James
755 Words
James
Richard sits, the Heads of Terms document open on the table in front of him. Beth arrives and sits next to Charlotte, the two of them chattering excitedly.
“Yes, I remember him now,” says Richard. “My father introduced me when they were setting up the deal. It was for the development of what later became the Imperial Hotel and the area all around there.”
“The Imperial?” Michael raises brows. “Where James had his apartment originally? And, isn't that where you first met Beth?”
“That's right.” Elizabeth and I exchange grins at the memory of that first meeting and she grins wickedly. My c**k stirs….
Christ…. Not now….
“Bit of a coincidence that, isn’t it?”
Elizabeth chimes in. “No, actually, it isn’t a coincidence at all. I was working at the Imperial because Uncle Albert suggested I go there for a job. He almost insisted actually.”
Everyone’s attention turns to her. “Go on,” says Michael. “What did he say?”
“And when was this?” I add.
Beth frowns. “It’s some years ago now. I don’t really remember it properly. The only reason I remember it at all is because he was so insistent.”
“Alright….” says Michael, a touch of irritation in his voice. “But exactly what did he say?”
“He rambled a lot.” Beth strokes her hair, staring vacantly. “He said something like…. that I should get a real job and that I should start at the bottom. And that I shouldn’t try to take shortcuts.” Then she raises a finger. “No, he said I should make an honest living and live clean. That I was cleverer than he was and if I worked hard I'd make something of myself.”
Michael smiles. “He got that right didn't he....”
“Those were his words. And he wanted me to go to the Imperial.”
Charlotte sounds apologetic. “No offence, Beth, but it sounds a bit odd. How…. old…. Was your uncle at the time?”
Beth gives her a sidelong look. “He was very old. He was quite addled really. Not all there. But he seemed to think it was important. And to me, it made no difference. One chambermaid’s job was as good as another. I was just funding my way through college. And he was pleased when I told him I’d done what he asked.”
“Made no difference?” I laugh. “You ended up married to Richard because of it. The man who owns half the City. And you say it made no difference?”
Richard rolls eyes at me and Beth blushes. “I didn’t mean….”
Ah, crap….
When, will I learn to keep my mouth shut?
“My apologies, Beth. I didn’t mean that the way it came out sounding.”
Michael gives me an acid look, then “What was your uncle like as a person? Before he grew so old?”
Beth cheers up almost on the spot, a faraway look in her eyes. “Nice…. To me anyway. He was a bit…. withdrawn from everyone else.” Her mouth draws down. “I don't think he was a very strong man. Aunt Delia always was very strict with him. She ruled him with a rod of iron. Always telling him what to do. What not to do. If he was reading his paper and visitors came by, she'd take it from him and fold it away because he was making the place untidy.”
Michael grimaces. “I can't imagine being a child around there was much fun either.”
“Oh, no.” She laughs. “I remember one time, she had visitors and I'd be, oh, six or seven. She was serving tea. She gave me an antique china plate in one hand with a slice of cake and a china cup and saucer in the other. My mother was beside herself….”
She turns thoughtful again. “Looking back, I don't think Uncle Albert was very happy. But of course, when you're a child you don't think about such things….”
What you grow up with is normal.…
Charlotte nods....
Was her upbringing normal to her...?
Beth continues. “Of course, I was just a little girl, but I was his pet. He always made a fuss of me. He'd sit me on his knee, telling me stories and sneaking me sweets. He called me his Princess.”
Michael breaks in. “Richard are you alright?”
He’s sitting bolt upright, his eyes wild. “Oh God, I do remember him now. And there’s something else. He had a daughter, a little girl.” He turns to Charlotte. “She was a redhead.”
She stares at him, almost breathing the words. “Can you remember what she was called?”
“Shelley,” he says. “He called her Shelley.”
The chair scrapes over the floor as Charlotte stands, her already pale face draining of colour. “Short for Michelle?”
Richard stares back at her, raising helpless hands.
*****
- Writer
