Jab to the Right – Bentley 44

 

[For back story go here: Story so far at 30 Nov 2020 and definitely this one.]

[Relevant back story also in embedded links.]

The soreness in his arm wasn’t too bad. When he was stroking Lucky he barely noticed it at all. And the sense of relief that there was some kind of protection now surging through his system gave some kind of life spark and spirit back to Bentley. There was a chance here, he thought, a chance that things would ease a little, become a bit more really normal rather than pretend normal and that in turn was reassuring. 

“How was it?” asked Natalie on the video link.

“Oh much the usual,” said Bentley “Just a jab like 'flu to be honest - no after effects and plenty of friendly people on hand. No tea or biscuits of course.”

“Well, no there wouldn’t be. That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Spent the budget on the vaccine,” muttered Bentley.

“Don’t really think they want people hanging round gassing to each other. I mean that would sort of destroy the point of it all.”

“Even the ‘flu jabs used to ask you what you were doing later…”

“Did you take a vaxxie?” asked Natalie. “A selfie of your vaccination?”

“No,” snapped back Bentley. “I am not down the kids. I have some self-respect.”

“Everyone’s doing it,” observed Natalie. “It’s really not just for the kids.”

The conversation had been, decided Bentley quite weird enough so far without venturing into what’s was or wasn’t going down with the kids at the moment. After some misgivings, worries and general uncertainty, Bentley had accepted Natalie’s olive branch of communication - if that was what it was, and had cautiously set up a video call, with the understanding that he could end it at once for no other reason than he felt like it. Being kind and polite was fine, but there was always the chance he’s find himself consorting with the enemy. Or someone someone else would think was the enemy. That was the problem with everything right now, thought Bentley, he wasn’t even allowed to choose his enemies.

The story Natalie gave him was an interesting one. She was not, she regretted, in any way related to Bentley of Shiela. She wasn’t related to Lawrence either. She and Lawrence had met quite a while ago now at an amateur dramatic society in Hove, actually. They were both auditioning and earned minor roles in an ill-fated production of Gilbert and Sullivan’s HMS Pinafore (Abbot and Costello’s HMS Pinafore joked Lawrence just before the entire production folded, consumed by acrimony, bad feelings and the lack of a production manager who could write call sheets).

They lost touch for a while but then for some reason or other Lawrence made contact with her again through a rather convoluted chain of emails including the drama society’s own news letter. Lawrence wanted her to ‘do a job’ for him. Paid plus expenses and rewarding in lots of different ways. She’d be playing various roles on and on and off basis, supporting him as required, no questions asked. Natalie did, however, ask a number of questions, and satisfied that no one would be hurt by what she was being asked to do, she agreed.

So far she’d played Lawrence’s girlfriend (a fair few times with different back stories, intentions and with varying degrees of success in their relationship) she’d been his boss, his client, his employee, his interior design advisor, project manager and therapist (pretend therapist, even though on occasion it felt like this had become an actual role).

“You still working for him?” asked Bentley.

“On and off,” said Natalie. “Today is an off day by the way. That’s why I can be honest with you.”

“So he’s not going to want you to work against me and Shiela again, then?”

“I don’t know,” said Natalie. “But if he does you’ll know to take it all with a pinch of salt.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, aren’t you?” observed Bentley, “I mean doesn’t Lawrence have contacts?”

“He’s not as well connected as he makes out,” said Natalie. “From what I can gather he’s a pure amateur. Chancer. Some of the stuff we did came off as he expected, most of it didn’t but he got away with it. Some of it was disastrous. I’d say he’s broken-even in terms of my fee.”

Bentley tried to get his head round this. The cat on his lap complained that he’d stopped stroking her.

“And besides,” added Natalie. “Not like I’m a full-time employee. I’m always open to offers.”

Bentley stroked his sore arm and then the cat again. Yes, this year was becoming more complicated by the minute.