Page 55 of First Blood

‘Dry white wine still?’ he asked, as she approached.

‘Of course,’ she said, taking a seat.

She’d seen photos of him in the press, normally when he opened a new food packaging plant and the photographer had been kind to him. Twenty years had added roughly that number of pounds to his stomach and more than a smattering of silver strands to his head. Despite that there were still traces of the attractive man she had known.

They’d had a thing in their early twenties, before he’d met Patricia and she’d found her purpose. It hadn’t ended so much as fizzled as they’d shared less and less in common. But the sex had been great.

‘So, why the call after all this time?’ he asked, getting straight to the point.

‘Money,’ she said, matching his directness but with a softening smile.

He threw back his head and laughed. ‘You never did beat about the bush, did you?’

She shrugged. ‘If you want something you have to go get it,’ she said. ‘Take you, for example, opening your third packing plant in the Midlands in the last five years. That’s a lot of plastic containers…’

‘Hey, we’re as environmentally friendly as we can…’

‘Of course,’ she said, waving away his protestations. Marianne didn’t care for the planet as much as she should do. Her priorities lay elsewhere. ‘I meant that’s a lot of food being packaged. Your rate of expansion is pretty impressive.’

The laughter left his eyes. ‘Don’t be fooled. My mortgage and loan payments would make you weep.’

She didn’t doubt it but his last set of filed accounts available to view at Companies House showed a healthy net profit despite the outgoings.

‘We are a charity, you know,’ she said, taking a sip of her wine. She allowed his business brain to analyse the tax implications of that fact.

He hesitated but shook his head. ‘I can’t right now, Marianne. I’d love to help out but I just can’t.’

‘Come on, Derek. It’s Christmas. Surely you can spare something. You know it’s for a good cause and the women in my care have suffered—’

‘Honestly, I can’t,’ he said, cutting her off. No one ever wanted to hear the details.

‘Maybe just a small personal donation?’ she pushed. She didn’t have a reputation for extracting money from stones for nothing.

His expression remained firm. ‘The kids’ school fees are coming up, and Patricia’s got her heart set on a new Lotus.’

Marianne worked hard to keep the smile on her face. He spoke of private school fees for his three girls and a six-figure car for his wife. She was talking of trying to raise funds for roof repairs and damp proofing not to mention new bedding and towels needed throughout the centres.

She opened her mouth to try again.

‘Honestly, Marianne, I can’t,’ he said holding up his hands. ‘Please don’t ask me again.’

She forced the tension from her face and smiled in defeat. ‘Oh well, you can’t win them all.’

‘Thank you for understanding,’ he said, taking a sip of his drink.

‘So, how are Patricia and the kids?’ she asked.

‘At a Christmas ice show in town this evening,’ he replied.

She’d asked how they were not where they were.

She lifted her gaze slowly to meet the question. And gave him her answer.

Five minutes later she was back in her car.

Oh well, you couldn’t win them all, Marianne reasoned with herself. The man had refused her request for financial assistance but he was now following her to a hotel room she’d already booked. She thought of all the women who relied on her for help. Nothing trumped their safety and security.

She glanced again into her rear-view mirror to see his Mercedes was parked behind her, waiting. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to ensure the safety of her women.