He stared, and she turned around and caught him.
‘Ahem. Thank you for coming.' Craig addressed the gathering as Charlotte took the vacant chair opposite him. Her neighbour, Ben, was beside her. He didn’t recognise anyone else.
The gathering was Mark’s idea. ‘You’ve got to cancel that community meeting,’ was the first thing he said when they sat down yesterday with their coffees. ‘You’ve got nowhere to go with those designs. There’s no wiggle room,’ he said. It was better to just tweak their game plan, play it through and do some token consultation to minimise the messages coming their way. A ‘workshop’ would do the trick.
Thankfully, Charlotte had offered them a ready-made audience with her Boundary Street Preservation Group. A phone call to her gallery that afternoon had locked it in, and here they were. Mark, meanwhile, was working his magic on the financiers, to get them to extend their deadline.
‘It might help if we begin by introducing ourselves,’ Craig said to the group before him. ‘I’m sure you all know each other, but it would be helpful if I knew your names as well.’
He asked them to go around the room and introduce themselves, starting with the dreadlocked man on his left. As they reeled off their names and their interest in the project, the seeds of suspicion planted in Craig’s mind took root. Individually, they seemed more interested in each other’s personal backgrounds than they should be. If they all knew each other, if they were members of a group, why were they so curious about each other? When it came to Charlotte’s turn, she was flushing furiously.
‘Charlotte Evans,’ she said. ‘Owner of the Evans Gallery, as you know, and Chair of this group.' A few members of said group nodded their head enthusiastically. One member looked suspiciously like a penny had just dropped.
As the remainder of the group reeled off their names, Craig considered his next move. Should he expose this farce now, or give them the airtime? He opted for the latter. He wanted to see how it would play out.
‘Thanks, everyone,’ he said when the introductions had come full circle. ‘I should begin by explaining the reasoning behind the change of plans. As you all know, we did have a public forum scheduled for this evening. However, after further consideration, we have decided on a different approach. As any of you who attended the last forum will know, community meetings like that can end up just being about providing information and expressing opinions. They don’t give you the chance to talk things through, to weigh up different ideas and consider new approaches. So instead of a forum, Morgan Carmichael thought it would be better to hold a workshop. And the Boundary Street Preservation Group was the obvious choice for participants.’
One of the group looked up, his brow puzzled. Craig could have laughed.
Instead, he continued. ‘A workshop lets us throw ideas back and forth. It helps us see things differently and allows us to understand different perspectives. Now, to get things started, I want to start with a little activity to get our creative juices flowing.’
He asked them to stand up and organise themselves into a line according to where they were born, with those born nearest to their current location at one end, and those born furthest away at the other. It achieved all he wanted and more. The discomfort lifted, and they were laughing. It also proved without a doubt that the group of people gathered in the community centre that night were virtual strangers. Where did Charlotte get this crew?
He glanced at her to find her twisting her hands, chatting to the member who had no idea who she was. Introducing herself, more like it. Was that sweat on her forehead?
This was too much fun.
‘Okay, thanks everyone. Let’s take our seats again.’
He continued after they had settled. ‘Now I want to talk about what makes a neighbourhood a community. What are the important things that make us value where we live, work or play?’
Unsurprisingly, they were taken aback. It wasn’t what they were anticipating. Charlotte gave him the evil eye.
‘Okay,’ said Craig, to fill in the silence. ‘What about playgrounds? We all want a place for the kids to play don’t we? What else?’
‘Parks,’ someone offered.
‘Trees.’
‘A community centre.’
The list grew, and Charlotte and Ben watched on in silence. The rest of the group were chortling and enjoying themselves.
While they were relaxed, it was a good time to make his play.
‘Okay. That’s a great list. So, let’s move on. I’d like to know a bit about this group. How did you come together? How long have you been together?’
Charlotte was quick to speak this time. ‘I don’t see how that matters, Craig. You already know we are here because we have a common interest in protecting Boundary Street. How about we start talking about how we are going to do that?’
As she was speaking, Ben loosely draped his arm around the back of her chair. Craig growled. Aloud apparently, because the dreadlocked guy started and stared.
‘Of course, Charlotte,’ he said, reclaiming his composure. ‘We’ll get to that. But if this group represents the community, its history helps me to understand the history of the community, and its interests.’
Charlotte opened her mouth again, but a woman who’d identified herself as the local librarian cut her off.
‘Oh, we’ve only just formed,’ she announced. ‘This is our first meeting.’
Craig coughed as Charlotte rolled her eyes in despair and sank into her chair. Ben was torn between amusement and solidarity.
‘Is that right?’ Craig couldn’t resist. Charlotte glared at him, and he flashed her a roguish grin, which caused Ben’s amusement to win out. He lowered his head to hide his smirk. Charlotte kicked him in the shin.
The group nodded their consensus. So much for yesterday’s veiled threat that they were to formulate their battle strategy that afternoon.
The question for Craig now was, did he throw Charlotte under the bus?
‘I’m not sure I believe you're interested in our history or the history of the local area at all, Craig,’ Charlotte said. ‘I think perhaps this whole process might be a farce to make everyone feel like they've been consulted. I don’t think you've any intention of taking on board what we have to say.’
Under the bus it was then.
‘If you really believed that, Charlotte, you wouldn’t have been in my office yesterday, offering me an alternative design for the site in question. You sought a meeting with us, which means you must have thought we would listen.’
‘What?’ said Dreadlocks.
‘What’s going on?’
‘What is he talking about?’
Charlotte’s eyes flashed fire. Ben stiffened, and he switched back to serious. It was on.
Charlotte cleared her throat and addressed the group. ‘Craig is talking about a meeting I had with Morgan Carmichael yesterday. I did seek it out because I wanted to test them. And yes, part of that was offering them an alternative design; one that is infinitely superior and offers a far better outcome for everyone affected. But Morgan Carmichael aren’t interested in better outcomes. They're only interested in making money.’
‘You wanted us to take your design on board. You were supportive of the development. You were ready to sell these people out.’
‘And that’s exactly what I wanted you to think. I was testing you, Craig, to see if you really believed all that crap you said at the community meeting. And now I have proof that you don’t. Not only did you chicken out of the community meeting, you’ve come here trying to side-track us with team-building activities. It’s bullshit, Craig. And we’re not buying it.’
Well, that cut both ways. He didn’t believe for a second that she was testing him yesterday, but what was he to do? Accuse her of lying and have the whole meeting descend into a school-yard slanging match. That would never work in his favour.
Ooh, she was good. The group was shifting fast in their seats, turning on him. She’d have them walking out again in a minu
te. And for the first time in a long time, he couldn’t see his way out. Craig Carmichael, who excelled at crowd control, didn’t know what to do with a dozen passive hippies.
If only he could phone a friend; he could use Mark right now. This woman kept throwing him off his game.
‘I’m sorry you feel that way, Charlotte,’ he said. ‘However, I am very experienced at running these workshops and the team-building activities you're referring to are an important part of getting people to work well together. But let’s put it to the group shall we? How about a show of hands? Who is happy to proceed?' Was that too fast?
‘How about an alternative?’ said Charlotte, confidently. ‘I haven’t seen you take any notes tonight, Craig. How about we end this farce and send you a list of our interests? That way you will have a written record of them. Now let’s see that show of hands. Who wants to wrap this up?’
Nine out of the thirteen raised their hands. Yep, too fast, too soon.
Damn, she did it again.
It was Charlotte’s turn to smirk.
He glared at her, thinking how much he’d like to wipe it off her lovely face.
Chapter thirteen
Craig watched the band walk on to the stage with the swagger of boys who’d found success before they were mature enough to respect it. I’m too old for this, he thought.
The drummer counted them in, and they released a torrent of three-chord pop-punk guitar riffs that weren’t necessarily original, but rocked just the same. The expanding mosh pit in front of the stage certainly seemed to think so. As did Cassie, who started to bop on the spot beside him.
He was there tonight as her handbag, and willingly so. He didn’t mind a pub band every now and then. And it was nice to be out and distracted from work, and other things, for once.
The club was dark, the crowd was pumped, and he was happy to just be another regular punter. He’d made a pact with Cassie that there’d be no stepping on each other’s toes tonight, gently, subtly or otherwise. No need to stand by and defend each other from unwelcome conversations. Tonight they were on their own.
As he watched the stage, the steady stream of people making their way from the backstage area, past the stack of amplifiers and down into the crowd, caught his eye. Even in the darkness he recognised the evocative figure of Charlotte Evans, closely followed by her sister Emily. He felt the pull immediately and brightened. For a fleeting moment, the evening seemed to carry even more promise. Then he recalled he was with his home-wrecking friend, and just whose home was the latest to fall victim. Crap.
On top of that, he’d been furious with her after the workshop last week. ‘Two, zip,’ she’d said before she left, rubbing his face in it. Luckily, Mark was making headway with the money men, so the sheen of her victory was about to wear off. Now that made him perk up.
Concealed by the low lighting, Craig observed the sisters gravitate to the bar at the back of the venue. He stole a glance at Cassie to see if she'd noticed, only to find she was no longer beside him, but weaving her way through the mosh pit to the very front of the stage.
Craig ran his hands through his hair. As he wondered which one she was aiming for, he realised what was familiar about the lead guitarist. He turned back to the bar and did a quick comparison. The resemblance was unmistakable. He had to be their brother.
He bulldozed his way through the crowd, grabbed Cassie by the arm and dragged her off to the side of the stage.
‘What are you up to?’ he asked.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Emily’s brother.’
‘Ohhh…I forgot Emily’s brother was in this band. I wonder if she’s here.’
‘You don’t fool me for a second, Cassie. Haven’t you done enough damage?’
‘Haven’t I done enough damage? She’s the one who wrecked my relationship.’
‘Can you even hear yourself? Stay away from her, Cass. If you go anywhere near her tonight, I will drag you out of here by your hair.’
‘I’d like to see you try macho-man. Give it a rest, huh? Let’s enjoy the band.’
Before he could say anything more, Cassie pranced back into the midst of the fans crowding the stage.
Three songs into Reality Cheque’s set, Craig found he wasn’t concentrating on the band at all. The furtive looks he was throwing back towards the bar were going to give him RSI. Charlotte looked relaxed, and Emily appeared to be casually knocking back beers. Cassie was still in the mosh pit. Perhaps a quiet word of warning wouldn’t go unappreciated, he thought, making excuses for his lack of restraint. They had some ice to break anyway, didn’t they?
Charlotte stiffened alarmingly when she spotted him weaving through the crowd. He checked his disappointment.
Emily looked up curiously and gave him a weak, almost sympathetic smile. Then it fell, and she scanned the crowd behind him.
‘Can I have a quick word?’ he yelled into Charlotte’s ear, over the top of the music. Charlotte stayed mute, but she didn’t seem to refuse him. He settled on the stool beside her, ordered her a Pimm’s and himself a beer, and made sure Emily was out of earshot.
‘I thought I should warn you Cassie is in there,’ he said, pointing towards the stage. Charlotte frantically searched the mosh pit. ‘Shit,’ was all she said when she located her target.
Accepting the drink he offered, she looked into it with a small frown, then back at him. ‘What is she doing here? What are you doing here?’
‘We came to see the band. If it means anything, I had no idea you would be here. I realise now your brother is on stage. If I had known he was in the band, I would have talked her out of coming.’
‘She knew though, didn’t she?’
He nodded and took a swig of his beer. They were sitting close so they could talk over the music. The jasmine drifting out of her hair was like a drug. He wanted to sniff her, but that would be weird.
On stage, another song came to an end. Charlotte moved quickly to capitalise on the opportunity to converse without shrieking.
‘Keep her away from my sister.’
Before he could confirm he intended to do exactly that, a heavy slap on the back knocked him into her. He turned to find Mark and his wife Clare, who both greeted him enthusiastically and openly gave Charlotte the once over. Then to Clare’s left, Craig spotted Lauren, his ex, staring at him in surprise. Her eyes narrowed faintly as she took in Charlotte.
Craig stood up to shield Charlotte from their scrutiny while he greeted them. He’d forgotten he’d met Lauren through Clare. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to see her with them, but after ten months, it was a surprise to see her at all.
Seemingly satisfied Charlotte wasn’t his date after he turned his back on her without a word, Lauren turned on the flirt.
Craig felt Charlotte move away, and his centre of gravity went with her. He was pretty sure she was affronted, but the last thing he wanted was to subject her to the scrutiny of his friends and … acquaintances.
Nor did he need anyone, including Mark, getting suspicious of his relationship with her.
‘You’re game,’ Mark observed, watching Charlotte vanish into the crowd, dragging her sister after her.
‘Well, I could hardly avoid her, could I?’ Craig asked, looking anywhere but behind himself.
As the gig rolled on, he spent the night chatting to his colleague and his wife, trying to keep his ex at arm’s length, and scrutinising every move of his oldest friend. He was only half participating in the conversations around him. He’d much rather be examining Charlotte’s moves, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Towards the end of the set, Mark and Clare went to the bar for their last drinks and Lauren moved in to interrogate him.
‘It’s been a long time, Craig,’ she said. ‘Are you still a workaholic?’
‘Nothing’s changed, Lauren,’ he told her, impatiently.
‘Nothing at all?’ she teased.
Craig didn’t have time for games tonight. He was having a hard enough
time concentrating on what she was saying, let alone trying to figure out what she wasn’t.
As Lauren touched his arm to try and focus his attention, he ignored her entirely and scanned the crowd once more for Charlotte. Miraculously she appeared, and his frustration heightened. She was talking to her dance partner, the one who was apparently her ex, at the other end of the bar. Irritated he’d spent the evening backed into a corner, unable to hound the woman who was doing a damn fine job of avoiding him, Craig wanted to walk over and punch said ex in the face.
Charlotte looked utterly disinterested in whatever he was shouting in her ear. Good. He glanced at the ex at his elbow and excused himself, cutting her off mid-sentence.
Emily thwarted him, appearing out of nowhere to stop him in his tracks.
‘Did you bring her?’ she asked, slurring her words a little.
‘No,’ he sighed. ‘She brought me. I’m sorry. I didn’t know this was your brother’s band.’
Emily studied him. ‘Hmm,’ she said. ‘I don’t think you did. Deep inside, you’re a good guy really, aren’t you?’
‘Nah,’ he said, looking towards Charlotte. ‘Not really.’
Emily grinned at him lopsidedly. There were glimpses of her sister in it, but it didn’t sizzle him the way Charlotte’s sublime smile did. And that wasn’t just because Emily’s was sad and kind of sloppy.
‘The band is just about finished. Will you have a drink with me before I have to deal with your friend?’ she asked.
He hesitated but then conceded. He owed Emily a drink for being the arsehole that brought her husband’s mistress to her brother’s gig. Besides, Charlotte would come looking for her sister at the end of the night, wouldn’t she?
‘Why not?' He glanced over at Charlotte and caught her ex checking out her arse while she watched the band. He faltered, and his fist clenched involuntarily.
Emily grasped his arm and tugged him towards the bar. She sat him down on a stool and signalled the bartender. ‘Two pints, please.’
Set Me Free Page 14
