Somethings You Never Forget

Chapter Three

Shortly afterwards I found myself sitting in Blackamoor House interviewing her Ladyship. She was a bostin' looking woman, silver grey short hair cut in a page boy style, I think that's what it's called, I'm just an uncouth Brummy boy not Vidal Sassoon. Her Oval face with a cute, upturned nose suited her, as did her long dangly precious metal earrings coloured claret and blue, not sure what stones they were but they looked the bee's knees. Subtle makeup and lavender perfume, nice. Her curves were in all the right places, neither bulky nor 'Twiggy 'like. I thought to myself 'I bet she looks good in a bikini and I don't mean the Pacific island. I liked what I could see. Very twentieth century thinking, I know, sorry, but that's me.

It was all very nice and polite, but I couldn't help feeling a distinct frisson. She was a lovely woman but lonely, I was man feeling alone. Leaving the house, I asked her if we could meet again. She texts me the following day and we met that weekend in a hotel overlooking Hyde Park, we hardly left the bedroom. Man, she had an appetite and so our relationship began. It's amazing how intense it is writing these country house articles, ho, ho, ho. This was the first of our many encounters, all becoming more and more especially gratifying.

Ancona's pillow talk was bostin ' interesting. I think it was the first time, in a long while, where she was able to share her inner most secrets. I don't think Ancona realised the implications of her off-the-cuff asides and sweet talk, perhaps, perhaps not, she's no fool.

My ears picked up when she mentioned the numerous recent dinner parties, held at Blackamoor House, attended by Gregor Monkolv and Freddie Filltrell. Even I, with my minimal knowledge of current affairs, self-obsessed as I am with Baxi's genealogy malarkey, know those two villains. Only recently they'd been involved in a court case at the Old Bailey, called as character witnesses, as supposedly renowned prominent businessman, entrepreneurs of the highest integrity, appearing on behalf of Mac the Knife Munroe a renowned east end gangland mobster who was suing a red top Sunday newspaper for slander, libel, character assassination or something like that. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.

Mr Mac lost his case and the newspaper gleefully published whole realms of print detailing his and his associates, Misters Monkolv and Filltrell, many illegal and nefarious activities who were, in the eyes of the Metropolitan Police, persons of interest involved in seriously organised crimes including murder, illegal trafficking and drug importation with, even worse, with dubious links to the Kremlin and Russian Mafia gangsters. They didn't paint a pretty picture.

Lying in bed together I distinctly recall Ancona saying. "They have a hold over Alistair... bombard home with emails and telephone calls...day and night...making demands...of all sorts." She blushed fleetingly, there was an alertness to her eyes I'd never saw before.

"Who...what sort of demands." I replied.

She stuttered a reply, "Err...err...err...he told me...only last week...one of his rare visits home...he'd had too much to drink...his drinking is getting worse.it frightens me.

"Tell me more, darling." I answered lightly, thinking 'slowly, slowly catchee' Monkey,' as they say, eh.

Her mouth curved into a smile, "he mentioned something about Monkolv and Filltrell...just being Kremlin puppets."

I stayed silent. Pillow talk is so sweet!

"My darling Alistair," she replied as I cupped her breasts, "is in hock to them...up to his neck in debt...poor dear." Our eyes locked together like magnets

"Hock, you mean he has debts, that's interesting, very interesting," I responded coolly hiding my interest," ...but I thought he was richer than Croesus."

She smiled without a hint of humour. "No...no...no...he lost a fortune in the last crash...only survived because he allowed...he allows."

Ancona paused, lit up a miniature cigar and stared at me blinking a couple of times with a look of feigned indifference across her lovely face. "He...enables nefarious businesses to launder their illegal money through his offshore investment Companies."