Chapter Two
I popped into the office on Friday morning, early. I promised to leave my phone at home, or at least keep it switched off, knowing I’d do no such thing. Being out of contact was my worst nightmare and I was thrilled the day I learned that airplanes would have phones on them, even if I’d never use one because of the rates. I laughed as I drove home, patting the mobile as it sat in its cradle on the dashboard.
Not knowing where I was going became a problem when I’d packed. I wasn’t sure what to put in my small suitcase. I expected to dine out and already had a list of nice restaurants nearby, so I added a couple of shirts and smart trousers. I threw in a tie and jacket, just in case. I added bathing shorts, a beach towel, and flip-flops, hoping the weather would allow a dip in the sea.
When I was packed, an unusual sense of nervousness crept over me. I was that person who could scale a high building and abseil back down. I could walk into a room of strangers and command their attention. I was quite forceful most of the time, probably a little arrogant, but I felt unsure. I gently slapped myself on the cheek and loaded my bag into the boot of my car.
I gently caressed the roof of the Lamborghini Urus; pleased she was going on such a run. Living in London meant she didn’t get out much. It pained me to send her in for a service, knowing the mileage between that and the previous one was sometimes only just in double figures! Still, it would take me a very pleasant five hours of driving down the motorways to get to Cornwall, according to the satnav.
I cruised down the motorway, came off and, drove past Stonehenge, and then eventually, the Atlantic Highway. I could feel myself start to relax but had a pang of anxiety in my stomach as well. Maybe I’d been cooped up so long in London, in the congestion and busyness, I wasn’t used to fresh air and open spaces. I opened the window a little to let in some sea breeze.
* * *
At first, I thought I was at the wrong place. The ugliest grey rendered building stood in front of me. Maybe a 1970’s build, but whatever it was looked completely out of place in the idyllic lane with the odd country cottage dotted along it. Before I could reverse from the drive and check the satnav, the front door opened. A smiling blonde descended the small steps.
“Mr Barker?” she enquired.
I turned off the engine and opened the door. “Yes.”
She extended her arm as she approached. I closed my hand around hers and received her firm handshake. “Was the journey down good?”
“Easy enough,” I replied, even I detected the hesitancy in my voice and I saw her frown. “This weekend break is a surprise. I’m a little unsure what to expect,” I added for some clarification.
“Ah, yes, Rebecca said. I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself, Mr. Barker. Please, would you like to follow me?”
Behind her a chap moved from the front door to the rear of my car. He waited expectantly. I realised he wanted to collect my bag and clicked the key fob.
“I didn’t catch your name,” I said.
“My goodness, I’m sorry. I’m Angela and I’ll be your hostess this weekend.”
She didn’t offer any more but gave me a dazzling smile. Had I not been a little on the back foot, I’d be trying to get in her panties. She was a very sexy woman and had a mischievous look about her.
“Please, follow me,” she repeated. She turned and led the way into the ugly house.
The inside couldn’t have been more different to the outside if it tried. It was tasteful and looked more like an interior designer had been employed. I was shown into a large room with a bar at one end, manned by a guy, and sofas at the other. There were three other guests: two women and one man, who looked a little relieved to see me.
“Hi, grab a drink and come on over. We could do with even numbers,” he said, laughing.
I felt sorry for the guy. Two women, one man; seemed like my kind of day.
The first thing I noticed was how well dressed the guests were. One woman stood and made her way to the bar, just as I asked for a glass of wine.
“Hi, I’m Anna, and you are?” She held out her hand prompting me to shake it.
“Zed. Hi, Anna,” I said, putting on my best seductive voice.
“That’s an unusual name,” she replied.
I dropped her hand and picked up my wine. “I guess so. In Hebrew it meansthe Lord is righteous.Or Lord’s justice, in other words.”
“Interesting. Would you like to join us while we wait for the other guests?”
I didn’t want her to know I had no idea what she was talking about, so I just smiled and followed. Introductions were made and I had, yet again, to explain myunusualname. As a kid I’d vowed to change it until I realised the girls were kind of interested in me because of it.
“How many other guests are we expecting?” Darius asked. He was an older chap and came across as someone who had a pass from his wife for the weekend. He wasbouncywith excitement.
“Usually there are eight of us,” Anna said, a seasoned participant of these weekends, I assumed. “You’ll find the itinerary in your bedroom.”
