Supposing for some reason this appealing scenario didn’t happen today, then money was a big issue. I hated the prospect of stealing from anyone else’s home – my last attempt, though successful, had been frightening and embarrassing in spades – and I couldn’t accept more of Jarek’s hospitality without feeling indebted. I smiled at the idea he might adopt me like the cat, and take me back to Poland when he went home. Were there any casual jobs I could do that would pay me cash in hand? Cleaning, working in a pub, baby sitting … did Jenny need a babysitter for Freddie, and if so how awkward would it be to offer to do it at a price? Pretty awkward, probably, but imagine if she actually hadn’t got a babysitter and took me on; I could charge five pounds an hour and maybe she’d recommend me to other mothers she knew and I’d make enough to live on. I could buy a lock for the door – Jarek had said if I got one he’d fit it for me, then nobody could steal my things. Working in someone’s home, I’d be off the street, and less likely to be caught.
I sat up, excited. I could tell Jenny I’d lost my job, so needed the money and was able to babysit any time convenient to her. And if I called round there today – I could leave the Barbican till later – she’d tell me if she’d managed to deliver my note to Rob. I wouldn’t ask her, but she’d be bound to volunteer the information. The babysitting might not be necessary.
I stretched an arm to my food drawer and got out breakfast, feeling almost happy.
Jenny didn’t seem thrilled to see me when I turned up once more on her snowy doorstep. Mark you, she had the air of somebody who wouldn’t be thrilled to see the man from National Savings & Investments, come to tell her she’d won a million pounds on her Premium Bonds. She was too worn down by motherhood. I could hear Freddie bawling upstairs. She didn’t ask me in at first, and I’d been eagerly anticipating a hot cup of coffee all the way there, and wondering if she’d have got any biscuits in since my last visit. Walking everywhere warms you up, but makes you hungry, even if you had a good meal the night before.
“Will took your letter round to Rob Monday evening.”
“Oh, thank you. Actually, it wasn’t that I came to see you about.”
She sighed. “You’d better come in. The place is a mess.”
I followed her up the stairs. She was right, the place was a mess. I had to squeeze past packs of disposable nappies in the hall; the kitchen had dirty dishes stacked all round the sink, and the washing machine and the tumble dryer were both going. In the living room a clutter of toys, clothes waiting to be ironed and baby-handling equipment littered the floor.
“Will doesn’t understand why he comes home to a muddle every night.” She had to raise her voice to be heard above the yells. “He thinks I’ve had all day doing nothing, he’s got no idea what it’s like with a baby.” She went into the bedroom and reappeared holding Freddie, who quietened somewhat in her arms.
“He’s not hungry, I’ve changed him, he’s had a nap, and I don’t know what to do,” she said on a rising inflection. “Sorry. Would you like a coffee?”
“Yes please. Shall I make it, or I could hold Freddie?”
Jenny handed the baby over with alacrity and vanished into the kitchen. Freddie stared suspiciously at me as I sat down with him on the sofa. He smelled of fabric softener and baby shampoo. I know nothing about babies, and it occurred to me this might be a disadvantage to my babysitting plan. His little face began to pucker.
“Freddie, you don’t want to cry, not when I’m about to tell you the most interesting thing you have ever heard in your entire life.” I smiled encouragingly at him. He didn’t smile back. Help. “I’ll tell you about my cat.” Nothing. “Be like that, then.” I stuck out my tongue and crossed my eyes. Freddie stared, then stuck out his tongue. I was so surprised I laughed. “Who’s a clever boy?” I got a sudden insight into why he was making a fuss. Freddie was bored. It must be really boring, being a baby and not able to do what you want. He couldn’t even read a book, poor thing. I sat him more upright on my knee so he could look around, and jigged him up and down.
“My cat is called Inky Pink. You try to say it. Inky … Pink. Easy.” I’d definitely got his attention. “And Inky Pink likes to be tickled under his ear, like this.” I tickled under Freddie’s ear, and he gurgled. This wasn’t so bad. “And he likes his tummy tickled, like this.” I tickled his tummy, very gently. I hadn’t liked being tickled as a child. Rob sometimes tickled me in bed and wouldn’t stop, though he knew I hated it and it made me tense up. Well, he wouldn’t be doing that again. “And I stroke his head, like this. Anyway, the interesting thing I was going to tell you: once upon a time, there was a mouse. A girl mouse, with nice grey fur and a long tail. She lived in her own little mouse hole, and went out to forage for food every morning, and came back to her snug home each night. She was very happy, until one day a wizard cast a spell by mistake, and suddenly there were two of her, both exactly the same! And this was a bad thing, because there was only one mouse hole, and it wasn’t big enough for two. So the new mouse had to go and seek her fortune, and a big black cat decided to eat her up, if he could catch her. And there isn’t an end to the story yet, but luckily you’re too little to realize that.”
Freddie gazed at me, then reached out for my hair. Before he lost interest, and it occurred to him to cry – which did rather seem his default setting – I picked him up and wandered round the room showing him things. “Here’s the mirror. Who’s that handsome child you can see? Is it Freddie? Yes! Let’s wave to Freddie-in-the-mirror.” I held his hand and waved it. “He’s waving too. Now the window. Look at all those cars parked out there. That one’s a BMW Z4, you can have your own if you like when you’re a bit bigger and have made lots of money, and that’s a Mini, and the blue one is … I’m not sure, but it’s nice and shiny and new.”
Jenny came in carrying two mugs. “He seems to have taken to you,” she said, putting them on the coffee table. “I’ll get some biscuits.”
I sat on the sofa again, at the far end. I was afraid my clothes were a bit niffy, and didn’t want Jenny to notice. The baby didn’t seem to mind. “Now, Freddie, if I prop you up beside me, you can sit all on your own like a grown up and I can drink my coffee without spilling it over you, which you wouldn’t like.” I passed him a handy teddy. “Teddy can sit there too.”
Freddie decided this was okay, on the whole. He put the teddy’s ear in his mouth and sucked it reflectively. He was really rather sweet. Jenny appeared with the biscuits – a new packet of Walkers shortbread – and I took one, trying not to look too eager, wondering how many I could get away with eating.
“I don’t suppose …” Jenny stopped and sipped her coffee. “I’m just asking on the off chance, I don’t suppose you’d want to, but if you ever had a few spare hours – I’d pay you of course – I could really do with someone to look after Freddie now and then. You’re very good with him.”
“Actually, I’ve been made redundant, so until I get a job that would be great. I could start today.”
“Now?” Jenny said quickly. I got the definite feeling we were both trying not to let our enthusiasm for this idea show too much.
“I have to go to the Barbican … to pick up some tickets, but I could take Freddie with me, if you like, then come back here.” It was well after nine already, but I wanted to check just in case the note was there. The other Beth had to go to the Institute, but she might have rung and said the car wouldn’t start, and she’d be late, if she’d got my letter. It was surprisingly difficult imagining what I’d do in that situation.
Jenny said it would be nice for Freddie to get some fresh air, and she could tidy the flat while we were gone, then maybe when we got back she could go out shopping. With some embarrassment, she suggested six pounds an hour, paid daily, which I agreed to. I hoped Beth would get my letter today, and leave one for me as I’d asked her to; but meanwhile, it was marvellous having something to do and the prospect of earning money.
Replica ~ Lexi Revellian
CHAP
TER 23
Better than you think …
Tuesday morning Nick woke as Beth crept carefully from the bed, trying not to disturb him. His hand shot out, pulling her back, and her wrist reminded him disturbingly of replica Beth’s. The way she looked at him was quite different, though; friendly, trusting, with a hint of respect, admiration, even, that made him feel good. Had his ex-wife ever looked at him like that? Nick couldn’t remember.
“Come back.”
“I can’t, I have to get to work.”
She bent to kiss his cheek, and he pulled her on to the bed and kissed her properly before letting her go, enough to be certain she wanted to stay, and would have had she not been a worrier about punctuality. The bathroom door closed, and Nick stretched out luxuriously, his mind running on their night together. He’d picked up the idea Rob hadn’t been much cop in bed, though Beth hadn’t said anything on the subject. It was the way she’d seemed kind of surprised, and pleased; and he knew it had been as good for her as it had for him. Nick generally managed to give satisfaction. Even Sandra had had sex with him a few times since they’d split – at her prompting, not his – and she couldn’t stand him.
Once Beth was in the shower, Nick got out of bed, pulled his boxers on, and picked up Beth’s handbag, methodically sifting its contents without disturbing them, keeping an ear cocked for the bathroom door opening. Amazing the amount of stuff women kept in their handbags. He flipped through her diary, pausing at any pages she’d written in. The cat jumped on the bed, settled, and stared at him censoriously. Last night, Nick had got Beth to exclude him from the bedroom, and the cat had made his displeasure plain by scratching outside the door, then clanking out through the cat flap.
Nick didn’t find anything useful they didn’t already know about. He put Beth’s diary away and the handbag back exactly where he’d found it on the floor by the bed, and checked his phone. There was a text from Ollie, sent at two o’clock the night before.
God that was COLD. I’m out of here, as soon as I’ve located my frozen balls in the footwell. Expect you’re having a better night. Cya tomorrow, Casanova.
The doorbell rang. He took Beth’s keys from the kitchen counter, went downstairs and opened the front door. Rob stood on the step, stamping snow off his shoes.
“Yes?”
Rob’s gaze flicked over Nick. “What are you doing here?”
“What does it look like?” Rob appeared stunned into silence. “Can you tell me what you want, I’m getting cold.”
“Is Beth in?”
“She’s in the shower. I’ll tell her you called.” Nick made to shut the door, but Rob stuck his foot in the way. “D’you mind moving your foot?”
“I want to see Beth. Now. I’m coming in.”
“Oh no you’re not. Bugger off.”
“Who the hell do you think you are? You can’t talk to me like that.”
Nick opened the door to its fullest extent once more and loomed on the threshold. “Oh, I think you’ll find I can. And if you don’t get off that doorstep in the next three seconds, I’m going to throw you off.”
Rob assessed Nick’s solid build and retreated down the snowy steps. He walked fast along the pavement, indignation and resentment somehow manifest in his back view; his foot slipped, he lurched and righted himself and proceeded more cautiously. A couple of paces further on he took something from his pocket, which he screwed up and tossed to his left. It landed in the shrubbery above a basement area. Quickly scanning the vicinity, Nick noticed a skulking figure the other side of the road near the corner lighting a cigarette, behind the white van that held Smithy and Dave. Dario smirked at him before trailing Rob off to his day at Tollington High. Within five minutes, the whole team bar Sir Pete would know Nick had spent the night in Beth’s bed. Bollocks.
Immediately Dario had disappeared, Nick darted down the steps, the trodden snow icy on his bare feet, and along to the house where Rob had discarded something. God, it’s freezing. He wished he’d put some clothes on before answering the door, and hoped no one was looking out of their windows at the madman clad only in boxers in the snow. He reached through the railings, grasped the crumpled ball and ran back to Beth’s. Once inside the flat, he listened; he could still hear the hiss and splash of the shower. He smoothed out the paper packet. BETH was hand written in capitals on the outside.
Nick got the knife from his jacket and slit the sellotape round the edges of the letter.
The little office had a more welcoming air as Beth arrived at five minutes to nine, ready for her second day in Thames House. She turned on the new computer, feeling cheerful. She decided to pop out in her lunch break and look for a plant; something flourishing and big, and buy herself a sandwich to eat at her desk.
Nick would probably ring when he could, or he might even drop in later on. Beth blushed and smiled at the thought; she couldn’t stop thinking of him; she knew she ought to feel bad about Rob, and in a way she did, but he kept getting shoved out of her thoughts by Nick. Rob, and the three years they’d spent together, seemed now to belong to the past; the sort of interlude in your life you dismissed in conversation as a mistake: Yes, three years, don’t know why I stuck it so long, really. She couldn’t believe she’d seriously thought, hoped even, they might marry and have children; had weighed it up and come to the conclusion she’d be unlikely to meet another man as nice who was interested in her. How could she know, when he was the only boyfriend she’d had? Making love with Rob hadn’t ever been marvellous, and she’d never been very keen; she had supposed she must have a low libido, or something. Rob’s tacit assumption that this was the case had made her feel inadequate. Now she had Nick to compare him with, she realized the problem had not lain with her. Rob, though enthusiastic enough (she’d often wished him less so) was inconsiderate, unimaginative, and hasty; in short, No Good In Bed, and she couldn’t think why this hadn’t occurred to her before.
Nick had not made her feel inadequate; quite the reverse; he made her feel sensuous, special. Last night had been something of a revelation. To her surprise, she had found him irresistible; her desire had matched his; she suddenly saw what all the fuss was about. She loved the slightly ruthless, wicked look in his eyes, his devil-may-care attitude, his casual masculinity. He had a terrific body, too. Glowing, Beth reached for a file and stared at it without seeing.
She would have to talk to Rob, tell him it was over. Nick had mentioned he’d called round this morning, so he must be wondering what was going on – no, he must have gathered what had happened, or he’d have rung. She knew this should worry her, and indeed it did, when she thought about their shared past, the times they’d laughed together, his kindness. She felt she had let him down, humiliated him in front of Nick. But feeling guilty did not alter her change of heart. She wasn’t fool enough to think that Nick was now her boyfriend after only one night, much as she hoped that might become the case. For one thing, he was so attractive, he must have girls queuing up. And she hardly knew him – this morning he’d got a call and had to rush off before her, so they’d said very little; but she was entirely certain she was no longer Rob’s girlfriend.
Directly he’d read the letter, Nick had flung on his clothes, made his excuses to Beth as she emerged pink and desirable from the shower, and sprinted towards the main road where he hailed a cab. On the way he stopped to buy a copy of the Telegraph, not to read but to hide behind. He reached the Silk Street entrance of the Barbican at eight twelve, and headed warily for the first floor. If the target was there, he wanted to see her before she saw him, and the huge open space with exits and staircases all over the place might have been designed for evasion and escape. Nick frowned. There’d be no chance of nabbing her here with members of the public wandering around, and bored security guards just waiting for something to do. He’d have to trail her to the street, call Ollie, pounce the minute she got to somewhere isolated and bundle her into the van.
He reached the first floor Ladies. Whether by chance, or because as
he’d suggested to Pete she actually was quite good at this, her choice of venue was brilliant. From her point of view, that was, not his. The Ladies, Disabled and Gents were situated in a row along a wall on one side of a narrow mezzanine, with access from either end; big leather benches in alcoves opposite overlooked the ground floor. Sit there and no one going in or out could fail to see you. You couldn’t watch the door from further off, because blocks of brutalist sixties concrete got in the way. The music section of the library, across empty space on the far side, was ideal for discreet surveillance; you could hang about behind the shelves for hours inconspicuously. Unfortunately, the library was open from nine thirty till seven thirty on a Tuesday, less other days, thus neatly missing the times Beth Two had said she’d be there. His estimation of her went up.
Nick swore under his breath. He couldn’t do it; it would have to be someone the target didn’t know. He could ring Ollie and get him over; but on his own watching the door, he wouldn’t be able to see her approach. To avoid cock-ups with a wary mark in a public place, it needed three men, maybe five. If Oll missed her, or she saw him, Pete would be justly furious with both of them. Fuck. He’d have to tell him instead of catching her alone as he’d intended, and though it was his lead, others would get the kudos.
He got out his phone. The dry voice answered immediately. “Peter Ellis.”
“Rob was delivering a letter Beth Two wrote to Beth. I picked it up. She’s expecting a message to be left for her at the Barbican, in the first floor Ladies. She’s going to check around eight o’clock morning and evening. It needs three people inside, and one or two vehicles.”
“I’ll send them now. Stay till they arrive, then make yourself scarce.” Pete disconnected. Nick knew that was not the last of it; as soon as he had made the arrangements, he’d ring back. Sure enough, ten minutes later the phone vibrated.
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