out her arms.
‘I’ve been reading the book properly after Gale almost caught me out, but its hard going. I’m up to chapter twelve at the moment.’
‘When you get to the man who likes having his erect penis thrashed with a supple twig in chapter fifteen,’ Rudge said, grinning, ‘I based him on that stand-in bus driver we had a couple of months ago. You know, the chat-up merchant who thought he was a super cool dude wearing those ridiculous wraparound sunglasses. It must have been quite an ordeal for you young women getting on the bus and having to listen to his basement banter.’
‘Jim, you mean?’ Becky replied, ‘I liked him, he was quite good looking.’
‘I found him very rude and discourteous,’ Rudge replied disdainfully, ‘and he was only friendly towards attractive young female passengers like you.’
‘I’ll have to remember to read that chapter if he’s in it,’ she said, ‘does he strip off?’
‘Completely,’ said Rudge, ‘but don’t get your hopes up. He’s hiding latent homosexual desires, and he ends up with a Master who loans him out to his rough trade buddies at a dockside pub called The Jolly Roger .’
‘Oh, no, poor Jim, I don’t think I want to read that bit now.’
‘It’s okay, he’s perfectly happy,’ Rudge assured her, ‘you could say he ends up being totally fulfilled, in more ways than one.’
Becky sat up again and plonked her feet on the Chinese silk rug on the floor and sighed.
‘Reuben, how long do you think this thing is all going to last?’ she asked wiggling her silver glitter-varnished toes.
‘No idea. We’ll just have to put up with this decadent lifestyle for as long as possible I’m afraid,’ he said, cheerfully, ‘why, don’t you like it?’
‘It’s not that, it’s just that we’ve both given up our day jobs now and you’re paying me a good salary, which is brilliant. But what comes next?’ she said, a slight frown creasing her forehead, ‘Do I move out of my flat back home permanently, or will it all end in a few months and I’m back to square one? I’m still paying rent on my old place.’
Rudge stood up and walked to the window and looked down at Southwark Bridge, and then towards the Millennium Footbridge and across the river to the dome of St Paul’s. He waved his hand to beckon her over, and she jumped to her feet and walked over to join him.
‘See that?’ he said putting his arm around her, ‘at this precise moment in time it all belongs to us. We can live well, have a good time and not have to worry about tomorrow. We’re both on good money, and without you none of this success would have been possible.’
‘As I keep telling you, I haven’t really done anything,’ she replied, ‘you’re the writer and without you there would be no Raspberry Caine.’
‘Nonsense,’ Rudge said, ‘as far as I’m concerned this is a fifty-fifty arrangement. As soon as I get the quarterly figures from the accountant you’ll be paid a dividend the same as me.’
‘I don’t want a dividend,’ she replied, ‘all I’ve done is to buy loads of clothes from expensive shops, get my hair done in overpriced salons twice a week and lounge about. Okay, I’ve had to put myself about networking with a load of arty-farty celebs, but as they’re mostly either pissed or off their heads on cocaine it’s been quite a laugh.’
‘We’re a partnership and I depend on you, Becky,’ Rudge replied seriously, ‘and even if the book was pulled off the shelves tomorrow, as long as we don’t go silly we can remain very comfortably off.’
‘I’m quite happy with my wages,’ she replied, ‘ but the thing is that I don’t know whether to stash the money for a rainy day, buy a car, go on a holiday, buy my own place or what.’
‘This place is big enough isn’t it?’ said Rudge, ‘You’ve got your own privacy, so if you meet Mr Right you can
‘I’ve been reading the book properly after Gale almost caught me out, but its hard going. I’m up to chapter twelve at the moment.’
‘When you get to the man who likes having his erect penis thrashed with a supple twig in chapter fifteen,’ Rudge said, grinning, ‘I based him on that stand-in bus driver we had a couple of months ago. You know, the chat-up merchant who thought he was a super cool dude wearing those ridiculous wraparound sunglasses. It must have been quite an ordeal for you young women getting on the bus and having to listen to his basement banter.’
‘Jim, you mean?’ Becky replied, ‘I liked him, he was quite good looking.’
‘I found him very rude and discourteous,’ Rudge replied disdainfully, ‘and he was only friendly towards attractive young female passengers like you.’
‘I’ll have to remember to read that chapter if he’s in it,’ she said, ‘does he strip off?’
‘Completely,’ said Rudge, ‘but don’t get your hopes up. He’s hiding latent homosexual desires, and he ends up with a Master who loans him out to his rough trade buddies at a dockside pub called The Jolly Roger .’
‘Oh, no, poor Jim, I don’t think I want to read that bit now.’
‘It’s okay, he’s perfectly happy,’ Rudge assured her, ‘you could say he ends up being totally fulfilled, in more ways than one.’
Becky sat up again and plonked her feet on the Chinese silk rug on the floor and sighed.
‘Reuben, how long do you think this thing is all going to last?’ she asked wiggling her silver glitter-varnished toes.
‘No idea. We’ll just have to put up with this decadent lifestyle for as long as possible I’m afraid,’ he said, cheerfully, ‘why, don’t you like it?’
‘It’s not that, it’s just that we’ve both given up our day jobs now and you’re paying me a good salary, which is brilliant. But what comes next?’ she said, a slight frown creasing her forehead, ‘Do I move out of my flat back home permanently, or will it all end in a few months and I’m back to square one? I’m still paying rent on my old place.’
Rudge stood up and walked to the window and looked down at Southwark Bridge, and then towards the Millennium Footbridge and across the river to the dome of St Paul’s. He waved his hand to beckon her over, and she jumped to her feet and walked over to join him.
‘See that?’ he said putting his arm around her, ‘at this precise moment in time it all belongs to us. We can live well, have a good time and not have to worry about tomorrow. We’re both on good money, and without you none of this success would have been possible.’
‘As I keep telling you, I haven’t really done anything,’ she replied, ‘you’re the writer and without you there would be no Raspberry Caine.’
‘Nonsense,’ Rudge said, ‘as far as I’m concerned this is a fifty-fifty arrangement. As soon as I get the quarterly figures from the accountant you’ll be paid a dividend the same as me.’
‘I don’t want a dividend,’ she replied, ‘all I’ve done is to buy loads of clothes from expensive shops, get my hair done in overpriced salons twice a week and lounge about. Okay, I’ve had to put myself about networking with a load of arty-farty celebs, but as they’re mostly either pissed or off their heads on cocaine it’s been quite a laugh.’
‘We’re a partnership and I depend on you, Becky,’ Rudge replied seriously, ‘and even if the book was pulled off the shelves tomorrow, as long as we don’t go silly we can remain very comfortably off.’
‘I’m quite happy with my wages,’ she replied, ‘ but the thing is that I don’t know whether to stash the money for a rainy day, buy a car, go on a holiday, buy my own place or what.’
‘This place is big enough isn’t it?’ said Rudge, ‘You’ve got your own privacy, so if you meet Mr Right you can
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