‘The dining table and chairs and the sideboard. Some of the bedlinen and glassware and flatware. A TV—’
‘The Bang & Olufsen?’ He was stunned.
‘Yes, sir. And some of the ornaments and rugs.’
‘Everything of value.’ He spoke almost to himself.
‘Shall I serve you lunch? On a tray in here, perhaps?’ Encarna tried to hide her embarrassment.
‘I don’t think I’m very hungry, Encarna. Go home – I can get something later. I’d just like to be alone,’ he said heavily.
‘Are you sure you’ll be OK?’ His housekeeper looked concerned. ‘Miss Jazzy will be back from Boston tonight. I have her room all ready for her. Mrs Williams told me that she’s staying with you for a couple of nights,’ Encarna said comfortingly.
‘That’s nice. Great news. She did tell me that she’d see me. Thanks, Encarna. I’ll be fine. You head home.’ He unbuttoned his coat and unwound the scarf from around his neck and sat in the empty silence. He heard the housekeeper gathering her things, call a subdued goodbye, and then the door closed and Des felt more alone and unnerved than he had ever felt in his entire life. Weariness enveloped him. He should try and catch up on his work, he supposed, but he couldn’t face it.
Colette was a tough cookie; he’d always known that. But he’d certainly underestimated her. There was a cold, hard side to her that he’d seen her use to good effect throughout their marriage. He’d seen her cut people who had offended her out of her life. The guillotine effect, he’d called it. He had never believed he would be suffering the same fate. A thought struck him and he stood up and hurried into his walk-in dressing room and switched on the light. He parted his suits hanging on the rail, and slid back the false panel to reveal a safe. He twisted the dial. Even before the door swung open he knew the gold was gone. Colette had taken her pound of flesh and then some.
His mouth felt dry and he made his way to the kitchen fridge to get a can of cold tonic. He cracked it and took a slug and noticed an envelope propped up on the counter with his name on it, written in his wife’s flamboyant script.
‘What new hell?’ he muttered, opening the envelope warily, sliding out a torn document. ‘Aw crap!’ he swore. No wonder Colette had cleaned him out. He’d forgotten about the damn loan application. She must have found it in his briefcase. A small yellow Post-it fluttered to the ground. He picked it up.
The Deal Breaker was written on it in Colette’s usual flourish. He knew what she was saying. Not Kaylee, and not even Madoff, would have split them up. She would have dealt with those. But trying to lure her into signing over the apartment was a step too far. No wonder she wanted a divorce. How could he blame her? But she hadn’t gone quietly into the night. Not Colette. She had been as ruthless and calculating as he had ever been. The guillotine had fallen and how.
‘Nice one, honey.’ Des raised his drink to his absent wife.
He wondered if she would get the gold unchecked through Customs. All might not yet be lost. If she were caught bringing out more than the allowance, she’d have to leave it Stateside and pay a fine as well. He wondered what flight she was on. Had she left? Was there any point in ringing Customs in JFK and alerting them? His thoughts darted here and there.
‘Ah hell, she’s probably long gone,’ he said aloud. She’d left the apartment the previous day and probably caught a red-eye to London. Colette didn’t like hanging around when she had somewhere to go. And it seemed that she couldn’t shake the dust of NYC off her feet quick enough. She was probably in the UK right this minute fighting jet lag.
Exhausted, he took off his coat and scarf and left them draped over the bar counter and walked back into the den. He lay down on the sofa wishing he was back in Lennox Hill with nothing to worry him, only what meal to select from the menu and what TV channel to watch. Had Colette told Jasmine about the ‘Deal Breaker’? Would he look into his daughter’s eyes when she came back from Boston later and see disgust and derision? His daughter had taken the news of the affair reasonably calmly. Affairs were commonplace in their circle. She had grown up hearing about this marriage or that one breaking up. But attempted deliberate fraud perpetrated against your mother was another matter entirely, and as she had made clear, Colette would never forgive him for that. And if Jasmine knew about it, he was sure to get plenty of flack from her. A prospect he did not relish.
His eyelids drooped. He was drained after all the unsettling trauma and being back out in the real world again. Des drifted off to sleep and only awoke when faded dusk had settled on the city and the room was dark and still. He had never felt more alone.
‘Thank you, that’s lovely, very chic!’ Colette approved, loving the subtle tones of her new golden-honey shade. ‘Wonderful cut.’
‘It’s a very good colour on you, Mrs Williams,’ the stylist complimented, holding the mirror this way and that so that she could view her new style from every angle. Colette stared at the reflection of her immaculately made-up face, framed by her newly cut and coloured hair, and had to admit no one would guess that she was going through a life-changing trauma that had knocked her for six. She looked like a woman in her late thirties, she approved signing her name and room number and making sure she gave a generous tip, seeing as Des was
