At six o’clock that evening Henry put on the dinner jacket his mother had given him on his twenty-first birthday, which didn’t always have an annual outing. He looked at himself in the mirror, nervous that his attire must surely be out of date — wide lapels and flared trousers — unaware that this look was actually back in fashion. He was among the last to arrive at the town hall, and had already made up his mind that he would be among the first to leave.
Angela had placed Henry on the end of the top table, from where he was able to observe proceedings, while only occasionally having to respond to the lady seated on his left.
Once the speeches were over, and the band had struck up, Henry felt he could safely slip away. He looked around for Ms Forster. He had earlier spotted her dashing all over the place, organizing everything from the raffle and the heads-and-tails competition to the ten-pound-note draw and even the auction. When he looked at her more closely, dressed in her long red ball gown, her fair hair falling to her shoulders, he had to admit... Henry stood up and was about to leave, when Angela appeared by his side. ‘Hope you’ve enjoyed yourself,’ she said, touching his arm. Henry couldn’t remember the last time a woman had touched him. He prayed she wasn’t going to ask him to dance.
‘I’ve had a wonderful time,’ Henry assured her. ‘How about you?’
‘Run off my feet,’ Angela replied, ‘but I feel confident that we’ll raise a record amount this year.’
‘So how much do you expect to make?’ asked Henry, relieved to find himself on safer ground.
Angela checked her little notebook. ‘Twelve thousand, six hundred in pledges, thirty-nine thousand, four hundred and fifty in cheques, and just over twenty thousand in cash.’ She handed over her notebook for Henry to inspect. He expertly ran a finger down the list of figures, relaxing for the first time that evening.
‘What do you do with the cash?’ Henry asked.
‘I always drop it off on my way home at the nearest bank that has an overnight safe. If you’d like to accompany me, you’ll have experienced the whole cycle from beginning to end.’ Henry nodded. ‘Just give me a few minutes,’ she said. ‘I have to pay the band, as well as my helpers — and they always insist on cash.’
That was probably when Henry first had the idea. Just a passing thought to begin with, which he quickly dismissed. He headed towards the exit and waited for Angela.
‘If I remember correctly,’ said Henry as they walked down the steps of the town hall together, ‘your turnover last year was just under five million, of which over a million was in cash.’
‘What a good memory you have, Mr Preston,’ Angela said as they headed towards the High Street, ‘but I’m hoping to raise over five million this year,’ she added, ‘and I’m already ahead of my target for March.’
‘That may well be the case,’ said Henry, ‘but you still only paid yourself forty-two thousand last year,’ he continued, ‘which is less than one per cent of your turnover.’
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ said Angela, ‘but I enjoy the work, and it keeps me occupied.’
‘But don’t you consider you deserve a better return for your efforts?’
‘Possibly, but I only charge my clients five per cent of the profits, and every time I suggest putting my fee up, they always remind me that they are a charity.’
‘But you’re not,’ said Henry. ‘You’re a professional, and should be recompensed accordingly.’
‘I know you’re right,’ said Angela as they stopped outside the Nat West bank and she dropped the cash into the night safe, ‘but most of my clients have been with me for years.’
‘And have taken advantage of you for years,’ insisted Henry.
‘That may well be so,’ said Angela, ‘but what can I do about it?’
The thought returned to Henry’s mind, but he said nothing other than, ‘Thank you for a most interesting evening, Ms Forster. I haven’t enjoyed myself so much in years.’ Henry thrust out his right hand, as he always did at the end of every meeting, and had to stop himself saying, ‘See you next year.’
Angela laughed, leant forward and kissed him on the cheek. Henry certainly couldn’t remember when that had last occurred. ‘Goodnight, Henry,’ she said as she turned and began to walk away.
‘I don’t suppose...’ he hesitated.
‘Yes, Henry?’ she said, turning back to face him.
‘That you’d consider having dinner with me some time?’
‘I’d like that very much,’ said Angela. ‘When would suit you?’
‘Tomorrow,’ said Henry, suddenly emboldened.
Angela removed a diary from her handbag and began to flick through the pages. ‘I know I can’t do tomorrow,’ she said. ‘I have a feeling it’s Greenpeace.’
‘Monday?’ said Henry, not having to check his diary.
‘Sorry, it’s the Blue Cross Ball,’ said Angela, turning another page of her diary.
‘Tuesday?’ said Henry trying not to sound desperate.
‘Amnesty International,’ said Angela, flicking over another page.
‘Wednesday,’ said Henry, wondering if she had changed her mind.
‘Looks good,’ said Angela, staring at a blank page. ‘Where would you like to meet?’
‘How about La Bacha?’ said Henry, remembering that it was the restaurant where the partners always took their most important clients to lunch. ‘Eight o’clock suit you?’
‘Suits me fine.’
Henry arrived at the restaurant twenty minutes early and read the menu from cover to cover — several times. During his lunch break, he’d purchased a new shirt and a silk tie. He was already regretting that he hadn’t tried on the blazer that was displayed in the window.
Angela strolled into La Bacha just after eight. She was wearing a pale green floral dress that fell just below the knee. Henry liked the way she’d done her hair, but knew that he wouldn’t have the courage to tell her. He also approved of the fact that she wore so little make-up and her only jewellery was a modest string of pearls. Henry rose from his place as she reached the table. Angela couldn’t remember the last person who’d bothered to do that.
Henry had feared that they wouldn’t be able to find anything to talk about — small talk had never been his forte — but Angela made it all so easy that he found himself ordering a second bottle of wine, long before the meal was over — another first.
Over coffee, Henry said, ‘I think I’ve come up with a way of supplementing your income.’
‘Oh, don’t let’s talk business,’ said Angela, touching his hand.
‘It’s not business,’ Henry assured her.
When Angela woke the following morning, she smiled as she remembered what a pleasant evening she’d spent with Henry. All she could recall him saying as they parted was, ‘Don’t forget that any winnings made from gambling are tax-free.’ What was all that about?
Henry, on the other hand, could recall every detail of the advice he’d given Angela. He rose early on the following Sunday and began preparing an outline plan, which included opening several bank accounts, preparing spreadsheets and working on a long-term investment programme. He nearly missed matins.
The following evening Henry made his way to the Hilton Hotel on Park Lane, arriving a few minutes after midnight. He was carrying an empty Gladstone bag in one hand and an umbrella in the other. After all, he had to look the part.
The Westminster and City Conservative Association’s annual ball was coming to an end. As Henry entered the ballroom, party-goers were beginning to burst balloons and drain the last drops of champagne from any remaining bottles. He spotted Angela seated at a table in the far corner, sorting out pledges, cheques and cash before placing them in three separate piles. She looked up and couldn’t mask her surprise when she saw him. Angela had spent the day convincing herself that he didn’t mean it and, if he did turn up, she wouldn’t go through with it.