The new morning did not help Claire’s deepening feeling that her life was changing very fast. The sky was dark; it was raining; the walk from the agent’s office took ten minutes. It was early, just 8.00 when she entered the apartment to view in Knightsbridge. This was her second visit and the rooms looked smaller, more enclosed than when she had first inspected them. She would have to add to the sparse pieces of furniture that were already there, and as she peered from the windows, all she saw were the other apartments close by looking back in.
Claire hesitated. Leaving Rick’s apartment was a big break, but it was time to move on. The young associate took her back to the agents’ office and she held her umbrella close to keep the rain off. Just half an hour later, she had committed herself to a three-year lease and with a bank transfer she paid a deposit of £5,000. She felt this stark reminder that she had lived for free in Rick’s penthouse and from today she would have to settle her own rent. She took a taxi back to Rick’s classy apartment, but she was uncomfortable and apprehensive.
This move would only be for a short time – Claire was sure of that. Whatever happened to Arrow Hall, Claire still had this wild dream. She would sometime soon live in the same space in the new Arrow Hall that she had become close to when working for Harry Stone. She had walked away when the fire raged, but now that man was out of it – he was long gone.
But reality hit her as she started to pack some of her clothes to take to her new flat. She took a last farewell as she looked into every corner of every room in Rick’s elegant apartment. This seventeenth-storey penthouse Claire had never got to think of as her own home and, looking around as if she was snooping, even now, left an uncomfortable feeling. But she held some of the glass ornaments of antique cranberry on a window corner of the sitting room, which reflected a soft, reddish glow as she held them to the light. She liked them very much. And every window she went to had a view, from the sweep of the Thames to the tall buildings that almost reached the clouds in Canary Wharf. It was captivating; she would miss it.
White vans tailgating her had left her nervous, but today Claire drove quickly to Arrow Hall. The first words she heard made her stop as she drove onto the muddy field surrounding the half-finished building.
‘Before I finish with this place, you’d better pay me and my boys what we’re owed. I can see through what you’re up to with your fancy money tricks, but don’t come near me with them trying it on. So, Jimmy, I’ve had enough listening to your flaming arrogance and your poncing around in that shiny red motor car.’
Claire watched, stunned as the builder walked up to James’s car and dragged a large knife alongside the driver’s door. The sharp grating noise echoed back into the momentary silence of the site. The red-faced builder, full of anger, got into his van, slammed the door shut and churned up mud as he quickly left.
As she walked into the cabin, Claire again felt the undercurrent that was running through this place. There was a drawing spread across the table; Claire folded it and opened a file of accounts signed off by James and still to be paid. She started to thumb through them, but she was interrupted as James came in.
He never looked smart, or even clean, on the site – today he had on the same stained shirt with sleeves tightly rolled up that he had been wearing for longer than the past week. He stood looking over her shoulder at the papers as if he had not seen them before. He leant closer to her, and as Claire turned round to look at him, he put his hand on her arm.
‘Whatever’s happened to you?’
She pushed him away and peered more closely at his right eye.
‘You won’t believe this. I fell off a chair in my new flat as I was putting a bulb in the spotlight. It was in the kitchen, a bit difficult to get to.’
James’s naivete showed with a glazed look in his eyes as he was talking.
‘Don’t give me that story – you’re right; I don’t believe it. So, what’s going on here?’
‘Just a little discipline around the place. It won’t do any harm. I know him – it’s bluster, and he’ll be back.’
‘How much do we owe him? What’s he arguing about? Is there a dispute? And a large knife scratched into your car?’
‘I said don’t listen to him – I’ll deal with it.’
‘You’ve been thrown to the floor and now knives. This place is becoming unsafe. And just yesterday I was run off the road by a large white van. What do you know about that?’
‘Nothing. What do you expect me to know about your lousy driving?’
‘You know more than you’re telling me. But I’m going to find it all. And loud arguments round this site doesn’t help.’
‘Okay. You’re right – you’ve told me that before as if I’m a kid.’ James’s raised voice echoed in the small cabin space.
‘James, I’m not taking any more of this. Sit down now. I’m going through every payment we’ve made, every piece of paper, and I want to know exactly what work they’ve done for it. £15,000 has gone into thin air, and the money’s not yet back in the bank for the two bills you signed off twice. Davies the plumber and Alison’s the plasterers. I’m going to lock the cabin door – turn your phone off so no interruptions.’
Claire moved towards the door, but James stood in front of her.
‘I can’t stop now. I’ve got a visit in ten minutes from the planning office – you remember that pernickety man with the bald head and oversized glasses. But you’re being too fussy. Leave it to me – next time they’re on site I’ll talk to them. But if you think I’ve got names and addresses of all the itinerant labourers I paid out some cash to, you’re in cloud cuckoo land – that’s not a detail I find they ever give away.’
‘Right. Get your diary out. As long as it takes, next Tuesday, midday. If I don’t get answers I can believe in, I’ll close all bank accounts until I’m sure this place is under control. That’ll mean nobody will get paid, and next time there’s a fight here, I’ll call the police to investigate,’ Claire said. ‘You’ve overspent and you’re not looking into a bottomless money pit you can keep clawing it from.’
‘Why are you questioning it all? Arrow Hall is a very difficult job. It’s a listed site, and you’ve got to understand it’s not like building your usual urban semi. And don’t you dare call the police – I’ll deal with overpayments…’
James’s voice trailed off; he straightened as he was talking and walked to the other end of the desk. Staring moodily from the small cabin window, James was suddenly distant. But Claire needed answers from James. She moved to tap him on the shoulder to interrupt his reverie. He suddenly recoiled from his vacant stare. His face flushed red, Claire thought with anger. He almost ran from the cabin without a word.
A few seconds later, there was a small knock on the cabin door. Claire turned as the door opened. She put her hand to her mouth as if to stifle a scream.