My body was still jangling. I heard a faint chink of plates from the closed kitchen.
‘Come round at the weekend,’ David was saying. ‘Saturday evening. Let’s really–’
I was nodding but I needed David to go while I got my head around it all. ‘Um,’ I edged away from him further. ‘I have to–’
Then I froze. Over his shoulder I saw the top of a head.
‘OH!’ Jinni stopped on the doormat and folded her arms, doing nothing to disguise her disapproval. She shot David a poisonous look and then addressed me. ‘Thanks for the text and your kind offer to come and eat,’ she said, deliberately. ‘But I’m already doing something. A last hurrah,’ she added meaningfully. She flicked David another killer glance. ‘I’m rather looking forward to it.’
‘David, has um–’ My voice was high and strange. ‘Brought some CCTV kit.’ I was still shaking, and I saw that Jinni had noticed. ‘We can set it up to–’
I trailed off at the look of pure scorn on her face. ‘How very clever of him.’
David looked back at her with dislike. Then put a hand on my shoulder and kissed me on the cheek. ‘I’ll look for that email,’ he said in professional tones. ‘And be in touch.’
Jinni gave a snort. ‘I know your game,’ she said. ‘And soon, everyone else will too.’
He turned to Jinni. ‘I hope you find out who has been doing this to you and Tess. But until you do, I suggest you are very careful not to make any more public accusations. You may not be fully conversant with the law on what constitutes libel, but I am. And if you damage my reputation, I can, and will, sue!’
‘I’ll text,’ he murmured, turning briefly back to me before he strode past Jinni out through the door.
‘Prick!’ she said loudly to his retreating back.
‘He’s got nothing to do with it,’ I said, reeling from his abrupt departure.
Jinni looked at me as though I’d claimed to believe in the tooth fairy. ‘We won’t catch anyone on that, believe me.’
‘Well, shall we set it up and try?’
She shrugged. ‘If you like. But not now. Craig’s coming round. He moves on Thursday so I won’t see him after that.’ She didn’t look bothered about this. She gave a small smile. ‘Must make the most of it while I can–’
She was straight-faced again. ‘So you ARE still seeing the wanker …’
‘He suddenly sent me a text.’
‘He’s obviously nuts. A criminal psychologist would have a field day with him. He trashes your house and then pops up here for a swagger. Like a murderer sending anonymous letters to the police to brag about it.’
‘Hardly!’
Jinni looked at me hard. ‘Gabriel went over to see Jim and Meg next door? They said there was “a sort of sports car” there when Jim put the bins out last night. Now – who do we know with one of those?’
Something stopped me telling her he’d been hoping to see me. I knew she’d think me an idiot for believing him.
I echoed the point he’d made. ‘Surely he wouldn’t be stupid enough to park right outside?’
‘That’s what he wants you to think.’ Jinni shook her head pityingly. ‘He’s playing you like a fiddle.’
I wished somebody was. David had woken up bits of me I’d thought had shrivelled up years ago, and now I couldn’t switch them off. I’d achieved nothing all afternoon, except for a brief foray into the kitchen – where Ben had said nothing but given me a quirky grin – to start a chilli and put the rest of the casserole in the oven.
‘I’m going to have a bath.’ I told Ben now, with as much dignity as I could muster. I jerked my head at the pot simmering on the hob. ‘Keep an eye on that, will you?’
‘Sure,’ he wandered in front of me, picking up his guitar from the corner of the sitting room and settling himself along the length of the sofa. I breathed deeply as I reached the landing, trying to feel soothed by the sound of the chords.
As I pulled off my clothes, I heard Oliver and Sam come in, the murmur of voices and a sudden burst of laughter. I wondered if Ben had told them what he’d seen.
I blushed at the memory, felt a thrill rocket through me and then blushed again. I poured in some more ever-tranquil bath elixir – another freebie from Caroline – and lowered myself into the hot scented water, feeling deeply unsettled.
Jinni was obsessed. It wasn’t David, but who would want to target us? Jinni was only converting her place into a B&B – not building six skyscrapers. All I’d done was move here. I felt a small anxious knot form in my stomach at the vision of someone creeping about in the dark with a dozen free-range.
I’d get Ben to help me install the camera. In the meantime it was David’s dark curls I saw. The memory of his hands on my shoulders, his lips, his dark grey eyes looking so intensely into mine …
I felt my muscles slowly relax and my mind unwind as I drifted off into a delicious fantasy in which Ben didn’t burst in and Jinni was too busy with her tree man to pitch up, and David lowered me gently onto the sofa and I not so gently began to tug at his clothes …
‘MUM!’ Tilly’s voice screeched from the landing. ‘That chilli’s sticking–’
I leapt out of the bath, scattering water across the tiles. Grabbing my towelling robe I strode across my bedroom, leaving a trail of splodgy wet footprints on the carpet.
I met Tilly in the doorway. ‘I asked Ben to watch it,’ I snapped.
‘Oh well, you know what he’s like–’
‘You were there, too! Is it beyond the wit of any of you to UN-stick the bloody chilli? To give it a stir? Perhaps if it isn’t too much trouble to turn a dial or boil some water, you could even make a supreme effort and make some rice?’ I tightened the cord on my dressing gown and stamped past her. Do I have to do fucking EVERYTHING?’
My daughter’s eyebrows had shot sky high. ‘I have turned it down,’ she said, startled. ‘I just thought I’d tell you it’s ready–’
‘It’s not ready. It should have been made hours ago. But it will have to do.’ I began to stomp my way down the stairs, nerve ends jangling. ‘So lay the table,’ I shouted back over my shoulder, ‘start that rice and tell Sam there’s a quiche in the fridge. And if Ben and Oliver can possibly prise themselves from the sofa, one of them can make a salad.’
‘Okay, okay,’ Tilly came scuttling down behind me. ‘What’s up with you?’
I saw Oliver’s head come up in surprise as I came to an abrupt stop at the bottom of the stairs, narrowly avoiding tripping over a trainer and causing Tilly to almost career into me.
‘Nothing!’ I yelled, as I surveyed the jumble of footwear inside the front door. I kicked at the nearest flip-flop. ‘I just wish you lot would get a grip occasionally and clear up these BLOODY SHOES …’
Chapter 30
Two days later, the bloody shoes were still in an almost-neat line.
Oliver had convened a crisis meeting entitled Mother in Meltdown and I’d arrived home after the others the previous evening, having had to manage a small crisis myself over an order of storage units, to find not only was there an M&S macaroni cheese and garlic bread in the oven, but that someone had hoovered!
‘We’ll do more,’ he said. ‘Tilly can cook tomorrow.’
‘I can’t. I’m rehearsing,’ she said airily. ‘And staying over at Danni’s after.’
‘OH – are you all friendly again now? I asked in surprise.
‘She’s got a boyfriend,’ Tilly explained. ‘He’s a complete dry lunch but at least she’s stopped bursting into tears and screaming at everyone.’
‘Perhaps you should try it,’ said Ben.
I shot him a sideways look to check who he was addressing, but he was smirking at his sister. She pulled a face. ‘You are SO fucking hilarious …’
Ben appeared not to have shared the trauma of discovering his mother clasping a strange man to her bosom with his siblings, or at least not with Tilly, who would have tied me to a chair and got the torch out. It was possible he’d told Oli
ver, who was being terribly grown up about it and assuming I was awash with middle-aged hormones and would recover if he galvanised the household into doing the washing-up.
I’d not seen Jinni since our encounter with David, but he had sent several texts. Saying how great it was to see me and he was looking forward to Saturday. I was invited to arrive at seven and he would order in some amazing Thai food. He’d also sent directions. I wondered if he was expecting me to stay the night. Should I put an overnight bag in the boot? Or go in a taxi as we were bound to drink? Would the bag then look a bit obvious? Was it best to stick a toothbrush in my handbag and borrow his deodorant?
Every time I considered these burning issues, my stomach flipped over. I couldn’t tell if it was excitement or terror.
Right now, I was running late for breakfast with Malcolm. I’d not heard from him, either, since I’d turned down his offer of sausage casserole and let him know I’d already been given some CCTV, save one of his usual clipped emails instructing me to meet him outside the office at 8 a.m.
It was already five past.
I’d stayed in bed till I’d heard various doors finish slamming, both to avoid clogging up the kitchen and because Tilly was in my en suite again. By the time the house was quiet and I was dressed, it had turned into 7.45 and I was still unpacking the dishwasher.
I sent Malcolm a brief missive to say I was on my way and rushed out of the door. The sun was already pouring down onto my front garden and I stopped by the gateway to pick a head of lavender and crush it between my fingers. Breathing in the scent, I made my way rapidly along the road, reminding myself I to call my mother. Tilly had apparently spoken to her before I got home the night before but had failed to tell me till 11 p.m. She said Granny had asked her three times what her job was and had forgotten who Sam was, altogether.
I rounded the corner into the High Street and hurried down towards Northstone News. It was 8.21 a.m. There was no sign of Malcolm and the front door was still locked. I peered through the glass panel and saw Grace sitting at the reception desk. I rapped on the window.
Grace looked up, face stony, made an exaggerated gesture of looking at the clock on the wall behind her and then got slowly to her feet. She came over to the door as if weighted down by concrete and stretched up to slide a bolt across.
‘Yes?’
‘Good morning, Grace. I’m here to meet Malcolm.’
She folded her lips inwards. ‘Rather you than me.’
I attempted a wide smile. ‘Shall I go up?’
‘He’s in a right mood.’
Emily was at her desk in the corner and one older woman was standing at a filing cabinet, but apart from that the upstairs office was empty. I went into Malcolm’s room at the far end to find him sitting in his large swivel chair, staring at a pile of newspapers in front of him. He didn’t look up.
‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ I said.
Malcolm grunted.
‘But I’m here now,’ I went on cheerily, concluding that my holding up the commencement of his first meal of the day had not gone down well. ‘And ready to go. Looking forward to it.’
Malcolm looked irritable. He stood up and walked to the doorway. ‘Emily!’ He bellowed across the open-plan office. ‘Any chance of making us coffee?’
He returned to his seat and indicated I should sit opposite.
‘The other one would start bleating on about stereotypes in the workplace,’ he said with disgust.
‘Are we not going to Sid’s?’ I asked, as he continued to look morosely at the pages on his desk.
‘Not yet …’
I looked at the clock. I had a feeling Paul might phone soon after nine. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘There certainly is.’ He started to push the newspaper across the desk when something caught his attention in the outer office and he walked past me to the door, raising his arm and beckoning.
Gabriel appeared in the doorway and smiled at me in greeting.
‘What are you doing here?’ Malcolm barked.
Gabriel looked uncertain. ‘Well, I was going to write up the–’
‘I meant,’ said Malcolm, with slow menace, ‘what have you come here for at all? I thought you worked for the Daily News …’
Gabriel frowned. ‘I don’t know what you mean–’
‘Don’t you?’ Malcolm turned the paper around so we could both see it. He jabbed a finger at the headline at the top of the page above a few inches of print and what appeared to be a picture of my front door. I leant forward to see: ‘Protestors target Northstone Newbies as property prices soar.’
‘See that?’ He looked straight at me, then at Gabriel. ‘Where did they get that story from, then? It doesn’t come out in our paper until Friday.’
Gabriel started to speak, then stopped as Malcolm brought the flat of his hand crashing down on the newsprint again, making us both jump. ‘And this? Graffiti sprayed at the station?’
Malcolm leant across his desk and swung his computer screen round. The Daily News website showed a picture of a train pulling into Northstone.
‘I didn’t even know about that! And apparently it happened yesterday!!’ He carried on thumping. ‘Rebels paint the town red? What sort of a caption is that?’
He glared at Gabriel. ‘You tipped off a national over your own paper, you sneaky little git, and they couldn’t even come up with a decent headline.’
He shook his head, looking for a moment genuinely bereft.
‘It was eggs and flour, dammit!’ he exploded. He looked back at me. ‘How could they miss that? It’s sheer incompetence. I saw it straight away. “DFLs take a battering!”’
I gave an involuntary snort of laughter, which I tried to strangle as I saw the alarm on Gabriel’s face.
Malcolm swung around to him, in fresh fury. ‘That should have been bloody obvious, even to a simpleton like you.’
‘I didn’t,’ began Gabriel.
‘YOU DID!’ roared Malcolm, making me jump again. ‘Don’t take me for a fool, boy!’ He took a step towards Gabriel, who had gone slightly pale. ‘You gave them this story and don’t you dare try to deny it.’
Gabriel flicked an anxious glance at me. ‘I mean I had nothing to do with the headline.’
Malcolm looked at him witheringly and I saw Gabriel shrink. ‘Of course you didn’t. Nobody would ask you, would they? You can’t do anything. You’re just a brainless, ill-educated, inane, gibbering TWERP.’
‘Malcolm!’ I was shocked into response. ‘Really, stop now, that’s nasty …’
Malcolm threw me a look of pity. ‘You can be Mother Teresa if you want to, but there’s no room in this office for disloyal idlers. Clear your desk, you little bastard …’
‘Malcolm!’ I shrieked again, seeing Gabriel now looked stricken. ‘That’s enough!’
Malcolm slammed shut the paper, folded it up, tucked it beneath his arm and strode towards the door. ‘If you still want breakfast, I’m going now,’ he said without looking at me, and disappeared across the open-plan office.
I put a hand on Gabriel’s arm. He was standing very still. ‘He can’t just sack you,’ I said quietly. ‘There are laws and regulations. He’ll have to give you a warning – I’ll talk to him.’
Gabriel gazed back at me, shaken. ‘It wasn’t meant to happen like that,’ he said. ‘I was pitching a feature to them as Malcolm wasn’t interested any more – about the effects of the high-speed on the community, the rising house prices and the backlash against the DFLs and newcomers benefiting at the expense of the locals.’ He took a big breath. ‘The editor of the Sunday magazine liked it but he said I didn’t have enough. He said they’d need concrete evidence it was a concerted campaign. He said so far it sounded like a dispute with neighbours.’
Gabriel stopped and breathed again. ‘So I told them about the eggs and that someone had sprayed an anti-DFL slogan at the station – I was just trying to stay in touch – to show I was gathering the proof. I never thought it would be run as a news stor
y …’ Gabriel stopped and looked miserable. ‘They probably don’t want the feature now and I’ve lost my job.’
I gave his arm a squeeze. ‘I’m sure Malcolm will calm down,’ I said. ‘I’ll go and find him,’ I added, as Emily appeared, also looking traumatised, with two mugs. ‘You two have them,’ I told her. ‘And try not to panic,’ I finished as Gabriel sank into a chair outside Malcolm’s office. I left Emily hovering over him solicitously and went back downstairs to reception, where Grace was on the phone.
I waved a hand in farewell before I realised I didn’t know where I was going. I waited until the receiver had been crashed back into place.
‘Oh Grace, where is Stan’s?’ I asked nicely.
She frowned. ‘Opposite Nat West.’ There was a pause while she scrutinised me. ‘You religious?’
I frowned too. ‘Not particularly.’
‘Hmm.’ She went back to her keyboard, leaving me blinking.
Was she suggesting I needed help from The Above to deal with Malcolm?
‘Thanks,’ I said, as I pushed at the door. She didn’t answer.
I found Malcolm already in front of a coffee and a plate of toast.
‘I didn’t know if you were coming or were too busy mollycoddling that idiot boy,’ he said, by way of greeting. ‘I’m having the power plate – what do you want?’
I looked at the board. If I missed a call from Paul I’d have to pretend I’d been opening the door to the postman, who then collapsed and needed mouth-to-mouth. ‘Erm, just eggs on toast would be great. Scrambled, perhaps.’
Malcolm rapped out the order to a small thin man in a striped apron and then looked into his cup in disgust.
‘It’s not going to taste the same now,’ he said crossly. ‘Do you want a job as a reporter? At least you’re half-way intelligent.’
‘You’re not really going to sack him, are you?’
‘I certainly am. Ungrateful little twerp. All the training I’ve given him. And he goes to someone else. When was he going to tell me about the graffiti? We could at least have got it up on the website first.’
‘They could have found out about it on Twitter anyway,’ I offered.
Mum in the Middle Page 23
