The days turned into months and things seemed just about normal for Nula. Well, as normal as they ever got, living with Charlie. As a treat, he took her out in the Bentley with Sammy, one of the new younger guys, at the wheel.
‘For a little surprise,’ he said.
Nula felt nervous as soon as she stood out on the drive. Sammy was there, sliding a mirrored stick under the car, moving it back and forth.
‘What’s he looking for?’ she asked Charlie, who was standing beside her, chatting to Terry.
‘Explosives,’ said Charlie, and resumed his conversation as if this was a normal thing for a person’s driver to do.
Then they all piled in the motor and Sammy set off down the driveway. Halfway down, he braked sharply. Nula jerked against her seat belt and looked at Charlie, who didn’t even seem to have noticed. He was thumbing through a magazine about light aeroplanes. Christ, he already had a big Sunseeker moored down at Crableck Quay on the Solent, a Maserati and a couple of top-of-the-range Ferraris parked up in the garages at home, a superyacht called Lady of the Manor down in Palma marina. He was particularly delighted about the superyacht because it was six feet longer than Javier Matias’s. Not a bloody plane now, surely?
‘What did Sammy stop like that for?’ she asked, feeling her nerves start to jangle.
‘Checking the brakes are sound, that’s all,’ he said.
He means not tampered with, thought Nula. Oh Christ.
‘Where are we going then?’ she asked him. She hated surprises of any sort.
‘You’ll see.’
They ended up at the heliport in London and Charlie started milling about the place, shaking hands with people, slapping them on the back, cracking jokes, doing his ‘everyone’s mate’ act with Terry right there, sober, sensible and watchful at his side. Charlie pulled Nula forward and introduced her to the guy who seemed to be in charge of operations.
‘My wife,’ he said. ‘Nula.’
‘Pleasure,’ said the man, and turned back to Charlie. ‘I thought the Robinson R22 two-seater.’
‘Fine,’ said Charlie. He turned to Nula. ‘You wait here, babes, with Terry. You just wait and see, OK?’
Charlie walked off toward the smaller of three helicopters.
‘He’s not . . . ?’ Nula asked Terry.
Terry heaved a sigh. ‘He’s been up here six or seven times, having lessons.’
‘Christ, really?’ She couldn’t imagine Charlie as a pilot. He was nowhere near steady enough to be in charge of an aircraft.
‘I bet you any money you like,’ said Terry, watching his old mate bouncing off over the tarmac, ‘that he’ll want to get in the big one today, the blue one. He won’t go in the little one, that’s not showy enough for Charlie, not with you standing here watching.’
‘How about the middle one?’
‘The Bell 206 Jet Ranger? Nah. You watch.’
Charlie and the instructor had paused near the smallest helicopter.
‘Shit, there he goes,’ said Nula with a bitter smile, because this was so typically Charlie. He was heading for the biggest aircraft and the instructor was following.
‘That’s a beast, that one, the bigger Jet Ranger. Twin engines,’ said Terry.
Charlie got in the pilot’s seat and the instructor sat in the copilot’s position.
‘Christ, is he sure . . . ?’ Nula asked.
‘Well he’s been having the lessons.’ Terry, arms folded, was watching Charlie put on headphones. Then the engines began to roar and Terry ushered Nula back inside the building out of the downdraught.
The helicopter’s rotors became a blur and then the thing started to lift up into the pale blue sky before skimming off over the buildings and away. She watched as the Jet Ranger became a darker blue dot in the hazy distance.
‘He’s ordered one just like it. One point one million,’ said Terry.
Nula had to laugh. That was Charlie all right. The tosser.
‘Do you ever think . . . ?’ she started, then hesitated.
‘What?’ Terry looked at her.
‘That it’s all too much? That it’s gone too far and something’s got to stop it.’
‘What, the trade, you mean?’
Nula nodded. ‘Yeah. The trade. The product. When we all started out, we never dreamed, did we? That it would turn out like this. That we’d have so much. Or be so . . . so fucking at risk. Armed guards. I’ve seen the gun you carry, Terry. I saw it. And Sammy looking under the car for explosives, and checking the brakes, and . . . I dunno. Sometimes it feels like we’re sitting on top of a volcano, and one day soon it’s gonna blow us all to fuck. Don’t you ever feel like that?’
Terry looked at Nula’s face. She’d said exactly what he’d been thinking for a good few years. He’d said as much to Charlie. Warned him. Said maybe it was time to cut their losses and get out of the business once and for all. But Charlie? He’d laughed and slapped Terry on the back. Getting cold feet there, bud? Don’t fret yourself. Everything’s under control.
‘No,’ Terry lied to Nula. ‘I don’t feel like that.’
‘Must be just me then,’ said Nula with a sad little laugh. She could see the blue dot in the sky coming back into focus, could hear the twin-engine roar start to get louder as Charlie turned the craft back toward the landing point.
Terry let out a sigh. ‘There’s nothing to worry about. Charlie’s got things in hand. And as for him getting his pilot’s licence? It’s never gonna happen. There’s a lot of reading to be got through and six written exams to take before you can get a pilot’s licence. Charlie hates to read anything, even the back of a cereal packet. He’ll never stick it out.’
‘Yeah. You’re probably right,’ said Nula. This was the longest conversation she and Terry had had for years. Nula thought that while middle age had stolen Charlie’s youthful good looks, it had only enhanced Terry’s. Ah, she was a stupid old cow. She had her fair share of wrinkles herself, now. But she still had a soft spot for Terry Barton. Even now, after all this time.
‘Did you know that Harlan has a bit of a crush on Belle? I saw him talking to her earlier,’ said Nula.
Terry turned his head toward her and Nula was shocked by the vicious expression in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was harsh.
‘You make sure Charlie keeps that little arsehole away from my girl. You got that?’ he spat out.
‘Well, I . . .’ Nula floundered.
‘I told him. I’m not mucking about. I catch him anywhere near her again and I’ll cut his fucking throat.’
Nula nodded dumbly. Again?
‘I mean it,’ said Terry.
‘I can see you do,’ said Nula, wishing she’d said nothing. ‘Has something happened then? Something I ought to know about?’
Terry shook his head in irritation. ‘Nah, it was a while ago. Caught him trying it on with her in the garage. Gave him a slap.’
To their mutual surprise, Charlie did keep going with the lessons. Months later, Charlie got his licence and took delivery of his very own Jet Ranger. Meanwhile, Harlan was busy in town. He was starting to make a few alterations on the manor. And that slap Terry had given him over Belle? He’d never forgotten it. And he never would.