The Fixer

by Claudia Carroll

  But normality could feck right off with itself.

  ‘I’m here to see Freddie de Courcey,’ she said to a bright, smiley guy at reception, who appeared to be wearing foundation and contouring like a catwalk model.

  ‘Well, well, well, lucky you,’ he purred back at her, with a sly little wink.

  So Harriet followed the directions to the tenth floor, stepped out of the lift and was just about to march down a long orange-carpeted corridor that she guessed led to the boardroom, when she heard her name being called out loud.

  ‘Harriet! Golly, what a wonderful surprise!’

  She looked around to see an open office door, where Freddie sat alone at a desk in a room the approximate size of a toilet cubicle, with a computer in front of him and a clear view of the airport runway through a floor-to-ceiling window directly behind.

  Out it all came, everything. She blurted her story at him, her very worst fears, everything.

  And now, here he is, just blinking two bewildered blue eyes back at her.

  ‘So . . . what are you thinking?’ he asks, tentatively.

  ‘What am I thinking?’ says Harriet, pacing up and down the tiny office, so she can get her thoughts properly in order. It’s a trick she’s picked up from Meg and you know what? It works no end. ‘I’m thinking that I’ve been played for a complete idiot, Freddie, that’s what I’m thinking. And you too. By your own grandmother! Don’t you get what’s gone on here? Can’t you see the bigger picture? It beggars belief!’

  ‘Right, right,’ Freddie nods along. ‘Goodness, yes, it’s a rotten situation. Dreadful.’

  ‘Oh, I had it straight from the horse’s mouth,’ Harriet blurts out. ‘From George Markby Senior himself. Apparently, Meg did your grandmother a pretty big favour a year ago and was given the use of that flat in part payment.’

  ‘Right, right, right,’ says Freddie, trying to look like he knows what’s going on, but still not really grasping it.

  ‘So now,’ Harriet says, turning to face him, ‘ask yourself. What can that favour possibly have been? What happened one year ago? That involved Meg? Your grandmother more or less gifted Meg the lease on that apartment. Now, Freddie, why was that? Take a wild guess as to why she’d do a thing like that.’

  ‘Well . . . emm,’ says Freddie, ‘a year ago . . . let me think . . .’

  ‘A year ago is when I left to go to Africa,’ Harriet finishes the thought for him. ‘Now, maybe that’s an astonishing coincidence, maybe I’m way off the mark – but I have a horrible feeling that I’m not. And you want to know the worst bit of all?’ she asks, walking over to the window and staring down at the runway. ‘My year abroad? It was entirely her doing – sure, she’s the one who put the thought into my head in the first place! I had Meg down as a friend. I really did. But the whole time, she was playing me. God, when I think about it, she was playing me like a violin!’

  ‘Utterly incomprehensible. . .’ Freddie tries to say, but Harriet is way too het up to answer.

  ‘In fact, now that I think of it,’ she says, ‘it’s no wonder Meg was so cold and unwelcoming when I first landed back on her doorstep the other night. You should have seen her, Freddie! It was like I was a complete stranger. I couldn’t wrap my head around it at first, I even put it down to her being stressed at work. Which,’ she adds ironically, ‘I guess she was, in a way. But now – well, now it all makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Emm . . . does it?’ he says cautiously.

  ‘Because of course, the very minute Meg saw me, she knew it was game over for her. And for her precious apartment too.’

  ‘Right, right-i-o,’ says Freddie. ‘Yes. Of course. All perfectly clear now. And you’re quite certain?’

  ‘Oh, I’m certain all right,’ Harriet steams. ‘I had it just now, in plain English, from your family solicitors.’

  But he just looks back at her, blinking stupidly.

  ‘Come on, Freddie,’ Harriet says. ‘Join the dots here. That apartment was payment in kind. Meg’s job was to get me out of your life, and didn’t she play her part to perfection? Sweet God, someone hand that girl an Oscar.’

  ‘Right, right, yes,’ says Freddie, nodding along. ‘Yes, you’re quite entitled to be cross about it. I know I am, too. Livid. Dreadful carry-on.’

  ‘But here’s what kills me most of all,’ Harriet says, stopping to look right at him. ‘Your grandmother hasn’t even met me yet! So why would she just want me out of your life, without even taking the trouble getting to know me first? Have you any idea how hurtful that is?’

  At that thought, Freddie says nothing, just looks a bit bashful.

  ‘Freddie?’ Harriet says, honing in on him. ‘Is there something you want to tell me?’

  ‘No, no. Nothing at all. Good lord, nothing.’

  She sees through him though, in a matter of seconds.

  ‘Maybe . . .’ she begins carefully, formulating her thoughts as she speaks, ‘something like this has happened before?’

  Freddie blushes, like a little boy, and right there, she has her answer.

  ‘You have got to be kidding me,’ she says, shaking her head furiously. ‘You mean, she’s actually done this kind of thing in the past?’

  ‘Well . . . em . . .’ he says, twisting his hands in a nervous gesture.

  ‘Please, Freddie! Just tell me, will you?’ Harriet rarely raises her voice, but she is at breaking point.

  ‘A lie I cannot tell,’ he says, like the good little public schoolboy that he was. ‘Yes, it actually did happen before.’

  ‘Go on,’ Harriet says, folding her arms.

  ‘You have to understand,’ Freddie says apologetically, ‘that my grandmother very much sees herself in loco parentis as far as I’m concerned. Not to mention, I’m an only child. So, lord love her, but the woman does have a terrible habit of dabbling in my private life. Sometimes . . . well, more than sometimes . . . Well, quite a fair bit, if I’m being honest about it, really.’

  ‘So? What happened?’

  ‘Oh . . .’ he says, ruffling his hands through his thick red hair, ‘well, it was such a long time ago, and she really wasn’t a particularly nice ex-girlfriend. A gold digger is what Granny called her, and the thing is, I don’t think she was actually wrong either, do you see. Retrospectively, of course.’

  ‘Why would you say that?’

  ‘Because Granny went behind my back,’ he says, twisting his hands nervously. ‘And she offered the young lady in question a rather sizeable sum to . . . well, just exit stage left, I suppose is the politest way of putting it.’

  ‘You’re joking,’ Harriet says, in shock. ‘You mean she paid off your ex, to just disappear?’

  ‘Quite a substantial sum too, if I remember,’ Freddie says, shoving both his hands deep into his pockets. ‘Of course, I knew nothing about this, only that one minute I had a girlfriend and the next minute, I didn’t. Couldn’t fathom it. Thought it was something I’d either said or done, or that she’d just had enough of me, but no, turned out not to be my fault at all. It was ages afterwards before Granny told me what had happened, and by then of course the damage was well and truly done . . . and . . . well . . . you know . . .’

  ‘You were probably seeing someone else by then,’ Harriet says, a bit calmer now. ‘Of course you were.’

  ‘Nothing quite like this has ever happened before though,’ Freddie rushes to reassure her. ‘This is on a whole different level. Even for my grandmother, and this was a woman who once flew the Atlantic solo, with an aircraft engine about the size of a hairdryer. She’s one tough lady. Always having political fundraisers at the house, then reducing senior ministers to tears. Does it for fun, I sometimes think.’

  ‘I mean, what kind of a family are you?’ Harriet asks, shaking her head as she tries to process it all. ‘Who behaves like this?’

  ‘I know, but look at it this way,’ Freddie says, sounding softer now. ‘It’s a measure of just h
ow threatened Granny is by you, that she’d go to such bother in the first place. Because she knows how much you mean to me. And she knows you’re different from all the others, Harriet. So wonderfully different.’

  ‘Really?’ she says, slightly more mollified now, as Freddie comes around to where she’s standing, and gently slips both arms around her waist.

  ‘Yes, really,’ he says softly. ‘That year you were away? Awful! I missed you so much, and it was a nightmare trying to get a hold of you with Skype or WhatsApp, because you were always working . . . on . . . emm . . . you know, latrines, and so forth.’

  ‘Clean water initiatives,’ she prompts.

  ‘Yes, yes, all so wonderful. Anyway, it’s fine and dandy now, because here we are. Together. And it’s . . . lovely. Don’t you think so too?’

  She nods as he pulls her in tighter, till she is snuggled up against him.

  ‘I’m so, so sorry,’ he says. ‘About my family, I mean. About all of it. Getting in the way, interfering . . .’

  ‘Freddie, it’s unthinkable what your grandmother did,’ Harriet says, pulling away from him. ‘I was played like a pawn on a chessboard. And what kills me most of all is . . . why? Why were your family so anxious to get rid of me in the first place? You can say a lot of things about me, but I’m certainly not a gold digger. I shop in Penneys, for God’s sake. And I like it. I live out of Lidl and Aldi. I’m good with budgets. I got a taxi out here, but that’s about the most extravagant thing I’ve done in years.’

  ‘I know,’ he says soothingly, ‘I know. Don’t get upset, please.’

  ‘Is it because I didn’t go to the right school?’ she insists. ‘Or because of my accent, or because I don’t have the right connections? Would you please mind telling me why I’m so objectionable?’

  ‘But you’re not! No one could possibly think that about you, ever.’

  ‘I mean to say,’ she sniffs into his shirt, as he pulls her back into his arms again, ‘if you felt that way, then that would be one thing. It would be a helluva lot of trouble for you to go to, just to break up with me, but still – I’d take the hint and you wouldn’t see me for dust. But for someone who’s never laid eyes on me to do this?’

  ‘Don’t be cross,’ Freddie says kindly. ‘Because just look at us! Here we both are, and we’re together and it just goes to show the lot of them, Granny included, that we’re bigger than all of them.’

  ‘So what do you suggest?’ she says.

  ‘Here’s what you do,’ he says gently. ‘Come to the fundraiser at the house tomorrow, just as we’d planned, and let me introduce you to Granny – and my grandfather too, and let’s have it all out in the open.’

  Just then, Harriet’s mobile rings, in her jacket pocket. She automatically pulls away from Freddie, so she can glance down at the screen to see who’s calling.

  Meg Mobile

  ‘Well, well, well,’ she says, waving the phone at Freddie. ‘This just got very interesting.’

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Meg

  ‘Hey, hon, am I disturbing you?’ I ask, hoping I sound perky and upbeat. Bright and breezy is always the best tone with someone like Harriet, I’ve invariably found. Gets you so much further.

  ‘No, it’s OK, I can talk,’ Harriet says.

  I could swear I can hear the sound of someone being shushed in the background, but dismiss it immediately.

  ‘Lucky you, lady of leisure,’ I smile. ‘Wish I was!’

  ‘So whereabouts are you?’ Harriet asks calmly.

  ‘Oh, stuck here at the company head office,’ I say. Total lie, of course; I’m actually still at Government Buildings, bolting up the stairs on my way to Katherine’s office. Jess is due back very shortly, but for a precious few minutes, I hope to have the run of the place, with no one to double-check what I’m up to. So the plan is to make a copy of every single name and address on that electoral database onto a spare USB stick, which by pure good fortune, I have in my bag. Now, while I can.

  This information, I think, breathless after yet another flight of stairs, will make my job so piss-easy from here on in. This is Grade A gold dust. Talk about being in the right place, at the right time? All I need to do now is get to work on Harriet and, God knows, that shouldn’t pose too many challenges, should it? Like shooting fish in a barrel.

  ‘So, you’re at the head office of Pest Be Gone?’ Harriet says down the phone. ‘Isn’t that where you said you worked? Just wanted to make sure I got the name right.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ I say, a bit surprised that she’d even ask, but then there you go, that’s Harriet for you. Total weirdo.

  ‘You poor thing, working so hard on a sunny day like this,’ Harriet goes on, and am I imagining it, or is there a slight edge to her voice?

  ‘Oh never mind about me,’ I say. ‘What about you? We have so much news to get through, don’t we? So how about we meet up later on this evening? Slice of pizza and a glass of wine? Just like we used to?’

  ‘No,’ Harriet says. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  ‘O-kaay,’ I say slowly, unused to hearing Harriet say the word ‘no’. She’s usually so pliant and malleable. ‘Well, not to worry, I’ll see you tonight back at the flat. Maybe we can have a glass of wine and good old catch-up chat then?’

  ‘Or not,’ Harriet says.

  ‘But I’m so dying to hear all about your date night with Freddie! You still have to fill me in. I had to leave the flat so early this morning . . .’

  ‘To get to work, I suppose?’ Harriet says. ‘To your big, important job at Pest Be Gone?’

  Her whole tone has changed. No, I’m not imagining things. There’s definite toughness, a flintiness that’s never been there before.

  ‘Harriet?’ I ask, sounding puzzled now. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ comes the reply. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

  ‘You seem . . .’ I break off, searching for the right word. Stronger? More assertive? ‘Not like yourself,’ is what I settle on.

  ‘Oh, I’m absolutely fine,’ is all Harriet says. ‘I’m great, in fact. Never been better.’

  ‘Then we’ll talk later?’

  But Harriet doesn’t answer. Instead, the call just clicks off.

  I have to double-check, to make sure my phone has a full signal.

  But no, there’s no mistaking it. Harriet just hung up on me.

  The worm, it seems, has turned.

  *

  And there’s more bad news to come. I slip into Katherine’s office and, just as I thought, have the place entirely to myself. So I fire up Billy’s computer and quickly run a search for that precious, precious database.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  It’s here all right, but password-protected. I call Billy to get the password; his phone goes straight to voicemail. Well, he’s probably in the studio with Katherine right now, I think, so of course, his phone is switched off. I leave a bright, breezy message for him; nothing to arouse suspicion.

  ‘Hey, it’s me. I’m at Government Buildings, and if you want all these fliers to be zipped out to Katherine’s constituents before the weekend, then it might be an idea to give me the password?’

  Return my call quickly, I silently will him, now, while the office is empty and when I can do what I need to do.

  But he doesn’t. Precious minutes tick by and I’m just about to call him again when Jess bounces in, spies me on my own and is over like a bullet.

  ‘Meg, there you are!’ she beams. ‘I thought I’d never get to talk to you in private! You won’t believe this, but I called the number on that business card you gave me for Callaghan, and his election agent asked for a meeting with me on Tuesday morning, right after the election. “To discuss the future,” were his exact words. Can you believe it?’ she gushes, eyes shining. ‘This could be it for me – Brussels, here I come!’

  I put on my best ‘interested and pleased’ face, while she rabbits, on and on. Course, this means the
end of any chink of privacy I might have had to get my paws on that database.

  For now.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Harriet

  ‘Harriet! Welcome back from . . . wherever the feck you’ve been for the last year!’

  ‘You look good, baby sis . . . a bit on the skinny side, but good!’

  ‘And look who’s just arrived – Tim Nice-But-Dim!’

  ‘Good to see you, Tim!’

  ‘Freddie!’ Harriet squeals at the twins. ‘His name is Freddie!!! What, are you pair thick?’

  ‘No, we’re just getting married in three months’ time, what do you expect us to be anyway, sober?’

  The Trocadero restaurant in Dublin’s city centre is jam-packed to capacity, as Harriet’s family have all gathered for dinner, to celebrate the first time the entire Waters clan has been together in over a year. Sean, Harriet’s dad has even booked everyone into the Brooks hotel, close to the restaurant, for the night, ‘So there’s no driving back home for anyone!’ as he helpfully said.

  ‘Wicked,’ says Terry delightedly. ‘This way we can all stagger straight to bed after dinner and a few bottles of vino.’

  ‘Although that’s the last treat the pair of you are getting out of your mother and I for at least the next decade,’ Harriet’s dad had replied. ‘This wedding has the two of us bankrupt!’

  Meanwhile, Harriet sits beside her mam, clinging onto each other, laughing and chatting and still catching up with all the gossip and news. They’d had a blissful family reunion at the airport earlier that afternoon, where Harriet had left Freddie at the Connair offices and gone to meet her parents straight off their flight home from New York. And they’d barely stopped to draw breath since. Now they are happily ensconced at a table together, both of them loving being face to face with each other again.

  Freddie de Courcey has been invited to join the family for dinner too. However Terry and Jack have immediately dragged him over to the bar with them, catching him in a rough pincer movement, gripping him by the neck and arms, ruffling his hair and generally treating him like he is one of their own.