Fast and Loose

by Justine Elyot

  ‘I don’t know. It’s private. A bit embarrassing.’

  ‘There’s nothing embarrassing about online dating,’ said Jess reassuringly. ‘Everybody does it. Including Mehra’s fiancé, apparently.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Didn’t you hear? They broke up. She went snooping on his phone and found the Plenty of Fish app.’

  ‘Oh, God, how shit,’ I said, feeling guilty that her misfortune gave me a much-needed change of subject. ‘Poor Mehra. Is she OK?’

  ‘You’d know how she was if you’d been at home last night, instead of gallivanting with strange men,’ said Jess. ‘No, I’m joking. You’re entitled to go out with whoever you want, whenever you want.’

  Tilda coughed, clearly disagreeing with the ‘whoever you want’ clause.

  ‘But was he seeing other women, do you think?’

  Jess shrugged. ‘Dunno. Anyway, I’ve had more than enough of Mehra’s woes. I was up half the night being the shoulder to cry on. I only went to bed half an hour before you crept in. Ten to five!’

  She gave Tilda a significant look.

  ‘Ten to five?’ said Tilda. ‘So you shagged him on the first date? Who was he?’

  ‘Just some guy,’ I said uncomfortably. ‘Older than me.’

  ‘Married,’ said Tilda triumphantly.

  ‘No, not married,’ I said. ‘Just older. Pretty well-off, too.’

  ‘Sugar daddy,’ teased Jess. ‘You lucky bitch. Is he going to take you shopping?’

  ‘I doubt it. I probably won’t see him again.’

  ‘Was he that bad?’ They both cackled over their coffees.

  ‘No, I just don’t expect he’ll call again. It was a bit of fun, that’s all. I’m not really looking for a relationship.’

  Miles sighed audibly and started typing like fury, then Jess was called back by her manager and it was time to get to work.

  After twenty minutes of silent grammar-correcting, Tilda leaned over to me and spoke in an undertone.

  ‘I went round to Tom’s on Saturday,’ she said.

  My fingers slipped on the keys and a semicolon went where a comma should.

  ‘Did you? Why?’

  ‘To say goodbye. If he’s really leaving.’

  ‘Did you see him? Is he OK?’ The sentence I was working on blurred before my eyes.

  ‘Yeah. He was packing some stuff. We had a cup of tea together. It was really nice. Like old times. And before you ask, no, “cup of tea” isn’t a euphemism.’ She drew a long, gusty breath.

  ‘He’s definitely leaving then?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She paused. ‘He mentioned you.’

  ‘Did he?’

  ‘Yeah. Said he was sorry for messing you about. And he hoped I’d look out for you, and that you’d do the same for me.’

  ‘He said that?’

  She waited for me to look at her before replying.

  ‘I think he has feelings for you,’ she said. ‘Like, real feelings.’ There was no acrimony in her words, no jealousy or accusation. Just a kind of defeated resignation.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, and…look, I’m sorry about how I reacted to everything before. It was just a bit too raw. But I don’t blame you for getting with him, OK? I don’t blame you any more.’

  ‘Well,’ I said, my heart skipping wildly while I tried to keep my voice neutral, ‘it doesn’t matter now. He’s moving away.’

  ‘Yeah, but.’ She pressed her lips together and looked around the office before her eyes settled once more on me. ‘You should call him, maybe.’

  ‘Oh, Til,’ I said, knowing how hard it must be for her to accept that Tom and I had something worth saving.

  ‘Hey, don’t give me that look. I’m fine.’ She was all joviality again, but her eyes were a little too bright. ‘Nothing brings me down, babe, you know that.’

  ‘Yes.’ I smiled at her. ‘Maybe I’ll call him then. Thanks. You really are a friend.’

  ‘I know,’ she said hollowly. ‘Sorry, desperate for the loo.’ And she ran off before I could see what she really felt.

  I should have been happy to know that Tilda had given us her blessing, but I couldn’t help feeling that it was too late now. Tom was going to London, and I wasn’t. We could try the long-distance thing, but did that ever really work out? I’d made the decision, soon after starting my degree, that I wanted to settle here. The city was big enough to have excellent arts and leisure facilities, great shops, glorious parks and architecture, but it was small enough to know your way around and get into the countryside within twenty minutes. It had a comfortable, slightly Bohemian vibe that had always appealed to me, and the people were friendly and relaxed. I liked my job, liked my house share, liked my friends.

  London, of course, had unparalleled access to many, many aspects of life, but the thought of spending hours of my week on a cramped tube train made me feel sick. And, much as I loved Tom, I wasn’t ready to make him the central focus of my life in such a drastic way yet.

  Did I even trust him enough to let him loose in London? Would I spend my weeks miserably convinced that he was seeing other women? Perhaps it would be best to cut my losses now, after all. But I couldn’t. I knew I wasn’t strong enough to do that. I was in love with him.

  I drifted miserably over to the water cooler, wishing somebody could wave a magic wand and give Tom a brilliant job within a half-hour travelling radius. Jodie gave me a bright smile from her desk outside Ed’s office.

  ‘Cheer up,’ she said. ‘It’s Monday. We love Mondays at the Clarion. And Christmas is coming.’

  I smiled weakly at her, about to respond, when her phone buzzed and she picked it up.

  ‘Hello – oh, well, there’s nothing in the schedule. Let me double check…OK. I’ll just have a word with Mr Maguire and get back to you.’ She dialled through to Ed’s phone while I filled my cup, still brooding, her words fading out of my consciousness until they brought me sharply back into reality.

  ‘Haydon, Councillor Keane is in Reception and apparently he wants to see you urgently. I know he doesn’t have an appointment but…all right, I’ll go down and collect him.’

  I stared at her, aghast. Keane was coming up here! I put down the water and made a break for the toilets, but before I was halfway across the office, Chief Sub Dean stopped me, insisting on discussing a paragraph I’d excised from Friday’s edition, to the chagrin of one of the people involved in the article.

  ‘She’s on the phone now, Ella, and I think you need to explain to her yourself why you didn’t include the detail about her son’s St John’s training.’

  ‘I’ve told you,’ I flapped, ‘because of the word limit and it not really being relevant. Look, I’m really desperate for the toilet if you don’t –’

  ‘Ella, don’t give me the attitude! I’ve been happy with your work since you started here, and I think you have the potential to make Chief Sub one day, but –’

  ‘Oh, my God!’ I spluttered, seeing that the lift was on its way up. ‘Gotta go.’

  I turned and fled, watched by a considerable proportion of the office staff, pleased to have some minor drama to lift the Monday-morning blues.

  The lift display counted up inexorably. I was so close to the toilet door. So close. Did I have time? Could I shut myself in there and pretend acute diarrhoea for the duration of the meeting?

  The lift doors opened. I wasn’t going to make it. I made a sudden dramatic drop behind the desk of one of the advertising sales people and huddled there in a ball while Keane’s loud voice carried over the bleeping of phones and tapping of keys that provided our habitual sonic landscape.

  ‘…absolutely outrageous,’ he was saying.

  ‘Did you call the police?’ asked Jodie politely.

  ‘No, didn’t want any fuss…’

  He broke off. Why had he broken off?

  It took me a second or two to realise that Dean had caught up with me and now loomed over my hunched form, fairly quivering with perplexed ire.

/>   ‘Ella Cox, get up from there! What the hell is wrong with you?’

  ‘I…can’t,’ I whispered. ‘Sudden attack of…’

  ‘Is everything OK?’ Keane’s voice, with a note of amusement, addressing itself to Dean.

  I couldn’t move or speak. If I shut my eyes, perhaps he’d go away?

  But Ed came to the rescue, emerging from his office with a genial ‘Ah, Councillor.’

  ‘Haydon, good of you to make time for me.’

  I could hear from his voice that he was heading away towards Ed’s office. Perhaps it would be safe to stand up now.

  I was halfway to my feet when Dean ruined it all with a stentorian invocation of my name.

  It caused Keane and Ed to turn their heads and then all was lost.

  Ed simply frowned, but Keane froze, his eyes – black and otherwise – widening with shock.

  Dean wrangled my elbow in an effort to get me to move, but I was planted in position, unable to turn or look away.

  Keane stared in a stricken fashion for what seemed an eternity, then turned to Ed and muttered something that caused him to copy Keane’s goggle-eyed stare.

  ‘Are you sure?’ I heard him say.

  ‘Positive.’

  Ed cleared his throat. ‘Ella, er, would you step into my office, please?’

  I looked towards the lift. Escape was not an option. Keane would have hold of me before I could press the button.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked a bemused Dean, but I didn’t have time to furnish him with an answer.

  I walked instead to my doom, entering the office behind Keane, who then turned and glowered down at me while Ed shut the door and sat down at his desk.

  ‘You work here,’ said Keane, in a low voice, practically a growl.

  My reply was a silent cower. He knew the answer to that, so what was the point in saying anything?

  ‘You’re a journalist?’ he continued, but Ed corrected him on that score.

  ‘No, no. She’s a sub-editor. Ella, what’s going on here?’

  ‘I…don’t know,’ I said lamely.

  ‘Oh, I bet you do,’ snarled Keane. ‘And I’ll put money on you being in league with Crowley.’

  ‘With Tom Crowley?’ said Ed, pushing his glasses up his nose and giving us both an intent stare. ‘Why do you say that?’

  Keane turned to Ed. ‘The reason I came here today,’ he said, ‘was to tell you about Crowley turning up at a dinner party I went to last night. One of Maria’s little soirées.’

  Ed was visibly shaken. ‘Tom turned up at Maria’s? How would he know about her? About that?’

  ‘Apparently he’s been worming his way into the scene, through those munches at the Plough. I’ve told Maria a hundred times she shouldn’t be involving herself with the riff-raff. It’s too dangerous. Nobody knows where those people are from.’

  ‘How did Tom know to go to them?’ asked Ed, now pale, taking off his glasses and twiddling with them in a compulsive manner. ‘How would he know that? He must have found something out about you.’

  ‘I wonder if Ell…is it Ellie? Or Ella?’

  ‘Ella,’ I said dully.

  ‘So you lied about that much,’ said Keane. ‘As I was saying, I wonder if Ella here can help us with that.’

  Well, I could, but I wasn’t going to.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said.

  ‘Liar!’ exclaimed Keane. ‘You’re in cahoots with him. He turned up last night because you told him the address. Don’t try and pretend otherwise.’

  ‘I didn’t tell him the address,’ I said, which was the truth. ‘That’s not what happened.’

  ‘But you’re working with him, aren’t you?’ said Keane. ‘It can’t be a coincidence.’

  ‘No,’ said Ed. ‘I have heard some office gossip that puts the two of you together.’

  Damn, had he? I’d have thought he’d be above that kind of tittle-tattle. Obviously not.

  ‘Oh, well, isn’t that nice?’ sneered Keane. ‘Don’t try and tell me he didn’t put you up to this.’

  ‘He…didn’t,’ I said, but it was so clear they’d made up their minds about the situation that it seemed pointless to argue. Perhaps I should just tell all and let the axe fall where it would.

  ‘I tell you what,’ said Keane to Ed, ‘we aren’t going to get anything from her here. I suggest an extraordinary meeting at my place.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not sure I can leave the office just now,’ said Ed nervously, but Keane was adamant.

  ‘This is urgent,’ he said, crashing his fist down on the desk and wincing straight afterwards.

  Ed was convinced.

  ‘Well, all right. I can’t be too long though.’

  This sounded like very bad news. The absolute worst place for me to be right now was on Keane’s territory, with no back-up. What on earth were they going to do to me? Torture me? Kill me? Where was Mia? What had happened to Mia?

  ‘Please don’t,’ I breathed. ‘I’m not going.’

  ‘Oh, but you are,’ said Keane grimly.

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘There’s witnesses,’ I blurted. ‘Tons of witnesses. All my friends. They’ll see me leave with you.’

  Ed blinked rapidly.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Come on. It’s just a meeting. Better coffee at Keane’s house, anyway. He has a housekeeper.’

  This wasn’t reassuring, but I had no option but to leave the office, flanked by the two men, while everyone on the floor looked on. At the water cooler, I passed Tilda.

  ‘Call Tom,’ I mouthed at her, hoping neither of my escorts would notice. ‘Please.’

  She looked shell-shocked for a moment, then nodded rapidly.

  We turned into the waiting lift and I left civilisation and safety behind me.

  I hadn’t been able to collect my handbag, so I had no mobile phone, no connection to the world. I didn’t even have my coat to keep me warm on this raw, wet November day.

  Keane had child locks on the car doors or I would have tried to jump out at the lights. He and Ed were in the front, while I had the back seat to myself.

  Nobody spoke for the duration of the tense ten-minute journey. It was raining hard as we stopped outside a large gated house for Keane to press a button on his key fob, opening the driveway.

  ‘You’re looking a little the worse for wear,’ remarked Ed mildly as we got out of the car.

  ‘You should see the other bloke,’ said Keane, then he turned to me. ‘How’s Crowley this morning?’ he asked, unsmiling.

  I shrugged, swallowing my nerves as I passed through a handsome front door into a house that could be beautiful if its owner cared a little more about interior design.

  ‘Ramani,’ he bellowed. ‘Coffee for two.’

  No coffee for me, then?

  He shepherded me into a large square drawing room at the back of the house and sat himself in one of two armchairs either side of an ornamental fireplace. Ed took the other.

  Keane pointed an uncompromising finger at the hearthrug.

  ‘Kneel,’ he commanded.

  Was he serious? I looked imploringly at Ed, but he turned his face towards the mantelpiece with its ornamentation of brown envelopes and handbills.

  I lowered myself on to the rug, which was at least a comfortable shagpile, and waited, my cheeks burning, for the hideousness to come.

  ‘So you had a fist fight with Crowley?’ said Ed in a conversational tone.

  ‘I did. On Maria’s front lawn, if you can picture it.’

  Ed shuddered. ‘Police? Press?’

  ‘No, apart from your own trusty pair. I can’t answer for nosy neighbours taping on their phones, mind.’

  ‘God forbid,’ said Ed.

  ‘Shouldn’t it be in the paper?’ I said, my rebellious spirit roused by their quiet determination that it should be swept under the carpet. ‘Surely it’s headline news if the leader of the city council brawls in a garden with a journalist? At the house of a celebrated Dominatrix?’

&nbs
p; ‘Nobody asked you,’ said Keane. He shoved my thigh with a booted toe. ‘You conniving little bitch. I was going to give you so much. I really liked you.’

  He sounded astonished and a little pained.

  You stupid git, I thought.

  ‘You and Ella?’ said Ed. ‘You were going to…?’

  ‘Maria introduced us at the dinner party. I’d told her I was looking for a new sub.’

  With a rattle of china, the housekeeper appeared, bearing a tray. I wanted to scramble to my feet, but Keane kept his foot on the top of my thigh, holding me down. Presumably Ramani the housekeeper saw this kind of thing all the time. I was well and truly down the rabbit hole now.

  ‘You’ve met Haydon, the editor of the Clarion, haven’t you, Ramani?’

  The housekeeper assented calmly, handing cups and saucers out.

  ‘This little bitch is of no account,’ said Keane. ‘So I won’t bother to introduce her. She’s got one almighty heck of a punishment coming, though, so perhaps you could get me a few of my favourite things from the locker.’

  I started so violently Keane’s foot was dislodged, and he spilled some tea. What the hell was that supposed to mean? A punishment?

  ‘And I’ll have the leather cuffs too,’ he added. ‘Both sets.’

  ‘You can’t,’ I said, starting to get up, but Keane was upon me before I’d straightened my legs. He took my shoulders and forced me back down, then held my arms behind my back so tightly at the wrists that I cried out.

  ‘Steady on, Judd,’ cautioned Ed but he merely grunted in reply.

  ‘She’ll get what she’s earned,’ he said. ‘And then some.’

  ‘You’ve got it all wrong,’ I moaned. ‘You don’t have anything to fear from me or Tom. He’s leaving town and I’m just…ouch!…just looking for someone. Not you. Nothing to do with you.’

  ‘Bullshit,’ muttered Keane, his hot breath in my ear. ‘You wouldn’t know the truth if it whipped your arse raw. Which I might just do for you.’

  I heard, rather than saw, the return of Ramani. She put some stuff down with a clatter on a table behind me, then stood over me, handing Keane something that clinked.

  ‘Hang on to her arms while I fix these, will you?’ he said.

  For a small woman, her pinching grip was surprisingly tight. Keane had my wrists cuffed in short order, then he did the same to my ankles.