by Isabel Wolff
‘No.’
‘You mean it was just a kiss?’
‘Yes. A goodnight kiss. That’s all it was.’
‘Where?’
‘In his car.’
‘No. Cheek or lips?’
‘Oh. Lips, since you ask.’ I felt my insides suffuse with warmth at the memory.
‘Blimey,’ she said again. ‘Then what?’
‘Then I thanked him for a lovely evening, opened the door and got out.’
‘Didn’t you ask him in?’
‘No—I didn’t feel it was right.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I was in turmoil after the conversation we’d just had. But I’ll be seeing him again.’
‘When?’
‘On Friday. He phoned me last night and asked me to keep it free.’
‘I bet he wanted to do more than kiss you,’ Daisy added knowingly as she sipped her coffee.
‘Yes. I think he did. In fact, I know he did—although it’s much too soon. I mean, I’ve only met him three times, Daisy. And in any case, he thinks I’m holding back because I’m still getting over Alexander.’
‘Aren’t you?’
‘Well, yes—and no. I’m not heartbroken about Alexander, I’m just angry and disappointed. I told David what happened.’
‘Good. I bet he was horrified.’
‘He was, rather.’
‘So you’re getting closer to him?’
‘I am.’
‘Things with your photographer are developing then,’ she giggled. ‘You’re clicking with him?’ I rolled my eyes. ‘And did you flirt with him?’
‘No. I find it impossible.’ I lowered my voice to a barely audible whisper. ‘I mean, how do you flirt with someone whom you once caused GBH?’
‘Hmm. That would be rather…inhibiting.’
‘It is. But I think that’s partly why he likes me, because he thinks I’m so “mysterious”. But I’m not. I’m just sitting there in an agony of apprehension. But, ironically, that’s why he’s attracted to me. Because he finds me, what was it? “Intriguing.”’
Daisy shook her head. ‘He’s attracted to you because he’s attracted to you, Miranda. Anyway, back to the matter in hand. How to tell him… How are you going to tell him?’
I groaned quietly. ‘I don’t know. The more I see him, the more I want to tell him—and yet, at the same time, the less I want to, in case he never sees me again. And he actually talked about it this time, Daisy. About what happened. So I asked him whether he could ever forgive the person who’d done it, and he replied that he didn’t think that he could.’
‘But if he knew it was you—he might.’
‘I don’t know. I can’t assume that. It’s such a big thing. But I need him to forgive me because I’m…’
‘Falling in love with him?’
I stared at her. ‘Maybe. Yes, maybe I am. I find him very…attractive.’
‘Then wait until he’s fallen in love with you.’
I sipped my cappuccino, momentarily tempted; then I put down my cup. ‘I can’t. It would be dishonest.’
‘Yes,’ she sighed. ‘You’re right. Of course you are. He’d feel that you’d deceived him. Well—you have a moral dilemma on your hands.’ A silence descended, then the waitress brought the bill.
‘Do you know what else David said?’ I went on as I reached for my bag. ‘That his father’s work didn’t even involve animal experiments. I don’t know why Jimmy did it. I just don’t understand. And I really need to.’
‘Then ask him,’ she said simply. ‘Write to him at the House of Commons.’
‘But the letter would get read by his press officer.’
‘Then send it to his home.’
‘His wife might see it.’
‘Then just ask to see him at work, and speak to him in private.’
‘I know what would happen if I did. He’d refuse to see me, and, if I insisted, then he’d accuse me of trying to blackmail him. He’s got powerful friends, Daisy. He could go to the press and say that I was harassing him—he’d totally discredit me. He’d tell them that I used to be infatuated with him—which is true. He’d tell them that I wrote him these pathetic letters saying that I’d do anything for him.’
‘But you were only sixteen then, Miranda!’
‘So what? The tabloids won’t care. But the point is that I don’t want to see Jimmy again, Daisy. This is about my conscience—not his. Not that he seems to have one—the lucky bastard. It must make his life rather easy.’
‘You’re very hard on yourself, Miranda,’ Daisy said suddenly. She glanced left and right to make sure we couldn’t be overheard. ‘I mean, it’s not as though you made that bomb—is it?’ she whispered. ‘You didn’t even know there was one. You genuinely thought it was a video.’
‘That’s what Jimmy said. He said that it was a video about neurological experiments on vervet monkeys, to prick Professor White’s conscience—and I had no reason to doubt that’s what it was.’
‘I can understand you feeling awful at being involved,’ Daisy went on, ‘but you weren’t responsible for what happened so I don’t see why you feel quite so guilt-racked.’
‘For the simple reason that I didn’t speak out. I knew, absolutely, that I should tell someone—my parents, a teacher, or the police; but, in order to protect myself, I kept quiet—and that’s why I feel so bad. And my silence must have made it far worse for David because he never got closure on what happened to him. He still hasn’t. That’s obvious.’ We handed the waitress our credit cards.
‘But why did Jimmy think he could get away with it?’ Daisy whispered.
‘Because he knew he was above suspicion.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he’d publicly condemned violence so many times. He’d written articles in the local paper saying it was wrong, and attacking the ALF, so everyone thought him principled and brave. That’s what he used to say to me too. He said that better treatment of animals would only come about through a hearts and minds campaign.’
‘So he’d put himself above board?’
‘Yes. But I wasn’t above board, because of my history. And I was terrified that the police would come looking for me—I kept waiting for the knock on the door. But they didn’t come—perhaps because they knew I’d never done anything violent. In any case, there were enough genuine extremists round there to keep them busy—not that it ever led to an arrest.’
‘What if you went to one of the newspapers about Jimmy?’
‘Then I’d automatically be shopping myself. I want to tell David first, and see how he reacts. And if he decides to go to lawyers then I can’t stop him. But it has to be his choice.’
‘You are brave,’ Daisy said as we stood up. ‘This could have terrible consequences for you.’
‘Yes,’ I said quietly. ‘I know. But I also know that I simply have to tell David. And I do want to—and equally I don’t want to. It’s like having one foot on the brake and the other on the accelerator. It’s psychological stalemate.’
‘Well, I’m sure you’ll find a way.’ But when? ‘Anyway,’ Daisy went on, ‘can we just have a look downstairs before I fly back to the office? I’ve got to try and find a present for Nigel’s fortieth.’ We went down the wooden spiral staircase to the ground floor. ‘Maybe I’ll get him a really nice rug. He is going to have a party, by the way,’ she added as we flipped through the pile of kelims. ‘You know that old friend of his you met at the barbecue? Alan? The barrister? He phoned me on Friday to discuss Nigel’s birthday. So I just said that I’d be taking Nigel out to dinner somewhere, but he said that he thought Nigel really ought to have a proper party—a surprise party—and that he’d arrange it with that other friend of theirs, Jon. So I said that was fine and Alan phoned me this morning to say they’ve booked the venue.’
‘Where?’
‘At the zoo.’
‘The zoo?’
‘Yes, you can have parties there, apparently. I’ve never been t
o one myself,’ she went on, as we looked at the glass-ware. ‘It’s going to be on the day itself—August the second. They were very lucky that it was available at such short notice.’
‘Are you going to arrange it?’
She shook her head. ‘The zoo do it all, which is great as I haven’t got time. All I’m doing is sending the invites—I sneaked the addresses from Nigel’s Filofax. I’m asking about seventy people.’
‘I hope you don’t have to ask that colleague of his, Mary. I thought she was rather unpleasant at the barbecue,’ I added, though I wasn’t going to tell Daisy why.
‘I’m afraid I will have to ask her,’ Daisy replied. ‘She works quite closely with him, and she seems to have the ear of their new head of department, so Nigel likes to keep in with her—but I agree, she’s a bit of a cow. You can invite David, if you like,’ she added, as we looked at the standard lamps.
‘Can I?’
‘Of course. Nigel won’t mind, and it’ll be nicer for you as I’ll be pretty busy, and anyway, I’d like to meet him. I know so much about him. In fact—Christ, Miranda—just think: I know things about David that he doesn’t even know himself.’
‘I will ask him, then,’ I said. ‘Thanks. After all, if it wasn’t for you, Daisy, I wouldn’t have met him.’
‘Is that right?’
‘Yes, because you recommended me to Caroline—’ Trigger was the trigger, I suddenly realized, ‘—which is how I met Jimmy again. And then you encouraged me to look for David.’
‘And you found him!’
‘Yes.’ My heart turned over. ‘I did. Anyway, I’m glad Nigel’s having a party—it would be a shame not to.’
‘And obviously, I’m not going to bring up the marriage issue before then,’ Daisy went on, with surprising calm. ‘Because, well, it would spoil his birthday, wouldn’t it, if we were having a crisis.’
‘It’s up to you.’
‘And what’s another two weeks, when you think about it?’
‘Hmm.’ We finished browsing and made our way outside. ‘That’s where the self-defence classes are, by the way,’ she said, as the traffic roared past. ‘Over there, in Howland Street. You will come this week, won’t you?’
‘Yes, sure.’
‘Marcus is a great teacher. And although you’re not very likely to be mugged again, I think it’s good to have these techniques up your sleeve. Anyway, I’d better dash. I’ve got an underwater theme party to organize and I’ve got to find some mermaids’ tails for the waitresses.’
‘And I have to attend to a nymphomaniac cat.’
Animal Crackers has been getting huge ratings—seven million—which is great for business. By Wednesday afternoon I’d taken six new bookings. If I have seven a week, I’m fine. With eight I’m in profit. Nine and I’m laughing. My money worries have begun to subside. Unlike my mother’s.
‘The cash-flow’s dire,’ she said, when she called for a chat at six. ‘So I’ve decided I’m definitely going to do the Llama Psychotherapy during the week. I’m going to call it “Llama Karma”. I’ve already put it on my website and I’ve had some leaflets printed up. I put some in the post to you yesterday.’
‘How much will you charge?’
‘A hundred for the day, to include lunch. The local radio people are interviewing me about it but what I really need is national publicity. Do you know anyone on one of the broad-sheets?’
‘I’m afraid I don’t. I’m not in that loop. Oh, I do know a young guy on the Independent on Sunday,’ I suddenly remembered. ‘He’s on the diary, but he’d tell you who you could contact for some feature coverage.’
‘Are you sure you can’t get me on Animal Crackers?’ she asked plaintively.
‘You know I can’t, Mum. I don’t want to annoy them by even asking again, to be honest.’
‘Well, if there’s anyone you know who’s really stressed—anyone at all—then tell them to call me and they can come and spend the day with the boys.’
Ten minutes later, Dad phoned—it’s funny how he and Mum often phone within minutes of each other. Perhaps they’re more in tune than they realize.
Dad sounded depressed. ‘I’ve had the chairman giving me an ear-bashing about the cost of paving the parking lot, and hiring green-keeping staff, and we’ve only had five new members this week. Plus the golf pro has resigned because he thinks the club isn’t going to work out. Plus I sent your mother a friendly card, and she returned it, unopened.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘I just don’t understand. You said she was “fine” about me coming down here. But she clearly isn’t. I can’t even get her to acknowledge me, let alone be civil. She pretends not to know me. It’s absurd.’
‘Then why don’t you just turn up at the house?’
‘Jesus, no! She’d probably call the police. I didn’t exactly expect her to hang up a “Welcome” sign for me; but I didn’t think she’d be so openly hostile either.’
‘Well, she’s not the most forgiving person in the world.’
‘Tell me about it. You know, Miranda, maybe I’ve made a big mistake in coming back,’ he went on. ‘I mean, I’ve been here less than a month and already I’m so wound up. I’m just so stressed,’ he added wearily. Ah…
By seven, the puppy party crowd had arrived. Lily had come in brandishing two bottles of champagne to celebrate the fact that Moi! had won Magazine of the Year the night before.
‘Let’s have a proper party!’ she said. ‘You don’t mind do you, teach’?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘That’s fine by me.’ I nipped round the corner and bought some crisps and olives. Then we all sat there sipping Laurent-Perrier, playing Pass the Puppy.
‘Couldn’t we go outside with them?’ Lily suddenly asked. ‘Yes,’ Phyllis agreed, with another large swig. Her papery cheeks were quite pink. ‘Couldn’t we go outside?’
‘Yes, Miranda, please, please, please—can’t we go outside?’ they chorused.
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Why not? There’s plenty of light left, and we could do some basic disobedience.’
‘Shouldn’t that be “obedience”?’ said Sue.
My head was swimming slightly as I reached for Herman’s lead. ‘Yes. Obedience. That’s what I said.’ As we left the Mews, the chiropractor grinned at us as he got into his car.
‘It’s the puppy posse!’ Lily called out.
‘Now, do tell me more about your film stunts,’ Phyllis asked Marcus as they strolled along in front of me. He’d gallantly offered her his arm.
‘No, Phyllis,’ he protested. ‘It’s too boring talking about work.’
‘But your work isn’t boring at all. Please tell us,’ she insisted.
‘Yes, do, Marcus,’ said Lily. ‘Anyway, I need to know because I might do an article about you.’
‘What do you enjoy most?’ Phyllis asked, as a small boy stopped to stroke the puppies. ‘Horse-riding stunts?’
‘No, horses aren’t really my thing. My favourites are aerial stunts—parachuting, flying, sky-diving, hang-gliding—anything like that. I like stair falls, and motorbike skids; and I do enjoy a good car crash.’ I noticed that the little boy was giving Marcus odd looks. ‘I also quite enjoy being blown up when I get the chance,’ he added. ‘Air rams are brilliant for that.’
‘What are air rams?’ asked Phyllis, enthralled, as we walked on.
‘They’re nitrogen-powered footplates. You just step onto them and they blow you right into the air. We used them in Private Ryan—we got some fabulous explosions.’
Phyllis was sighing with happiness.
‘What’s your best stunt ever?’ Lily asked, as we passed The Queens pub.
‘Do I have to tell you?’ he groaned.
‘Yes, you do,’ she commanded.
‘Okay,’ he sighed. ‘But only as you’re asking. It was a high level fight I once did.’
‘How high?’ asked Phyllis.
‘Well, you know that statue of Christ outside Rio de Janeiro.’
�
�Jesus!’ Lily exclaimed.
‘Yes—that one. I had to climb up into the head via a small hole and cling to the crown of thorns. Then I walked out along an arm, two and a half thousand feet above the city and had to fight this other stuntman.’
Phyllis had clapped her hand to her chest in an ecstasy of terror. I was worried that she was going to collapse.
‘Did you have a safety harness?’ Lily asked, her eyes goggling.
‘No.’
‘Did you fall?’ Phyllis asked. ‘Is that how you broke your nose?’
‘If I’d fallen two and a half thousand feet, Phyllis, I can assure you I’d have broken a lot more than my nose. No, I was lifted off by helicopter, on the end of a rope, and they dropped me on Copacabana beach.’
‘Were you always a daredevil?’ Phyllis asked as we crossed Primrose Hill Road.
‘No, I was a bit of a squit really. I was very anxious and got picked on all the time. That’s how my nose got broken—in the playground. Maybe that’s why I went into this business—to conquer my fears.’
‘And how’s your new young lady?’ Phyllis asked with a tipsy smirk.
‘Oh she’s…fine,’ he replied. ‘She’s absolutely fine.’
‘She must have been thrilled with the chocolates,’ I said.
‘Well, she was,’ he replied. ‘Except…well, unfortunately, chocolate gives Natalie migraines.’
‘Really? Oh dear.’
‘Yeah.’ He shrugged. ‘I didn’t know that. It’s quite a serious problem for her actually, she really suffers with them but—hey—there she is!’ Coming towards us, on our side of the road, was a slender blonde of exquisite prettiness. It was her—the Timotei ad. The girl I’d seen in the Mews. So she was Marcus’s new flame.
‘She’s very pretty,’ Phyllis said admiringly.
‘Yes, she’s gorgeous,’ Marcus whispered back. He waved at Natalie who suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, then crossed to the other side of the road. Then she got out her mobile phone, and dialled. Suddenly Marcus’s mobile trilled out.
‘Hi, Nats!’ he said. ‘How are you? Good. Yes, I’m fine—apart from a slight sniffle. And where are you going? To the chemist? Piriton? For your hay fever? Oh, I see. Well we’re just going onto the Hill with the puppies.’