‘Would you hold out your hands for me, please, miss?’ enquired the second policeman. I couldn’t help but notice how nicely he asked.
However, with Gabi’s words about being niced into things still fresh in my mind, I absently lifted my wrists out of reach, and went on, ‘When he saw me walking down the road.’
I paused and raised my eyebrows with a big smile, as if I were about to begin the most hilarious cocktail party anecdote.
To my amazement, it seemed to work. Both policemen, and Godric, tipped their heads in lovely ‘do go on’ encouragement.
‘Right, well, um, I was walking down Fifth Avenue, just, you know, looking at the shops, when I realised I was being followed! By a, um, by a big man. I could see him in the shop windows behind me, and I’m sure he followed me into the Gap. Anyway, I was just walking along, and I’d got to about, er, Thirty-Ninth Street,’ I elaborated randomly, ‘when I saw Godric in the car, so I waved at him, and at that exact moment, I felt someone try to steal my handbag!’
I clapped a hand on my maidenly chest for emphasis.
‘I didn’t know what to do! I mean, I’d read all your very helpful New York guidelines about what to do if you think you’re being mugged—’
‘We do advise you to hand over your bag, miss,’ the policeman reminded me. ‘Not steal a car to chase the offender.’
‘Oh, well, normally I would have let him have it!’ I improvised. ‘But I have some very confidential documents in here, pertaining to some work I’m doing on behalf of my father, who is, um, a key figure in the British Olympic committee. And so, you see, I was concerned about letting my bag go.’
I cannot tell you how much it pained me to use my father as a bargaining tool. But it had suddenly occurred to me that being arrested in the company of the man he’d forbidden me to get involved with looked bad on any front. If I was with Godric socially, Jonathan would be jealous; if I was with him professionally, he’d be livid.
And Jonathan took priority. I did not want to be arrested. I did not want Jonathan to know about this ever, even if that meant using my father to wriggle out of it.
The first policeman removed his sunglasses and rubbed his forehead, as if he were having trouble working out if I were lying, or merely insane. ‘So you’re saying you were being trailed because your father is some kind of British . . . politician? And this guy is a Hollywood actor? Anything else we should know?’
I opened my eyes very wide and tried to look disarming. ‘I know it seems rather far-fetched, officer, but yes. I’ve had to have special police training at home, to avoid kidnap.’
The other policeman looked less convinced, although, actually, that much was true. I have an excellent kick to the shins, especially in the sort of shoes I generally wear for work.
‘And you’re saying you just ran into this guy?’ he went on, suspiciously. ‘On the street? How do you two know each other again?’
‘Friend of a friend,’ I said, at the same time as Godric said, ‘She’s my girlfriend!’
I glared at him. ‘Godric, I’m not your girlfriend. That isn’t going to help.’
He looked back at me, guiltily. ‘OK, then, an ex-girlfriend.’
I smiled at him sympathetically. He couldn’t have had that many exes if he was counting a hopeless fumble in a cupboard as one. ‘Darling, it was very nice and everything, and of course it’s awfully exciting to say I snogged a famous Hollywood star, but I don’t think—’
‘Can it,’ snapped the second, still shaded officer. ‘I don’t need to know your romantic arrangements.’
‘There’s no need for that!’ said Godric testily.
I think I was beginning to see his Achilles heel. He was one of those men who couldn’t be told. The apparent gallantry towards women was just an offshoot of not wanting them to be ordered about either.
‘Now, come on, Godric,’ I said, with a ‘he’s so dreadful!’ glance to the more understanding officer, ‘I really don’t think—’
But too late. Godric had the manners bit between his teeth. To my horror, I saw a human version of Braveheart: not interested in the shoe until you want it, then unable to release it from his jaws for rage.
‘You simply cannot harass us like this!’ fumed Godric, Englishly. ‘How were we to know that you operate test drives as if perfectly innocent customers were potential thieves? I’ll have you know that in London, the dealers are decent enough people to let you take the car around the block yourself without ringing the police to—’
‘That’s enough! Get in the car!’
‘—have you hauled in like a common criminal. And another thing, this car did not have cruise control as advertised!’
The loudhailer came out again and I felt cold steel snap around my wrists. ‘Get in the car! Do not attempt to escape!’
For the first time, I became aware of the people stopping and staring on the pavement, and I began to die inside, very slowly.
As I was shoved into the police car, I saw Godric attempt to take a swing at the officer, only to lose his balance, at which point the other policeman neatly tipped him into the other side.
‘Do you think they bought it?’ demanded Godric in a not-very-hushed undertone.
I glared at him, temporarily too cross to speak.
‘Excellent,’ he said, settling back into his seat as we roared off. ‘I’ve always wanted to be a political prisoner.’
I hope you won’t mind if I draw a veil over the intervening three hours at the police station, in which Godric and I went over ‘our’ story about nine times, including my fascinating description of my stalker. I tried to make it as vague as possible; the last thing I wanted was some innocent six-foot hunchback being arrested for trying to snatch my handbag.
We were allowed to make calls, and while the police were checking out our ludicrous-but-true details, I called home. The last thing I wanted was Daddy getting a call to inform him that I was under arrest for assisting a car theft.
The phone rang and rang, and suddenly I remembered that there was no one there! They were on Emery’s anniversary mini-break.
Cold sweat prickled my skin.
Just as I thought I was about to burst into tears, the phone was picked up at the other end.
‘Hello,’ husked a heavily accented voice, ‘I’m really just burgling this house, so I’m afraid I can’t help you with any enquiries you might have.’
‘Granny!’ I almost sobbed with relief.
‘Melissa! Darling!’ she cried, in her more familiar Park Lane tones. ‘How lovely to hear from you! Where are you calling from?’
‘A police station in New York.’
‘Gracious, how racy!’
‘Listen,’ I dropped my voice. ‘I need you to cover for me. I can’t explain now, but there’s been an awful misunderstanding.’ I gabbled the story.
‘ . . . And so I’ve told them he saved me from a stalker, and . . .’
‘And?’ said Granny. ‘What do you need me to do? Sounds like you’ve got it covered. Jolly well done, darling. Your father would be proud. Your very first international lie.’
‘I don’t think they believe me!’ I wailed. ‘I mean, who would?’
‘Let me speak to someone, Melissa,’ she said calmly. ‘We’ll soon have this cleared up.’
I had some misgivings about letting Granny take the reins, since she was even more imaginative than Daddy, but she must have said something, because half an hour later Godric and I were chucked out of the cells, without even having our fingerprints taken.
‘I understand you’ve had some trouble in the past, ma’am,’ said the arresting office. ‘You should have said. We take press intrusion very seriously in New York.’
‘Um, well, quite,’ I mumbled.
He cut me a cheeky glance. ‘So, off the record, you got any good stories?’
I looked bewildered. ‘About . . . ?’
‘About dating Wills?’
Godric stared at me. ‘You dated Prince William? I never kne
w that.’ He gawped, then added, rather unnecessarily, in my opinion, ‘You dirty cradlesnatcher!’
‘Um, I don’t talk about it. All in the past,’ I muttered. Granny. Honestly.
After a brief lecture about wasting police time, and the etiquette of testing new cars in New York, we were free to go.
‘God, I should tell Paige about your brush with royalty,’ said Godric. ‘She’ll be—’
I stopped walking and grabbed him by the hands.
‘Please, Godric,’ I said. ‘Can this be our little secret? Please?’
He looked down at me, with a noble glint in his dark eyes. ‘If that’s what you want, Melissa,’ he said gruffly, ‘then it’s our secret. On my honour.’
Our eyes met, and we shared a solemn moment amidst the clattering hallway. I knew that Godric, with his dramatic fixations, would take it as a matter of principle not to tell. Flooded with relief, I leaned up and planted a kiss on his stubbly cheek. ‘Thanks!’ I said. ‘You’re a real friend!’
‘Nngh,’ choked Godric, and opened his mouth to say something but I put a finger over his lips to stop him.
‘Say no more!’ I shh’ed. I was wiping my lipstick off his cheek when I caught sight of a familiar form in the grimy waiting room, where various dishevelled and confused customers were congregating. A smart, besuited form with very square shoulders and shiny shoes I could see from twenty feet away.
‘Oh, bollocks,’ I murmured, as panic returned to my bloodstream.
‘So, what are you up to tonight?’ asked Godric conversationally.
Any chances of covering this up vanished like steam off a latte.
‘Do you want to come and see my play?’ he blethered on. ‘It’s not very good, but, you know, it passes the time. And there’s a party next week, actually, that you could come to? Paige wants me to take you. Ungh!’ He pulled a face. ‘Seriously! It’s like she doesn’t trust me out on my own or something. But I’d still quite like you to come anyway. If you wanted to,’ Godric finished, in a smaller voice, but I wasn’t listening.
‘Jonathan!’ I said, trying to sound as if I got arrested all the time. Well, it was worth making one small attempt to bluff it out. The adrenalin of talking my way out of the crisis, seasoned with the sheer horror of brushing with the law, was making my voice frightfully English.
‘Melissa,’ said Jonathan, through very tight lips. ‘I realise you’ve got some kind of television fixation going on, but could you not have limited your research to The Kids from Fame, and skipped NYPD Blue?’
I let out a tinkly social laugh, but knew that this show of levity from Jonathan was for Godric’s benefit. Underneath his polite smile, he looked seriously rattled. Rattlingly serious, even.
‘I’m glad to see you’ve found the funny side to all this, but I still need to speak to the officer in charge,’ he said. ‘Would you excuse me, Mr Spencer?’ And he moved away, towards the enquiry desk, ignoring the queue building up.
‘No, honestly, there’s no need!’ I said, grabbing his arm.
‘There most certainly is.’ He disengaged me firmly. ‘While I admire your grace in adversity, Melissa, might I remind you that you’ve just suffered both an abduction attempt and a false arrest? There may be consequences, legal consequences, actually. Not to mention security issues.’ He banged on the desk. ‘Hello?’
‘But Jonathan, really . . .’ I chewed my lip. Oh, God. This was why I tried not to tell fibs. I just couldn’t handle them once they were out of the bag. ‘How did you know about the, er, abduction attempt?’
He turned back, concern drawing deep lines around his mouth. ‘Paige called me. She explained how Ric here got you out of a tight spot with some man who’d been following you and . . .’ Jonathan ran a hand through his hair. ‘Jesus Christ, Melissa! You really shouldn’t be carrying politically sensitive documents! What was your father thinking? It’s not your job, you don’t have protection, and, you’re on holiday! The cops had no right to cuff you. Absolutely no right whatsoever.’ He turned back to the desk. ‘Can I get some goddamn attention here?’
Godric opened his mouth and I glared at him. A cold chill ran over my skin, and for once it was nothing to do with the air-conditioning.
‘If I don’t talk to someone in the next thirty seconds, I am calling my lawyer!’ barked Jonathan.
‘Jonathan,’ I said, pulling at his arm. ‘Please? Can we just go home? I don’t want to make any more of this than is absolutely necessary. I feel an utter fool. I should have been more careful with my bag. Handbag strap firmly across my body from now on.’
Jonathan paused in his slamming of the desk to give me a patient look. ‘Honey, we’re not in Parsons Green now, you know. You’re telling me that someone was following you? And you’re happy just to go home and forget all about it?’
I inspected my feet. ‘Well, that’s the thing . . . I might just have been paranoid. And I’d really rather not make a big deal about it, you know. The newspapers and everything?’
‘Melissa! Get your priorities sorted out! I don’t care about your stupid father, but I do care if you’re being intimidated on the streets of this city!’
‘Jonathan, I might have been wrong!’ I insisted. ‘And I just want to go home!’
‘But . . .’ He saw the pleading look in my eyes, and gave up. ‘Fine. Let’s get you home. I can deal with this later.’
Part of me bridled a little at the fact that he felt obliged to deal with it at any time, when it was dealt with already, but that part was more than swamped by the relief I felt as he ushered me out of there, back onto the street, his strong arm protectively around my shoulders.
‘I’ll, er, get a cab,’ said Godric, who, deprived of his car, had shed his gangsta swagger and reverted to his usual dank Latin teacher persona.
‘Thank you,’ said Jonathan stiffly. ‘I appreciate your taking care of Melissa.’ And he shook his hand twice, then gave him an equally awkward slap on the back. ‘Call me if you decide to take any further action about the arrest situation. I can recommend an attorney.’
‘Oh, er, cheers,’ mumbled Godric. ‘I’ll, er, see you around, Mel.’
‘Oh, I shouldn’t think so!’ I said brightly. ‘Maybe at that premiere of yours!’
A gloomy look passed over his face. ‘Yeah. Right. I’ll get Paige to call you.’
‘No!’ I said, with a sideways look at Jonathan. ‘No, she can call Jonathan. If she wants to invite us both.’
Jonathan looked very weary at the mention of Paige’s name, but was too well mannered to do anything more than smile in polite agreement.
Spotting a vacant taxi approaching, I managed to make it stop, for the first time since I’d been in New York. The tension must have made me look positively native.
17
Jonathan said nothing for several blocks. And that was worse than being yelled at by Officer Dibble.
Eventually, I could bear the silence no longer. ‘Jonathan,’ I burst out, ‘please believe me, I honestly didn’t know that . . .’
He ran a finger around his collar and loosened his tie. ‘What?’
‘Godric,’ I said. ‘I really did just bump into him. I wasn’t, you know, improving him or anything.’
Jonathan looked at me strangely. ‘Did I even suggest that you were? Interesting that you’re more concerned about that than about being arrested. Or stalked! Look, I can see there was . . . an element of confusion about the whole incident, but as long as you’re all right, that’s all I care about.’
I bit my lip. ‘But I wouldn’t have—’
‘Let’s drop it, OK?’ He patted my hand. ‘You’re safe and that’s all that matters. We need to get home and get changed before Jennifer’s party.’
I didn’t like the feeling that he was forgiving me, when I hadn’t done something that needed forgiving. For once. And he shouldn’t feel embarrassed – I was the one who should be feeling mortified, and I was just about keeping it all in check.
‘It’s not like it’s going
to end up in the papers this time,’ I gabbled on, unable to stop myself. ‘I spoke to Paige when, er, Godric got his one call, and I explained everything. She promised me that it wouldn’t go any further. She gave me her word.’
‘I wouldn’t set too much store by that,’ said Jonathan. ‘She’s an agent. Would you excuse me for a second while I pick up my calls? I had to run out on a meeting.’ He got his mobile out of his jacket and started to speed-dial. As he listened to his messages, a pained look spread over his face, tightening the lines around his mouth. From the expression, I wondered if it was Cindy.
It certainly sounded like a woman’s voice.
I stared out of the window while he jotted notes down in his diary, not even looking at the landmarks flashing by. This wasn’t how it was meant to be turning out. Shouldn’t we be ice-skating hand-in-hand on the community rink, or whatever the late summer equivalent was? Not sitting in silence in a taxi. While Jonathan called his office again? A terrible thought struck me. Had this just been a holiday romance for him?
Jonathan clicked his phone shut and turned to me, putting his finger on my chin to turn my face gently to his. ‘Melissa, honey,’ he said, more quietly. ‘I was just really worried about you.’
I shook myself. It hadn’t properly occurred to me how serious it must have looked from the outside. Blimey. I was getting sucked into Godric’s egocentric world.
‘Honestly, Jonathan, Godric borrowed the car for a test drive, he did what you can sometimes do in England, and drove around on his own for a bit, and the dealer called the police. I mean, I can understand why they freaked out . . .’
Jonathan drew in a deep breath. ‘Whatever. Tell me about this stalker.’
I hesitated. Why had it been so much easier to lie to the police than it was to tell Jonathan the truth? ‘I tried to explain that there’d been a misunderstanding. They wouldn’t listen. And Godric wasn’t helping. He got aggressive, and they must have got the wrong idea. So I . . . I tried to use my initiative.’
His face clouded. ‘Don’t tell me. You invented the stalker?’
Little Lady, Big Apple Page 29
