The Vets (Stephen Leather Thrillers) (24 page)

“Oh, Anne, I’m sure that’s not true.”

Anne shook her head and smoothed down the jacket. “No, he’s only able to concentrate on one thing at a time, and at the moment it’s the bank that’s occupying his mind. And to be honest, I don’t think I even come a poor second. Come on, I need a drink.”

The two women headed for the door. “We’ll get a table,” Anne said to Phyllis and Claire who were still towelling themselves dry. Anne and Sally found an empty table upstairs from where they had a good view of the tennis courts below. A waiter came over and asked if they planned to eat.

“Just drinks,” said Anne. “I’ll have a gin and tonic, what do you want Sally, a Bloody Mary?”

“Just a tomato juice,” said Sally, looking at the slim gold watch on her wrist.

“Jesus,” said Anne, under her breath. “Why is it that every time I order a drink someone always looks at their watch?”

Sally reached over and put her hand on Anne’s elbow. “Hey, don’t be so sensitive. I only wanted to see what time it was because I promised to meet Michael at three.” The waiter remained at their table, his pen in his hand. Sally looked up at him. “A gin and tonic and a Bloody Mary,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” said Anne as the waiter went away.

“What’s wrong? I’ve never seen you like this before. Is it William?”

“That’s partly it, but things haven’t been right between us for so long that I’ve almost become used to it.” She looked across the table at Sally and Sally could see there were tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m going to miss you, Sally. You’re my best friend and I’m going to miss you like hell.”

“It’s only Singapore,” soothed Sally. She took Anne’s right hand in hers. “It’s a two-hour flight,” she said.

“Three,” said Anne.

“Whatever. It’s not as if I’m going back to the UK.”

“I know that,” said Anne. She slipped her hand out of Sally’s and took a small, white handkerchief from her purse. “It’s just that you’re my last real friend here,” she said, dabbing the handkerchief at her eyes. “Who am I going to talk to? Who am I going to tell my secrets to? I’m starting to feel so alone.”

Sally nodded. “Hong Kong isn’t the same as it used to be,” she admitted. “To be honest, I’m actually looking forward to the move because we’ve now got more friends living there than we have here. It seems as if everybody’s relocating.”

“Except me,” said Anne bitterly. She saw Phyllis and Claire walking towards their table and waved over to them. “Did you order your drinks?” she asked.

“We caught the waiter as we came in,” said Claire, as they sat down.

“You two played really well today,” said Phyllis.

“Yes, I’m going to miss Sally when she goes,” said Anne.

“When are you going?” asked Claire.

“Three weeks,” said Sally.

“So soon?” said Phyllis.

Sally nodded. “The office and computer systems were set up two months ago and the support staff have already been hired. We’re going over next weekend to look at houses. It’s going to be so nice to live in a real house with a garden and a private pool instead of a high-rise apartment. No more mah jong parties above my head, no more screaming conversations in the lift, no more rude shop assistants or surly waiters. Singapore, here I come.”

“Isn’t there anything you’ll miss?” asked Claire.

Sally looked at Anne and smiled. “My friends,” she said quietly. “Only my friends.”

“And the shopping,” said Phyllis, wagging a warning finger at Sally.

“Well, yes, I suppose the shopping,” Sally admitted. “But Singapore is almost as good as Hong Kong.”

Their drinks arrived. Anne was pleased to see that Phyllis had ordered her usual vodka martini. Claire, a confirmed teetotaller, had an orange juice.

Phyllis raised her glass. “To 1997,” she said. The three other women clinked their glasses to hers and repeated the toast.

“The end of an era,” said Sally.

“The end of everything,” said Anne.

They drank and laughed. Phyllis leant back in her chair and shaded her eyes with her left hand as she watched the tennis players below.

“Isn’t that Richard Marsh?” she asked.

“Where?” said Sally.

Phyllis pointed. “There, on the left.”

Sally squinted. “Yes, it’s him.”

“Who’s he?” asked Anne.

“Oh, you must know him,” said Phyllis. “He works for the Securities and Futures Commission, he’s one of their high-flyers.”

“The SFC?” Sally nodded. “That’d be right. It’s one of the few organisations where they still promote gweilos instead of locals.”

“Only because they don’t trust the Chinese to run their own stock exchange,” laughed Claire.

“Ah, I remember him now,” said Anne. “He came to one of the bank’s cocktail parties a few weeks ago. Pretty wife, what’s her name?”

“Pauline. He’s having an affair, you know.”

“No!” said Sally.

“Who with?” asked Claire, sipping her orange juice.

Phyllis looked at all their faces one by one, making sure she had their full attention. “Mary Russell,” she said.

“Not Dan Russell’s wife?” said Sally, her mouth open.

Phyllis nodded.

“How on earth do you know that?” asked Anne.

Phyllis leant forward and whispered conspiratorially over the table. “Well, I saw the two of them in a booth at Charlotte’s last month.”

“In the Ambassador Hotel?” said Claire.

Phyllis nodded again. “And his car was seen parked outside the Russells’ house about a month before that when Dan was in Taiwan.”

“No!” said Sally.

“Yes,” said Phyllis. “And last week they were seen together in the Hyatt Hotel in Macau.”

“Oh, Phyllis, if anyone was having an affair they’d hardly be likely to go to Macau,” protested Anne.

“That’s what you think,” said Phyllis, raising an eyebrow.

“You have not,” said Anne.

Phyllis raised both eyebrows. “I’m not saying I have, and I’m not saying I haven’t,” she said in a little girl’s voice.

“People do get careless,” said Claire. “I mean, they know Hong Kong is too small a place to have an affair, but they still do it. It’s a sort of death wish, I suppose. They know you can’t go into a restaurant without meeting at least three people who recognise you, but they try to have candlelit dinners. They know that everyone goes to Macau at least six times a year but they meet in the hotels there. They’re crazy.”

“It’s all right for you,” said Phyllis. “You’re single.”

“You wish,” said Claire. “Have you any idea how hard it is to find a single man in Hong Kong? They’re all chasing the pretty little Asian girls, their doe-eyed, submissive dream girls. At least you’ve got a husband.”

“Several, by all accounts,” said Sally, grinning. Phyllis laughed with her. She made no secret of her affairs, and had often reduced the three of them to tears with the details.

“What about the Chinese men?” asked Sally. “Surely there’s no shortage of them?”

“Oh please, have you ever been out with a Chinese male?” asked Claire. “They’re so full of themselves, they’ve no idea how to treat a woman. Any woman.”

“And they’re lousy in bed,” said Phyllis.

“Oh God!” shrieked Sally. “Phyllis, you have not!”

“Come on Phyllis, spill the beans,” said Anne.

“Girls, girls, you know that I never kiss and tell.”

“Oh right,” said Sally.

“Well if you insist,” said Phyllis. She took a long pull at her martini. “The first was a banker from New York.”

“American Chinese don’t count,” said Claire.

“His parents still live in Shanghai,” said Phyllis.

“Well …” said Claire, unconvinced.

“He was very articulate, a good talker, dressed well, but in bed … lousy. Two minutes from start to finish, didn’t know the meaning of foreplay.”

“Details,” said Sally. “I want length, width, duration.”

“You’ve had duration, two minutes. Width, well I suppose it was about two inches.”

“Two inches in diameter?” said Sally. “That sounds about average.”

“Who said anything about diameter?” said Phyllis. “We’re talking circumference.”

“Oh my God,” said Anne.

“And length?” said Claire.

“About the same,” said Phyllis. “Two inches.”

“No!” said Sally. “You’re not serious.”

“Maybe it was three inches then,” admitted Phyllis. “I hardly felt it. It was like being made love to by a mosquito.”

Sally, Anne and Claire laughed loudly, attracting the attention of several neighbouring tables.

“Shhhhhh!” said Anne, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief, though this time it was to wipe away tears of laughter, not sadness.

“And the second one?” prompted Claire.

Phyllis shook her head sadly. “A Hong Kong Chinese. He works for the Stock Exchange. Married with three children, but God only knows how he managed it. He thought he was one of the world’s great lovers, you know? Used his finger for thirty seconds, climbed on top, pumped away for three minutes, collapsed on to his back, lit a cigarette and then asked how it was for me. I ask you. How was it for me? Not great, I told him. He was mortally offended. Asked me if I was frigid. He told me that his wife had an orgasm every time he made love to her.”

“Maybe that’s why our men like Asian girls so much,” said Claire. “Maybe they come on command.”

“Wouldn’t that be great?” said Sally. “It takes me at least half an hour, and even then it’s not guaranteed.”

“I don’t think I can remember what an orgasm is like,” said Anne. She drained her glass and waved over the waiter to order another round of drinks.

“This was quite a few years ago,” continued Phyllis. “But I’ve never been with another Chinese. Two were enough for me. But from what I’ve heard, they’re all the same.”

“Phyllis, you’re impossible,” chided Anne.

“What’s sauce for the goose …” said Phyllis. “I know what Michael gets up to on his so-called golfing weekends in Thailand and the Philippines. He barely tries to hide it any more. At least he takes precautions.”

“How do you know that?”

“The little darling takes condoms in his washing kit, and I’m on the Pill so I know they’re not for me.”

Anne shook her head sadly. Despite the jokes, she was sure that Phyllis would have preferred a loving marriage to the sexual one-upmanship games she was forced to play with her errant husband.

Phyllis looked over Anne’s shoulder and licked her lips. “Well now, maybe I was being a little hasty,” she said.

“Hasty?” said Anne.

“About Chinese men,” said Phyllis. “Take a look at him. Now he is a hunk.”

“Where? Where?” said Claire.

Phyllis nodded towards Anne. “Over there,” she said. “And he’s coming this way.” She took a deep breath and smiled.

Anne turned to look at the object of Phyllis’s desire. It was Anthony Chung. He was wearing tennis whites and carrying two black Wilson racquets. On his wrist was a slim gold watch and around his neck was a thin gold chain. He looked fit, tanned, and wealthy, three attributes that Anne knew Phyllis found most attractive in men. He raised his racquets in salute to her and walked over to stand by Anne’s chair.

“Anne,” he said, “so nice to see you again.”

Her head was level with his stomach, which she noticed for the first time was flat and firm under the tennis shirt, a far cry from William’s pot belly. His thighs were muscular and he looked like he played tennis to win.

She looked up at him and smiled. “Anthony,” she said. “I didn’t know you played tennis.”

“It keeps me fit. And this is a beautiful club. It’s just a shame that men aren’t allowed to be full members here.” He transferred his racquets to his left hand and held out his right to her. She offered her hand instinctively, and before she knew what was happening he had held it and bent at the waist to kiss it, the merest brush of his lips against her flesh. She felt a small tremor of excitement ripple down her spine and she almost gasped in surprise, so unexpected was the feeling. He straightened up, still smiling. Anne felt herself blush, something that hadn’t happened since she was a teenager.

“Well it is the Ladies’ Recreation Club,” said Phyllis, with the emphasis on Ladies. “Anne, you’re being terribly remiss in not introducing us.”

“I’m sorry,” said Anne. “Phyllis Kelley, this is Anthony Chung.” Phyllis proffered her own hand to be kissed, and Anthony obliged, then Anne introduced Sally and Claire.

“Do you play here often?” asked Anne. “I don’t think I’ve seen you at the LRC before.”

“Several times a month,” he said. “I’m playing an American friend today. He’s over there by the bar waiting for me.”

“Which court are you on?” asked Phyllis.

Chung pointed to the playing area below. “The court on the right,” he said. “Will you be watching?”

“Oh yes,” sighed Phyllis. “Definitely.” Anne kicked her under the table but it had no effect, Phyllis continued to make puppy dog eyes at Anthony.