Out Of The Red

by David Bradwell

  The meal progressed and we chatted more. Mitch asked me about my work, my plans and ambitions, and in turn, when prompted, opened up about his past. He’d grown up in a small village outside Nottingham, then moved to London after he’d graduated with a BSc in petrochemical engineering from Heriot-Watt University. He told me about studying for his private pilot’s licence and apologised if that made him sound like a show-off. Since he was making me laugh, I was prepared to forgive him.

  He revealed more about his acting exploits, his ultimate ambition to star in a major drama, and the need to create a showreel, before giving me the low-down on Meisner training. This seemed to involve standing next to someone, repeating exactly what they’d just said to you, until one of you cracked. Apparently it taught the importance of listening and reacting in the moment. The “reality of doing”. He was certainly a good listener. By the time we’d finished the food, we were also the best part of our way through our second bottle and I was feeling a bit tipsy. Well, more than a bit. What do you take me for?

  “Can I ask you a question?” he began, after a rare lull while the table was cleared.

  “Of course.”

  “Just are you sure... How can I put this?”

  “What?”

  “Well, that you and Danny. You’re not a couple?”

  I laughed.

  “Again, we have our moments, but no, not a couple.”

  “I don’t want to tread on anyone’s toes.”

  “Relax. I’m single. And glad of the company. We’re best friends. That’s all. Really.”

  “Okay, it’s just if he’s a big guy and he thinks otherwise...”

  “He’s not a big guy. He’s what? Five ten? You don’t need to worry. We look out for each other but we do our own thing.”

  “Glad to hear it. As long as you’re sure.”

  I nodded.

  “I’m sorry if I can’t provide the same level of excitement,” he said. “I can talk you through various isotopes and bore you to death with hydrocarbons, but it’s probably not as much fun as being on a stake-out.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. It has its moments, but normally it’s just two separate worlds really. We meet up over breakfast, or occasionally in the evenings for a drama on BBC1. Although now I’ll be looking out for you, too. My famous friend!”

  “Haha. You do sound like a married couple.”

  It was my turn to laugh.

  “I look forward to meeting him,” said Mitch, with a wink, much to my surprise and obvious horror.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, I’d like to meet all your friends.”

  “Well, play your cards right and I’ll see what I can do,” I said, while thinking I must absolutely make sure that never happens, ever.

  The bill came. Mitch insisted on paying, which seemed incredibly decent given the Brobdingnagian scale of the thing. And that’s an incredibly long word after a couple of bottles of Sauvignon. Five syllables. My mum would have been proud, but let’s not even get started on that one. I offered to split it, obviously, but he was insistent. Good lad.

  “So where now?” he asked as we left the restaurant.

  I looked at my watch. It was already past ten. Where had the time gone?

  I gave him a hug.

  “I hate to put a dampener on things, but sadly I really should be getting home,” I said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry. I’ve got to make sure Holly’s okay and that Danny’s not up to anything indecent with her.” God. The thought of that hadn’t even occurred to me until that moment. Surely he wouldn’t? There again, given his current form, who knew?

  “I understand,” said Mitch. And he went to give me a kiss on the cheek. I moved just in time so it connected with my lips. So much better.

  “Thank you again for another lovely evening,” I said, when I came up for air.

  “My absolute pleasure. When can I see you next?”

  I thought for a moment. Mustn’t look too keen, even though I increasingly was.

  “Friday evening?”

  “Perfect.”

  “I’ll call you. Should we share a cab again?”

  “Excellent plan.”

  He hailed a black cab. We got in and the journey home passed all too quickly. By the end I had a serious case of longing for the night to continue to the early hours. Alas, I knew I had to be sensible. He dropped me off in Rochester Square, and wouldn’t take any money for the taxi either. As I stood outside my door waving him off, it was with a curious sense of longing to see him again already, even though we’d just said goodbye.

  * * *

  Danny was still up. It felt a bit like coming home to my parents, trying not to get caught, but failing miserably.

  “How’s Holly?” I asked, trying to pre-empt an interrogation.

  “Fast asleep,” said Danny. “She’s exhausted, I think.”

  “I’m not surprised. Was she okay this evening?”

  “Kind of. I’ll talk to you about it.”

  That sounded a bit mysterious.

  “Let me get a cup of tea and you can tell me.”

  I put the kettle on, then checked in on Holly. As Danny said, she was fast asleep in my bed. I took the opportunity to grab my bathrobe from the back of the door and then quickly got changed into it. By the time I got back to the kitchen, Danny was already there, stirring two mugs.

  “Good night?” he asked.

  “Reasonable,” I replied. Now was not the time to go into details, not that he’d want to hear them anyway. “Massage went well?”

  “Reasonable,” he replied. God, it’s annoying when he tries to be clever.

  “Are we going to be like this forever more?” I asked.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Cagey. Secretive.”

  “You started it.”

  “Okay, add childish to the list.”

  He laughed.

  “Well, you did.”

  “I had a reasonable evening. There’s nothing more to say. We had a lovely tea and a nice bottle of wine and then I came home and here I am. Any further questions?”

  “Plenty, but they can wait.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as, where did you go? What did you have? How was he? Are you seeing him again?”

  “You’re right, they can wait. And the massage?”

  “Still just reasonable.”

  I threw a tea towel at that point. He caught it.

  “Come here,” he said.

  “You come here.”

  “All right then.”

  So he did, and he gave me a hug. Normally that would have been my happy place, but this time it just felt different. More distant. There was so much going on inside my head. I put it down to drink and resolved to work out my emotions in the morning.

  “Ugh,” I said after a minute, taking a step back.

  “What now?”

  “I forgot. I may catch something.”

  “By hanging out with strangers you meet on the tube? You should take precautions.”

  “Very funny. So, did you?”

  “Did I what?”

  “Go through with it? Or make your excuses and leave?”

  “I got thrown out.”

  “What?” Now it was my turn to laugh. But as Danny filled me in on the details I soon realised it wasn’t funny. I understood the seriousness of the situation and the questions that it raised.

  “So, what now?”

  “I need to speak to Aurelia again. Find out what happened. But that’s not going to be easy.”

  “I’d offer to go for you but I suspect it would look a bit odd. What are you going to do?”

  “The only thing I can think of is to wait outside and catch her leaving work for the day, but that’s not exactly sophisticated and would just scare the wits out of her.”

  “And ensure you get beaten to a pulp. In any case, Danny, these people don’t just clock on and off like a normal job. Not tha
t I know, obviously, but I’m imagining it. I can’t think she knocks off at 5pm and goes back to a cosy pad in Kentish Town or somewhere.”

  We needed a better plan, but none was immediately forthcoming. We took the tea through to the living room. Danny closed the door behind us, which was unusual, then beckoned me onto the sofa.

  “I need to talk to you about Holly,” he said in a low voice.

  “What’s up?”

  “It’s just, how well do you know her?”

  “Me? Not at all, really. I had a chat this afternoon and found out a bit, but I still don’t know really know her as a person.”

  “Do you think she’s straight?”

  “Straight as in not-taking-drugs straight?”

  “Just generally straight. Trustworthy.”

  “I’ve got no idea. She seemed okay this afternoon. I wouldn’t put the drugs thing past her, given her appearance backstage on Saturday and inability to get off the sofa. But then I thought that about Leah, too, and it transpires she’s never touched the stuff. I extrapolate. Why? What happened?”

  “Nothing too specific, but when I came home she was here on her own. And the first I saw, she was coming from the bedrooms. I think me coming back seemed to give her a bit of a shock. She looked flustered.”

  “She was probably just trying to have a snooze.”

  “Possibly, but then I went to my room and, I don’t know, it just looked like things had been moved.”

  “That was probably me. I moved some things in. Assuming you’re still okay with that and you don’t want me to go on the sofa.”

  “Of course I’m okay with that. It’ll be like the old days. I’m looking forward to it, as long as you don’t start snoring again. But you don’t think she was looking for something to pinch?”

  “Holly? I wouldn’t have thought so. She seems terribly posh. She’s got money, I think. Why would she be looking to steal anything? And where would she go with it? And I don’t snore.”

  “I don’t know. And you do, especially after a drink.”

  “Don’t. I don’t know, you’re probably just paranoid after this afternoon. I’m sure she’s fine.”

  “I expect so.”

  “Look, we’ll keep an eye on it. She doesn’t look the type. But then if she’s got a secret drug habit, you never know. Was she okay apart from that?”

  “Yeah, fine.”

  “She’s had a hard time. We can’t even begin to imagine it, really, but we’ll be careful, okay?”

  Danny agreed. He crossed to the desk and turned off the computer. And then, for the first time in maybe a year, I prepared to go to bed alongside him. It was one of those things we did out of necessity from time to time, usually when we were travelling together or - in times like this - when circumstances dictated. We were the best of friends. It’s the sort of things friends do and it didn’t have to lead to any untoward behaviour. And up until the last few days that was a source of abject frustration. One day, I hoped, things might return to normal. But any hope of that in the near future was about to be smashed to pieces.

  23

  Thursday, April 7th, 1994

  THE Harlem Yacht Club was neither in Harlem nor a yacht club, but instead a pub with a pretentious name in the Farringdon district of central London. Popular with staff from a nearby magazine company, and a few stragglers from the similarly-nearby Guardian newspaper, it was nevertheless quiet at 11am. Danny opened the door, walked inside, and was looking for the person he was supposed to be meeting when his attention was taken by his mobile phone ringtone.

  “Hi,” he said, after frowning at the withheld number message.

  “Okay, Danny, so far so good. I can’t meet you in a pub full of journalists, for obvious reasons, but you’re not being followed, which is good. Now look around, show your frustration, then walk straight back out, turn right, walk up through Exmouth Market, then turn right on Rosebery Avenue towards Sadler’s Wells. Got that? I’ll catch up with you.”

  Meeting Clare was never going to be straightforward. He didn’t know in how many countries she was officially a fugitive, nor in how many others she was officially deceased. He was walking up the road as instructed when a number 38 Routemaster bus stopped just a few yards in front of him. A striking-looking woman with shoulder-length brunette hair, black knee-high boots and long black overcoat stepped off the open platform at the back. She raised an umbrella and then stood on the pavement, looking at him.

  “What kept you?” she said, with a grin.

  “For heaven’s sake. Why can’t you just be normal?” he asked, but it was obvious from his tone that he was extremely pleased to see his friend and former colleague. “We meet in some very strange places.”

  “Indeed we do. Let me take you for coffee. Somewhere we can’t be overheard.”

  They crossed the road, heading in exactly the opposite direction to the nearest coffee shop.

  “What brings you to London?” asked Danny as they walked, close together, both sheltering from the rain.

  “The truthful answer or the made-up one?”

  “Truthful.”

  “Well, you’re out of luck there then. It’s better for both of us if I don’t tell you. Sorry, give me a minute.”

  She passed Danny the umbrella and then paused to light a cigarette. She looked questioningly at Danny, but he shook his head.

  “We’re not supposed to smoke where we’re going and you know how I hate to break the rules,” she said by way of explanation. “And that was a joke, by the way, before you start.”

  “You’re looking well again,” said Danny as she resumed walking. “I know it’s less than a week...”

  “But a lot has happened.”

  “It has. Do you need me to bring you up to speed or are you fully on top of everything, as ever?”

  They turned right and crossed the road again.

  “Not as on top of everything as you are, judging by your little afternoon excursion yesterday.” She winked.

  “I was thrown out!”

  “Probably just as well.”

  “But I wasn’t doing anything anyway, for your information. I was fully clothed at the time. We were just talking.”

  “I know, I’m just teasing you.”

  “You know? How do you know? How do you know everything?”

  “Wait, we’re here.”

  They stopped outside a residential property in the middle of a row of terraced houses. Clare flicked the cigarette away and then took a bunch of keys from her pocket. She undid a mortice lock first and then a Yale lock above it. Even then she had to give the door a shove to open it. It was stuck slightly in its frame.

  “Excuse the dust,” she said.

  “What’s this place? Have you got another flat I didn’t know about?”

  “No, it isn’t mine, but it belongs to a friend. I can use it if I need to. She’s away a lot.”

  “Looks like it.”

  There was a pile of post and junk leaflets in the hallway. Clare flicked on the light and led the way through to the kitchen. The house was cold. She turned the central heating to manual, and the boiler fired up.

  “Tea or coffee?” she asked. She opened the fridge door and took out a pint of semi-skimmed milk and waved it at him. “It’s fresh today, don’t worry.”

  “I thought you said nobody had been here?”

  “No, that was your assumption. Be careful with those, Danny.”

  She put the kettle on then turned to look at him.

  “Okay, so here are the ground rules.”

  “For?”

  “This. Everything. Number one: you don’t keep asking how come I know everything. It’ll get tedious as I’m not in a position to tell you.”

  “Okay.”

  “You’re never going to be able to quote me anyway, as officially I’m not here.”

  “You’re dead in fact.”

  “Precisely.”

  “And rule two?”

  “I don’t think there is a rule two.
Just that. Don’t ask me questions that I’m not going to answer - not because I don’t trust you, because I obviously do, but because others have trusted me not to break a confidence. Understood?”

  “Understood.”

  “There is a rule 1b, actually. Obviously I’m allowed to ask you questions, but it’s up to you whether to answer them or not. I may well know anyway so it’s just a question of confirming where you’re up to.”

  “And what if you think you know something when you don’t? What if you get something wrong or make a mistake? And what if somebody finds you?”

  “I’m not saying it won’t ever happen, but it hasn’t yet and I’ve got no intention of letting it happen now.”

  The kettle came to the boil. She put tea bags in two mugs then added water, and started to stir. As the tea brewed she opened the milk.

  “Can I ask if you’re working alone?”

  “No. Although I am.”

  “And your motivation is?”

  “You know what my motivation is. I want to nail March so we can finally draw a line under all of that, and I want to help you and make sure you’re safe. Nobody’s paying me. I do it because it needs to be done. And because I like to think I’m good.”

  “And you’re repaying your debt to society?”

  “Something like that.”

  She removed the tea bags, added the milk, then handed a mug to Danny.

  “Can I ask you personal questions? Like where you’re based?”

  “No.”

  “Have you got a boyfriend?”

  Clare laughed.

  “No.”

  “No I can’t ask or no you haven’t?”

  “No to both. Let’s go and sit down.”

  She led the way through to a sparsely furnished living room. The walls were bland magnolia, the art anonymous and inoffensive. Danny recognised some as IKEA prints. A small television sat on a unit in the corner, close to the window, which in turn was covered by a plain net curtain. There wasn’t much else aside from a sofa and an armchair, with a small table between them. Double glazing muffled the traffic noise from outside. Danny sat on the sofa while Clare took the armchair.