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Outside, with her bag slung over her shoulder, Belle stares at the BMW.HerBMW. Her grin falls away as she sees that some stupid bird has pooed on the bonnet. She stares at the overhanging tree branch in case the bird is still there and might feel some kind of remorse as she glares up at it. But there’s no bird. She goes back into the house and returns with a damp piece of kitchen paper, wiping the mess away. She tosses the dirty paper into the hedge at the side of the drive. Then she gets into the car.
‘Mirror, signal, manoeuvre,’ she says to herself, trying to remember everything Jack told her on the half a dozen or so times he took her out for driving lessons before he left for London. She was pretty good at following his instructions, she has to admit, although most of her time behind the wheel was spent weaving around a bumpy old car park, on land earmarked for a new estate at the back of the disused cinema. But they did go on the road once or twice, even though she didn’t have any L-plates. Jack said it wouldn’t matter, that no one would care. And at least she had a provisional licence that her dad had got her when she turned seventeen. The driving lessons he’d promised had never materialised though.
‘What you need to learn in life, my love,’ Jack had whispered to her, leaning across to flick on the wipers to clear the spots of rain that had started. ‘Is that rules aren’t for people like us. If you dwell solely on what you’re doingwrong, how will you possibly notice when you’re doing thingsright?’
She’d thought about this a lot. It resonated. Tingled her spine and brought a smile to her face.Words to live by, she’d since decided, which is why she starts up the BMW she barely knows how to drive and reverses out onto the road into traffic. Someone hoots and she jams on the brakes.
In three hundred yards,turn left, the voice of the satnav says as she sets off down the road. It bleats instructions for the next fifteen minutes as Belle grips the steering wheel for all she’s worth, peering out of the windscreen with her face pressed so close to it, her heavy breaths are almost fogging it up as she creeps along. As she draws closer to Scarlett’s, her heart skitters in her chest. And, as she turns down the side street where Jack’s club is located – with circular red and white signs flanking it (she doesn’t know what they mean) – she’s faced with the prospect of parking the huge car. The lane is narrow and has double yellow lines either side, but she figures no one else will be driving down here. In the end, she just leaves it half on the narrow pavement outside the flaking door of Scarlett’s. She’ll make sure the place has a fresh coat of paint once she starts working here officially. Smarten it up a bit.
‘You again,’ the man says as he pulls open the door after Belle rings the buzzer. She recognises him from last time.
‘Hi, Derek,’ she trills. She wonders if he remembers her name. ‘It’s Belle,’ she adds, thinking that he’d better get used to her being around.
Derek gives her a quick nod – part twitch and part acknowledgement.
‘I’m here to see what’s what. You know. Get a handle on things before I start full-time.’
Another head-flick, though this time Derek’s eyes drag up and down Belle’s body. He holds the door wider, grinning and showing off his nicotine-stained teeth, several of which are missing.
‘Where’s the office, Derek?’ she says, stopping halfway down the corridor. The place needs some air freshener. It smells like her old gerbil’s cage. ‘I need to see how things work.’
‘The boss sent you, did he?’
‘Of course,’ Belle says, not wanting to admit the truth. Last time she came, Derek didn’t even seem to know who Jack was. ‘A sort of onboarding visit, if you will.’ She’s heard her mum use that expression about new employees. It sounds a business type of thing to say. She can’t help thinking that Derek seems amused by something, but she follows him anyway, deciding that she won’t leave until she gets what she wants. The jade dress already seems to be working, if Derek’s hand sliding down her back and settling on her bottom as he shows her into the dingy office is anything to go by. She pulls away from him.
‘In here,’ Derek says, lighting a cigarette after he shoves open the door. Belle wonders if that’s allowed inside, smoking. ‘It ain’t much, but it’s where it all happens. If you know what I mean.’
Belle isn’t sure she does.
‘Not where itallhappens though, right?’ It’s what she’s angling for, what she’s come here to find out. She perches on the corner of the cluttered desk, making sure her thigh is showing as she waits for Derek’s slow brain to catch up, to get her drift. One of the young female teachers at school used to sit like this at the front of the class and it drove all the boys wild. The things she saw them do under the cover of their desks would have made the poor young teacher flee if she’d known. Boys are so horrible, she thinks, utterly grateful that she has a man. Arealman.
‘So, just remind me of where the place in London is again, you know. Where therestof it happens.’
Derek looks at her blankly.
‘In case I need to report anything to…to the boss.’
‘You mean Vaughn?’
‘Yes,’ Belle says, having no idea who Vaughn is. He can’t be that important because Jack hasn’t mentioned him. But whatever. She just wants to know where Jack is because he still hasn’t replied to her text and it’s not like him. Since their time in France, she wonders if he’s become a bit distant. But she doesn’t want to think about that or, worse, that he might be going cold on their engagement. ‘Yeah, Vaughn,’ she repeats.
‘Do you mean the Cloisters down Winlow Court?’
Belle is grateful to him for telling her what she means because she certainly doesn’t know. He’s making it very easy. ‘Yes, yes, the Cloisters. That’s the one.’Or the place, she thinks, not really knowing what a cloister even is.
‘So, why you here again?’ Derek says. He scratches his chin. Behind the stubble, it looks as though his skin is sore.
‘I told you,’ Belle says, sliding off the desk. ‘To get a handle on things.’ She walks slowly around the small office, playing the part. There’s not much to see. A few dented grey filing cabinets, some shelves stacked with loose papers, a coat rack with a couple of brightly coloured windcheaters hanging on it, and an old desk – the sort of thing you’d find in a charity shop. ‘Before I start work,’ she adds, because Derek doesn’t seem convinced. He’s frowning and still scratching.
‘You gonna be working in the office, then, or what?’ Derek seems bemused. ‘Or like, with the other girls?’
‘Probably both,’ Belle says, opening one of the filing cabinets. ‘Vaughn sent me to…to see what needs clearing out. Including staff,’ she adds, turning abruptly to face him.
Derek visibly recoils and straightens his posture.Got him, Belle thinks. ‘We’re on a cost-cutting mission. You know. Stuff. Orpeople,’ she adds, liking the authority that’s sprung out of her. Derek’s certainly looking worried now. ‘Vaughn’s tightening the belt.’ She pretends to tighten a belt around her middle, and it draws Derek’s eyes to her small waist.
‘Well, right,’ he says. ‘Of course. I’ve been here ages. Can tell you anything you need to know. Records are all, well, up to date.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ Belle says. ‘A Diet Coke would be nice, while I work.’ She curls her body into the plastic chair behind the cluttered desk.
