Warhol's Prophecy

wandering into the bathroom every now and then to check on the bath level.

The trade fair had proved even more of a success than he’d hoped. He was looking forward to telling Frank Burnside about the successful deals. Hopefully he’d have another in the bag after this meeting tonight.

Like most business deals, it required a certain amount of practised bullshit. Rob had to pretend to care about his would-be client’s private interests, about their families, about where they were going for their holidays.

The usual bollocks.

But he was gifted in the art of duplicity. More so than his partner.

Rob smiled.

Frank Burnside had a habit of looking bored after about ten minutes, whereas Rob himself could maintain an aura of feigned enthusiasm for as long as it took to close the deal.

He wasn’t looking forward to the forthcoming session. Both his potential clients had mentioned that they liked a drink – Rob’s interpretation being that they intended staying in the bar all night getting pissed, and running it up on his room bill. That didn’t bother him too much, but he wasn’t a great drinker himself, and didn’t relish the idea of getting smashed when he had another heavy day ahead of him tomorrow.

Still, he mused, needs must when there’s a fucking great contract at the end of it. So he’d smile, he’d laugh in all the right places, he’d even pretend he gave a shit when one of the clients announced that he was a Manchester United supporter. When normally his inclination would be to spit in the bastard’s beer.

Such was business.

He checked the bath again and began to undress.

The knock on the bedroom door startled him.

‘Shit,’ he murmured.

He’d obviously forgotten to put out the DO NOT DISTURB sign. The maid was about to come in and draw his curtains, turn down his bed, and do whatever else she had to do.

He wrapped a towel around his hips and opened the door.

Sandra Bennett smiled in at him.

18

‘WHAT THE HELL are you doing here?’ Rob stood motionless, staring at her.

‘That’s a nice greeting after I’ve come all this way,’ she said. ‘Aren’t you even going to ask me in?’

He exhaled and stepped aside, allowing her inside the room.

She was carrying a small overnight bag, which she dropped on the end of the bed beside his suit.

Rob slammed the door closed, and stood looking at her.

Navy blue trouser suit. Black ankle boots.

She ran a hand through her blonde hair.

‘What are you playing at, Sandy?’ he said. ‘Why are you here?’

‘It looks like you were expecting me,’ she said, smiling, nodding towards the towel around his hips.

He took a step towards her.

‘I’m serious,’ he snapped. ‘This isn’t a fucking game.’

‘What’s the problem, Rob?’

‘Number one, I’ve got a meeting with clients in less than an hour. Number two – you. You’re the problem.’

‘I had to come.’

‘Why, for Christ’s sake? It’s all over between us, you know that.’

‘We never talked about it – about us.’

‘There is no us. There never was, and there can’t be. I thought you understood that.’

‘Why not? That was one of the things we never discussed. It just finished between us, no explanations.’

‘My wife found out. What more fucking explanation do you need?’

‘I just wanted to talk to you. Perhaps you’re right, it’s over – but we’ve never had the chance to talk about our feelings.’

‘Jesus, I don’t believe you, Sandy. What do you think’s going to happen if Hailey finds out you’re here?’

‘She won’t.’

‘Just like she wasn’t ever going to find out we were having an affair in the first place?’

‘She wouldn’t have found out if you’d been more careful. If she hadn’t found that receipt from our trip to Leeds.’

‘So now you’re blaming me? You knew there was no future in it anyway.’

‘So you say.’

‘Yes, that’s what I say, because it’s true. Aren’t you listening to me? If she finds out you’re here she’ll throw me out, and I dread to think what she’ll do to you.’

‘I don’t want her to find out either. The last thing I want is some crazy, jealous wife on my doorstep. Look, Rob, I came here because I wanted to see you, to talk to you. I know it’ll probably be the last time we’ll be together. Just let me say goodbye, that’s all.’

‘I’ve got to go,’ he said, looking at his watch. ‘I’ve got to meet clients.’

‘So what do I do? Are you going to throw me out? I can’t get home now. The last return train went half an hour ago.’

He stood with his hands on his hips, his breath coming in short gasps.

‘How long will your meeting be?’ she wanted to know.

‘Fuck knows,’ he rasped. ‘I could be down there until the early hours of the bloody morning.’

‘I’ll wait up here for you.’

‘Sandy—’

‘Please, Rob, I only want to talk.’

He spun away from her.

‘Fuck it. Wait here, then. Watch the TV, order some room service, do what you want. We’ll talk when I get back.’

He began to dress.

‘You might as well have a bath,’ he told her. ‘There’s one waiting in there.’ He hooked a thumb in the direction of the bathroom.

She smiled as she saw him disappear into the bathroom. He emerged a moment later, hair combed, smelling of aftershave.

‘Don’t answer that phone if it rings,’ he said, jabbing a finger towards the bedside cabinet. ‘I’ll see you later.’

And he was gone.

Sandy Bennett’s smile widened and she began to unpack her overnight bag.

19

‘WHEN IS DAD coming home?’

Hailey looked at her daughter with an expression of bemusement, as if she’d just asked her to explain the Theory of Relativity or the Origins of the Universe.

She lowered the book she’d been reading to Becky, and blinked hard.

The child was sitting up in bed.

‘He’ll be home tomorrow night,’ said Hailey. ‘Why?’

The little girl slid down beneath the sheets and pulled them up around her neck.

‘Dad does all the different voices when he reads my stories,’ Becky explained.

‘And I don’t?’ said Hailey, feigning annoyance. ‘My stories not good enough for you, eh? Right, that’s OK.’