You Think You Know Me

by Clare Chase

  She just sat there, looking at me. There was a new expression in her eyes now that I found hard to read.

  ‘What do you talk about when you go out on a first date with someone?’ I said. ‘I’ll bet you mention where you grew up, where you studied, what you do and who your friends are. It’s not exactly controversial.’

  ‘It is when you’re seeing a journalist.’ She took another sip of coffee, looking at me with watchful eyes. ‘It was a date then?’

  Had it been? Probably not so as you’d notice. Perhaps he really had just been pumping me for extra information. I had to admit that he’d seemed pretty interested in what I’d said about the old days. But then again, it was interesting. The story was tragic, the people involved well known, and he was a journalist. He’d be interested by instinct.

  Oh to hell with Radley. She wouldn’t know one way or the other anyway. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It was a date.’

  ‘I see. And are you intending to see him again?’

  ‘I haven’t decided.’

  On the way home, I came to terms with the fact that I hadn’t been properly honest with Radley. Obviously, I’d exaggerated my relationship with Darrick, but that had been a conscious decision and I was quite happy with it. I’d enjoyed winding her up.

  What was more disturbing was that, deep down, I knew I had really given away more information than was in any magazine article or biography. I was sure Darrick had read something in my tone when I’d talked about Seb. At least he didn’t have anything factual though. But the stuff about his parents wasn’t in the public domain either. Seb wouldn’t want that used. And then there were bound to be nuances and little details in what I’d prattled on about that amounted to new information.

  There had been something about Darrick; for whatever reason he’d had me just where he wanted me. And I had decided that it didn’t matter because I felt some kind of weird closeness to him; something that made me relax and told me I had nothing to fear. But then, when we’d parted, I’d been quite sure he was holding something back.

  I hoped to goodness that Radley was wrong about him.

  Chapter Ten

  After the way my meeting with Radley had gone, I felt the extra work she’d hinted at was unlikely to materialise. There wasn’t much I could do about that though. I’d gone out of my way to annoy her and, having behaved like a toddler, I would have to take the consequences.

  But not everything was going pear-shaped. Alicia had done me a really good turn by opening up. In the last half hour of the interview she’d given me all sorts of gems: how she’d secretly used a candle to melt down some chocolates she’d been given at Christmas to create new ones, and how she’d made friends with one of the cooks at her boarding school.

  She even admitted the burning envy she’d felt for one of her classmates, who was good at music and had been hot-housed at every opportunity. In the end, she’d said, she’d decided to hot-house herself if no one else would.

  It was a real story of gutsy determination leading to success against the odds. I managed to sell the article nice and quickly. In the end I offered it to The Enquirer again, and they took it for their culture section. It was good to know it was going to appear in a mainstream newspaper rather than a more specialist magazine. I was hoping it would keep me fresh in the editor’s mind too.

  In my spare time, I worked on Sally’s bag. It was still three weeks until the party she was going to, but I wanted to let her see it well in advance, in case she didn’t like it and had to search for an alternative.

  At last, just over a week later, I went down and knocked on her door, ready to hand it over.

  ‘It’s gorgeous!’ she said, when I showed her. She’d settled on a colour scheme of sea greens, blues and purples, to go with her purple dress. I’d embroidered the whole thing with a design of seaweed and tiny fish, using pearl beads for eyes. ‘Wait,’ she said, stepping towards the wardrobe. ‘You’ve got to see the whole thing together.’ She picked out her beautiful purple taffeta dress and within a moment was in the bathroom, changing.

  ‘No news I suppose?’ she shouted through the door.

  I knew she meant about Darrick of course. She’d had the full story of the lunch, wringing out every detail from me, and was keen to get another instalment. I was going to have to disappoint her. ‘None, and at this stage I’m quite sure there never will be. It’s been over a week since I saw him. He obviously isn’t going to call, so you’d better stop asking me. It’s only rubbing it in.’

  ‘Sorry.’ I could hear the sound of hair being brushed and then sprayed. The smell of Elnett crept under the door. ‘But I can’t believe it. That lunch sounded quite romantic. And the lengths he went to, to catch up with you … All that hanging around outside hotels and everything. It just doesn’t make sense.’

  Unless what Radley had said was true, of course, and he had just been using me. I’d waited anxiously after my article in The Enquirer had come out, in case there was some snide gossip piece of the sort Radley had suggested. I’d even Googled my name, just to check I didn’t appear in any text other than my own article, but so far none of that sort of fallout had come about.

  ‘Maybe I just didn’t live up to expectations,’ I said, feeling sorry for myself. ‘I should never have let him see me in broad daylight.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ she said, appearing at last, her hair piled high on her head in an Audrey Hepburn-style chignon. The dress was wonderful: knee-length, close-fitting and curvy. She looked fantastic.

  ‘What do you think?’ she said.

  ‘One of the loveliest dresses I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘Not the dress you idiot! What do you think of your bag, as part of the outfit?’

  And I had to admit, boasting apart, that it did look good. Its intricate design offset the classic simplicity of the dress perfectly, and the pearls added just the right touch of glamour to the mix.

  Sally walked over to the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door. ‘Heavenly,’ she said. She was totally unself-conscious. It made me feel slightly wistful. ‘Now,’ she went on, turning back to me again, ‘I checked out the going rate for handmade bags. Would a hundred and fifty be okay?’

  I sat there with my mouth opening and closing for around thirty seconds before I managed to say anything. ‘It’s far too much Sally.’

  ‘I wouldn’t think so,’ she said in a matter of fact way. ‘To be honest, it should be a bit more really. If you think about the materials, and how many hours you’ve slaved over it and so on. The ones I saw in a gallery on The King’s Road were two twenty, but I must admit I’m a bit short this month, so if one fifty’s really okay?’

  ‘I’ll feel guilty for the rest of the year if I let you give me that much.’

  ‘It’s either that or I’ll take the money back again and you can keep the bag.’

  I scowled at her. ‘Oh for heaven’s sake, all right then.’

  ‘Good.’ She wrote out a cheque. ‘And there’s no need to make such a fuss about it. You don’t seem to have any idea how much money people regularly spend on total crap. If you did you’d be quite cross I’m not giving you more.’

  It was another week before Darrick finally got in touch again. I’d completely given up on him, though I’d been unable to banish him from my thoughts altogether. However, when he called he behaved as though there’d been no odd gap at all.

  ‘Your friend Jez Ellis is in a film that’s just opened at The Everyman on Baker Street,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, I know. I was going to go and see it.’

  ‘Come and see it with me then. Can you do tomorrow night?’

  I paused for what I hoped struck him as a worryingly long time and then said: ‘I’m washing my hair.’

  He laughed. ‘Oh go on,’ he said. ‘You’ll enjoy it. I feel our relationship so far hasn’t conformed to the proper protocol and I want to take you out, in the evening. Seeing a film’s a good, respectable way to start again. It would set things on the right course. So, how about it?�
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  I sighed heavily. ‘I hadn’t actually expected to hear from you again.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, whilst sounding distinctly light-hearted. ‘Things have been a bit hectic.’

  I had a feeling I would never find out what “things” he was talking about. ‘Oh, okay then,’ I said. ‘What time’s the show?’

  We met outside the cinema at six-thirty so we could have a drink first.

  ‘And afterwards I’ll take you for dinner,’ Darrick said. He put a finger lightly to my lips when I opened my mouth. ‘No arguments. If I don’t, the next time I call you’ll only accuse me of being neglectful.’

  We drank dry martinis because there was a cocktail bar and, as Darrick said, it seemed a waste not to. As we sank into comfortable seats next to one of a number of low, round tables, I asked him what he’d been up to.

  ‘This and that,’ he said, raising his glass to me. ‘The trouble with travelling so much is that when I do get back to the UK there’s always a lot to sort out.’

  ‘To do with your home, and things like that?’

  ‘That kind of thing,’ he agreed, smiling.

  I felt sure he was irking me on purpose by not letting me have any details. ‘So you obviously report on a lot of people and events overseas,’ I said, thinking I must Google some of his pieces now that we were back in touch so I could sound more clued up.

  ‘I tend to work on longer-term investigative projects,’ he said, ‘rather than events.’

  ‘In the arts world?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘I see.’ I picked the green olive off the cocktail stick that was balanced precariously on my glass and ate it.

  ‘So how did you get on when you went to meet Radley?’ Darrick asked.

  I’d had the feeling he would shift the conversation to me as soon as I paused long enough to let him. All the alarm bells Radley had set off began to chime again. Was this him pumping me for more information, just as she had said?

  ‘Any sniff of future work?’ he asked.

  I smiled thinly, and hoped I looked suitably distant. ‘There was at first, but I’m afraid we had a bit of a falling out.’

  He looked surprised. ‘What about?’

  ‘You. She saw us coming out of The Old Faithful together and seemed to feel I’d been a bit disloyal, fraternising with someone who had lied to worm his way into her confidence.’

  ‘How narrow-minded.’

  I raised an eyebrow. ‘She was also none too pleased when she found out why you were really at the gallery.’

  ‘I hope you told her I was stalking someone unconnected with Seb’s place when I sneaked in.’

  ‘I don’t think she bought your story. She was fairly certain you’d tracked me down with the sole purpose of squeezing me for information so you could smear the gallery. She says the art world is full of jealous types who’ll do anything to take a cheap shot at someone as successful as Seb is. Even down to pursuing people like me.’

  ‘What a charming woman she must be.’ He took a sip of his drink. ‘I might have considered squeezing you occasionally, but information wasn’t my end goal.’

  Which I knew was pretty good soft soap, though it was rather appealing nonetheless. ‘She pointed out that I hadn’t asked you about the photograph,’ I went on relentlessly.

  He frowned. ‘What photograph?’

  I looked him straight in the eye. ‘The one you took of me at the gallery, when I was standing out on the landing.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ He did look genuinely mystified.

  ‘That makes three of us. They use CCTV at the gallery and peer at all their guests. Radley saw you take out your mobile – before I knew you were standing behind me – and hold it up to take my photo.’ I could feel myself flushing now. It did sound absolutely ridiculous. And the fact that I had believed Radley must make me sound self-obsessed: as though I thought it was totally natural that strange men in galleries might want to take my picture.

  ‘Obviously, it seemed crazy to me,’ I said hastily, ‘but she insists that’s what she saw. So if you could just explain it, then at least I can tell her what you were up to if she does ever call me back in. At the moment she clearly thinks I’m crazy for agreeing to see you.’

  ‘I can’t explain it,’ said Darrick with absolute finality. He sat back in his seat. ‘And the reason for that, is because it didn’t happen.’

  ‘I did say to her, right from the start, that she must have been mistaken. I mean, maybe you were reading a text or something.’

  He took a deep breath. ‘I never even took my mobile out of my pocket, Anna,’ he said.

  Chapter Eleven

  We were prevented from arguing the toss any further as it was time for the film to start. Sitting there with the smell of popcorn in my nostrils and Pearl and Dean blaring in my ears, the whole thing seemed surreal. It was ironic that I was there, next to him at last, his left leg within a hair’s breadth of my right, and once again a gulf had opened up between us, so that I didn’t know whether I was allowed to want him to brush against me or not.

  ‘Damn,’ I said, under my breath.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m really confused.’

  ‘You’re not the only one.’ And he moved then, turning towards me for a second. And at that moment his leg did touch mine, and I found that my brain was going to go ahead and want whatever it felt like, whether it was officially allowed to or not.

  The film was one of those coming-of-age movies, filling me with nostalgia for a time when anything had seemed possible and nothing appeared to matter very much. It always struck me as odd that those two feelings should come together. When anything seemed possible, it would be better if you were driven with a desire to get on with what you wanted to achieve.

  Come to think of it, maybe the rest of my gang had been. Jez hadn’t played the lead in the film – he was one of the friends of the main protagonist – but his part was crucial to the plot and he’d played it superbly. He’d had one or two of these key supporting roles in the last few years and I was willing to bet he’d land a title role within the next twelve months.

  ‘He was good, don’t you think?’ Darrick said as we got up from our seats.

  ‘He was, wasn’t he?’ I felt pleased that he thought so.

  We went to eat at a place called The Midnight Hour Mediterranean Bistro.

  ‘Even the name’s a mouthful,’ Darrick said, ‘which must be a good sign.’

  It was the kind of setting I liked: full of twinkling candles, sparkling glassware and crisp, white tablecloths. The walls were covered with mahogany panels and made me feel warm and cocooned. From somewhere down below us, perhaps a basement bar, I could hear someone playing a saxophone.

  ‘They don’t do macaroni cheese,’ Darrick said, handing me a menu, ‘so you’d better get thinking.’

  I searched for the least pretentious thing listed, determined not to rise to the bait, but The Midnight Hour wasn’t big on low-key stuff and anyway, that wasn’t what I felt like. I went for some glorious-sounding concoction on pasta, featuring artichoke, chorizo and chilli with a whole load of Parmesan chucked on top. Darrick ordered mussels and chips and before long the waitress brought us a bottle of white wine, glistening with condensation.

  Darrick poured me a glassful. His well-toned arm was brown next to his white shirtsleeve. ‘So all of that business with Radley Summers explains the frosty reception you gave me on the phone yesterday.’

  ‘Oh no,’ I said. ‘That was just because you hadn’t called me for two weeks.’

  He laughed. ‘Have you decided to forgive me now?’

  ‘I’m still thinking about it.’

  ‘I’ll watch my step then.’

  The place was thronging and we’d been lucky to get a table. All around us laughter rang out, and chatting voices merged, but I felt we were quite separate from the crowds. They’d given us a table in a little alcove, which was a haven, removed from the main hubbub.

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nbsp; ‘Look,’ Darrick said, ‘that Radley woman’s completely wrong but, if it makes you feel happier, we won’t talk about anything to do with Seb Rice. I want to know about you though. What did you study?’

  ‘English lit. Predictably. Then I did a photography course afterwards and got taken on as a junior reporter at the London Gazette.’

  ‘Starting out on the Gazette’s not bad.’

  ‘I got to do all the boring stuff. Council decisions – that kind of thing. But I was straight out of university.’

  ‘Were you pleased to stay on in London?’

  I nodded. ‘I’ve always liked it here. I enjoy the bustle; I find it reassuring to be surrounded by people. And it helped that several of my friends stayed on too.’

  ‘Did you move in with Terry at that stage?’

  ‘No. He’d already decamped to Hertfordshire to start his first restaurant; the rent was cheaper, so it was a safer bet than starting up here. I left the Gazette after a while.’ I hesitated. ‘I wasn’t sure I was in the right job, which is an almost constant state of affairs with me.’ I made a face. ‘I decided to try being a press officer for a company in Barnet, and it was only then that I moved to Terry’s.’

  ‘I see.’ He poured us some more wine. ‘So what about when you were still in London then?’

  ‘I went in with a girl who’d had a room across the corridor at my college. It wasn’t all that fun actually. She was one of Seb’s …’ I paused.

  ‘What?’

  I couldn’t believe I was talking about him again. But we’d all been so close, back in the day. It was hard to explain about my life without referring to his. ‘I was moving on to a topic we’d agreed to avoid.’

  ‘And are you about to tell me something you think I’ll make use of?’

  I sighed. ‘No. I suppose not.’

  He folded his arms. ‘In that case I don’t want to know anyway.’

  ‘Pig.’

  He laughed.

  ‘All I was going to say,’ I went on, ‘was that she was part of Seb’s little group of hangers-on.’