Chapter 22
Nicholas and Kate staggered out of the taxi and plunged into the sensual embrace of the Madrigal Hotel.
The desk clerk scanned the tipsy couple’s flushed faces and forced a lip-enhanced smile.
‘Good evening. You are staying with us tonight?’
‘Yuh.’ Nicholas tapped his suitcase. ‘Think so.’
‘Can I take your names, please?’
‘Mr and Mrs Morley… Emile,’ replied Nicholas, noting the name badge. ‘I believe that Lady Elizabeth Maitland has booked a room for us?’
‘Just a moment, sir, while I check the reservation.’
Nicholas swivelled round and scanned the uber-glitzy couples who whispered and canoodled on luxurious chenille sofas. Paintings of scantily attired voluptuaries hung on the red silk walls.
On the black marble table in the centre of the lounge clusters of deep purple grapes trailed from a silver plate.
Nicholas groaned. ‘This is going to cost us a bloody fortune. We’re going to have to raid a bank, Kate,’ he whispered.
‘That’s rich coming from someone who just bought a ￡75,000 ring,’ she hissed.
‘Look, I’ll sort that out in the morning. Can you just shut it now and try to keep your asp venom to yourself?’
Emile glanced up from the computer. ‘Yes, indeed. You’re in suite 21.’
‘A suite?’ Nicholas coughed.
‘Our best suite.’
‘And the room rate?’ Kate asked.
‘Normally ￡1,000 a night inclusive of tax and service, but a discount has been arranged by Lady Maitland and it will be ￡750.’
‘With breakfast?’ Kate said.
‘Breakfast is extra, madam. Thirty pounds per person for a full English and twenty for the continental buffet.’
‘Good,’ Nicholas said nonchalantly. ‘I take it you have twenty-four-hour room service?’
‘Of course, sir.’
‘Fine. There you are, Kate. We can send down for some champagne and have our own party.’ Nicholas was determined not to lose financial face.
‘The porter will escort you to the room and bring your luggage. Perhaps, while you are waiting, you and your wife would like to sit down?’
‘Why not?’
‘Oh, come on, Nicholas. We don’t need a porter. Just let’s go upstairs. I’ve got a big bone to pick with you.’
‘Ooh hoo. Mmmm. Could be fun! I’ll pick your bone if you pick mine.’
Nicholas took the brass key and slalomed with his overnight bag towards the lift.
‘What is wrong with you?’ Kate said as she stumbled behind him and, hiking up the voluminous skirt of her frumpish evening dress, pushed him into the lift. ‘You’re so embarrassing.’
‘And so are you! Fancy grilling the man about the rates. I thought at one point you were going to ask for a cheaper room. Oh, you with your bargains and two for one.’
‘You were the one who started it. Talking about bank raids.’
‘Quiet! People are trying to sleep.’
The doors opened and, wheeling their cases down the wide corridor, they arrived at suite 21.
For a moment, the unhappy couple moved out of their troubled world and stepped into a glamorous fantasy. An ice bucket holding a bottle of complimentary champagne, and a porcelain dish of dark chocolates greeted them.
‘Well, that’s a nice surprise.’ He glanced at the label. ‘Mmm, Bollinger, not vintage, but still a good year.’
Nicholas popped the cork, and poured the champagne into two glasses and proffered one to Kate.
‘Not for me.’ She moved over to the Nespresso machine. ‘I want a coffee.’
‘Well, that’s fun! A party for one. Chin-chin to myself.’ Nicholas clinked the two flutes together and took a sip from each.
He ambled into the bedroom, sat on the large, inviting bed with its duck-down pillows and crisp cotton sheets and ran his hand across the satin cover, imagining how it would be if he were with his delicious Sophie.
But here was Kate, cup in hand, who ripped into his tender thoughts.
‘Yes, Nicholas, she’s still in there, isn’t she? In your head, your darling Sophie. I saw you looking at her all evening. Do you think I’m blind? Your eyes were blazing. Blazing with lust and love. You made me feel like I was nothing. Like I didn’t exist.’
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Kate. I just couldn’t help it.’
‘What do you mean you couldn’t help it? How’d you think I felt? Sitting at the table watching you ogling that woman. Knowing that you have touched every part of her body and that every night when we’re in bed you’re thinking of her. Making love to her.’
‘But, Kate, the way you talk to me half the time, I don’t think you give a damn. Let’s face it. You don’t even like me touching you. It’s been months since we’ve done it. I remember. The last time was on my birthday and even then, you were too bloody lazy to pretend you were enjoying yourself. And I’m not so sure that you’re Miss Innocent! Why are you going to the gym twice a day? Twice a day! In the morning and in the afternoon. Before and after work. Come on. Tell me the truth. You’re at it again! Who is it this time?’
‘Stop changing the subject. Stop it! Stop it, Nicholas! You’re a shit. You’re a big shit. Who do you think you are to tell me what to do with my life? I’m fed up. You don’t give me any emotional support whatsoever, nothing. If you really must know, I have met somebody. Yes! Yes!’
‘Who?’
‘I’ve met a woman.’
‘Well, that’s a bolt from the blue.’ Nicholas stopped short. Caught his breath. ‘Another woman. So what can I say? If that’s what floats your boat, it’s fine by me. You carry on. Do what you want. I don’t give a damn anymore.’
‘You shit, Nicholas.’
‘Oh, stop calling me that disgusting name. You’ve become so bloody crude.’
‘I’ll call you anything I like. Bastard! Dog! I’ve had it.’ Moving towards Nicholas, propelled by her fury, she threw the cup at his face.
He ducked and it smashed against the wall, spraying an ugly dash of brown liquid across the ivory paint.
Kate wept.
‘I’ll sleep on the sofa,’ Nicholas said. ‘And you take the bed.’
***
‘Sophie, Nicholas is your friend. Please can you ring him and find out what’s going on?’ asked Claudia.
‘Can’t you do that?’
‘I’ve tried. He doesn’t answer his mobile. I’ve left numerous messages, called his home number, absolutely no response… This isn’t going to go away. It was generous of him to donate the icon, but he still owes the charity ￡75,000 and that’s that. I hope he’s not thinking of backing out.’
‘Look, I can’t talk now,’ Sophie said quietly. ‘I’m taking Horatio to the airport. I’ll ring him this afternoon. Claudia, please could you keep this to yourself? I don’t want Horatio to know that I’m going to call Nicholas… Look, I must go.’
‘What about Nicholas?’ Horatio slid up behind her.
Sophie spun round, whippet fast. ‘Horatio!’
‘What’s the matter with you, darling? You’re so edgy. Why are you in such a bad mood? Is it because of the ring? I’ll get you a beauty, don’t worry. Or is there something else?’
‘Please, Horatio, let’s leave it.’
‘You don’t have to take me to the airport. So much easier for you if I take a cab.’
‘Don’t be silly. I want to take you.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Please, Horatio, stop.’
‘Oh, is this an argument?’ he asked with an amused glint in his eye.
Sophie answered his wry smile with one of her own, and laughed. ‘Not if you stop asking questions.’
***
Nicholas wished he hadn’t behaved like a drunken fool that night in front of Sophie. What must she have thought of him, let alone what her smarmy Horatio had concluded.
The bastard really got him. Shot him in the balls. Horatio had called his bluff, and now Nicholas was stuck.
He’d phoned his bank – not enough leverage for a loan. Funny that. Never been in debt and yet he couldn’t get credit.
‘That’s what happens when you pay in cash,’ his friend Skid said. ‘Start borrowing, Nick, and they’ll know who you are.’
And that Claudia. Her phone messages had made him sweat.
‘Nicholas, answer my call, please,’ she had said in her sweet, breathy voice. It had a steel edge that cut through him like a knife.
Later that afternoon he called her.
‘Please could you give me Boris’s office number,’ he said.
‘Why haven’t you answered my calls?’ Claudia replied.
‘I’m sorry. I was going to ring you earlier, but I just haven’t had the chance,’ he lied.
‘Well, let’s get to the point. How do you want to pay the ￡75,000 for the ring? Cheque or bank transfer?’ she said.
‘Just hold on. I’m not sure yet. I know I have to pay for the ring, but I wasn’t myself last night. I was drunk. I… I don’t want to talk about it… Look, Claudia, I need a little time to sort this out. You’ll get the money…’
And that’s when he called Boris.
‘Alexa, play Mozart’s Requiem .’ Nicholas lay with his head propped on a cushion, eyes glazed, pale-faced waiting for Boris to return his calls. He’d rung twice so far. Nicholas knew that he must resist calling again, or Boris would sense that he was desperate. He must be cool, casual.
Nicholas ran a speech in his head.
Hello, Boris, a little prob last night with my winning bid for the diamond ring. I was a bit tipsy. You know, all the excitement of the game. So, don’t want to dig into my funds at the mo. Markets are down and ￡ 75k makes a bit of a dent. Wondered if you might like to buy another icon or two… for a quick sale? Want to settle asap. Don’t want to let the charity down – it’s a question of honour.
He poured himself a whisky and a large glass of water.
‘Come on, you bastard, ring me back.’ He punched the cushion. ‘Bet you’re doing it on purpose. Probably know I’m drowning in my own sweat.’
Nicholas was in the bathroom when Boris finally rang.
He had left his mobile on the table. Struggling with his trousers, he hopped into the living room.
Kate had just returned from the garden centre. ‘Shall I answer the call?’ she said, more out of curiosity than kindness.
‘Leave it, please,’ he said, and snatched the phone. ‘Hello, it’s Nicholas Morley. I’m trying to speak to Mr Smirnov.’
‘Hold, please,’ said his secretary. ‘I will put you straight through.’
‘Hello, Nicholas. What’s up?’
‘Ah, Boris, we are ships that pass in the night.’
‘Ships? What ships?’
‘It’s a saying. It means we are missing each other,’ Nicholas said.
‘You are very nice man, but I cannot say I miss you. But I’m flattered you miss me.’
‘That’s fine. It’s just another expression.’
‘I know. Only joking. What can I do for you?’ Boris said.
Kate planted herself in front of him, arms crossed.
‘Piss off,’ he mouthed.
She stood her ground.
Nicholas cleared his throat and gave his speech. ‘A little prob last night with my winning bid for the diamond ring,’ he said. His mouth was dry. ‘I… I… was tipsy and… all the excitement of the game… Anyway…’ He suppressed a cough, grabbed a glass of water and took a large gulp… ‘So I don’t want to dig into my funds at the mo. Markets are down and ￡75k makes a bit of a dent… Anyway, I wondered if you might like to buy another icon or two. Good price for a quick sale. Want to settle with the charity asap.’
‘I don’t want more icons, thank you. I bought your one at auction because Lala said it reminded her of her mother.’
‘Look, Boris, can’t you think of something I can do for you?’
‘Mmm, Nicholas, we don’t need to play. I know you are in difficult position. So, I have idea. Wanna be a mule?’
‘Was that a joke, Boris?’ Nicholas said.
‘Not at all. I want you to deliver an icon to a collector who lives in LA.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Clifford Stark.’
‘That doesn’t sound a problem.’
‘No problem for you, if you keep cool.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Just get through customs without a search.’
‘And what if I am searched?’
‘Just don’t get searched,’ Boris said.
‘Okay, I’ll do it.’ Nicholas paced the floor and gestured to Kate to pour him another glass of whisky.
‘When?’
‘Tomorrow night you will stay at the Landmark Hotel. My secretary will book it for you. The icons will be delivered to your room in a suitcase. You will be given an envelope with instructions and money. Your flight will be booked for the day after. Please do not ring me again. I will contact you.’ Boris hung up.
Ashen-faced, Nicholas stood stock still, his mouth wide open, his trousers still round his ankles. He stared at his mobile.
‘What was that about?’ Kate said. ‘You look like one of those human statues in Covent Garden.’
‘I’m a fool. This is a big one, Kate. What have I done?’
‘What do you mean?’
Nicholas downed the whisky and slammed the glass on the table. ‘My dull bloody life has just become a melodrama.’
To be honest, despite the debacle with the ring, there was a part of Nicholas that was excited. Who knows what might happen? Perhaps he could start a side hustle; covert smuggling of valuable items all over the world.
Maybe the ring disaster had inadvertently given him a new lease of life. Not just a bit-player from Bournemouth, but one of the big boys. Bugger Horatio, stealing his Sophie. He’d show him. She’d be begging to come back to him.
The adrenalin rush made him dizzy.