by Jane Lythell
The first time we saw each other was excruciating. I did not know how to respond to his laconic greeting as a group of us were sitting down for an ideas meeting on our second day back. The other people around the table were sharing tales of their Christmases, of family rows and food catastrophes and there was lots of laughter and I couldn’t join in. All day long I was on tenterhooks that he would be aggressive or embarrassed towards me or something, but he never made any reference to my letter or to the night of the party. Slowly, gradually, it became easier to be in a room with him and after about a year I no longer felt awkward. I never forgot the incident, how could I, but I stopped thinking about it all the time. We went on working side by side as colleagues. I pulled out my mobile and texted Harriet:
I hope you got my message this morning. Look after yourself and please text me you are OK. Liz
Back at base I called the team in for our regular meeting. Ziggy had joined us, which she does once a week. She had shaved her hair very close that weekend and Simon had been teasing her about it, calling her a suede-head. It made her look more vulnerable, almost ill, and she was looking strained and anxious, I thought. I told them that Harriet was poorly and wouldn’t be in.
‘But she is coming back?’ Ziggy said.
‘Yes,’ I said, although I didn’t know if that was true. Would Harriet come back to StoryWorld?
I kept the meeting short. They got up to leave and Simon hovered by the door, holding it open for Molly and Ziggy to go out.
‘You OK, Liz?’ he asked.
Simon picks up when I’m not all right and there was no point in pretending everything was fine.
‘I had a bad night last night and I’m feeling shaky today.’
‘You were here late, weren’t you?’
‘Very late.’
‘Anything I can do to help?’
My mobile pinged and it was a text from Harriet. I clicked on it at once. All it said was: Got yr msg. I’m OK. H
I stared at the screen for a moment. Then I became aware that Simon was waiting for me to say something.
‘Will you do the recipes with Ledley? I don’t feel up to it. I think he said he wanted to do a spicy soup.’
‘Sure thing.’
I reached for a post-it note and wrote down the name of the oil which Julius had banned.
‘And check he doesn’t use this brand of cooking oil. Do it discreetly but he mustn’t use it.’
‘No problem. You should try to get away early. You look knackered,’ he said.
Chalk Farm flat, 11 p.m.
I feel so low tonight. I had a horrible row with Flo. She asked again about going to the Cat and Mouse with Paige and I said no way was she going. I said it far too emphatically. I should have been more diplomatic and given my reasons. The truth was that I hadn’t even checked the venue out; I just had the strongest feeling that I did not want her to go there with Paige. She is fourteen and has no idea how predatory some men can be.
I listened at her door and all was quiet within. We hadn’t spoken since she’d screamed at me. I went into my bedroom and called Fenton and it all came tumbling out.
‘Horrible, horrible day. I’m feeling paralysed by guilt and shame and unable to focus on anything. I have a fourteen-year-old daughter. What if a man had sexually assaulted her? I would do something then, wouldn’t I? But Harriet has made this accusation and I’ve done nothing.’
‘But there’s nothing you can do until Harriet makes a complaint,’ Fenton said.
‘I know, and I must speak to her, explain that to her.’
‘Did you see Julius today?’
‘He seemed completely normal this morning. I told him I was dealing with a staff issue and there wasn’t a flicker on his face; not a flicker.’
‘You’ve often said he’s a complete chameleon.’
‘But would he honestly assault the daughter of Edward Dodd? He’s such an operator. He knows how power works. Wouldn’t his instinct for self-preservation kick in?’
‘He nearly raped you.’
‘I was a woman without power,’ I said.
‘Oh, darling, you sound so low.’
‘I am low. I feel like I want to run away from this, from everything, really.’
‘Is everything else OK?’
‘Flo and I had a screaming match. She called me a hideous hag!’
Fenton laughed. ‘Sorry, love, but that girl of yours does have a way with words.’
I smiled in spite of myself.
‘What was the row about?’
‘I won’t let her go to a music club with this sixteen-year-old who lives over the road. I’m not keen on this girl but I didn’t handle it well.’
‘Why aren’t you keen on her?’
‘She’s very knowing and she treats Flo like she’s her little follower. And Flo is so grateful if Paige pays her any attention. Her parents are out all the time and I get the impression that she’s allowed to do pretty much what she wants.’
‘Difficult; the glamorous older girl...’
‘I wish Flo had never met her. And this thing at work, I don’t know, I just didn’t want Flo going out with her.’
‘Your Flo loves you to bits no matter what she says when she’s angry.’
‘She loves you, her aunty Fenton. Will you come and stay soon? I’m in serious need of your good sense.’
‘I can come this weekend if that suits?’
‘I’d love that.’
We agreed she would come on Friday night. I know I am leaning on Fenton too much, calling her all the time about my problems and not asking her about hers. I’m not sure I have the capacity at the moment to be needed back if she did confide her troubles. Some friend that makes me. I heard a noise coming from the garden and Mr Crooks darted through the cat flap with a clatter. It was the foxes again; they were having a fight in the garden next door and one was trying to scrabble up onto my wall. I saw the fox’s pointed face as it reached the top looking for a route to escape. It ran along the wall and disappeared into darkness. Mr Crooks wound himself around my legs and I stroked his head.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
StoryWorld TV station, London Bridge
I have rarely felt so little like coming into work. There was a feeble part of me that wanted to call in sick and lie in bed under the duvet with a good novel and read myself out of this feeling of horrible anxiety. But home is not an easy place either as there is near silence from Flo. The Cat and Mouse gig is happening tonight and she feels deeply aggrieved that Paige will be going along without her and that she will be missing the event of the year! I told Flo that Fenton was coming for the weekend. Flo loves Fenton but I got no reaction from her this morning. When Fenton comes to stay I put her in my room and I get in with Flo. When she was little she loved to share a bed with me but this time I thought I should make up a bed for myself in the sitting room.
I put in a call to Harriet first thing and there was still no pick-up from her. I asked her to call me mid-morning when I would be out of the meeting and we could talk confidentially. There was guidance I needed to share with her, I said. As I put the phone down I reminded myself that it is my duty to encourage her to go to the police and when she does all the bricks will come tumbling down. I dread what lies ahead. If Julius is accused he will lash out at me just as much as at Harriet. The phone rang and I picked it up fast thinking it would be Harriet. It was Henry, our floor manager.
‘Gerry won’t come out of his dressing room. Says he can’t go on air!’
‘What?’
‘He’s locked the door and I think he means it.’
‘I’m on my way.’
I rushed down the stairs and along the corridor and stood outside the dressing room that Gerry uses. I tapped on the door.
‘Let me in, Gerry; it’s Liz.’
There was no answer but I could hear movement from within.
‘Come on, love, let me in.’
I heard him moving behind the door, a pause, and then he unlocked the
door and stood there facing me. He was crying hopelessly.
‘Anwar’s left me.’
I took him into my arms and hugged him.
‘I can’t go in front of the camera. I can’t do it.’
He had been crying for a while. His eyes were bloodshot and his nose and lips were red and swollen. I gave him another squeeze and stood back.
‘It will all be over in fifteen minutes and then you and I are going to go out for a walk and get a coffee and you can tell me all about it.’
‘I can’t, Liz. I hoped I could, but not today. I just can’t.’
‘Yes you can because you know how much your audience loves you.’
I rubbed my hands up and down his arms and nodded encouragingly. He gulped and twisted his hands together.
‘But I look a fright.’
‘We’ll get Ellen in here super quick and say you have a bad cold, OK?’
Ellen had patched him up as best she could with concealer but Gerry still looked puffy around the face as he sat down on the sofa next to Fizzy. The showman in him kicked in as soon as they came out of the ad break.
‘Got the most frightful cold, darling, but didn’t want our viewers to miss my predictions for next week,’ he said.
‘You’re a star, Gerry. Over to you,’ Fizzy said.
Gerry launched into his forecast. I watched him for three minutes then slipped out of the gallery and hurried upstairs to Julius’s office. He was sitting on his sofa watching the show on the large TV mounted on the wall. Most of his office is high-tech with its ergonomic desk and designer German desk lamp but his chair is an aged leather Baedekar which he’s had for years. None of our offices come anywhere near to Julius’s. He was scribbling notes on his pad as I walked in and I steeled myself to speak to him.
‘I’m going to have to miss the morning meeting. Do you want me to send Simon along to cover?’
‘Why?’
‘Gerry’s had some bad news and I’ve promised to spend time with him, as soon as the show is over.’
‘What bad news?’
‘Personal stuff. I need to get back to the gallery now. OK?’
He was looking at me curiously and I was finding it hard to return his gaze. I looked at my fingernails instead.
‘You know it’s my job to look after the presenters, to make them feel cherished,’ I said.
‘And what about you?’
‘What about me?’
‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes. Why do you ask?’
‘You’ve seemed on edge all week,’ he said.
‘It’s been one hell of a week.’
‘OK. Get Simon to cover the meeting.’
*
Gerry and I walked along by the river. He had put on a pair of sunglasses and as he talked tears continued to slip down his cheeks.
‘We’ve been fighting for months, over the money thing, you know. But this time it’s different. I’m sure he’s met another man.’
He stopped walking and his shoulders shuddered as he was gripped by a deeper bout of crying.
‘Poor love. It’s so painful.’
‘Don’t know how I’m going to go on without him.’
He blew his nose on a large cotton handkerchief. We walked on. This whole area of the riverside has been transformed over the years I’ve been working at StoryWorld. There used to be stretches that were near derelict. Now trendy cafés and galleries and gift shops compete for attention. I suggested a coffee shop I knew that was tucked away from the riverfront and we settled ourselves into a corner.
‘And my finances are blown, you know. He cost me so much.’
‘That couldn’t go on, could it?’ I said.
‘No, it could not. He’s a taker, through and through.’
His despair was turning to anger which I thought was probably a good thing. He picked up his large cup of cappuccino and took a gulp.
‘He was totally self-obsessed, like all actors are. Never asked me about how I was feeling,’ he said.
‘Do you have any family close by? Somewhere you can go this weekend?’
‘My friend Dennis is in town. We were going to a musical with him tonight.’
‘That’s good. How do you know Dennis?’
‘We were at school together; he’s my oldest friend. He lives in Bath and comes up several times a year.’
The first few days after a split are the worst, but I remembered how weekends go on being difficult when you are newly on your own.
‘Is he staying at yours?’
‘He was going back on a late train but I could ask him to stay, I suppose. He doesn’t know about Anwar yet.’
His voice wobbled.
‘Do that. When I split up with Ben I found having a close friend around helped so much,’ I said, thinking of Fenton.
*
When I got back to the station Ziggy was sitting on her own. I asked her if there had been any calls for me and she said Betty had called. She was looking pinched and worried, as she has for the last couple of days, and I asked her if everything was all right. She said it was but her face and her body language said the opposite. Something is troubling her and I sat down in Harriet’s seat.
‘You know I haven’t forgotten about finding you a course to go on. I’ve sent for details for one that looks good.’
‘Thanks.’
‘And we will pay the course fees, you know.’
‘That’s cool. Thank you.’
She didn’t look much happier.
‘Is Harry any better?’ she asked.
‘She’s still poorly,’ I said.
‘But she is coming back?’
‘Oh yes.’
I went into my room. I wish she would confide in me what it is that is troubling her. It may have nothing to do with work, of course, but she has asked about Harriet twice.
It was about an hour later when Fizzy appeared at my office holding a posy of pale pink roses which she handed to me. We have fresh flowers in the studio every day. It is one of the things that Fizzy insists on. Some studios opt for fake flowers which can look OK on camera but Fizzy always says they look cheap and nasty. A fresh posy is delivered to the station every morning at six-thirty and is placed in a vase on the table in front of the studio sofa. Most days Fizzy takes the posy home with her, though sometimes she gives it to Ellen or Martine. Today I was the recipient.
‘They’re lovely. Thanks.’
Fizzy was wearing a sky blue wrap-over dress that fitted snugly over her breasts and hips and she perched herself as she always did on the arm of my sofa. It’s as if she doesn’t have the time to sit down. She often has this weirdly manic quality to her; either that or the times when she does a languorous slump. There is no in-between state with Fizzy.
‘Is Gerry OK?’ she asked.
‘He’s in a state. He split up with his partner last night.’
‘I thought it might be something like that. He did look awful this morning, poor old thing.’
‘Less of the poor old thing, if you don’t mind, he’s not much older than me.’
She smiled at that.
‘We all need to rally round and support him through this break-up,’ I said.
‘Of course. You know I’m awfully fond of him.’
‘Will you suggest going for lunch or dinner next week? I know that would mean a lot to him.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
She did a mock salute.
‘And where’s Harriet? I haven’t seen her around for a couple of days.’
I wondered if that was the reason she had come to see me.
‘She’s poorly and I told her to stay home till she feels better.’
Fizzy stood up and smoothed her dress over her stomach and hips. I sensed she wanted to say more to me so I smiled at her and said: ‘What have you got planned this weekend?’
‘Oh, nothing special.’
There was a droop to her lips as she said this. Of course Bob would not be available to play at the weekends.
‘Shall we do a lunch next week?’ she said.
‘I’d like that.’
‘Friday?’
‘Perfect.’
‘I’ll take you to my club,’ she said.
*
It was late afternoon when Harriet finally called me. She spoke quietly and she sounded subdued.
‘I’m so glad you called. How are you?’
‘I’ve been sleeping a lot since, you know...’
I went through the details I had learned over the last two days; that she needed to report the assault to the police, to the specialist unit at the Met. I told her about the Havens too; how she would get confidential support from them.
‘Until you make a formal complaint to the police I can do nothing here,’ I said.
She made no comment or even a sound as I talked and at one point I asked her if she was still there.
‘Yes, I’m listening,’ she said.
There was still that strange detached tone of voice from her. I had expected tears or anger, not this quietness which unnerved me.
‘I hope that’s all clear, Harriet.’
‘Yes, very clear, thank you.’
‘You’ll think about this.’
‘I’m not going to report him to the police.’
She had said it quietly but firmly.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘He’s such a liar and the woman always gets the blame in these cases. I can’t face it.’
‘Please think about this. There’s a dedicated team at the Met now. Take down the website and check it out.’
I spelled out the links to Sapphire and the Havens but I sensed Harriet was only noting them down because I had asked her to.
‘I can’t talk any more. My father is due home any minute.’
‘Have you told your parents?’
‘No way. I have to go now.’
‘OK. Take care of yourself and please keep in touch. Feel free to call me at any time at work or at home.’
I gave her my home number again and I could hear a man speaking to her. I assumed it was her father. She clicked off the connection without saying goodbye. The whole conversation had been out of kilter and I wondered if she had taken a tranquilliser or a sleeping tablet.
*