Ben Read online

  His father laughed, and sat down in the other wicker chair. “Good for you. How long have you got to go?”

  “Nine days, seven hours and six minutes.”

  Morrie laughed. “Well done.”

  Ben absent-mindedly patted his jacket pockets, frowning when he found nothing. “Thanks. But I have never made a bigger sacrifice for a woman than turning down that French Bordeaux. As for the sex,” he sighed, and got out his lighter and flicked it alight for old time’s sake. “I’m hoping that she'll let me indulge in that particular pleasure, when she’s ready.”

  “That’s what I was meaning to speak to you about,” said Morrie, leaning forward and speaking low.

  “Good grief, you’re not going to do a birds and bees speech, are you, Dad? Because I have to say, you’re more than ten years too late.”

  Morrie grinned. “No, no, no, of course not. They must have taught you something at medical school. But I am worried though. Very worried. Look, Benjy, she’s lovely, and I can see she means a lot to you. You’re mother and I are thrilled, really we are.”

  “There’s a ‘but’ coming up, isn’t there?” said Ben, putting away his lighter. He got up to stare out of the conservatory window.

  “Yes. But how old is she? She doesn’t look a day over sixteen.”

  “She’s eighteen.”

  “Are you sure? Did you check?”

  “Yes I checked. I saw her date of birth in her case notes.”

  “What?” Morrie looked horrified. “Her case notes?”

  Ben realized what he’d admitted and threw his father a guilty look. “It’s all sorted out. She’s with another doctor, now.”

  Morrie’s sighed. “You’re sailing a bit close to the wind, aren’t you, son?”

  “I have to. Like you said, she means a lot to me.”

  “We don’t know much about her. And what little you’ve told us hasn’t been true.”

  “Yes, well. We had to make up the story about meeting in the pub, didn’t we? It’s going to be difficult with my colleagues, too.”

  Morrie was silent – he studied the terracotta floor and his old lined face showed that his thoughts were troubled. “There’s something she let slip that’s been bothering me…”

  Ben came and sat down again, opposite his father. “Oh, yes?”

  “She mentioned a name – when she was talking about places and people she knew in Ilford.”

  “Did she?” Ben hadn’t even noticed.

  “Terry Birch, she said her mother got a job in a newsagent's shop, run by Terry Birch.”

  Ben frowned. “And?”

  “And I thought, I know that name. It sounds familiar. But I couldn’t place it. Especially as I was pretty sure the newsagent's she was talking about wasn’t run by Terry Birch, it used to be run by a family whose name was Fairchild. Fairchild’s Tobacconists. That’s what it was called.”

  “Oh, Dad, did you have to mention tobacco? I’m dying, here.” Ben started doing the thing with his lighter again, flicking the flame up and down like a schoolboy obsessed with the mechanism and how it worked.

  “There were two of them. The Birch brothers. They didn’t own any of the shops round there – not officially. But unofficially, they owned quite a few. They ran a protection racket, Ben. You know what that means?”

  “A protection racket is where the…”

  Ben’s father didn’t need the explanation, so he cut him off. “It means your Layla is part of the Birch family, as it were. Through no fault of her own, poor little innocent that she is. You get born into it. Like the mafia.”

  Ben finally stopped fiddling with the lighter. Shoved it back into his pocket. Looked up at his father’s worried face.

  Morrie shook his head – a kind of fatherly warning. “Do you understand that you’re playing with fire, dating Layla?”

  “Yes. I think I do.”

  “They’re awful people, Ben. There were two brothers – Terry and Leslie, if I remember rightly. Only Leslie got murdered. They never even found all the bits. That’s the kind of people they are, son. And you’ve just given them twenty thousand pounds.”

  Ben stared out of the conservatory window. Not wanting to meet his father’s eye. Not now.

  “You were never supposed to know.”

  Morrie swallowed. “Don’t get me wrong, I like Layla. But it strikes fear into an old man’s heart, Ben. That you’ve got involved in all this. You’re up to your neck in it now.”

  “I’m not. What makes you think that?”

  “Twenty thousand reasons, son. Twenty thousand reasons. And the trouble with blackmailers, Benjamin, is that they always come back for more.”

  “N-no…” Ben felt a sense of panic, rising.

  “Have you ever thought they might have set you up with her? Because you were the rich newcomer? How long had you been at the clinic before you met her, eh? You didn’t understand how it all worked, did you? I hate to say this, son, but maybe you’ve been rooked.”

  “Rooked?”

  “Cheated. Taken advantage of. By the people who control Layla. I’m scared for you Ben. And for her. Maybe she’ll go back to them. It’s a hard world to leave.”

  Then Ben got up. “I’m thinking I might drive down to the village. Just to get some fresh air.”

  And some cigarettes, he thought to himself.

  Layla was in the kitchen, helping to get ready for dinner by heating up a pot of home-made soup. She was standing stirring the aromatic soup with a wooden spoon, very much like the other night when he came home and she had been cooking dinner for him – and he had thought she looked so lovely – and he had even dreamed that one day he’d make her his wife and they’d do this every night. And all the rest. Eat together, sleep together, wake up to find her sweet body lying beside him all warm and soft, in his bed. But if she really did belong to the mob – even though he thought he had bought her – where did that leave him?

  She looked up and smiled at him. “What is it, Ben, you look worried?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing. Cravings, that’s all. Can you believe I was actually looking for my car keys? I was going to slip out without you seeing and get some cigs at the village shop”

  “I see,” she said. “I’m glad you admitted it. But you wouldn’t have been able to do it. Not without my knowledge.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because your car keys are in a very safe place.”

  And where is that?”

  “Inside my bra.”

  He smiled and looked curiously at her breasts for a moment, or rather – at the curves they created underneath her fluffy white sweater. He frowned and touched them, feeling for anomalies, until he found a suspicious metal object on the right-hand side.

  “Isn’t that desperately uncomfortable?” he said, keeping his hand where it was.

  “Yes, but it’s in a good cause.

  “It certainly is,” he said, allowing his cravings to melt into feelings of a different kind.

  Then, without removing his hand from the voluptuous curve of her breast, he leaned down and kissed her, passionately and extravagantly, while the soup boiled hard and the aromatic steam rose in clouds beside them. She’s perfect, he thought, sliding his tongue hard into her mouth, crushing his mouth against hers, and making her moan with pleasure. Losing himself in her sweet kiss, he let his anxieties about their London life evaporate like rising steam.

  He only broke off when he heard his mother’s voice. “Oh, Benjy, darling! I’m so glad you’re making progress. Layla and I get on ever so well!”

  Dinner Gong

  Mrs Stein came through to the main lounge where Ben, Layla and Morrie and some friends of his were waiting to be called for dinner. Mrs Stein leaned close to Layla and said, “We have a little family tradition, dear. Whenever we have guests we always ask the youngest person in the house to sound the gong, to call everyone to the table. Would you like to sound the dinner gong, dear?”

  Ben saw, and knew what his mother was asking.
To his surprise, Layla smiled and said she’d like to sound the gong. She got up to follow Ben’s mother, giving Ben a radiant smile before she left the room.

  Ben smiled too, and then caught his father looking at him.

  Morrie’s face seemed to hold a measure of suspicion. A pang went through Ben’s heart. His father knew. And at the same instant the dinner gong sounded – a resounding, booming sound coming from the dining room.

  Morrie put his hand on Ben’s shoulder.

  “What about dinner?” Ben said, desperately. Everyone else had gone in already, leaving the room disturbingly quiet, just him and his father.

  “There’s something else I need to say,” Morrie said, leaning close to his son.

  Ben was silent, dreading what was coming. He saw fear in his father’s gentle brown eyes. He was scared that his father would see fear in his, too.

  “What if she’s in on it, Benjy? What if she was part of the con?”

  “What the fuck are you suggesting, Dad? That I’ve allowed my own girlfriend to rob me of twenty thousand pounds?”

  “They’re villains. Thieves. Torturers. What choice would she have had?”

  “She’s not like them. She never wanted to be part of their world, Dad. She wants to be with me, in mine.”

  Mrs Stein appeared in the doorway. She smiled. “The salmon is going cold.”

  “I thought it was already cold?” Morrie said, with a nervous laugh.

  “No. It’s poached. With minted potatoes. Come through – we’re all waiting to start.”

  “In a minute, my love, in a minute.” Morrie waited until she was out of the room to say the worst thing of all. “Think about it, Benjamin. You were new. It was your first day. She and the man worked together, didn’t they. They spun you a line, and you fell for it. I told you that you’ve been rooked.”

  Ben shook his head, anger rising inside him. “I don’t believe that. Not for one minute.”

  Morrie sighed. “I feel bad for even suggesting it. Layla seems like a lovely girl. But I’m worried, Benjy. The idea took root in my mind, and I keep fearing that it might be true.”

  “Dad. Don’t. Every single thing you say only makes things worse. As usual.” Ben got up and stalked out of the room and into the dining room.

  Ben struggled through the meal in a black mood. Wouldn’t speak to his father. Not even to say pass the iced water. With Layla getting more and more worried at his side.

  And when the meal was over and Sylvia had disappeared into the kitchen, Ben dropped his bombshell on his dad. “We won’t be staying for coffee. We’re leaving.”

  “What?” Morrie said, with a face like startled animal. “You’re driving back to London in the dark?”

  “Yes. You can break it to mother. After we’ve gone.”

  * * *

  Layla couldn’t understand why it had all gone wrong. But she’d done as he said and packed their bags. With a certain amount of sadness in her heart.

  They crossed the hall. Shouldering their overnight bags. “We haven’t even said goodbye,” said Layla, worried about seeming rude.

  “Shush,” Ben said, heading for the big front door. “I want to leave without a fuss.”

  But that was not possible.

  “Benjy!” Sylvia’s voice was a cry of startled disappointment. “Benjy! What are you doing?”

  Ben’s mother was standing in the brightly-lit shaft of light that spilled from the doorway of the kitchen.

  “What does it look like?” he said, angrily. Heading for the front door.

  “But…Ben. You said you were staying until tomorrow. Ruth and her husband are coming tomorrow. What’s gone wrong?”

  “Ask Dad. After we’ve gone.”

  “What’s he said? Everything was going so well.”

  Ben sighed. “Dad and I didn’t see eye to eye over something that means a great deal to me, mother.”

  Sylvia came towards him, trying to stretch out her arms. “But we’re both thrilled about Layla, darling, we are!”

  “Don’t,” said Ben, shrugging her off. “Come on, Layla, we’ve got to go.”

  Layla turned to Mrs Stein – Sylvia – she was never quite sure what she ought to call her. “I’m sorry. I was having a lovely time, honestly. But with him so upset – maybe it’s best if we go.”

  With no more explanation than that, Ben stalked out to the car and opened the boot. He put the bags in and slammed the boot shut. “Layla!”

  She followed him. She’d follow him to the ends of the earth.

  Trust

  When they got back to London, it was late and they were both very tired. The flat had that ‘nobody’s been here for days’ feel about it. Cold and unwelcoming. Layla ran round trying to get the heating going. “You want a hot drink?”

  “Not unless it’s got whisky in it,” he said.

  “Don’t be silly. You’re doing so well.”

  Ben looked angry. “I’m not. And the stress with Dad didn’t help.”

  “Then share it with me, Ben. Please.”

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t bear repeating.”

  She was dead tired. She needed sleep. She didn’t care about anything else. At least neither of them had work in the morning. They could look forward to a long lie-in.

  He turned to her and pulled her near to him, kissing her in a strange needy way. “Let me lie down next to you tonight, Layla. I won’t ask you for anything, I swear.”

  She couldn’t refuse him. She nodded. “It’s your bed.”

  “It’s not the bed. It’s you. I need to be near you tonight.”

  So they got undressed and lay down in his double bed. At first he seemed distant – lying on his back, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. But then he rolled towards her, and she nestled against him. He wore an old khaki t-shirt with a round neck. The type of thing a soldier might wear. “Layla,” he said and pulled her close. She felt the satin of his boxer shorts sliding against her skin. She felt more than that, too. Warm, male hardness, up against her body.

  She tensed up with fear. If he asked her for what he had paid for, she’d panic, she knew she would. She was already beginning to dread the day when she couldn’t go on saying no anymore. It wasn’t that he didn’t arouse her – he did – every inch of his wonderful body aroused her. The sight of him, the strength of him, even the scent of him drove her crazy. Arousal was a powerful drug, but fear can be even stronger.

  He was so warm and male and just having him there with his arms around her was enough to drive all thoughts of sleep out of her mind. But he did as he promised. He asked for nothing – only the warmth of her embrace. He must have been tired, because he fell asleep first. She kissed his forehead as he slept and told him in a whisper that she loved him. It was easier to say when he wasn’t gazing at her with those intense dark eyes of his.

  Then she too, closed her eyes and drifted into sleep.

  She woke and found that he wasn’t there anymore. She checked the time displayed in red numbers on the digital clock beside the bed – three a.m. She went out to the lounge and found him. He was sitting on the couch, with a bottle of whisky on the coffee table in front of him – almost empty, and a packet of cigarettes crumpled up beside it – definitely empty. Plus an ashtray. Definitely full.

  He was kind of slumped forward with his hand loosely holding a tumbler with a dreg of whisky in it, and for half a minute she wondered if he’d fallen asleep, with his head on the table.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  He lifted his head. “Oh, sorry. I was hoping you wouldn’t wake up.”

  “Did you think I wouldn’t noticed the after effects of all this in the morning? The smoky patch on the ceiling? The booze on your breath?”

  “Knowing you. Yes you would.”

  She went towards him and tried to start clearing it all away. But he shook his head when she touched the bottle and the crumpled packets. “Leave them,” he said, and clung to his almost empty glass.

&
nbsp; “You broke your promise,” she said, in a voice stark with disappointment. “And why? Because of your dad?”

  He looked up at her, all vulnerable and sad. “He said…you must have been in on it. The deal with Ray. He said maybe you and Ray planned it. You came to see me because I was new and I didn’t know what I was doing. You tempted me – asking for my help.”

  “You’re father said that? I don’t believe you. He was so nice to me!”

  “He said he felt like a heel for even suggesting it.”

  “I can’t believe he thought that about me. He was nice to me even when we left.”

  Ben put down the glass, at last. “But, is it true?”

  “It isn’t. I swear.”

  “I want to believe you.”

  “But you don’t?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it all, Layla. The whole thing… I don’t know, anymore.”

  She shook her head. She couldn’t bear to hear this.

  He got up, unsteadily, and staggered towards her. “Then tell me the truth.”

  “I have told you the truth.”

  “What if my father is right? Maybe Ray brought you to me because he thought I would be a soft touch – new doctor, didn’t know what he was doing, easy to push around. I was supposed to fall in love with you and want to save you. They knew I’d do anything – pay anything to have you. And they milked it for all it was worth and got four times the amount of money they thought they’d get. What do you think about that theory, Layla?”

  “I think you’ve had a hell of a lot of whisky.”

  “I have. But is it true?”

  “It’s rubbish, that’s what it is. Whisky-sodden rubbish. How could Ray possibly guess that anything would happen between us? I don’t think anyone can predict who will fall in love with who – that’s why dating agencies are such a rip off. Bloody hell, Ben, next you’ll be telling me I was having sex with old Dr Barrymore as well!”