The Outsider, page 5
‘Thanks for asking me to meet you. I appreciate the opportunity.’
Geraint looked pleased. ‘Well, least I could do. And it’s not all for your sake. Like I said the other night, when I see someone who could be useful to me I like to make use of them.’
‘I said I’d work for you and I meant it.’ I ventured a smile. ‘I’d probably need to know what the job would involve, though.’
‘Do you know what I do? What paid for this place?’
Two very different questions with very different answers, I thought. ‘You have a few different businesses, Mr Carter. Locksmiths, warehouses, beauty salons, dry cleaners, painters and decorators, plumbers and electricians. You’re an investor in various property businesses and a chain of pubs. You had a travel agency but you sold it four years ago and that put you on the Sunday Times rich list for the first time.’ But you could have been on it years before if you’d been able to declare your illegal income …
He smiled. ‘You’ve done your homework.’
‘I looked you up, when I knew I was coming here.’ I had, too. I wanted to know what an ordinary person should be able to find out about Geraint Carter – what you would make of him if you took his public reputation at face value. I’d found a couple of carefully worded articles that hinted at the truth as I knew it: the legitimate businesses that laundered cash for the vast illegal empire he ran, catering to the economy that existed in the shadows and centred on drugs, sex work, violent crime and fraud. ‘It’s an incredible achievement to have built up your fortune from where you started.’
‘One shop.’ Geraint leaned back and locked his hands behind his head. ‘That’s all it took.’
That and being prepared to break the rules, and his competitors’ skulls.
‘If you can see a role for me in your organisation, I’d like to work for you, sir. It would be an honour.’
Geraint dropped his arms and sat up straight. ‘The thing is, Mark, I could put you in somewhere as a manager. Nothing could be easier. Give you a few people to look after, see how you do with the business side of things.’
‘I’d do my best.’
‘I know you would. But I think I’d be missing a trick.’
I hoped my relief didn’t show on my face. I did not want to end up managing a warehouse for Geraint Carter, dealing with him by email or on the phone and seeing him once a year, if that.
‘What appeals to me about you, Mark, is that you’re effective. You see a problem and you sort it out without waiting to be told what to do. I like that.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Call me Geraint.’ He was watching me, his eyes unnervingly sharp. ‘I was impressed, at the party, when you broke up that fight between my son and my son-in-law.’
‘I just assumed you wouldn’t want them scrapping in front of your friends and family.’ I was treading carefully, all the same.
‘You assumed correctly. As I told you the other night, I find it useful to let Den and Bruno butt heads. It’s effective as long as there’s someone around to rein them in, but I can’t be here all the time, and I shouldn’t have to act as a referee. Also, there’s a time and a place for that kind of thing. I want someone around who doesn’t have a personal stake in deciding who wins when the two of them argue – someone who won’t get drawn in. Now, I can’t advertise that as a job, and most people wouldn’t be able to do it anyway, but you have the right approach, from what I’ve seen. You stand up to them but you don’t get fussed. I talked to you on Saturday after you’d sorted them out and you weren’t even out of breath. You’re a cool customer.’
My heart had been racing, even if it hadn’t been apparent to Geraint, but that was because of the threat he posed to me. ‘I just had to get in the way and slow them down.’
‘No one else stepped in.’
I grinned. ‘No one else was stupid enough to do it, maybe.’
‘Stupid is all right. I don’t need you to think about what you’re doing. You seem to do well enough by acting on instinct.’
‘So what you’re suggesting is that I just … hang around and wait for trouble?’
He laughed. ‘We’ll find jobs for you to do, don’t worry. Whatever I need you to do, when I need you to do it. How does that sound?’
‘I don’t want to step on Harry’s toes.’ Because he would break me into many tiny pieces, I thought, but didn’t say.
‘Harry knows his job. He’s here to look after me, and he does it well. He’s not going to be threatened by you, believe me.’
‘OK.’
‘I’m not interested in benefits and sick leave and what have you. I’ll pay you per day you work and I’ll put a roof over your head and give you a decent car to drive.’
‘You want me to live here?’
‘Why not? We’ve got plenty of bedrooms.’ He stretched his arms along the back of the sofa. ‘And it’s not a nine-to-five job. It’s mornings and evenings and weekends. I don’t want to have to hang around for you to get here from somewhere else. I’ll own you, but I’ll make it worth your while.’ He named a daily rate that was generous by any standards.
‘Yes.’
‘Is that it?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘You don’t want to negotiate?’
‘I’m keen to work for you.’ It was the truth; he didn’t realise how much I wanted this. ‘You’re offering me an opportunity that I’d never dreamed of. I’m not going to put that in jeopardy by quibbling about the details.’
‘Good lad. You can trust me, you know.’
I nodded, not quite able to bring myself to agree in words. ‘When would you like me to start?’
‘As soon as possible. Give notice on your flat and get rid of everything you won’t need. I don’t want you bringing that car here either – scrap it. You’ll be able to buy a new one soon enough and in the meantime I’ve got a few cars you can use. Bring exercise gear. I want you to get fit and stay fit. There’s a gym here, a pool, horses you can ride.’
‘I’d have to learn.’
Geraint grunted. ‘I don’t ride, myself. I don’t like anything that goes that fast and doesn’t have brakes. What about tennis?’
‘I’m all right at it.’
‘Good. Clean driving licence?’
‘Yes.’
‘Criminal record?’
This was a question that Opal and I had discussed over and over again. She could have faked a record on the PNC without thinking about it, and wanted to. I’d thought it was one lie too far.
‘No, by sheer luck, basically.’ I hesitated as if I was weighing up the risks of being honest. ‘I’ve got away with a fair bit in my time.’
‘I like people who look clean and know how to play dirty.’ Geraint was looking positively benign. ‘You know, I think this is going to work out well for both of us.’
7
‘Morning.’
I looked up from the fruit I was chopping. ‘Good morning.’
‘What are you making?’ Juliet shuffled into the huge kitchen, her fluffy slippers scuffing over the marble floor. She was squinting against the sunshine that streamed in through the glass roof, and her hair was tied back in a messy bun that had shed strands around her face. She looked somehow unprotected without the heavy make-up she liked to wear, her eyes small and easy to read, her mouth pale.
‘Kale and avocado smoothie. Want one?’
‘Ugh. No.’ She stretched and I looked away from her, studiously ignoring the way her skimpy pyjama top slid up. She wore incredibly brief shorts too: subtle she was not. But after two weeks, I was used to it, and used to the morning routine. The kitchen was the hub of the house, and it was where every day began.
‘Can I have a bit of banana?’
‘Get your own.’ I pointed the knife at the fruit bowl. ‘There are plenty.’
She reached past me and took a chunk off the chopping board anyway, grinning at me. ‘Sorry.’
‘I doubt that.’
‘What time is it?’
‘Just after seven.’
‘Early.’ She yawned, not covering her mouth, and went to a cupboard to get a mug. ‘Why are you up?’
‘I went for a run this morning.’ I had gone all around the estate, casually checking out the lie of the land. It was what I did, four times a week, so I could keep up with Geraint’s demands of fitness while keeping an eye on what was going on. I’d found Den and Cassie’s house, built on land to the left of the main property, and a building site on the right that would be Bruno’s home when it was finished. He had already gone through two architects and three builders. The site currently sat idle: a few walls standing in a sea of churned mud. It meant that he and Naomi were living in the main house, in the family wing, along with their little girl, Tessa, with no prospect of moving out. I spent most mealtimes trying to pretend I didn’t notice him glaring at me. Bruno had not been pleased to discover I had a new job that came with a roof over my head. I’d overheard him confronting his father as I came down the stairs one day, early on.
‘Why does he have to be in the house?’
‘Because I want him here.’ Geraint had sounded irritated.
‘What about Neil’s place? It’s empty.’
‘Mark’s not a chauffeur. Anyway, Neil’s flat isn’t ready yet. You know it still needs sorting out.’
‘What do you mean, Mark’s not a chauffeur? He drove Mum into the village yesterday.’
‘That’s not all I want him for.’
‘What else?’
‘Jobs,’ Geraint had snapped, and I’d carried on into the kitchen.
Neil was the chauffeur who had left, and I still didn’t know where he had gone or why. I’d asked Adele when I drove her, but she had been vague to the point of rudeness. I really, really wanted to get a look at the chauffeur’s flat but I hadn’t been able to work out how without looking suspicious. What needed sorting out? What had happened to make him leave? They weren’t the most pressing questions on my mind, but I stored them away for future consideration.
‘Are you busy today?’ Juliet perched on a high stool at the breakfast bar and watched me tip ingredients into the blender.
‘No idea. Your dad hasn’t told me what I’m doing.’
‘Don’t you mind not knowing?’
I shrugged. ‘He warned me before I took the job that it wasn’t going to be predictable. As long as I can do whatever he asks me to do, I don’t mind.’
‘You’re so easy-going.’
‘Just compared to your family.’ I glanced at her. ‘Bruno’s wound tight, isn’t he?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘That’s the understatement of the century.’
‘Has he always been like that?’
‘More or less. He likes to throw his weight around.’
‘And his fists.’
‘What do you mean?’ There was an edge to her voice and I looked up, surprised.
‘He had a fight with Den at your dad’s party.’
‘Oh. Yeah. They do scrap now and then.’
‘What did you think I meant?’
‘Nothing.’ She gave me a meaningless smile and I switched on the blender, letting it run for a minute. The silence afterwards was loud.
‘So are you involved with your dad’s businesses?’
‘No.’
‘How come?’
‘I don’t need to work.’ There was colour in her cheeks and her eyes were bright: I’d blundered into dangerous territory.
‘Maybe you don’t need to, but don’t you want to? You’re clever.’
‘Dad doesn’t think so.’ She sighed. ‘Carl is the baby of the family but I get treated like I am. One day Carl will be running some bit of the business and I’ll still be standing around looking pretty.’ She was staring into her mug as if the answer to her problems was at the bottom.
‘How old are you, Juliet?’
‘Twenty-three.’
‘You have plenty of time to find out what you want to do in life.’
‘I want to get married.’ A challenging stare from those blue eyes. ‘Does that seem weird?’
‘No, not at all. Your parents seem very happy. And your sister and Den have a good marriage.’
‘You didn’t mention Bruno.’
‘I did not.’
‘You don’t think his marriage is happy?’
His wife isn’t, I thought. ‘I don’t know. It’s none of my business.’
‘What isn’t?’ Geraint strode in, his hair wet. I’d seen him ploughing up and down the pool, motivated to keep up with his new exercise regime after his near-death experience.
‘The fact that I don’t have a job, Daddy,’ Juliet said smoothly, and I could have kissed her for lying so well. ‘Mark has been asking me why I don’t.’
‘My daughters don’t work.’ He kissed her on the cheek and ruffled her hair, then gave me a cold look. ‘My wife doesn’t either. I don’t have any interest in pushing them into areas that don’t concern them.’
‘Fair enough.’ I held up my hands. ‘Nothing to do with me, as I said.’
‘Don’t be mean to him, Daddy,’ Juliet said with a pout. ‘He was trying to encourage me to take an interest in your businesses.’
Was that what I’d done? I didn’t think the conversation had gone that way, but Juliet was turning it to suit her own ends. She leaned against her father and wound her arms around his neck.
‘I don’t even know what you do – not really.’
‘Just business, darling.’ He patted her arm distractedly.
‘What kind of business?’
‘You know. Where you get your hair done, where you get your nails done, where you buy your clothes. That’s all mine.’
And money laundering? I wondered. Organised crime? Protection rackets? It wasn’t all legitimate, not by a long way. I didn’t expect him to tell her the ins and outs of it over breakfast, but I would have loved to hear his version of it.
‘You’re so clever, Daddy.’
He smiled at her indulgently. ‘What do you want, Juliet?’
‘A piece of toast. And a new pair of boots.’
‘Go on. No one’s stopping you.’
‘Can Mark drive me to Oxford to go shopping?’
‘Tomorrow. Not today. Today I need him here.’
I put down the smoothie I’d been drinking. ‘Why, what’s going on?’
‘I’ve got some associates coming for a meeting. You’re not going to be joining us but I want you nearby. I might need you.’ He looked around as one of the housekeepers came in carrying a pile of ironed sheets. ‘Malee, I’d like eggs – poached – and coffee.’
She nodded, smiling. She was Thai, as was the other housekeeper, and I didn’t think either of them spoke English well. It had occurred to me that it was a deliberate choice on Geraint’s part; the less they understood, the less they could say about what they saw and heard at work. I had thought about trying to ask them about comings and goings at Haulton House but the language barrier made it impossible. Opal could have found someone with a Thai background to develop a casual friendship with them if either of them ever left the estate, but they seemed to spend their days off in seclusion in the staff quarters.
‘Good morning.’ Naomi came in with Tessa in her arms, her eyes trained on the floor as usual. She was pale. A pink dressing gown covered her from her neck to her ankles.
‘Morning, darling. Where’s that son of mine?’
‘Still asleep.’ She put Tessa down inside a playpen that stood in the corner and stretched out her arms with a wince as if they ached from carrying the baby. ‘I didn’t want him to wake up, so I thought I’d come down here with Tessa.’
‘Have something to eat. Malee is making me a proper breakfast, or Mark can whip you up one of his horrific vegetable drinks that look like pond scum.’
‘My smoothies taste better than they look,’ I protested.
‘So I’d hope.’
‘I don’t want anything.’ Naomi put a hand up to the neck of her dressing gown and held on to it tightly, her knuckles shining through her skin.
‘You have to have something. Most important meal of the day,’ Geraint said.
‘Not for me.’ She tried to smile. ‘I’ll have some tea or something.’
‘I’ll make it for you.’ I got as far as taking a mug out of the cupboard when Naomi lifted it out of my hands.
‘It’s fine. I’ll make it.’
‘No trouble.’
‘I’d rather do it myself.’ That sharp note of panic; would Bruno really mind so much if his father’s employee made his wife some tea?
‘Let her do it herself.’ Juliet set her own mug down with more force than she needed. ‘She can manage. It’s not as if you insisted on making tea for me.’
‘I was busy.’ I was going to say something bland to take the heat out of the conversation, but as I glanced at Naomi, I saw the neck of her dressing gown had come open. There was a ring of dark bruises around her throat, as if someone had grabbed her. So it wasn’t only Den who got the benefit of Bruno’s fists, I thought, and swallowed my anger. It sat like a cold hard lump of metal in my gut.
‘I’d like to make the tea myself. I want to make a cup for Bruno in case he wakes up.’ Naomi smiled without meeting my eyes and turned to the boiling-water tap.
Geraint went over to the playpen and started cooing at Tessa, who beamed back. She was an engaging child, blue-eyed and cheerful, and Geraint was utterly smitten. ‘Who’s my princess? Who’s my little girl?’
‘I am,’ Juliet said through a mouthful of toast.
‘My other princess.’
‘You spoil her.’
‘I spoiled you first,’ Geraint said without looking round, and Juliet slid off her stool.
‘You haven’t finished your breakfast,’ I pointed out, but she kept moving towards the door.
‘I’m not hungry.’
The kitchen door slammed behind her and I made a move to follow her.
‘Let her go.’ It wasn’t quite an order, but the look on Geraint’s face told me it was more than a suggestion. ‘It’ll do her good to learn her place.’
