Mayflies Chapter Two

The Barbican, London, Saturday morning 10.15 a.m.

Luke Carlyle was savouring his first coffee of the day; Espresso, hot, strong and with a pinch of brown sugar. Perfect. He leaned on the balcony and looked at the planes circling ready to land at Heathrow. It was a day to be enjoyed. He breathed in and sniffed the smell of autumn in the city, a curious mix of diesel, damp, and decay.

In Hyde Park, the yellow-brown leaves from the avenues of trees would be piled on the pathways, waiting to be kicked and scattered by anyone who still retained their childish sense of fun. Perhaps he could take a walk down there later. He took a sip of coffee and let the bitter liquid swirl on his tongue before he swallowed. Yes, a walk in the park, sushi for lunch, followed by an afternoon in Camden Lock. Bella had a few arty friends. It might be worth checking out their galleries. The plain white walls with black and red framed abstract prints were Bella’s taste, not his. Chintz and panelling didn’t suit chrome and glass. Still. A few paintings or photos of real things might make it more homely. Except it wasn’t his home. It was in his name. He paid the bills. His few possessions lived alongside Bella’s. No, his real home was down the M4 and it was years since he’d felt welcome there. It would be nice if he could turn up for the odd weekend and tramp the fields like he’d done as a boy and a teenager. He smiled. Surly miserable teenager that should be. Didn’t he have reason, for God’s sake?

He shook off the unpleasant sensation creeping up his spine. He’d a right to be angry. All the same, he did miss the old place. Or did he just miss being young, exploring on his own with the whole of his life ahead of him?

His phone bleeped. He winced. Wasn’t he allowed one day off? He worked all the hours that he could. Admittedly, his profit line was no longer in seven figures. It wasn’t as if he didn’t try. He swiped the screen and read:

Sorry to disturb you on a Saturday. We’ve had a bit of bad news and it might mean the development will be put on hold. Two skeletons have been found around the river area. No one is sure what effect this will have. Give me a call when you can.

It was from Jack Barry. He must be more rattled than his email suggested. He wanted to talk and Luke could bet a dime to a dollar it would be off the record. He scrolled through his contacts and pressed the call sign. It rang three times before it was picked up.

‘I suppose you read the email I sent?’ Jack Barry’s voice showed none of the concern Luke was certain was coursing through his body like his own.

‘What does it mean?’

‘Like I said, the development could be delayed for a while and the builders are keen to get started. Cash flow and all that?’

Luke knew all there was to know about cash flow, or lack of it. ‘How long is a while?’

‘Six months, maybe a year. The deal isn’t signed and sealed yet and I know there are other prize pieces of land in the county ready to be snapped up. If we can’t get the go ahead soon, the grant for the social housing might not be available and the costs will go sky-high.’

Luke let out his breath as slowly as he could, as if preparing for what he was going to say next. ‘Are you telling me the plan could be scuppered?’

There was a pause. ‘The provision of low-cost housing on the site was the deal clincher, you know that. Guess where the skeletons were found?’

‘Not close to the social housing?’

‘Got it in one.’

Luke sat down at the table on the balcony. He put his head in his hands and suppressed a groan. ‘Isn’t there anything we can do?’ As someone close to key members of the County Planning Committee, Jack had known what to say and to whom. He must have some ideas. There was no way this little project was going tits up.

‘We’re waiting on the results of forensics. If it is a murder, people might be reluctant to move there and it could stop the whole lot if the police think there might be more. Our very own Fred West.’

‘Who?’

‘A local serial killer who buried his victims in his garden and cellar. That plot is a memorial garden to them.’

Luke whistled between his teeth. ‘If it’s an archaeological site?’

‘It’ll be left. There’s no money for digs and we can up the price. Imagine the dinner parties where Amanda and Brian might be sitting close to an ancient Roman villa.’ Jack paused. ‘It does mean a slight delay.’

Luke shook his head from side to side. ‘How long?’

‘That depends.’

‘I give up.’

Luke half expected Jack Barry to agree, say it was all off. ‘Oh no you don’t, my boy. We’ve come a long way since you first spoke to me about your ideas and I bust a gut to get it all passed. We don’t give up now.’ Jack’s voice made Luke sit up. This was not the fatherly figure he’d known as a child when he’d spent hours playing with Jack’s son.

‘What do you suggest?’

The tone was crisp and businesslike. ‘There are plenty of palms that still respond to a bit of greasing. I know the palms and you have the grease. Except I think a slightly different approach might be required.’

‘Such as?’

‘A visit from the concerned landowner, a few rounds of golf with the CEO of Chapman Builders. Let him win though and a lunch or two with key people in planning; you know the sort of stuff.’

‘I certainly do.’ Luke ran a hand over his stubbled chin. His father had loved all of that crap.

‘I’ll leave it with you, shall I?’

For a second, Luke was tempted to stay sod it all. Except he needed the cash. And quickly. With money, he could move on. Without it, he was stuck here. He flexed the fingers on one hand. A bunch of local bureaucrats shouldn’t provide much challenge to the Eagle of The City as he’d once been called. He might have lost his touch on the financial markets. This was a different matter. ‘You know, I think I need a short stay in the countryside. I might see you at church next week?’

‘Good idea. Best to get God onside, too.’ Jack Barry chuckled. ‘We’ll accidentally meet up when you arrive. It’s a small village, isn’t it?’

‘For the moment.’

‘That’s what I like to hear.’ The phone went dead.

Luke stood up and leaned on the balcony again. How long since he’d been back? Officially, of course. He’d had plenty of meetings in the local town, away from the eyes and ears of the village. Was it only three years ago? It had been a breezy March day. The wind had whipped across the field into the churchyard where his father was being interred in the family vault. He’d watched as his stepmother, Dao, acted the grieving widow, making her two small boys throw soil onto the wooden coffin and dabbing at her eyes in the best pretence of grief he’d ever seen. At one stage, he’d caught her smiling. She’d known the contents of his father’s will before it was read and she knew he knew she’d stitched him up. She got the farms and the Manor House; he got a couple of scrubby fields next to the school and the run-down Dower Cottage. He spoke out loud. ‘Time for round two, stepmother dearest.’

The door behind Luke slid open. He turned. ‘Talking to yourself is a sign of madness. I can’t remember if it is the first or second.’ Bella was standing in the doorway; her face in shadow. He could have bet a thousand pounds she was not smiling.

‘At least that way I can usually guarantee a sensible and intelligent conversation.’ Luke knew what she was thinking. Her impatience with him was growing daily.

‘What are you doing out here? We’ve got a table booked for brunch and you hardly look the part of the relaxed executive.’

‘It won’t take me long to get ready, unlike you, my sweet.’ He smiled. Any trace of sarcasm would be lost on her.

She tossed back the mane of black hair that snaked over her shoulders. ‘I’m going for a shower. I always thought early morning shopping was supposed to be easy, but the day trippers have arrived en masse.’ She flounced inside and gathered up the carrier bags she had dumped on the sofa. Judging by the names on them, the trip to the shops for one new outfit would net him a five-figure sum on their joint credit cards. 

The sound of running water told him she would be busy for a few minutes. He went into the kitchen and poured himself a large mug of coffee, and sat down at the marble counter. He grimaced as he caught sight of his reflection in the silver fridge freezer. His black hair was peppered with grey, his chin had lost its firmness, and there were faint lines around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. Once he could have shagged his way through half of London. Not now. If, no, when the building development went through, he’d pay off his debts and bugger off somewhere warm.

Bella came out of the bedroom. Her hair was swathed in a towel and another was anchored above her breasts and fell to her knees. ‘If we’re going to be late, you could at least pour me one, too.’ She perched on a high chrome stool and held out her hand.

Luke poured coffee into a black and white china mug and handed it over. Her face was already showing the first signs of a sulk. Luke didn’t care. If she didn’t want to go back with him, he’d go on his own. It might be the perfect way to end a relationship, already past its sell-by date. He stretched out his arms and crossed them behind his head. ‘How do you fancy a short stay in the country?’

Bella’s mouth changed from sneer to smile. ‘We haven’t had a weekend away in ages.’

‘I was thinking of a longer trip.’ Luke watched as the idea of a long and very expensive holiday registered. Sometimes he swore her eyes had pound signs instead of pupils.

‘Jennie had a wonderful week somewhere in Scotland. It had a luxury spa, with yoga classes, and served the most fabulous fresh salmon and venison.’ She leaned forward as her words tumbled out.

‘Longer,’ Luke said. He was enjoying teasing her.

Bella’s smile faded. ‘How long?’

‘I’ve got a lot to organise. I reckon it’ll take me six months.’

Her eyes opened wide as if she’d just been told Louis Vuitton was sold in Aldi. ‘Are you telling me you want to hole up in the countryside for six fucking months?’

‘Yes. Plenty of people live and work in the countryside, you know; not everyone is an urban sewer rat,’ Luke said and folded his arms across his chest.

‘I know that. I’m not stupid. But six months? Why?’

‘Remember I told you about the field where I’d got planning permission for a small development?’ She nodded. ‘There’s been a slight hiccup. A delay if you like. It might be easier if I was closer, just until the deal goes through.’

‘What about your work here?’ Bella paused. ‘And what about my work? I have a career to consider.’

Luke shrugged. ‘It’s only an hour and a half away by train and I don’t need to be in the city every day.’ He didn’t add that a number of his colleagues would be pleased to get him out of the way. The Eagle of City had been replaced by The Bird of Ill Omen according to some of them. He’d recently lost the Midas touch again and nothing was getting it back.

‘What about me? You seem to have overlooked the fact that I’m in demand,’ Bella said and pouted.

‘Since when?’ Luke unfolded his arms. ‘The last time you were earning, so were the Spice Girls. How many years ago was that?’ He counted on his fingers. ‘Ten? Fifteen?’

‘That is totally unfair and absolutely untrue. I went to three selection events last week.’

‘What for, Damart?’

‘If you must know, I was shortlisted for two commercials.’

‘I didn’t know perimenopausal women had such commercial pulling power.’

Bella slapped the mug down on the counter. Drops of black liquid bounced onto the white granite surface. ‘I am not perimenopausal. I’m thirty-five, not fifty-five.’ She fetched a paper towel and swiped at the spills.

‘You don’t have to come. You can stay here and pootle down at weekends.’ He was hoping she’d agree.

She walked back to the bin, opened it, and dropped the towel in. The lid fell with a clang. ‘You’re out of your mind if you want to be holed up in some village without shops and clubs and … broadband … Everyone knows the countryside doesn’t have decent bandwidths … and…’ She stood behind him and draped her arms over his shoulders. The smell of her perfume was overpowering.

‘You’d be surprised that some villages even have running water and electricity.’ Luke tried to appear serious.

‘You’re taking the piss again.’ Bella flounced away. ‘What you need is decent sushi, a couple of glasses of something sparkling, and a good bitch with our friends.’ She collected their mugs and placed them in the dishwasher. ‘I’ll be ready in twenty minutes and we’ll stop all this stupid talk of going to the countryside.’ She disappeared into their bedroom again, and Luke could hear the sounds of the wardrobe doors opening and closing.

Luke got out his phone. He dialled and waited. ‘What you want, Luke?’ There was no mistaking the venom in the voice.

‘How lovely to hear from you. Are you well? would be a more pleasant greeting. Never mind. I’m sure you mean it in your heart.’ Luke could imagine Dao’s face twisting with anger, resentment, and he hoped a little bit of fear.

‘What you want?’

‘Under the terms of my father’s will, the Dower Cottage is still mine, and I need it for a short stay. Make sure it’s ready for me, Mother dearest.’

Although he didn’t know much Thai, he could tell from the tone it was insulting, followed by more English. ‘I’m not your mother.’

‘Sorry, stepmother. Make sure it’s ready. I’ll be down on Monday.’ He hung up. She’d have to do as he wanted. She had no choice. He smiled as he remembered his father’s advice when he was faced with what he called insurrection from the peasants; get in there, grease a few palms, and the world is yours. That was exactly what he intended to do.