A Winter's Wish, page 19
But Max kept walking, pushing his way through the front door to the car park area.
Jamie tried again. ‘I imagine everyone in the trading sector was quite shocked?’ It wasn’t the subtlest line of questioning, but time was of the essence.
Still no response.
Max upped his stride.
Jamie did the same. ‘It’s not every day the global head of sales of a multi-national company gets arrested.’ The shipping container was in sight. He was running out of time. ‘But in a way, you have to admire the man. I mean, it takes some balls to backdate contracts to inflate quarterly earnings and temporarily prop up the company’s stock price. Right?’
Max stopped dead.
Jamie almost ran into the back of him.
The man turned and pinned Jamie with what could only be described as a death stare. ‘Is there a point to this?’
‘No, I just—’
‘Are you police?’
Police? ‘God, no.’
‘A journalist?’
Oh, hell. Jamie swallowed. ‘Why would you think that?’
‘Then what’s with all the questions?’ Max’s expression was hard, the tight muscles in his jaw like granite.
‘I’m interested in the stock market and Sam mentioned you worked in that field. I was trying to make polite conversation.’
Max eyed him suspiciously.
What he would have said next, Jamie had no idea because at that moment Sam emerged from the shipping container, spotted her brother and came running over. ‘Max? What are you doing here?’ She hugged him. ‘Have you come to help with the donation drive?’ Her huge smile lit up her face.
Max raised an eyebrow. ‘Why would I do that?’
Her smile faded. ‘Oh, well… shame. We could’ve done with the help.’ She looked disappointed, but then rallied her spirits. ‘So why are you here? Did Mother send you? Am I still in the doghouse?’
Max rubbed his forehead. ‘Are you surprised? What were you thinking?’
Sam glanced at Jamie. ‘It was a momentary blip. Anyway, you’re hardly Mr Squeaky Clean. You and Hylton were knocking back the booze too.’
‘But we didn’t end up in the swimming pool cavorting with the hired help, did we?’
Jamie felt his hackles rise. Hired help? Wow, so that’s how he was viewed, was it? Charming.
Sam punched her brother’s arm. ‘Jamie’s standing right there. And he’s not the hired help, he’s a volunteer. Who, unlike you, is here to help today. So quit with the mean remarks.’ She offered Jamie a smile. ‘I apologise for my brother, he’s not normally such a snob.’
Max gave Jamie an apologetic glance. ‘Sorry. Bad mood. Hangover.’
Jamie nodded. He figured it was as good as he was going to get. ‘No worries, been there myself. Heavy night?’
‘Something like that.’ Max’s expression turned rueful.
‘Splashing the cash on Xanthe, no doubt.’ Sam gave her brother a loaded look. ‘That woman looks expensive. And high maintenance. You get no sympathy from me.’
Max opened his mouth as if to say something, but shook his head and backed away. ‘I shouldn’t have come. My mistake.’
‘Hey, where are you going?’ Sam caught his arm. ‘You just got here.’
‘You’re busy.’ He gestured to the multitude of people dropping off bags on the driveway. ‘I’ll come back another time.’
‘Or you could stay and help?’ Sam asked tentatively. ‘You look like you need to talk.’
Max hesitated. ‘Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing. Carry on with your… thingy.’
‘Donation drive.’
‘Right. I’ll call you later.’
‘Okay.’ Sam looked deflated. ‘Make sure you do.’
Max kissed her on the cheek. ‘Take care, Sis… I love you.’
Sam startled, like she’d never heard those words before. ‘Crikey. Right… well, I love you too, you big softie.’ But it was to his retreating back. ‘Are you ill? Should I call a doctor?’
Max glanced back and waved. ‘I’m fine. Go and save the world,’ he said, trying for a smile that failed to be convincing. ‘You raging vegan.’
‘Right-Wing Tory!’ she called after him.
‘Hipster!’ he shouted back.
She watched her brother leave, her expression concerned. ‘What on earth was that all about?’
Jamie didn’t know the man well enough to make a judgement, but his behaviour was obviously out of character. ‘Isn’t he normally like that?’
‘God, no. I mean, the name calling, sure. He’s loud and competitive and crass, but he’s never… morose.’ She fiddled with her ponytail. ‘Maybe Xanthe dumped him? Surely he wouldn’t be upset about that. I mean, you met the woman. She didn’t strike me as his soulmate.’
‘Maybe he has work problems?’ He felt bad for asking. Sam was obviously worried about her brother and he was using the situation to dig for dirt. But that’s what investigative journalists did, right? He was just doing his job.
Sam shook her head. ‘He often has work problems, but he doesn’t let them get to him.’ Picking up a bag of bedding, she slung it over her shoulder.
Jamie picked up a bag of his own. ‘What kind of work problems?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Demanding clients. Pressure to make a stack of money. Poor economy, stuff like that. The recession affects everyone, even loaded stock brokers.’ She headed into the shipping container and threw the bag on top of the pile.
He followed her. So Max did talk to her about his work then? ‘Sometimes during difficult times people are persuaded to make decisions they wouldn’t normally make.’
Sam turned to look at him. ‘How do you mean?’
He pretended to think about it. ‘I don’t know much about it myself. But I have a friend who dabbles on the stock market and he tells me sometimes traders feel pressurised into leaking or buying information to ensure a killing.’
She looked shocked. ‘Max would never do that. He’s a combative arsehole at times, but he’s not a cheat.’
‘I’m not saying he is,’ Jamie quickly backtracked. ‘But from what I’ve heard, they don’t see it as cheating. More like… levelling out the playing field.’
She dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. ‘It’s not Max’s style. He’s had knockbacks before. Lost shed-loads of money, but he’s always bounced back. He’s never resorted to illegalities. He doesn’t have to – he’s loaded. And besides, he knows what a scandal would do to our parents. He’d never risk that. He’s too scared of our mother, for a start.’ She headed out of the container. ‘Whatever’s wrong, it’s not work related.’
Jamie followed her. ‘Do you want to go after him? I can hold the fort here, if you like.’
‘No, I’m sure whatever it is, it can wait.’ And then she stopped and turned to him. ‘Thanks, though. I appreciate the offer.’
‘No problem. That’s what mates do, isn’t it? Help each other out.’
A flash of what looked like disappointment crossed her face. ‘Mates, right. I forgot.’ With that, she turned and walked off.
He was left to contemplate his next move and ignore the sinking feeling in his gut. Not only was he doing a rubbish job of pretending he hadn’t fallen for her, he was also no nearer to finding out what Max Tipping was up to.
Was Sam right when she said her brother would never get involved in anything dodgy? Or was the man up to his eyeballs in scandal and his sister clueless to his shady dealings?
Until he knew for certain, he’d better stick around. Because no matter what his boss said, if things went pear-shaped then Sam would need a mate. And he’d promised to be that. A mate. Nothing more.
Yeah, right.
Chapter Seventeen
Monday, 3rd December
The temperature outside was eight degrees but it felt colder. The wind had picked up, stripping the trees of their leaves and making everything look more wintery. It was gone eight p.m. and The Crash Pad had closed its doors for the night. All fifteen beds had been taken and the guests had been fed and were either currently watching TV, lazing about in the recreation area, or tucked up in their beach huts exhausted. Norah and Fraser were on the night shift, so Sam was free to go home and try to catch up on some much-needed sleep.
Except she couldn’t do that. Not yet.
Opening the rear doors of her recently acquired white van, she began loading the garments into the back, still amazed by how much more space she had.
The donation drive had been a massive success. Most of the bedding donated had been of decent quality and was clean and in good condition. They’d been able to prepare over two hundred takeaway parcels, which would keep them going for several months.
They’d begun the trial last night and had given away seven sets of bedding, complete with a tent, a wash kit and a hot meal. Despite being told there was ‘no room at the inn’, the teens and young adults being turned away had seemed delighted with their parcels, reacting as though Santa had arrived bearing gifts… which was satisfying and heart-breaking in equal measures.
But it wasn’t enough. She needed to do more. Not just for those approaching The Crash Pad for assistance, but for those who weren’t – which was the driving force behind her new project.
The shelter door opened and Jamie appeared, having finished his volunteer shift for the evening. Thankfully, the awkwardness following their swimming pool encounter had faded as the week had progressed and they’d been able to move past feeling embarrassed and become… well, maybe not ‘mates’, but they were certainly on friendlier terms.
He stopped by the van. ‘What’s all this?’ he said, inspecting the pile of clothing draped over the railings. ‘I thought you were heading home?’
‘I will be soon. This is my latest initiative,’ she said, lifting one of the padded jackets. ‘As well as bedding, several people donated coats, gloves, and scarves on Saturday.’
He rubbed his arms, his thin grey sweater no match for the biting wind. ‘I’m guessing you have a plan to use them?’
She nodded. ‘I want to distribute them to people sleeping rough. I need to do some more research into where homeless people hang out in Streatham, but in the meantime, I’m going to let people come to the coats, rather than the other way around.’ She threw another pile of clothing into the boot. ‘It might mean some coats get nicked, but if it keeps a few people warmer, then it’s worth the risk.’
He leant back against the railings. ‘So, what’s the plan?’
‘I’m going to attach the coats to trees and lampposts, and anywhere else that’s visible with a note pinned to the front.’ She showed him one of the printed signs. Please only take me if you’re homeless. ‘Tucked inside the pockets of each coat is a scarf, a pair of gloves, a pair of thermal socks and a chocolate bar.’
He looked puzzled. ‘People donated socks?’
‘Well, no, I had to buy the socks… and the chocolate bars, but everything else was donated. I didn’t want to see it go to waste. What do you think? Is it a good plan?’
He pushed away from the railings. ‘It’s a great plan, but you’re not doing it alone.’
She waved away his concern. ‘I’ll be fine. I won’t venture anywhere unsafe. I’ll leave the coats in public places.’
His wavy hair lifted in the wind. ‘I still think someone should come with you.’
‘There isn’t anyone available.’ She loaded more coats into the van.
‘There’s me.’
‘You’ve done your shift for this evening.’
He picked up the last pile of coats. ‘So have you.’
‘Yes, but you were on the night shift last night. You must be exhausted.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Seriously, Jamie. I’ll be okay. Go home and get some sleep.’
‘I will once we’re done. And two people means it’ll get done quicker. Then you can get home to bed too.’ He dumped the coats in the van and shut the doors.
She could tell he wasn’t going to be dissuaded. ‘In that case, thank you. I appreciate your help.’
‘Good. Because I wasn’t taking no for an answer.’ He opened the passenger door. Or tried to. It was stuck and needed a good yank. ‘A little different to the Merc, huh?’
Her hands went to her hips. ‘Are you going to criticise my van now?’
‘I wouldn’t dare. I’m just saying, it’s quite a change.’
‘Yeah, well, as you pointed out, driving around in a Merc wasn’t exactly appropriate.’ She climbed into her new van, still getting used to the smell of plastic rather than luxury leather… which, as a vegan, was a definite positive.
He climbed in beside her. ‘I hope that’s not why you changed it? You shouldn’t take any notice of anything I say. I told you, I was being a judgemental prick.’
‘I know.’
He laughed.
She gave him a half-smile. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. I changed my car because it was the right thing to do,’ she said, starting the engine. ‘I needed something more practical.’
‘Well, this is certainly practical.’ He took in the basic dashboard and rock-hard seats. ‘Not a luxury gadget in sight.’
‘And it’s cheaper to run and does more miles to the gallon. Plus, the boot is huge, which means I don’t need to visit the wholesalers so often. If I’m going to distribute coats on a regular basis, I’ll need the appropriate transportation.’
‘You want to make this a regular thing?’
‘I figured if we held donation drives throughout the year, we’d collect enough stuff to run the project every winter.’
‘Nice idea.’
‘I think so.’ She pulled away, having to floor the accelerator to get the economic one-litre engine to respond. It certainly didn’t have the power of the Merc.
‘Is it helping having a commercial washing machine?’
‘Crikey, yes. It saves so much time, not to mention money.’ She glanced at him as they pulled onto the main road. ‘I never really thanked you for getting me that, did I?’
‘Sure, you did. I’m just glad it helps.’
‘Can I repay you for it? I have money left over from the sale of my car.’
He gave her an exasperated look. ‘I told you, it was a gift. Keep the money. You’re bound to need it for something else. Repairs for this probably,’ he added, when the glove compartment door flopped open.
She reached over and shut it. ‘Well, I’m very grateful. Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’ He smiled and once again she was struck by how handsome he was, even in the dark.
Not that it mattered. But whereas she used to think he was all looks and no substance, she had to admit her opinion of him had changed. He was a decent bloke. Which didn’t help dampen her attraction towards him. Maybe if he’d remained a judgemental grump, it would be easier to ignore him.
She sighed and turned onto Ambleside Avenue, wondering which house belonged to Harold. The elderly man still came into the shelter every day for his lunch, wearing his new slippers. He seemed happy enough, and the kids liked him, so she didn’t see any harm in allowing him to use the facilities.
She glanced at the houses lining the road. Some of the properties were grand, others had been converted into flats. She spotted a cute bungalow with a neat front hedge and coloured Christmas lights flashing in the windows. She hoped that was Harold’s home, he deserved to live somewhere nice.
The traffic lights were in her favour and she swung onto Tooting Bec Road. ‘How was the night shift? Fraser said it ran smoothly.’
‘It did.’ Jamie turned to look at her. ‘He’s an interesting character, isn’t he?’
‘Fraser?’ She indicated right and pulled into the lido car park. ‘I suppose he is. I’ve got a lot of time for Fraser. He’s one of the good guys.’
‘He’s had a hard time though, hasn’t he?’
She parked under the overhanging trees. ‘Did he tell you about himself?’
‘He did, yeah. About how he joined the army at sixteen, but had to be medically discharged a few years back with PTSD. I didn’t realise he’d had problems with alcohol. But he said he’s working hard to remain sober so he can regain access to his kids. He’s only allowed supervised visits at the moment.’ He unbuckled his seatbelt and then stilled. ‘Shit. Please tell me you know all this and I haven’t just dropped him in it?’
She opened the van door. ‘Don’t worry, Fraser wanted me to know everything before I took him on.’ She climbed out and went around to the boot. ‘But he doesn’t tell many people, so keep it to yourself, okay?’
‘Of course.’ He looked around. ‘Where are we?’
‘Outdoor swimming pool. It’s one of London’s hidden treasures, it’s been here for over a hundred years. Haven’t you ever been?’
He shook his head. ‘Not much of a swimmer.’
‘Really? Didn’t you learn as a kid?’ She slipped on her hoodie and zipped it up.
‘Not really, no.’ He broke eye contact.
Had she touched a nerve? She hadn’t meant to.
She handed him a couple of coats. ‘You know, Fraser must like you. It’s not usual for him to open up like that. Apart from Norah and Emily, I don’t think many people know about his background.’ She picked up a few more coats and shut the doors.
‘It was a quiet night, so we played pool. I guess we ended up… sharing.’
She headed for the trees. ‘A budding bromance, eh?’
He followed her. ‘He started off telling me about Afghanistan and how he lost his leg. One thing led to another and we ended up talking about our lives.’
Unzipping the first coat, she draped it around a tree. ‘And what information did you share with him? Or aren’t I allowed to know?’
‘Nothing very exciting.’
‘Fair enough. It’s your business, I won’t pry.’ She zipped up the coat and fixed the sign to the front. But having said she wouldn’t pry, she couldn’t resist pointing out the imbalance in their relationship. ‘It occurred to me the other day I don’t really know much about you. Anything, in fact. And you know all my dirty little secrets.’
