by Susan Lewis
‘Does he ever hear from her now?’ Sandy wondered.
‘Not that I know of,’ Jodi answered. ‘She tried to keep in touch at first, I think, but he never answered her letters. God only knows where she is now. I think she left Bosnia and went on somewhere else, but I don’t remember anyone ever saying where. We were all dead certain she’d come back once she’d got it out of her system, but it doesn’t look like she’s going to.’
They both looked round as a sudden commotion started up in the well and getting up went to see what was happening.
‘They’re mad,’ Jodi laughed, when they saw Zelda in a matching midnight blue head band and track suit, trying to push Michael off an exercise bike. ‘Completely mad.’
The others were all coming out of their offices and laughing as Zelda cuffed Michael round the ear and Craig launched into a hilarious Tour de France commentary to encourage Michael’s exhausting uphill pedal. The bike was outside Zelda’s office on the upper level, not far away, but Michael’s back was turned so Sandy couldn’t see his face.
Nevertheless, it felt strange to think of him as the man Jodi had just been talking about, the one who had been so broken up when his girlfriend left him that he’d never been seriously involved with anyone since. He must be over it by now, though, because like Jodi said it had happened at least three, maybe even four, years ago. It was just that he hadn’t met the right person since. That was all. Nothing to do with him still carrying a torch for Michelle Rowe.
‘Oh, there goes the phone,’ Jodi tutted, starting to turn back into the office.
‘It’s OK,’ Sandy said, ‘I’ll get it.’
‘Jodi, get the man a stretcher!’ Harry shouted.
As Jodi skipped off to join in the fun, Sandy went to answer the phone. ‘Hello, Michael McCann’s office,’ she said, reaching for her Post-its and pen.
‘Hi. It’s Kate,’ the voice at the other end said. ‘Is that Jodi?’
Sandy was silent for a moment as she realized this must be the Kate Jodi had mentioned, Michael’s current girlfriend. ‘Uh, no, it’s Sandy,’ she said.
‘Oh, I don’t think we’ve met,’ Kate said. ‘Are you new?’
‘I started today,’ Sandy answered.
‘Really? Then I hope it works out well for you. Is Michael there? I’m in a taxi, so we could get cut off any minute.’
Sandy was quiet again. Then, looking towards the empty doorway and feeling herself start to perspire she said, ‘No, I’m afraid Michael’s not here. Can I take a message?’
‘Yes. Tell him I’m pissed off he didn’t call me before I left earlier, but he can reach me at the Hotel Miramar after seven o’clock.’
‘If he rings in I’ll pass the message on,’ Sandy said and rang off just as Jodi came back through the door.
‘Why don’t you head off home now?’ Jodi suggested. ‘I’ve still got a few things to clear up here, but you must be shagged out by now, this being your first day and all.’
Sandy looked at her, then turned quickly away as her throat suddenly tightened and the hunger pangs in her stomach intensified to pain. Kate Feather, and what she had just done, was abruptly eclipsed by the terrible reality of her immediate plight. If only she could stay here for the night, at least then she wouldn’t have to worry about how she was going to get back the next day – and maybe, just maybe, someone had left some biscuits or crisps in their desk …
Not seeing what else she could do, she reached for her coat and started to put it on. The desperation in her heart was making her light-headed and strange inside. In a way it was like it was happening to someone else. Maybe that was something she should hang on to, maybe she should pretend this wasn’t her at all; if nothing else, it might help keep the horrible claws of hunger at bay. And it shouldn’t be hard to pretend, not when almost nothing about today had seemed real anyway. It had all been so different from what she had expected, so exciting and exhilarating, and she hadn’t ever felt so happy nor filled with eagerness and hope for the future. It was just too horrible to think that it was all over already, but if she didn’t find some money for her fare in the morning it would be. It seemed so ludicrous and petty that she couldn’t scrape enough together for a single, never mind a return ticket to Barking, but she couldn’t. She’d tried all weekend to think of a way round this, but still she hadn’t come up with any answers and time was running out. A voice inside her started to rage, though against what and at whom she didn’t really know. All she knew was that she’d never been in a state like this before; there had always been a sister to borrow from, or a brother to cadge a lift from, and never in her life had she had to go without food.
She looked at Jodi who was busy now on the phone. If only she could find the courage to ask. Five pounds would be enough. It would get her a McDonald’s tonight and a return ticket for tomorrow. But what did she do after that? Who was she going to borrow five pounds from next?
Her eyes fell to Jodi’s bag sitting open on the floor beside her desk. It would be so easy to knock something over, go down to retrieve it and take the purse while she was there. She had never stolen anything in her life, but she had never been this desperate or hungry in her life.
Feeling sick with shame that she had even considered it, she tore her eyes from the bag, picked up her own and started for the door. She was going to have to think of something, though, because she just couldn’t bear the idea of never coming back here now. She belonged here, it was where she was meant to be. These people were her new family and already she was making plans for how she was going to work her way up so she could become someone Michael would be proud to love.
She glanced along the upper circle and for a moment toyed with the idea of talking to Zelda, but Michael was probably with her and Sandy would rather die than have him know what a predicament she was in.
She rode down in the lift with Harry and Thea. They were asking how she had enjoyed her first day and if she thought she could put up with them any more. Sandy laughed and told them she would try, while wanting to cry. When they reached the lobby she got out while the others continued down to the car-park.
Her journey home passed in a blur of hunger and despair, as the crowds whizzed by on their way home to families and hot food on the table. They would probably be shocked if they knew what a state she was in, because she certainly didn’t look destitute – not yet, anyway. Those she noticed the most were the lonely, bedraggled figures on station platforms or sitting huddled in shop doorways, begging. At least she had a roof over her head, but that still didn’t provide her with something to eat and how long was the roof going to last if she couldn’t keep up with her job?
It was just before eight when finally she let herself into the cold, cheerless little room on the first floor of what might once have been a fairly grand house. There were four more doors on the landing, two to other bedsits, one to the toilet and another to a shower room with cracked and stained tiles and a mouldy plastic curtain.
Closing the door behind her she didn’t bother to flick on the light as she covered her face with her hands and started to cry. She’d spent all weekend shut in this room crying, as she tried to think what to do – it had changed nothing then and it was going to change nothing now. But she couldn’t stop. She was so hungry and lonely that she just didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t even go home because she didn’t have the money for a ticket.
Tears streamed down her face as her breath caught on the terrible fear welling inside her. Her body was stiff with cold. Her head throbbed and her stomach was growling for food. She wondered if she was going to starve to death here in this horrid little room with its chipped sink and water heater in one corner, single bed with no sheets or blankets in another and a damp, musty old cupboard where her clothes were hanging in the other. She thought about Michael and her tears grew thick with shame at the way she had sat at her desk day-dreaming about a fairy-tale romance and story-book rise in her career, when this was the reality of her life. What a miserable, l
oathsome little fool she was to think that a man like Michael McCann would even consider having someone like her in his life. And what the hell had made her lie like that to his girlfriend, when she was sure to get found out and was probably never going to see him again anyway, so what was the point in trying to break up his relationship?
She pressed her hands to her face, seething and sobbing with fury and frustration. She hated it here; she hated the traffic that roared across the flyover outside her window; she hated the wallpaper that was peeling off the walls; she hated the stripes of light across the floor from the Venetian blinds, the electric rings caked with other people’s food, the paint-stained carpet, the neighbours who ignored her and the mattress on which she had to lie huddled in her coat for warmth. But most of all she hated herself for being so stupid as to have thought she could come to London on seven hundred and fifty-three pounds and survive.
Hearing the main door downstairs slam closed, she sank to her knees and sobbed as though her heart would break. Another door slammed and she heard someone moving about in the room below. It was probably the woman she’d seen coming out of there on Saturday, the one who had said hello and smiled as she passed. The thought of a friendly face made her cry even harder. Why the hell hadn’t she thought to share a flat with someone, rather than be here on her own like this? If she had flatmates she might have friends and someone to borrow money from. But it was too late even to go looking for somewhere to share now, for she’d given all her money to the landlord of this miserable dump.
By the time she finally dragged herself over to the bed her face was ravaged by despair and her whole body was juddering with the aftermath of tears. She felt weak and cold, and so hungry she couldn’t bear it, but she was a little calmer now, too exhausted perhaps to care much any more. But she did care. She loved her job and the people who worked there, and she wanted to go back more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. So somehow she was going to have to find a way out of this mess, because if she didn’t she really was going to end up begging in doorways or starving to death. And now she’d met Michael and seen what her life could be like, she just couldn’t let that happen.
‘God, is it that time already?’ Michael said, looking at his watch as Zelda walked into his office and sank her ample body into the sofa.
‘No, it was that time an hour ago,’ she responded, dusting something out of her substantial cleavage and putting her feet up on the coffee table.
Michael dropped his pen and stretched. ‘Jodi still here?’ He yawned, only just noticing that it was pitch dark in the well.
Zelda nodded and enjoyed a yawn of her own. ‘She’s copying the final drafts for Vic and Ally,’ she answered. ‘We’ll bike them over to the National first thing tomorrow. What was that?’ she said cocking an ear. ‘A gin? Och, laddie, you know what it takes to make an old lady happy.’
‘Coming right up.’ Michael laughed, getting to his feet. ‘By the way, I spoke to Alex Drew just now,’ he said, walking round his desk to the bar he kept in the bottom of the bookcase. ‘Gloria’s got one tit bigger than the other he tells me.’
Zelda bubbled with laughter. ‘Oh dear,’ she said, tucking a wisp of her cherry-red hair behind one ear. ‘No wonder she didn’t want to take off her top. Still, the main thing is she fulfilled her contract and I’m sure with the kind of technology they’ve got today they’ll manage to straighten things out in the edit.’
Laughing, Michael passed her a drink, then turned back to fix one for himself. ‘Brandy and coke?’ he said to Jodi as she came in the door.
‘Does the Queen fart?’ she responded, collapsing beside Zelda on the sofa.
‘Does she?’ Zelda asked, turning to look at her.
‘Is anyone else still here?’ Michael said.
‘Everyone else went home hours ago,’ Jodi told him. ‘God, my feet are killing me,’ and kicking off her boots she put her feet up next to Zelda’s. ‘What’s that perfume you’re wearing, Zelda?’ she said. ‘It smells like a toilet.’
‘Dettol,’ Zelda answered. ‘I cut my hand on that blasted exercise bike. I’m sending it back, by the way, it goes too fast. Michael, are you going to the screening of Miraculous tomorrow night?’
‘I don’t know, am I, Jodi?’ he asked, handing her a drink.
‘It’s in the diary, but it’s clashing with something else. Can’t remember what, off the top of my head.’
‘Well, if you are,’ Zelda said as Michael carried a Scotch on the rocks back to his chair, ‘can you take your mother? I promised I would, but I’ve got to fly up to Manchester tomorrow to see Pru Duffield.’
‘No problem,’ he said. ‘Did Kate ring, by the way?’ he said to Jodi.
Jodi shook her head. ‘I told you, you had to call her before one o’clock or she was on her way to Brussells.’
‘She’s in Brussells?’ he said.
Jodi nodded.
He grinned. ‘An evening at home on my own,’ he said. ‘I can’t remember the last time.’
Jodi looked at him in amazement. ‘It’s nearly nine o’clock, Michael,’ she said. ‘The evening’s already over. So shall we get on with this?’
Michael leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk. ‘So,’ he said, stifling a yawn, ‘what did you think of Zelda’s little lame duck?’
Zelda blinked and took a large mouthful of gin.
‘Actually, I quite liked her,’ Jodi answered.
‘Why do you sound so surprised?’ Zelda objected.
‘Well you’ve got to admit, she’s a bit weird,’ Jodi responded.
‘She’s not weird at all. She’s just shy.’
‘Weird,’ Jodi insisted. ‘And OK, shy. But given a chance, she could probably turn out all right, despite the queer accent. She’s certainly not as thick as some we’ve had. She’s got a mega-crush on you, by the way.’
Michael’s eyebrows went up.
Jodi chuckled. ‘Look at him, pretending he didn’t notice,’ she said to Zelda. ‘Honestly, Michael, you’re easier to see through than Sharon Stone’s knickers.’
Michael looked at Zelda. ‘Where does she get this stuff?’ he asked.
Zelda blinked. ‘You, I expect,’ she answered. ‘And speaking of …’
‘Before we get off the subject, there’s something I should mention,’ Jodi interrupted. ‘I tried calling the numbers Sandy gave me earlier, you know, to check out if they were kosher …’
‘Why did you do that?’ Zelda protested. ‘She’s hardly a criminal …’
‘Zelda, there was a time in her life when Myra Hindley was just the girl next door,’ Jodi pointed out.
Zelda choked on her drink. ‘Surely you’re not suggesting …’
‘No,’ Jodi interrupted. ‘All I’m saying is there’s something about our Sandy that’s not quite adding up, or isn’t sitting quite right. So I just thought I’d try the numbers, see who answered.’
‘And?’ Michael prompted.
‘One just rang and rang, the other was a greengrocer in Ealing.’
Zelda looked sheepishly at Michael, whose amusement at the interest in Sandy was fading fast. ‘I told you, she was sent by the Lynne Masters agency,’ Zelda said defensively. ‘We’ve always had good people from them in the past.’
‘Zelda, the last time we took in one of your waifs we almost ended up in court,’ Michael reminded her.
‘Ah, yes, but the last one didn’t come through an agency,’ Zelda pointed out. ‘Sandy did, and I know Lynne Masters, she wouldn’t send us anyone duff.’
Michael looked at Jodi. ‘What do you think?’ he said.
Jodi shrugged. ‘I reckon we should give her a go,’ she answered. ‘I mean, she’s here now, so we might as well.’
‘OK,’ Michael said. ‘But the first sign of anything untoward, she’s out.’
‘God, he’s so hard,’ Jodi commented.
‘Ruthless,’ Zelda agreed.
‘Can I go home now?’ Jodi asked Michael.
‘Ju
st try that other number again,’ he said. ‘The one that rang and rang.’
Jodi padded obediently off to her office, rooted out the phone number and dialled it again. This time she got a reply.
‘Well, it seems to be where she lives,’ she said, carrying her coat into Michael’s office where he and Zelda were by now talking about other things. ‘Sandy,’ she reminded them when they looked at her blankly.
‘Did you speak to her?’ Zelda asked.
Jodi shook her head. ‘A woman answered and said yes, Sandy Paull lived there, but it wasn’t convenient for her to come to the phone right now.’
Michael and Zelda looked at each other. ‘He thinks that’s sinister,’ Zelda said to Jodi.
‘Don’t you?’ he asked.
‘She might have been in the bath,’ Zelda pointed out.
Michael shrugged. ‘Did you say it was you calling?’ he asked Jodi.
‘Yep,’ she replied, ‘and the message I got back was that Sandy might not be able to make it until lunch-time tomorrow, but that we weren’t to worry she would definitely be coming.’
Michael looked from Zelda to Jodi and back again.
Jodi had seen that look before. ‘Duck,’ she advised Zelda.
Michael’s face was deadly serious. ‘If she turns out to be a plant from another agency,’ he said, ‘a thief, a stooge from the press, or God forbid someone from Ted Forgon, then I’m warning you now, heads will roll,’ and getting to his feet, he took his coat from the stand, picked up his briefcase and walked out of the room.