Hot Stew by Fiona Mozley (most interesting books to read .TXT) 📕

that the threat of this will force her to offer them some kind of cash settlement.

“In reality, it amounts to little more than blackmail,” says Elton. “They have evidence your father’s wealth was gained by illegal means.”

“It was gained by illegal means,” Agatha replies. “Everyone knows that.”

“Yes and no. His cash riches came from, well, who knows where? That was never any of my business. But his property was purchased in plain sight of the law, albeit with that same cash. The property is, now, far and away the most valuable asset. He had the foresight to buy exactly when and where he did. But your sisters say they have evidence connecting him directly to the Soho sex trade, to pimping and indeed to trafficking, evidence that suggests he was more than just an oblivious landlord to the brothels, but rather involved in soliciting and in taking a direct cut from the earnings of the prostitutes, which was and is illegal. And moreover, they claim that this involvement is in fact continuing. They say they have evidence that could connect the Trust to pimping and by association evidence that could connect you to these activities.”

“I have never had anything to do with any of that,” says Agatha.

“I know, but there are aspects of some of the long-term rental agreements you have with these establishments that could connect your income more directly to the activities of your tenants than you might like.”

She perches at the front of the deep armchair. It’s designed for a man’s hips, back and shoulders, and has been sat in and settled by such men. She looks about at the room, at the paintings she just a moment before so easily dismissed, at the other leather armchairs in the large empty room which have, like hers, been worn down by and made to fit a shape that isn’t hers. The men of this room have traded in skin for hundreds of years. They built their fortunes on the sweat of others, but if she so much as touches the business of bodies, she might be ruined.

“Those bitches,” she spits. “They know they’ll never get the settlement they want in court but they would rather everything he built was seized by the government than allow me to have it in peace.”

“Quite. The thing is, they already seem to have copies of certain documents.”

“What documents? Have you seen them?”

“No, but our first step might be to arrange a meeting. To see what they actually have.”

“Good. You can see to that.”

“Yes. But they have stipulated that any meeting to negotiate must involve you directly. They want to sit down with you face to face.”

“I would rather not,” says Agatha.

“I realize you have managed to avoid them thus far, but a face-to-face meeting is coming.”

Tobias takes a sip of his tea. It’s clear he has more to say, but Agatha steps in: “We need to accelerate the evictions. We’ve been too tolerant. They’ve had their fun with these little protests. They have a big one planned this afternoon, I am told. But now they need to leave. The whole thing is frankly embarrassing. For them particularly, but also for us.”

“You’ve been establishing useful connections with the Met?”

“Just this morning,” says Agatha. “He seemed receptive. He’s running for mayor, you know, the rumors are true. All hush hush, until he resigns his job in the police force, of course, but clearly he is already interested in the prospect of my support, and will act accordingly while he is still wearing the badge.”

“Good,” says Mr. Elton. “That ought to put some fear into these girls. If the Met gets involved they won’t want to take the whole thing much further.”

“Perhaps,” says Agatha again. She sits back in her chair, feeling utterly depressed. The protests have been getting more attention, not less, and they have been spreading like inflammation in a sick body. London feels angry, and ill-prepared for large-scale unrest. There is so much hubris here.

They know about revolutions in Paris. There, rioters prised cobbles from the street and threw them. They dragged carts into the lanes to block them. When Napoleon III rebuilt the city, he made sure the streets were wider than the length of a cart, and paved with something heavier than cobble. Then in 1968, disaffected students overturned double decker buses and used those to block the streets instead.

The grander parts of London are wide and bright and difficult for dissidents to take by force. In Soho, the streets are narrow, and the lanes are dark. And it has always been a place of sedition.

Agatha has made preparations for a worst-case scenario. As well as her Mayfair townhouse, she has a manor house in the north of England, and with it land and tenanted cottages. The property was bought by her father at some point in the later stages of his life. If she reads the warning signs correctly, there should be time to collect her things and get out of the city before it becomes dangerous. If the action is restricted to the capital, that is. If unrest is more widespread, she will need to leave the country altogether.

She keeps a yacht, named Versailles, moored on the Thames, fully provisioned, manned by a permanent crew. It is expensive but worth it. Her mother is forever asking her if she can take the yacht on little jaunts to the Med, but notwithstanding the trips they go on together in the summer, Agatha invariably says no. When she is in London, the yacht will always be moored on the Thames.

The advantage of a yacht over, say, an airplane, is that it is easier to access. Airports and airfields would potentially be flooded with people, and there would be security checks and delays. In a boat, she could just sail down to the Medway and out into the Channel and then she’d be away.

Nobody else knows about these contingency plans. Just her and Roster. If she told anyone they would think