by Jo Fenton
He’s sitting at a table near the back of the pub – a fact which he informed me of by text. I find him easily and get a few seconds of observation before he lowers his newspaper. In the six months since I last saw him, he’s gained a few grey hairs, and lost weight. He looks tired.
“Becks!” He folds his paper quickly, throws it on the table, and gets up. I’m enfolded in a hug tight enough to crack ribs. “God, I’ve missed you, girl,” he whispers against my ear.
I cling on for a moment, then pull away, a little too conscious that we’re in a public place. I sit down and pick up a menu, using it to shield my hot face.
I notice he takes his time to sit down and watches me intently while he does so. It’s been too long since we met and spoke, and there’s too much history for us to pick up and carry on as though nothing had happened. I feel as tongue-tied as a teenager on a first date. Actually, I think Cheryl would make a better job of this meeting than I’m doing right now. The thought of my younger daughter calms me. I’m part of a close family unit. I’m not on a date. Finn’s an old friend and colleague – nothing more, despite my physical reaction to him.
I take a deep breath and lower the menu so I can read it. Middle-aged eyesight demands the use of varifocals, but I hate the things, and can never find the right place to look through for reading. More often than not, I just take the damn things off to read. This time I manage to find the sweet spot on the lenses so keep the glasses on my face. They hide some lines anyway – a good thing right now.
“What do you recommend?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I’ve not been here for a while – not since last summer.”
I can feel his gaze on me, intent and determined, and I flush, although I keep focussing on the menu.
“You know what, I’m not that hungry. I think I’ll just have a coffee.” My insides are churning.
“I’ll get it. I think I’ll just have a coffee as well.” He takes the menu out of my hands and goes to the bar. I feel a little bereft with nothing left to hide behind, and my pulse races once more. I’ve not seen him since the warehouse. There’s so much to say, and so much that shouldn’t be said. I don’t know where to start. I take some more deep breaths and try to clear my mind. A moment of meditation whilst he’s at the bar should help.
***
Back home three hours later, I manage a perfunctory hello to Matt, and head upstairs to run myself a bath. I need some space to think about the events of today. I set my Kindle next to the bath, in case I reach the point of wanting to escape from my thoughts. There’s a lot to take in, and I’m not sure I’m ready to handle it all yet. I trail my Echo Dot into the bathroom and tell Alexa to play Take That.
Settled in amongst the bubbles and hot water, I try to make sense of all I’ve heard. Roger is relatively easy, and I dismiss thoughts of him for the moment. He’s clearly going to be a part of my life in the future, and I think Joanna’s right about him wanting to use the agency.
Finn is the one who drags my thoughts back. I try to block the memories of him holding me: the long hug which said so many things, and yet maybe nothing at all. Okay, maybe I don’t try very hard. I’ll allow myself to dwell on it for just a moment. I shut my eyes and hold on tight for several breaths.
Right, Becky, get a grip. He’s just a friend. You’re happily married.
The problem is that it’s easier to dwell on the chemistry between me and Finn than to think about our conversation today. I don’t want to remember what happened in that warehouse, and he’d made me describe it to him in detail. I’m not ready yet. Why would he do that? He said it was to help me, but there was something in his eyes, and maybe a hardness in his tone… If I hadn’t known him so well, I’d never have spotted it, but we worked together as partners for over ten years. Something is not right, but if I try to analyse it, I’ll have to face the details of that damned awful day again. I’ve been through it once already today, and that was more than enough.
I give in to my weakness and pick up my Kindle so I can escape into someone else’s world.
Chapter Fifteen
Friday morning, I get a text from Joanna. I’ve just finished breakfast, and I take my coffee into the lounge before looking at my phone properly.
“Troy and his band are playing tonight at BOTW. We should go. Suss it all out. See if we can find Penny’s stalker.”
I take a moment to realise BOTW is Band On The Wall. Meanwhile, panic fills me at the thought of going to such a crowded place. Any kind of gig has been out of bounds for me for many months. The noise alone would totally freak me out.
“Can’t do it. You go. Fill me in tomorrow.”
“No way. You don’t get out of it this easily. Penny said there’s a separate area with a bar. They do pizza. Sit in there and eat and drink. I’ll bring people out to you to interview.”
Shit. That woman has got an argument for everything. Can I do this?
I text Alison. I’m fairly sure she’s been to Band On The Wall in the last couple of years.
“Hey Ali, got a couple of minutes to chat?”
A minute later my mobile rings.
“Hi Mum, I’m just between lectures. I’ve got five minutes. How’s Dad?”
“He’s doing fine. How are you?” I have a sip of coffee.
“All good. You called? Not like you to call on a Friday morning. What’s up?”
“Have you been to Band On The Wall recently?”
“Yeah – I went in the summer holidays. Cool vibe. Depends a bit on the bands though. Why?”
“You know I told you I’m doing this private investigator thing with Joanna?”
“Yeah. Go on.”
“We’ve got a case, and she wants me to go there to follow up on a lead.”
“What’s wrong with that? Mum, I’m going to have to go in a minute. I’m standing outside the lecture theatre, and I can see Prof coming down the corridor. Just go along, it’ll be fine. There’s this breakout area with a bar and food. Just sit there and chat to people. It’s not too loud there. Got to go. Love you.”
“Love you too.” I end the call and return to my texts. Joanna has sent me three messages in the last few minutes whilst I was talking to Alison.
“Becks?” “Becky, will you come along? Please!” “Hey, Becky, where are you? I’m freaking out here. Are you okay?”
I click on the Call button.
“Why the hell are you freaking out?” If anyone should freak out here, it’s me. Better left unsaid though.
“Thank God you’re okay. I thought I’d sent you into some crazy panic.”
“I just phoned Alison for a bit of info on Band On The Wall. She endorsed what you said about the separate area.”
“So will you come along then tonight? Are you allowed out on Friday nights?”
“We’re not religious. We like to have a Friday night dinner as a family, but it’s no big deal if I miss a week. I suppose I can come along. But I’m not going inside. Not while the band’s playing. It will be way too noisy for me.” I take a large gulp of now lukewarm coffee. “How do we get there?”
We spend the next few minutes arguing the relative merits of bus, tram and taxi, before I bravely offer to drive.
“I won’t be drinking, will I? We can park in one of the nearby streets, or I think there’s a car park not too far away.” I’m breathing fast now, trying to block out the realisation that we’ll be less than a mile from the warehouse where everything happened.
“Becky, give me five minutes, hen. I’ll call you back.”
I spend the next few minutes using the loo, then raiding the tin for chocolate digestives. I’m halfway through my third biscuit when my mobile rings.
“Hi.” I know I sound antsy, but my nerves are on the edge of a cliff now.
“Relax. It’s all sorted. I told Penny we were coming tonight. She said she’ll pay for a taxi both ways. She’s ordered an Uber for us. Picking me up first at half past seven, then I’ll come and get you. Do you want to pop a
round here after lunch and we’ll plan strategy?”
I agree and disconnect. I’m actually relieved I’ll be seeing her this afternoon. Otherwise there are far too many hours to sit and stew.
***
It’s shortly after 8pm when we arrive at the club. I’ve been close to hyperventilating in the taxi, and despite Joanna’s anxious reassurances, I feel nauseous by the time we arrive. I wipe my damp palms on a tissue from the pocket of my jeans as we leave the cab. They’re the only jeans I could find that still fit me, but they look okay with a pretty, flowery top that hides a multitude of flabby bits.
My business partner throws me a concerned look over her shoulder as she opens the door. I follow her in, curiosity temporarily overcoming my nerves.
The place has a trendy vibe, with a bar at the far end, opposite the door, and a hatch behind which cool-looking ticket sellers are seated. Tables and chairs occupy most of this area, and the glorious smell of pizza hits my nostrils on entry. Surprisingly, this settles my nausea rather than exacerbating it.
About half the tables are occupied, so I grab a free one, facing the door through to the gig area. I settle my thick coat on the chair next to me and dig in my purse for some money.
“I’ll keep the table. Do you want to grab some food and drink?” I hand the money over to Joanna.
“Sure. What are you drinking?” I settle on a white wine and ask for any veggie pizza. I’m not veggie, but have a mild aversion to meat on pizza.
While Joanna’s at the bar, a pretty girl with a camera slung around her neck emerges from the internal door. I take a few seconds to place her. She looks much more confident than at Joanna’s house.
“Becky. Thanks for coming tonight. Troy’s not on until later – about 10ish – so I don’t know if… if the person we’re expecting will turn up before then.”
“Hi Penny. How are you?”
“Okay, thanks. No spine tingles yet, so I reckon they’re not here. It always seems to be when Troy’s on, so I’m sure they’ll turn up.”
“Have a seat. Do you want a drink?” I ask, but she shakes her head.
“I prefer not to drink while I’m working. Increases the percentage of blurred photos.” She grins, and I’m surprised by the difference compared to the shy, quiet girl I met last week. “Anyway, I’d better get back in there. Other bands to photograph. See you soon.”
I wave to her and then smile at Joanna, as she unloads paper plates loaded with pizza.
“I’ll just go back for the drinks.” She gives a curious glance in the direction of the door, following Penny’s departure. “Then we’ll talk.”
A minute later, I’m sipping wine. Joanna’s seated, facing me.
“Was that Penny? I almost didn’t recognise her. She looks very different.”
“It’s just posture. She seems much more confident here. I guess she’s in her comfort zone, but if I was being stalked in a particular place, I’d be a gibbering wreck. I don’t get it.”
I look around the room. There are a few people at the bar, but most are going through now into the other area, where the first band are now in full swing. Screens overhead show the band and the audience, and the music is audible out here too, but not blaring.
“When you go in there, I think you should keep an eye on her too.”
“Obviously. I’ll go inside shortly. I want to get a kind of baseline. Do you know what I mean?”
“Of course. Compare a non-Troy band with what happens when Troy and his lot come on. That makes perfect sense. If you meet anyone interesting, send them out to me. Or monitor them and we can interview them in the interval.”
Joanna goes inside shortly afterwards, and I retreat to a chair where I can have my back to the wall. Not being able to see potential enemies behind me is a source of extreme stress. My new seat is roughly level with the old one, in that I still have an excellent view of the door through to the gig, and I now have a slightly better view of the screen showing the band and the audience.
I try to find Joanna on the screen, but the picture is hazy, and I soon give up. I settle for surveying the few people left eating pizza near me. A group of four – older adults in their forties or thereabouts – are making a lot of noise and clearly enjoying themselves. They show no desire to move, and I suspect they’re waiting for one of the later bands to come on – perhaps even Troy.
I’m more curious about a young man sitting alone near the window. He’s alternating between checking his phone and looking compulsively out into the street. He looks at his watch a few times, and appears to be getting ready to leave when a stunningly pretty girl walks in. They kiss, a long and intimate embrace. I glance away, feeling as though I’m intruding. A moment later, they head in to the main area, and I lose interest.
Time passes. I switch to drinking diet coke. I need to keep alert, and preferably awake, as it’s unlikely that we’ll be home much before midnight tonight. For someone who’s usually asleep by ten, that’s late.
Joanna comes out to get me when the first band finishes, and I cautiously follow her in to the main band area. It’s not as awful as I expected. The area near the stage is busy, but at the back, near the bar, there’s plenty of space to stand and watch without getting trampled or feeling squashed. A set of stairs up to a VIP area is blocked off, so I fold my heavy winter coat and place it on the bottom stair so I don’t have to keep carrying it. No one challenges me, and I relax a bit.
On stage, there’s minimal action, with instruments being moved. A stage hand replaces one drum kit with another and strategically arranges the microphones.
“Is Troy on next?” I ask Joanna.
“No. It’s some band I’ve never heard of. It’s interesting sussing out the place though.” She turns and raises an eyebrow as Penny approaches. “Not great for keeping low key if you want us to dig out some information for you.”
“Sor-ry,” says Penny in sarcastic tones. “I was going to introduce my colleague, Nigel. He’s a fellow-photographer for the same paper as me. Is that a problem?”
A young man at her side grins awkwardly. “Hi. Hope I’m not intruding.”
“It’s fine. Nice to meet you, Nigel.” I hold out my hand, and he shakes it in a surprisingly firm grip. I cast him a second glance. “Do you want a drink?”
“Thanks, that would be great.” He names a beer that I’ve never heard of.
“You’d better come to the bar with me. Joanna, Penny, what can I get you?” With a round of drinks orders vaguely in my head, I lead the way to the bar at the back of the main area, but Nigel puts a hand on my arm.
“You’re better off at the main bar outside. They don’t do my beer in here. It’s really limited. Come on. I’ll give you a hand, anyway.”
There’s a small queue at the main bar, and I make small talk with Penny’s colleague until we get served.
“Why don’t you take these to a table? We’ll stay out here and have a chat. I’ll just run in with the drinks for Penny and your friend. Back in a sec.”
He arouses my curiosity. Why would this young chap want to talk to an old fogey like me when he’s got Penny in tow? And a fair number of attractive young women are dotted around inside the club. I take his beer and my coke to the table I left a short while ago, and resume my seat facing the door. Old habits die hard.
A minute later, Nigel is sitting opposite me, taking a gulp of beer.
“Thanks,” he says. “So it sounds like a helluva cliché, but what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”
I laugh. “Sussing it out. My fifteen-year-old daughter wants to come here one night. I’d heard that her favourite band were on tonight, so I said I’d come along and check it out and see if it’s safe.”
“You don’t look old enough to have a fifteen-year-old daughter. How do you know Penny?”
“Friend of a friend. I believe you work together?” I’m keen to get the conversation on to a more suitable track. I’m the one that should ask the questions. Also, I’m a bit fre
aked out by the idea of this spotty youth flirting with me. He looks about the same age as Alison.
“I’ve been a photographer in this industry for about ten years,” he says, answering my unspoken question. He must be older than I thought. Still too young to be flirting with me though. “I’m Penny’s boss, but we work on similar projects. I heard she was worried about getting home safely after being here, so I came with her tonight. Her usual transport is playing up.”
“That’s nice of you. Are you into the band that’s coming on?”
“Yeah, I love music. It’s great getting to photograph the musicians. We try to get a lot of natural shots, particularly when they’re performing. Then you can portray the atmosphere to the fans that couldn’t make it this time.” He grins, enthusiasm shining from his face. “What do you do? Sorry, it’s awful. I didn’t catch your name.”
“Rebecca.” I’d already agreed with Joanna, that I would be as incognito as possible tonight. Obviously I couldn’t stop Penny calling me Becky earlier, but if people I meet now think I’m Rebecca mostly, it will reduce any chances of my past coming back to bite me. As for his first question… I really don’t want to answer that. “Hey, look. The next band’s on. Shall we go back in?”
“I’m not in a rush. Penny can sort out their photos. They’re no big deal. I’d rather wait out here chatting to you until Troy and his lot come on. So, what were you saying you do?”
Bugger! Why can’t he leave me alone? I pin on a false smile.
“Mostly just a housewife. Looking after my husband and the kids. Shopping, cooking, cleaning. Same old, same old. Have you got a family?”
“I live by myself, in a flat not too far from here. If you ever fancied getting away from the boredom of housewifery for a bit, I could show you a good time.”
“I’m too old for you.” I stand up and drain my glass. “Time to go back in. I need to keep my friend company.” I head for the door into the bar area, but a hand on my wrist stops me halfway there. I turn round. “Excuse me?”