It Was You Read online

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t rush to the doctor,’ he said. ‘You seem pretty much the same as ever to me.’

  It sounded like a joke. But it didn’t feel like one.

  ‘Ah, you know me so well,’ I said, hardening a little. ‘Anyway, you enjoy the rest of your evening.’

  He didn’t speak. Instead, he simply smiled and then nodded a farewell; clearly keen, I thought, not to prompt any further stumbling monologues. I turned to David and put a hand on his arm. ‘Let’s go,’ I said, and we began our search for Eleanor.

  We made our way back to the rear of the house and spent two or three minutes looking for her, before deciding she must be elsewhere. Following fruitless forays into the den, the study, the utility room and a return to the front reception room, I was beginning to favour a text-and-run approach to the situation.

  ‘She could be anywhere, David,’ I said wearily. We were now standing in the main hallway and I pointed upstairs. ‘She might be in the bathroom, or giving someone a tour.’

  He nodded. ‘I know, but I really don’t like to leave without telling her I’m going. You don’t have to stay, though.’ He took out his phone. ‘I’ll call you a cab.’

  ‘Put that away,’ I said, placing my hand over his phone. ‘Of course, I’ll stay. Unless there’s some reason you’d prefer me not to, that is.’

  He looked at the ceiling and blinked rapidly. ‘It’s just that… I’ve been thinking…’ he began uncertainly, before gathering pace, ‘and I believe I need to tell Eleanor, immediately, that I do not want anything beyond a professional relationship with her.’ He looked at me. ‘I need to be clear with her. And it cannot wait.’

  I stared at him. ‘You mean you’re going to dump her?’

  ‘I’m not really comfortable with that expression,’ he said. ‘But, yes, I am going to let her go.’ He paused and swallowed. ‘Whether she wants me to let her go or not.’

  I bit my lip. ‘But does it have to be right now? Do you think that’s wise? I’m not great at this kind of thing but instinct is telling me—’

  ‘Hello, you two!’ I turned to see Louise Battersby, waving at us, as she heading down the hallway towards us. ‘There’s a queue a mile long for the loo back there, so I’m going to make a sneaky run upstairs. Don’t tell on me, will you?’

  ‘Louise,’ said David, ‘I don’t suppose you know where Eleanor is, do you?’

  She paused mid-flight and considered the matter. ‘Well, she said earlier that she had to check on the caterers downstairs. Try down there,’ she said, recommencing her climb.

  I turned to David with the intention of continuing our conversation regarding the wisdom of dumping Eleanor, a possibly very influential client, at a crowded party – her crowded party. But he was already halfway down the stairs to the lower ground floor. I hurried after him.

  ‘David, for goodness sake—’

  He looked up at me and put a finger to his lips. He had reached the bottom of the stairs and was standing outside the half-open door to the basement, which was actually guest accommodation, comprising living room, bedroom, shower room and kitchen. The caterers were using the latter as their base, in order to keep the main kitchen free from clutter.

  David beckoned to me with his left hand, whilst keeping his right index finger firmly pressed against his lips. I crept down the final few stairs and stood next to him, crouching slightly so that his chin touched the top of my head, our ears turned towards the gap in the doorway.

  ‘I tell people I’m thirty-six and they just can’t believe it.’ We could hear Eleanor quite clearly, despite the fact that she was using her breathy, rather than her more usual Kalashnikov, tone. ‘They all say, “Oh, surely you’re not, Eleanor.”’

  ‘They say that because she’s not,’ whispered David. ‘She’s forty-one. I saw her driving licence.’

  I placed my hand across my mouth to stifle a snigger.

  ‘They say that because I look after myself, you see,’ Eleanor continued. ‘This body doesn’t come easy or cheap, you know.’ I raised my eyebrows but resisted the obvious joke out of respect for David’s current relationship with the woman.

  There followed a slight pause, during which someone cleared their throat. ‘Ah, yes, I am seeing that, Mees Black,’ said a male, heavily-accented voice.

  ‘I know you are…’ Eleanor’s voice dropped but remained audible. ‘I’ve seen you seeing. You’ve been seeing all evening, haven’t you, Damian?’

  ‘Damario, Mees Black. My name is Damario.’ Damario laughed nervously.

  ‘What’s in a name?’ breathed Eleanor.

  More nervous male laughter.

  ‘Anyway, Damian…’

  ‘Damario.’

  ‘Damianario—’

  ‘Eet ees Damario.’ He began to enunciate slowly. ‘Da…mar…i…’

  ‘Oh who cares what your bloody name is!’ Eleanor snapped, before quickly following up the explosion with the most unconvincing attempt at a girlish giggle I had ever heard. ‘Of course, I care,’ she said hurriedly. ‘That was just my little joke, Daman… Damar…’

  ‘Da-mar-i-o.’

  ‘Yes, yes, that’s right,’ she said quickly. ‘Now, as I was saying, I know you’ve been looking. So…’ At this point there was a longish pause. ‘…how about I show you some more?’

  I looked at David, my eyes widening. He maintained a blank expression but returned his finger to his lips.

  ‘Eet ees OK, Mees Black.’ I detected unmistakeable panic in the voice. ‘I seen enough. You are very kindly and attracteev, but I seen enough. Please to you, stop now.’

  And, at that point, without warning, David pushed the door wide open. Exposing our presence, and revealing to us an exposed Ms Black.

  She was standing with her back to us, her dress unzipped to the waist and pulled from her shoulders. And she was braless; that, absolutely enormous, undergarment lying at her feet on the floor, like a discarded parachute.

  I stood up from my crouching position and raised a hand. ‘Hello, there,’ I said.

  She looked over her shoulder towards us, whilst placing her arms across her chest. Her eyes bulged, as her lids opened to their full extent. Her mouth hung ajar.

  ‘We thought you might need assistance,’ said David calmly.

  ‘I has not touched her! She ees touching me and I ees not liking eet!’ The terrified young caterer wedged between Eleanor Black and the wall began to gabble frantically. ‘I try to explain to her but she ees not stopping. I say to stop but she ees not!’ He appeared close to tears.

  ‘I was actually talking to you, Damario,’ said David. ‘We thought you might need help.’

  The young man slid sideways along the wall to emerge from behind Eleanor. His shoulders sagged and he hung his head in relief. ‘Thank you, thank you,’ he said.

  David walked over to him, extracting a business card from his wallet en route. He handed it to Damario. ‘My name is David Moore. This is my card. If you experience any problems,’ he looked at Eleanor, ‘any problems at all, as a result of what happened here this evening, just give me a call and I will act as a witness for you.’ He turned back to the young man. ‘Do you understand what I am saying?’

  Damario nodded. ‘Thank you, Meester Moore. I am grateful.’

  ‘It’s not a problem,’ said David. ‘Now, why don’t you get back upstairs? You need have no further contact with Ms Black this evening. And do remember to call me if you experience any difficulty.’

  Damario attempted a smile and then, without any acknowledgement of either Eleanor or myself, hastened from the room.

  Eleanor slid her arms back into her dress, zipped it up and, still braless, turned to face us, her enormous bosoms settling at somewhere around waist level. Her eyes had shrunk to regular size and I was grudgingly impressed to note that she seemed to have regained some degree of composure. She silently eyed first David and then myself. I felt genuinely relieved that the row of knives, residing on a magnetic wall plate in the kitchen area, was we
ll out of her reach.

  ‘We just came to say goodbye, Eleanor,’ said David. His voice remained calm but there was now a look about him which recalled to mind Sophie’s assertion earlier in the evening that he was “all man”. ‘I’m sorry this evening has proved so unpleasant in places. I would be very disappointed if that resulted in any negative impact upon Sophie’s reputation or, indeed, upon your own. And I would ask you to bear the latter particularly in mind should you in any way attempt to impugn the reputation of my colleague.’ He turned to me. ‘Shall we go, Alice?’

  I nodded, struck dumb by his air of authority, then led the way out of the basement and upstairs to the front door.

  ‘Do you have a jacket?’ David asked, pointing at the clothes rails as we reached the top of the stairs.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘here it is.’ I removed the jacket from its hanger. David took it from me and held it up for me to slip on.

  He then wordlessly opened the front door, exiting after me and pulling the door closed behind us. Only when we had walked down the stone steps, crossed the drive and reached the pavement, did he release a huge sigh and permit himself a weary grin.

  ‘Well, Alice,’ he said, suddenly regaining the Clark Kent demeanour with which I was so familiar, ‘I think that’s me off the hook, isn’t it?’

  Chapter 20

  The first thing which struck me upon opening the red street door of our offices the Monday after Eleanor Black’s party was the noise – or rather the lack of it. Other than the quiet hum of a printer, just audible through the glass door of Lewis Twinney Legal, I could hear nothing. I checked my watch – eight fifty. Well, perhaps Sophie was running later than usual, or had already gone for coffee.

  I trudged up the stairs, opened the office door and entered. Sophie was sitting with her back to me, facing her screen. I looked across to David’s office. The door was wide open and he too seemed transfixed by his Mac.

  ‘Hi,’ I said, looking at Sophie. ‘Morning, David!’ I called, raising my voice slightly.

  I was greeted by two relatively upbeat-sounding hellos, but there were no attempts at supplementary conversation.

  ‘Hitting the ground running this morning?’ I said to Sophie, taking off my jacket and sitting down at my desk.

  ‘I think,’ she said, turning to face me and lowering her voice, ‘it’s a case of the Monday after the weekend before.’ She jerked her head towards David’s office. ‘For both of us. There’s a coffee somewhere for you.’ She glanced around the office. ‘Oh look, I’ve put it down over there.’ She gestured to the small bookcase behind my desk, which housed beautifully bound editions of just-for-show classics.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, swivelling in my chair and reaching for the cup. ‘So… are you OK?’

  She leaned towards me across her desk. ‘Fancy lunch out?’

  ‘Post mortem?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  I nodded. ‘OK. What have you got this morning?’

  ‘I’m out from ten. Shall I meet you at one at Primrose Café?’

  I smiled. ‘Sounds good.’

  David emerged from his office. ‘Hi,’ he said, walking over to my desk. He offered me a smile which matched his appearance: perfect but exhausted.

  ‘Hi,’ I said. ‘Good weekend? I mean, good Sunday? A relaxing Sunday?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. And you?’

  ‘Well, I de-cluttered my wardrobe and defrosted the freezer. So that was exciting.’ I laughed and was rewarded with two polite smiles. ‘You had your sister with you, didn’t you, Sophie?’

  ‘Yep.’ She stood up. ‘Which was as wonderful as it always is. Anyway, I’m going to head off for my ten o’clock. I need to pick up some stuff on the way. See you later!’ She held up an index finger to silently confirm our one o’clock lunch, and was gone.

  I looked at David. He held out a Post-it note. ‘Could you follow this up please, Alice? It’s a renovation in Abbots Leigh. I think you’d love it. Give him a call and see what you think.’

  ‘OK. Thanks.’ I took the details from him. He placed his hands in his pockets and remained standing at my desk. I looked up at him questioningly.

  ‘I wish she’d shout at me or something,’ he said.

  ‘Who? Eleanor?’

  ‘No, no. Sophie,’ he said. ‘She got in at eight fifteen, brought me a coffee at eight forty-five and worked silently in between. She didn’t tell me to get more sleep or to cheer up. She didn’t claim to be fed-up of always being the only one bothered to get the coffees and she didn’t complain when I did the annoying cough.’

  ‘Not even when you did the cough?’

  He shook his head sadly. ‘I tried it twice.’

  ‘That’s weird. Mind you,’ I added, ‘she probably thinks you need a bit of peace and quiet after Saturday. You look like you could do with a day off. Is all well? No repercussions?’

  ‘None at all. Except that.’ He pointed to the note in my hand. ‘It’s from an animatronics chap Sophie got chatting to at the party. Henry Stern. Works in film and television. He called me first thing. He was clearly impressed with Sophie’s informal pitch and apparently Ben Battersby sang our praises to him too.’ He smiled. ‘There are more pleasant than unpleasant people in the world, aren’t there?’

  I nodded. ‘Far more. I’ll give him a call and arrange a visit. I stuck the note to my phone. Right.’ I shifted in my seat and made as if to switch on the Mac, but David didn’t move. ‘Is there anything else?’ I asked.

  He looked up, as if surprised. ‘What? Oh no, no. Sorry. I was miles away.’ He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘You know how it is. Things on my mind.’

  ‘Yes, I know how it is,’ I sighed. ‘But, if you ever want to talk about those things, I’m always happy to listen. I will, of course, constantly drag the conversation back to me and offer no solutions whatsoever, but I can always take copious notes and pass your issues on to Miriam. She loves that sort of thing.’

  He smiled and rolled his eyes. I smiled and shrugged. And then he turned and walked back into his office and we carried on with the day.

  Chapter 21

  On arrival at Primrose Café, I bought a mug of tea and went in search of Sophie. I found her sitting on the upstairs terrace, peering at her phone over the top of her enormous, black, beetle-like sunglasses. She looked up and smiled as I arrived.

  ‘Hi,’ I said, ‘sorry I’m late. Your puppet guy in Abbots Leigh had a window to see me this morning and I was there a little longer than expected.’

  ‘Ah, Henry, he was nice. Although, he did go on about…’ she paused and tapped her phone against her lower lip thoughtfully, ‘…stimulation through simulation, was how he put it.’ She wagged a finger at me. ‘So watch out.’

  ‘Well, he was strictly business this morning.’

  ‘Like you’d notice if he wasn’t.’ She laughed and looked again at her phone. ‘And you’re not really late. I was a bit early. I ordered you a fish finger sandwich on wholegrain.’

  ‘Brilliant, thanks.’ I sat down.

  ‘Sorry.’ She nodded towards her phone. ‘I’ll just be one second.’ She tapped the screen. ‘There. Done,’ she said. ‘So,’ she took a deep breath. ‘First things first: Jon’s girlfriend. Who is she and what’s she like?’ She made the enquiry casually enough, with no trace of the distress she had shown on Saturday night. Her expression now revealed nothing more than intense curiosity.

  ‘No idea, I’m afraid.’ I picked up my tea.

  ‘Oh, come on,’ she urged.

  ‘I know nothing,’ I said simply.

  ‘I don’t believe that for a minute,’ she grinned. ‘You two are as thick as thieves.’

  ‘Not about this,’ I said, sipping my tea, my hurt feelings at being shut-out by Jon now resurfacing.

  ‘Ooh, you sound a bit clipped,’ she said, still smiling. ‘What gives?’

  I made a face and replaced my mug on the table. ‘We had a bit of a falling-out on Saturday.’

  Her smile instantly transfo
rmed into open-mouthed disbelief. ‘You and Jon?’ She laughed uncertainly. ‘You’re winding me up.’

  I leaned forward, placing my elbows on the table and resting my chin on my hands. ‘I’m not,’ I said quietly. ‘It was actually quite bad.’

  ‘Bloody hell, I just don’t know what’s going on at the moment,’ she said, her face aghast. ‘And you didn’t sort it out yesterday?’

  ‘Things got worse on Saturday when I tried to sort it out.’ I looked at her miserably. ‘So he hasn’t really left me anywhere to go.’ She sat back in her chair and looked at me; her eyebrows, just visible above her sunglasses, now knitted in puzzlement. I picked up my tea again. ‘It’s nothing for you to worry about. It’s my problem.’

  ‘And it was over his new relationship?’

  ‘It was over me mentioning his new relationship; which I know I shouldn’t have done. But then he wouldn’t let me apologise and when it was time for me to go home, he was actually quite cutting.’

  Sophie shook her head. ‘Cutting?’

  ‘He made some dig about me always talking gibberish. I forget his exact words. But he was determined to stay angry with me and by the end of the evening, I just thought fine.’ I smiled sadly. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Doesn’t it?’ Sophie raised her eyebrows in surprise.

  ‘Well, it didn’t feel great at the time but if he doesn’t want it mentioned then I can do that.’ I shrugged. ‘He probably won’t give it another thought.’

  ‘I doubt that.’ Sophie delved into her bag and took out one of her plastic cigarettes, holding it up apologetically. ‘Still trying,’ she smiled. ‘So, who is she?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘His girlfriend. When did they get together?’

  I sighed. ‘I really know less than nothing. Jon hasn’t told me one word about her. Craig spotted the pair of them in a restaurant. Miriam gossiped to me. That’s how I know.’

  ‘And that’s it?’