TEN

‘What you need to do, old son, is to review your options,’ suggested Hugo knowingly, like the sage and worldly soul that he was. Somehow I doubted that owning large chunks of the shire counties – which Hugo did – involved the need for reviewing options other than deciding how many more acres to buy and how many tenants to evict if things got tight. Still, he meant well, which after my meeting with Susan, came as a welcome relief.

We were back at the drinker’s pub, where I was once more under the cold scrutiny of the landlady. She evidently hadn’t made up her mind whether or not my money was good enough to make up for my crimes against womankind, or perhaps she was considering gathering some of the locals together to tar and feather me and roll me down the nearest hill in a barrel.

‘What options? No wife, no house, no money, friends blanking me in public and now she’s going to sue for divorce.’ I’d given him the bare bones of Susan’s response after our meeting, and how the door to matrimonial harmony had been slammed shut unless I was prepared to prostrate myself before her and become her whipping-boy for past hurts.

‘Put like that, no,’ he agreed calmly. ‘But what’s the point wallowing in self-pity? It’s not your usual trait, is it?’

He had a point there. God, I hate arguing with Hugo. He knows me too well.

‘Okay, so what would you do?’ I challenged him. A management trick: turn the question back on the questioner.

‘Simple. Find yourself a girl with the sexual instincts and appetite of a starved mongoose and go for it. Everything will seem unimportant after that.’

I stared at him, hardly recognising my friend of several years. This wasn’t the boring old logical Hugo: of the home counties cardigans and the traditional values, anxious to gallop home to Juliette in case he was cast into the outer darkness. This was a monster I hardly recognised, peeling back his outer layer like a snake shedding its skin.

‘Apart from the sex bit,’ I finally managed to tell him, ‘you make this whole getting back on your feet bit sound like an exercise in better management. Is that all you’ve got to offer? Thanks a lot!’

‘Maybe it is.’ If he was offended by my ingratitude, he didn’t show it. He finished his pint and signalled for a refill. The landlady smiled at him and ignored me. ‘Thank Christ for all those boring sessions at the MBA classes I went to. Learned bugger all about business management, but I’ve never been so expertly shagged in all my life. You remember Lorraine from Executive Accounts?’

How could I forget Lorraine? I’d have to have been blind to forget HP&P’s resident beauty. She had looks, brains, ambition and an earthy sense of humour, and Daddy was well connected in the city. She had, as I also recalled, been sent on the same MBA course as Hugo.

I felt my jaw drop as if on hinges. ‘What? You mean you?’ I couldn’t believe it. Rumour had it that no-one had ever got to first base with Lorraine because she was so stand-offish and wrapped up in her career. Not that I’d ever ventured to try; but I knew the names of some of the fallen who were whispered about in the corridors. And now this paragon of virtue was admitting to having been there.

‘Three times, actually,’ confirmed Hugo happily, before I could ask. ‘All in one night. Couldn’t keep up in the end, literally or otherwise. Jesus, I dunno what she was on, but she could go like a train and still have enough energy for an early-morning swim. I was so buggered I overslept on the third morning and missed two sessions. Pruitt was furious. Still,’ he stared dreamily into his glass like an old soldier remembering past campaigns, ‘it was worth the bollocking just to see the look on his face when he realised what we’d been up to. Letchy old bastard had been trying to get into her knickers since day one.’

I was staggered. Pruitt was HP&P’s Finance Director and someone more seemingly straitlaced you couldn’t get. He probably had the Institute of Chartered Accountants logo embroidered on his underpants. I wondered how much he knew about the less salubrious side of the business. As FD, surely he’d have seen any wrongdoings first-hand in the figures. Although it was possible that, as with Hugo, they had taken care to ensure there were several faces around the place who could present an outwardly law-abiding image to the general public, just for show. And that meant making sure the public saw only what they wanted them to see.

As for Lorraine, all I could picture was an image of starched blouses, power suits and the kind of ‘invade-my-space-and-I’ll-kick-you-in-the-balls’ look which stopped most chat-up lines dead in their tracks.

‘But she was always so forbidding.’ I was desperate to believe he was kidding me.

‘You’re dead right, mate. Kept forbidding me to slow down and forbidding me to stop.’ He laughed wickedly, pleased by his own coarse wit.

‘Very funny. And since then?’

‘Not a look.’ He frowned. ‘I’ve dropped the odd hint, you know, suggested drinkies and so forth. But she’s blanked me every time. Must have been the mood of the moment, I suppose. Still, can’t say I’m sorry, to be honest; it’d be hell on wheels if she decided she wanted a re-match. You can only keep up that sort of pretence for a while. Juliette would skin my balls and feed ’em to the dogs if she ever found out. Not that they’re much use to me these days, anyway.’

‘Bloody cheek,’ I muttered heavily, and sank some more beer. Hugo was sounding as if Lorraine hadn’t been his first away match.

He looked surprised. ‘Well, I dunno about that. She’d have a point I suppose.’

‘Not her, you pious, double-dealing arse,’ I said angrily. ‘You rattle on about me not being around enough to give Susan more time, but at least I haven’t slept with anyone else. God, I’ve a good mind to tell Juliette.’

Hugo stared at me, the blood draining from his face. ‘I say, that’s low, old boy. You won’t, will you?’ He grabbed hold of my arm, suddenly the one on the defensive. ‘Christ on a broomstick, Jake – come on. I was only telling you by way of trying to help lighten the atmosphere.’

I grinned, enjoying his discomfort. Served him right. ‘Actually, I wouldn’t. But just remember: now I know who and I know when.’

We drank some more, with him shooting me nervous glances. Then I said, ‘Actually, you’re right. It’s about time I got back on the bike and started riding again. I suppose I have been wallowing a bit. It all came as such a shock, though. I let it get to me. Sorry.’ Christ, I almost sounded as if I meant it, even to myself. Maybe I was getting there after all.

‘Good for you, old boy.’ A look of relief passed across his brow now I wasn’t going to drop him in it. ‘You need to get away for a while. Let the atmosphere settle. As for the girl thing, well, you’re not past it, are you?’

‘After the last couple of days I bloody well feel past it. First thing is to get a job.’

‘D’you have any ideas in the pot?’

‘Not really. I was hoping you might be able to help.’ I’d had a quick trawl online for jobs, but unless I fancied teaching English to school kids in New Guinea, packing rubber boots in a factory in Park Royal or wearing a dark uniform and making sure no-one ran off with bottles of sherry from the local supermarket, there wasn’t much about.

‘I might.’ He gave it some thought for a moment, then finished off his pint. ‘Tell you what, I’ll ring a couple of pals and see what’s about. That do you? I suppose you’re not too fussed about what, are you?’

‘Anything,’ I said gamely, remembering Hugo had friends in some very exotic places. ‘Just something to get me back on my feet and keep me solvent. I need to get away from here for a while. Overseas would be nice. Somewhere sunny, perhaps – but not the Foreign Legion; I’ve developed a sudden aversion to sand and camels. And if you can think of a way of cashing my severance cheque without using my bank account, that would help. Susan’s got her sights on it already.’

He nodded. ‘Okay. But, umm… one thing, old boy: did you mean it earlier on, about never having strayed? I mean, not even once? Hell, I mean, it’s not as if anyone – Susan – would have found out, is it?’

‘Never.’ I repeated firmly. ‘I told you. Maybe I should have put in for the MBA course you were on.’

‘Come off it, Jake.’ He gave a wry snicker. ‘You’d have got nowhere, I promise you.’

‘Maybe not with Lorraine,’ I said. ‘But I might have got an MBA certificate.’

Marcus’s electronic product tester mates were slouched in the living-room when I got back, wearing what looked like over-sized crash helmets and visors, with the sounds of pitched battle coming from the earpieces. If they were aware of me from within their virtual reality zones, they made no signs, and I guessed I could have stripped naked and done the conga and they wouldn’t have turned a hair.

When Marcus came in, he nodded with more civility than I’d expected, and hovered in the background like a spare part. It was a familiar sign: he had something to say but wasn’t sure how to go about it. It didn’t really go with the smart suit and aluminium briefcase, no doubt his kit for meetings with investors, but that was business; this was closer to home.

‘What’s up?’ I said, making it easier for him. At this rate we’d still be there at midnight and he’d never get it out. It reminded me of when he was younger and needed some pocket money for something urgent. He’d hover around me, hopping from foot to foot, looking as though he was about to speak but never quite getting there. In the end I’d got used to asking him how much he needed; it saved us both a lot of time and embarrassment.

‘I wondered if you fancied coming to a football match tomorrow,’ he said quickly. ‘Only if you’d like to, of course.’