by Nell Dixon
Tracey was waiting for me when I arrived.
“There’s a parcel come for you.” She indicated a large brown box sitting at the back of the counter.
“I’m not expecting anything.” While I sometimes got sent promo items they tended to be CD’s or books that people hoped I’d get Steph to plug on her show. Usually they were from people I’d never heard of pedalling scary pseudo-religious theories or wonder diets. This box was too big to be CD’s or books. “Who is it from?”
Tracey shrugged. “Don’t know.”
“It’s not ticking is it?” I eyed the box suspiciously.
“Don’t be daft. It feels quite light.” She handed me a pair of scissors so I could open the box.
Carefully, I slit open the tape to reveal another box bearing the name of a well-known lingerie company.
“Ooh, looks like Ben has sent you something.” Tracey leaned in over my shoulder.
“Why would Ben send me something here? He only lives upstairs.” This wouldn’t be Ben’s kind of thing at all. The one thing I’d learned in the time I’d known him was that he was very private.
I opened the inner box to reveal a skimpy satin negligee in a tacky coral colour with black lace trim. Definitely not the kind of thing Ben would go for.
“Is there a card?” Tracey asked as I stuffed the offending garment back in the box.
I rummaged around in the tissue paper. It would be like Neil to send something like this but after yesterday he was probably busy trying to get back in Tamsin’s good books. I found the corner of a card and lifted it out.
“Uh oh.” Tracey sighed as she read it. “Looks like you need to make another trip to the cop shop.”
My stalker had struck again.
‘A beautiful woman deserves beautiful things.’
“Creepy and with bad fashion sense.” I dropped the card back in the box. Tracey was right: I needed to take it down the police station.
“Maybe the police will be able to find out who placed the order.” Tracey suggested.
“Maybe.” I knew it would be no good trying to find out on my own. The shop would simply quote the data protection act to me.
Merv appeared with a sheaf of papers in his hand and a frown on his forehead. “Why are you hanging around in here, Lark? Don’t you have things to do?”
“Her stalker struck again.” Tracey used her pen to lift the edge of the negligee from the box.
Merv’s already unhealthy complexion turned a deeper shade of puce as he viewed the lingerie. “You’d better nip to the police station then, Lark. Steph had dead roses and a threatening note left on her car yesterday.”
Tracey and I exchanged glances. I hadn’t heard this bit before.
“That’s freaky.” She shuddered.
I spent the rest of the afternoon at the police station and texted Ben and Shelly when I had a chance. Shelly was only five minutes behind me when I got back to my flat She scurried into the lounge. “Oh my God, Chloe, I really hope the police will be able to find out who sent that parcel.”
“Me too. They weren’t very impressed though. They said it wasn’t an offence to send someone lingerie anonymously and there wasn’t a threat on the card.” I made her a cup of tea while we discussed the stalker and the surprise visit from Neil. It was nice to catch up and to have company. The package and finding out about the note left for Steph had made me jumpy.
I was surprised and hurt that I hadn’t heard anything from Ben. I’d been checking my phone every two minutes after I’d sent him the message about being at the police station.
“I think he’s gone off me,” I said to Shelly as we broke open a packet of chocolate digestives.
“Rubbish.” She licked melted chocolate from her fingers from where she’d dunked her biscuit.
“Well then why is he avoiding me and not answering my texts?” I hoped she’d come up with something convincing.
“Well, I don’t know but it could be anything. Maybe his phone fell down the loo or it’s out of charge or his sister’s not well or his Mum or he’s gone undercover for a big story or…”
“Whoa!” I stopped her there before she could come up with anything wilder. “I get the picture.”
Shelly eyed the last biscuit left in the packet. “You did ask. All I was doing was pointing out that there were lots of reasons why he hasn’t called or texted you yet.”
“I know. I would like something to go right for me for once, that’s all.” Ben was the best thing that had happened to me for a long time. I’d hoped he would be the last of my long run of crap men. I slid the biscuit packet over to Shelly.
“It will be all right. Ben really likes you. You don’t want it to go too fast do you?” She dived on the biscuit.
She was right. Things had certainly moved too fast with Neil, and look how well that had turned out.
“No, you’re right. I need to stop stressing. I think it’s this stalker business that has me so wound up. At first it was cute and flattering but now it’s starting to scare me. Not so much the presents, although that’s icky but if it’s the same person who damaged Ben’s car and sent Steph dead flowers and a death threat then it’s pretty horrible.”
“I know what you mean. Listen if you want to stay with me for a while or if you want me to come here then all you have to do is say.” Her eyes were dark with concern.
“Thanks, Shelly. It’s not so bad when Ben is home as I know there’s someone upstairs. Being by myself has never bothered me before but when his car was damaged I started to wonder who might be watching me.”
She screwed up the empty biscuit wrapper and lobbed it into my wastepaper basket. “I’m sure the police will find out who it is soon.”
Shelly stayed to help me pick out an outfit for the TV Company interview. After all what do you wear to try and impress people who’ve seen you looking like a giant Easter chick with an incontinent snake as your accessory du jour?
I was much calmer by the time she went. My earlier panic and paranoia had settled somewhat and I felt okay about being alone in the flat. Hopefully I’d hear something from Ben soon or at least he would be home and I’d have someone else in the building with me.
I hoped Shelly was right when she’d said it was probably some stupid reason why I hadn’t heard from him. It would be awful if something bad had happened to him or to Tash. I had just turned out the kitchen lights ready to make my way to bed when I heard the rumble of a car engine. A sneaky peek through my blind told me Ben was home.
The sound of the engine cut off and I heard his key in the outside door. I held my breath wondering if he would ring my bell. Instead I heard him enter the lobby, hesitate for a fraction of a second, and then the stairs creaked as he made his way to his flat.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Lark, get your butt into the studio, ASAP.”
My eyes were still closed but it definitely wasn’t daylight yet. I had obviously woken in the middle of a nightmare. I could have sworn I’d heard Merv’s voice yelling at me.
“Lark! Flaming heck, have you gone back to sleep? Get in here now. Steph’s sick and you’ll have to do the morning show.”
I unglued my eyes. It was Merv. I must have answered my mobile while I was still half asleep.
“'K, on my way.” I rolled out of bed and snagged the nearest clothes I could find from the pile on the floor. A tug of the brush through my hair and I was in the car on my way to the radio station.
The nearer I got to the studio the more awake I became. By the time I pulled onto the almost deserted car park my adrenaline had well and truly kicked in. What was wrong with Steph? And how come Merv had asked me to cover for the morning show? I would have thought I was probably at the bottom of the list of cover staff, especially as Steph hated me.
Gail, the producer let me in through a side door. “You’ve got thirty minutes till airtime.”
I followed behind as she scurried down the darkened corridor towards studio one. My tongue had glued itself to
the roof of my mouth and I was desperate for a cup of tea.
“What’s happened to Steph? Where’s Merv?” I almost trod on Gail when she stopped suddenly just inside the studio.
“No idea. Merv called to say Steph was out sick and you were standing in. That’s as much as I know.” She clicked on the lights over the decks and began her prep work. “You look rough.” She peered at me as if suddenly realising that I wasn’t my usual perky self. “I’ll get you some tea.”
I managed a grateful smile as she vanished back into the corridor. I popped on a headset and started to familiarise myself with everything. The interviews I’d prepped from yesterday were there. Gail came back bearing a large steaming mug of tea and, joy of joys, two chocolate Hobnob biscuits. With five minutes to airtime I was pretty well set.
I’d stood in before on various shows. Usually, since Steph had started, I ended up doing the midnight-'til-two a.m. slot. The only people listening then were insomniacs, taxi drivers and shift workers. The last time I’d done the breakfast show had been shortly before Steph had joined the station, when the previous incumbent’s liver had rebelled due to his excessive alcohol consumption and he’d been carted off to hospital.
The sugar boost supplied by the tea and biscuits started to kick in along with a huge dose of nerves. I’d been okay while I’d been waking up and getting everything ready. Now, as the seconds counted down and I listened to the news coming through my headset as the other studio prepared to switch across I wanted to throw up.
* * *
Before I knew what had happened the show had ended and it was time to sign off. I flipped the switch and placed the headset down on the desk with shaking fingers. I’d done it. I’d presented the breakfast show again. Much as I disliked Steph I didn’t really want her to have plague or something. Though I couldn’t help but hope she might be ill for a while longer.
Merv was in reception as I went through. At least, now I’d already got my day in, I could go for my interview with the TV people with a clear conscience.
“Same time tomorrow, Lark.”
A ‘well done Chloe, thank you so much for doing the show, it was fab’ wouldn’t have gone amiss. However Merv being Merv, that was never going to happen. I wanted to ask about Steph but Tracey was gently shaking her head in the background. I’d have to ask her later when he wasn’t around to find out what was going on. Maybe Steph was pregnant and morning sickness had kicked in with a vengeance or it could have something to do with the fights she’d been having with Merv.
I signed out and headed to my car. A single long-stemmed red rose was jammed under the front wipers complete with a note. My fingers trembled as I tore the envelope open. The car park had filled up since my early morning arrival but I couldn’t see anyone behaving oddly.
‘Loved the show. Good to see you take what is rightfully yours.’
A shiver ran down my spine. Had my stalker done something to Steph? Was that why I’d been asked to do the show? Tracey had said Steph had received some very nasty death threats. It looked as if I would have to make yet another trip to the police station. Not that it would do any good as again there was no threat contained in the note. It was simply a congratulatory message which could be from a fan.
I checked my phone once I was inside my car and the doors were locked. Congratulation messages from Shelly and Bhangra Bob on a good show. Nothing from Ben.
All my excitement and pleasure at having finally done the breakfast show fizzled away to nothing. It had taken a big hit when I’d read the stalker note but Ben’s continuing silence killed it stone dead. I’d thought, hoped he would have messaged me with a ‘well done’ or ‘you were great’.
I sent replies to Bob and Shelly then took off for the police station. My train to London was only a couple of hours away and I needed to report the note, go home, shower, change and make myself look like a TV presenter in that time.
It took forever at the police station. I almost wished I hadn’t bothered, and they wouldn’t tell me anything about the progress of the case. They didn’t seem very interested in my latest note and rose. I was no clearer when I came away about whether an arrest was imminent or if something bad had happened to Steph.
There was barely time for me to shower and change before I had to belt off to the station. I ended up chucking my make-up into my bag along with my gas powered curling tongs. I’d have to try and fix my hair and my face on the way to the interview.
Luckily the train was on time for once so at least I didn’t have to stand around on the platform for ages. In my haste to get ready I hadn’t eaten anything since the biscuits Gail had given me. It was no surprise that my stomach was so empty I thought I might actually pass out. I ended up parting with a small fortune for a sandwich, some crisps and a rather stale doughnut from the buffet car.
The doughnut threatened to reappear as I made my way via taxi to the address I’d been given. For one thing the driver was obviously a frustrated grand prix wannabe and the second was that I was so nervous I could barely remember my own name by the time I arrived.
The TV company offices were housed in a genteel Victorian villa. The building didn’t look very prepossessing from the outside. Only a discreet silver coloured plaque on the wall outside next to the door intercom confirmed that I was in the right place. I wished Shelly could have taken the time from work to come with me. Unfortunately she was still in the doghouse with her employer from when she’d accompanied me to the hospital after the abseil incident.
I pressed the buzzer and announced my name to the disembodied metallic robot enquirer. The box on the wall crackled something inaudible back at me and the door opened. I found myself in a modern open plan space totally at odds with the exterior of the building.
A very polished-looking blonde haired woman scrutinised me from behind a pale ash wood and chrome desk.
“Um, I’m Chloe Lark, here for an interview about a programme.”
“Oh yes, sign in and then take a seat. Vera will be down shortly.” She graciously inclined her head towards a clipboard on the desk.
I did as I was told and then waited for the mysterious Vera to come and collect me. I didn’t recall Vera as the person I’d spoken to on the phone but then again I hadn’t taken much in at the time. I shifted uncomfortably on my hyper modern steel chair and wished they had some magazines to read.
“Cleo Laine?” A woman of about my mother’s age arrived in front of me in a swirl of colourful batik fabric and a tinkle of bracelets.
“Chloe Lark.”
She peered at me over the top of her glasses. “Oh, so you aren’t a jazz singer?” Her mouth drooped with disappointment as I shook my head. “Oh, that’s too bad.”
“I was asked to come for talks about a new programme. I’m Chloe Lark, from Live it Up radio. The girl with the snake?” Maybe I should have worn my ghastly yellow sweater and cap.
The woman frowned and squinted at me. “Oh yes, silly me, I remember now. Follow me.”
She led the way through a set of glass doors. I’m sure I saw the receptionist roll her eyes heavenwards as we left. I trailed behind as the woman swished her way up the stairs in front of me.
“I can’t think what made me think that you were Cleo Laine, dear me. I did want to ask you all about Johnnie Dankworth though. I’m terribly fond of jazz.” She stopped suddenly in front of a glass door.
Peering over her shoulder I saw two men and a couple of empty seats all grouped around a table. A bubble of nervous laughter began to build in the back of my throat. I hoped they didn’t think I was Cleo Laine as well. I swallowed my nerves back down. I had a horrid feeling this would be like the Blue Peter audition all over again.
I was ushered inside and commanded to sit by my escort who promptly took the other vacant chair.
“Chloe, we’re delighted you could come today. That clip of you on You Tube with that snake.” The older man of the two shook his head, a big grin on his face. “Honey, I nearly peed myself laughing. Then, w
hen I read about that abseil thing?” He shook his head again.
His male companion laughed as if the older man had said something witty. I managed a weak smile and hoped I didn’t repeat my abseil performance of throwing up on his shoes before passing out. Personally, I didn’t think anything that had happened to me had been that hilarious.
Vera, who my mystery escort turned out to be, informed them that I wasn’t Cleo Laine. At that point the whole meeting took on a crazily surreal feeling. Vera was banished to make coffee and herbal tea while my companions discussed what they might do with me, TV-wise, of course. I attempted to comment a few times and ask questions but they ignored anything I said and carried on as if I hadn’t spoken.
In the end I sipped my nasty-tasting ginger and redcurrant tea and gave up. Eventually it appeared they wanted me to do a short series of programmes based on my Challenge Chloe slot. They intended to try for interest in a pilot with the intention of it leading up to becoming a series.
I vaguely remembered agreeing to them sending me a contract before I shook hands all around and exited the building. I’d never been so glad to escape from somewhere in my life. It had been even worse than Blue Peter and that was saying something, considering after that audition I’d been rushed off to casualty covered in red weal’s and itching like crazy.
They’d asked about my agent and I’d given them Shelly’s name and address telling them she was new to the business. She did work for a law company after all and maybe I’d be able to get an agent when the contract materialised. If the contract materialised. I set off back towards the station thinking that Ben had been right when he’d tried to warn me about the downside of fame.
I checked my phone once more when I was on the train and sent a quick text to Shelly to warn her that she was now my agent. There was still nothing at all from Ben. I hesitated for a minute wondering what to do. I didn’t want to chase him but it seemed odd that he was simply blanking me. Finally I decided to send him a
‘U ok?’
