’d found someone to take away the hurt, he’d lost her.

        He heard her keys in the door and quickly downed the drink before Stella burst into the room.

         “Have you any money for the taxi?” she asked.

        Robert slowly pulled a wad of notes from his pocket and peeled off a fiver.

         “The meter’s still running,” she added impatiently.

        He handed across the £5 note.

         “And no need to look so grumpy!” she rebuked, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily!”

        She turned and ran from the room. In a few moments she was back. Taking off her coat, she sat on his knees and threw her arms around his neck. Her cold face and hands made him jump in shock. Slowly she kissed him. “I love you Robert Johnson. I can’t change your past, but from now on you’d better not keep any secrets from me. I want to know everything about you. I don’t want anything to come between us.” she whispered softly in his ear.

        Stella saw the open bottle on the table. She raised herself from the chair, proceeded to mix a couple of gins, then returned to his lap and handed him a glass.

        “How much money have you got there?” she asked patting his pocket.

        “Not much,” he lied.

         “Don’t be stupid. There’s at least £300.”

        Robert took a swig of his gin. “£780 to be exact,” he owned up. It was pointless trying to pretend; she had seen the bundle anyway. All he could hope was that he could slip four of the £50 notes off whilst getting it out of his pocket without her noticing.

         “£760!” she exclaimed, “Where did you get that?”

        S**t he thought. This had better be good. He lowered his glass.

         “My friend’s horse ran today. I ran into him in town, and he told me to back it. I did and it won,” he lied.

         “How much did you put on to win that much?” she asked, now sitting back keenly interested.

         “I backed him with another horse. I only put on £50,” he lied again.

         “£50!” she shouted in horror, “What if it had lost?”

         “But it didn’t, did it,” he smiled and kissed her. “I was going to surprise you with a nice new dress, but now you ye ruined my plan,” he added trying to get her off the subject. A new dress would be worth it if she stopped her third degree. It worked.

         “Well it’s your money. I just don’t know how you could put that much on a horse,” Stella said, her initial disgust slowly disappearing as she thought of the smart dress she had seen in Monsoon that night. She turned her attention to the television.

        Robert’s eyes were fixed on the screen, but he was thinking back to the afternoon.

 

When the runners had flashed up on the screen, his original selection Dashing Hussar was an absentee. Initially Robert decided to save his money, but when he’d examined the form sheets, he had stuck the £100 on another horse.

        His stomach had turned as he watched the nag drift from 5/J to 8/1. He felt beaten before the start. However, the horse must have realized that Robert’s future depended on him. He had run a great race and passed the winning post a good two lengths ahead of his nearest rival.

        Robert had uncharacteristically shouted out in jubilation when the price was given out as 10/1. He had just won £1,000 after taxes!

Reviews

[A LaDy NaMeD D]

And the plot thickens. I can't wait to see what happens when Robert meets Emma, and Clive. Or when Stella finds out how Robert really makes his money. This story gets even more intense and interesting as each chapter passes.