Kiss and Tell
Page 47
An even louder gasp went up from the audience when a man came out onto the staircase and walked elegantly and steadily down towards the stage. He was handsome and beautifully dressed in a lightweight cream suit and a shirt of pale blue. Hawksby was dabbing his face with the grey silk handkerchief.
“Hallo, Jeremy,” the man intoned in a smooth voice. “I’m Nigel. You won’t remember me. And I guarantee you won’t want to. I was only a child when you abused me at school. I suppose I’m here to show what a wonderfully rounded character you are ... at least in terms of sexual preference. AC / DC, I think is the term for what you are. That’s why I could never understand why you were so beastly to everybody else.”
Hawksby was on his feet, pulling at his collar. Marnie wondered if he was going to have a seizure and worried that it might spoil the show. The newspaper editor staggered off towards the wings as the man in the cream suit continued, speaking direct to the front camera. A red light glowed on top. It was transmitting.
“We have all signed affidavits in front of lawyers this afternoon, all three of us. We are all willing to testify in court if Mr Hawksby seeks legal redress. If he doesn’t, you’ll know why. Well, Mr Gallagher, I think that’s the end of your show. Goodnight.”
With that, he put an arm round the shoulders of both women and walked them off in the opposite direction to the one taken by Hawksby.
Marnie leaned over to Anne. “I think I’ve stopped breathing.”
“I think Hawksby probably has, too,” Anne said.
“What did you think, Anthony?”
“Words fail me, frankly. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Marnie said, “When they started coming onto the set, I thought you might be tempted to join in.”
He shook his head. “No need to, Marnie. It was perfect. You should’ve been a general in the army. It was a total rout.”
The members of the audience were talking heatedly among themselves. The guests and celebrities on the set were in huddles. Even the camera crews, who thought they had seen everything in their time, were arguing about what had happened. There had been little instruction from the gallery, and they were now feeling exposed for keeping the show running.
Anthony stood up. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
It had stopped raining, and the streets were glistening. In the car, swishing its way through traffic, Marnie put her face in her hands.
“Are you all right?” Anne said from the back seat. “You’re not going to be ill are you?”
“No, I’m fine, just a little shell-shocked. I can’t get over what happened in there tonight. Up till now I’d never thought Lifelines was any more dangerous than Blue Peter.”
Anne and Anthony laughed, and they made steady progress back to Little Venice. They left the car in a long-term parking slot, and Anthony quietly disappeared on board Rumpole. Lights were on in Mrs Jolly’s house, and Marnie rang the bell as she used the key to open the front door.
“We’re back, Mrs Jolly.”
“Wonderful timing, my dears. Have you eaten?”
“Not really. I can go and get pizzas, if you like. There’s a place round the corner.”
“That sounds like fun,” said the old lady. “I think I’ve got one of those bottles of Italian wine wrapped in raffia. We can have that with it. What a pretty skirt that is, Anne. Have you been shopping?”
“Not exactly.” To Anne everything felt surreal.
“Well, you can tell me all about it when we have our pizza.”
“Okay. Shall I lay the table?”
“Thank you, dear.”
Marnie turned back to the front door with a sense of detachment from reality.
“Where did you go this evening?” Mrs Jolly asked. “I can’t remember if you told me.”
“We went to see the TV programme, Lifelines.”
“Really. I must say I don’t watch that as a rule. All rather predictable, don’t you think? All that gushing. It strikes me as rather insincere. Still, if you liked it, I wouldn’t want to spoil your fun.”
Marnie and Anne exploded with laughter.
Mrs Jolly looked bewildered. “I’ve said something silly, haven’t I?”
43
Marnie drove the hire car that morning while Anthony dozed on the back seat. Anne sat in the front, but there was no need for her skills at map reading. They were going home.
Knowing that Mrs Jolly was an early riser – Always have been, my dear, since I was a girl growing up in the country, and now, at my age, I get by with very little sleep – Marnie had asked if they could leave early on Friday morning to miss the traffic. She had waved them off – after insisting on providing coffee and toast – with wishes for a safe journey and a happy outcome to their plans.
Marnie had wanted to let Anthony return to his house in Putney, but his borrowed boat needed to be brought back to London from Glebe farm to await decisions about its future. So it was that the three of them headed north up the motorway as the sun was rising on a hazy late spring morning. Anne lay back against the headrest and closed her eyes, contented. Marnie admired her friend’s resilience after all that had happened in the past week. She reached across to squeeze Anne’s arm gently and could almost imagine her purring beside her. Marnie’s thoughts turned to Dolly, wondering how the cat was coping with the stress of living through a gun battle. Stability and a normal life were her greatest wish now that the Anthony campaign was over.
They had a clear run in light traffic, and soon Marnie was turning off the main road towards Knightly St John. It was wonderful to be coming home without fear of harassment. There was no need to hide or cover their tracks. They were normal people again. Marnie turned into the high street and drove past the village shop. Leaning against the wall was a bicycle, and she caught a glimpse of Molly Appleton inside, bundling the newspapers for delivery. By an automatic reflex she found her foot moving towards the brake pedal, but thought better of it and motored past without stopping. She made a vow not to buy any papers that day; a symbolic gesture that their lives would not be dominated by the press for the first time in weeks.
Past the church and the pub, Marnie turned down the field track to Glebe Farm and parked beside the office barn. Ralph’s Volvo was back in its usual place. As she got out and stretched her legs in the pale sunshine, a hand waved in the front window of cottage number one. Marnie waved back to Jill Burton. Two bottles of milk stood guard by the office door. It was a perfect morning.
Walking through the spinney towards the boats and a second breakfast, Marnie realised that Anthony had not spoken on the entire journey.
“You’re very quiet this morning,” she said to him.
“Mm ... feeling rather tired, bit of a headache, probably the strain of events. It sometimes gets me like this.”
“Same here. But for once I’m feeling fine. Do you think you’ll feel better after something to eat?”
“Actually, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go and have a lie down.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“No. It’s okay. I’ll be all right.”
They split up by Sally Ann, and Anthony turned towards his boat, moored beyond Thyrsis.
Unlocking the door of Sally Ann, Marnie said quietly, “I’ll look in later and see how he is. He might be going down with a migraine.”
“He’s looking very pale,” Anne agreed.
Marnie was pushing the hatch open when a movement in the spinney made her look up. For a second her instinct was to be suspicious, but it was Ralph on his morning walk. She jumped ashore and hugged him.
“Oh Ralph, it is so good to be back!”
“Absolutely.” He held her tight. “I heard about the Lifelines programme. My god!”
“Do you think there’ll be repercussions?”
“Definitely. I thought that was the idea.”
“Will I be in trouble?”
He smiled and shook his head. “Let’s talk over breakfast.”
*
“Hallo. Is that Anne?”
“Marlene!” Anne exclaimed. Marnie and Ralph looked up. “I was going to ring you. Are you all right?”
“More than all right.” It was the first time Anne had ever heard her sound like a normal girl. “I’m so relieved it’s all over.”
“Where are you? Do you want to come and stay with us, have a break?”
“I’d love to, but, well, after the programme I phoned mum and dad …”
“And?”
“They want me to go home. They saw the programme. They were so shocked, mum said dad was in tears. He wanted to phone the TV studio.”
“But they had no idea how to contact you.”
“I know. Anyway, I rang them and mum was crying on the phone. Then dad came on and he was crying. I thought they’d put Jenny on next – that’s their Jack Russell – but she’d probably cry as well.”
Anne laughed. “That’s brilliant! So when are you going?”
“I’m at Euston station now. They said I had to come home straight away – first class! Dad’s treat.”
“Great,” said Anne. “But I’m sorry I’ll not be seeing you. Would you like to come here some time?”
“You bet! When things have settled down a bit. I’ve got some serious thinking to do about my future. I never thought I’d have one. I’m not going to mess things up this time.”
They agreed to keep in touch, and Anne hung up after giving Marlene good wishes from Marnie and Ralph.
“I’m really really pleased for Marlene,” said Anne. “I can hardly believe everything worked out in the end. Phew!”
“You can say that again,” said Marnie. “I think we were amazingly lucky to get away with it.”
“We’re lucky to be alive!” said Anne with feeling.
“Of course, but then everything we’ve done since Anthony arrived has been crazy when you think about it.”
“Totally,” said Ralph. “And yes, you were lucky. We’ve all been lucky. It’s been a very close run thing.”
“And there really will be no repercussions after what happened on Lifelines?”
“According to the radio, it was ‘sabotage by persons unknown’. There’ll be an inquiry, of course, but the view is that they’d been following Hawksby and trailed him to the TV theatre by chance. They somehow infiltrated the studio – a window in the toilets was mysteriously found to be open – and hid until they could get to the stage. Because there are always various guests and hangers-on milling around the back, no-one thought they were suspicious characters until it was too late.”
“And they won’t get into trouble?”
“What for, telling the truth? It hasn’t yet been made a crime. And Hawksby won’t dare take action against them. He doesn’t want a rerun of the whole thing in a court of law. It would be like printing newspapers for the Globe’s rivals.”
“What about Becky Thornton? Will they find out she leaked the news of his appearance to me?”
“She only has to keep quiet, and no-one can prove anything. She’s just one member of a big team, and there are no links between her and the three infiltrators. No-one saw her fit them up with lapel microphones.”
“Good.” Marnie was relieved. “No harm done, then ... except to Hawksby.”
“No. I suspect Lifelines won’t be broadcast live any more, but that’s no great hardship. Oh, there is one other result, in many ways the most serious of all.”
Marnie and Anne frowned in unison. “What is it?”
“Well, it’s an open secret – put about by Hawksby himself, of course – that he was about to be awarded a knighthood. It’s always been his burning ambition.”
“O god,” said Marnie.
Anne’s mouth opened in disbelief.
“Wait for it,” said Ralph. “I’ve heard, very confidentially, that the offer is being withdrawn. We can never talk about it, but my source is entirely reliable, as they say.”
“That’s great,” said Marnie. “The main thing is that Hawksby knows it. It’s only a pity it can’t be made public.”
“I wouldn’t count on that.”
“An unattributed leak?”
Ralph nodded. “From an entirely reliable source, I wouldn’t wonder.”
“Good. That means we can start to put it all behind us ... at last.”
*
They revelled in the idea of being ordinary again. Marnie and Anne went to fetch bags from the boot of the Mondeo and took everything back to Sally Ann for sorting while Ralph showered and changed. There would follow an orgy of washing, hoovering and tidying up. Anne wondered what to do with Melissa’s clothes and decided to wash and iron them and give them back to Anthony. Marnie had declared that after checking the post and the messages, they would have a three-day weekend and go for trips on Sally Ann. This was unanimously agreed.
“What do we do about Anthony?” Anne asked. “Do we invite him along?”
“That depends on his plans,” said Marnie. “He should be able to sort out his life from now on. But I think at least for today we should leave him to recover. My guess is he’ll want to set off for London without delay. In his place, I’d be away tomorrow. A journey on the canal will help restore his spirits. It never fails.”
“What do you think he’ll do now ... with his life, I mean?”
Marnie shrugged. “Dunno. I have a suspicion he’ll try to hang on as an MP. What do you think?”
“Not sure,” said Anne. “Ralph says Mr Major thinks he’s a liability.” As an afterthought she added, “I wonder how he is.”
“Perhaps I should look in on him,” Marnie offered.
“No, I’ll go. If he’s awake and sees you, he’ll want to talk about plans and we’ll never get our tootle on Sally. If he’s got a headache I’ll see if he’s got any tablets. Okay?”
“All right,” Marnie agreed. “Don’t be long.”
On the way to Anthony’s boat, Anne thought of the care he had taken of her when she was drenched. That wonderful soak in the bath, and Anthony lending her the fresh clothes had revived her. She resolved that if he was still sleeping, she would find him something for his headache. She would simply leave it near at hand for when he woke up. Passing Thyrsis, she heard Ralph singing in his shower, a rousing version of the Beatles’ Yellow Submarine, and she smiled broadly. It was great to be back.
Anne stepped silently down through the side hatch of Anthony’s boat. Inside, she paused, listening for any sounds, and moved noiselessly towards the sleeping cabin. When she peeped in, Anthony was lying on his side on the bed fully clothed, facing away from her, breathing steadily. She tiptoed along to the shower room and opened the medicine cabinet.
*
Marnie rummaged in a cupboard under the galley workbench and found a black plastic sack. She poured the entire contents of her overnight bag into it, apart from her sponge bag. Anne’s things followed, including the clothes she had worn the previous evening, Melissa’s last purchases. They made Melissa seem all the more real, not just a story in a newspaper, and all the more tragic. Rest in peace, Marnie thought.
The last bag was Anthony’s. She pulled open the zip fastener and took out a small document case. It was of fine quality leather with his initials embossed in the corner, and she laid it on the table. There was also a sponge bag, a pair of leather slippers and a camera case. The remaining contents were clothes, and she tipped them all into the sack.
Dolly rubbed her side against Marnie’s leg.
“Have you forgiven us for leaving you behind and for everything else, Dolly? Come for a cuddle.” She picked her up, and the purring increased in volume as Marnie rubbed her face into fur that felt like thick-pile carpet. “Look how untidy I’m making it in here, Dolly. This will never do.”
Marnie set the cat down on her favou
rite chair and, while Dolly washed herself, began gathering the things together. One by one she put them in her own overnight bag to take them up to the office barn. She noticed that the camera was a Polaroid like the one she used for work. Perhaps Anthony had kept a record of his time on the boat. Perhaps he was already thinking of producing his memoirs, illustrated with photos and some of Kate’s sketches. Some newspapers would probably pay a fortune for his story, especially if it would discredit Jeremy Hawksby and the Globe empire. How ironic that he might now earn pots of money from the very sector that he had been trying to escape. Marnie shook her head. Funny old world.
She liked the document case. It was very smart, probably Italian, beautifully stitched. She went to pick it up, not realising that it was open, and a collection of papers slipped out onto the table. Reaching over to gather them up, she saw that they were photographs, Polaroids. Without curiosity, she patted them together to put back in the case. As she did so, something caught her attention and she paused. She did not mean to look, but there was something that drew her eyes more closely. Barely visible near the top edge of one photo was a head. More precisely, it was a hairstyle that was unmistakable: very short, very pale blond, very familiar.
Marnie moved the photo out of the folder to reveal the rest of the head. She had been right. Why did Anthony have a picture of Anne? Perhaps he had photos of all of them. The last thing she wanted was to feature in newspaper stories of Anthony’s time in hiding. She picked up the folder to examine the photographs. But they were not a collection of all of them. Every one was of Anne, and as she studied them, Marnie felt her cheeks glowing. Here was Anne pulling off a sweatshirt. Here she was standing looking at clothes, holding up a skirt and a blouse. Next, she was bending over, swirling water in a bath with her hand. There must have been a dozen or more. And in all of them Anne was naked.
For a second she saw how Anne had changed in the two years that she had known her. She was no longer just a skinny girl, but developing a charming slim figure, the kind that could appeal to someone who liked young girls with boyish lines. Marnie pushed the photos back into the folder, overcome with sadness and anger to think that her friend had been defiled, but unsure what to do. Her instinct was to confront Anthony and demand an explanation. How could he have taken the photos? Anne was obviously completely unaware that she was being watched. What should she do?