by Anita Notaro
John Reynolds arrived bang on time.
‘Did you sleep?’ he asked.
‘Yes. I can understand why people get hooked on alcohol. It makes you forget.’
‘Yes well, it’s not a sedative I would recommend.’
‘Yes sir.’ She was smiling in spite of her nerves.
‘How’s the head?’
‘Someone shoved a Black and Decker drill between my temples in the middle of the night.’
He handed her a packet. ‘These might help.’
‘You’re an angel. I was just about to ask if we could stop off on the way.’
Minutes later they were in the car. ‘God, the neighbours will be apoplectic. Last night a stretch limo left me home. This morning I’m taken away in a squad car.’
‘I should have handcuffed you, just for effect.’
They drove the short journey in silence, with Annie getting more and more agitated.
‘I’m really not sure I can do this.’
‘It’ll be all over in a few seconds.’
‘You’re positive he won’t be able to see me?’
‘Certain. All you need to do is call out his number. That should mean the end of him for a long time.’
‘What do you know about him?’
‘He’s married with two small kids.’ Annie sucked in her breath at the news. Somehow that made it worse.
‘What about his wife?’
‘It seems there’s been a history of violence, although she has never made a formal complaint.’
‘Where do they live?’
He mentioned a village on the outskirts of Dublin, a quiet area where everybody knew everybody else. Annie thought about how some poor woman with two babies must be feeling this morning. She wasn’t quite sure if that strengthened or weakened her resolve.
She felt that everyone in the station was looking at her as she was led down a grimy, institutional corridor and into a small room. There were two other uniformed officers waiting, a man and a woman. The introductions were monosyllabic.
‘Are you ready?’
Annie nodded. ‘Just explain to me once more what will happen.’ Anything to avoid coming face to face with him.
‘I’ll just pull up that blind–’ John Reynolds pointed to a large square window – ‘and all you have to do is tell us which one you think it is. They’ll be holding cards numbered one to six.’ He smiled reassuringly at her, then nodded to the woman, who slowly raised the grubby blind by pulling on a tatty cord.
Annie saw him immediately. His eyes were red rimmed, he had more stubble, but there was no doubt in her mind. The only thing that surprised her was that she didn’t tell them straight away. Instead, she kept her eyes glued to his face, remembered again the shiny, scratchy cheap suit and the gloating eyes of someone relishing his power. But what got to her most of all was the smell of him that assailed her nostrils, even though she knew it was all in her head, because the room they were in was soundproofed, she’d been told earlier. But no amount of padding could keep out the stench, the sweat, the sickly sweet aftershave, the stale smoke that clung to him and had clawed its way beneath her skin and above all the sour, whiskey-laced, putrid breath.
‘If he’s not there, or if you’re unsure, just say.’ John Reynolds was watching her watching him.
‘It’s number two.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Certain. Can I go now?’
‘Yes of course.’ He nodded at his colleagues. ‘I’ll take you home.’
She wanted out of there as quickly as possible and didn’t speak until the car had pulled away.
‘Was he the one you arrested?’
‘Yes.’ She was relieved, even though there was no doubt in her mind.
‘Will he go to prison?’
‘Yes.’
‘For how long?’
‘For a very long time. For all his bragging, he wasn’t so clever in the end. He gave a lot of detail to the guy in the pub. We’ve got loads on him. We’re working on a couple of leads for other stuff as well. By the time we’re finished with him he’ll have confessed to a whole lot more, I’d say.’
She had a frightening thought. ‘I won’t have to go to court, will I?’
‘Shouldn’t think so. Forget about him, Annie. Start getting on with your life.’ Easier said than done, he knew, but he smiled at her warmly and she was once more glad of his kindness.
‘It was hard in there, I hadn’t expected to feel so . . . raw. I could smell him, you know.’
‘He won’t harm you again. By the time we’re through with him he won’t be hurting any other woman either.’
‘What about his wife and kids?’
‘I haven’t been across that end so I don’t know much.’
In a way it suited Annie not to have to think about them. She was silent for most of the journey.
‘Would you like to come in for some tea?’ she asked quietly.
‘I’d better be getting back to the station. There’s a lot on. I’ll check in with you later. Are you sure you’re OK?’
‘I’m fine, thanks.’ But she wasn’t really.
Chapter Fifty-One
‘HELLO.’
‘Hi, it’s me.’
‘Annie, hi. Everything all right?’ Libby didn’t like the sound of the voice.
‘Yeah. I was just wondering if you’re free for lunch?’
‘Come round. I’m making pizza.’ Libby was trying to keep busy.
Annie hopped into a taxi immediately, wanting company.
Libby knew there was something wrong but sensed her friend wasn’t quite ready to spill it out.
‘Can I help?’ Annie asked as they entered the kitchen.
Libby was about to refuse automatically, as other people’s sloppy, inept ways of working irritated her. Something about her friend changed her mind. ‘Yes, actually. Pizza and salad OK for lunch?’
‘That’d be brilliant. But why didn’t you just order in?’
Libby could feel her nose creasing. ‘Ugh, I can’t think of anything worse. All that thick, dry, doughy base and gloopy tomato sauce.’
‘But that’s what makes them so tasty.’ Annie was amazed. ‘When’s the last time you had one?’
‘I’ve never had one and please God I never will. Just the look of them is enough.’
Annie was giggling again.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘That look on your face.’
‘What look?’
‘Like you’ve just stepped on a particularly runny dog pooh.’
Libby burst out laughing. Annie was the only one who ever slagged her and she liked it. It was all so easy with her. Somehow, the easiness bit reminded her of Andrew and she pushed the uncomfortable thought firmly away.
‘Right, give me instructions.’ Annie wiped her eyes and sipped the wine spritzer Libby handed her.
‘Well, I’ve just softened the onions and garlic for the sauce. You could add a couple of tins of tomatoes, some dried oregano, then season it and oh, add a pinch of sugar. Then you could pick some fresh herbs from just outside the door and tear them up and we’ll add them at the last minute.’
Annie was trying to remember it all. She was just about to throw in a heap of salt and pepper when Libby slapped her hand.
‘Always taste before you season.’
‘Yes, your majesty.’ Annie was giggling again and it was infectious. ‘What herbs will I pick?’
‘Any of the soft ones, parsley, basil, chives, maybe a bit of sage.’ Libby was rolling out the bases she’d made earlier. She always made a pile and stuck them in her freezer.
‘How will I know what’s what? There are millions of them.’
‘Smell them, taste them.’ She watched her friend. ‘Just make sure you don’t eat the poisonous ones.’ Now it was Libby’s turn to take the piss and she fell about laughing as Annie spat out a mound of green slime.
They chatted as they each designed their own lunch, Libby having first spooned the a
romatic tomato sauce onto the wafer-thin bases, and added pepperoni and chilli and a few black olives to hers, before smothering it in marshmallow-like, buffalo mozzarella.
‘What are you having?’
‘Everything.’ Annie was like a child, heaping smoked ham and pineapple and peppers and even slivers of fish on the rapidly growing mound.
‘Stop. You’ll ruin it.’ Libby could have kicked herself as Annie’s face fell. ‘Sorry, I’m always doing that. Pizzas are completely individual, so keep going.’
‘Actually, I think I was getting carried away. Everything looks so good.’ Annie was mortified.
‘No please, have anything you like. I am far too precious.
‘And I’m a muck savage,’ Annie grinned and relaxed for the first time since that phone call last night.
* * *
After a bit more effort they tucked into the most delicious pizzas with a flavour unlike anything Annie had tasted before. ‘My God, this is heaven,’ she said and twisted the stainless steel pepper mill to within an inch of its life. Libby resisted the urge to grab it. Annie felt sophisticated.
‘Do you not cook really or have you just been having me on all this time?’
‘I never cook, you know that. I open tins and fry the occasional chop but it’s mostly ready-prepared food, chicken Kiev, beans, chips, that sort of thing.’
Libby couldn’t believe her ears, but she’d learned many lessons from Annie, so she adopted what she hoped was a casual tone.
‘But don’t you have to eat masses of fresh food – vegetables, salads, fish and the like – since your illness?’
‘I tried in the early days. But I lived with my father at first and he’s a very limited cook, and then later I could never afford all that stuff.’
‘That’s rubbish.’ Libby couldn’t help herself, she was on her hobby-horse. ‘Processed foods are much more expensive. Some of those ready meals are a rip-off and you can never be sure what you’re eating. Masses of sugar and salt, too.’
‘But they taste great.’ There was no arguing, but Libby tried.
‘That’s all those additives. Doesn’t this taste good?’
‘This tastes better than practically anything I’ve ever eaten in my whole life.’ Annie was grinning as she tucked in.
‘That’s it. I’m definitely taking you in hand. A few simple lessons and you’ll be off.’
Later, as they sat in the garden sipping wine, Annie told Libby her news. Libby was shocked but relieved.
‘Oh Annie, I am so glad he’s behind bars. I knew there was something when I heard you earlier. How did you feel, seeing him again?’ Libby put down her glass, turned to her friend and saw that the tears were streaming down her face. She knelt down on the grass beside her and held her hand and rubbed her hair and let her cry it all away.
Much later Annie asked about Andrew. She felt better now and she wasn’t going to let Libby do nothing about him. ‘Why don’t you get in touch with him? Start again.’
‘I’m not sure I want to.’ Libby knew it was a lie and Annie would have bet her life on it.
‘I think you do.’ It was gently delivered.
‘I was so stupid to panic and say all that stuff.’
‘That’s understandable. You’re not an ordinary person. You’re a star.’
‘As soon as we’d had sex and he stayed the night, I started to imagine all sorts of scenarios . . . him selling his story. Pictures of us together.’
‘Did you suck his toes or anything?’ It was lost on Libby so she tried a different approach.
‘Was it good?’
‘What?’
‘The sex.’ They’d talked about it all before, but not the sex.
‘It was fabulous.’
‘The best ever?’
Libby had to think about that, she was defensive and it surprised her. ‘It was different. David and I had a great sex life . . .’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.’
‘It’s fine.’ She stopped trying to justify it. ‘David was . . . confident and assured. Andrew was tender – and passionate. It felt very intimate.’ She smiled. ‘And my God, he is one hell of a gorgeous-looking man, as you know.’
‘What do you find attractive about him?’ Annie was deliberately trying to encourage her.
‘He’s different from anyone else I’ve known. David was very suave and sophisticated. Handsome. You know that, you’ve met him.’ She smiled at Annie and they both remembered.
‘I always thought he was gorgeous. I think I even had a bit of a crush on him.’
Libby nodded. She was used to women fancying her husband. ‘He was lovely. Andrew is different, he’s more the rugged, outdoor type. He smells of soap rather than expensive aftershave.’ Libby smiled. ‘And I love the fact that his hair is longer and he doesn’t look like anyone else and certainly not any doctor I’ve met. He’s quietly confident. And I miss his voice, all soft and liquidy and gravelly. We seemed to fit so well together.’ She sighed. ‘There’s something about him, something I can’t quite put my finger on . . .’
‘I’d say you’ve got it bad.’ Annie grinned at her friend across the shadows.
‘I miss him, that’s the funny thing. Even though I hardly knew him, really. But we talked a lot. In a way I shared more little, stupid things with him, things David and I didn’t have time for, I suppose. We were always out, socializing. Andrew’s not really interested in all that. He really looks at you and listens when you talk and he considers his responses, doesn’t come out with the glib remarks that most of my acquaintances find funny.’
‘I think you need to go see him.’
Libby was silent for a long time. ‘I think you’re right.’
Chapter Fifty-Two
THE WEEK WAS not going well for Libby. The new series was on air and the ratings were poor. A leading and well-respected newspaper had savaged it, calling it pretentious and patronizing. One of the tabloids went further, describing it as ‘up its own bum’. Everyone was running for cover. Carrie was the only one of her old friends who telephoned when she’d seen it. She hadn’t heard a word from Moya.
As if that wasn’t enough, the house had been sold, much more quickly than anyone thought it would. That meant Libby had to find a new home. She’d looked at several but after her mansion, they were all depressingly small and so dark. The gardens were tiny, some had no off-street parking – and all this when Libby was still spending a small fortune compared to the average Joe Soap. The problem was that all her money was going on location, and nice neighbourhoods and panoramic views didn’t come cheap. She had another appointment the next day and she’d sounded so depressed when Annie spoke to her that she had offered to go along with her to the next couple of houses, ‘just to get a real perspective on things’.
‘When are you going to talk to Andrew, by the way?’
‘I don’t even know what shifts he works.’
‘I think you should just go there.’
‘But how will I know where to find him?’
‘Ask at the main reception.’
‘What if he’s not there?’
‘Well then, they’ll just tell you when he’s on again. Hell, the porter on duty might be so taken with you that he’ll give you his home number.’
‘I feel sick just talking about it.’
‘OK, give me the number.’ Annie had had enough. ‘I’ll ring and find out what shift he’s on this week.’
‘You can’t.’
‘I can. Give me the number.’
‘What if they put you through to him? What if he answers the phone himself?’
‘I think I can cope.’
‘He’ll know it’s me.’
‘How can he? It’s not you. I don’t sound anything like you. I’ll ask him to come and tidy my garden. That should take him all of ten minutes.’
Libby read out the number Mrs O’C. had given her only after Annie threatened to go and see him herself.
‘I’ll call you back in
five minutes.’
‘Please don’t do anything stupid.’
‘Moi? I’m an actress, darling. If I can’t carry this off I’ll eat my Lycra mini.’
‘Call me immediately.’
‘OK, bye.’
Libby felt sick as she waited. She leapt on the phone on the first ring. It was her mother. ‘Can I call you right back?’
‘That’s what you always say, Elizabeth and then you don’t.’
Libby closed her eyes in frustration and grovelled.
The second time it rang she was almost hysterical.
‘Annie?’
‘He’s on tomorrow at ten or Friday after three.’
‘What did they say?’
‘Nothing much. The receptionist just checked. I said I wanted to make an appointment for my friend.’
‘You don’t even know if you can make an appointment. We don’t even know what he does.’
‘I asked. She said he specializes in broken hearts.’
‘Very funny. How will I recognize him in good clothes? All those white coats. Or is it green?’
‘He’s a doctor, not a porter. You’ve been watching too much ER.’
‘Well, I can’t imagine him in a suit.’
‘Don’t be so patronizing. And ignore your imagination, it’s what got you into this mess in the first place.’ As she said it, Annie marvelled at how far they’d come in such a short time. A couple of months ago she’d have been afraid to say hello to the great Libby Marlowe: now she was telling her off.
‘I can’t do this.’
‘It’s your only chance.’
‘I’ll ring him.’
‘Won’t work. This is not a conversation for the telephone. It’ll all go pear-shaped. Your only chance is to be eyeball to eyeball with him. You need to be very convincing and he needs to see you to know that. So go find a mirror and practise.’
Libby laughed in spite of her churning stomach.
‘Personally, I’d give him ten minutes and I’d say he’ll be putty in your pizza-making hands,’ Annie insisted.
