Winner Takes It All (8 page)

‘
Why don’t you
go and dance?’ she asked Tara when she joined her.

‘
I can’t
dance,’ her cousin shrugged shyly. ‘I always end up falling
over.’

It seemed as though she
suddenly realised she had Alex’s attention and turned to face her.
She looked worried about something, that bushy brow knotted in
contemplation.

‘
Actually
Alex, can I ask your advice?’

‘
Yes of course
you can. Let’s go somewhere more private.’

Alex led Tara upstairs to
where the VIP room was. It was empty except for a couple of Jo’s
uni mates snogging on one of sofas. Tara looked embarrassed to be
in their company but Alex just ignored them, sitting down on one of
the sofas. Tara sat opposite her, still clutching her orange juice
for grim death.

‘
So what’s so
urgent?’ Alex asked.

‘
I had a
telephone call from Amelia at Tarrant Hanratty, the agency who are
looking for an estate manager for me. They’ve an applicant they
think is really suitable and want me to see him. Trouble is there’s
one really big snag.’

‘
What’s
that?’

‘
He’s a
Sheridan.’

‘
We’re
Sheridans!’

‘
Yes, but he’s
from the other side. Amelia had no idea, she just thought it
wonderful a relative of mine was applying for a job, but I’m not
sure.’

‘
Who is
he?’

‘
A Tom
Montague. He seems really well qualified; he’s been running the
estate at Troyton House for six years and before that he worked for
the Museum of the City of London. But to be a Montague, he must be
related to that horrible Sorcha woman.’

‘
Umm,’ Alex
pondered. ‘Gran used to hate her didn’t she?’

‘
With a
vengeance.’

‘
But I could
have sworn she had three daughters, so why is he
Montague?’

‘
I don’t know.
Do you think I should see him?’

‘
Well I
suppose we can’t let petty family squabbles get in the way.
Interview him but don’t make a decision there and then. When are
you seeing him?’

‘
Tuesday.’

‘
Okay, I’ll be
in Ibiza. But ring me and let me know what you think.’

‘
Thanks Alex,’
Tara smiled. ‘I’ll be glad of the help. I don’t want to make a
horrible decision and end up with my family hating me.’

‘
That won’t
happen. I think we’ve all got Gran’s sixth sense for sniffing out
bullshitters. You’ll do the right thing.’

***

Alex struggled to stay
awake on the Virgin Pondolino train up to Liverpool. Mel was as
alert as ever, not needing espresso and Red Bull just to be able to
concentrate. She tried to fill her exhausted friend in on some
background details on Jack. He was her mother’s sister’s son and he
was forty. He’d been a teenage boxer, then joined the army at
seventeen and stayed there until he was thirty. Returning to
boxing, he’d won a few middleweight bouts, making him enough money
to go into property. Liverpool was a booming area and Jack was
making the most of it by buying up cheap, run-down ex-council
houses and converting them. Apparently he’d been most excited at
the prospect of being involved in the conversion of a hotel and had
been going around scouting for buildings for them to look at. If
she wasn’t so tired after getting just three hours sleep, Alex
would have been quite excited by it all.

By mid-morning they were
in Liverpool. Alex had last come here as a student, when she’d
accompanied one of her friends who’d come up to see her boyfriend
who was studying at John Moores. Alex had very little recollection
of it, seeing as they’d spent most of the weekend in his digs,
getting stoned and listening to old 1960s records.

They were meeting Jack at
a bar in the Docks and as the cab took them the short distance from
Lime Street to the Albert Dock, Alex took in the City with sober
eyes. She wondered what her father would make of her investing his
money in Liverpool. It was going to be European City of Culture in
2008 and all that, but it was still a fairly run down northern
town. Even if she did invest here, she was determined her third
hotel would be in London.

The Albert Dock sat on
the edge of the Mersey. The huge dark red buildings used to house
Liverpool’s maritime industry. In the eighties it had been
converted in an effort to keep up with London’s burgeoning
Docklands. Now those red buildings contained hotels, museums, clubs
and luxury flats. Next to the Tate Gallery was a bar called The
Waterline and it was here that Mel and Alex were meeting Jack. The
place was completely empty except for a lone man sitting by a table
close to the window. As soon as Alex took in the handsome, battered
face, dark blond hair and muscular build, instinct told her this
was Jack. He was gorgeous and she suddenly became conscious of the
fact she’d only had a few hours sleep and had dark circles under
her eyes.

Mel weaved her way
through the tables and as she approached, the handsome guy stood
up, a broad smile beaming across that somehow wonky
face.

‘
Hi ya Jack
lad,’ Mel said, grasping her cousin’s hands and kissing him on the
cheek. Alex silently wondered to herself what their family put in
the water. How on earth did they produce two such gorgeous
offspring?

Jack stood up to embrace
his cousin and Alex had to do all she could to avert her eyes from
lingering on his obviously muscular body, wrapped up in a fairly
tight dark blue suit. She’d been expecting some wizened old
soldier, but Jack was the sexiest man she had ever seen.

‘
Yer looking
good girl,’ he said, pulling away and surveying Mel. His rough
Scouse voice belying his smart appearance. He then looked at Alex,
his blue eyes hooded beneath a sultry brow. Alex felt giggly and
nervous in a way she hadn’t since she was about
fourteen!

‘
You must be
Alex?’ he asked, offering her his hand.

‘
H-Hello,’ she
uttered, shaking his big, rough paw, wondering how on earth she was
going to work with this man when he reduced her to feeling like a
schoolgirl. ‘What can I get you to drink?’

‘
Er, just a
mineral water thanks,’ she replied, sitting down and realising she
still had hold of his hand. She quickly pulled it away, blushing
like a fool.

‘
I’ll have
half of lager please la,’ Mel said, sitting beside her friend. Jack
went to the bar and Mel looked at Alex, giggling.

‘
Look at you,’
she commented. ‘Don’t worry about it, Jack always has that effect
on girls.’

‘
I don’t know
what you’re talking about,’ Alex replied, blushing
deeper.

‘
Well you’d be
the first heterosexual female mate of mine not to go weak at the
knees on meeting him if you haven’t.’

‘
Mel I’m not
here to judge him on his looks, I want to know if he can help me
buy a hotel.’

Jack returned with the
drinks and sat before them. He gripped his small, shot glass with
his big, meaty fingers and Alex was positive the whimper she gave
was audible.

‘
Why don’t you
tell Alex a bit about what you’ve already done,’ Mel said, trying
to conduct the electricity in the air.

‘
Not that
much,’ he shrugged. ‘I started off by buying an house in the road
where me mam grew up in Anfield. I did it all up and sold it for a
thirty thousand pound profit. With that I bought two flats in the
Scotland Road and did the same to them. At the present time I own
eight houses and flats in the City. I rent ‘em all out, mainly to
students.’

‘
It must give
you a healthy return?’ Alex managed to ask.

‘
I get by,’ he
smiled. ‘I’ve just bought me mam a house in Nutsford so she’s
finally got out of the City.’

‘
That’s the
thing about Liverpool,’ Alex said, finding it easier to speak if
she just looked out the window at the people walking around Albert
Dock. ‘The people who live here seem eager to get out. So why
should I invest my money in a hotel?’

‘
Cos, like
anywhere, there are two sides to Liverpool. I come from Walton,
it’s an okay area, a bit bland but crime and the like isn’t too
bad. But there are parts of the city that are like ghettos.
London’s the same, but when tourists go to London they don’t see
Brixton or Tottenham or wherever; they see Knightsbridge,
Kensington, Chelsea. Well up here our City centre’s developing and
there’s plenty for tourists to do when they’re here. A lot of the
hotels are also doing conferencing as well.’

‘
What sort of
hotel do you think would do best?’ Alex asked, finally looking at
him and feeling disconcerted when she noticed a cheeky twinkle in
his eye.

‘
Mid price -
three or four stars. The sort of place that people stay in for a
weekend or travelling salesmen come to when they’re in
town.’

‘
Okay. Well my
father didn’t stipulate it had to be a five star hotel, so we could
go for the mid-price range.’

Jack laughed and shook
his head, sipping his drink.

‘
It’s another
world,’ he said. ‘My auld fella drives a number twenty three
bus.’

‘
Don’t be rude
la,’ Mel scolded. ‘Alex is up here to help you.’

‘
I know. I’m
sorry Alex.’

He pouted playfully,
wanting her forgiveness and she couldn’t help but laugh. He may
have been devastatingly sexy but Alex wasn’t even sure if she liked
Jack. She got the feeling he had a chip on his shoulder about being
born poor and he seemed to hold her in contempt because she’d led a
privileged life. It wasn’t an attractive trait.

‘
Okay, so
where are we going today then?’ she asked.

‘
It’s a
building on Church Street. Years ago it used to be a department
store called Walters. It closed down in the eighties and has stood
derelict ever since. We’re meeting the agent there at two
o’clock.’

‘
How much is
it selling for?’ Alex asked.

‘
Two hundred
thousand for the lot. From what I can tell it’s in pretty dire
condition and it’ll need a lot of work done on it
though.’

‘
Anywhere
else?’

‘
Yeah. The
Staples Hotel on Dale Street. It’s a standard B&B and Paddy the
auld fella who owns it wants to get rid of it.’

‘
Right, well
that’s two to be getting on with. Shall we go?’

Jack took them in his
Shogun the short journey to Church Street - a long road running
along the back of Liverpool City Centre. Most of the buildings
seemed rather abandoned or neglected and there was something quite
sad about it. The style of the office blocks and empty banks were
almost continental and reminded Alex of Paris. She guessed that a
hundred years ago this had been a thriving thoroughfare in
Liverpool, occupied by bankers and sea merchants. It seemed a shame
that it was now forgotten about and she wondered if the arrival of
a hotel right in the centre of it would help revitalise the
area.

Just like the others, the
building that had once housed Walters the department store was
falling to bits. The boarded up windows were covered in posters
advertising club nights and the ripped up awning over the door was
smothered in pigeon droppings.An attractive yellow piss stain
covered one of the walls next to a graffiti tag. Alex felt
aggrieved – here stood a piece of history, the sort of place her
grandmother – had she ever visited Liverpool – would come for
afternoon tea and to buy presents for her children. It seemed
disrespectful to cover it in graffiti.

The agent hadn’t arrived yet and
the three of them stood around, waiting. Jack placed his hands on
his slim hips, looking up at the building.

‘
I can
remember me mam talking about this place,’ he said. ‘Apparently me
granddad nicked a fur coat for me nanna.’

‘
Jack you
shouldn’t be telling Alex things like that,’ Mel tutted. ‘It makes
us look like right scallies.’

‘
Don’t worry
about it,’ Alex said. ‘My grandmother was born in the East End. She
used to tell me stories about what she got up to as a child and the
scams they had to pull to get by.’

Jack looked at her,
furrowing that brooding brow.

‘
So the money
don’t go far back then?’ he asked.

‘
God no. Well
it does on my grandfather’s side. But not gran. She was common as
muck till she married him. People tell me I’m a lot like her, so I
guess that makes me common too.’

He gave a lopsided grin
and Alex’s knees buckled just a little.

‘
Nah, not you
girl. You’re pure class.’

Alex’s blushes were
spared when another car pulled up and from it emerged a very small,
immaculately dressed man who appeared to be very
flustered.

‘
I’m so sorry
for being late,’ he twittered. ‘So so sorry.’

He rushed over to them,
and Alex felt just a little put out when he naturally headed
towards Jack.

‘
How do you
do?’ he said. ‘Roy Reid.’

Jack shook his hand, then
pointed to Alex.