Tell Me a Secret

by Jane Fallon

  ‘No. But … what are you going to do with it?’

  She gives me a big shark-like smile, pats me with her bear paw. ‘I have no idea yet, but we’ll think of something. Don’t you worry.’

  I sit there feeling sick. Patricia stands. ‘Right. I need to get to make-up.’

  I want to say ‘Please don’t do anything to make the situation worse’ but I realize it couldn’t really get any worse, so I keep quiet. May as well go out with a bang.

  I sit there on eggshells all morning. I can’t concentrate, can’t think straight. I don’t pass a single note through to the director because I’m only half aware of what’s being said. They could all be calling each other by the wrong names for all I care.

  At lunchtime I can’t face going up to the office so I call Emma and ask if she’d mind picking me up a sandwich when she gets her own, and bringing it to me here. I know that Juliet will be waiting for news, wanting to know about my triumphant audience with Glen this morning. I dash her off a quick text: Didn’t speak to Glen. Have news. Not good.

  Fifteen minutes later there’s a tap on the door and Juliet appears brandishing my lunch.

  ‘I intercepted Emma,’ she says, handing it over. ‘I don’t think she was very happy.’

  She sits down and I fill her in on the whole story while I eat, right up to Patricia sending herself the video.

  ‘I thought Roz couldn’t stand him,’ she says when I show it to her.

  ‘She can’t. This has nothing to do with attraction.’

  ‘And he’s married. My God, what a mess.’

  ‘How’s she been this morning?’ I put down the sandwich. I’ve got no appetite.

  ‘Showing off to Lorraine about all the amazing places she went to. The usual.’

  The phone on the coffee table rings. I grab it up. ‘Hi, Holly here.’

  ‘Holly, do you think you could come up for a word?’ It’s Glen. My stomach flips.

  ‘Now?’

  ‘If you don’t mind,’ he says. He doesn’t sound happy.

  ‘Of course. Two minutes,’ I say, putting the phone down. I turn to Juliet. ‘Glen wants to see me.’

  ‘She will have shown him the email. The one you supposedly sent.’

  In all the drama of the morning I’d forgotten that Roz still had this weapon to use against me.

  ‘Well, it doesn’t matter now. She’s won.’

  ‘Don’t go down without a fight,’ she says.

  ‘I won’t.’ I pick up my bag with all the evidence against Roz in. I can’t really summon up the energy to defend myself, but I know Juliet’s right. For my own self-esteem I need to know that I tried.

  We walk over to the office building together. I still have half an hour before filming starts up again. Juliet gives my arm a squeeze as she leaves me at Glen’s door. I knock.

  ‘Come in.’

  I close my eyes, force myself to push the door open. Glen is sitting behind his desk. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

  ‘Have a seat. How are you?’

  ‘Good,’ I stammer. ‘I’ve been better.’

  ‘Some things have come to light that I have to take very seriously,’ he says.

  ‘If this is about an email I supposedly sent to Roz while she was away I have proof that she sent it to herself. Or at least that she got her friend to do it.’

  A tiny frown flits across his face. I dig into my bag, pull out the cardboard file with the emails and photos in. I lean across and put it on his desk. He ignores it.

  ‘I don’t want to hear any more excuses, Holly. Roz is very upset. I’m afraid I have to take this up with HR.’

  I steel myself. Force the words out. ‘Me too. If you won’t hear me out then I have copies of all of this to give to them.’

  ‘Very well,’ he says. ‘If that’s how you want to play it, but Roz has been with the show for a long time – I don’t think you want to get into your word against hers …’

  There’s a movement on the TV screen mounted on the wall beside his desk. I check my phone quickly; it’s still too early for them to be back after lunch. Sometimes they turn the cameras on though, to test the positions for the next shot.

  ‘I’d like it noted that I want to make a formal complaint against her too. I can put it in writing to HR if you would rather.’

  Something flickers on the screen again. I try to stay focused. I need him to listen to what I’m saying.

  ‘I mean, if you want me to tell them you discouraged me from trying to stand up for myself …’ I have no idea where that came from. I’ve shocked even myself. I almost take it back, apologize if I phrased it badly, say that wasn’t what I meant. But somehow I stand my ground. I have nothing left to lose.

  He glares at me. Actually glares. ‘Of course not.’

  I try to hold his gaze, but then the feed from the studio catches my eye again. A piece of white paper is moving in to fill the screen. Glen seems to notice it at the same moment. He frowns. There are words on the paper.

  ‘Sound up at 1.50 p.m. everybody!!’

  Suddenly I know exactly what is going on. I’m glad I’m sitting down because if I wasn’t I’d probably pass out.

  ‘It must be someone’s birthday,’ I say, trying to inject my voice with a confidence I don’t feel. It’s not unheard of for the cast and crew to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to someone from the studio with the cameras running. I remember they did it for Catherine, Glen’s predecessor.

  ‘We’ll talk more,’ Glen says, looking back at me. ‘But I want you to know I’m very disappointed.’

  I look him straight in the eye. ‘So am I.’

  I don’t want to be anywhere near the studio at ten to two, and I also can’t quite resist seeing Roz’s reaction if she’s back from lunch, if she’s watching. So, despite the fact I don’t really want to come face to face with her, I wander down towards the department. It’s a full house, everyone at their desks, eating their lunches and working (Juliet, Joe and Emma) or chatting (Roz and Lorraine).

  ‘What do you think this is?’ Emma says as soon as she sees me, and I could kiss her. She waves the remote at the TV screen.

  ‘No idea. Birthday?’

  Roz looks up at the sound of my voice. I offer her a fake smile. ‘Good holiday?’

  ‘Fabulous,’ she says with an exaggerated stretch of her arms above her head.

  I keep moving towards my office. As I pass Juliet I give her a look that I hope says ‘Watch the TV!’ but I imagine just gives the impression I’m about to throw up. She must get something from it though, because she calls across to Emma, ‘Turn it up, it’s nearly ten to.’

  Roz rolls her eyes. ‘It’ll just be some cringy self-indulgent backslapping by the cast.’

  Emma ups the volume anyway. The sheet of paper slides out and is replaced by another. It reads ‘8 a.m. this morning. SOUND UP!!!’ The screen goes black and then there’s my shaky video. Patricia must have got one of the crew to help her because it fills the whole screen, it’s not just a shot of her phone.

  ‘What the …?’ Joe says. Emma raises the volume some more and there it is, the first, unmistakeable moan.

  ‘Shh!’ Juliet commands. We all stand there, glued to the screen as the camera picks up the nameplate on Glen’s door. Everyone lets out a collective half-laugh, half-gasp. Except for Roz. I sneak her a look and she’s rigid, her hand resting on a pile of scripts to hold herself steady.

  The picture on the screen wobbles about, and it’s almost unwatchable, but the soundtrack is unambiguous. I wonder if Glen’s watching. If he’s calling down to the gallery to insist they stop the video, and Patricia’s in there making sure no one answers the phone. Most of the crew will only just be wandering back from lunch, but there are TVs showing the feed from the studio in all the departments, in the actors’ green room, in reception, in random offices all around the building.

  Everyone is transfixed. Lorraine looks as if all her Christmasses have come at once. I wonder if, when she looks over at
Roz, eyes wide, she picks up that something is not quite right.

  ‘That’s it, I think,’ Roz says, her voice shaking slightly. ‘Turn it off.’

  Lorraine looks at her as if she’s gone insane. ‘Don’t you want to know who it is?’

  Roz doesn’t get a chance to answer because everyone gasps again when there’s a rustling and they realize that the occupants of the room might be about to walk out into view. I can hear my breathing clearly on the screen, and I wonder if there’s any way any of them could work out it’s me.

  As the door handle rattles it feels as if the whole of our building takes a breath in, holds it. I can hardly look. The door opens. And then an orange-clad leg with a bright red sandal on the end steps out. The picture becomes more steady – I was pressing the phone up against the door frame to try to stop the shaking – and there’s no mistaking who the person is exiting the room.

  The real-life Roz, the one standing a few feet from me, snatches up her bag and walks out of the room without saying anything. Lorraine watches her go, opens and shuts her mouth, like a fish needing air, but then turns back to the screen when she hears Emma’s ‘Eww’ as Glen playfully grabs Roz’s behind. And then he looks out. There’s no doubting it’s him. The picture cuts out.

  I look around the room. Juliet is smiling. Emma, Lorraine and Joe are frozen to the spot, tongues lolling.

  ‘Well,’ I say, finally able to breathe. ‘That was interesting.’

  And then it’s as if the silence breaks and I can hear chatter and laughter from all over the building.

  40

  Immediately after the video finishes playing I head back down to the studio. Juliet winks at me as I leave, and I know she won’t give away my secret to anyone. Glen’s door is closed, and I have no way of knowing whether he is aware of what has just been broadcast round the building or not. I rush past, anxious not to bump into him. I can hear people gossiping about Glen and Roz in every room I pass.

  In the studio block I head straight for Patricia’s dressing room and, ignoring Chris the runner’s pleas, knock on her door. She must know it’s me because she opens it without complaint. She puts her finger to her lips and ushers me inside. Once the door is closed she raises her eyebrows at me as if to say ‘Well?’ and I fling my arms round her, give her a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she says, but she’s beaming.

  ‘How did you …?’

  ‘One of the camera boys owed me a favour,’ she whispers. ‘Not that it was me.’

  ‘Of course it wasn’t, but thank you anyway.’

  ‘Accepted,’ she says, digging around in her cupboard for the whisky bottle. ‘Hopefully that’ll stop them in their tracks. They’ll know that no one in HR will believe her now.’

  ‘Let’s hope so.’ I accept a finger of liquid. Clink my glass against hers. ‘Fuck knows what’s going to happen next.’

  Glen’s office door remains closed all afternoon. None of us has any idea whether he is even still in there or not. The atmosphere in the office is charged. We’re all slightly giggly, slightly hysterical but also nervous. Unsure how this is going to play out. Only Lorraine looks stricken. Left out at sea without her life raft. I play innocent in front of her, Emma and Joe, but later, in the office kitchen, Juliet and I hug and jump up and down like two over-excited schoolgirls.

  Once I call Dee and tell her what’s happened, and she’s finished shrieking, she insists that she meet me on my way home so we can go back and confront Hattie together. I have no intention of giving her notice on the room. She owes me rent, she can leave as soon as she can organize transport. She’s lucky I’m not intending to take things any further.

  Dee is hovering on the corner of my road as I walk up from the station.

  ‘Any sign of her?’ I say. I feel anxious. I hate confrontation.

  She shakes her head. ‘I’ve only been here two minutes though.’

  ‘Let’s get it over with.’ The excitement of the day has dissipated. I’ve won a victory but I have no idea whether the war is over.

  The first things I see when I open the front door are Hattie’s keys on the mat, where she must have posted them through the letterbox.

  I bend down to pick them up. ‘Shit, she’s gone already.’

  I look in her room. There’s still a mess of bits and pieces – hairgrips, an open box of cereal, a single sock – but her little fridge, her microwave, her bedcovers, her cases have disappeared. I look around the flat for a note. Nothing.

  I find a bin bag under the sink in the kitchen and we start clearing up.

  ‘You should change the locks,’ Dee says. ‘I read a story the other day about someone who got all their stuff nicked five years after their tenant had moved out, because they’d never changed the locks.’

  ‘No you didn’t,’ I say, not unkindly.

  She smiles. ‘OK, so in this case I didn’t. But I could have.’

  ‘I will. I feel cheated, not being able to ask her what the hell she was doing.’

  ‘Who says you can’t?’ Dee says. She puts the bin bag beside the front door, heads into the kitchen and pulls a bottle of wine from the fridge. ‘But for now, let’s celebrate.’

  Roz doesn’t show up for work the next day. The rest of us try to carry on as if nothing has happened, and I’m thankful I’m on studio duty so I can keep out of Glen’s way. Juliet comes down to visit me and tells me that Lorraine is sitting looking at Roz’s empty desk like a devoted dog watching the front door for hours after its mistress leaves for work. Glen, she says, seems to be trying to bluff it out, although he did pull her aside and ask her to fill him in on what people were saying.

  ‘What did you tell him?’ I sip the coffee that she brought me.

  She leans back in her chair. ‘I said, “What do you think they’re saying? Just be thankful no one can accuse you of giving Roz any preferential treatment, because that would look really unprofessional right now.” ’

  ‘You didn’t!’

  ‘I certainly did. I nearly added “Maybe you should be more worried about your wife than your job” but I thought that was getting too personal.’

  ‘You’re a legend,’ I say, and I mean it.

  ‘There’s no way he’s going to take her complaint to HR now. And if he does you just add the video to the rest of the evidence you have.’

  I think for a second. ‘Was it a one-off, do you suppose? I mean, no way is she really interested in him.’

  ‘I imagine so. A last-ditch attempt to make sure he would be on her side.’

  ‘Grim.’

  She pulls a disgusted face. ‘Doesn’t bear thinking about.’

  She offers to cover the last hour of the studio for me, because Dee and I have a date – lurking about in a smart Marylebone street at ten to six. We haven’t really thought through what we’re going to say once Hattie emerges from her practice, but it’s the only way I could come up with to confront her without having to go to the Shepherd’s Bush flat and risk seeing Roz. We lean against the iron railings and wait for her to leave work. I’m a bit worried she might turn round and go straight back inside, slamming the door in our faces, but it’s the only option we have.

  At about two minutes past six the door opens and she comes down the steps with another woman. She clocks us and it seems as if she’s just going to ignore us and keep walking. Not on my watch.

  ‘Hi, Hattie,’ I say, stepping out in front of them.

  ‘I’m in a hurry,’ she says, pulling her sleeves down over her hands.

  ‘Really?’ I say, raising what I hope is an ominous eyebrow. I’m sure she won’t want me to make a scene here, in front of her colleague.

  She hesitates before turning to the other woman. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she says with a smile. ‘Have a good evening.’

  We all stand there for a second and then she looks right at me. ‘What do you think you’re doing here, coming to my work? I know I owe
you rent but you have my deposit.’

  ‘You really think that’s what this is about?’ I say. ‘Money?’

  ‘What else?’

  Dee snorts. We’ve agreed that I’ll do the talking but I know she can’t help herself. ‘Why did you move out so suddenly?’

  ‘Because I wasn’t happy there.’ She looks at me. ‘You never told me your daughter would be staying in the flat sometimes.’

  ‘Once since you’ve been there. And if that was all it was, wouldn’t you just have raised it with me?’ I say.

  ‘We know everything,’ Dee says. ‘About Roz, about the emails …’

  Hattie turns white. ‘I don’t know what you’re on about. Who’s Roz?’

  ‘Drop the stupid act.’ I’m angry now. All I want is for her to tell me the truth. ‘There’s a webcam in my living room …’

  ‘What? You can’t film people without their permission,’ she snaps. She sounds panicked.

  ‘I’m pretty sure you’ll find I can if they’re somewhere they’re not meant to be. You’re lucky I haven’t been to the police. I still might.’ I’m guessing the police would be less than interested if I did; I mean, what’s the crime? But I’m banking on her being too scared to think it through.

  She puts a hand out to steady herself on the railings. ‘It was just a few emails.’

  ‘How did you even end up living in my flat in the first place?’

  She sighs. ‘Roz asked me to do it as a favour. I really did have to move out of my place because my landlady was selling so she said maybe I should live at yours for a bit, while I looked for somewhere else, you know …’

  ‘And she told you exactly what to say at the interview so there was a pretty good chance Holly would pick you?’ Dee says.

  Hattie sits down on the steps of the building next door to the dental practice. She looks as if she’s given up. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why, though?’ I say.

  ‘I don’t know. It felt like a bit of a laugh and she was having such a shit time …’

  ‘And she wanted my job?’

  Hattie nods. She runs her hand through her short hair. ‘You don’t understand. Work is all she’s got.’