I shouldn't have done it, I know, but I couldn't stop myself. Before we went our separate ways, Ewan back to his London base and I to mine in the hotel, I asked him if he still had Natalie Morgan's private number. If he was curious, he didn't show it: he just produced his Filofax, copied it on to a blank note sheet, tore it out and handed it over to me.
I had been in Nat's flat once. It's a penthouse, perched on a block in Ravelston in Edinburgh. I could picture it as I dialled her number, and her, prowling around like a great cat. Make no mistake, if I'd known her in my single days… and even in some of my married ones … I'd have fancied spending more time there than I had, and exploring one of the rooms I hadn't been in. I still wouldn't have liked her, but I was never one to let that get in the way of a memorable shag.
From the moment we'd met I'd been irked by her arrogance, as no doubt had she by mine. We were two people destined never to hit it off, whether we were physically attracted to each other or not.
The phone rang out, until an answering system cut in. The voice on the message wasn't hers. It was male, and it sounded familiar: it didn't take me long to realise that the guy telling me that Natalie Morgan wasn't home, but that I could leave a message, was none other than Ewan Capperauld. She might have chucked him, but she still kept him on her tape to impress callers.
That's what I told her too, when I started to record the invited message, that she had more than a little bloody cheek. I hadn't got very far when she picked up the phone. 'Well hello, Oz,' she exclaimed. 'I'll be happy to ditch old Ewan, if you'll do me a replacement. I'd love to have your husky life tones answering my calls. What can I do for you, my dear?'
It had taken her about ten seconds to get under my skin. Her voice was different; maybe that's what triggered it off. I was used to Nat sounding cold and aloof. She'd never teased me in her life before. But now there was a chuckle at the back of her throat, and as she spoke I could see her smiling.
'You know very well what you can do for me, Natalie. You can get your greedy, ambitious doe eyes off my wife's company.'
She laughed again. 'Thanks for the compliments, darling; I could always tell you liked my eyes. I rather like yours too. When you look into them and ignore everything else there's a coldness about them that's very impressive. It's rather sad that you've become Susie Gantry's lap-dog.'
'Rottweiler would be a better description, as you're going to find out if you keep trying to hurt Susie.'
'That's good,' she chuckled. 'I prefer you when you're not trying to be nice. I have to confess I've seen all your movies, and when they let you be the bad guy, it really turns me on.'
'Keep pushing your luck then, and see how moist you get. I'm not kidding. This move of yours is not welcome, either on a personal or a business level. It doesn't make any sense either. You know sweet eff all about the construction and property businesses. If you want to expand Torrent, why not stick to your own sector? That's what your uncle would have done. By the way, I don't know if I ever told you this, but I thought he was a shit as well, and I'm glad he's dead.'
'Oh come on, Oz! James may have lacked business vision, but he did have his good points.'
'Name one.'
'When he died he left everything to me.'
I laughed; sort of. 'He didn't leave it, he was taken away from it. He was a greasy, grasping, avaricious…'
'Lecherous?' she said. 'Yes, how about lecherous.'
'Fine, if you want. Tell me, 'cos I've always wondered? Did you and he…'
Hard as I was trying, I couldn't seem to rattle her. She tutted at me.
'Unworthy, Oz, unworthy. He'd have liked to, of course, but I never gave him the opportunity.'
'You mean it wasn't necessary, you were his heir anyway?'
'Got it in one, darling. Now you, on the other hand; I loathe and detest you also, but…'
'Forget it, girl. You'll never feature in my will.'
'That won't ruin my day. So come on, Oz, tell me. I hear you're calling the shots behind the scenes these days, now that little wifie is off practising fecundity. Am I getting my seat on the Gantry Group board?'
'I wouldn't give you a seat on a scout camp latrine, gal.'
She laughed again, louder than ever. I judged it to be a little forced.
'You are a mean bastard, aren't you. You're a name, though. I may still offer you a place when I take over.'
'Dream on.'
'I am. We announced it this afternoon. Torrent is making a formal bid for one hundred per cent of the share capital of Gantry. It'll take us a week or so to prepare, but we've advised the Stock Exchange already.
Your shares have recovered a little, but with that thug Culshaw inviting court action on the company, I'm still certain of success.'
'You're crazy. I'm a private shareholder, and I'll never sell.'
'I'm advised that the court will see you as acting in concert with your wife; it'll force you to sell also. Come on, Oz, do a private deal with me now and I'll make you a director. I heard you were really wounded when dear old Graeme forced you off the board. He's on my side, you know. He was a great friend of my uncle.'
'You shouldn't have told me that, Nat. He's been hanging on by his nails anyway, but now he's history.'
Suddenly I had had enough. 'No more crap; here's the deal. You drop this nonsense, or I will break you.' She started to chuckle but I cut her off. 'In half, girl, in half, and I always keep my word.' I paused for a second. 'So you take that warning to heart, and you take it somewhere else as well. Take it to whoever's behind you. I know you, you see; you don't have the vision for all this. You couldn't set up the Three Bears to buy into New Bearsden, or use Aidan Keane to cover it up till the trap was ready. For sure, there's someone behind you, and you know what? I'm going to fucking have him as well.'
Thirty-Two.
I really was itching to be back in Scotland, but a contract's a contract, and my being in Middlesex was keeping a lot of people in work. So I resigned myself to working as hard and as well as I could in the hope that I might be able to sneak some more time off at the end of the week.
One of my great grandmothers was Irish and I suspect that she may have had a touch of leprechaun blood in her veins. Whatever it was, be it a four-leafed clover, a lucky charm or just plain random chance, the extravagant luck of the Blackstones worked for me again, just when I needed it.
For virtually all of the rest of the week, the scenes we were due to shoot involved, among a few others, Louise Golding and me. I was on set at eight sharp next morning, still seething over my clash with Nat Morgan, but word perfect on my lines and ready for action. I strolled into make-up and sat in my usual chair, in front of my usual mirror, ready to have Mathew's facial scar applied for the day, only to see Paul Girone reflected behind me instead of Liz Ostrakova, the make-up artist. Not only that, but he looked uncharacteristically hesitant.
'Oz,' he began, a trace of French showing as always in his accent, 'how's your schedule?'
I looked at him blankly in the mirror. 'You know what my schedule is, man. You're the director. You draw it up, remember.'
'No, I mean how is your schedule after this project? What do you have lined up?'
'I take a break as usual… nicely timed for the birth of my second child… then Roscoe's got me in a project in New York. Why, do you have something to offer me?'
'Maybe, as it happens, but not so soon, and that is not why I ask. If this production was to overrun, it would not be a disaster, yes?'
I turned in my chair. 'It would not be a disaster, no, as long as it didn't overrun up to my next commitment. A bit of a pisser, I have to admit, but not a disaster. What's the problem anyway? Has the writer come up with some extra scenes?'
'God no!' he exclaimed. 'This movie is long enough as it is. No, the problem is that Louise Golding has come up with spots. In English I think you call it the chicken pox She will not be able to work for two weeks.'
'Can't you reschedule? Shoot other scenes to cover her absence?'
