Читать книгу The Annie Carter Series Books 1–4 - Jessie Keane - Страница 38

‘Good afternoon, Miss Bailey. I hope you’re well?’

Thank God for Redmond Delaney and a sense of normality, thought Annie. Ever since the exhibition she had felt that she was losing her mind. Seeing Max had rattled her, seeing Ruthie so upset had rattled her even more. It was hard for her to keep on track, to keep everything running as it should, but somehow she was managing.

Dig deep and stand alone, she thought. She had to carry on doing that however hard it might be.

She had started making elaborate plans, frantically occupying her thoughts with business, trying to cope with her emotional disorder through diversion. When she heard that deep cool, Irish voice on the phone, it steadied her somehow. And now she had a face to put to the voice. Handsome, chilly Redmond Delaney. Twin to Orla and brother to sweet and scatty Kieron – not to mention that disgusting lout Pat.

‘I’m very well, Mr Delaney. And you?’

‘Perfectly fine, thank you. How is business?’

‘I’m going to expand,’ said Annie.

‘Indeed?’

‘The parties are going so well I’m going to have them three times a month. We can’t cope with the demand and we don’t want too many punters in here at any one time.’

‘That’s good news, Miss Bailey.’

‘Also, I’ve been thinking.’

‘Yes?’

‘Quite a few of our clients are prosperous professionals, Mr Delaney. They need a place to go that’s close to the City – to Whitehall.’

‘I see.’

‘So in addition to this business, I’m also planning to rent an apartment – a nice one – perhaps in Mayfair?’

‘That will be expensive.’

‘Not if you chip in half the rent.’

There was a short silence before he came back: ‘We’ll need to renegotiate my cut.’

‘That goes without saying,’ said Annie, who had already thought all this through.

‘By the very nature of the business, the rentals may have to be short-term. If you are not in our area other interests may come into play. Neighbours may have more influence. You will have to be cautious. And extremely discreet.’

‘Yes, I do realize that.’

‘Find a suitable property and we’ll talk again, Miss Bailey.’

‘Thank you, Mr Delaney.’

‘Was there anything else?’

Annie glanced over at Chris, sitting there like Buddha in the corner. Not the time or the place to tell Redmond about her suspicions regarding Pat, she thought. Maybe Redmond knew, anyway. Maybe Redmond didn’t care.

‘No, there’s nothing else.’

‘Goodbye then.’

Ruthie was right, Annie thought. She was sitting on a powder keg. One dropped spark, and pow! A feeling of fatalism was coming over her. Sooner or later it was all going to erupt around her. But for now, she was alive. She was in charge. She was Madam Annie. The minute she put the phone down she shouted up the stairs for Ellie. A dark head appeared over the banister.

‘Get smartly dressed, Ellie,’ said Annie. Ellie knew that ‘smart’ meant ‘nothing tarty’. Ellie could look like a novice nun when she set her mind to it. Her ‘novice nun’ was in fact very popular with some of the clients, nearly as popular as her ‘schoolgirl’. Annie had every confidence in her ability to appear demure. ‘We’re going up West to do some business.’

‘Jesus H Christ in a sidecar,’ said Ellie two and a half hours later. Annie gave her a sharp nudge. ‘Sorry,’ she muttered. ‘But look at it, Annie. Just fucking-well look at this place.’

Annie was looking. She was looking and she was wondering what it would be like to actually live here. It was a high-ceilinged, bright and incredibly big apartment set in a gorgeous block on the corner of Oxford Street and Park Street. Buck House was just up the road. So was the Ritz, just a step away in Piccadilly. The Houses of Parliament were close by too. It was a perfect place in a perfect location. There was a private balcony and even porterage.

‘Someone to carry your stuff up for you,’ said Annie when Ellie gave her a questioning look.

There was a lift. There were two beautiful bathrooms. The apartment was furnished in luxurious gold and pale blue tones, offset by a warm, muted cream. It was the most exquisite, the most truly luscious place Annie had ever seen. It damn near brought tears to her eyes, it was so lovely.

‘So ladies – what do you think?’ asked the estate agent, emerging from one of the bathrooms and beaming from ear to ear.

Christ, even the estate agents in this area looked prosperous, thought Annie. He had a healthy tan and lustrously styled hair. His suit looked like Savile Row, elegantly pinstriped and teamed with white shirt, gold cufflinks and discreet silk tie. You could have made your face up in the reflection off his shoes, she thought. The bastard looked rich. Fortunately, so did she. Or rather Anne Bailey did. Anne. Like the Princess, she had told him and smiled charmingly when she shook his hand. And so did her little sister for the day, whom she introduced with a flourish as Elisa.

This was the third flat they had viewed. The first had taken her breath away, and she had been inclined to go for that one – but it was slightly further out than she really wanted, although it boasted stunning views over Green Park. Then the next. Dazzling, alluring. But a little dark with a lot of wood panelling. But this one. This was it.

‘We’ll take it,’ she said.

They went back to his office and Annie wrote out a cheque for six months’ rent in advance. A staggering amount. But she’d been busy saving a large wodge of her considerable profits. She could, for the first time ever, afford to follow a whim.

Chris drove them back to Limehouse stopping on the way, at Annie’s instruction, so that she could make a call from a phone box.

‘It’s urgent,’ she said. ‘Something I forgot.’

She phoned through to Redmond Delaney and kept her back turned to Chris and Ellie, who were both waiting in the car. She told him that Pat Delaney had shown up at her last party, that he appeared to be on something and that he had passed something to Chris.

Redmond took it all in silently.

The pips went. Annie shovelled in more change.

‘I’ll look into it,’ said Redmond.

‘I’d rather he didn’t know I told you,’ said Annie.

‘Of course.’

‘I got the flat,’ said Annie.

‘Good work, Miss Bailey. Get the details to me as soon as you can.’

‘Of course,’ said Annie, and rang off.

She was moving on up. Everything was going to be all right. But she felt jittery. She got back in the car, clutching the flat details to her. She sat there staring out at the traffic and reviewing her recent past with blank amazement. Funny how Billy hadn’t called in for a while. She almost missed the poor loon, he’d become a familiar face to her. But she supposed he was intimidated, being confronted by Chris every time he called. It wasn’t something she could help. Chris was necessary now. Protection. Security. She lay back against the leather upholstery as Ellie prattled away excitedly beside her and thought what it would be like to just take off to that beautiful Mayfair flat on her own, to live there as Miss Anne Bailey, happy and prosperous. To forget Celia’s place and the danger and the excitement of running it. Sure, she thought. And live on what? Peanuts?

The big black car was outside the house again when they got home, the driver sitting stolidly behind the wheel, waiting.

Ruthie! thought Annie, anxiety and anger gripping her. She tore through the hall and flung open the door to the front parlour.

‘Look, Ruthie, if you’ve come here for another bloody row …’

But it wasn’t Ruthie waiting to see her.

It was Max.

Every time she saw Max Carter she was hit by the sheer physical impact of him. Of course whoever had let him in had shown him into the front room, not the kitchen. You didn’t show Max into a kitchen.

Annie stood frozen in the doorway for a moment.

Chris came up close and hissed: ‘You want me to phone Redmond?’ in her ear.

Annie shook her head. ‘I’ll deal with this. See that nobody disturbs us, will you?’

She went into the front room and closed the door behind her and leaned against it, breathless, heart hammering crazily in her chest.

‘Sorry. I thought you were Ruthie,’ said Annie. Her mouth was dry.

‘She’s been here then?’ said Max.

‘Yeah,’ said Annie coolly. ‘Can’t seem to make up her mind whether your marriage is dead or alive, but she was here. You mean you didn’t know she called?’

‘I don’t own her.’

‘Sorry, I thought you did.’

Max nodded. Slowly he came over to where she stood, placed one large hand on the door beside her head, and leaned in.

‘You’ve got a fucking nerve, Annie Bailey, talking to me like that,’ he said.

‘Ruthie might be afraid of you,’ said Annie. ‘I’m not.’

‘No?’ Max was half-smiling as he came in closer still. He knew the effect he had on her.

Annie gulped. ‘No,’ she said.

‘You’ve changed, Annie. Look at you. You’re all grown up now,’ he said, his eyes moving over her.

Annie nodded. ‘I had to grow up fast, Max. I got kicked out by my mother, remember? If I hadn’t been able to come here I’d have been walking the streets.’

‘Is this what you wanted out of life, running a knocking shop?’

Annie shrugged, trying to be cool, but her heart was racing and now – oh shit! – her nipples were hard. The flat details in her hand were crumpled and damp, forgotten. She wished he’d back off. But she knew he wouldn’t.

‘It’s a living,’ she said.

‘Word is you’re making a good job of it,’ said Max.

‘I like to think so.’

‘You shouldn’t be here,’ he said.

‘Why?’ Annie was stung by this. What fucking business was it of his where she was or what she did? He’d made his feelings plain enough when he’d kicked her out of his car into the pouring rain; she’d never forget that, or forgive it. ‘Is something going to happen? Is the place going to burn down around my ears, is that it?’

She saw anger in his eyes and then he smiled. ‘You may not be afraid of me, Annie Bailey, but I think you’re afraid of yourself.’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ said Annie, but she did.

‘So I’m asking the question,’ said Max.

‘What?’ Annie’s voice was barely more than a whisper. She could feel Max’s breath on her face, feel the heat coming off his body.

‘How much?’

‘What?’

‘How much do you want?’ Max’s eyes were sharp now, predatory. ‘You know I want you. Always have, always will. So if it makes you feel better we’ll keep this strictly business. How much?’

For fuck’s sake! The cheek of him, to treat her like a tart! Annie shook her head violently. She wanted to hit him.

‘God, you’re a bastard,’ she said. ‘And let’s get this straight. Even if I was selling it – which I’m not – you couldn’t afford me.’

‘Yes I could,’ said Max. ‘I could have you for free, and you fucking-well know it.’

Now she did hit him. Or she tried to. He caught her arm on the upswing and pinned it back against the door. Then he kissed her and she was lost. She couldn’t help it. The heat of his body, the smell of his cologne, the slickness of his tongue as it entered her mouth, everything overwhelmed her.

Ruthie, she thought.

But it was no good. She was gone, the touch and feel and smell of him was something she had dreamed of every night for too long. Then he was lifting her, carrying her over to the couch, lowering her on to it, pushing up her dress.

‘No,’ she managed to say. ‘No, I don’t want this.’

But Max wasn’t listening. His mouth covered hers again and she was powerless to resist. He was shoving aside the flimsy pants she wore, then she felt him undoing his trousers. We mustn’t do this, she thought, but the wetness was flooding her.

Then suddenly he was inside her, huge and pumping and just as she remembered. She cried out and he covered her mouth with his hand and had her quickly and silently. Annie lay there, pinioned, trapped, loving it. Then he stiffened and groaned as his seed spilled into her, God, no protection, nothing, there could be a baby, anything could happen, she was in terror and in rapture, she loved it, couldn’t get enough of it, God she must be a whore, what else was she, this was her sister’s husband, Ruthie’s husband …

It was over. He was finished, but instead of withdrawing he stayed there, kissing her, nuzzling his nose into her neck, crushing her with his strength, hurting her a little but she still loved it.

‘I want this,’ he murmured against her skin. ‘I want you. I’ve been going fucking mad ever since I saw you again, dreaming about you.’

At the gallery, she thought. And at poor Eddie’s funeral. It was Eddie’s death that had really brought them back together. She remembered that hot, lingering look they’d exchanged as Max stood at Eddie’s graveside.

‘But Ruthie,’ she groaned, nearer to tears than she had ever been before.

‘She lives her life, I live mine,’ he said roughly. ‘Whatever you and I do, it’ll make no difference to her.’

If Annie tried hard enough she could almost make herself believe that it was true.

‘What’s this?’ He was taking the scrap of mangled paper out of her hand, pulling away from her a little, adjusting his trousers. Annie straightened too, feeling sore and achy. She wasn’t used to bearing a man’s weight. Her hands were shaking. She felt hot, ready for more. She wanted him to touch her again, be inside her again. No wonder she felt at home in a whorehouse – she was a whore.

‘We’re expanding the business,’ she said, trying to steady herself as Max spread out the details and looked at the photo of the apartment’s interior.

‘We?’ He looked at her.

‘The Delaneys will chip in.’ There, she’d said it.

He was silent. Then he said: ‘It looks good.’

‘It’s beautiful,’ said Annie. ‘Walking around it, I felt like I was in another world.’

‘Come here,’ said Max, and kissed her again, his hands deftly stroking her until he had to cover her mouth again to stifle a scream. ‘Good?’ he murmured, covering her mouth with his own again and pushing her back, going on to his knees and freeing himself quickly and pulling her legs apart, sliding her arse down the sofa until they were joined again, he was plunging inside her again, riding her.

This is crazy, thought Annie. But she was dazed. Unable to resist. Loving it.

‘We shouldn’t do this,’ she whispered hopelessly.

‘We have to,’ groaned Max.

And it was true. They had to, the feeling was too strong, too long denied.

I’m lost, she thought. And when he had finished and was gone, she stood there in the empty room and clutched her head in her hands and screamed with the sheer frustration of wanting him so badly – because she knew she couldn’t have him.

Her nerves were in shreds. She found a pack of Player’s and a lighter in the sideboard and smoked her first-ever cigarette. Christ, she had to do something. She sat down on the sofa, her knickers wet and her hair like a fright wig, and wondered what had hit her.

‘I’ll call you soon,’ he’d said.

Maybe he wouldn’t. She knew enough of the world to realize that this was probably a kiss-off. He’d got what he wanted after all. Annie started to choke on the cigarette. She stubbed it out and dropped her head into her hands.

‘Fuck it,’ she muttered. It was good that he was probably not going to come near her again. He was her sister’s husband. All right, so the marriage was in ruins, but wasn’t that her fault too? Everything was her fault. Wasn’t that what her mother had always told her? Connie might be a lush, but Annie thought now that she had probably got that exactly right.

Christ, she couldn’t believe what a pushover she’d been. One kiss and she’d crumbled into dust. And now look at her. She didn’t know whether she felt punched or bored. Her head was all over the place. One moment she was excited, the next devastated, the next so full of guilt over Ruthie that she thought it would choke her.

‘Fuck it,’ she muttered again, more savagely.

There was a knock at the door. Annie pushed back her hair with a shaking hand and tried to get a grip of herself.

‘Come in,’ she called out.

Darren put his head round the door. ‘You okay in here?’ he asked.

‘I’m fine. Thanks.’

‘He’s gone then,’ said Darren.

‘Yeah. Did you show him in?’

‘Sorry. He’s not the sort you can turn away, is he?’

‘No,’ said Annie bleakly.

‘Ellie said it went well with the flats,’ said Darren.

‘Oh. Yeah. It did.’ Annie felt that the flat business had happened about twenty years ago. Long before Max had hit her like a fucking force ten gale.

‘Only we’ll have to get the room cleaned up in a bit,’ said Darren.

‘Right. Sorry,’ said Annie, standing up. Her legs felt like pipe cleaners. Max’s seed was running down her inner thighs. She felt dizzy. Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered, she thought with a shred of humour. Like the song.

‘It’s okay,’ said Darren, watching her closely. ‘That’s one gorgeous man,’ he said.

‘That’s one very dangerous man,’ corrected Annie, going upstairs to get cleaned up. ‘Okay, Darren, let’s get this show on the road. Get the room straight.’

She didn’t even notice that she’d dropped the flat details in there. Suddenly all her grand schemes didn’t seem very important at all. She wondered when he would call. If he would call. But then, she mustn’t answer the call if he did. Oh shit, she was in trouble, right up to her neck.