Out Of The Red

by David Bradwell

“Holly, you’re a very naughty girl.”

  “The night is still young, Graham.” She blew smoke at the ceiling, reached forward, and gave his leg a squeeze under the table.

  “Mmm, you are a delectable tease. I must introduce you to my good friend Giancarlo. His carbonara is to die for. And he has a wonderful Vermentino in the cellar.”

  “That sounds delicious.” Her expression suddenly became more serious.

  “Talking of Danny, you haven’t been to visit him in the hospital yet then?”

  March gave her a quizzical look.

  “No, not yet. I’ve been otherwise preoccupied with Seb. But I’m not sure I’d be welcome. It’s another terrible thing.”

  “It’s a dangerous world, Graham. We should always bear that in mind. I was thinking of going, and popping my head in on Leah while I was there.”

  “Ah, the poor girl.”

  “Indeed. The prognosis looks bad.”

  “Really? I heard she was on the verge of regaining consciousness.”

  Holly raised her eyebrows and stubbed out her cigarette.

  “I’d better get a move on then,” she said.

  March subconsciously felt for the tape machine in his inside pocket. He just hoped the microphone was sensitive enough to be picking this up.

  34

  WITH a free afternoon, and nothing much to do apart from think about Danny and the general sense of mounting chaos, albeit with a slight tingle at the prospect of a romantic evening, I decided I may as well tidy the flat after all, with, ahem, specific attention to my bedroom. And of course, as it was my first night back in my own room since Holly had stayed, I had to change the bedsheets too. Purely for personal hygiene reasons, obviously, and nothing at all to do with inviting anyone back at any point. Or so I told myself, rather unconvincingly.

  I kept thinking of things that Holly could have stolen, but each time I checked, they were still there. Maybe I’d done her a disservice. Perhaps it was just a touch of paranoia on my behalf, coming on top of doubts expressed by Danny. I wondered how she was. I didn’t really expect to ever see her again, apart from maybe at Steve’s funeral, whenever that might be.

  Just the thought of the funeral filled me an overwhelming sadness. He had so much to live for. It was so unfair. I wondered if the police were making any progress in finding out what had happened to him. And to Leah for that matter. It had certainly been a traumatic few days. I felt a bit like the last person standing, which made me nervous, but then I was equally unaware of being in any personal danger. I’m just a fashion photographer. Not really a threat to anyone.

  By half past five the place was reasonably spotless, and I headed back to the shower. I decided to really make an effort with my appearance, so it was the full treatment with the hair and make-up. I opted for smoky eyes and pale lipstick and then chose some simple jewellery - all to add drama to my best black dress. I ditched the tights in favour of rather sexy lace-top hold-ups, which I had to hope would actually stay up, and then went back to the uncomfortable shoes which were fearsomely high, but that’s one of the perks of being little. I couldn’t decide if I looked like a seductive femme fatale or a complete floozy, hoped it was the former, feared it was the latter, and then decided that as Mitch was a man he’d probably prefer the floozy anyway.

  I drove to the restaurant. There was a logic to this. It was chucking it down with rain again, so it was good to minimise exposure to the elements. Furthermore, I knew I was feeling reckless, so driving meant I wouldn’t be tempted to drink. I wanted to remain in control. Unless, of course, the evening went well and we did, by some fluke of circumstance, end up back at my now very-presentable flat which, just coincidentally, I had to myself for the evening. And if that was the case then the couple of bottles of Cava I’d absent-mindedly left in the fridge should help things go very smoothly indeed. Until that point, however, I always had a get-out clause. I don’t give myself away lightly.

  “Wow, you look amazing,” said Mitch as I approached his table. I smiled. It was an encouraging start.

  “Thank you,” I said. “You look very lovely too.” I was pleased to see he’d also made an effort. He had a crisp white shirt again, with elegant double cuffs, just popping out from the sleeves of his beautifully tailored navy jacket. I momentarily thought of his arms, and how much I’d like to be within them by the end of the evening.

  “I’ve ordered wine,” he said, as I took a chair.

  “Ah, not for me, thank you. I’m driving.”

  I could see a flash of disappointment cross his face, but he did well to rein it in.

  “Could you not leave the car and we’ll share a taxi?”

  “Not tonight, alas,” I said. “Although if you play your cards right, I may offer to give you a lift home.”

  “Mmm, intriguing. Your place or mine?”

  I just winked and left the question unanswered.

  “You can drink though, I don’t mind,” I added.

  “I’ll see if they’ll let us take the rest of the bottle home. If I drink the whole thing on my own I’ll be langered.”

  That was a new word.

  “You’ll be what?”

  “Sorry, pissed.”

  “What on earth’s langered?”

  His cheeks seemed to colour slightly.

  “Nothing, Just a bit of Irish slang. From a script I’m learning.”

  “Exciting. New role?”

  “Maybe, if it goes well.”

  “Film, TV?”

  “No, it’s just a student thing, but it’s all good for the showreel if it comes off.”

  “Fingers crossed then.” I had a devilish thought. “Go on then, give me a line. I can’t wait to hear your Irish accent.”

  “No! It’s embarrassing.”

  “Actually, that’s a point, I thought you had an Irish accent when I first heard you on the phone at the tube station. I’d forgotten about that.”

  “Really? I don’t know why that was. I’d just been on at the studio though, so maybe I was practising.”

  I was tempted to press the point but I decided to let him off for good behaviour.

  “Okay,” I said with a grin. “For your information, I’m not getting ‘langered’ or pissed or anything else for that matter, but feel free on my behalf.”

  The waiter came over and I ordered a Diet Coke without ice. The ice destroys the bubbles.

  “So,” he said, once we were back on our own, “tell me about your long night.”

  “Oh, you wouldn’t believe...”

  And then it all came out, although I did my best to be vague, omitting some of the details where I knew there were confidences that shouldn’t be betrayed. I didn’t mention Clare by name, nor that she’d reappeared and seemingly saved us.

  He said I’d been very brave, but I tried to play that down. Then, as the conversation flowed, he told me about a couple of auditions that he’d been preparing for, and explained the secret of learning lines. Apparently it’s not a memory test. If you properly analyse the script, and the emotions and motivations, and fully embrace the needs and wants of the character, then the lines you have should be a natural response to whatever the other person is saying. It all sounded very psychological. Clearly there was a lot more to the whole acting lark than just standing up, talking, and occasionally jumping off a moving train.

  At some point the waiter arrived and took our order. At some other point the food arrived. And at a third and final point I asked for the bill, only to discover that Mitch had already settled it. It all seemed to pass so quickly. As we stood up to leave the table, he helped me with my jacket.

  “So,” he said, raising his eyebrows as we arrived at the exit. I reached for his hands.

  “Thank you, again, for another lovely evening,” I said, acknowledging the unspoken question. “We should go to the cinema some time, if you’re up for that. You can point out all the technicalities.” I knew what he was really asking but didn’t want to look too keen.

  “
I would, definitely. I like the thought of people thinking you’re my girlfriend.”

  He put his arm around me. We kissed. My resolve weakened.

  “It’s still only quarter to nine,” he said. “The night is yet young.”

  He was asking again. My last ounce of self-restraint departed at the thought of what might lie ahead.

  “Would you like to come back for coffee?” I asked.

  He squeezed me slightly tighter.

  “Do you mean coffee or ‘coffee’?”

  I wasn’t quite sure what I meant, although secretly I had an inkling, and it didn’t involve caffeine.

  “Wait and see,” I said with another wink, which, knowing my luck, probably made him think I had a twitch.

  When characters in films finally make it across the threshold, they usually rip each other’s clothes off before even getting fully past the hallway. This was considerably less dramatic. I showed Mitch through to the spotlessly tidy living room, asked if he’d like a glass of Cava or actual coffee, and then asked him to give me a minute while I phoned the hospital to check in on Danny. He suggested Cava, thankfully, so I excused myself and took the phone through to the kitchen.

  My first shock came when I got through to the ward and asked how he was. The nurse on duty said she’d check, then came back on the phone a few moments later.

  “He’s making good progress,” she said. “He should be ready to come home tomorrow. His sister’s with him now.”

  “His sister?” Danny hasn’t got a sister.

  “Yes. She said to let you know if you called. She’s been trying to call your mobile apparently.”

  “Ah, okay. Sorry. It’s been a long day. My phone must be off.” I reached into my bag on the kitchen table and found my mobile. There were three missed calls, all from Clare’s number.

  “So she has. My apologies. I’ll give her a call now,” I said. “Thank you for passing on the message.”

  “No problem. Hopefully we’ll see you tomorrow. The doctor does his rounds any time between eight and ten, so if you come after that you should be able to take him.”

  “Brilliant. See you then, and thank you.”

  I rang off, and walked back to the living room, and apologised to Mitch that I was going to take longer than I thought. He said it was okay and not to worry. I think the glass of wine helped. I went back to the kitchen and dialled Clare’s number from my mobile, much more calmly and less annoyed than I’d have been a day ago.

  “Is that Danny’s sister?” I asked when she answered on the third ring.

  “Anna, hi. Are you okay? I’ve been worried about you.”

  “I’m fine. I’ve just been out to dinner. What’s up? Is everything okay with Danny?”

  “Yes, he’s good. We’ve just been going through the case, putting everything in order. Hold on, I’ll pass you over.”

  There was a pause and then Danny came on the line.

  “Hi, Anna,” he said.

  “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

  “Shhh, not so loud. Listen, are you busy?”

  “What? Right now?”

  “Yes. Have you got much on? I need a favour, although it’s quite a big one.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell him I had considerably more on than I hoped I’d have in a few minutes.

  “It depends. What’s that favour?”

  “I need to ask you in person.”

  “Right. Can it wait till the morning?”

  “Hmmm.” He went silent.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s just it would be better tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yeah. Why, what are you up to?”

  “Just at this minute talking to you, but I was about to go to bed.” Again, elaboration was not required.

  “That’s a bit early. Have you been drinking?”

  “No, as it happens.”

  “That’s good. Would you be able to come in?”

  “What, now? Is it not a bit late for visitors?”

  “I’ve spoken to the nurses and they said it’s okay as it’s a private room.”

  “I know, but Danny, it’s nine o’clock.”

  “Just gone five to, really.”

  “All right, Mr Pedantic, but the same thing applies. Can it not wait till the morning?”

  “Not really. But you never go to bed this early normally anyway. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Sorry. Look, if it’s a problem tomorrow’s fine.”

  “No, it’s not a problem. I’ll come in. You owe me though.”

  “Shoes and kitchen rota?”

  “A damn sight more than that. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  I rang off. Typical bloody men. Inside a part of me screamed.

  I went back to the living room. Mitch was looking at something on the desk but stopped as soon as I entered, presumably having a sneaky peek into my private world. I didn’t know whether to be annoyed or flattered, but I could feel a bad mood coming on so knew I should probably give him the benefit of the doubt.

  “Everything all right?” he asked.

  “No, not really. I’ve got to go to the hospital. I’m so sorry.”

  “That doesn’t sound good. Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine, I think. But apparently I’m needed.”

  “Would you like me to come with you?”

  I thought for a moment.

  “No, thank you,” I said. “That’s a lovely offer but I don’t know how long I’ll be. I can give you a lift home, though.” I suddenly realised I had no idea where he lived.

  “No, don’t worry.” He sounded as disappointed as I was. “I don’t mind walking. The exercise will do me good.”

  I gave him a hug. I’m useless at relationships at the best of times, but this one seemed like it was suffering from more external challenges than most. It was just such a turbulent time. Maybe completely the wrong time. But my fear was that by the time the moment was right, he’d have moved on, and I’d have blown any chance I might have had for happiness.

  “It’s not always like this,” I said, mainly to try to convince myself. I knew it usually was.

  Mitch put his jacket back on.

  “Can I still call you?” I asked.

  “Of course.”

  He kissed me on the nose, which seemed remarkably intimate. I showed him to the door.

  “Are you sure I can’t give you a lift?”

  “I’m sure,” he said. “You get going, as soon as you can. Don’t worry. We’ll get a chance. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

  35

  CLEARLY I needed to get changed into something less obviously seductive, but then I thought, Clare’s there, so fuck it. I went as I was.

  I parked up at the hospital just before half past nine and made my way through to Danny’s ward. I was stopped by a security man who told me visiting had finished, but seemed to believe my story about being needed urgently at the bedside of a dying relative. Danny wasn’t a relative, as such, but there was a reasonable chance I was about to strangle him, so the story wasn’t completely without foundation.

  The lights were low on the ward, but a nurse came when I buzzed the entrance door and I was allowed in. I went straight through to Danny’s room, nodded to the policeman on guard who recognised me, thankfully, and opened the door without knocking - half hoping to catch them at it just so I could be proved right after all.

  Instead, Danny was propped up on the bed. Clare was in the chair in which I’d spent the previous evening. The bed was covered in pieces of paper, both A4 sheets and pages from notebooks, and Danny’s ThinkPad was switched on and open on the bed beside him. Clare got up when I arrived.

  “I’m so pleased to see you,” said Danny. “Wow, you look gorgeous. What’s with the outfit?”

  “Thank you,” I said, ignoring the question. Clare just smiled and gave me a conspiratorial wink, as t
hough she knew exactly what I’d just been up to. Knowing Clare, she very probably did. She hung up my coat and then offered to go to get us all a cup of tea. I think it was just an excuse for her to go and have a cigarette somewhere, but one day, maybe, I’ll learn to give her the benefit of the doubt.

  “So, what’s the big favour and why the rush?” I asked when she’d gone, after taking the chair. I could feel Danny’s attention on my legs, so I crossed them, but I think that made things worse.

  “Have you been out somewhere?” he asked, rather than answering me.

  “I had, but I was home when I called. The favour?”

  “With Mitch?”

  “Does it matter who it was with?”

  “Yes of course it matters. It breaks my heart to think I’m losing you, if you must know.”

  “Oh, Danny.” I reached for his hand. “You’re not losing me. We’ll always be us. I’m just having a bit of fun because it does me good. But tonight isn’t really the time to get into all of that because it’s already late and I’m super tired, and you said it was urgent.”

  “Okay.” He let go of my hand and propped himself up in bed. “We should probably wait till Clare gets back, but I’ll give you the background. We’ve been going through all the research, and interviews, everything we know, everything we assume, everything I found out in Germany.”

  “You’ve been busy then. What time did she get here?”

  “About half an hour after you left.”

  “Lordy. That’s quite a stint. What happened to your early night?”

  “That didn’t happen.”

  “Evidently.” To be fair to Clare, though, that was quite a commitment. I found myself in deeply unfamiliar territory trying to be fair to Clare, but credit where it’s due, she was putting in some effort, and not without considerable risk to her personal liberty. While I was thinking that, the door opened and she came in holding a small tray with three plastic cups of vending machine tea. I tried to detect the aroma of smoke, but there was no more than normal, so all credit to her for that too. No credit at all for the quality of the tea though, which looked awful as usual, but I doubted that was her fault.