by Ali McNamara
‘It’s working!’ green-dress woman shouts. ‘Look, my Rocky’s getting better.’
‘She’s right,’ one of the men agrees. ‘I think the girl has done it.’
Two paramedics arrive then, and I’m pleased to see that’s what they are, not just ambulance drivers as they might have been in my previous re-incarnations.
‘Everyone stand back,’ they call. ‘We’ll take over now.’
They look with horror at me still feeding Rocky medicine. ‘What have you been giving him?’ the older of the two men demands.
‘It’s an antihistamine medication,’ I explain quickly. ‘I think Rocky may have had an allergic reaction to nuts.’ I gesture towards the peanut bowl.
The paramedic stares at me for a moment. ‘We’ll be the judge of that,’ he says as I stand up and move out of the way to let him deal with Rocky.
‘Are you all right?’ Ellie asks as I walk slowly back over towards her. ‘You look very white.’
‘Yeah, I’m fine. It was a bit stressful for a few minutes back then, that’s all.’
‘Saving lives usually is!’ Ellie says and she winks. ‘You did great, babe. How’d you know all that stuff?’
‘Someone at my – my old work suffered in the same way. When she had an attack we treated her with the same type of medicine.’
‘Who’d have thought peanuts could be so dangerous,’ Ellie says, wrinkling up her nose. ‘What with this and your toilet story earlier, I’m never touching them again!’
The younger paramedic comes over towards us. ‘You probably saved his life, you know,’ he says, nodding at me approvingly. ‘That was quick thinking – the antihistamine medication.’
‘Thanks, just pleased I could help.’
‘But how did you know? I’ve only seen a few cases like that, and that’s doing the job I do.’
‘I bet you’re gonna see a whole lot more over the next few years,’ I say knowingly as I spy Ringo heading this way now. ‘You’d better get prepared.’
‘Jo-Jo!’ he says, beaming at me, his shark-like teeth fully on display. ‘It seems I owe you a big favour. You appear to have saved the life of one of my most important clients.’
‘It’s fine, Ringo, really, you don’t owe me anything,’ I reply as I watch Rocky being wheeled away with an oxygen mask over his face.
‘Yes, I do,’ Ringo continues. ‘Anything I can do for you and Ellie ever, you just let me know, OK?’
‘Sure, Ringo,’ I say, but I’m distracted by Rocky who is attempting to pull the oxygen mask away from his face. He whispers to the paramedic on his right, who then beckons me over.
‘He wants to thank you,’ the paramedic says as I arrive by their side.
Rocky pulls the mask away again. ‘Rocky owes you,’ he says in a raspy voice. ‘Anything you want, you just come and see Rocky, OK?’
I nod at him. And, happy I’ve understood the gratitude his message implies, he allows the mask to return to his face, and the paramedics to escort him and his lady out of the club to the waiting ambulance.
‘I have to give it to you,’ Ellie says, coming up to me. ‘You country girls are quick workers.’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask, taking the glass of wine Ellie is holding out for me, and gulping a large mouthful of it.
‘In one evening you’ve managed to not only get the owner of one of the trendiest clubs this side of London eating out of your hand, but one of the biggest gangsters, too. You’ve only been here five minutes, Jo-Jo, what are you gonna get up to next?’
Twenty-Six
The next morning, fresh from my exploits at the club, I’m standing in front of the mirror in the ladies’ toilet at the office of the newspaper where Ellie and I work – apparently as ‘showbiz’ reporters, although from what I gather, it appears our job description may delve a bit deeper into the realms of generalised gossip-mongering.
‘Ready to rumble?’ Ellie asks as she emerges from the toilet cubicle and begins washing her hands at the sink.
‘Yes, but are you sure about this so-called tip-off?’
Ellie shakes her hands and pulls some green paper towel from a container. ‘Of course – Zak is one of my best sources.’
‘If you’re sure – but something doesn’t feel right about it.’
‘What’s up?’ Ellie asks, tossing the paper towel into the bin. ‘You still bothered about rogue Rigby’s reputation?’
‘No,’ I insist as we leave the toilets. ‘I just don’t want to storm in accusing someone of something if it’s not true, that’s all.’
‘We’re not going to storm in anywhere. Far from it. We need to find out what’s going on first, then we can break the story…’
As I ride along on the back of Ellie’s bike, I think about what Zak, Ellie’s source, has told her. He said he suspected Harry was involved in trafficking drugs. There was a ‘strong rumour’, he said, from those in the know, that Harry was using his record company as a cover to ship and supply all sorts of illegal substances to the UK, and that was how he’d made his money. It seemed that Harry was catering to the public’s tastes, but it wasn’t exactly their ears that were benefiting from his shipments.
I couldn’t believe that any of this was true. It just didn’t sound like Harry at all. Well, not the Harry I knew. But how could this version of him be so different from the others? Had something happened to him to make him this way?
Eventually we pull up outside a large modern building situated behind some black railings. There’s a security guard sitting in a wooden booth at the gates.
‘Now what do we do?’ I whisper to Ellie as we park the bike and remove our helmets. ‘We have no reason to be here, he’s not going to just let us in.’
‘Use your initiative!’ Ellie hisses. ‘Didn’t you learn anything in Norwich?’
‘Hello…’ I sidle up to the booth and smile sweetly at the security guard. ‘I’m here to see Mr Rigby.’
‘Name,’ he demands flatly.
‘Jo-Jo,’ I say without thinking.
‘Surname?’
‘McKenzie.’
The security guard scans the list in front of him. ‘Your name isn’t on the list,’ he says, looking up at me expressionless.
‘That’s because I don’t have an appointment,’ I point out, to his immediate annoyance. ‘I just wondered if I could see him.’
‘Mr Rigby is a very busy man,’ the security guard sighs. ‘He doesn’t see just anyone at the drop of a hat.’ He looks me up and down. Especially the likes of you, he may as well have added.
I look across at Ellie and pull a ‘help me’ face.
‘But Jo-Jo isn’t just anyone,’ Ellie says, emerging from the side of the wooden booth, so the security guard can see her beneath his hatch. ‘Mr Rigby virtually saved her life the other day down on the King’s Road. He’ll want to see her, I’m sure of it.’
The security guard looks suspiciously at Ellie.
‘Honestly!’ Ellie insists. ‘Didn’t he, Jo-Jo?’
‘In a way, I guess…’
‘There you go! So hadn’t you better check, just to be on the safe side?’ Ellie insists.
The security guard, more to get a peaceful life than to help us, I think, decides to pick up his phone and call through to the main building.
‘Harry won’t let us in if the guard tells him that story,’ I whisper to Ellie. ‘Why did you say that?’
‘It’s not that far from the truth, and if you don’t ask you don’t get. Plus we need to get inside that building!’
‘Mr Rigby will see you,’ the guard suddenly announces.
‘What? I mean, that’s great. Thank you,’ I say, smiling gratefully at him, as Ellie spins jubilantly around next to me.
‘You’ll need these,’ the guard says, handing us two lanyards with visitor passes dangling at the bottom of them. ‘Wear them at all times, and report to reception when you get inside.’
‘Thank you!’ Ellie calls to the guard, as she hangs the pass around her neck
. ‘You’ve been fandabbydozy!’
I stare after Ellie as she rushes through the opening electronic gates. Of course! It’s the eighties, The Krankies would be big right now. Well, as big as the little one was ever going to get.
‘Come on, Jo-Jo!’ she calls. ‘Stop daydreaming and get your ass in here!’
We rush across the car park to the main building and into reception.
‘Just sign in here, ladies, please,’ the receptionist says. ‘You’re expected.’
We quickly sign our names and the receptionist asks us to wait on some red leather settees while she informs Harry we’re here.
I have to smile as I look around the reception area of Beat Music – the décor is just so eighties! It’s all red, black and chrome – just like I’ve seen in interior magazines when they’ve talked about going retro. It’s very harsh and unforgiving, I guess a bit like the times. It’s all about money now, isn’t it? And lots of it.
‘When he gets here you distract him and I’ll slip away and go in search of some evidence with my camera,’ Ellie says, patting her bag.
‘What do you mean distract him?’ I ask in horror. ‘How?’
Ellie nods at my legs. I’m wearing a short red batwing sleeve dress and opaque black tights. ‘Use what God gave you!’ she suggests.
‘Yeah, like that will work,’ I laugh.
‘You’d be surprised!’ she says, winking. ‘Plus it’s all we’ve got right now!’
‘Jo-Jo,’ Harry says as he enters the reception area. ‘What a pleasant surprise to see you so soon. What can I do for you?’
Oops, we haven’t thought of a reason to be here yet. We really are useless at this. Well, I am.
‘Hello, Harry,’ I say, suddenly feeling a little shy. ‘Can I introduce my colleague, Ellie Williams?’
‘Good morning, Mr Rigby,’ Ellie says confidently, standing up to greet him. She walks over to shake his hand in a very accomplished, non-Ellie way. I’d wondered why she’d toned down the Madonna look today, and had erred more towards the Maggie Thatcher in a two-piece blue suit. She has more pearls slung round her neck and wrists than I’m sure Maggie owns, but it’s a very fine attempt on Ellie’s part to look sleek and sophisticated. ‘It’s a professional visit, I’m afraid.’
‘Is it now?’ Harry asks, looking amused. ‘And please, call me Harry.’
‘Certainly,’ Ellie gushes. ‘Well, Harry, Jo-Jo is writing a feature on the most eligible bachelors in the music industry, and we’d like to do a feature on you.’
Harry’s amusement turns to shock. He looks as surprised by this news as I am. ‘I – I’m sure we could arrange an interview some time,’ he stutters. ‘If you’d like, you can make an appointment with my secretary.’
‘Why not now?’ Ellie demands. ‘Since we’re here. It won’t take long. Jo-Jo can ask you a few questions and I’ll just take a few snaps, if that’s OK? Some of you and then some of your office, that kind of thing?’
Harry, looking flustered, glances at his watch. ‘I guess I could give you half an hour or so…’ he says hesitantly.
‘Great!’ Ellie says, grabbing her chance. ‘Let’s go!’
Harry leads us up to his office. Unlike the reception area and foyer, it’s not at all flash and modern. It’s very warm and quite cosy, with a large walnut desk and soft brown leather seats.
‘Would you like a drink?’ he asks as we sit down on two of the leather seats in front of his desk. ‘Tea, coffee?’
‘I’m fine, thanks, Harry,’ Ellie says as she begins unpacking her camera from her bag. ‘You two just carry on and I’ll start snapping some casual shots.’
‘Jo-Jo?’ Harry asks. ‘Can I get you anything? We have a very good coffee machine here. Top of the range.’
As Harry stands there in his grey suit, crisp white shirt and red and grey striped tie, I have a sudden flash of him as his former self with blue hair, and I’m distracted.
‘Ooh, I could murder a caramel macchiato right now, if it does one?’
Harry stares at me. ‘Er, I don’t think I’ve come across that one before…’
‘Oh sorry, I went on holiday to Italy recently, they’re quite advanced with their coffee over there. Sometimes I forget.’
‘Fancy,’ Harry says, eyeing me suspiciously. ‘Sorry, we just have plain filter here, but it is good. Will a cup of that do?’
‘Yes, of course. That would be lovely.’
Harry presses a buzzer on his desk, speaks to his secretary and asks for two coffees.
‘Now,’ he says, sitting down behind his desk and giving Ellie a pained glance as she darts round his desk, flashing her camera in his face. ‘What would you like to ask me?’
‘Ah, yes…’ I root about in my bag and, in amongst all the other junk I seem to carry around, I find a notebook and pen. I take it out and carefully turn to a new page.
Harry watches me do this with an impatient expression on his face.
‘So, Harry, have you had many girlfriends?’ I ask him.
Ellie, who happens to be standing behind Harry’s desk, grins in amusement.
‘A few, thank you,’ Harry says, leaning back in his leather chair; he casually links his hands together in his lap.
‘Good, good, and did you think any of them would ever make good wives?’
Ellie makes a snorting noise, which she swiftly turns into a cough.
I glare at her. What was I supposed to ask?
‘Maybe you’d like to go and take some photos around the building, Ellie?’ Harry suggests, turning around to look at her. ‘I’m sure Michelle will be delighted to show you around when she brings our coffees.’
‘Yes, Ellie,’ I agree, ‘perhaps you should go for a while.’
‘Yeah, yeah, I get it, you two – three’s a crowd and all that!’
‘Hardly,’ Harry mutters. ‘I’m just sick of you flashing that thing in my face.’
Ellie struggles to bite her tongue as Harry’s secretary appears through the door with two cups of coffee on a glass tray.
‘Thank you, Michelle,’ Harry says, smiling at her. ‘Would you be good enough to show Ellie around the offices? She’d like to flash somewhere else other than at me for a while.’
Ellie and Harry give each other similar looks of disdain as Ellie leaves the office with Michelle.
Harry watches them go and then turns his attention to me.
‘So, what are you really doing here?’ he asks, looking directly at me with his deep blue eyes, which never change, however much the rest of him does.
‘A story…’ I respond weakly, holding up my pad as if it’s evidence.
‘Oh really?’
‘Yes, really.’
‘Go on then,’ he says, sitting back in his high-backed leather chair, sipping casually on his coffee. ‘Ask away.’
I think for a moment.
‘Do you think being a rich, successful businessman helps or hinders you in your love life?’ I ask a bit bluntly.
Harry nods. ‘Good question. Direct. I like that.’ He thinks now. ‘That depends,’ he says.
‘On?’
‘On whether I’m looking for a permanent relationship or just a bit of fun?’
‘Define your answer,’ I say, trying to keep it short and to the point. I’m sensing he prefers this approach.
‘Do I need to?’ He raises an eyebrow again, but in a suggestive way this time instead of a cross one.
‘What do you prefer, then?’ I try to do the same. But I fear all I look like is someone with a nervous tic.
‘Well, I’m not wearing a gold band,’ he says, holding up his left hand.
‘I see…’ I pretend to scribble something down on my pad. Is he flirting with me? I knew I should have worn a longer skirt. Harry as an office boy and a teenager I could cope with, but this Harry just seems much more… dangerous.
‘And neither are you,’ he continues, ‘so perhaps you prefer the same?’
I pull awkwardly at the hem of my dress. Now I feel
like a gawky teenager. My cheeks are flushing too, I notice, as I feel them begin to burn.
Harry just watches me steadily as I suffer under his intense gaze.
‘But we’re here to discuss your availability as a bachelor, not mine,’ I recover eventually, ‘so, sadly, that information must remain under wraps for now.’
‘For now, eh?’ Harry says, smiling at me. ‘That suggests I’m going to see you again, Jo-Jo.’
I turn over the pages of my pad, even though I’ve only scribbled a couple of words down so far, and in my haste knock it to the floor.
‘Perhaps,’ I respond, as I pick it up again. ‘It depends on how well you answer my questions today, doesn’t it?’
Harry grins now. ‘I’m only winding you up. The truth is I’m pretty rubbish at relationships, actually. That’s why I don’t have a ring yet. Always too busy working.’
Now that sounds more like a scenario I’m familiar with.
I’m about to ask him another question but I’m prevented by an urgent hammering on Harry’s office door. Suddenly it’s thrust open and Michelle bursts through.
‘I’m so sorry to disturb you,’ she says to Harry, her eyes flickering in an irritated fashion in my direction. ‘But the other girl seems to have gone missing.’
‘What do you mean, missing?’ Harry asks, standing up behind his desk. He looks suspiciously at me.
‘She was with me for a while,’ Michelle explains, ‘and then she asked to go to the toilet. I waited for a bit while she visited the ladies’. But when she’d been in there over five minutes I thought I’d better check on her.’
‘And?’ Harry asks impatiently.
‘And she was gone. No one was in there. I’ve looked for her everywhere, but I simply can’t find her. I’m terribly sorry, Harry.’
I like how Harry’s staff call him by his first name; it’s very friendly and informal. But I don’t like how Harry is looking at me now.
‘Do you know anything about this?’ he demands.
‘Me? No, why would I?’
‘She’s your colleague.’
‘Ellie is a law unto herself. I can’t be held accountable for her actions.’ I rearrange my pad and pen in my lap.