Master of the House

‘You don’t get to come,’ puffed Sasha. ‘If you come, you get the cane all over again.’ She smacked her bottom rhythmically for the last few thrusts. When Voronov made a tight, high noise in his throat, the whole strange affair ended.

Sasha and Puss retired to sort their rumpled selves out while Voronov tried to restore his impeccable front.

‘Drinks for everyone,’ he said. ‘I think a break is in order before we put this Lulu through her paces.’

The subs filed over to a side table and prepared the tops’ drinks of choice.

I looked up at Joss, who indicated that I should follow them.

‘We need to get him alone,’ I whispered, and he nodded.

When I came back, with a glass of water for Joss, he was conferring with Voronov, their voices pitched very low.

‘What is it you have to say to me that cannot be said here?’ Voronov was saying. ‘If you want to discuss the lease or the Hall, this is not the time or place. You can call me in office hours.’

‘It’s nothing to do with that,’ said Joss. ‘It’s a personal matter. I really think some privacy would be appropriate.’

‘Must it be now? I want to watch this Lulu –’

He broke off, narrowing his eyes at me.

‘Have we met?’ he asked abruptly.

‘Yes,’ I said, my heart dropping right through the soles of my feet. My breathing was chaotic as I added, ‘A few years ago. In Budapest.’

‘My God, I think I remember. The shopping mall I was building? I took you to Costes for dinner.’

‘Yes, Costes. That’s right.’

‘I’m sorry, I forget your name,’ he said, then he burst out laughing. ‘Of course. It’s Lulu, right? You ditched me. You wouldn’t come back to the hotel. Well, well, well. How small is this world, eh, and how the fates play with us.’

There was less geniality in his smile now; it had become a rapacious thing.

‘I don’t take rejection well,’ he added.

‘Neither do I,’ I said, speaking through lips that seemed numb, frozen almost. It was fear that did it.

‘I’m sorry? Rejection? I did not reject you.’

‘Yes, you did. Before I was born.’

Joss interposed, ‘I did say this was a conversation best held in private –’

‘Shut up,’ said Voronov. ‘I want to hear what Lulu is saying. What are you saying?’

I took a deep breath. ‘I’m saying that my name is Lucy Miles. Lucy-In-The-Sky-With-Diamonds Miles. My mother is Karen Miles. I believe you know her.’

His gaze, so piercing, like glittering knife blades coming down at me on the field of battle, almost made me run. But I held my ground, held his eyes, held my pride and my self-worth high and firm.

I was aware of Joss standing nearby, radiating a much-needed comforting, if anxious, presence, but he was on the periphery of my vision.

‘Is this true?’ he said after a long and horrible silence.

‘You contacted my mother earlier this week,’ I said. ‘You visited her at her market stall. You said you wanted my number.’

‘You’re a journalist,’ he said suddenly and loudly.

Everybody looked over.