Chapter 49
A lady was waiting for Lew to open up on the Saturday of that week. She had a hoard of ink pens and said that she’d been told he’d give her the fairest price for them, which pleased him immensely because he had finally established a reputation in the business. Lew knew a lot about pens so he was on safe ground here. Amongst the collection was a vintage Waterman Art Deco fountain pen and a fake Mont Blanc. The body of the pen was a fair copy, but the nib gave the game away. The woman thought that the Mont Blanc was the real prize and Lew knew that he could have sent her away to try her luck elsewhere with it and bought the rest off her for fifty quid, but he just wasn’t built like that. He took time to explain to her why the pen was worthless and though she probably believed him deep down, she kept it and sold him all the others. He gave her much more than she had expected for them and Lew knew that he could sell them on straightaway for a substantial, easy profit. He was starting to have some excellent sales – the Pot of Gold was very well named.
As the woman walked out, Bonnie hurried in, splashed with rain from the summer morning shower. She was wearing her yellow mac again and the words ‘Bonita Banana’ pinged into his brain, and he smiled.
‘Morning,’ he greeted her.
‘Good morning. She was an early customer.’ Bonnie thumbed behind her.
‘She wanted to sell me some pens. What do you think?’
‘Wow.’ She spotted the Waterman immediately. ‘What a beauty. You have to show this to—’
‘Criss-cross. Oh yes. I’d be mad not to,’ Lew finished off her sentence.
Crispin Crossmoor-Innesworth was as posh as he sounded. He was a man obsessed by quality pens and mechanical pencils which he bought to add to his already vast private collection. And, even better, he bought everything with cold hard cash.
‘Wonderful. If only every transaction could be like that. I’ll give him a ring if you like. I’ll pop the kettle on, shall I?’ said Bonnie.
‘Yes please,’ said Lew, thinking that despite the sunshiney smile, her eyes were puffy as if she hadn’t slept very well. He called after her as she disappeared into the back office, ‘There’s an envelope on the desk for you from me.’
‘P45?’ she quipped.
‘Got it in one,’ he replied. His ear traced the sounds of the kettle building to a boil, the fridge opening, a ting of metal spoon stirring inside the cups, an envelope being torn open and then silence. Then Bonnie appeared with two mugs, walking slowly because her hands were shaking. She put them down on the counter just in time before she dropped them.
‘You’re joking, right?’ she said.
‘Nope. It’s your cut.’
‘My wage is my cut,’ said Bonnie. ‘You’re the boss.’
‘So I say what happens,’ said Lew. ‘And I want you to put that cheque in the bank.’
Bonnie shook her head. ‘You haven’t even got the money from Christie’s yourself yet. What if for some reason the buyer retracts . . .?’
‘He won’t and you know he won’t,’ said Lew. ‘The market is strong, and even if he does, as you and I both know, another Chinese bidder will snap those items up. Probably for even more. I wanted you to have the money now. I won’t argue.’
‘I don’t know what to say,’ said Bonnie, blinking hard. She couldn’t look him in the eye and she knew that he knew she was close to tears. Seven thousand pounds was a fortune to her.
‘You don’t have to say anything. Just don’t leave. My luck changed when you walked in through the door.’ He hadn’t meant it to sound as loaded with tenderness as it came out, but it didn’t matter that it did, because that was what he felt.
‘I won’t, I promise,’ said Bonnie. She wouldn’t dream of leaving this place, if she didn’t have to. But she might have to. Today was the first of the month and she hadn’t gone back to Stephen. He wouldn’t have made a threat if he didn’t mean to carry it out. She had dressed in her brightest colours today hoping to ward off his darkness but it wasn’t working. Not really.
When Lew left work later, he drove straight to Meadowhall to collect Charlotte’s birthday present: the bright red version of her favourite black Lulu Guinness handbag, along with the matching purse. He also bought a huge bottle of her favourite perfume, a pair of Manolo Blahnik strappy shoes and some Tiffany earrings. He had spent far too much, but what the hell. He felt as if his home life was turning a corner, just as the shop had. He and Charlotte hadn’t had a cross word all week and they were going to spend a lovely birthday evening tomorrow with Gemma and Jason, without the viper that was Regina. He hoped Charlotte was going to be thrilled by the surprise party.
At home, Bonnie pinned the cheque to the noticeboard in her tiny kitchen. The money would finance her divorce first and foremost, which was far more important than anything else she could spend it on. She’d bank the rest. She might need it for more legal fees.
She wouldn’t see Lew until Tuesday now. He was having the day off tomorrow as it was his wife’s birthday. She imagined he would spoil her with all sorts of romantic, feminine gifts: gorgeous shoes, a designer handbag, perfume, flowers, champagne. He would take ages in choosing a card for her with lovely words that meant something. He wouldn’t buy her presents like old-fashioned slippers, practical dressing gowns, dull hardback books that she should read like Stephen had for her.
Stephen. She shuddered as she thought about him and the loaded gun that he was holding to her head. She could feel the cold steel press against her temple, hear his finger play on the trigger, drawing out the moment of cocking the mechanism for full effect. She closed her eyes and imagined what it would be like when he finally let the bullet fly and blew everything in her world away. She wondered if she would feel release more than pain.
She was ready. Let it come. Let it all be over.