Craig drinks. ‘It’s not really my style to be pushy though.’
‘Make it your style. If you don’t ask, you don’t get. Some people are shepherds and some people are sheep. You’ve got to be a shepherd.
People
like being told what to do. They may not realise it, but they do. If you tell someone to buy a house or a flat, more often than not they’ll follow your instructions. People don’t like thinking for themselves, they don’t
like making decisions. They much prefer to be told what to think. Great men don’t sit around waiting for someone to ask them to become leaders, they go out there and get it. You’ve got to take the same approach.’
‘OK.’
‘The point is, Craig, you need to assert yourself more. You’ve got to fight for every last deal out there. It’s a competitive market and you’ve got to have a winner’s attitude. A winner doesn’t sit in the office on the internet. A winner gets out there and sells.’ Christian takes another gulp. ‘You’re not here to make friends, Craig. If you upset a few people along the way, it don’t matter. If you see someone from Crouch and Giles, or Swann, or Griegsons, remember these people are your enemies. Every house they sell is money out of your pocket. If people are stalling on you, or not showing up at viewings, phone them up and have a go at them. They are costing you money.’
Craig looks at the photograph hanging on the wall between them. It is the pub from the time it was a temperance hall. ‘I’m trying my best and doing as much as I can,’ he says.
‘I’m not interested in you trying your best. I’m interested in you putting sales on the board. I’d much rather you didn’t try at all and sold ten houses a week.’ Christian sniffs and rubs his nose. ‘The art of
selling
is making someone buy something they don’t want. Some people say that it’s convincing people to buy something they never knew they wanted, but I don’t agree. The great salesmen sell people things they know they don’t want but still buy anyway. That’s the approach you need to take. It’s a battle of wills. You’ve got to wear people down. Selling is an art form, a science. I’ve got books at home. You can buy them off me.’
Christian finishes his third pint. ‘The more you sell the more money you make. If you don’t sell then everyone suffers. You do like money don’t you?’
‘Of course.’
‘If you don’t have money, you can’t buy, and if you can’t buy, you can’t live. You’re stuck.’ Christian’s eyes are glazed. ‘Cinq gives you the opportunity to make big money, not many other companies do. I keep a list of things I want to buy in my desk drawer and I work out how many houses we need to sell to buy them.’
‘So do I,’ Craig says. ‘DVDs and CDs and stuff like that.’
‘No, Craig. Big things.’
‘Christian, is there any chance we can talk about something other than selling?’
He sniffs. ‘Did I tell you I’m buying a place in Battersea Beach?’
‘No. What’s that?’
‘The new places overlooking the river.’
‘There? Aren’t they expensive?’
‘Expensive, but worth the money. I’ve been able to get a one
hundred
and fifty per cent mortgage. At my age I couldn’t afford to leave it much longer before getting on the property ladder. It’s so important to own your own house. Renting’s just pouring money down the drain. If I were you I’d buy as soon as you can.’
‘But I haven’t got the money.’
‘You don’t need money. You just need a job and you’ve got one. The more houses you sell, the quicker you can pay the mortgage off. That should be your motivation.’
‘One more beer, come on,’ Christian says, as the bell rings for last orders. He gets off his seat and walks carefully over to the bar. He pushes in between two women and brandishes his credit card. The barman serves the women either side of him first and then takes his order.
‘I got a couple of shots,’ he says coming back and passing Craig his drinks.
Craig downs his tequila, licks a line of salt off his hand and sucks on a lemon slice. ‘Thanks,’ he growls, quickly taking a huge mouthful of beer.
Christian accidently sprays lemon in his own eye. ‘Ahh, pain, pain,’ he says, rubbing it vigorously with a napkin. It’s bloodshot.
‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine.’
Only Christian, Craig and two women finishing off a bottle of red wine are left in the pub. A South African guy collects their glasses and tells them that it’s time to drink up. Christian dismisses him.
‘Craig, I’ve an assertiveness test for you. Go over to those two girls and invite them back to mine. Don’t take no for an answer.’
‘They’re not even fit.’
‘I don’t care. Go and do it. Now.’
‘I don’t want to.’
‘I don’t care.’
Craig’s seat scrapes on the wooden floor as he reluctantly gets up and approaches the girls. He speaks to the one who has a lopsided jaw and she shakes her head. Her friend, who has a chubby face, glances over at Christian, who is still rubbing his eye. Craig walks back to him.
‘What did they say?’ Christian asks.
‘They said they had boyfriends and that you looked like you’d been crying.’
‘What? Why didn’t you tell them I hadn’t been?’
‘They weren’t fit, in any way.’
‘So what? You were only over there for ten seconds. You allowed yourself to get stepped on, again. If I’d have gone over, we’d be in there by now.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Definitely. You’d try harder if it was Hannah.’
‘No I wouldn’t. Anyway I’m friends with Hannah. They were just randoms.’
Christian swirls the beer in his glass. ‘I’ve seen the way you look at Hannah, Craig. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. She’s very vulnerable and I don’t want you taking advantage of her. It’s unprofessional.’
‘There’s nothing going on.’
‘I know there’s not because she’s coming out on a date with me next week.’
‘What? Really?’
‘Yes. So you’re to steer well clear of her. Do you get me? If I catch you even talking to her, then I’m going to have to discipline you.’
‘What? But I have to talk to her. We work together.’
‘If you need to talk to her, you come and check it with me first. Clear?’
‘Are you serious?’
Christian sneezes and accidently knocks the rest of his pint over the table into Craig’s lap.
C
raig rolls out of bed to answer the entry phone. Mark’s room is open and his bed hasn’t been slept in.
‘Hello.
‘I’m sorry, he’s not here.
‘You’re what?
‘Umm, OK. Push the gate. It’s number… oh, you know which
number
it is.’
He presses a button to release the gate, runs to his bedroom and makes a call on his mobile:
‘Mark, it’s me,’ he says, agitated. ‘Where are you? Some girl called Jenny’s turned up here saying you’re expecting her. I’ve let her in, but I’m not sure if I should have or not. Who is she and what’s going on? Ring me back ASAP.’
He pulls on a pair of Norwich City football shorts and a creased t-shirt, quickly brushes his teeth and tries to style his bed hair. There is a thump on the front door.
He opens it and steps back. His mouth moves as if to speak but
nothing
comes out.
‘Hello. You must be Craig,’ says Jenny. She is friendly but serious.
‘Yes,’ he says, staring at her. ‘Do you want to come in?’ he asks finally.
She ducks in under the door frame. ‘Has Mark popped out?’
‘I’m not sure. I’ve only just got up.’
Craig presses himself against the wall as Jenny plods past and
follows
in her shadow.
‘Mark said you’d bought a new television,’ she says, sitting down on a sofa and un-popping her gilet, which she wears over a red lumberjack shirt. ‘Isn’t it a bit big?’
‘It was Mark’s choice.’
‘That doesn’t surprise me. It blocks out the light.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Craig goes into the kitchen and puts the kettle on. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ he asks, pulling up the blinds.
‘Please. A small amount of milk and no sugar, thanks.’ Jenny digs her mobile out of her pocket. ‘Mark’s phone’s going straight to voicemail. He’s probably at the gym.’
Craig sniggers. ‘At the gym? What gym?’
‘The one he usually goes to I suppose. I don’t know what it’s called.’
Craig hands Jenny her tea and sits with her. The coffee table is covered with old
London Lates
, a copy of
Nuts
and two old curled
Esquires
. He tidies them into a neat pile, hiding
Nuts
- which has a topless woman on the front cover - at the bottom.
‘Are you just down here for the day?’ he asks.
‘Yes, just the day. I’ve got to talk to Mark about-’ she hesitates, ‘something.’ Her eyes are sunken and dull and she feigns a smile. ‘I’ve got to be back at the farm later.’
‘Do you live on a farm?’
‘No, I just work there. I thought Mark might have mentioned it?’
Craig shakes his head. ‘Umm, no. He’s not said. He’s never explained how you two know each other, actually.’
‘We were family friends for a long time first and then we started seeing each other properly when we were fifteen.’
Craig nods, bemused. ‘You and Mark were going out when you were fifteen?’
‘People are always surprised when they find out how long it’s been.’
‘How long it’s been? It was quite a while ago.’
Craig sips his tea as Jenny picks a long wiry hair off her jeans.
‘Are you still working for the estate agents?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Mark showed me your office last time I was down. Are you still at the one up the road?’
‘Mark showed you my office? So you’ve been here before?’
‘Yes, quite a few times now. We obviously keep missing each other. I think you’ve either been back at home or at work when I’ve stayed.’
‘It looks that way. Where did you sleep when you stayed here?’
Jenny looks puzzled. ‘Mark’s bed obviously. Where do you expect me to sleep?’
‘Mark’s room, of course. Yeah, sorry. I don’t know why I asked that.’
‘Craig, if you want to get ready or need to go out, I don’t mind
waiting
here. I can entertain myself. I’ll watch TV and wait for Mark.’
‘I’ve got no plans. I’ll just wait here with you if you don’t mind.’
There is a key in the front door and Craig rushes up the hall. Mark stumbles in. His eyes are barely open, he stinks of alcohol and he’s
shivering
. Craig drags him to his room and shuts the door.
‘Mate, please don’t push me I think I’m going to be sick,’ Mark says.
‘Did you get my message?’
‘No, I’ve lost my phone. I think I may have left it in a taxi.’ Mark sits on the edge of his bed with his hands over his eyes.
‘There’s a girl called Jenny sitting out there.’ Craig thumbs towards the living room. ‘She seems to think she’s your girlfriend. What’s she talking about?’
‘Is she massive with ginger hair? Smells like horses?’
‘Err, yeah.’
‘Jenny,’ Mark mumbles. ‘Girlfriend, sort of.’ He falls back onto the bed.
‘What? Your girlfriend? Have you gone mental?’
‘Please, I’ve got a terrible headache. I thought I’d told you about her.’
‘No, you haven’t told me anything and you know you haven’t. You’re
unbelievable
. She says you’ve been going out since you were fifteen.’
‘We have… on and off.’
‘And you were going out all the way through uni as well?’
‘Yes. Mate, please can we talk about this later. I’m dying here.’
Craig stares at Mark’s prostrate body in disbelief. ‘Where have you been anyway?’
‘Some girl’s house. She was fit. Looked like that one from
Dr Who
.’
Craig paces around the room. ‘You smell disgusting. Get out there and talk to her.’
‘All right, all right. Stop having a go at me.’
He drags Mark to his feet and pushes him out into the hall. Mark almost falls over. Craig stands in the doorway and watches with his mouth gaping as Mark tells Jenny that she’s early and kisses her on the top of the head.
She gets to her feet. ‘Where have you been? You were meant to be meeting me at the station.’
‘Sorry, babe. I stayed at Justin’s. We were celebrating. I don’t feel
very well. Do you want something to eat? I might have a bacon sandwich.’ He wanders out into the kitchen and takes a large frying pan off the rack on the wall and lights the gas.
‘Mark, we need to talk,’ she says.
‘Babe, just let me have something to eat then I’ll have a shower and I’ll treat you to lunch somewhere.’
‘Mark, you smell really awful. Have you been sick?’
‘Not in the last hour.’
The bathroom is steamy as the shower has been running the whole time Mark has been sitting on the toilet and his pasty, spotty body glistens with sweat. He slides off the seat and kneels on the floor with his head drooping into the toilet bowl. He wipes the droplets from his brow and then, after throwing up, wipes his mouth with his arm. He flushes the chain and gets into the shower.
‘Sorry I’ve been a while, babe,’ Mark says, emerging from the steam of the en suite with a fluffy blue towel wrapped around his bulging stomach.
Jenny has tidied his room. The bed is made, towels have been hung over radiators and there is no sign of the cups and plates that had been stacked on the bedside table. There aren’t even any clothes on the floor.
Mark picks up his red ‘Business’ file. ‘You haven’t been reading this have you?’
‘No, I’ve been clearing up.’
‘You haven’t chucked anything away?’
‘No.’
He lets his towel drop to his feet and scratches himself. He quickly dresses and goes back into the bathroom to brush his teeth.
Jenny is perched on the bed watching an old episode of
Friends
. Mark puts some gum into his hair and styles it meticulously in the mirror.
‘Shall we go out then, babe?’ he says, slipping his keys into the pocket of his jeans.
‘Mark, I’m not hungry. Can we just stay here for a little while?’
‘Stay here? No. Come on, let’s go out. I need a proper lunch. We’ll go to the pub and get a roast.’ Mark turns the television off. He has a large, bloody spot on his nose.
‘I was watching that,’ Jenny says.
‘What do you want to do then, babe? Do you want to go to Battersea Park Children’s Zoo again?’
Jenny tells Mark that she needs a serious talk with him and tells him to sit down. He tells her to make it quick because he wants to get a good table and sits facing her on his desk chair.
‘Mark,’ she says. ‘Mark.’ She bursts into tears.
‘What’s wrong, babe? Has one of the horses died?’ Mark gets up and pats her on the head.
‘No,’ Jenny says, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. ‘I’ve done
something
very bad, Mark. Very bad. And I’m so sorry.’
‘What have you done? I’m sure it’s not that bad,’ he says, now sitting next to her on the bed.
‘I’ve been seeing someone else.’
‘Sorry,
what
?’ Mark says, as if he’s misheard.
‘I’m so sorry. I’ve been seeing someone else,’ she says, snorting.
‘You’ve been cheating on me?’ he says, his face screwed up in
bewilderment
. He shuffles away from her. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I’ve been seeing someone else.’
‘
You’ve
been seeing someone else? Are you sure you’re sure? You’re not just having a period or something and going a bit mental?’
‘No. I’m so, so sorry.’ She reaches out to touch his hand, but he flinches and folds his arms.
‘A bloke?’ he asks.
‘Yes.’
‘Who?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Yes it does. It matters to me.’
‘Eoin.’
‘Who?’
‘The Irish jockey from the stables.’
‘The midget bloke? You’ve been seeing a fucking Irish dwarf behind my back? Have you completely lost it? You’ve been cheating on me,
me
, with him! After all I’ve done for you.’ Mark won’t look at her. ‘How long’s this been going on?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Jenny says, snorting again.
‘How long?’
She starts sobbing again. ‘Two years.’
‘You’ve been shagging him behind my back for
two years
? Jesus Christ.’
‘Yes. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ she blubs, burying her face in the duvet. ‘I never meant to hurt you.’
‘Well you didn’t seem to be thinking about me when you were doing it in the bloody hay barn or wherever you went.’
‘It wasn’t like that.’
‘Well what was it like?’
‘It just happened. I don’t know. I was lonely. You were down here and I was upset. I didn’t know what I was doing. I was confused.’
‘You don’t sound confused.’
‘I kept meaning for it to stop but it just didn’t. It’s over, Mark.’
‘I couldn’t give a fuck. I’m not having you back. Not after this.’
‘No, that’s not what I meant. It’s over between us. You and me,’ she says talking to the side of his head.
‘What? You can’t break up with me.’
‘I have to. Me and Eoin are moving in together.’
‘You’re moving in together? What am I meant to do? I was going to buy us a house. I can’t believe this.’
Jenny gets some tissue from the bathroom and blows her nose. Mark ruffles his hair.
‘I’m just thinking about all those things we’ve done whilst the whole time you’ve been with him,’ he says.
‘Come on, Mark. It’s not been working between us for a long time. We barely see each other.’
‘That’s because I’m working every hour I possibly can to save for our future. I was making so many sacrifices for you, and this is how you repay me.’
‘I didn’t think you thought we had a future. You never call me, you never invite me down. We haven’t had sex in eighteen months.’
‘Do you blame me? You were getting it from someone else. I thought you smelt different.’
‘I think that might have been a new type of feed we were giving the animals.’ Jenny’s nose is running. ‘You’re ashamed of me, aren’t you?’
‘No.’
‘Don’t lie, Mark. I know you are. That’s why you kept me hidden.’ She dabs her eyes. ‘When I came down this morning, Craig didn’t even
seem to know who I was. Do people even know you’ve got a girlfriend, or doesn’t that fit in with your London life?’
‘Everyone knows.’
‘Craig didn’t.’
‘I’ve told you before, he’s a bit simple.’
‘You’re ashamed of me. You never once invited me to see you at
university
and your family laugh at me.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘I heard your uncle say I looked like a man in a big ginger wig. How do you think that made me feel?’ she sobs.
‘It was just a joke. He didn’t mean it. My mum loves you. She’ll be very angry when I tell her what you’ve been up to.’
‘She knows.’
‘What? What do you mean she knows?’
‘I needed someone to talk to.’
‘Why didn’t you talk to your own mum?’
‘My dad had an affair once and Mum never recovered. She’d throw me out if she found out. Your mum told me to come down and talk to you. She was very kind.’
Mark stares out of the window at the overcast sky with his back to Jenny. ‘Betrayed by my girlfriend
and
my own mother. I feel… I feel like I’ve been stabbed in the heart. I hope you can live with yourself.’
‘I just want to be treated properly. Eoin treats me like a woman.’
‘What?’ Mark says, turning round. ‘Are you saying I didn’t treat you well? The amount of presents I bought for you. The holidays.’
‘Your parents paid for the holidays.’
‘I paid for the food, which cost a lot more, by the way.’
‘I just wanted you to respect me, not lock me away like a dirty secret whilst you saw other girls behind my back.’
‘I hardly think you should be lecturing me.’
‘Mark, I know you’ve been seeing other girls.’
‘Who told you that? I haven’t done anything. I’ve been devoted to you.’
‘I went on your Facebook account.’
‘How?’
‘You forgot to sign out one day at my house. I saw your emails.’
‘What emails?’
‘The ones where you had been inviting other girls out for drinks.’
‘They were client lunches.’
‘No they weren’t, Mark. I’m not stupid. Some of them were my old school friends.’
‘I never did anything.’
‘You tried to.’
‘But I never did anything. Because I’ve got too much… love. Because of my love for you.’