by Isabel Wolff
‘So they decided to target your assistant instead. She didn’t have as much to lose as you. She didn’t have the fancy job and the nice salary; so she was tempted—and she cracked.’ I felt my lips purse up like my mother’s used to, like a drawstring bag.
‘She certainly did.’
‘I love conspiracy theories,’ Claudia went on knowingly, ‘and I think I know who’s behind this. I can’t prove it, of course, but you might want to try as you’ve lost your job.’ I heard the door bell ring again; it was late, people were beginning to leave.
‘Who is it then?’ I said.
‘Well, in my opinion I think it’s…’
Suddenly I felt a subtle pressure on my elbow and turned to my left. I felt as though I’d fallen down a mineshaft. I was looking at Ed. In a nanosecond my pulse had accelerated from a steady, perfectly legal seventy, to a one hundred and thirty Ferrari burn.
‘Rose,’ he said softly. I turned to Claudia, who was looking at Ed, slightly awe-struck, in the way that all women do.
‘Claudia,’ I said, my heart beating so loudly I was worried she’d hear it, ‘could I call you some time?’
‘Sure. I’ve got to go now anyway, but, here…’ she opened her bag and handed me her business card. ‘Give me a ring.’
‘Rose,’ said Ed again. ‘I…’ he shrugged with embarrassment, then smiled. ‘You look very…well. In fact you look lovely,’ he added.
I stared at him, my legs trembling violently. Oh shit. Ed was so attractive; he eclipsed every other man in the room.
‘Ed,’I said with lethal civility. ‘What a surprise.’ Blocks of protective ice shot up around me like the bricks of an igloo and I saw him flinch at the tone of my voice. ‘I thought you weren’t coming,’ I added pointedly with another sip of champagne.
‘Well,’ he smiled guiltily, ‘I’ve gate-crashed. I know I’m not meant to be here.’ I glanced around for Mary-Claire, and couldn’t see her; but my eye lighted on Bella, who was looking aghast. ‘I’m here on my own,’ he added, reading my mind.
‘Oh. I see. And why’s that?’
‘Well,’ he shrugged again. ‘I just am.’ How strange. Why wasn’t that midget here? Maybe they were re-making The Wizard of Oz and she was busy playing one of the Munchkins. Or maybe there’d been an outbreak of swine fever in Putney and she wasn’t feeling well.
‘So why have you come?’ I asked.
‘Because, I, well, I simply wanted to, well…’ he cleared his throat, ‘…see you actually.’
‘Oh,’ I said dismissively. ‘How nice.’ I was so cold with him I was giving myself frostbite: I was also, to be honest, intrigued. ‘But, why do you want to see me, Ed?’ I asked pleasantly.
‘Because you’ve had a very…hard time. It’s really hurt me seeing you being attacked in the press. I, of all people, know how dedicated to your job you are,’ he said with a grim little laugh. ‘So I just wanted to, well, offer you my support, that’s all.’
‘Oh.’ The warmth of his words was melting my igloo and large puddles were forming at my feet. ‘Well…thanks. But then why didn’t you just ring me up?’
‘Because I don’t have your number.’
‘But you know where I work.’
‘That’s true. But I thought you might not want to speak to me. When I first got the invitation for tonight, I was amazed; and I thought you must have asked the twins to invite me. And that made me feel so happy, Rose, because, well…’ he sighed. ‘Well…,’ he tried again.
‘Yes?’
‘I’ve…missed you.’
‘Ah.’
‘In fact,’ he murmured urgently, as though he were in some distress, ‘I can’t stop thinking about you.’ By now my igloo had become a small lake, and I was trying desperately to stay afloat. ‘Then I got Bella’s messages asking me not to turn up,’ Ed went on, ‘and I realised I’d made a mistake. I know I shouldn’t have come, and I’m sorry, but the fact is, I just wanted to see you again. Face to face.’
I was going to need sunglasses at this rate. But I decided I wasn’t going to make it too easy for him. And I was just about to launch into some chilly little speech about how grateful I was for his generous sentiments, when he suddenly added, ‘well, that’s all I came to say really. Goodbye.’ And with that he kissed me on the cheek, then went up to the twins, congratulated them, gave me a sad little smile, and left. I stood, staring after him, as he walked down the street, still aware of the light pressure of his lips on my face. I glanced around at the crowd. Henry was making a fuss of Trevor; Theo was talking to Bev, then the twins extricated themselves from their respective conversations and came up to me.
‘Rose,’ Bea breathed, her eyes like saucers. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Ye-es,’ I lied. ‘I’m fine. I…well, it was rather strange,’ I added faintly. In fact it was an emotional hit and run.
‘At least he didn’t stay long,’ Bella observed. ‘That was decent of him.’
‘What did he want?’ asked Bea. What did he want? I looked at her.
‘I don’t really know. He said he just wanted to tell me that he’d been thinking of me with all this crap I’ve had in the press.’
‘And where was she?’
‘Good question.’
‘Maybe he’s dumped her,’ said Bella. My heart lifted suddenly.
‘Yes, maybe he has,’ said Bea. ‘Not that you’d want him back, Rose. That would be disastrous.’
‘Er, yes,’I said. ‘It would. Anyway, er, it’s been great, but I think I’ll go home now.’
Henry was on his way out, making some excuse to Bea. He gave me a friendly wave goodbye. Theo and Beverley said that they were happy to go, too; and as we trundled back to Camberwell in the cab I was aware that Theo was staring at me.
‘Are you all right, Rose?’ he asked as we chugged through the streets of south London. I glanced out of the window.
‘I’m fine. It was just a bit weird speaking to my husband for the first time in six months.’ Beverley reached out and squeezed my hand. ‘Why is it,’ I asked, in a voice so faint, I hardly recognised it as my own, ‘that it’s always at the very, very moment when you finally think you’ve got over someone, that they come back into your life?’
‘What did he say?’ Beverley asked.
‘He said…’ I began. ‘He said that he can’t stop thinking about me.’
‘Oh.’ As the cab stopped, and Theo pulled down the ramp, Ed’s words spun through my head again like the ‘zipper’ line at the bottom of the screen on CNN.I’ve missed you, Rose…wanted to see you again…talk to you, face to face. I paid the driver as Theo helped Beverley inside then lifted up the catch on my gate.
‘You’re such a nightmare to live with!’ No, Ed hadn’t said that. ‘You’re a mess!’ No, he hadn’t said that either, I reflected. He’d only said nice, kind things.
‘You’re always working, Rose. No, I won’t clear that up!’ What the—? I looked at the doorstep. There was something standing on it. It was large and square and covered with a black bin liner which had two large slashes in the side.
‘Betrayed of Barnsley!’ I heard. ‘Depressed of Dagenham!’ I gingerly lifted the bin liner, and there, staring beadily up at me, was Rudy.
‘Rudy!’ I breathed. ‘Thank God.’ And now as I opened the front door and took him inside, I could see a note attached to the cage.
Dear Rose, it said in thick hb pencil, (we assume that’s your name). Sorry, but we just couldn’t stick it with this bird. All the awful rows gave us the hump. We’ve got a lot of simpathy for Ed actually. He sounds like a pretty desent sort of bloke. Yours truly, the burglars.
My indignation at their impertinence was swept away by my relief. ‘Oh it’s so nice to see you again, Rudy,’ I said ecstatically. ‘You can talk as much as you like. Rudy’s back!’ I shouted to Theo as he came into the kitchen. ‘He’s been returned!’
I looked in his cage—it was beautifully clean and freshly newspapered, and there was water in his bowl. A half
apple lay on the floor, and a couple of large black grapes. As Theo helped me put the cage back in its place, my head reeled. What a night. I’d been told that the Electra affair was a publicity stunt, and my stolen mynah had been returned. Strangest of all, my soon-to-be-ex-husband had unexpectedly turned up and been affectionate and charming to me. I can’t stop thinking about you. That’s what he’d said I remembered as I went up to bed. I can’t stop thinking about you. Oh. Can’t Stop Thinking About You. CSThnkAU.
Chapter 16
‘I can’t believe it,’ Bea wailed the following morning. ‘I just can’t—uh uh…’ She was weeping so uncontrollably that I could barely distinguish the words. ‘Feel such a fool…thought he was so nice…up the garden path…what will my friends think?…he just phoned me this morning…total shock…’
‘How did he, um, put it?’ I asked. At this there was another explosive sob. It was so loud, that Trevor heard it, and came over to my desk to investigate; but then he’s very sensitive to weeping that dog.
‘He said,’ Bea began, ‘he—uh-uh—said, that there was—uhuh-uh—another woman!’
‘Another woman?’I reiterated wonderingly. I glanced at Beverley as she ripped open the letters. She was trying not to look as though she’d heard but she knew it was Bea as she’d taken the call. Another woman…? Ah. Of course. That’s how Henry had delicately put it to me when he’d first told me about his penchant for feminine attire. He’d said that the reason he’d broken up with Venetia was because there’d been ‘another woman,’ i. e. him.
‘And is that all he said?’ I added gently.
‘Yes,’ she sniffed. ‘That’s all.’
‘Well I’m very sorry, Bea, I know you liked him…’
‘Liked him? I adored him!’ she shrieked. ‘And all the time I spent reading up on military history has completely gone to waste. Who am I going to discuss El Alamein with now? Hm?’
‘Oh, well, it might come in handy one day, you never know.’
‘It’s just so awful,’ she blubbed. ‘I never saw it coming. How could I be so blind?’ Indeed. ‘I don’t know who this other woman is,’ she added menacingly. I wasn’t going to tell her the truth.
‘Bea, I really wouldn’t worry too much about that. There are lots of other nice men out there and in any case Henry’s going to the Gulf for six weeks. Honestly,’ I added airily, ‘you wouldn’t be happy with him as he’s always away. And would you really want to be an army wife?’
Her sobs subsided. ‘Probably not—uh-uh. But that’s not the point!’ she added crossly.
‘Then what is the point?’
‘The point is that now Bella’s got someone and I haven’t!’
Ah, I thought as I put down the phone. Poor Bea, that was a hard fall. But she’s like a bull in a china shop—her lack of circumspection is dire. I mean, some people have absolutely no insight into their own behaviour do they! And I’m afraid Bea just didn’t read between the lines. I breathed a sigh of relief for Henry, though; at least he’d done the deed. Now, as Beverley handed me the day’s problems I revisited the strange events of the previous night. I had spoken to Ed for the first time in six months and had worked out that the Confettimail was from him: which, presumably, could mean only one thing—that he’d split up with Mary-Claire Grey.
‘Beverley,’ I said as I switched on my computer, ‘you know your friend, the one on the ball committee, the one who knows my husband’s girlfriend…’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘Gill Hart.’
‘Could you do a bit of discreet snooping and find out what’s happened?’
‘Sure. I’ll give her a ring.’
I tried hard to concentrate on the day’s problems, but it was difficult given what had happened the night before. A confusing combination of surprise and yes, pleasure, at seeing Ed again, competed in my mind for space. He’d taken this huge risk, and gone to the twins’ party knowing that I’d probably be cold and remote. And I’d tried very hard to be cold and remote but his warm words had deflected my wrath. Which meant I no longer had the luxury of indignation—a channel between us had opened up. It was clear that Ed had real regrets about our split and wanted to make amends. But did I…? I determined to drive him from my thoughts for the time being, and now, as I handed over some letters to Beverley to draft, I thought again about what Claudia had said. I rummaged in my bag—it’s such a mess these days—for her business card, then rang her at Heat magazine.
‘I’m sorry we didn’t conclude our conversation last night,’ I said.
‘Well I don’t blame you—that stunning bloke turned up! Who is he?’
I explained.
‘Lucky you!’ she breathed. ‘Anyway back to the subject in hand.’
‘So you think Electra’s record company are behind this?’
‘Ooh no, it’s more than that. If you ask me it’s got Rex Delafoy plastered all over it.’ Rex Delafoy? The P.R. king and tabloid sleazemonger?
‘I thought disgraced politicians were more his thing. Why would he get involved with this?’
‘Because he wanted to promote Electra and, at the same time, I would say, get at you.’
‘Why would he want to do that?’
‘I don’t know. But have you ever crossed him? He’s notoriously vengeful.’
‘No. Although…I did write a profile of him last year, for the Post, just before I became their agony aunt. It wasn’t that nice, but then it didn’t say anything about him that hasn’t been said before. In fact it was a bit of a cuttings job as I only had a day.’
‘Was it a signed profile?’ she asked.
‘No, it was anonymous, they always are.’
‘But he could have found out that it was by you.’
‘Yes, probably. It wouldn’t be hard—’ Ah. I suddenly remembered: Serena’s sister works for Rex Delafoy. Knowing what I now know about Serena, she probably told her that it was me.
‘Well,’ Claudia added, ‘I’d take another look at that profile if I were you.’
I went down to the library, leafed through the thick file of Delafoy clippings and found my piece near the top.Delafoy’s legendary ruthlessness…consummate media manipulator…purveyor of sleaze…makes reputations…breaks reputations…Fleet Street eats out of his hand…ruthless, rude and backstabbing… And then I’d added, in a flourish of my own, The hair is improbably luxuriant while his curiously smooth and bagless eyes suggest that he’s been under the knife.
I phoned Claudia back and read it to her.
‘Oh God he’d hate that!’ she exclaimed.
‘What, ruthless, rude and backstabbing?’
‘No, the last bit—he’s notoriously vain. He’s had hair weaving and he has had his eyes done—but he’d never forgive you for saying so in a million years. I’d talk to your editor about this if I were you. Good luck!’
‘The Electra story appears to be a scam,’ I said calmly to Ricky five minutes later. ‘I believe I’ve been stitched up—or rather “turned over” to use tabloid-speak.’ Ricky leaned forward on his desk, his balding head gleaming in the spotlights as I explained Claudia’s theory to him.
‘But her letter was genuine, wasn’t it?’
‘Only in as much as she wrote it, but in every other respect it’s probably fake.’
‘You mean she’s not a dyke?’ His face expressed a strange mixture of stupefaction and disappointment.
‘No, I don’t think she is. I think Rex Delafoy dreamt up the whole thing with the aim of giving Electra a massive media blast to hype her new single, while at the same time getting at me. Delafoy’s lot then tipped off Serena about it.’
Ricky looked at me then rubbed both temples with his index and middle fingers as if it helped the cogs in his brain to turn. ‘But how could they possibly know that Serena would definitely leak the letter?’
‘Because her sister works for Rex Delafoy. That’s why Delafoy’s lot targeted Serena because they knew that she was broke. Then all she had to do was get hold of the letter, copy it, t
ake it to the Daily News and Pass Go.’
Ricky steepled his fingers and stared into the distance, an expression of childlike bewilderment on his face. ‘But how did she get hold of it? You said you were so careful.’
‘I was. But what I didn’t know was that Serena had a set of keys to my desk, probably a spare set of Edith Smugg’s. I went down to the canteen for about half an hour and she must have opened my drawer then. She’d made a great show of saying that she was going home, but she clearly didn’t—she hung around.’
Ricky’s brow was pleated with concentration while his lips were pursed into a thin line. ‘But in that case why didn’t Delafoy’s lot just give Serena a copy of the letter.’
‘Because they needed her to believe it was real. She wouldn’t have taken it to the News if she thought it wasn’t genuine.’
‘Hhmm. Shirley!’ he shouted to his secretary, ‘get me all the latest cuts on Electra!’ He reached for the phone. ‘I’ll get my investigative boys onto this.’ A wave of relief swept over me. Maybe I wouldn’t lose my job after all. I’d felt so indignant at what had happened, but maybe it was going to turn out all right after all.
As I returned to my desk, Beverley was on the phone and I heard her say, ‘Thanks Gill—talk to you soon. Rose, I’ve found out a bit about Mary-Claire Grey,’ she said as I sat down. ‘All Gill knows is that Ed didn’t leave her.’
‘Didn’t he?’
‘No. She dumped him.’
‘Oh?’
‘It happened a month ago apparently, but Gill doesn’t know why. She said she hasn’t spoken to Mary-Claire for a while—apparently she’s moved up to Newcastle—but when she’s got her new number, she’ll tell me more.’
So…Mary-Claire had given Ed the push. How interesting. But why?
‘Maybe he snores,’ suggested Bella a couple of nights later as we were sitting in my kitchen. ‘God this curry’s fantastic, Rose, I can’t believe you made it.’
I still couldn’t quite believe it myself. Theo was out giving a lecture on ‘Sunspots, Aurorae and Other Cosmic Commotion’ so I’d done it unaided. To my amazement it hadn’t been hard.