CHAPTER 87: The Virgin’s Summer, Part 27
“Push off,” I say. “I’m not interested.”
Through the internal window, I see my Master looking across at me, concern on his face.
The man continues. “As I see it, you’re going to say ‘Yes’ anyway, but if you make me work too hard for it, you won’t get paid. You’re working for Haswell now, right? I wonder what he’d say if he knew what his staff get up to outside office hours?”
He taps me with a finger, on the side of my cheek. “Think about it eh? I’ll be around again.”
My Master steps into the lobby. “Charlotte, is everything alright?”
“Um, yes, fine. I’ll tell you later. You get back to what you’re doing.”
He hesitates, clearly wanting to inquire further, but then disappears back into the office.
Francis returns with a file. “Here you are Charlotte. You can see they use the red markers for ‘Actions’, blue for ‘Notes for the Attention of...’”
I produce the minutes, which seem to be done well enough to draw no comment from anyone at all, and a couple of days later, I am called back in to act as meeting secretary again. The short, fat man is there. He looks smug as he walks past me, staring at me, and trying to hold my gaze. I look away.
Again, after the meeting has broken up, he hangs back, waiting to catch me by myself.
“Hello again, Charlotte. I was looking forward to running into you again. Have you thought about what I was saying the other day?”
“There’s nothing to think about. I’m not interested.”
“Ah, but I am, and I don’t like taking ‘No’ for an answer. So, let me put it this way. If you don’t start putting out for me, your boss in there, Haswell, is going to know all about what you got up to last year. Everyone else too. Would you like to be famous on the internet?”
The office door opens and my Master steps into the room. He glances askance at the man.
“Ah yes, you’d be James. Yes, now I remember you too. Ned Jansen’s the name. Nice to meet you again.” He takes my Master’s barely proffered hand, shaking it, smirks again and walks away.
“What was all that about?”
I keep my voice low, conscious that Haswell is only on the other side of the door. “He’s trying to blackmail me. You too, I think. He was one of the other bidders at the auction. He’s threatening to tell Haswell about it.”
He is about to reply, but the door opens and Haswell steps out. “Ah, James. Glad I caught you before you left.”
My Master looks down at me. “We’ll talk about this later.”
“So, what does he actually want?”
“Me, I think. He wants me to ‘put out’ for him. He offered me money at first, but when I refused, he said he wasn’t taking ‘No’ for an answer, and wouldn’t pay me.”
“Charming man…” My Master chews his bottom lip, pacing around the room. “You think he’ll do it?”
“Mmm, yes, I do. He’s not a pleasant man.”
“Then, there’s really only one course of action... we have to tell Haswell ourselves before he finds out some other way.”
The lift doors swoosh open in front of me, and I step inside. Just as the doors close again, Jansen steps in beside me. “Ah, Charlotte. I do hope you’ve had time to reconsider.” He clamps his hand over the panel, so that I can neither press for my floor, or open the doors.
“Push off, creep.”
“Last chance. I’m not a patient man.”
“Let me out.”
“You’ll be sorry.” He smiles and releases the panel. I jab at the ‘Door Open’ button and almost leap out of the lift, trembling and panting.
I call Francis. “Francis, is it possible for me to have a few minutes with Mr Haswell this morning?”
“Is it urgent, Charlotte?” I know that a good part of Francis’ job, as Haswell’s secretary and receptionist, is to free him from unnecessary appointments.
“Um… yes, it is really.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Five minutes later, I get a callback. “Yes, he can see you now, as it happens. Do you want to come up?”
I tap on the door, feeling timid.
“Come in.”
Haswell is sitting behind his desk, clearly working, with a scattering of documents, a laptop, a pile of mail.
He looks at me over his spectacles, his expression neutral.
“Good morning, Charlotte. What can I do for you?”
My mouth suddenly dry, “Mr Haswell. There’s something I need to tell you.”
He looks at me over steepled fingers, frowning slightly. “Yes, and what is that?”
My throat is tight, and I am struggling to get the words out. After a moment, he stands, looking a trifle more sympathetic, waving me to the couches overlooking the City view.
“Coffee?” he asks.
I nod, swallowing hard. As he passes me a cup, I gulp down a mouthful, and then cough because the coffee is too hot.
He sits there, waiting patiently.
“I’m... I’m… being blackmailed, or at least someone is trying to blackmail me and I’m not knuckling under to it, so, I think you’re going to find out anyway, and I’d rather you heard it from me.”
His eyebrows are raised. “Go on,” he says carefully.
“It’s about, James and I...”
Haswell purses his lips. “If it is to do with the nature of the... um, relationship, between you, I can see that it might embarrass you, but it’s hardly blackmail material; especially since I already know about it.”
“You do?”
“I do.”
“How...?”
“Charlotte, when a man of James’ age, however much I respect him, is quite so fulsome in his praise of a young woman, especially a young woman so, excuse me, but so beautiful, as you are, I have to question his motives.”
“He said that he got me the interview with you, but that the rest is up to me.”
He smiles, wryly, “Well, that’s true enough.”
“So…?” I say cautiously, not knowing quite where this is going.
“Charlotte, I’ve had an eye kept on you for the last day or so. As I said at our initial talk, I’m not too sure what to make of you. When I meet someone who seems too good to be true; academically brilliant, judging by your exam results, attractive, likeable, highly motivated... I start looking for the snag, the downside... “
“My exams results are genuine…”
“I know. I checked with your university…”
“Oh!”
“So, I know that that is not the snag…”
He sees my expression. “Charlotte, I had you followed, and when I got a call the other night, I went to see for myself what was happening. Remember, I’m about to sign James up as a fellow director. If he has skeletons in his cupboard, I have to know what they are...”
“You mean...?” I cringe inwardly.
“I was at the Club. I had a ringside seat in the viewing gallery.”