Page 7 of Too Busy for Love

‘I don’t know about you,’ Jock says with a weak smile, ‘but I could really use a drink. Would you care to join me in the bar?’

‘I don’t think Madame would like that,’ I say automatically.

‘Eileen, you mean? Oddly, after what I’ve been through today, I struggle to give a shit what she thinks. I’m going to have a large Scotch. Are you coming?’

I dither for a moment. It feels wrong and unprofessional but, on reflection, I realise that Jock has a point and I could do with something stronger than tea after the ordeal I’ve just been through.

‘You’re right,’ I tell him. ‘Lead the way.’

The bar is in darkness apart from the glow coming from the till, and I’m careful to pull the heavy damask curtains across the windows before turning on the lights. The last thing we need is to be spotted by any passing paparazzi.

‘Did you suspect?’ he asks as I follow him over to one of the tables in the bar, having poured him a generous measure of whisky and filled a glass almost to the brim with red wine for me.

‘Not a thing. You?’

‘Nope. I just thought she was a pernickety old woman with an eighties food obsession. I mean, who even eats duckà l’orangeany more? We must be the only place in London still serving this stuff.’

‘Technically, she’d call itcanard à l’orange. French is moresophistiqué.’

‘Yeah, likepetits pois à la Parisienne, otherwise known as ponced-up peas and carrots.’ He laughs.

‘And a generous helping ofcroquettes de pommes de terre.’ I’m laughing too. I’m sure it’s just the release of tension, but it feels good.

‘Otherwise known as deep-fried mashed potato,’ Jock howls.

‘Don’t forget the silver service. In on the left, out on the right, don’t stack the plates,’ I add, barely able to breathe for laughing.

‘It just doesn’t add up, does it?’ Jock says when we’ve laughed out the stress and recovered our composure. ‘Such a stickler for detail down here, while all along up there…’ He pauses, lost in thought. ‘Do you think the girls were coerced?’

‘I can’t think of any woman who would go into sex work if she had alternatives,’ I tell him. ‘I’m still struggling to come to terms with it though. Alicja, for example. She’s so delicate that she bursts into tears if Maria so much as looks at her crossly. I can’t marry that up with the other things Madame must have expected her to do.’

He ponders for a moment. ‘I hate her,’ he says.

‘Yeah. If this is true, and what the police showed me this afternoon would indicate that it is, I hate her too.’

We sip our drinks in silence, contemplating the enormity of Madame’s deceit. After a while, I get up and bring both the scotch and wine bottles over to the table so I can refill our glasses. Jock stares at me thoughtfully.

‘What?’ I ask him when his gaze starts to make me uncomfortable.

‘Sorry. I was just trying to work you out,’ Jock says after taking a large mouthful of whisky.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve always seen you as Madame’s little enforcer, continually on the lookout for an excuse to pick up people’s mistakes.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with being good at my job and having high standards,’ I tell him fiercely. Unfortunately, the wine hasstarted to go to my head so it comes out slightly slurred. I make a note to slow down a little. Today’s been bad enough without me getting drunk and vomiting my guts all over the place.

‘Sorry. I wasn’t trying to upset you. It’s just that we’ve never really chatted before, and I’m seeing a different side of you tonight. I’ll admit that I’ve always thought you were a bit uptight, but you’re OK, you know that?’

‘Why thank you, I think.’ I smile and chink our glasses before taking another sip.

‘What are you going to do?’ I ask him after another pause. ‘I think we can assume this place won’t be reopening any time soon.’

‘I might go back to Scotland,’ he replies after thinking about it for a while. ‘I like London, but I think I need some time back home after this. You?’

‘I’ll get in touch with the agency again. Hopefully, something will come up soon. That’s assuming the police don’t convince themselves I’m in cahoots with Madame, in which case it won’t matter because I’ll be behind bars.’

‘I reckon they know we’re innocent. There’s a reason why we’re here and Madame and Maria aren’t, don’t you think?’

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