by Clare Chase
‘So what have you been up to, other than the work you’ve been doing for us?’ he asked.
‘Other profiles, some copywriting, you know, the usual mix.’
‘And in your free time? Been enjoying the London nightlife?’
I wondered if he was probing, having spoken to Radley. ‘Not on a very regular basis,’ I said, ‘but I did see Jez’s new film last night.’
He sat back in his seat and I thought how fit he still looked, in spite of all the cocktail parties and vol-au-vents. ‘I must make time to go and see that. It’s great that he’s doing so well.’
In the old days he would have found missing something of Jez’s unthinkable. ‘I heard he tried to catch up with you when he was last in London,’ I couldn’t help saying. ‘I think you were busy though.’
He sighed. ‘I haven’t been all that good to the old gang, have I? Not really a loyal member.’
I felt guilty. ‘It was very kind of you to put the Shakespeare work my way,’ I said. ‘I know you think about us all.’
‘Providing work contacts isn’t quite the same thing as being a good friend though, is it?’
I looked down at the table. It was only at that point I realised how much he had hurt my feelings by keeping away for so long. The past was the past, but we had been through some fairly intense times together: shared experiences that we could have tackled jointly. But I was being unfair. He was the one who’d had to deal with the trauma.
‘I know you find it hard to be with us,’ I said.
He put a hand out to touch mine. ‘In the immediate aftermath it was mainly you that got me through it. I didn’t treat you fairly then, Anna.’
‘Under the circumstances …’
‘The circumstances don’t excuse the way I behaved.’ He leant forward and the waiter, who had been about to hand over our wine, stepped back. ‘I wanted to say I’m sorry.’
‘You don’t have to apologise for anything.’
‘Yes I do. I acted like an idiot all those years ago and there’s a whole list of things I regret doing ever since. It all came to a head when I had a talk with Radley a couple of days ago. She was filling me in on your last meeting. I would have asked about it sooner, only things have been frantic. She was pissed off because you’d been out to lunch with that man who said he was Max Conran.’
I looked up. ‘I know,’ I said. ‘She left me in no doubt whatsoever about how cross she was.’ I couldn’t keep the edge out of my voice.
He gave me a rueful look. ‘What cut me to the quick was that she said she’d had a go at you for disloyalty. She’d wanted to know why you hadn’t thought to give me a call, once you found out more about our mystery guest.’
‘That’s right,’ I said, remembering.
‘And you told her, quite rightly, that we were barely in touch with each other any more. Why should you think of calling me?’
‘I should have thought of it really,’ I said, though I wasn’t entirely sure I meant it.
‘I can quite see why you didn’t. It made me realise I need to put the past behind me. I don’t want to lose you too, Anna.’
There was a momentary pause. ‘Do you think we should let the waiter give us our wine?’ I whispered. The tension broke: he laughed suddenly and sat back in his chair.
Things got a bit more relaxed when our food turned up. I still couldn’t tell what mine was, but it tasted pretty good.
‘So how has life been with you?’ I asked.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Everything’s been going brilliantly at the gallery. But the man you attracted at the private view is a bit of a worry. Radley tells me he’s a journalist who’d done something to offend one of my friends. Is that right?’
‘So I gather.’
‘Did he ever explain what he was up to when he took your photo that evening? I know Radley was sounding off, but I think she was genuinely concerned for you.’
‘He denies ever having taken his mobile out of his pocket,’ I said.
Seb frowned. ‘That’s worrying. You know, I still don’t like the sound of him. And what was his real name again?’ He paused. ‘Radley said something like Derek?’
‘Darrick,’ I said. ‘Darrick Farron.’
‘And that’s another reason I needed to see you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He said he’d come in under a false name so I wouldn’t throw him out?’
‘That’s what it amounted to.’
‘Thing is, when I think through all the dust-ups I’ve had in the past, I can’t imagine what incident he’s referring to.’ He held up a hand to stop what I was going to say. ‘And what’s more to the point, I’ve quite definitely never had a run-in with anyone called Darrick Farron.’
Chapter Fourteen
A frown traced its way across Seb’s face. ‘Darrick’s not a name I’d forget. He explicitly said he was a journalist?’
‘Yes,’ I said. I felt as though he was treating me like a child, but then I pulled up short and thought again.
What had he actually said? I was pretty sure he’d mentioned reporting on things and ongoing investigations, and said he was an art specialist. Had I just assumed the rest? I’d certainly thought that had been what he’d meant. And Darrick must have known that.
When I looked up I realised Seb was registering my uncertainty.
‘So you have seen him again?’ he asked. ‘I presumed you must have, if you’d asked about the photograph.’
I felt it was none of his business, which made me pause for long enough to confirm his suspicions.
‘I’m not having a go at you,’ he said, running his finger round the rim of his wine glass. He looked up at me. ‘I know you’re a grown-up, and Radley’s already had her two pence worth, which was wrong of her. But in spite of the way I’ve been recently, I do care about you; I just want you to look out for yourself, that’s all. There still seems to be a chunk of Darrick Farron’s story that doesn’t fit.’
The waiter brought the pudding I’d ordered and I sat there, pie-eyed with Chateauneuf-du-Pape, coming to the grim realisation that I was actually too full to eat the meticulously presented helping of champagne cheesecake with its raspberry and elderflower garnish. Wine at lunchtime was also awful, I concluded. It made me feel all sleepy and stupid and was the one seemingly constant theme of London life that I could do without.
Talking about Darrick had given me indigestion anyway. It seemed I was always getting upset or disturbed by him, either in an animalistic way by the sheer nearness of his physical presence, or else at a distance, as I found out yet another discomforting thing about him.
The silence between us was broken by the sound of a text coming in on Seb’s phone. He reached into his jacket pocket, drew his mobile out slowly and smiled as he read the message.
‘Radley,’ he said. ‘She knows me too well.’
‘Is she wondering where you are when there’s work to be done?’
‘Not quite.’ He put the mobile away and smiled at me, looking, I thought, slightly guilty. ‘I don’t want you to think I didn’t mean it when I said I wanted us to be friends again,’ he said. ‘I mean proper, outside work, friends.’
‘I sense a “but” coming …’
‘But, well, I did have a business proposition to put to you as well.’
I raised my eyes to heaven. ‘I might have known it would take something like that to draw you out here.’
‘Not true and unfair.’
‘But to come to the point …’
‘To come to the point, I was so pleased with the work you did on Zachariah that I wondered if we could persuade you to do a bit more for us.’
‘Radley mentioned something …’
‘Oh, she was just talking about the odd freelance bits and pieces,’ he said. ‘I was thinking of something rather more permanent.’
I looked at him, wondering what was coming next, and if it really would be much less complicated if I never had to hear it.
‘I’ve
been on the lookout for a director of communications for a while now.’
‘But surely you’ve already got someone dealing with all your marketing and PR.’
He nodded. ‘Sure, all the usual types of things: placing ads, organising the events and all of that but, up until now, Radley’s been doing the lion’s share of the more strategic stuff. She’s overworked and also, don’t tell her I said so, but it’s not really her field.’
He grinned. I didn’t.
‘And how would she feel about having someone else brought in to take over those jobs?’ My legs felt slightly wobbly at the mere thought of her reaction.
‘I’ve decided to promote her to director of exhibitions, so that ought to shut her up.’
‘Seb!’ Now I couldn’t help laughing. ‘You are awful.’
‘But would you consider working for me, that’s the point, awful though I am?’
I could feel myself being silent for a long time.
‘You don’t really want that pudding, do you?’ he said, and I shook my head, wincing at the thought of how much it probably cost. Not that Seb seemed bothered.
‘Maybe I could just have a coffee to knit myself together again.’
He signalled to the waiter. ‘Could my friend just have an espresso instead?’ he asked, and the waiter quietly took my plate away.
Seb looked at me and raised an eyebrow. ‘You don’t seem very keen on my offer.’
‘It’s just a bit of a shock, that’s all.’
‘I was hoping to achieve “nice surprise” rather than “shock”.’ He divided the last of the wine between us and sat back in his chair.
I managed to summon up a smile. ‘It’s a lovely surprise of course. It’s just that I’ve been trying to make a go of it as a freelancer and, to be honest, I’m still not sure it’s going to work, but if I bottle out now and become employed again, I suppose I’ll never know.’
He was quiet for a moment. ‘Well, I don’t want to dash your dreams,’ he said, without any hint of rancour. ‘Look, I tell you what. How about I offer you the directorship with two safeguards thrown in?’
‘What have you got in mind?’
‘Well, first, it can be a short-term contract. You could try it out for, four months say, and then we can each agree to renew if we think it’s working.’
That already sounded quite a lot less threatening, even though I knew it was only psychological. ‘And what was your other suggestion?’
‘That if you get wind of a good interview opportunity, you can take unpaid leave to follow it up and work on it as a freelance. So long as it doesn’t interfere unduly with gallery business then I’m sure we can be fairly flexible.’
‘You’re being very indulgent, Seb.’
He held my hand again, and just for a second, it felt like it had years ago, and without the emotional pressure that there had been then too. ‘The question is, is it working?’
I was worried that it might be. ‘Can I think about it?’ I said. ‘Just for a day or two?’
He gave my hand a momentary squeeze. ‘Of course you can,’ he said. ‘Just give me a call. If you go for it though, I’d love it if you could start straight away. We’ve got a whole load of stuff coming up, so time’s rather of the essence.’
Neither Alicia nor Sally were there when I got home. Sally would still be on foot duty of course, and Alicia had gone off to some very posh afternoon tea function where she’d been specifically asked to provide cucumber sandwiches and a Victoria sponge. (‘It’s hardly a challenge,’ she had said, with a heavy sigh, ‘but at least I can show them how it’s meant to be done.’)
I knew Alicia was supposed to be going out for dinner afterwards with an old friend, and Sally was in the habit of indulging in after work drinks with her mates. The result was, I had the strong urge to tell someone about what had happened, but there was no one to tell it to.
The job offer and the fresh news on Darrick fought for space in my head. Eventually, I tried Terry. It was too unfair really; he was always the one I turned to at tricky moments, even though I was supposed to be letting him get on with his own life.
Luckily for him, his phone was switched to voicemail. I thought for a moment but decided against leaving a message. Knowing him he’d call back as soon as he could, even if it was a bad moment, and that wasn’t what I wanted. Seb had said I could have a day or two’s grace, and the weekend was coming up. I’d sit it out, mull it over and come to a decision.
So with that shelved, the matter of Darrick came to the fore. It was time to find out just what was really going on. Of course, I could call him; I did have his number. However, I certainly didn’t want to talk to him about the job offer at the gallery. Whenever he talked about Seb his tone of dislike was unmistakable, however hard I fought to ignore it.
And in any case, if I did call him he’d probably just lie to me again. Instead, I got out my laptop. It was time to find out for myself.
Darrick certainly wasn’t a journalist. That much was quite clear from my search.
A friend of mine once said that if you didn’t show up on Google you were no one. And by that definition, that’s exactly who Darrick was. I didn’t get a single hit.
Chapter Fifteen
Things went to the opposite extreme the following morning. Instead of having no one to go to for advice, I was suddenly presented with two people who were as keen as anything to put forward their opinions. Sally seemed to spot I’d got something on my mind the moment I went into the kitchen.
‘You look a bit rough,’ she said, putting down her coffee mug. ‘No offence. Bad night?’
I nodded. I’d spent the whole time tossing and turning in my bed, trying to relax enough to drop off.
‘Things on your mind?’
I nodded again.
‘You’re not very chatty this morning. You might feel better if you told me all about it.’
‘Possibly.’
‘I’d feel better anyway. I’m curious now. Besides,’ she looked at her watch, ‘it’s that party tonight. I swapped my shift today so that I’d have time to get ready, but I don’t actually need all day. I can give you several hours of my undivided attention.’ She smiled.
‘Mmm,’ I said. ‘Very kind.’
And it was at that moment that Alicia put her head round the door. She must have been lying in wait. ‘Trouble?’
Yes, I thought, it’s just arrived. ‘Not exactly. I’m in an unexpected situation and I’m not sure how to resolve it, that’s all.’ Why had I said that? Alicia would never leave me alone now. She considered unresolved situations very unsatisfactory. She would see it as her duty to get me sorted out and wouldn’t let up until I’d told her everything.
I scraped back my chair and stood up. ‘D’you know, I think some fresh air might be good? Clear my head. Maybe I’ll just walk up to the Heath or something.’
‘But what about breakfast?’ said Alicia, seizing on practicalities. ‘You won’t be able to think clearly on an empty stomach.’ To be fair, food was her specialist subject.
‘Oh don’t worry about that. I’ll just stop by at Café Rouge or somewhere and grab a coffee.’
Alicia looked at me severely.
‘And a croissant,’ I added.
‘Oh, good idea,’ said Sally. ‘I haven’t been to Café Rouge for ages and it will set me up for the day. I’m right with you about a decent breakfast, Alicia.’
‘Oh well if you’re both going,’ Alicia said, ‘then I’ll join you.’
Although I had wanted to tell someone all about it, this wasn’t what I’d had in mind. Sally was one thing, but Sally plus Alicia was quite another. The fine drizzle in the air didn’t enhance my mood; it was a bit like walking through a cloud. I stomped crossly along Flask Walk, a few paces ahead of my so-called house “mates”. Alicia strode after me and Sally trotted along behind. Fat chance of having a quiet think now.
‘Breakfast first then?’ Sally said.
‘Why don’t you two go for breakfast,’
I said ungraciously, ‘and I’ll have mine later. I need to have a think.’
Sally giggled and herded me under the awnings of Café Rouge. ‘Remember the empty stomach thing. Anyway, I can guarantee you’ll feel better once you’ve got it all off your chest.’
Inside it was warm, and of course dry, which did make me feel – grudgingly – that coming straight in instead of going onto the Heath had its advantages. And the smell of warm bread was making my stomach rumble. The cafe was quite crowded, but we managed to find a table in a corner and I sat there, feeling I was probably steaming slightly.
‘I’m tempted by this basket thing where you get a bit of almost everything,’ Sally said.
Alicia gave her a repressive look. I knew she regarded choosing food based purely on quantity as very low indeed.
‘That does sound good,’ I said, snapping out of my crossness for a moment when presented with the chance of annoying her. ‘Slight shame about the lack of marmalade, obviously, but maybe having a cappuccino alongside would make up for that.’ I saw Alicia’s frown deepen. She ordered a warm French baguette with a small pot of posh jam and a black filter coffee.
‘So what’s going on?’ Sally said, whilst we waited for our order.
I looked at them. I wasn’t going to say anything about Darrick, but I knew I’d have to give them something. They wouldn’t leave me alone all day otherwise. ‘I’ve been offered a job,’ I said.
They both looked at me and then at each other.
‘That’s normally a good thing, isn’t it?’ Sally said.
‘Not when you’re building up a very promising career as a freelance journalist it isn’t,’ said Alicia, keen to show that she had seen the point. I was a bit surprised by her reaction though. I’d never got the impression she thought my career was remotely promising.
‘Oh …’ said Sally. ‘I see. I hadn’t thought of that.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Though I suppose you could still carry on writing in your spare time, couldn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’d been wondering if that was the way forward.’
Alicia shook her head. ‘If you want to make a success of the freelancing, you have to show some commitment, Anna. You can’t just give the matter your fleeting attention when some opportunity comes your way.’ She leant back to let the waiter put down her coffee. ‘Thank you.’ She turned back to me. ‘Although I have to say that’s exactly the approach you seem to have taken so far.’