In Focus (2009)

by Jacobs, Anna

  ‘Have you worked here long?’

  ‘I’ve been with Sherbright Cleaning Services for a few years now,’ she said carefully. She never told strangers much about herself, if she could help it.

  ‘Good employer?’

  ‘Most people think so.’

  The lift stopped at the basement car park and she shivered involuntarily. Of course, he noticed.

  ‘Can you not find a job that doesn’t involve night work?’

  ‘I’m just filling in for someone who’s sick. Normally I – um, work in the office. Our cleaners always go in and out of buildings in groups at night. Company policy. What do you do for a living?’

  ‘I’m my cousin’s manager.’

  She might have asked him more about what that involved but they’d reached her car.

  She zapped the locks, watched him put her equipment into the rear and got in. ‘Thanks for coming with me to the car. I appreciate that.’

  ‘No problem. You can’t be too careful these days.’

  She saw in the rear-view mirror that he stood watching her drive away. She wondered what it was like to manage a celebrity, and what they wanted the computer program for, then yawned and dismissed Edward Newbury from her mind. She’d probably never see him again. Pity. He was rather attractive. But she wasn’t on the hunt for a man, didn’t have the time or the inclination these days.

  When she got back to her flat, Beth hesitated, then went into the third bedroom, a place she usually avoided. It’d been five years since her daughter had run away, but Beth had kept all Jo’s things – just as her mother had kept little Greg’s things, still had them tucked away somewhere.

  Seeing that picture of herself as a child had stirred up a hornet’s nest of old memories. No one had seen or heard of her little brother since the day he vanished. There had been no closure and that mattered more than people realized.

  She still had photos of Greg somewhere and could remember playing with him as a child, but he didn’t feel like part of her family any longer. He was just a legend, a ghost at every feast, especially if her mother was present, though for the past few years her mother had been a lot better, thank goodness.

  With a sigh, Beth picked up one of the last photos of her daughter, one which resembled her own teenage self on the geeks’ computer. It was ironic that Jo too had vanished. Was she destined to lose everyone she loved? Beth wondered.

  But Jo was alive, at least. She had that to comfort her, and her daughter now sent emails every month or so, always from an Internet café, never giving any clue as to where she was or what she was doing. Still alive, Mum. Or: Things going well, got a new job.

  Beth sent equally brief replies, not sure what she dared say, terrified of upsetting her daughter by asking to meet.

  Surely the messages were genuine? She had to believe that. They were painfully sparse dribbles of information but better than nothing.

  Would she ever see Jo again?

  She stared round the dusty, unused bedroom. She really ought to clear it out, refurnish it perhaps, but you couldn’t help hoping. And since no one else ever stayed here, it didn’t matter what the room was like.

  Oh, she was being silly tonight. Why revisit old pains? She had better things to do with her time. Like sleep.

  An eighteen-hour day was no good for anyone. Whatever the emergency, she wasn’t doing any extra shifts tomorrow.

  She went into her own bedroom, intending to take a shower, but was so tired she simply fell on the bed for a moment’s rest. As she reached up to release her long hair from its ponytail, she closed her eyes.

  At three o’clock in the morning she woke, shivering, switched off the light, climbed under the covers and went back to sleep again.

  In his comfortable flat in Hampstead Edward Newbury was woken in the middle of the night. He cursed the phone, letting it ring out. He needed to sleep, dammit.

  But the noise started again, almost immediately. Two rings, then it stopped. Two more rings, then it stopped again. He groaned but when it rang a third time he picked it up. This was a special signal between himself and Pete, used only when one or the other of them was in trouble.

  Or more accurately, when Pete was in trouble.

  ‘What’s the matter now?’ Edward growled.

  ‘Just had a quarrel with Fran. The bitch has locked me out and all my keys are inside the flat. Is your spare bedroom free?’

  ‘Yes. Come on over.’

  ‘I’ll get the concierge to phone for a taxi.’

  ‘Couldn’t he let you into the flat?’

  ‘I’d as soon walk through the fires of hell as face that bitch again tonight. Oh – you haven’t got company there, have you?’

  ‘No.’ Edward hadn’t had company of the female sort for a while, had been working too hard. Or perhaps he was getting more picky as he grew older. Though forty wasn’t old and he kept himself fit. But he wasn’t out to remarry and had always needed more than a willing female body to turn him on.

  ‘You’ll have to come down and pay for the taxi, Ed. I haven’t got my wallet.’

  It was the second time this month Pete had woken him. And actually, Edward didn’t blame Fran for getting angry at him. Since his TV show had started getting top ratings, his cousin had turned into a bit of a prima donna, wanting others to dance to his whims.

  Edward made his way to the kitchen for a drink of water and went to stand on the balcony. It was a mild night and at this hour the nearby buildings were mainly dark, so you could actually see the stars.

  Just over ten minutes later headlights played along the dark street below and a taxi stopped in the visitors’ parking area. He went down to pay for the ride.

  After the taxi drove off, Pete wove his way unsteadily across the car park beside him.

  Drunk again. That explained why Fran had locked him out.

  When his cousin began to talk loudly in the foyer, Edward grabbed his arm and gave it a shake. ‘Shut up, you fool. Other people are sleeping.’

  Pete laid a mocking finger on his lips and pretended to tiptoe. Once inside the flat he leaned against the wall and grinned. ‘Good old Edward. Always there to rescue me. Got any cognac to drown my sorrows with?’

  ‘No. Go to bed and sleep it off. You’ve work to do tomorrow.’

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Two o’clock in the morning and I’m sleepy, even if you aren’t.’

  ‘Y’know, you’ve turned into a party pooper lately.’

  ‘It’s called growing up. And if you want to keep earning good money, you should do less partying and more sleeping. Here.’ He pulled Pete along the corridor and opened the door of the spare bedroom. ‘Be my guest. Do you need any pyjamas?’

  Pete snickered. ‘I’m hot enough without.’ Then he frowned and peered at himself in the mirror. ‘Hmm. Perhaps you’re right. Sleep it is. I’ll need to get up at six o’clock, so I can go home and change. Wake me then, will you?’

  Edward walked across and set the bedside alarm for six, knowing he’d still have to come and drag Pete out of bed, by which time he’d be wide awake himself.

  ‘And if Fran doesn’t let me back in, I’ll break the bloody door down. That’ll teach her.’

  ‘That’d be stupid. Get the concierge to use his master key.’

  ‘It’s my door. I can do what I want with it.’

  Even before he left the room, Edward heard deep breathing. His cousin had always had the capacity to fall asleep within seconds of putting his head on the pillow. He only wished he shared the same gift. It was half an hour before the glowing numerals on the bedside clock began to blur.

  He woke to the sound of the alarm beeping in the next bedroom and went to drag his cousin out of bed then put on some coffee.

  By the time it was ready, Pete had dressed and joined him. He poured a cup of black coffee and took a long gulp, hot as it was. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Considering how drunk you were when you arrived here, you look amazingly fresh and alert.’

>   ‘Yeah. I never get that morning-after stuff.’

  He gave Pete money for the taxi and breathed a sigh of relief when he had the place to himself again. It was still too early to go into the office, so after clearing up the kitchen, he went down to the excellent basement gym that went with these prestigious apartments.

  He doubted Fran would have kept Pete locked out for more than a few minutes last night. She knew which side her bread was buttered on.

  And Pete knew that too. So what sort of statement was he making to her by spending the night elsewhere? The games those two played lately did Edward’s head in.

  He got on the treadmill and started his exercise programme. Other people were working out but to his relief no one wanted to chat.

  Two

  The following week Beth had to fill in again for the same cleaner.

  There was no one in the IT suite this time, so presumably the computer program had been fixed and they’d gone home like everyone else. She wondered what the software would be used for that was so hush-hush. Pete Newbury’s show was very popular. The problem of what they’d do with all those faces niggled away at her as she cleaned that floor of the building.

  Jo would have said, ‘Get a life, Mum.’ Her daughter had certainly gone after a life more to her taste, but it wasn’t the sort of life Beth would have wanted. She enjoyed her peace and quiet. Well, she usually enjoyed it.

  Tonight she felt restless. Tired, of course, but not ready to fall into bed yet. She switched on her computer and her heart did a flip when she saw a message from Jo. They always upset her and yet she needed to see them regularly, yearned for them.

  Things are OK, Mum. Stop worrying. Shall I come and visit you one day? Would you like that?

  Jo the Wanderer

  Tears filled Beth’s eyes. Couldn’t Jo send longer messages than this? But it was the first time her daughter had ever hinted at them seeing one another again. Scrubbing her eyes, she told herself not to be stupid. This was good news, wasn’t it? Of course Jo would come back to see her one day. She had to believe that. She sent a message straight back.

  Hi Jo

  Always lovely to hear from you. Come any time. Longing to see you again.

  Mum

  Beth wanted to write more, but couldn’t think of anything else to say. Anxiously she re-read her message. Was it all right to say ‘longing to see you’? Would that worry Jo? She had to be so careful.

  As she clicked on the send button, she suddenly realized why Jo’s messages were so short. Her daughter must also be treading warily. That was a good sign – wasn’t it?

  The rest of the emails were mainly to do with business. The only other one she really welcomed was from her friend Renée. Smiling, she opened it.

  Don’t forget you’re coming to dinner on Saturday. No excuses. Renée

  Beth had forgotten about it, because it’d been a hell of a week, but she was more than ready for a bit of socializing. Renée threw great dinner parties and knew some interesting people. And her partner Sergio was an excellent cook. Of course, there was always the risk that Renée might try to pair Beth up with some guy, which had happened a few times, but Beth was more than capable of saying no.

  She had to go into the office on Saturday morning, but spent the afternoon pampering herself. Renée wouldn’t have called a hasty manicure and hair wash ‘pampering’ but that, together with a bit of eye make-up and a dab of lipstick was as far as Beth usually went in the beauty stakes these days.

  She frowned at her reflection in the mirror when she was ready. She should do something about her hair, have it cut at least. And the dress which had been a perfect fit last year now hung loosely. She’d known she’d lost some more weight but hadn’t realized how much. Renée would tell her off for that. Her friend had marked views about what magazine pictures of scrawny girls were doing to the female body image, and how women owed it to the younger generation to stay looking like real women rather than prepubescent teenagers.

  But Beth had the opposite problem to most women she knew: she found it difficult to keep her weight up, and she’d got even thinner since Jo had left home.

  Oh, what the hell! This was what she was like – scrawny – and other people could like it or lump it. She was her own person these days, not dependent on anyone, and she intended to keep it that way.

  The dinner party was fun. Beth could feel herself relaxing, not because of the alcohol that was flowing freely, but because of the pleasant company. She enjoyed a drink, two if the wine was a good one, but that was it. She didn’t have much tolerance for alcohol and hated feeling hungover the next day.

  Renée had tried to match-make, but the guy was better than usual, not good-looking and slightly shorter than Beth, but fun to talk to. She guessed Daniel was a little younger than her, but he was old enough to be of interest. She found herself agreeing to have dinner with him the following week.

  But she didn’t let him take her home after the dinner party and would only give him her mobile number, arranging to meet him at the restaurant.

  ‘Are you always this cautious?’ he asked with a smile.

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘Should I provide references?’

  ‘How long have you known Renée?’

  ‘A few months.’

  ‘That’ll do. And it’s not you. I’m always cautious with new people, while Renée sees the best in everyone.’

  ‘And do you always see the worst, Beth?’

  She frowned, not sure what to say to that, then shrugged. ‘I’m not good at choosing men to date. I’ve had a couple of bad experiences since my husband and I divorced.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘But you don’t need to worry. It was an amicable split in the end and I won’t bore you with tales of how rotten my ex was.’

  He inclined his head. ‘Neither will I because I’ve never actually got as far as marriage.’

  She was surprised at that. Was he gay? He didn’t seem gay, just very relaxed in his skin, as Jo would have said.

  Daniel walked her out to her car without needing to be asked, which was another mark in his favour.

  By the time she got home, she was wondering if she really wanted to bother dating anyone but knew if she backed out now, Renée would kill her. Anyway, she’d probably have a pleasant evening with Daniel and it could end there if she chose, which she probably would.

  She backed into her parking bay, checked there was no one else around and hurried to the lift, relieved as always when it arrived quickly. This was supposed to be a safe area, accessible only by residents who had the remotes that controlled the wire mesh barrier gate, but you never knew who could break the code and get in.

  It irked her that she was always so nervous after dark, but she wasn’t going to any counsellor over something so minor, whatever Renée said. She was doing all right – more than all right – and didn’t intend to rock the boat. She had a good job, a nice flat and a few close friends she really cared about.

  It was enough.

  Edward took Pete along to a demonstration of the finished computer program the following week. Al and Debbie had prepared regressions of themselves to start off with, then one of Edward.

  ‘Do one of me now!’ Pete said. ‘We could start off with that on the show.’

  They watched as the photo of Pete the man was regressed into a teenager.

  ‘That’s me!’ he crowed. ‘That’s just what I was like! Go on. Make me younger.’

  They obligingly turned him into a child of about eight.

  ‘Can you turn me into a baby?’

  ‘It’s not very accurate with babies. They change too much. The lowest we can get with any accuracy is about two or three, and even at that age the success rate is markedly lower.’

  ‘Do a three-year-old, then.’

  He studied the resultant photo, head on one side. ‘That’s great! It’s actually very like me. We’ll use it on the first show to give people a taste of what your software can do.’

  Edward watched th
e two youngsters – well, they seemed young to him – nudge one another and exchange quick, delighted glances.

  ‘Do you want to see what you’ll look like when you’re older?’ Al asked.

  ‘Hell, no! I don’t even want to think about that.’ Pete glanced at his watch. ‘Got to go now. Fran will kill me if I’m late. Edward, will you see to all this?’ He waved one hand at the computer screen.

  ‘Yes.’ Naturally Pete didn’t pick up on his annoyed tone of voice. Lately his cousin only seemed to see himself – a self-image more influenced by his publicity than by reality – and he’d always been a bit lazy about details like the legalities and financial arrangements for using the program.

  To Edward’s surprise, the two developers would only agree to lease the software, not sell it to him. They were more business savvy than he’d expected, for all they looked like refugees from a Sixties hippy commune. He didn’t want to cheat them but he did want to make sure no one else in the entertainment industry could use their software while Pete wanted it, because if things went well, the new segment might have the potential to be franchised across the world, which would benefit all of them.

  It took a while to sort everything out, and of course it then had to go to the various lawyers, but he was happy with the ground rules they’d established.

  Since he’d come in Pete’s car, Edward decided to stroll back to the office to pick up his own vehicle. He’d welcome a brisk walk after a day spent mainly in meetings.

  He took a roundabout route and when he got there saw the cleaners going in. It wasn’t Sherbright Cleaning, though.

  Why did he keep thinking about the woman he’d escorted to her car? Was she any less tired this week? She must be really short of money to take on extra work in the evenings. She had the sort of face it was hard to forget – not pretty, she’d never be pretty, but strong. And she looked at you directly with those beautiful eyes, had an honest gaze, if there was such a thing. He was a sucker for eyes.

  His ex had beautiful eyes. He was still fond of her but she’d hated the long hours he worked. When they’d spent two years trying in vain for a baby, they’d found he could never get her pregnant due to a childhood illness.