The signs that it was Alex were all there. I sighed hard, my breath condensing before me, and realised I’d have to phone Fox back.
Stumbling slightly on a jagged paving-stone, one of my earphones dropped out. About to slot it back in, I thought I caught distant footsteps somewhere behind me. I turned Elgar down and glanced behind me quickly. Nothing. I tried to laugh my fear off, but that wobbly laugh was interrupted by what were most definitely footsteps: they echoed eerily up the small cobbled street. The dark buildings loomed high above me and I had a sudden vision of Bill Sikes prowling after poor old Nancy with vengeance in his cruel heart. With a jolt, I realised how very quiet the street was, how utterly deserted – just how far the pub was, its lights barely visible at the far end. I realised I was completely alone – alone, apart from those footsteps. All I needed was a pea-souper and I’d be truly done for. I sped up.
So did the footsteps.
This was the point where the audience shouts ‘run’. My foot ached as I pushed myself forward; my teenage self blazing past me. Lord, I had been fast back then. Jacqueline du Pré’s cello bow flew with such valour, such vigour now, and with it the thought flashed through my head that this was a perfect score to die by.
I peered over my shoulder; a cloudy-edged figure was gaining on me now and I sobbed with something like real fear. And then the pub door came in sight, and I thought I’d be safe – until something shot out of the shadows at my feet and I went flying, landing heavily on my knees, losing my earphones so I could just hear du Pré’s crescendo rattling tinnily from the ground. There was a crash of metal beside me and I almost assumed the foetal position as a mangy old fox slid out of the dustbins beside me, his back scabby, his tail a pathetic wisp. Unblinking, he regarded me for a second, his eyes green glass in the streetlight, before he slunk off into the night.
The footsteps were so near now I couldn’t bear to look. I just jumped up quickly, my hands grazed and bleeding from where I’d blocked my fall. Abandoning the iPod on the floor, I started to run again.
‘Maggie!’
Did I know that voice? I didn’t care.
‘Maggie, stop! Please stop!’
But I couldn’t now. I couldn’t stop; I daren’t. I sprinted the last fifty yards up the alley and dived through the pub door, nearly taking Bel down with me.
‘Blimey!’ She took one look at me and started singing Bat Out of Hell.
‘Yeah, all right.’ I tried to catch my breath. ‘I was just worried that I was late, that’s all.’ I attempted to smile; I didn’t want to ruin her night with my fears, but I kept one eye firmly on the door as she kissed me hello.
‘God, your cheeks are cold.’ Bel held out her hand for my coat. ‘I’ll hang it up.’
‘Thanks.’ I passed it over.
‘Oh, your hand, Maggie.’ Bel took mine in hers, frowning. ‘It’s bleeding. Ouch! They both are. How on earth did you do that?’
‘It’s fine, honestly.’ I cased the room quickly. ‘Alex isn’t coming, is he?’
‘No way,’ Bel was starting to say, and I was just relaxing a little – and then Joseph Blake walked through the door, his pale face flushed, his nose bright red from the cold. I felt like screaming, but I didn’t. I swiped a glass of champagne off a tray on the bar instead and drank it in one gulp, which made me cough. Bel was still talking about Alex as Joseph walked towards me. I realised he was holding my iPod.
‘I warned Johnno, anyway, Mag. Not to invite him this time, I mean. But what have you done to your hands?’
‘Nothing. I just tripped. You know me and coordination.’ I put my glass down and searched for another.
Joseph had almost reached us by now. I felt like my pet rabbit when I was ten, his run on the lawn being circled by the neighbourhood cats, crammed into one corner, praying for survival.
‘I was calling you, Maggie.’ He reached me. ‘Outside. You didn’t stop. You dropped this.’
‘Thanks.’ I held my hand out for the player. ‘I – I didn’t hear you.’
‘You’re bleeding,’ he said.
‘Oh God, not you as well.’ I looked around desperately for that drink.
‘Blood.’
‘Yes, I’m bleeding blood, Joseph. It’s quite usual, I think.’
‘Maggie!’ Bel reprimanded softly.
Joseph’s white face was even paler than normal. ‘I’m not very good with blood.’ He started to sway.
Brilliant. ‘Well, let’s go and sit down, shall we?’
Bel’s brother Nigel crept up behind her, sweeping her into an enormous bear-hug. ‘Let me go,’ she giggled, kicking her legs like a toddler, and I caught the expression on Joseph’s face as he watched. Something I recognised as longing.
‘Come on, you,’ I said, propelling Joseph to a corner, pulling my sleeves over my still-stinging palms in an attempt to stop him from fainting. ‘Okay now?’
He nodded. We sat there for a moment in silence, two lost souls in a sea of revelry.
‘So?’ I prompted eventually. ‘I don’t mean to be rude – but why exactly are you here?’
‘It’s just,’ Joseph was murmuring, so quiet now I could hardly catch the words over the crowd’s babble. He was staring at his feet. ‘I couldn’t go home without – well, I just wanted to explain something.’ He looked like he might cry.
I took a big slug of wine. ‘Go on.’
‘I wanted to own up.’ He met my eye for practically the first time today, and his forehead was all sweaty. ‘It was me. I did take Donna’s book.’
‘I see.’ I felt no emotion at all. ‘Why?’
‘I dunno.’ He picked at the bright label on his beer-bottle, droplets of moisture rolling down the brown glass, more droplets rolling off his head. ‘I was showing my initiative.’
‘And how was that then?’ And then the penny dropped. ‘Oh God, Joseph. That’s what you were doing the other night in Charlie’s office.’
‘What?’ He stared at his drink.
‘You were selling Donna’s numbers. Oh, you stupid, stupid boy.’
‘Don’t call me that.’
‘Well, weren’t you?’
‘I get a bit – a bit kind of confused sometimes.’
‘Confused?’ I stared at him.
‘I have a bit of a problem with depression. I have to take a – a medication, you know.’
That word: depression. How it stalked me.
‘What’s that got to do with stealing numbers? Who were you selling them to?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ He shrugged. ‘I just mean sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing.’
‘It does matter, I’m afraid, Joseph. I’m sorry for you, really, if you’re depressed, but it’s hardly an excuse. What you’ve done is thoroughly dishonest, and highly illegal too, I’m sure.’
Behind him Bel and Johnno were preparing to go through to the dinner table.
‘Look, now is not the time. We’ll talk about it in the office tomorrow, okay? I just – I need to –’ I inclined my head towards my friends.
Joseph stood up, quick to grasp his reprieve. ‘Of course.’
‘Stay and finish your drink if you like.’ I stood too. Despite my pity for him, I couldn’t deny the fact he made my skin crawl.
‘No, seriously, I should get home anyway. My parents will wonder where I am.’ He put out a clammy hand to shake mine. My graze smarted where our flesh met. We both winced.
‘I can’t believe you followed me all the way here just to confess,’ I said, following him towards the door. ‘It was brave, though, I’ll give you that.’
‘I didn’t follow you.’
‘What?’
‘No, seriously, I didn’t.’
My blood ran cold. ‘That wasn’t you running behind me in the street?’
‘No, seriously. Don’t get cross with me again.’
If he said seriously again, I would scream. ‘How did you know where I was then?’
He dug deep in his coat pocket and produced it like a trophy
, though the colour mottling his pale pudgy face belied his emotions. ‘This is yours, isn’t it?’
My Filofax. The Filofax that had disappeared last week. I took it wordlessly.
‘The pub address is in it,’ he explained. ‘I’m just a bit of a detective, that’s all, Maggie. Seriously.’
‘Right. A detective.’ My mind was flitting about like a demented dragonfly. ‘So you weren’t – behind me when I was walking just now? Trying to catch me up?’
He shook his head. ‘No. I got a cab almost right to the door.’
The thought my stalker was real and not just a figment of my overactive imagination, coupled with the knowledge that he had been so close to me, was nearly enough to send me into the loos with some of Bel’s more excitable friends; those who were rejecting food for other delights. But I restrained myself. I sat at the table and pretended fervently that everything was fine, all the while feeling flushed and panicky. I talked to Bel’s devastated mother Lynn about how cheap and easy, honestly, it was to fly halfway round the world. At one point I thoughtlessly mentioned carbon footprints, but luckily Lynn thought they were a type of shoe. I chatted to Nigel about Bristol University and all the nice girls he’d met, and the fact he preferred the nasty ones.
From time to time Alex crossed my mind, but I just had another sip of wine and made my mind go blank; not letting myself dwell on him or Joseph Blake or pounding feet that got ever nearer. Or the fact that Bel was leaving England tomorrow for God knew how long. I sipped the wine and forced myself to think firmly of nice things like being at Pendarlin or seeing Seb, and after another drink I started to relax for the first time that day, until eventually I realised I was having a lovely time.
Then Charlie and Sally walked in, Sally in an ill-fitting wrap dress that strained over her generous bosom. I pulled a face at her.
‘He insisted on giving me a lift,’ Sally hissed on her way over to Bel. ‘Sorry.’
I thought about hiding, but Charlie, all blazer and tan loafers, intercepted me at the bar, where he redeemed himself a little by buying me a drink. I considered him over the rim of my glass for a long moment.
‘Why have you got it in for me?’ I was impressed by my own serenity, sipping my drink elegantly.
‘I haven’t got it in for you, darling, I really haven’t.’ Charlie smoothed back his hair, that bloody stupid signet ring catching the candlelight. ‘Don’t be so paranoid. I just don’t want to lose you, that’s all. There are so very bloody few who can actually do their job, Maggie. You’re the best I’ve got.’
‘Can you get me another drink then?’ I waved my half-empty glass at him. ‘It’s a nice glass, isn’t it?’ I gazed at it. ‘I think Alex and I had some glasses like this once.’ Before he threw them all at me.
‘I think you might have had enough.’
I gazed at him now. ‘Don’t be silly, Charlie. Silly-billy Charlie. I’ve only had about two. Most certainly not enough.’
‘Despite what you may think, Maggie darling,’ he drawled as I attempted to focus on him, ‘I do care about you – really.’
‘Rubbish.’ Someone bumped my back and I turned, tipping my entire drink down Charlie’s front in the process.
‘Whoops.’ I dabbed his shirt ineffectively with a beer mat. ‘Sorry about that. Quite a nice effect though.’ I stood back to admire the stain. ‘Sort of – marbled.’
‘For God’s sake, Maggie.’ He grabbed my hand. ‘This is pure silk.’
I laughed, happy to know it was possible to rattle Charlie. Then I had a thought. ‘Why didn’t you tell me Joseph was Lyons’s nephew?’
‘You did know. But it’s irrelevant. He deserves a chance.’
‘Charlie, you and I both know that if he wasn’t Lyons’s blood, you wouldn’t give him the time of day.’ I leaned forward conspiratorially, and tapped him carefully on the shoulder to emphasise my point. ‘After all, he’s not blonde and big-boobed, is he now?’ I paused to reflect. ‘Well, he is blond, I suppose.’
Charlie stared at me with dispassion; then he smiled roguishly. ‘No, and more’s the pity.’
‘You know, Charlie, you really are incot— incomp—’ I couldn’t seem to grasp the word. ‘Terrible,’ I finished lamely.
He waved a fifty-pound note at the barman. ‘Top us up, there’s a good chap. Call me an old fool, Maggie –’
‘You ol’ fool.’
He ignored me, ‘– but I feel sorry for that boy.’
‘Oh come on, Charlie,’ I spluttered. ‘Bene— bene—’ The word just wouldn’t come.
‘Benny who?’ he frowned. ‘Spit it out.’
‘Benevolence is hardly your forte.’ I swayed backwards triumphantly – and then, luckily, after a second or two, forwards again.
Bored now, Charlie’s hooded eyes darted over my shoulder to see what better prospects lay in store. ‘I really must go and clean up, darling. Blake’s got a bit of a dark past, that’s all I’m at liberty to say. His family are rather desperate, and we’re giving him a chance. But don’t be taken in by him.’
‘What do you mean?’ I suddenly felt rather more sober.
‘Let’s just say he can be a bit –’
‘What? Disingenuous?’
‘You managed that big word, didn’t you? Clever Maggie.’
I glared at him. At least I hoped it was a glare. I was having some trouble actually seeing.
‘Let’s not split hairs, shall we?’ Charlie ran a predatory finger down my cheek. ‘You’re very sexy when you’re cross, you know.’ And he moved off like a sleek cruiser through a throng of pedalos, a nubile blonde in his sights.
The music was getting louder, the pub crowd more rowdy. Bel’s guests were leaving the table now, mingling with the few dancers by the speakers. Digging my phone out of my bag, I squinted at it nervously. It was text-free, thank God. Before I could think about it too hard, I rang Seb, but he didn’t answer so I left a message.
‘If you’ve blocked, can you come down? I want you to meet my very best friend in the world, she’s called Bel. And I’d love to see you, lovely Seb. Whoops.’ Someone knocked the phone out of my hand. I retrieved it from the sticky floor without quite falling over, fortunately. ‘Are you still there? Did I mention that Bel’s my very best friend?’
Half an hour later I was contemplating a spin round the dance floor with Bel when I looked up to see Seb grinning at me from the bar. My tummy went all funny as I realised how pleased I was to see him, and how relieved I was to be pleased. He waved and mimed a drink and I waved my glass back.
‘There’s Seb.’ Bel poked me in the ribs. ‘He’s very hot, isn’t he?’
‘Do you think so?’ I said nonchalantly.
‘Why – don’t you?’ she teased. ‘Nothing like Alex.’ She caught my eye. ‘Sorry, sorry. Forget I said that.’
‘I will. I do quite like him.’
‘I’m glad.’ Bel hugged me impulsively. ‘God, I’m so pleased you’re finally getting over that idiot. Promise me you won’t go there again.’
‘I won’t.’ I smiled foolishly until I registered her words. I yelled over Blondie, ‘Sorry, what do you mean “getting” over him?’ Then I stumbled slightly as someone pirouetted past me. ‘Whoops. Sorry.’
‘Honestly, Mag,’ Bel looked all serious suddenly, ‘I think you ought to take it a bit easy now. Especially now I’m not going to be around to keep an eye on you.’
My head was starting to spin now. ‘Explain “easy”, can you?’
But Johnno’s mates from work struck up a chorus of ‘For they are jolly good fellows’ and everyone joined in, and cheered a lot, and then Bel got all tearful as Nigel presented her and Johnno with a brand-new digital camera that we’d all chipped in for – ‘so you can email us on your great travels’ – and then Bel started on about how Sydney really wasn’t that far away, and her poor mother burst into the tears that had been brewing all night long. And I felt myself get quite teary too; God knew what I was going to do without the girl I’d shared every
thing with since we’d learned hospital corners at Brownies. (Bel’s were terrible, mine immaculate.)
And then Seb was behind me, his arms around me, and I felt the heavy cosh of alcohol strike me round the head, clutch me in its velvet hold. I leaned into his body with sudden exhaustion. ‘You called the police yesterday, didn’t you?’ I mumbled.
‘Yes,’ he murmured back. ‘Someone’s got to keep an eye on you, babe.’
And the thought made me want to cry. ‘Take me home, Seb, please,’ I whispered in his ear. ‘Would you mind?’
‘I’d be honoured, Maggie. Do you want to say goodbye first?’
‘I’ve got to take them to the airport tomorrow. I can’t face another farewell now.’
And so he drove me home in his sleek car, and as we travelled across Blackfriars Bridge, the OXO tower looking like a neon rocket about to blast off into the electric fug that hid London, I had a brilliant thought.
‘After I drop Bel off tomorrow evening, I’m going straight on to Cornwall.’ I raised my head from the leather headrest to peer at him. ‘You could come too, if you like.’
Before he could answer, I nodded off, and when we arrived at mine, Seb half-carried me upstairs and I passed out straight away.
So I missed the message on my answer-phone. The message about the stranger lurking by my door.
Chapter Twenty-Two
In and out of troubled drunken sleep, I slipped between horrid dreams where Joseph tried to kiss me all covered in blood while Seb watched us intently, except he looked like Charlie, his hooded eyes malevolent. And then I dreamed of Alex, laughing at the kitchen table, hollows for eyes, the night I’d come back early from filming in Cardiff and found him bare-chested and snorting grams of cocaine with his old college mate Riff, not long after our first Christmas together.
Bad Friends Page 18