'And were there?'
'I imagine so.'
'Why didn't you keep in touch? Why did it have to be such a complete break?'
'Pride, I suppose. We'd both said too much. Maybe if I'd gone about it differently things wouldn't have exploded like they did, but I was battling against male egos all day at work, and the one person who I thought would understand my difficulties and be sympathetic let me down. I doubt Joe had given it much thought. He was off to America and wanted me with him. Quite simple. He only stayed over there to do that one film.'
'Is he married these days?'
'These days?' Freddy grinned. 'You can tell from his books that he has a nice line in cynicism on that particular subject.'
'So how do you feel about him now?' asked Judith.
Freddy gave her a suspicious look. 'What do you mean?'
'Simple question. You meet the guy again after a break of a few years. When you looked into his eyes, what did you feel?'
'Credit me with some sense, Ju!' protested Freddy. 'You don't put your fingers in the fire twice unless you're a complete idiot. I got burned rather badly once.'
'No need to put your hand right in, is there? A little scorching could be fun. You've got in a rut emotionally. Treat yourself.' Judith scraped back her chair, gulped down the rest of the tea and disappeared into the hall, calling,
'Meggie, it's time we were off,' coming back in to add, 'You have to decide whether to live dangerously or vegetate.'
'Isn't there a happy medium?' demanded Freddy wryly.
The first thing Freddy did, after waving Judith's Mini out of sight, was to replace Joe's book on the shelf. She avoided looking at the photograph; she didn't need reminding of the level stare and quirky mouth. Meeting Joe again had set her brain into high-speed activity last night and, when she had tossed and turned and finally realised she was not going to get off to sleep, she had fetched the book and skimmed through it again. It was well written, with humour and soul-searching self-analysis, giving a slightly cynical view of life, but ending on an upward note. It had been nominated for the Booker Prize.
Freddy was unable to dispel Joe from her mind while she went around doing the household chores. He had been closer to the truth than she cared to admit when he had joked about her life being neat and tidy. And what was wrong with that? It had taken time and discipline to make it so, and she couldn't exist as a single parent with it otherwise. Corey, she decided firmly, could stay out of it.
Freddy gazed out of the window, hands in washing-up water. Wasn't she assuming rather a lot? Meeting trouble half-way? Joe had been very Joelike last night, a mood she knew well, but in the clear light of day, who was Freddy Leigh, other than an ex-lover?
Live dangerously or vegetate. Judith's words rang in her ears. Freddy had no intention of doing either. Things never stayed the same, she was realistic enough to accept that. Judith would marry her biochemist and leave, and Mrs Mallory, Freddy's stalwart, dependable daily, would decide to retire. Such things were out of her control and she would adapt accordingly, but Joe Corey was something she could have a say in. Freddy wrote a note to Mrs Mallory, reminding her to collect Megan from school at the usual time, and then drove the Renault into the city for an hour's session in the library where she did some research on an idea for a programme.
As she made her way to the Atticus offices her thoughts returned to Joe. He had been hovering on the edge of them while she had been in the library, much to her annoyance, and now that they were about to meet again Freddy was determined to treat him just like any other professional colleague. She had barely taken off her coat when the telephone rang and the girl from reception said, 'A Mr Corey is here to see you, Miss Leigh.' There was an archness in her voice that told Freddy how quickly news of the night before's kiss had travelled, quicker than most, for she hugged her private life closely and no one knew much about it. She said briskly, 'I'll come on down.'
She made her way to reception and was determined there would be no welcoming kiss this time. Joe was reading a newspaper left for visitors' use which he folded and dropped when he saw her.
'Good morning, Joe,' Freddy said briskly. 'I have to wait for a telephone call, but it shouldn't be long. I thought you might like to see round while we're waiting.' She looked beyond him to reception and the two girls behind the desk hastily averted their eyes and became busy. Freddy subdued a smile of satisfaction and turned, leading the way into a corridor off. As they passed each door she listed the occupants.
'Administrative Manager, Head of Scripts and Development, Director of Productions—that's Patrick Tyson, of course—plus their secretaries' rooms.'
The lift doors were already open and she stepped in, waiting until Joe joined her, and then pressed the button.
Now she was obliged to look at him fully. He was leaning against the opposite wall, offering a more casual image than the night before, with a tweed jacket, check shirt, a mustard tie and brown cords. Wrapped once round his neck and hanging nearly to his knees was a hand-knitted vermilion-coloured scarf.
'I see,' he drawled, giving a lazy smile, 'that you're admiring my scarf.'
'I was thinking I might have to put on dark glasses,' admitted Freddy.
'A labour of love by a favourite niece.' Joe lifted up an end, giving it due attention. 'She was worried about the mistakes, but I told her they made the thing unique, that someone who doesn't make a mistake makes nothing.'
'Very true,' agreed Freddy, knowing all about mistakes from experience. 'I didn't know you had a niece, Joe.'
'No reason why you should. I have three, as a matter of fact. I can't remember us being much interested in anyone other than ourselves, can you, Fred?' His eyes held hers mockingly.
The lift stopped and the doors slid open. Freddy made no reply and stepped out, looking back when Joe didn't follow.
'No mistakes in that,' he commented, eyes drifting over the grey-green knitted two-piece she was wearing. He pushed himself from the wall and strolled out of the lift.
'I should hope not, at the price,' observed Freddy crisply, immediately self-conscious about her body and making a great effort to walk naturally.
'On this floor we have the Casting, Projection and Editing rooms, and this, and the room beyond, are for freelance. The floor above has a couple of interview rooms and houses the commercial section.' She opened the nearest door and walked into a room consisting of four large desks and numerous cupboards. The air was stale and Freddy emptied a couple of used ashtrays and opened a window.
'We should have the place to ourselves for a bit,' she said, making the window-catch firm. 'Would you like coffee? It's always on the go. No milk, I'm afraid.' She collected two cups and crossed to the coffee-maker.
'Do you prefer being freelance?' Joe hitched himself on to one of the desks and Freddy handed him his coffee and set down the sugar-bowl in front of him. She went to another desk and sat down in the chair behind it.
'It suits me. There's a tendency to get stuck with either drama or documentary when you're working for the bigger corporations. You get labelled. Here there's more choice. Patrick is accommodating that way.'
'You like working for him?'
'Yes... I owe him a lot. He took rather a chance on me initially.' The telephone rang and Freddy answered it. It didn't take long and she made notes in her diary and when the call was finished she downed her coffee and rose. 'We can go now, if you're ready.' She unhooked her coat from the back of the chair, waited while Joe finished his drink and then led the way back to reception. She told the girls there where she would be in case she was wanted— this in case Megan had an accident, or was ill—and joined Joe who was waiting outside on the steps of the building.
Well, that had gone off all right, Freddy thought as she buttoned up her coat. A light breeze caught and tossed a heap of leaves that had settled round the base of one of the trees that lined the pavement. It had been September when she and Joe had first met, she remembered.
'Shall we go
in my car? There's no point in taking two, unless you have to shoot off fairly soon?' Freddy wondered if she sounded too hopeful.
'I'm completely in your hands,' replied Joe expansively, 'and becoming more and more impressed with the efficient Miss Leigh every minute.'
'Good. You might tell Patrick.'
'I doubt he needs telling. Patrick, if nothing else, is astute.'
'Don't you like him?' There had been an odd nuance in his voice that prompted the question, glancing back over her shoulder as she asked it.
'I don't care for him as a person too much.' Joe grabbed her arm and swung her out of the path of a woman with a pram. For a few seconds Freddy was hard against his chest, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the strength of his hands. She muttered 'Thanks' as she regained her balance, aware that her heart was beating that much faster. Perhaps Judith was right; she was in an emotional rut-poor old sex-starved Freddy, she mocked—but Joe Corey wasn't the answer.
As she opened up the Renault, Houdini rose from the depths of the rear and attempted to get through to the front. 'Back, Dini,' she ordered, and he compromised by getting stuck between the two seats. She slid behind the wheel, pushing his head away, and leaned over to unlock the passenger door, saying as Joe joined her, 'He's quite tame, don't worry.'
'I'm very glad to hear it.' There was laughter in his voice. 'Your chaperon, Fred?'
She grinned. 'Hardly. He looks ferocious, but he's the daftest dog imaginable,' and to prove it, Houdini pushed his black face inquisitively into Joe's and proceeded to give it a loving scrub with an over-active tongue. With the ease of someone well used to dogs and their behaviour Joe thrust him off good-naturedly and dried himself with the end of his scarf.
'I usually leave him at home,' Freddy explained, 'but my daily isn't coming in until after midday, and he looked so sad ... He's a mournful-looking beast at the best of times, but when he really tries it's devastating emotional blackmail. Have you no dignity, Dini?' she demanded severely, bursting into laughter at the sight of four legs waving in the air as he rolled on his back on the seat for Joe to scratch him. She turned to Joe, ready to share her enjoyment, the laughter fading as she found him watching her with an odd look on his face. She asked uncertainly, 'What's the matter?'
'I've just had my first glimpse of the Frederica I used to know. Are you on your guard against everyone, Fred, or is it only me?'
A pulse beat rapidly in her throat. She gave a dismissive laugh and started up the engine. 'I'm not the same person you knew, Joe, so it's no good looking for her.' She drove out of the car park, changing the subject by saying. 'I'm taking you to look in on a Tandy shoot. Have you seen any of the series?'
Joe was silent a moment, as if he were contemplating challenging the switch of. conversation. Finally he replied, 'I've seen one or two.'
'The clients think it will take another twelve episodes and so far the scripts uphold their view. There's a team of writers so perhaps it's easier for the scripts to remain fresh, less chance of them becoming boring. Each episode takes eight and a half weeks, and it's shot on a tight budget. We're lucky to have David Herrick working on this episode— there's a team of directors and producers as well as writers on Tandy.' Freddy pulled into a side street and parked behind a row of cars. 'We're here,' she offered, and, ignoring Houdini's reproachful face, led the way into a large building that ran the length of the street. The red light above the inner doors wasn't on, but Freddy still waited, watching through the glass until the scene being rehearsed finished before they entered. It was as if they had walked into the interior of a real police station, only the cameras and lights indicating that it was a television studio.
Freddy and Joe positioned themselves out of sight of the cameras and waited for the scene to be shot. When it was finished and the director went into a huddle with his lighting cameraman, Freddy explained, 'This is a permanent set with room at the back to build a couple of temporary ones. As you see, we use a four-man camera crew and we hire all the equipment—it's more economical in the long run, we've found. They're making technical improvements all the time, so it means we're always using the most up-to-date equipment.' She finished speaking as a grey-eyed, dark-haired man in his early forties came up, a warm smile lighting up his face.
'Hello, Freddy, glad you've come, I wanted a word with you. How were yesterday's rushes?'
'Fine, David. You'll be pleased with them.' She glanced at Joe, adding,
'Patrick hoped you wouldn't mind if I brought Joe Corey along with me this morning—he's interested in the way we work.'
She made the introductions and Joe asked a few pertinent questions, indicating he was no novice on a television set, and then he said, 'I'm sure you have things to discuss,' and he excused himself and wandered over to the camera crew, the head cameraman shaking his hand enthusiastically as if he knew him. Freddy was reminded that however popular Joe was with the ladies he was also well liked by men. She also remembered how they could never go anywhere without Joe bumping into someone he knew, and he hadn't changed in that respect, either.
'Who is he?' David asked, curiously. 'The name's vaguely familiar. Should 1 know him?' Mm... I think so. Do you remember a play set in Flanders during the First World War called Over The Hill? It was based on one of his books.'
She glanced over at Joe.
'Ah, yes, that fellow. An impressive play.' David fell silent, following her gaze, adding after a moment, 'What's he like?'
'Easy enough to drag around,' Freddy answered evasively. 'Are we still having dinner together next Friday? If so, can you come to me? I might have sitter problems.'
David gave his slow smile and tucked her arm through his. 'Yes, we are, and yes, I'll come. I'll bring the wine. Eight o'clock all right?'
Freddy smiled and nodded, and they began to walk over to the crew. She had known David for as long as she had worked for Atticus. He was a widower with two young teenage sons at boarding school. She found him an undemanding, understanding companion and respected his work. They often found themselves paired together professionally. As they neared, Joe turned his head and watched them approach, his eyes coolly assessing, his expression impassive.
'We'll break for lunch now,' David said, looking at his watch. 'Are you coming over?' he asked Freddy, who glanced at Joe.
'Does a pub lunch suit you, Joe?' she asked, and when he said that it did, the whole of the cast and crew made their way over the road to the Crossed Keys public house.
Nothing of note happened during lunch. Freddy and Davfd discussed the rest of the week's schedule, while bursts of laughter issued from the group around Joe. He was listening to his cameraman friend with a smile on his face and an expression of one who is hearing anecdotes about himself. David shook Joe's hand before he left, calling back to Freddy, 'See you Friday,' as he went out of the door.
Joe made no comment, his eyes following David's progress through the window until he disappeared into the studio's entrance.
Freddy checked the time and said, 'I'm doing a follow-up on a nose job next and meeting the crew in thirty minutes. If you're ready, I think we'd better go.'
'Plastic surgery, do you mean?' queried Joe as they stepped out of the pub. Freddy nodded, digging into her bag for the car keys. Houdini, who had been given a walk before lunch, was breathing heavily on the side window, steaming the glass. 'It's for the Sixty Minutes documentary programme. She's quite a character, Viv. Good fun and...' Freddy's voice trailed and she frowned, hunting in the pockets of her coat, and again in her bag, finally peering through the window at the keys dangling tantalisingly out of reach from the steering column lock. She closed her eyes, gave a huge sigh and said flatly, 'I've locked us out.' She glanced at Joe, face blank, and then at the keys, disbelief colouring her voice although she could see the evidence all too clearly as she said again, 'I've locked us out!'
'So it would seem,' replied Joe, controlling his amusement. 'No set of spares?'
Freddy dived into her bag again and stopped, a
n arrested expression on her face. 'I changed my bag in a hurry this morning.' She glared at him. 'I've never done this before—and don't you dare laugh, Joe Corey.'
'I wouldn't dream of doing so.'
'What the hell do I do now?' Freddy hurriedly looked at her watch.
'Wait,' said Joe laconically, 'all may not be lost.' He returned to the Crossed Keys, coming back with a screwdriver and a wire coat-hanger. 'Just one of my many accomplishments,' he confided and set to work, gently prising down the window enough to insert the hanger—now bent to suit the purpose— and, after some delicate probing, teasing up the lock. Expelling a long held-in breath, Freddy exclaimed, 'Joe, you're a bloomin'
marvel!' Opening the door with relief, she quietened Houdini, who had become wildly excited by the whole affair, slobbering over everything, and settled in her seat.
'Glad to be of service, ma'am,' Joe said, smiling a little wickedly. He returned the screwdriver to the landlord and tossed the ruined hanger on to the back window-ledge.
Freddy set off, anxiously looking at the dash clock. 'Today is our final session,' she explained. 'Viv is twenty-five and we've followed her through the initial visit to her doctor and from there to the consultant surgeon. I personally can't see that much difference between the old nose and the new one-he removed a piece of bone from the bridge—but Viv's delighted and that's all that matters. We covered the operation, monitored the swelling and bruising, and now her face is back to normal we're ready to film the nose in all its perfection. It's taken about nine weeks from the op to now.' She swung the car into a cul-de-sac and pulled up behind an Atticus van. 'The crew's here, but we're not late-thanks to you.'
As she introduced Joe to Viv and the crew, Freddy silently prayed that nothing else would go wrong. She had the most understandable wish for a smooth final session, with Joe looking on, and to her relief everything progressed without any further hitches. When she was satisfied with the takes the crew dismantled the camera, lights and microphone and left. As Freddy and Joe were about to leave, a cup of coffee later, Freddy promised Viv that she would let her know the date the programme was going out. As they approached the Renault Freddy had the most awful feeling sweep over her, and she stopped hard in her tracks. Joe, a pace behind, nearly bumped into her.
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