by Clare Chase
He must have heard my tone. ‘Oh good lord no.’ Another pause, during which he was no doubt trying to think of how to make himself sound more convincing. ‘No. Apart from anything else, it’s not just you he’s distanced himself from. I don’t know when I last heard from him. I think he’s pulled back from all the university gang. I spoke to Jez the other day, and I mentioned you were doing this interview for Seb. He was interested. Like you and me, he said he’d been pretty much cut off.’
‘He put it like that: cut off?’
‘Uh-huh. Apparently he’d emailed Seb a couple of times when he was going to be in London, tried to get back in touch. Seb had just blanked him, so eventually he gave up.’
‘Did it hurt his feelings?’
‘Not really. He knows what to expect from Seb by now. What I’m saying is, I’m sure it’s nothing to do with you personally. After what happened, I guess we all felt Seb was entitled to a little leeway. It would just be nice if he got past that eventually, that’s all.’
When he rang off there was nothing to save me from the article. At least it would help pay the bills. Once I’d got it cracked, I put on the radio to listen to the news and went back to the clutch bag I was working on. I’d embroidered five tiny birds against the sunset, and was planning to add another couple. I was just about to finish up when there was a knock at the door.
‘Come on in,’ I said, wishing I could add, ‘unless you’re Alicia.’
It wasn’t her. It was Sally. She rushed in and closed the door behind her, leaning against it as though warding off an attack. Then she burst out laughing. ‘Can you believe she’s been on at me ever since you came upstairs?’
‘Good grief. You ought to get a reduction in rent for that.’
She laughed again. ‘She’s been through everything you can imagine, from my attitude to work, to my style of dress, and does my uncle know how late I stay out? I mean, I had to remind her I was twenty-two.’
I felt older than ever. ‘Would you like a drink?’ I said.
She nodded.
I glanced at my watch, probably compounding all her ideas about me being far too grown-up, and came to the conclusion that it was wine time. ‘Red or white?’
‘Red thanks.’ She wandered round my room. ‘I like it up here. You get a lovely view.’
It was true. It was already dark, but spread out to the rear of Alicia’s place the lighted windows of other town houses sparkled back at me through the branches of a willow and a eucalyptus. In the distance a bright light picked out a couple of cranes on a building site.
‘I love being in amongst everyone else,’ I said.
She nodded. ‘Yeah, I like that too. I wonder if that’s what Alicia enjoys as well. I mean, I can see I really get on her nerves – in fact, everyone seems to get on her nerves – and yet, she still has us here, doesn’t she?’
It wasn’t something I’d ever thought about before, but Sally was right. Alicia could certainly afford to keep the place to herself if she wanted to.
‘Do you think she gets lonely on her own?’ said Sally.
It was a weird thought. ‘That would imply she’s capable of human frailty,’ I said. ‘But on the other hand, I can’t actually think why else she would have us.’
‘Unless she just loves luring people in here so she can boss them around.’
‘That does seem rather more likely.’
‘What were her parents like?’
I grinned and sipped my wine. ‘Are you wondering whether she’s got a good excuse to be the dragon she is?’
She shrugged. ‘She needs one.’
‘Agreed. Well, her father was just like she is: very exacting, a real perfectionist.’
‘He wasn’t a sergeant major was he?’
I sniggered. ‘He was in the army actually. A Field Marshall no less. He brought her up to despise weakness.’
‘And boyfriends.’
‘And drinking at lunchtime.’ I raised my glass.
‘Oh wow!’ Sally said suddenly, snatching up her red wine. ‘That is gorgeous!’
She went to pick up the bag I’d been working on. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust her but I did have a momentary flutter at the proximity of her drink to the rather pale silks.
‘Did you make it?’ she said, looking up at me, her eyes bright.
I nodded. ‘It’s just something I do to relax when things are a bit stressful.’
Sally grinned. ‘Well in that case I guess you’ll be making quite a few more whilst you’re living here at Alicia’s.’ She put the bag back down again and had another swig of wine. ‘You don’t think you could make me one, do you? I mean, I’d pay, obviously.’
‘You could just give me the money for the materials.’
‘No, no, that wouldn’t be fair. The thing is, I’ve been invited to this party by one of the regulars at Farquharson’s. I want to make the right impression, in case I meet the man of my dreams.’
‘Greg’s not the man of your dreams then?’
She smiled, but didn’t comment. Poor Greg.
‘Anyway,’ she said. ‘I’ve got loads of bags, but they suddenly all seem a bit run of the mill; you know, the kind everyone wants and saves up for and then suddenly everyone has. But something like that,’ she waved a hand in the direction of my bag, ‘would definitely create the right impression.’
By the time Sally left, I’d had far more wine than I’d meant to, and that was on top of the lunchtime dose. I really needed to get some food inside me, but when I listened from the landing I could hear that Alicia was still in evidence. I waited until she’d gone back into her own lair and then trod lightly down the stairs. I wasn’t risking the kitchen, not tonight. Chatting with Sally had been fun, chatting with Alicia hadn’t, but now I just wanted peace and quiet. I let myself out of the house and walked towards Heath Street. The cold, damp air seemed to work its way inside my coat, increasing the already strong desire I had for heartening junk food. I went and got myself a burger and chips.
On the way home, I decided to cut along Back Lane. It didn’t really qualify as a deserted alley, I reflected. It might be empty of people just at the moment, but it was surrounded by houses, mostly with brightly lit windows.
As I walked along I could hear snippets of other people’s lives: someone laughing, a baby crying, a shout of ‘You’re kidding!’ and someone using a vacuum cleaner. The breeze lifted a little and the leaves that had already fallen stirred on the pavement. Ahead of me, a man was just letting himself into his house, a Waitrose bag over one arm.
I was about mid-way down the lane when my phone let out the familiar pip pip that told me I had a text. I pulled it out of my jeans pocket and glanced at the screen, then felt my breath catch. It read: ‘Are you avoiding me on purpose? Missed seeing more of you at the gallery. Call me. Max.’
Chapter Five
‘How did he get your number anyway?’
Sally had invited me in the moment I showed my face, clearly sensing gossip. I’d gone upstairs to eat my burger, and had now taken my indigestion downstairs again, feeling that I needed to talk to someone.
‘No real mystery in that. When I started out copywriting, I put my mobile number up on a couple of websites to try to get business. It was so long ago I’d forgotten about it; these days I just rely on word of mouth. But when I Googled, I found my details were still out there.’
‘But he was obviously pretty determined to track you down. I mean, he could have just left it, couldn’t he?’
‘True.’ And in fact, finding my number on the internet must have involved some searching. It would have taken more than just a minute of idle browsing time.
‘So?’
‘So?’ I echoed back.
‘Don’t be like that!’ she said. ‘So … what are you going to do?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I said. ‘Maybe I should call him. Otherwise I’ll always have this question mark in my head. It’s bugging me, not knowing what it’s all about.’
‘Oh th
ank God for that. I thought for a moment you were just going to leave it. I don’t think I could have coped with the mystery.’
‘I’m going to watch out though.’
‘Well, of course.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Everyone should always watch out.’
‘But if we arrange to meet I can make sure it’s during the day, somewhere nice and public.’ I was convincing myself as much as her.
‘I could come with you.’
I looked over at her long, gleaming hair, perfectly manicured nails and twenty-two-year-old figure. ‘It’s okay, thanks,’ I said. ‘Maybe I’d better just go alone. I don’t think I can come to much harm. In any case, this whole thing’s crazy. He seemed like a nice man.’
‘Whatever you say.’
I went back upstairs and stared at my mobile for twenty minutes, then at last I plucked up courage and called him. While the number rang, I played over in my mind what I wanted to say. I needed to get straight in there and tell him I knew he wasn’t Max. It didn’t make sense to arrange anything until we’d …
‘Hello?’
‘Max? It’s Anna.’
‘At last. I thought you were ignoring me. I tried to find you at the hotel where the almighty Shakespeare was doing his interviews, but you gave me the slip.’
‘I had to dash off quickly.’
‘You did?’ Something told me he knew I was lying. I don’t know how he’d worked it out.
‘So you must be busy then, if you had to dash away so urgently.’
I didn’t answer.
‘Too busy to come out with me?’
‘Not necessarily.’ A quivering sensation stirred in the pit of my stomach.
‘We never made it to that bar in Tanner’s Yard.’
I suddenly remembered the safeguards I’d been itemising to Sally. ‘Do they do lunches there?’
‘They do.’
‘Maybe a lunchtime meet up would be good.’
‘What happens in the evenings? Do all your clothes turn into rags or something?’
‘I’ve had too many late nights recently.’
‘Okay,’ he said, but I was sure he didn’t buy my excuse. ‘What about tomorrow, 1 p.m., at the bar in Tanner’s Yard? It’s called The Old Faithful.’
‘Okay, and Max?’
‘Yes?’
I paused for a moment. It was a great cavernous gap in our conversation, but at the same time it would be so much easier to tackle the identity thing face to face. ‘Actually, it doesn’t matter.’
Chapter Six
But in fact, of course, it did matter, I reflected as I stood waiting for a tube to St Paul’s on the day of our meet up. I could just sit there and chat away without finding out who he really was, and the longer I left it, the more awkward it would be. A rush of warm, rubbery-smelling air heralded the arrival of the train and I stepped on board. It wasn’t crowded, and I found somewhere to sit between an unsmiling woman with a recently-acquired perm and an empty seat, smeared with chewing gum.
So, as soon as I got there I would tackle him.
Well, that made me feel nervous enough, and then there was the fact that I actually hated meeting people in bars. What if I got there first and had to wait for ten minutes before he appeared? And then what if he never showed up at all? It would look as though I’d been intending to drink alone all along.
After leaving the train I walked over the Millennium Bridge. I should never have agreed to go to The Old Faithful anyway. It was probably some intimidating place full of old men. I should have suggested a quick coffee in a Starbucks or something like that. What was I thinking of, letting myself in for a boozy meal? Though obviously I could just have a Coke.
‘A gin and tonic please,’ I said, in reply to ‘Max’s’ question. I was still seeing him in inverted commas.
He had appeared out of the shadows, come straight over and pulled me into a hug. All the bells were ringing again, fireworks going off, the lot; just from that one fairly platonic gesture. Except that it didn’t feel platonic.
He turned to the barman. ‘And I’ll have a pint of Sambrook’s please, Dave.’
He knew the people here. I waited for Dave to get our drinks and call him something other than Max.
Instead the barman looked up at him and grinned as he started work on the pint. ‘Haven’t seen you in a long time.’
‘I’ve been out of the country, otherwise you wouldn’t have kept me away.’
‘Back for a bit now?’
‘There’s no knowing for sure, but I hope so, yes.’ He handed over a twenty pound note, and took his change and a menu. ‘It’s quite a pubby pub,’ he said, ushering me ahead of him to a table by an open fire, ‘which is one of the reasons I like it. When I am at home it’s nice to go somewhere that feels like the real thing. The food’s great too.’
I sat nearest the flames and gradually peeled off my scarf and layers. It was a pubby pub in a good way, I decided. The warmth didn’t just come from the fire. Dave was serving another customer now, beaming and reaching over to pat them on the shoulder. It was somewhere where you were welcomed in, and invited to hole up, away from the cold. Or whatever it was you were trying to escape … I wondered what had taken ‘Max’ out of the country.
‘Have you decided what you’ll have yet?’ he asked. We’d been scanning the same menu, his head very close to mine.
I stood up. ‘Macaroni cheese with the crusty bread please. I can go.’
‘You stay right there,’ he said, pressing on my shoulder so that I sat back down. ‘If I let you go up I might turn my back for a moment and find you’ve disappeared again.’
I gave him a look.
‘If you’re worried about paying your way I won’t stop you,’ he said. ‘But running away for a third time isn’t allowed.’
So I got a tenner out of my purse but stayed where I was. He did know I’d deliberately avoided him at The Prestwick then. He always seemed to be one step ahead of me.
He was talking to Dave again. I tried to hear what they were saying, but the place was filling up with the lunchtime trade and the ambient noise made it impossible.
He came back with another pint and a large glass of red wine for me. And I didn’t normally drink at lunchtimes; the wine at Farquharson’s had been a special treat. At least I was in training.
‘Dave’ll bring the food over,’ he said.
It was now or never. ‘I didn’t hear him call you Max.’
He was too quick, I knew, to miss this obvious hint. He paused for a moment, looking at me with one eyebrow raised. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘He wouldn’t.’
‘Why not?’ I held my breath.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever told him my name.’
‘Oh.’ I looked up and saw that Max was laughing. ‘What?’ I asked, letting my exasperation show at last.
‘Sorry,’ he said, recovering himself with an effort. ‘But the look on your face just then was a picture.’
I felt uncomfortable and took another sip of the wine, which was already going to my head.
‘So you know I’m not Max Conran then?’ he said, laughing again, his blue eyes fixed on mine when I looked up.
I nodded, feeling as though it was me who’d been keeping a secret. He didn’t seem remotely concerned that I’d found him out.
‘I suppose Seb Rice knows as well, does he? Is that why you sneaked off at the gallery?’
I nodded again and had the ridiculous urge to apologise.
He reached out and squeezed my hand until I looked him in the eye. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t straight with you,’ he said, and some more rockets went off before he let me go.
‘So,’ he looked at me, ‘does Seb know who I really am then? Do you?’
I shook my head. ‘I certainly don’t know. It’s been bugging me a bit. As for Seb, well, I don’t think he knew on the night of the private view. He might have found out by now I suppose. Radley – that woman who came and interrupted us – just said one of the team there knew you weren’t
Max Conran.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘That was unlucky,’ he said, taking a sip of his beer. ‘How the hell did they know that?’
‘The team member in question had been out with him, apparently.’
He roared with laughter again. ‘Max Conran mostly lives in France, so I reckoned I’d be totally safe using his persona. Lawrence certainly thought so.’
‘He was in on it then?’
‘Of course. His PA had to ring Radley Summers to change the details on the guest list. I thought it was one of the least risky stunts I’d ever pulled. Not that there’s much harm done.’
At that moment Dave appeared, gripping the plates of steaming food, his hands protected by red-striped oven gloves. Even under the current circumstances I noticed how good it smelled.
‘Wonderful,’ said ‘Max’, digging into steak and Guinness pie.
‘Max … I mean not-Max!’ I hadn’t started on my food, in spite of the smell and the fact that I was actually feeling slightly more relaxed now and consequently ravenous.
‘What?’
‘What do you mean what? You can’t just sit there eating like that. I’m still calling you Max. I don’t know who you are. I’ve heard of blind dates, but this is ridiculous!’ Oh my God. I’d called it a date. Where had that come from? I was going to have to have a mineral water next.
He looked at me again, with the same twinkle in his blue eyes. ‘I’d really rather stay as Max in fact.’
‘No way.’
He sighed. ‘Oh all right then. You’ll regret it though. My real name’s Darrick Farron.’
‘Darrick?’
‘I know. You see, I told you so. Max was much better.’
I thought about it. ‘It actually makes me think of Garrick, like the theatre, which seems quite appropriate, given that you’re obviously good at acting.’
‘Fair comment,’ he said, taking a draught of his beer and leaning back in his seat.
‘And so I know your name, but who are you? Why were you at Seb’s?’
‘If I tell you, will you eat up your food and stop looking at me like that?’
‘It’s a promise.’
