She had not been into the Club before and it was just as she had expected. As she had driven her Infiniti coupe up to the entrance, an immaculately dressed doorman, had opened her car door and given an elaborate, gold-embossed ticket. Her car then disappeared almost automatically in the hands of another. More hands ushered her through the silent sliding doors and into an immaculate hall of leather and panelled wood.

If it wasn't for the fact. that the staff had been so friendly and welcoming, she almost felt she was going into a totally alien environment.

'Can I help you madam?' The man was a tall Afro-American in a spotless dark tail-coat. 'Are you meeting someone?'

She had expected to be challenged. Especially, as the Sportsmen's Club was noted around Houston, as both extremely exclusive and also extremely male. 'Yes! I'm meeting David Carlson!' Again, the friendly attitude prevailed, even if the reputation of the Club said otherwise.

'Would you follow me, please?' The man turned and with a perfect step, like the military man, he probably had been, marched down a long corridor lined with endless sporting heroes. Almost instinctively, she marched in step behind him. Something, that she did with no small amount of difficulty, given her high heels and the restrictive nature of her clothes. She smiled back, as more than one elderly head turned appreciatively. Perhaps, thirty seconds later, they turned into a large and spacious bar, which again followed the theme of leather and panelled wood.

'Hi! David!' He had risen to greet her and even gave her a small, but very chaste, peck on the cheek. 'I hope the Bank's Thought Police aren't about?' She kissed him back. 'They wouldn't have liked that, either!'

He smiled. 'They certainly wouldn't have, Vee-Bee.' He was chuckling as they sat down. 'And they wouldn't have got a kiss from me, either!'

***

'So how did you get into a morgue, like this?' Her hands indicated all of the worthies on the walls and the members, many of whom were enjoying a pre-lunch snooze, after a hard game of golf from a buggy. 'And why would you want to?'

'I was invited.' He was beckoning a waiter as he spoke. 'They felt sorry for me!' He put his hand to his mouth. 'And they wanted to improve the standard of the Club!' He added an afterthought. 'And of course, it's the best golf course in Texas.'

'I can understand the latter!' Even if she had never done any sport at all seriously.

'Miss Vee-Bee! The Great Sportswoman!' She returned his gibe with her tongue!

She had known David ever since she had joined the Bank from business school, twelve years previously. 'Why would anybody feel sorry for you?' She looked across at him, mockingly turning her head to a slight angle. He was a handsome, well-mannered man of just under fifty, who was always the safest pair of hands for any business or personal problem.

'A bottle of Laurent-Perrier? Vee-Bee!' He always used the nickname, as that is what he had first called her, when she had gone as a trainee to the main Downtown branch of the Bank. He had been the senior assistant manager and he had attempted to teach her the mysteries of banking in Texas. Perhaps, he had done a good job, as her career had overtaken his a couple of years ago!

'Should we? It is lunchtime!' She knew the Bank's rules well and they were just about to break a second.

David indicated three men, laughing and joking at the bar, with large drinks in their hands. 'The middle guy is Henry Taylor! Have you met him?'

'Of course, I have. He's the Director for this area and your immediate boss!' She managed a tentative and very limp wave, when they were recognised. 'He should report you!' Henry waved his glass back!

The waiter had now arrived. 'A bottle of the Laurent-Perrier rose!' David was going to have a drink, even if she felt guilty about it. 'And four glasses!'

'So they felt sorry for you!' She turned the conversation back.

'As you know I was one of stars of the Oilers!' She did know a little of his footballing achievements, as the Bank was not above using him as a celebrity. 'But, I had to retire very early, as they couldn't fix my knee after that awful break.'

'But why should they feel sorry for you!' She knew that even twenty or so years ago, a footballer would not have been on the bread line. 'You had been to a good school and a top class college. You had a good insurance deal. You'd been careful with your money. The Bank had offered you a good job.' She could have added that she found him handsome and distinguished. He would have been a real god, then! 'It doesn't sound that you needed sympathy!'

'Perhaps not!' He sat back as the waiter brought the drinks, glasses and an ice-bucket of real Texas proportions. When two glasses had been poured he continued. 'I'd played golf here, as a guest and in the Pro-Am they hold each year. I must have impressed someone, as when I became injured, they felt lots of golf might be able to help with my recovery.'

'That was very good of them.' She felt it didn't fit with the stuffy and uncaring image of the club. She got on extremely well with David and knew him to be the best of company, but that was a magnamimous gesture!

'They gave me one of their special Sportsman's Memberships, which is normally reserved for retiring greats of the field, the court or the turf!' He gestured as if to mock! 'I wasn't that great. Even if I thought so at the time!'

'Does that mean you get in free?' That would certainly appeal to many, as membership would by no means be affordable!

'I get a discount!' He leant forward as if to be confidential. 'Keep it quiet, but they wanted to improve the image of the club, by getting a few younger members from different backgrounds. And especially, one who was a handsome, self-made man from the wrong side of the tracks. And a nigger to boot!'

***

'You did a good job with the Bradfords! They were very pleased with everything!' David paused to take a sip of the champagne. 'It was they who suggested that we all have this lunch, as a thank you to both of us!' He smiled as some inner thought bubbled up in his mind. 'I thought you might like to meet Catherine socially!'

'Thank you! I was only doing my job.' She always liked to be praised. And especially by someone like David, who was well-respected throughout the Bank. 'But why did you want to meet me early? They're not due for another half-an-hour!'

'They are a superb couple and they've all done this city proud.'

She felt he was being a bit parochial. 'Come on David! They've made a sizeable mark on the world, with a product that makes a lot of peoples lives much better and a lot happier. Not many can say that!' Banking seldom gave such a pleasure directly.

'True!' He paused, as if he wanted to say something that was difficult. 'Vee-Bee!' He repeated her name. 'Vee-Bee! You're an old friend and like me, you live alone. I need someone I can trust to discuss a problem with!' He paused again. 'A very personal problem!'

Copyright 1999 by Ewart Higgins