Part One: Nick
We finished our drinks and it only took a few minutes to gather our belongings and check out of the hotel. Jean-Pierre drove us to the airport and fortunately it was only about forty-five minutes before a flight was leaving for London. Jean-Pierre got us the seats at short notice and I took his phone numbers and said I would call him the next day. Within three hours we were back in London and on our way to the flat.
It was important for me to get in and call Imogen and Sally. When we arrived, Chrissie said that she felt uncomfortable about staying the night at her house and asked if she could stay at mine. I agreed and she went into her house to pick up a few things.
I immediately phoned the girls and Peter at the cottage and was relived to find everything as it should be. It seemed odd speaking with Peter for the first time throughout the whole episode. He was concerned for Chrissie, naturally. I explained that we had returned to London and we would both be coming up the following day, though I would not be there until the early evening. I spoke with Sally, who was exhausted from her holiday activities, and blew her a kiss before she went off to bed. Chrissie then arrived back from her house and I passed the phone to her so she could explain to Peter the days’ events. I went into the bathroom to take a long, cool shower and change into something more comfortable. I could smell the bleachy odour of the detention centre on my skin.
While I was in the shower, Chrissie must have gone back to her house and taken some food from the freezer. When I went into the kitchen, she was defrosting some lasagne in the microwave and preparing some salad. She’d also brought over a bottle of wine.
“So what are you going to do about Bulmer?” she asked as we finished our meal.
I thought for a moment.
“I’m still not sure. But I have to see this man and form my own opinion about him. He may have just been spouting a great deal of hot air.”
“You can’t be serious about that,” she said. “Surely someone who has access to drugs and crooks in Paris must have a great deal of power.”
“Possibly,” I agreed, “but if we don’t do anything, Eamon will go to prison for a long time and though I must put Sally first, that is the last thing I want to happen.”
Chrissie put her wine glass down on the table and ran her fingers through her hair.
“Oh, God, I don’t know what to do or think ... what a terrible nightmare this is turning into and I must accept some responsibility.”
I felt rather sorry for her.
“Why do you say that? Eamon made the choice and knew what the consequences could be. You can’t blame yourself for it.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But I had no idea of the horror that Eamon was going through after he left home. If only we, my parents and I, had been different about it all.”
I still found it hard to believe but the longer it went on and the more I found out about it, the stronger I was becoming. I was not afraid at the time and I’m sure if I was in the same situation, I might have done the same thing.
“First of all,” I continued, “tomorrow I’ll go and see this Bulmer character and find out what I can. After all, we now have something he wants. I suggest you leave in the morning for Suffolk and I’ll join you later in the day.”
“But I think you should come with me and discuss the situation with Peter,” she replied. “He may be able to see another angle to all this.”
“No ... that’s not necessary,” I pointed out. “We won’t be any further forward. I’m going to see this man on my own and, if needs be, I’ll plead for his compassion, if he has any.”
“But aren’t you afraid?”
“I’m worried for my daughter’s safety and frightened for the outcome of the trial and what it will do to Eamon. But as for my own safety ... no. No I’m not afraid.”
“That’s good,” she replied, “because I’m shit scared. I’m scared that someone will get hurt.”
She hesitated before going on.
“I still don’t see what you can do. You know nothing about these people.”
She was right. At that stage, my knowledge was very limited. I had no idea about the lengths they might go to. From the scant information I had, I didn’t see me as a threat to Bulmer. There was, however, a way to protect my child and ensure that Eamon said nothing to the police and face the consequences alone. Alternatively I could destroy Bulmer with a gun or a knife but that was from a detective or spy story and this was reality, not tinsel town.
“You know, I really don’t need all this at the moment,” she continued. “There are many, too many, problems in my life. This business had come at an unfortunate time.”
“What do you mean?”
She sighed.
“It’s Peter. Well, it’s Peter and me. Things have not been going like they should be.”
“You and Peter with problems? I don’t believe it.”
“Oh, we sure have problems. We hide it all, of course, from our friends and Annette and anyone who might just look under the surface.”
I was surprised to hear this but then life was full of surprises at that time.
“Oh, Chrissie, I am sorry. I really had no idea. As a matter of fact I’d say totally the opposite with you two. To both Eamon and me you appear to be the perfect couple.”
“That’s only a defence, a shield. Peter has been having sex with someone else. A girl he met on that course in Brighton.”
I have to be honest and say that I was not really prepared for this conversation and I wish it was not me she had chosen to speak to.
I was rather embarrassed.
“Oh, I see,” I muttered. “You mean he’s having an affair?”
“No. Far from it. They spent a couple of nights together in the hotel. It was just sex and nothing to do with anything else.”
I sighed and stopped myself before making what would have been a typical male “blokey” comment. Just having sex together for no other reason than passion really means very little more than a slapped wrist. To most men, if they can get away with it, then it doesn’t deserve a second thought. But to women it is different; and to wives, it’s the worst possible thing that can happen.
How different men and women truly are.
“And in the middle of this Eamon lands himself in gaol,” I said in the hope that we would change the subject.
She smiled.
“Yes. It never rains but it pours. But if I’m going to be honest, it’s my fault.”
“You can’t blame yourself for your brother’s predicament and for heaven’s sake, Peter is old enough to know the difference between right and wrong,” I replied.
“That’s true. But I was the one who denied Peter sex, love, passion and honesty. We did at one time have all of those in our relationship but I changed that. I’ve always been selfish, even when Eamon left home. He had no choice in the matter and I could have helped him and possibly even prevented all this. But I turned my back on both of them.”
“Now that’s nonsense,” I started.
“But it’s true. I’ve always had a problem confronting emotional issues. It’s usually the other way around in most relationships, in straight relationships, but not mine. Nick, I simply have a problem admitting it, talking about it.”
“Well, you haven’t got a problem at the moment,” I pointed out.
She was surprised.
“God, you’re right,” she realised. “Here I am telling you our innermost secrets, my confessions, and you have enough problems of your own.”
I laughed.
“Well, I haven’t got too many confessions I need to make and you know all my secrets. Eamon’s are now falling out of the closet but, believe me, it makes it all so much easier to have them out in the open. That’s probably why Maggie and I got along so well. We always talked it all through. You know, a problem shared and all that? Do you still love Peter?”
“Yes. Yes I really do.”
“Then tell him. Tell him what you believe the roots of it all are rathe
r than letting him make his own interpretation. The sex, or lack of it, may be a biological problem rather than emotional.”
“Perhaps.”
“It’s worth exploring. There’s far too much time wasted in our lives with all this. We all really need to communicate more than we do.”
“Yes, you’re right. I know you are,” she sighed. “As soon as we get back to normal I’ll tackle it. It’s the only way I can see to save my marriage.”
“But why wait until then?”
“What?”
“Why put it off until later? Why not do something about it now?” Phone Peter before going to bed – there’s a phone in Imogen’s room – and tell him what you’ve just told me. At least it will set the ball rolling.”
She thought for a few seconds.
“Yes. I’ll call him before going to sleep. I really need him now.”
She continued after a pause. “And thanks, Nick. Thanks for just listening to me.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
She sighed then yawned. The strain was showing.
“Look, if you don’t mind,” she said, “I think I need an early night and I’ll call him now if that’s okay.”
“Sure, go ahead. I’ll call you in the morning,” and with that, I kissed her goodnight and she thanked me again just for being there.
She went off to her room and dialled the number of the cottage.
Soon afterwards I went to bed but spent a very restless night. My mind was still racing over the events of the past couple of days. I imagined an enormous fight with Bulmer whom I pictured in my mind as a tall, well-dressed gangster-type character, which estate agents often remind me of. I imagined a gunfight in his office and lying flat on the floor with a couple of large, well-dressed heavies standing over me, smiling and about to pump me full of lead.
I was surprised when I eventually met him.
To say I was shaking like a leaf when I pulled up opposite the Gala Tandoori Restaurant was an understatement. Sure, I was afraid but I knew I had to get to the bottom of this and I was surprised at exactly how much courage I did have. I was forced into a situation that Alistair MacLean or Agatha Christie can only write about and the whole idea of it all was so alien to me that I began to think of it as unreal and surely not happening to little Nick Wallace from Stoke Newington. Had I known what I know now, I would have been on the first flight to anywhere along with my daughter. I’d never thought of myself as being courageous before but the events and outcome of that day would live with me for the rest of my life, and Sally considers me to be the first and possibly last of the mega action heroes.
It was nearly 10 a.m. and Chrissie had left earlier for Suffolk. Of course, she had pleaded with me not to go – a woman’s intuition I believe she called it – but I was a man with only one aim in mind (possessed, I think is the term she used). She was very afraid and I pitied her. She gave the impression that all she really wanted was to run away from her life and leave it all behind. But then she had her own reasons and problems.
From the car, I watched the building, which is typical of many in Commercial Road. It was on three floors and the shop front was covered in a thick plastic hung to resemble curtains and gave the impression that you were entering a tent in the Kalahari Desert or the home of a travelling Maharaja. Very tacky, of course, but there were so many Asian restaurants in the area then that they tried every tactic to get the punters in. The gold and silver painted sign above the front shimmered from any angle you looked at it and above that, on the next level, was a plain but large double sash window. In this, I saw the outline of a man with his back to the light, sitting with a phone in his hand. I knew immediately that it was him though from where I sat I had no idea about his size.
After smoking yet another cigarette, I got out of the car and walked toward the entrance. My mind was clearly miles away as I parked on a double yellow line without a care in the world. I knew the door was open as the cleaners, and probably waiters, were inside and five minutes earlier a delivery of vegetables had been brought in. I put my hand up to the door, pushed it open and went in.
To the left of the entrance was another door marked “PRIVATE”. The cleaners noticed that I had entered and one of them came over to me and asked if he could help. He was a rather short Indian man with a balding head and a belly spilling over his tight trousers. I had not taken my eyes from the inner door and must have said, “No, thank you.” It was clear I was not there to order a take-away and he returned to his business.
Without waiting, I pressed the button on the intercom and the door buzzed. I pushed it open to reveal a further staircase leading up to another door at the top.
Momentarily, I hesitated, took a deep breath and began ascending. The inner door behind me swung shut automatically. I was about halfway up the steps when the top door was opened and what I thought was a tall, well-built man was standing there. I knew immediately it was not Bulmer. I was later to find out this was Jacky, his assistant.
“What do you want?” he called down to me.
I said nothing but noticed how the expression on his face changed. He appeared to recognise me.
“Oh, well now. It is you,” he said. “Mr Bulmer was right. He said you’d be here.”
It was not requested that I reply and he held the door open for me as I walked up the rest of the stairs.
“Come on in,” Jacky said. “Mr Bulmer will see you anytime.”
I didn’t like the sound of his voice. It was patronising and had a rather sadistic tone. However, I was not afraid of him. It would have been easy to get the hell out of there but I dismissed that thought immediately.
Standing next to the heavy, I was surprised to find that he was about my height and build and did not appear intimidating at all. There was, however, an overpowering smell of what was possibly an expensive aftershave which made me catch my breath.
“Mr Bulmer is in his office over there,” he said and pointed to a door on the small landing.
I looked at the door and then it occurred to me that I was there totally unprotected and I really should have asked someone to accompany me for no other reason than moral support.
“Well, go on then,” he said as he pushed his face closer to mine. “He won’t bite you,” he added and sniggered. “He knows that you’re here.”
I walked toward the door and turned the handle but Bulmer spoke before the door opened.
“Nick,” he said in a loud voice, as if he knew me. “Come on in, son. I wondered when you’d get here.”
Bulmer was at his desk and stood up and came over to me. He was not how I imagined. He was smaller and dressed well but nothing out of the ordinary. He looked unsuspecting and could easily have passed for a bureaucratic civil servant from a fifties public information film. I have to say that initially he seemed friendly.
“Come in, Nick,” he said, “and sit down over here. We have a few things to talk about.”
I followed him to the sofa and remembered that all I wanted to do at that point was just listen to him.
“Drink?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“You don’t mind if I do?” he said and took two steps over to the drinks cabinet. “You can’t beat good malt before a business meeting. My old man told me that, God rest his soul, and I’ve never forgotten.”
He got himself a drink and came back to the sofa. I was slightly more at ease by then but the emotions I felt for him over the past couple of days came back to me. There I was in a place I had never been before and both Bulmer and his side-kick knew me, yet I had only known of their existence for a few hours. It seemed surreal. Things were moving fast now and I needed answers but had not given a thought to the type of questions I needed to pose.
“So how was dear old Eamon when you saw him yesterday?” he asked as he settled himself into an armchair next to me.
“How the hell do you know I saw him?” I said without thinking.
“Oh, I know everything that happen
s to my friends,” he replied and took a mouthful of whiskey. “After all, I have to protect my interests.”
He smiled and stared at me. I was no longer nervous or afraid.
“You know, you won’t get away with this,” I surprised myself by saying.
He laughed loudly.
“Oh, but I think I will,” he said confidently. “You surely don’t think I’m going to lay my reputation on the line for some stupid punter like your bum-pal who can’t even carry out a simple task without causing trouble for himself. I know everything that’s happened so you need not hide it.”
Now I was angry.
“Look!” I stood up and shouted. “If you harm a single hair on my daughter’s head, I swear ... I swear I’ll kill you.”
“Your daughter?” He laughed. “Come on, son. Me, harm a small, innocent child? What do you think I am? A wild animal?”
I was confused.
“But you know exactly what I mean. Eamon has told me about the threats you ...”
“Sit down, sit down and relax,” he said calmly and took another mouthful of whiskey.
I dropped back into the sofa.
“Your daughter, er, Sally isn’t it?” he started, “is not in any danger from me and never has been. Please, me, Joseph Bulmer hurt a child? No, that’s not the way things are done in the east end, no way. If I was to do anything like that I would not be able to walk this manor. No you’ve got that wrong.”
“But Eamon said ...” I started.
“Don’t take any notice of that,” he said dismissively. “That was only a little insurance to make sure that you did not go running to the police if things started going wrong.”
“But I don’t understand what you’re saying,” I replied.
He leaned over closer to me.
“Seems simple enough to me but let me put a few things straight for you,” he said smiling, “even though straight may be a difficult thing for you to be.”
He found this comment amusing and smiled at me.
The hatred I had for him was now showing in my face.
“I only wanted lover boy to believe I meant what I said. I knew that he would tell you if things got out of hand. You see, in my game, son, you have to be one step ahead of the pack. I’ve learnt so much about you, Nick, that I even knew you would come here by yourself.” He leaned closer to me. “You see, you are the real insurance. You are the one that will shut that toe-rag friend of yours up, not your daughter.”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded.
“Oh, Nick, you don’t get it, do you? I’ve learnt so much from the French. They’re in the big league, where I want to be, and nobody, not even that pansy you bed, is gonna ruin it. You only get one shot in life and I intend grasping it.”
In my confusion, I hadn’t noticed that Jacky had come into the room and was standing behind me. I realised too late as I caught the smell of the aftershave just before I received the blow to the back of my head. I immediately fell to the floor and remember Bulmer saying, “Sleep well, my son, sleep well.”