Here's Looking at You Read online

  ‘Oh, no. Photoshop funnies. Remember James from Parlez?’

  ‘The nasty schoolboy?’

  ‘Yes. I saved his cat from being run over. He sent me a funny email about it.’

  ‘Oh,’ Patrick raised an eyebrow.

  A slight, ever so slight, cool wind blew through the room.

  ‘He’s grown on you?’

  ‘A little. A tiny little bit.’

  ‘Remember when people like him are being charming, it’s usually in pursuit of their own ends. Ends which will only become clear to you at a later date.’

  Patrick’s head abruptly withdrew.

  Anna’s smile faded, and she was left with the mild discomfort of thinking Patrick’s cynicism might well prove to be justified.

  An email ping. BDSM Neil. You can’t keep a good man down.

  Dear Anna,

  My word – more sarcastic humour, your favourite weapon in attack as form of defence. You have myriad problems in relating to the opposite sex, Anna, and a greater terror of honesty than I even thought. I’ll make you a prediction: you will still be online in a few months’ time. And you may find yourself yearning to take up my offer of a second date … See you there. If I am still single, of course

  Warmest regards,

  Neil xxx

  32

  ‘Thanks for doing this, pal,’ Laurence said, as they nursed lagers in the squeezed environs of the Donmar bar, pints that would surely be trying to make a break from their bladders within five minutes of the curtain going up.

  ‘No problem, I quite fancied seeing this,’ James shrugged. He wasn’t at all sure of the wisdom of helping Loz with a set-up.

  ‘You liar. As if. You’re back in the game, and I for one am glad of it. Who’s she bringing?’ Laurence said.

  ‘Not sure,’ James said, and had a shiver of apprehension about how Laurence would behave.

  Actually, Loz was half right. The media fuss and star casting aside, James thought Friction Burns looked like an incredibly pretentious waste of time. And it was about the impossibility of romantic relationships, a topic he could live without exploring at the moment.

  But the tickets were going begging and no one else who happened to be free was over thirty, or understood the point of seeing something without 3D, flying lumps of CGI or Jason Statham.

  James was grumbling that letting the tickets to Friction Burns go to waste was ungrateful and they should at least return them to the Donmar, when a plan had formed that suited various agendas all at once. First and foremost, the dumped James not sitting in feeling sorry for himself agenda.

  And he owed Anna for her efforts during LutherGate. It was only once they were chasing the dim bugger that he’d realised that his death would have felt like it symbolised the end of everything with Eva. Possibly literally as well as symbolically. She’d have gone ballistic.

  He’d half wanted to warn Anna that Laurence was on the prowl, but decided against it, given that it was a trifle patronising. She was a woman in her thirties, not a teenager, and Laurence had hardly disguised his amorous interest at the school reunion. She could more than look after herself, if their interactions had been anything to go by.

  A tap on his shoulder. Anna, black of hair and bright of eye in that grey students’ coat, and a sight for his sore eyes after an hour of Laurence’s innuendo and office gossip.

  She was accompanied by a friend she introduced as Michelle, and her sister, Aggy. Michelle had generous features, an equally generous shelf of bosom, and short hair in a shade of cochineal red. Her resting expression made her look permanently poised to utter something confrontational. Michelle was not quite who James would’ve pegged as an Anna friend, somehow.

  Anna’s sister was less beautiful than her older sister, in James’s opinion, albeit more dressy and made-up. She was full of that vivacious nonsensical chatterbox energy that some men found beguilingly bubbly and others found extremely wearying. He was in the latter camp.

  Did he imagine both of them looked at him in a slightly hostile way?

  Laurence did pop eyes behind their backs as they went to the bar and James’s stomach muscles tensed. Please don’t be an arsehole.

  ‘Sister’s another person of interest. Not sure about the other one – Maximum Baggage Allowance. Quite the upholstery. But what’s that hair colour, Russ Abbot’s “See You Jimmy” Scotchman?’ Laurence whispered.

  ‘Loz,’ James hissed, face growing warmer.

  Laurence laughed, clearly taking James’s objection to mean that they might overhear, as opposed to embarrassed anger that he’d said it at all.

  ‘I’ve got a question for you,’ Laurence said to Anna, when they reassembled. ‘Your cousin Beth’s leaving do. How was it?’

  ‘Oh. Er …’ Anna looked startled. Her sister’s brow creased and James could swear she mouthed ‘Who’s Beth?’

  ‘You didn’t go! You blew us out and then you legged it!’

  Anna carried on looking dumbstruck whilst Laurence continued, ‘But Fate has thrown us back together.’

  ‘Or, James,’ Anna said, finding her voice again.

  ‘Well Fate had to throw you two together at work, so really he’s Fate’s intermediary,’ Laurence said. ‘He does Fate’s admin. Fate’s tea boy.’

  James smiled tightly and thought the four letter f-word on Laurence’s mind was hardly fate.

  Oh my God but the play was awful. Just awful. James sank lower in his stalls seat every minute. In fact, ringside seat took on a whole new meaning, given the utter ringpiece who was centre stage.

  No wonder so few people went to the theatre. He had half a mind to call the Arts Council and complain.

  The worst of it was that by arranging the tickets, he somehow felt entirely responsible for the content. As if he’d shouted hey guys get a load of this!

  And, oh woe, the discomfiting and frequent nudity. He really would’ve liked a warning that Little Dylan Kelly (the even littler one) was going to make more than one appearance. James tried to gaze at the stage impassively while Dylan waved it around, so he didn’t look like a prude who hated art.

  He snuck a sideways glance at the row next to him. Anna’s sister seemed to be oblivious to the horrors of the play, and was rapt, lips slightly apart, eyes wide, lost in every word onstage. Anna’s friend looked indifferent, hand digging in her bag of wine gums. Laurence was doing his fake-intellectual concentration scowl, chin on one hand. Anna was … Anna was smiling? She must’ve felt his gaze on her as she turned towards him. James smiled back. James discreetly mimed gun in mouth and firing. Anna’s smile widened into a grin. He turned back to the stage, feeling significantly better.

  ‘What truth is there in love?’ Dylan Kelly prowled into a spotlight, addressing the crowd, as the play rattled to its staggering conclusion that everyone and everything in life was crap.

  ‘Love is the drug. It’s an opiate, an analgesic to ease the loneliness of the human condition. And like all painkillers, it dulls the senses. Love is what we call it when we find someone else, but lose ourselves.’

  Oh shut the fuck up and put some trousers on.

  33

  ‘That was very thought-provoking,’ Laurence said.

  ‘Yes, provoking the thought of how shit it was,’ James said.

  Anna knew James to be pitiless in his wit but she had to admit, he had a point here.

  ‘You didn’t like it?’ Laurence asked, in what sounded like a telephone manner version of his real voice.

  ‘I haven’t felt that much resentment towards an Irishman screwing people since I last flew Ryanair.’

  Michelle guffawed and James grinned at her. Anna was glad they seemed to have hit it off. However, Aggy’s nerves seemed to have made her dafter than usual and she’d said a few things that had left James staring blankly.

  Laurence had suggested a post-show drink and they’d ended up crammed into a Covent Garden pub for out-of-towners – all leaded windows, London bus red gloss paint and polished horse brasses – hold
ing warm alcohol in cloudy glasses.

  ‘I tell you what I learned. That Dylan Kelly is packing a kidney shifter,’ Michelle said.

  James and Laurence grimaced.

  ‘Warm room,’ Laurence muttered.

  ‘He was so lush though,’ Aggy said, fanning her face with her programme.

  ‘Really, you think?’ James asked, genuinely.

  Aggy would usually squeal in response to a question like this, about such a subject. Instead she mumbled and fell slightly quiet and nodded. Anna thought it was amazing that James Fraser’s powers could silence her sister. It created a slightly awkward pause, however.

  ‘He looked like a pervy roofer who’d inflate his quote, flirt with your missus and eat all your good biscuits, to me.’

  Anna laughed but felt a shiver at James’s snobbery. Roofer? Her brother-in-law-to-be was a decorator. Not all honest toil took place on laptops, you know. You with your Macbook Airs and graces. Michelle asked Aggy if she fancied nipping out for a smoke, leaving Anna feeling vaguely relieved.

  ‘What did you think of it?’ Laurence asked Anna. He looked at her over the rim of his glass and she got the distinct impression this was a set-up.

  ‘Uhm,’ Anna put her head on one side. ‘It was a bit … I think it tilted at these big revelatory truths and didn’t deliver. I mean, why did he end up going back to the art gallery owner Eloise woman who’d treated him like crap?’

  ‘Because we’re all suckers for punishment?’ Laurence said, with a rueful laugh.

  ‘There was nothing to her though. She was so cold.’

  ‘Sometimes it’s the ones who treat you the worst that you like the most.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s fine when you’re twenty-two. But this character was meant to be in his mid-thirties. I don’t think you can carry on being hung up on an icicle in a push-up bra indefinitely without it saying something about you.’

  She glanced at James, who was staring determinedly in the direction of the jukebox. Anna had a belated twinge that he might be making a connection with his own situation. She’d never met his ex-wife though, so how could it be personal?

  ‘You know. There comes a point when unlikeable people having a lot of sex is just unlikeable people having a lot of sex. I wasn’t sure why I was meant to care about them,’ Anna concluded.

  ‘Heartily agree,’ said James.

  ‘I’d love to write something like that, but better,’ Laurence mused.

  ‘Hahaha,’ James perked up. ‘About scoring with lots of women? The Shag Wangler. From the mind of Laurence O’Grady.’

  Laurence failed to smile and seemed irritated.

  ‘You’ll be like that pick-up artist guy who wrote The Game. The British seaside version.’

  ‘No need to make me sound so shallow. I do a fair bit of navel gazing.’

  ‘Yeah, I think it’s meant to be your own navel you’re gazing at,’ James said, and Anna laughed even though Laurence didn’t look best pleased at this.

  James’s phone went and Anna tried to concentrate on Laurence’s chat instead of overhearing what was an obviously tense exchange.

  Well my mum wasn’t to know … seriously Eva, now? I know the beast’s stupid but I don’t think it’s going to commit suicide before I get home … oh for fu—alright, The Lamb & Flag. Yep sure bye.

  He rang off, pausing Anna and Laurence’s conversation.

  ‘Erm. Eva’s read something about lily pollen being poisonous to cats and wants to go round and remove a plant my mum bought. Apparently two hours’ time isn’t good enough. She’s coming to get the keys from me.’

  Anna had a shiver of curiosity at getting to meet the ex-wife. If she really was ex – for all she knew, James and Eva were into those stormy tempestuous relationships where you split up every five weeks to keep it spicy.

  ‘She really uses that Ewok creature to pussy whip you, doesn’t she?’ Laurence said. ‘Pussy whip … cat … get it? Haha.’

  James grimaced.

  ‘Hang on,’ Laurence said. ‘When did you tell her the house was going on the market?’

  James’s eyes flickered to Anna’s. She knew he wasn’t comfortable discussing this in front of her.

  ‘Today?’ Laurence persisted. Anna sensed Laurence rather liked the embarrassment boot being on the other foot now.

  James nodded.

  ‘You know what she’s doing, don’t you? She’s checking out who you’re with this evening, and going back to the house to see if there’s any signs of a struggle, if you know what I mean. Bedroom-wise.’

  James looked intensely uncomfortable, shrugged. Anna looked away. Laurence was referring to him seeing someone in particular, she guessed. It didn’t quite fit with the slight air of melancholy she’d scented round at his, but then, maybe he was able to nurse a broken heart and run a furious rumping schedule at the same time.

  When Eva slipped through the pub doors, it looked as if prime years Debbie Harry had been given a walk-on part in a fly-on-the-wall reality show. She had Milkybar hair, high cheekbones, feline eyes, and a taut, tiny body, her legs looking like a chicken wishbone in dark denim.

  ‘Eva, how the devil are you!’ Laurence swooped in for a peck on the cheek.

  ‘Hi Laurence,’ she said, unsmiling.

  Eva’s voice had that diamond hard, sexy edge that came from Scandi-accented English.

  James made introductions.

  ‘Eva, this is Anna, her sister Aggy, and Michelle.’

  Eva’s expression implied James had introduced Crystal, Rio and Candy-Blush in Stringfellows. And in the visual sweep, did Anna imagine Eva’s eyes lingered on her the longest?

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ Eva said, in a voice drained of colour.

  Everyone else resumed talking while Anna pretended to listen while in fact earwigging on James and Eva as he handed her the house keys.

  ‘If you put them under the blue plant pot when you’re done.’

  ‘I’m going to put the flowers in the bin and take the bin out.’

  ‘Whatever you think,’ James said. ‘I’ll tell my mum not to make such a thoughtless gesture again.’

  Anna glanced over. Eva was staring at James, as if she couldn’t work out whether to rise to this or not.

  ‘It could kill Luther.’

  ‘Yep. Got that.’

  Anna was struck by how little Eva was making any concession to crashing a social occasion. She’d angled her body to cut James off from the rest of the party, her tone querulous. He looked grim.

  She said: ‘Nice to meet you all,’ again before she went, but it had a tone of blunt challenge to it, to Anna’s ears. Like a police officer saying have a good day when he actually meant don’t commit any crimes.

  No wonder James might’ve taken the being hung up on an icicle in a bra thing personally, what with the refrigerated wife. Bet they suit each other though, Anna thought, as she sipped her sauvignon blanc.

  On the Tube on the way home, Michelle and Aggy both loyally tutted about James Fraser. His manners weren’t too bad, they both said. And yes he was horribly handsome. He was so proud of himself, though. They much preferred the garrulous Laurence who, bar the laboured attempts to chat up Anna, had actually been pretty effortfully charming.

  For her part, Anna felt as if James looked through her, and Laurence looked at her too much.

  34

  It took James some time to realise that Parker was shouting at him, over the din of Duran Duran. He’d been selecting Anna’s footage for the app. She was right, it was so compelling it was a question of choosing what to leave out. As he watched, he realised she looked a fair bit like Empress Theodora herself. They had the same dark, soulful eyes.

  ‘I saw you last night,’ Parker said, once the music had been turned down.

  ‘Oh?’ James said, neck prickling slightly.

  ‘With your girlfriend. Walking through Cov Garden?’

  Lexie glanced over.

  ‘Ah,’ James said.

  He was flustered. A simple mista
ke to make, which in turn he should simply correct. But it was convenient. ‘She’s not my girlfriend,’ might spark more inquiries about his imaginary girlfriend, whose bio he’d yet to invent. Exploiting the confusion was too tempting. But who exactly did Parker see …?

  ‘You never said when we met her at the museum meeting!’

  Ah.

  ‘Uhm. No. Separating business and pleasure and all that.’

  Argh, what was he doing? This was bad.

  ‘She had a go at us!’ Parker guffawed.

  ‘Yeah. She’s good at separating it,’ James said.

  ‘You were seeing each other then?’

  ‘Uh. Kind of …’

  What a tangled web we weave, when first we practise to deceive. Or put another way: lying is a very bad idea.

  What a mess.

  If James had simply toughed out that horrible power surge of curious pity after he’d told them about Eva, he wouldn’t be in this predicament. He’d been weak. He’d lied and been believed and he was paying the price. It was the gift that kept on taking.

  ‘What’s this?’ Harris said, from his position at one end of the Subbuteo table. ‘You’ve actually seen the elusive girlfriend, Parks?’

  Parker nodded.

  ‘Well well,’ Harris said. He was playing table football while wearing a chequered bowler hat and a burger restaurant t-shirt saying In’N’Out, Home Of The Double Double. ‘We’d started to think your new girlfriend was a butternut squash with a face drawn on it with a Sharpie.’

  ‘Hey I’d never cheat with one of your butternut squash family, I know what they mean to you,’ James said, limply, to a ripple of giggles.

  He hated playing Harris’s games, but he didn’t know how else to deal with him without lapsing into open hostility. It was like being back at school.

  ‘She’s on the British Museum exhibition,’ Parker added. Parker wasn’t bitchy, but he was guileless, so as an informant to Harris he could do damage inadvertently.

  ‘Really?’ Harris said, rattling the handles, obviously working out if there was any way he could use this to cause trouble. ‘So you’ve been sticking to your briefs as well as sticking to the brief?’