Červenà

Chapter
Five


A NURSE took the three of us to a relatives’ room so we could sit in private rather than in the corridor. We were told Mum’s surgery—coronary angioplasty—would take hours. While we’d talked before, now we waited in silence. Rosalyn sat beside Steve on a well-worn sofa, her head on his shoulder and her hand gripped tightly in his. I sat in the closest armchair, staring into space and thinking back on my life.

Mum had had a weak heart for a long time, diagnosed with unstable angina over five years earlier. She was still so young—only fifty-eight. They’d kept it from me for two years. I’d just bought into the club at the time and had worked every spare hour to get it ready for opening. Mum had refused to let Rosalyn tell me in case I threw in the towel to come home and lost everything I’d worked so hard for.

I’d been furious when I’d found out. Mum had suffered chest pains three Christmases ago, and after an attempt to ease the symptoms with the medication she’d been taking for months, Rosalyn had called an ambulance. I’d been in two minds about doing exactly what they’d feared I would do. I hadn’t wanted to be in another country, a minimum of six hours away, taking into account airport checkins and waiting around, when Mum could have an attack at any moment. But Mum had returned from the hospital as determined as ever, and told me she wouldn’t let me consider giving up my businesses on the off chance she might have another “flutter.”

I sighed heavily and closed my eyes. I should have come home then. If I’d sold the condos, I could have used the money to set up some kind of business in London. I should have made more time and spent every minute I could with her.

“Joe, stop beating yourself up.” Rosalyn touched my arm, and I opened my eyes again to glance at her. “You know Mum wants us to live our own lives.”

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat and pulled my cell phone out, checking for messages. Karel had sent a text to tell me he was sorry about my news and that I shouldn’t worry about the club. He’d spend more time there and keep on top of everything. Another message had come from Tomáš’s number.

I am sorry for your bad news. I hope everything will be ok. Sasha.

I frowned at the message. Sasha hadn’t invested in a cell phone yet. The words seemed surprisingly cool, given what had happened on our date. Maybe he was uncomfortable about sending the message from Tomáš’s phone. Perhaps he didn’t know what to say, or he’d had second thoughts about me. If he’d had his own phone, I’d have responded to ask if everything was all right, but I didn’t want to try to have a conversation with him through Tomáš, especially if Sasha didn’t really want to hear from me.

I shoved my phone back into my pocket and rested my elbows on my knees, lowering my head into my hands. I couldn’t think about Sasha now.

“How long has it been?” Rosalyn asked.

“Two hours.” Steve shuffled in his seat. “Either of you want coffee?”

“No thanks, love. I need to stretch my legs.” Rosalyn got to her feet.

“I don’t either.” I straightened up and dragged my fingers through my hair. “Why don’t you both go for a walk? I’ll call you if there’s any news.”

They left me alone. I walked around the room a few times, wincing at the pain in my leg. The dash from the plane to the train station hadn’t helped it at all. I sat down again, stretched it out, and lifted my foot onto the small table in front of my chair.

My sister and Steve returned fifteen minutes later and sat on the sofa again. Steve sipped from the paper cup of coffee he’d brought with him and shuddered. “This stuff is disgusting.”

The door opened and we all looked up as a surgeon clad in green scrubs stepped into the room. She looked serious and sad. She let the door close behind her and clasped her hands together in front of her waist. I scrambled to my feet and met her eyes hopefully, silently begging for a positive outcome just as I knew Rosalyn was doing. Those few seconds before the surgeon opened her mouth seemed interminable.

“I’m so sorry. We did everything we could.”

Rosalyn let out a wail and slumped against Steve. I tried to listen, but with the rushing noise in my ears and the sound of my heart pounding, joined by Rosalyn’s sobs, I only picked up a few words.

“…Too weak… infarction… so sorry… nothing more we could do….”

Struggling to breathe, I lowered myself back into the chair before my leg gave way. Mum was gone. It seemed like an awful dream that I would wake up from at any moment.

Memories raced through my mind, of times when she’d been healthy and strong. She’d been firm but loving, bringing us up alone after Dad passed. I’d been almost old enough to manage on my own, but Rosalyn had been in her early teens. Mum had taken on the role of both parents with determination, pushing aside her own pain to make sure we were okay. She’d held the family together and now she’d left us, far too soon.

“When can we see her?” Rosalyn asked, her voice shaking and thick with tears.

“Just give us a little time. Someone will come to you when we’ve made her ready.”

I grimaced at the thought of them stitching her up, covering the evidence of the surgery with dressings and a sheet, and trying to make her look peaceful so we wouldn’t be too shocked. I rubbed a hand over my face, surprised to find it dry. My throat hurt and my eyes stung but there were no tears. I felt drained.

Rosalyn was back on the sofa, weeping quietly in Steve’s arms. They had each other and little Rachael, and it made me realize for the first time how alone I was. Thirty-five years old and I had nobody.




“JOE, COME on.” Rosalyn grasped my hand and tugged. “We’re going.”

“Going where?” I heaved myself up and reached for my coat.

“To say… g-good-bye.”

I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting there lost in thought. A nurse waited at the door for us, and when we were ready, she led us down a series of corridors to a room where Mum was laid out, exactly as I’d imagined. A white sheet covered her to the neck, her neatly brushed hair framed her ashen face, and her closed eyes and relaxed features made it seem as if she were merely sleeping.

I stayed by the door while Rosalyn went to Mum’s side, touched her face and held her hand, whispering things to her that were only meant for mother and daughter. Steve stood at my side, head down and face strained. He loved Mum too. She’d welcomed him into the family with open arms and loved him as she would another son.

When Rosalyn returned to his arms, I slowly approached the bed. Mum looked so calm. I touched her hand, finding her skin cool but not cold. Surely she would wake when I squeezed her fingers, and open her eyes to reprimand me for rushing back to England again for nothing more than a “flutter.”

“I’m so sorry, Mum,” I whispered. “I should have been here. I should never have gone.”

My heart shattered into a thousand pieces in my chest, and yet still I didn’t cry. My eyes burned but remained bone dry.

I stayed there at her side—it could have been a minute or an hour before Steve placed his hand on my shoulder and steered me to the door. I walked with them, and after a few minutes, we reached Steve’s car. Rosalyn and I sat in the back seat, clinging to each other’s hands like a pair of frightened children, as Steve drove us home.




I STAYED in the spare bedroom at my sister’s house. I couldn’t bring myself to sleep at Mum’s, and Rosalyn wouldn’t hear of me staying there alone anyway. We muddled through, communicating the news to Mum’s friends, trying to organize a funeral with heavy hearts. At the same time, we all struggled to keep things as normal as possible for Rachael. She was crushed to learn that her Gran was gone, but at the same time she’d been looking forward to Christmas, and we did our best to make things fun as we decorated a tree and piled the gifts under it.

I called Karel the day after Mum died, and told him I wouldn’t return to Prague until the New Year, and even then I didn’t know how long it would be. He was sad for me and told me not to worry about anything. He even boxed up the Christmas gifts I’d bought, along with a case full of my clothes and personal items, and shipped them out to me. Rachael would still get her iPad on Christmas morning and I wouldn’t have to buy myself a new wardrobe.

Mum was buried on December 18, a Thursday. The cold, damp weather reflected our moods as we stood miserably, wrapped in dark winter coats and huddling under umbrellas in the graveyard. Rosalyn had rallied by then, her nature the same as Mum’s, strong in the face of adversity. She read the eulogy and made small talk with everyone at the wake afterward, at Mum’s house. I drifted, lost and numb, unable to think about what I was doing, much less what I was going to do when it was all over.

A pang of guilt hit me on Christmas Eve when I thought about everyone at the club, working hard on the last party night before New Year’s. I should have been there the way I always was, but I didn’t feel I could be anywhere else but with my family. Karel and the staff wouldn’t expect it, but I still felt like I should have done something.

I messaged Karel to tell him I’d arrange the staff bonuses with the bank. It was a tiny thing, but something I’d always taken pleasure in doing personally. But he responded to say he’d already done it along with the December salaries, and that I should forget about work and try to enjoy Christmas. He insisted I shouldn’t go back until I felt like it.

Christmas Day was as good as we could make it. It was the first time I’d been home on the day in four years.

We all got up before seven, woken by Rachael’s squeals of excitement. She’d bounced back remarkably well during the last week, and buoyed up the rest of us. Eight years old and nothing could dampen her spirits when she saw the huge mountain of gifts under the tree.

The parcel-opening session took over an hour, and of course Rachael received more presents than anyone. Once she’d ripped the paper off everything and sorted the items into “clothes and other not-so-exciting items,” “cool toys,” and “fantastic toys,” Steve gathered up the sea of discarded gift wrap and Rosalyn went to make breakfast.

I enjoyed the day—I couldn’t pretend I didn’t. The devastating loss of Mum was ever present when we sat around the table for Christmas dinner with one obvious empty place where she should have been, but we toasted her and agreed she’d be smiling down on us. I drank far too much wine with my meal—enough to dull the sorrow, but not so much that I embarrassed myself.

Later we watched a children’s Christmas movie with Rachael, and after she’d gone to bed, Steve brought out a bottle of port, and we talked. Rosalyn gave in to the tears she’d held back all day, and Steve took her off to bed. I sat alone until midnight with my glass of port, staring at the photo of Mum on the mantelpiece. It was the first time I’d been able to cry. Since she’d died, my tears seemed to have been blocked up, like a bottle with a cork in it. But finally I wept, silently but heartbreakingly, until I was wrung out. Again I was reminded how alone I was. I had no one to take my hand, steer me up the stairs to bed, and tell me everything would be all right.




I DIDN’T consider returning to Prague until after the New Year, and even then it was with great reluctance. I needed my family, and although they didn’t really need me, they insisted I stay as long as I wanted. Rosalyn hated the thought of me going so far away when I had no one waiting for me, and it was easy not to think about my other life.

I kept in touch with Karel once a week, mostly by e-mail. His messages were short and to the point, telling me the club was doing well and that New Year’s Eve had resulted in the biggest income for one night—ever. There was no reason for me to worry about rushing back.

I thought about Sasha a lot, but I accepted it was one of those things that was over before it started. He’d seemed to want me, but he hadn’t been in touch again, even though I knew Tomáš would have given him my cell phone number as I’d asked. I supposed I could have called him, but I was reluctant to make the move and find out I was right, and that he didn’t want things to go any further. It was better left alone.

Steve returned to work immediately after the New Year, to prepare for school opening after the holidays. A few days later Rachael went back to school, and Rosalyn and I had a lot of time to be together. We did plenty of fun things and some more difficult things, like sorting out Mum’s belongings and putting her house up for sale. Through everything, we became even closer than before, and we talked about everything. I told her more about Sasha.

“What makes you think it’s over?” she asked.

“It never got started. We had dinner, that’s all.”

“And?”

“And nothing. We kissed. I went home. End of story.” I refused to think about the way he’d looked at me; the way we’d come together.

“But you’d have seen him the next day if you hadn’t rushed home. Why write it off before you’ve talked to him? He might be missing you, too, waiting for you to go back.”

“You’re just trying to get rid of me.” I forced a laugh. January had come to an end, and I knew I couldn’t put off going back forever. Rosalyn and Steve would have let me stay indefinitely, but they had their own life and I couldn’t hang on to it and forget about my own.

“Joe, you know I want you here as long as you want to be here.”

“I know, but it’s time I went back. I can’t leave Karel to run everything on his own. It’s my business too.”

“At least stay for Rachael’s birthday.”

I agreed at once. Rachael turned nine in a week’s time. Her birthday was on a Friday, and Rosalyn had planned to have a party for her with some of her school friends visiting for the evening. I didn’t relish the idea of a dozen screaming little girls running around me, but I’d do anything for Rachael. I decided to leave the day after the party, although I didn’t plan anything properly or book a flight. Taking a definite step toward going back to reality wasn’t something I felt quite ready for, and I left it until the Saturday afternoon after the party. Then I logged on to the Net to reluctantly arrange my journey home. I had to go back sometime.

I checked my e-mails first. A week had passed since I’d been online, and I expected to have a message from Karel, letting me know how things were going as always. I sifted through the junk, but the only e-mail I had that I bothered reading was from Pavel. Curious, I opened it immediately. He’d gone to the trouble of writing in English.

Dear Joel, I am very sorry to send you this letter. I do not wish to bother you while you are spending time with your family, but I have to tell you that I am leaving Červenà for another position.

I gaped at the screen. Pavel had been with us since the very first night the club opened. I read on.

Please know that I have enjoyed working for you very much. But I am not liking my work now. I do not know if you will come back in the future. But Karel has made changes I do not like. I know he is your friend, but perhaps you should make sure he is doing what you want if you are still involved with the club. Please do not be angry with me for telling you.

I wish you very well and I am very sorry about your mother.

Sincerely, Pavel.

“Fuck,” I muttered. “What the fuck is going on over there?”

I searched for the club’s website, wondering how I could have spent two months in London without doing anything other than a brief check with Karel every week. What the hell could he have changed that would send my loyal bar manager to another job? Why hadn’t Pavel contacted me sooner? It sounded like he thought I might not return at all. I scowled at the computer. If he thought that, what about the others? What could Karel have done or said?

The website came up, its home page the same as always, except for one glaring bright orange announcement at the bottom.

The Full Monty, printed in both English and Czech. Beneath it was a picture of Tomáš on the podium, photographed from the side to show he was completely naked, and with a computer graphic over his privates. A crowd of excited men surrounded him and at least a dozen hands were on his body.

“You bastard, Karel.” The club had always had one of the best reputations in Europe for being sexy but not seedy. Maybe I was old-fashioned and a little prudish, but naked dancers being groped by anyone who wanted a try wasn’t what I’d signed up for.

I clicked onto an airline website and found the first available flight. Due to ice on the runway, some flights the day before had been cancelled, meaning almost everything was booked up. I managed to secure a first-class seat late in the evening, but it would have to do. With that arranged, I logged into Červenà’s bank account. I hadn’t checked it once while I’d been away. Why would I need to, when I trusted my friend and partner to take care of everything? He was less diligent than I, but he’d kept on top of it and there’d never been a problem in the past.

I blinked when the balance came into view. The account held forty thousand korunas—only a little over a thousand pounds. Before I’d left Prague the total had been in excess of ten million korunas.

“Fuck!” Tapping into the most recent statement, I stared in disbelief at the list of cash withdrawals—huge sums taken out in the main branch of our bank. What the hell could Karel have done with ten million in less than two months? When I searched back through the previous statement, I noted the December and January salaries had been paid, and of course I knew I’d received mine, but nothing extra had left the bank for the employees. Karel hadn’t paid their bonuses after all.

I snatched up my cell phone and found his number in the contacts, but paused before I called him. Whatever he was up to, I’d do better to confront him face to face. He didn’t know I was going back this weekend. One of my next tasks would have been to e-mail him and let him know I’d be at the club before closing, but I’d seen Pavel’s message first. I put my phone down again. I’d be better off surprising Karel. That way I could see for myself exactly what was happening at Červenà before he had the chance to do anything about it. It stunned me that he apparently thought I wouldn’t notice something was wrong. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

Sickened, I turned off the computer and rubbed my hands over my face. How could things have changed so much in so short a time? That money was there two weeks before I’d left Prague—I’d seen it for myself when I’d entered the most recent receipts into the accounts book and set up November’s salaries. Now there wasn’t enough money left in the account for February’s payments.

I packed quickly, cramming my clothes and the gifts I’d received at Christmas into the case Karel had sent over. I checked my room and the bathroom to ensure nothing was left behind, then took the case downstairs.

“You’re going, then?” Rosalyn gave me a smile. “You don’t look happy about it. You don’t have to rush, you know.”

“I’ve already been here far too long. You have your own lives to lead. You know I love being here, but I need to get back to the club.”

“Seriously, Joe, is something wrong? You look like shit.”

“Yeah, thanks, Ros.” I smiled tightly. “I think the club’s in trouble. I don’t know how. Things were going great. Karel’s done something. I had an e-mail from my bar manager, saying he’s gone to a new job and that there have been changes he doesn’t like. He hinted that I ought to check it out, and that he thought I didn’t plan to go back. I checked the bank and the money’s gone. All of it.”

“The club’s money? How much?” Rosalyn’s eyes widened.

“Over a quarter of a million pounds.”

“Oh my God! Why would he do that? He’s your friend. Why…?”

“I have no idea, Ros. He’s been in touch with me every week, telling me everything’s great. I never bothered to check. There was no reason to. There’s never been a reason to before, I mean. We’ve always shared the accounts stuff. I got an evening flight. It’s all there is.”

“I’m so sorry, Joe. You will let me know tomorrow, as soon as you find out what happened?”

“Yeah, I’ll call.” I sighed heavily and stooped to hug my sister. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“We’ll miss you too. You know we’re always here, anytime you need us.”




THE REST of the day crawled by, while my stomach churned in panic. I tried to imagine what could have happened to make Karel take all the money. Did that explain why Tomáš was dancing naked? Was Červenà in trouble, only I hadn’t seen it?

Again I considered everything—the club, Karel’s behavior before I’d left, and the things I’d done—and I dismissed the idea. The bills were always paid on time and the place was so popular that the money poured in six days a week. Our accounts had been done in September, proving the club’s profits had increased from the previous year. The only thing I could imagine was that Karel had some personal problem I didn’t know about.

I pictured Tomáš on the podium as I’d seen him on the website, and wondered if the others were dancing naked too. The picture in my head became Sasha on the podium with his dick out, while a crowd of horny men pawed at him, and I wanted to throw up. I couldn’t imagine him wanting to do that but maybe he had no choice.

By the time I left for the airport, I was more angry than worried. Karel had no right to make any changes without consulting me. It had been an unofficial agreement between us from the beginning. We’d always decided anything significant together. That included the spending of the club’s money.

I checked in for my flight, wishing I didn’t have a suitcase. It would make things take longer when I had to wait in Baggage Claim at the other end. I bought a coffee and found somewhere to sit away from the main bustle in Departures. Two hours and I’d be in the air. Three hours after that and I’d find out what the hell had happened to my business.