Let's Pretend, page 21
Talia, I could see, was paying for the coffees. She turned back to smile at the other two with a look I knew very well – happy, nervous, eager to please. I knew exactly what she’d be saying, too: My treat.
As soon as the coast was clear, I phoned Nina to ask if she knew about the proposed Adam Harker Academy of Dramatic Tricks. She was out with Nick and distracted. ‘Ask Talia yourself,’ she said. ‘It’s about time you two started talking again.’
‘I will. I just want to get some background first.’
‘I don’t know much about it, to be honest. It’s a Harker family initiative; then Sarah asked Talia to get involved. Talia – or her dad, technically – is donating the house.’
‘Blimey.’
‘Talia’s as generous as she’s gullible. We know that.’ Nina cackled. ‘I mean, I’ve been leeching off her for years.’
Is that what was happening here? Adam said he’d given his family various handouts, and maybe there’d been a bit of cash from his estate, but it couldn’t have been all that much. He’d said himself that he’d snorted most of his earnings up his nose. Luke Zane was meant to be his big payday.
So maybe Talia was Sarah’s.
Talia wasn’t the only person I needed to reconnect with. Zalandra had emailed me, saying she was now back at home and ready to arrange our promised meeting. I hadn’t replied. And I’d had two missed calls from Dan during my interview with Grace, as well as three from the Momager.
To get the worst over with first, I started with my mother.
‘You know I don’t like to meddle, but I think you’re being very cavalier with poor Dan,’ was how she began the conversation. ‘He got in touch with me this afternoon because he’s concerned he hasn’t heard from you today and you haven’t replied to his last message. Quite apart from your contractual obligations, I would think you’d be more sensitive to Dan’s emotional well-being. He’s still in a very vulnerable place. Good communication is key to any successful relationship. And, frankly, I would appreciate some communication too. Where have you been? What are you doing? Have you even started on that life-in-a-day piece for Stylist?’
‘I’ve been following something up … research …’
‘Research for a role?’
‘Right. Lead detective.’
‘Don’t play games with me.’ Her voice sharpened. ‘You’d better not be pursuing more ridiculous conspiracy theories about your wastrel fake ex. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times: any muck you rake up will inevitably end up all over you.’
That’s what Grace had said too.
‘No muck-raking, just mending fences. I’m hoping to meet up with Talia, in fact. Apparently she’s helping to set up a drama school in Adam’s name.’
The Momager’s breath hissed. ‘That viper … I’m only surprised she’s waited this long to capitalise on the junkie’s death. She’s an even more shameless self-promoter than that trampy mother of hers.’
‘Talia’s just the money guy. It’s Adam’s sister who’s running the show. Oh, and Dido’s going to be a patron. Maybe I’ll be invited to be one too.’
I didn’t mean this seriously but my mother was part-mollified.
‘Well,’ she said righteously, ‘after everything you did for Adam, it’s the very least you deserve.’
So I heard about the summer school, I messaged Talia. I think it’s an amazing idea. Then – eye roll – Adam would have loved it.
I was still surprised when she called me back.
‘It’s me …’ she said ten minutes later, her little-girl voice all of a tremble. ‘Talia?’ Like I’d forgotten who she was. ‘I know you think I’ve been avoiding you. But please don’t be mad.’ On she swept, in that breathless, hiccupy way of hers that made me want to give her a slap and blow her nose for her at the same moment. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t think what to say. Adam – the funeral – his family, his fans – the press – I got overwhelmed. And you were practically the only person – well, the only person I cared about – who knew the truth about Adam and me. I didn’t know what to do with that. I suppose it seemed easier to pretend you weren’t there. That you weren’t a part of any of it.’
‘A part of the lies?’
‘No! I see them more as … make-believe. It’s nicer that way, don’t you think?’
I pulled various faces at the mirror and counted to ten. ‘Well, I’m just glad something good will come out of Adam’s death. Turning that house into a summer drama school, helping young actors … it’s an exciting project.’
‘Really? You really think so? You promise? That’s such a relief, you have no idea. Mummy and Pops won’t take it seriously at all. They think I’m just, you know, playing around, like with the beachwear and the face creams and stuff. But I’m determined to help the Harkers memorialise Adam. It’s a real cause. The whole family have been so inspiring in their grief, so dignified – his sister especially.’
‘That’s … nice.’
‘I think it was kind of hard for Sarah, growing up in Adam’s shadow? But the more I get to know her, the more I see the ways in which they’re alike. The same sense of humour, for instance. It’s almost spooky. Spooky, but sweet.’
‘Mm. I’m glad you’re supporting each other.’
‘People are being so kind. I’ve even got Adam’s publicist to do the PR for us. She’s drafted a press release for next week, for when the Harkers make the announcement, and we’re filming a promotional video this Saturday down at the house.’ Talia paused. ‘Oh! Here’s an idea! Why don’t you come and join me after we’re done? Sarah can’t stay on so it will be just the two of us. There are some gorgeous walks, you know, if the weather’s good. Autumn by the coast is so dramatic. Say yes! Or else we can just curl up by the fire and talk and talk and talk …’
‘Just to be clear: this is the house where Adam died?’
‘His spirit’s definitely there. But in a good way. It’s very peaceful. Walking through the door, it feels … OK, this will sound strange, but it almost feels like a blessing?’
It didn’t just sound strange. It sounded creepy as hell.
‘We’ll have the afternoon to ourselves,’ Talia continued, ‘but maybe I should invite Nina too, for later? That could be fun. And if you get there early you can say hi to your cousin.’
This made me sit up. ‘Dido?’
‘Right! I still find her a teensy bit scary, but I’m starting to realise she’s a softie at heart. And her theatrical connections are gold.’
‘And she’ll be in Norfolk because …?’
‘We’re going to film Dido walking through the grounds, showing the place where the actual theatre is going to be built. She’ll explain why giving young actors support at a really early stage is so important – every time she talks about it I get goosebumps, I swear.’
‘You know that Nina is together with Dido’s ex?’
‘I know. Awkward! But we can make sure they don’t cross paths. Dido’s leaving as soon as the filming’s done, with the journalist who’s doing the interview. He’s a friend of hers. And as for Nina and Nick … I can see why Dido would be upset … but it’s not like there was an overlap.’
I snorted. ‘Indeed not. There was a distinct break. Of a whole five minutes.’
Talia giggled. ‘You know how much I adore Nina – I love her to bits – but her impulses are all over the place. She even tried it on with Adam that same night.’
‘What?’
‘Sarah saw them and messaged me. She was all over him, Sarah said. Practically jumped Adam outside the bathroom. Of course Adam wasn’t having any of it – though not for the reasons Nina probably imagined.’ Talia giggled again. Then she lowered her voice, even though there wasn’t anyone to hear us. ‘I feel bad for her, actually. Sarah said Adam was very rude. As in, super mean.’
I didn’t like any of this. I knew all too well what Nina was like when she was coked up and horny. I could imagine, too, the viciousness of Adam’s rejection. It was starting to look as if Nina hadn’t guessed Adam’s secret after all. Or else this had been her half-baked way of putting her suspicions to the test.
‘Sarah thought I’d be mad, but how could I be? It’s Nina. Nina! We all know what she’s like. She always does crazy shit when she’s drunk and then totally regrets it in the morning. It’s hilarious. She probably doesn’t even remember.’
‘You’re probably right.’ I was thinking, hard. ‘Listen. It would be great to catch up with you. There’s some things I think we need to talk about. About Adam, and … and the night he died.’
‘Yes. You need closure,’ Talia said earnestly. ‘I do too. I mean, that’s part of the reason I’m getting so excited about this summer school. As Sarah says, it’s about creating something positive out of a tragedy, but it’s also about drawing a line. Honestly, I think it would do you good, coming down there. It might be what you need to lay Adam’s spirit to rest.’
‘OK,’ I said, before I could think better of it. ‘Count me in.’
It was now twenty-four hours since Zalandra’s message requesting a meeting had gone unanswered. In the interim, I’d had six missed calls from an unknown number and five emails with no text but WHEN AND WHERE???? in the subject line. The sixth was more ominous: I WILL ALWAYS FIND YOU. So I fired off an apologetic message, saying that I was extremely busy with work but would be in touch as soon as possible. Toodles!
I knew I couldn’t fob off Zalandra for much longer, and that it was probably dangerous even to try, but there was only room for so much crazy in my life. Talia was spamming me with links to self-help guides (Grieving Mindfully: Unmask the Healer Within). Nina had sent me a deluge of gifs and memes on the theme of girl detectives. Scooby Doo also featured. I was starting to wonder if she’d ever taken my investigations seriously or if she was just playing along.
Besides, I needed to focus on the job at hand. Man in hand, that is. Before Dan and I went out to dinner, I had to spend a good half-hour reassuring him that, yes, I was fully committed to the continuing success of our arrangement. I found I was apprehensive about telling him that I’d be going to Norfolk, since it meant cancelling an appearance at one of his colleagues’ birthday drinks.
As it turned out, however, Dan was incredibly solicitous. Which of course made me feel like an ungrateful arse.
‘It must be huge deal for you, revisiting the place where Adam died.’ He laid his hand on mine and looked deeply into my eyes. I smiled bravely back, sensing our fellow diners drinking it all in – Grace couldn’t have arranged a more touching tableau if she’d tried. ‘I don’t like the idea of you going there at all, really, though if you say it will bring closure then of course I have to respect that. But you can’t schlep all that way on the train. Absolutely not. It wouldn’t be appropriate, let alone comfortable. The place is, what, a two-hour drive from London? Two and a half? That’s nothing. I’ve got an old school friend who lives in that part of the world. The two of us can have a pub lunch en route, I’ll drop you off at the house, then go catch up with my mate, and we can reconnect later.’
It wasn’t a bad idea. Nina had tried to persuade me to drive down with her in Nick’s Porsche, but she’d no doubt insist on discussing assorted murder plots and Hollywood sex-rings the whole journey, with the kind of lip-smacking relish I was increasingly exhausted by. I was unsettled, too, by the fact she hadn’t told me about coming on to Adam. She was probably embarrassed. Or, as Talia said, she didn’t even remember. But I felt I needed a bit of a distance before meeting up with the two of them and Dido. Sarah, too, might still be lurking when I arrived. Before facing any of them, I wanted to keep my head clear.
‘Are you sure about this?’ I asked.
Dan smiled. He had a good smile: it made his eyes crinkle and lit up his whole face, so that the bluntness softened. ‘Absolutely. What are friends for?’
More flowers arrived the morning of my trip to Norfolk. The blooms were intact, this time. They were wrapped in a pink satin ribbon stained with what looked like blood. Some of the roses had blood on them too. The note read I’ll Always Be Here for You.
I took a photo, then put the box carefully away on top of the wardrobe. Whether the blood was animal or human, there might well be all sorts of incriminating evidence to be gathered from the contents. Then I’d turn up to my meeting with Zalandra with a recording device and make sure she let rip with the crazy, before taking everything to the police. Screw her. She was a sad-sack psycho who was most likely going to spend the rest of her life in an asylum.
As for me … I knew what the scene outside my flat on Saturday morning must look like. An attractive couple, all smiles, getting ready to set off in a fancy car for a country weekend. Bags packed with cashmere knits and designer wellies. Eyes bright with the anticipation of muddy walks and dirty sex, most likely in front of a crackling log fire. #CountryStyle #BackToNature #Getaway
Who would guess that my hunky fake boyfriend was actually just giving me a lift down to the house where my gay fake ex-boyfriend was murdered?
#Haunted #TrueCrime #Killer
But there were still moments when it almost felt like a holiday. As we loaded our overnight bags into the back of Dan’s convertible, he fussed about whether I’d remembered to pack walking boots and if my waterproofs were suitable. ‘The catering is on me,’ he said, holding up a bag bulging with gourmet junk food. ‘You can’t have a road trip without good snacks. Almost as crucial as good music.’
Dan was an unabashed petrol-head, and once behind the wheel, he was more relaxed than I’d seen him for … well, ever. We were soon bantering about our rival playlists and reminiscing about the car-ride games we’d played as children. Dan talked about his daughter, Lulu, which wasn’t something he often did because it made him emotional, and the road trips he planned on taking her on once she was older – ‘Route 66, obviously; that’s the classic. But then there’s the Great Ocean Road, Australia. Has to be done. And we could start closer to home, in Ireland, with the Wild Atlantic Way …’ We talked about our favourite travel destinations and the people we’d met there, and the best ways to let off steam after dealing with difficult colleagues. I realised it was a long while since I’d had a conversation that was entirely free of intrigue or regret.
My phone rang several times during the first hour of the journey. An unknown number. Zalandra, no doubt.
‘Shouldn’t you get that?’ Dan asked.
‘No, I know what it’s about. Some nonsense I have to deal with once I’m back.’ I switched the phone to silent, pushing thoughts of the bloodied pink ribbon away. ‘I don’t want to think about it now.’
He looked pleased.
As we zoomed onto a particularly green and pleasant stretch of road, Dan put down the roof of the convertible. Cold bright air whipped through my hair; I closed my eyes and tilted my face towards the open sky. Foo Fighters blasted from the stereo. Maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be all right.
The pub Dan had selected for our lunch was an English tourist board’s wet dream: a higgledy-piggledy warren of inglenook fireplaces and age-blackened beams, set in a leafy hamlet complete with duck pond. The landlady had apple cheeks. The menu was heavy on craft beer and game pies. On requesting a quiet spot, we were ushered away from the bar and into a private snuggery with its own wood-burning stove and snoozing cat. Here, the landlady asked for a selfie with Dan. ‘We’re all such fans,’ she said, blushing furiously. ‘Aww. The feeling’s mutual,’ he said, giving her shoulders a matey squeeze.
He meant it, too. ‘What a gem,’ he said, once we were alone. ‘This is the life. Lovely stuff. Funny how it’s only once I’m out of the city that I remember how much I hate the place.’ He stretched in his chair. ‘I owe you one.’
‘For recruiting you as my chauffeur?’
‘Ah, but I’m only in it for the snacks.’
We smiled.
Rain started to spot the window as our food arrived. ‘Is something wrong?’ Dan asked, seeing me play about with a forkful of mushrooms. They were gritty with parsley and slimy with cream.
‘No, it’s good. A bit heavy, that’s all.’
‘You eat like a bird. You need feeding up. Here – try this.’ He brought a steaming forkful of venison pie to my mouth. ‘Open wide.’
It felt rude not to, so I obediently swallowed. ‘Mmmm.’
His thumb lightly rubbed the side of my mouth, and I drew back.
‘You had a clingy pastry crumb.’
‘Oh. Thanks.’
It was beginning to feel stuffy in the small room, with the stove pulsing out heat and the thick tapestry curtain drawn against the doorway. The mouthful of venison lay in an indigestible lump in my stomach. I excused myself to go to the bathroom, where I splashed water on my flushed cheeks. On returning, I found Dan standing by the window, looking out towards the pond. ‘Here,’ he said, beckoning me over. ‘Look at this.’
A little old lady and a little old man were feeding the ducks in the drizzle.
‘Sweet,’ I said, though, to be honest, I thought the scene a bit dismal.
Dan rested a hand on my shoulder. ‘Isn’t it? You know, that’s all I ever wanted for Jenny and me. We’d find a nice little place in the countryside, grow old together. Feed the birds in the rain.’
It was a pity Dan’s expressions of marital regret always sounded so mawkish.
Feeling disloyal at the thought, I patted his hand. ‘You’ll still have all that, but with someone who deserves you.’
He turned to look at me. Seriously and deeply, like he had in the restaurant when I’d first talked of revisiting the scene of Adam’s death. ‘You really mean that?’
‘Of course I mean it.’ I tried to think of what Talia might say in a situation like this. ‘You’re an extraordinary person, as well as a great catch. You’re bound to find someone who’s extraordinary too.’
‘I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear you say that.’
