by Nell Dixon
“You don’t know his surname?” Tess asked.
I shook my head.
“Pity.”
She asked a few more questions, and after she’d declined a cup of tea, Ben saw her out.
“Have you spoken to your insurers?” I asked when he came back in.
“Yep, first thing this morning.” He stood, his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and I realised he wanted me to leave.
“I’m sorry about your car, but it could just have been a random vandalism thing, you know.” I scrambled up from the sofa.
“Maybe.”
Clearly he didn’t think it was. He thought it was connected to me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The rest of my weekend was a washout. Shelly’s mum kept her busy and our night out never materialised. Instead of a sexy Saturday and Sunday with Ben I ended up with frozen pizza for one from Mr Hassan’s shop and a marathon viewing of my boxed set of Friends DVD’s. Which helped my mood but not my libido.
Merv was in a suspiciously good mood when I arrived at the radio station on Monday morning. He didn’t even tell me off for being ten minutes late.
“What’s happened to him?” I asked Tracey as I shuffled through to my desk.
“I’m not sure.” She shook her head as Merv strutted down the corridor humming tunelessly as he walked.
“It’s not natural.”
Tracey snorted. “Too right it’s not. Get ready, you can bet we’ll find out what he’s planning soon enough.”
My in-tray was full of the usual crap from Steph, plus the info on the circus school. I’d been trying not to think about circus school. Everything about it was wrong; from high wire walking to clowns, and I doubted I’d be much good at juggling. One of my nicknames during my brief job on the deli counter at the supermarket had been 'Butterfingers'. I pushed the lurid coloured circus pamphlet to the bottom of the pile.
Steph’s show was about to come off air by the time I’d set up some interviews and ploughed through all the rubbish she’d dumped in my tray. I wandered out into the reception area to grab a coffee from the vending machine and walked straight into Ben.
“Morning.”
“What brings you here?” If I sounded abrupt it was because I was so surprised to see him. Especially as he had his photography gear with him, so it didn’t look as if he had stopped by on a social call.
His forehead creased in a slight frown. “My editor wanted me to capture the good news of course.”
The twitch at the corner of his mouth suggested he was barely suppressing a smile.
“What good news?” This had to be connected to Merv’s strange behaviour.
Before he could reply Merv bustled into reception accompanied by a very smug looking Steph and several of the technical staff. I couldn’t help noticing she had her full make-up on and a form pink fitted top that showed off her cleavage.
“Ah, everyone’s here, marvellous.” He beamed around at our bewildered faces and I realised he had a bottle of champagne in his hand. Rather like Merv himself it was one of those bottles that looked flashy but was actually cheap. “Ben, I think this would be better outside?”
Tracey raised her eyebrows in a silent question. I shook my head. I was as baffled as she was. Merv led the way outside accompanied by Steph. The rest of us trailed along behind them. Merv arranged himself and Steph under the Live it Up sign on the wall. We all stood in a semi-circle watching him and speculating in subdued mumbles as to the cause of the impromptu photo call.
“Friends and colleagues, I’m delighted to announce my engagement to Stephanie.” He took hold of Steph’s hand and sunlight bounced off the enormous rock on her engagement finger.
“Blooming heck!” Tracey breathed in my ear. “Do you think it’s real or did he get it off one of those TV auction sites?”
Luckily her comment was drowned out by the muted congratulations of our fellow workers. Merv cracked open the champagne and Tracey scurried back into the building to retrieve the paper cups she kept in a cupboard under the front desk. Cups duly found and part filled with fizz we formed a semi-circle around Merv and Steph whilst Ben took some shots for the paper and the Live it Up website.
Steph smirked and simpered next to Merv while we all tried to look thrilled. A dozen or so shots later Ben declared himself satisfied with the results. We were then allowed to drink our luke-warm fizz before returning to our posts.
“Steph didn’t drink her champagne,” Tracey whispered.
“I’m not surprised, it’s bloody awful.” I tipped the dregs of my cup onto a nearby rose bush and hoped it wouldn’t die.
“No! Don’t you get it? That’s what this is all about.” She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice.
“What?” She’d lost me.
“It’s obvious. There’s a little Merv on the way, you mark my words.”
I stared at her, aghast. Now it wasn’t just the cheap plonk that made me feel nauseous.
“You’re kidding me.”
She shook her head. “The last week she’s come in every morning looking green around the gills and, let’s face it, Merv is hardly Mr Commitment.”
I looked back to where Steph was still proudly flashing her ring to one of the producers. There was no sign of a baby bump yet. “You could be right.”
Ben caught us up. “Nothing says romance like cheap champagne and a photo call for the press.”
“Tracey thinks Steph is pregnant.”
Ben glanced round to look at Steph. “Hmm, hard to tell.”
“At least Merv didn’t make us all dress up in those wretched yellow sweatshirts and caps.” Tracey mused.
“Only because he didn’t think of it.” I tried to imagine Merv and Steph as a married couple with a mini Merv in a pram. All three of them in matching Live it Up yellow tops and sun caps.
Ben grinned and I suspected he had guessed my thoughts.
“No one else could pull off that yellow top the way you did, Chloe.”
Tracey converted her giggle to a cough when she caught my eye. She mumbled something about being needed inside and scurried back to her post behind the reception desk.
“Did you hear anything else about your car?”
Ben and I paused in the sunshine.
“The insurance are sorting out a loan car while mine goes to the body shop. Nothing from the police.”
“I didn’t see you at the weekend.” Me and my big mouth, now he would think I monitored his movements or something.
“I took Tash with me to visit the parents.”
I guess that would explain why it had been so quiet upstairs. Steph and Merv were coming towards us and I didn’t want to get caught up with them. “I’d better get back to work.”
“Have you heard from your mum since she went back to Scotland?”
That would be a big fat 'no'. I shook my head. “I expect she’s busy with her job and her wedding plans.” I swallowed the hurt that rose in my throat. My mother hadn’t even kept her promise to let me know that she’d arrived home safely.
“If you’re not doing anything tonight you’re welcome to join me for supper. I make a mean spag bog.” He fiddled with his camera bag as he made the suggestion.
“What about Tash?” My pulse skipped with excitement despite my reservations over how our plans had gone astray after the nightclub.
“She’s staying with Mum and Dad for a couple of days, to see how it goes.” He glanced up at me, his gaze locking into mine so my breath hitched in my throat.
“Supper sounds lovely, what time do you want me?” Oh hell, that hadn’t come out right at all.
His mouth relaxed into a smile and the wicked glint appeared in his eyes. “Sevenish?”
Merv and Steph were almost level with us as Ben dipped his head to murmur, “And I always want you,” in my ear as he dropped a kiss on my hot cheek.
He strode away towards the car park before I could recover my wits enough to reply.
“Why Chloe, y
ou’re looking rather red, you really shouldn’t stay out in the sun with your complexion.” Steph clung to Merv’s arm.
“Do stop messing about, Lark, haven’t you got work to do?” Merv frowned. Now the photo call was over, his good mood had vanished as fast as the bubbles in his cheap plonk.
“On my way. Oh, have you set a date for the wedding yet?” I couldn’t resist the question. Part of me was still pondering Tracey’s pregnancy theory, the other part of me wondered if the engagement was a publicity stunt.
“Nothing definite, but we’re quite spontaneous people so I expect Merv will arrange something romantic.” Steph’s fingers tightened on his arm.
“Quite.” Merv agreed with his fiancée.
I hurried back inside and texted Shelly the latest goss, plus a plea to borrow her blue top for my supper date with Ben. Shelly agreed with Tracey’s theory when I stopped by her house on my way back from work.
“It would be so typical of Steph. Do you think they’ll head for Vegas or somewhere like that for a wedding?” Shelly asked.
I hadn’t given it any thought. “Dunno.”
“Then Merv could get away without having to invite you all and save a ton of money.” She carefully folded the top she had promised to lend me. “Don’t get any red wine or spag bol sauce on this.”
“I’ll be careful.” I thought about Merv’s wedding. “Steph would want a big party though. She’d have to get a new frock and things to lord it over us mere underlings.”
“Yeah, big fat gypsy weddings would have nothing on her, and Merv would expect wedding presents.” Shelly added and we both burst out laughing.
I was still in a good mood when I arrived back at the flat to get ready for my date. Conscious of the time, I scooted into the hall almost missing the pile of post on my doormat. There were two bills, a small envelope with a Scottish postmark and another envelope with my name on the front.
I opened the one from my mother first. It had to be from her. Sure enough it was a ‘save the date’ card, informing me that the wedding had been booked for the first of September. I carried it into the kitchen and attached to the fridge with the ‘I heart Scotland’ note holder my mother had placed there on her last visit.
My heart sank as I studied the mystery envelope. I didn’t recognise the writing and I had a creepy feeling that it could be from my mystery admirer. Sure enough as I opened it, tiny pieces of red, glittery heart-shaped confetti spilled out all over my kitchen floor.
Muttering rude words under my breath I eased a small piece of pink card from the envelope.
“Darling Chloe, please be true, and don’t break my heart in two. One day soon our hearts will entwine and I will make you mine.”
More dodgy poetry and still no signature. I flipped the card over to see if there was anything on the other side but found nothing. Now what was I supposed to do? If I mentioned it to Ben he’d insist on handing it to the police and my supper date would turn into an argument. But if I didn’t do anything about it then what?
I scooped up as much of the party confetti as I could and dumped it in the bin. It was already six thirty and I wasn’t showered, changed or anything. Ignoring the card I fled down the hall to my bathroom. Right now I needed to focus on my hot date with Ben.
For the next thirty minutes I ran around my flat like someone demented, hunting out shoes, underwear and debating the merits of my one and only skirt versus my best jeans. I’d just finished straightening my hair when the phone rang. I almost didn’t answer as it was seven fifteen and I thought that was a good sevenish time to knock on Ben’s door.
“Hello, is that Chloe Lark?” I didn’t recognise the female voice.
“Um, this is Chloe.” I hoped it wasn’t someone trying to sell me something. I always feel bad when I say no, even though I don’t want to subscribe to their charity, answer their survey or have my loft lagged. Which is daft as I don’t have a loft.
“Chloe, I hope you don’t mind me contacting you on your mobile but I’m from Quirkus TV productions.”
The roaring sound in my ears drowned out the next few words. My knees wobbled and I sank down on the arm of the sofa clutching the phone.
“We loved the segment you did at the zoo and wondered if you and your agent would be interested in meeting us to discuss a possible future project.”
Agent? What agent? My brain went into meltdown and I hunted around the room for some paper and a pen to take down the details. This was the kind of offer I’d been dreaming about since forever.
The only paper I could see was the poem from my stalker. I grabbed that and scribbled down the details of the TV Company on the back. By the time I’d agreed a time and date to meet them my head was buzzing with excitement.
I sent Shelly a quick text telling her about the latest development in my day, grabbed my keys and went haring off up the stairs to Ben’s flat. The faint smell of food that met me on the landing made my tummy rumble. I took a deep breath to calm myself down and rang his doorbell. I longed to tell someone about my exciting phone call.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“It’s open.”
I followed the sound of Ben’s voice and found him in the kitchen.
“You’re just in time. I’m almost ready to dish up.” He smiled at me as I approached the stove.
He’d changed from his usual jeans into soft, stone coloured trousers. Instead of a tee shirt he wore a crisp white shirt. A brave choice to eat spaghetti. He’d rolled the sleeves back while he cooked. His feet were bare, and my breath caught in my throat that this gorgeous man had cooked supper for me. This clearly was not my life; any minute now it would all go wrong.
“Help yourself to wine.” He waved a spoon in the direction of an open bottle of red standing on the countertop.
I could see he’d already got a glass so I poured myself a generous measure.
“It smells delicious.” I took a sip of wine.
“Take a seat.”
My head was already dizzy from my phone call so I decided to go easy on the wine as I took my place at the table. Ben began to serve out our supper. I suddenly realised as he ladled out the pasta that he might not be as pleased about the call from the TV Company as I was.
“This was very nice of you to cook.” I hadn’t eaten since lunchtime when I’d had a rather dry sausage roll from the corner shop near the radio station.
Ben took his place opposite me. “I enjoy it, and spaghetti is pretty easy.”
My pulse speeded up as he smiled. Would it be so very wrong of me to simply enjoy the evening and not tell him about the TV company interview?
I dug into my meal and we chit-chatted about our day and Merv’s engagement.
“I was surprised when you said Tash had gone back to your parents?” She’d seemed so happy to be living with Ben I’d expected it to become a permanent arrangement.
Ben frowned as he twined his spaghetti around his fork. “Mum and Dad have had a tough time. They had all the worry when I was in the army and while I was recovering. Then there was the press attention afterwards when I spoke out. They didn’t know the extent of Tash’s problems until it was splashed all over the front of the Sunday papers.”
“And that was when the press were trying to get dirt on you?” I could understand Ben’s fierce hatred of fame and publicity.
He nodded. “Tash needed a break from Mum and Dad when she came to stay and they needed a break too. They’d been fussing and watching over her every move for months, they were so scared she’d fall off the rails. They meant well but it drove Tash crazy and my mum’s health isn’t good. She had cancer a few years ago; she’s in remission now but all the worry wasn’t helping.”
“So why has Tash gone back home now?”
“Now she’s been here for a few weeks Mum misses her, and they can see she’s settling down so they don’t have to worry so much. She’s going to stay a few days with them and see how it goes.” He picked up the wine bottle to top up my glass.
My
good intentions to go easy on the wine vanished. “I’m glad she’s okay.” I liked Ben’s sister, she was good fun.
“How about you? Any more problems with your stalker?”
Ben’s unexpected question made me cough on my mouthful of wine. Thankfully none of it landed on my borrowed top.
“I, um, found another poem when I got home.” Why have I never been much good at lying?
“You need to give it to the police. What did it say?” The humour left Ben’s eyes.
“Nothing much, just a terrible rhyme about being true and we’d be together one day.” I shrugged my shoulders and attempted to look nonchalant.
“Promise me you’ll hand it to the police.”
I crossed my fingers under the table. “Okay.” It wasn’t that I didn’t want to give the poem to the police but it would have to wait until I’d had my TV interview.
His brow lifted a little in surprise. I think he’d expected me to put up some kind of argument. Thankfully he let the matter drop and switched the conversation to telling me about some of the people he’d interviewed and photographed since he’d been working at The Gazette.
By the time we’d moved onto a rather delicious lemon cheesecake and coffee I was nicely mellow and relaxed. We migrated from the kitchen into the lounge and onto Ben’s leather sofa. Somehow this was different from the charged franticness of our previous encounter. I suppose we’d both had time to think about if getting together was what we wanted.
When Ben reached for me my pulse thudded in my ears. His lips claimed mine and all my senses sprang to attention. He tasted of coffee and lemon and I wanted more. This time I was prepared for the ridges of scar tissue crossing his chest and back when I slid my hand beneath his shirt.
I hated that someone had done this to him. He flinched slightly at my touch and at first I thought I’d hurt him.
“It’s okay. I’m just not used to someone seeing me like this.” His voice was low and ragged with emotion as he looked into my eyes.
“You look fine to me.” Relieved I hadn’t done something to give him any pain I kissed the scar running across his chest making him shiver beneath my touch. In response he unfastened the buttons on the front of my top. My nipples tightened under the flimsy lace of my bra.