Here's Looking at You Read online

  ‘I think I like this Sarah,’ Michelle said. ‘Shall we go see if Dan needs company?’

  They found him on a stool behind a trestle table full of cotton goods with smudgy transfers, reading Peter Cook’s memoirs. Among the acts whose wares he was touting were Head Office and The Pungency. There wasn’t a lot of consistency to the line-up – rock to thrash to whatever The Unsaids were. Michelle called them twee-folk but Anna guessed that wasn’t how they self-described.

  ‘Business slow?’ Michelle said.

  ‘You could say that, Michelle, or you could imagine the stampede will commence once the music has concluded.’

  ‘You’re a good boyfriend to do this on your night off, you know,’ she said.

  ‘Ah, well. She cooks for me on her nights off,’ Daniel said, doing his big eye blink thing.

  ‘Can we get you a beer?’ Michelle said, and Daniel pointed at a half of bitter at his feet.

  ‘Shout if you need more,’ she said, and then to Anna out of the corner of her mouth as they moved away, ‘Nights off from what?’

  ‘Mind you, “Sarah’s Lies” touched on a universal truth: everyone knows one person at school who IS a massive liar,’ Michelle said, once they’d taken up a position. ‘A boy at my school called Gary Penco said he had a Peregrine Falcon and a Ferrari Testarossa in a lock-up. And speaking of school, now the exhibition thing’s done, you need never see that James again, right? You must be breathing a sigh of relief.’

  ‘Actually …’ Anna paused. It was rather incredible, now she came to tell Michelle.

  ‘I’m going to his works do. As his pretend date.’

  Michelle coughed into her lager, blowing foam onto Anna’s sleeve.

  ‘Sorry, I think you spoke some Italian there. You’re going to his what as his whatty-what?’

  ‘His colleagues saw us together. You know, at the play? And thought I was his girlfriend and I’d plus one him at this do. As a favour to him, rather than correct them in all the confusion, I said I’d go. It’s only an office party.’

  Michelle frowned. ‘Why are you helping him out?’

  Anna shrugged. A very good question. ‘You know I thought having to see him was the worst thing ever? Well, it’s actually turned out OK. It proves to me he doesn’t have the upper hand anymore. Things are different now.’

  ‘He still doesn’t know who you are?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you gonna tell him?’

  ‘No …’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I’ve got no interest in dragging it all up.’

  ‘Then how much of a new dawn is this? Are you thinking he’d be a shit to you if he knew?’

  ‘No …’ Another good question. She imagined James would feel slight guilt and a lot of pity. In what proportions she couldn’t be sure. Anna didn’t want to be pitied.

  ‘Look,’ Anna said, forced into the position of pretending to be sure about something she was unsure about. ‘I’m going with my gut. I feel fine. This is the new chapter you were talking about when you told me to go to the reunion.’

  ‘That involved being yourself. I think posing as his girlfriend sounds weird and unhelpful. And he deserves precisely dick from you.’

  ‘Even if it is stupid, it’s only one night. Then, done.’

  ‘Hmmm. Officially, that’s my verdict on this, Anna. Hmmm.’

  The Unsaids were comprised of two men and Penny, in a woollen dress with ’60s-style calf-length boots. Her voice was absolutely beautiful, clear as a bell and effortlessly melodic.

  Shame about the songs, which, as Michelle observed, sounded like the kind of icky ditties that were often used in adverts to sell nippy city hatchbacks to women, or make everyone feel poignant affinity with the fact a department store was open to sell you things over Christmas.

  When Penny got the hand-bells out and did a little wiggling dance around the stage singing about how she liked hot coffee on cold mornings, Michelle snapped.

  ‘Is the unsaid thing that they could give you Type 2?’ she whispered into Anna’s ear.

  Anna made a shushing gesture at her and Michelle laughed.

  ‘Our next is a cover of a song you probably know as a Nirvana track,’ Penny said, looking out from under her eyelashes.

  They launched into something that Anna recalled from the MTV: Unplugged session as particularly heartfelt and broken. Unfortunately, The Unsaid Things performed it as if it was twiddly fluff.

  ‘Oh this isn’t happening,’ Michelle said in a hoarse whisper, to Anna. ‘They’re not twee folking “Where Did You Sleep Last Night?” It’ll be “Rape Me”, next. Only done with a lisp. Wape Meeeee …’

  ‘Michelle!’ Anna hissed, and Dan appeared at their side. Anna did a friendly ‘need a wee’ type excitement face in the hope that it appeared supportive. ‘Seems to be going well?’

  The band launched into a very quiet, tremulous acoustic number.

  Usually, Anna wasn’t much good at figuring out lyrics. However, Penny’s voice made every last word distinguishable.

  As Anna was holding her Coke, concentrating on making a neutral face of appreciation, she noticed the words about meeting a man / waiting tables. She nearly turned and did a nod at Daniel, but for the fact the tenor of the song was angsty. And the chorus seemed to be a play on the word ‘waiting’, about waiting in vain. All in all it sounded like it added up to a I should dump you ballad.

  There was a smattering of applause at the end and neither Michelle nor Anna could meet Daniel’s eyes. When Michelle suggested another beer, Daniel demurred that he was going to help Penny pack up, and loped off.

  Michelle was less restrained as they walked for the Tube.

  ‘Fuuuuck. Was that last one about what I thought it was?’ Anna said.

  Michelle shook her head. ‘She is something else, I tell you.’

  ‘Why does Dan put up with it?’

  ‘Awful lack of self-esteem when it comes to women. Deep down he must think she’s all he deserves. Makes me mad.’

  ‘Do you think he knew she was going to sing that?’ Anna said.

  ‘Nope. I think she’s an aberration. You know I never told him at the time but I think she was a tip-swiper, you know.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘When she worked at The Pantry. We always pooled the tips. If she got a big tip, she pocketed it. I can’t prove it but I’ve been around long enough to spot the people who won’t tip, and Penny seemed to work a strangely high number of unexpectedly no-tip tables.’

  ‘And you didn’t tell Dan?’

  ‘Didn’t think I needed to, I just fired her in the end, she was rubbish. Next thing I know, they’re going out. I won’t make that mistake again. When friends date an idiot next time, I’ll be upfront in saying so. I’ll use my rights of first reaction. Be warned, if you suddenly decide Mr Too Cruel For School is viable.’

  ‘Hah, hardly! The least likely person in the world.’

  ‘There’s nothing worse than when you lose a good person to a wanker,’ Michelle said, as they reached the station. ‘The day Dan told me he was with her, I was like, man down.’

  40

  As Anna approached the small trendy gaggle standing in the dark drizzle on the South Bank, she felt squirmily out of place. And she was out of place at a Parlez party, what with being a plus one who was here due to a mix-up.

  She was somewhat rueing her decision to do this. That bloody Moet-and-Theodora high had made her feel carelessly generous. Michelle was right, Anna shouldn’t forget she owed James Fraser nothing. Or rather, she owed him a bloody nose. She could simply stand him up, a sort-of revenge.

  Why was she here? Covering his dignity? When he’d so brutally taken hers away, half a lifetime ago?

  Curiosity, she guessed. Even after her humiliation and her indignation, she couldn’t resist taking this chance to go undercover and explore. Like the reunion, it was a onetime deal. Walk in, walk out again on her own terms. She thought seeing James again at work was a taunt fr
om God, but what if it was a useful nudge from Him Above? Go. Look upon this creature and realise that really, him and his people aren’t all that.

  From twenty yards away, the stench of fashion forward was strong. She’d agonised over an outfit that had enough flair not to be drab, and not enough flair to make a statement of any sort, and ended up with another black dress cliché. She hadn’t quite wrapped her head around the idea of being considered fit to be James’s date. His date? His fake date yes, but his date, nonetheless. Her younger self was watching, awestruck. Or possibly, furious.

  Parlez’s staff were all undercuts and buzz cuts and bowl cuts, unusual piercings, flamboyant winterwear and blocky, designer high heels. One man had a Victorian acrobat’s moustache. Another woman had a hairstyle that wasn’t a bun but wasn’t quite a beehive either, a sort of a duck’s bill on the crown of her head. Anna could hear her describing her raggedy tutu to someone else as ‘steampunk courtesan’. What the hell had she walked into? Anna had spent so much of her life hoping her appearance wasn’t remarked upon, she couldn’t imagine courting controversy like that.

  The average age was probably twenty-seven. They surveyed her with a detached curiosity.

  ‘Hi!’ Anna said, in the voice of a gauche supply teacher.

  She raised her hand in a sort-of wave and was relieved that James spotted her and broke from the group.

  He was in a double-breasted navy fisherman’s coat, making her breathe a sigh of relief that he wasn’t into extreme fashion, unless you counted the Clive Dunn granddad chic.

  The cold had made him pale and bright-eyed with wind-whipped hair. He leaned over for a peck on the cheek.

  Anna’s traitorous infantile stomach did a forward roll, all the more pathetic given it was a stunt kiss for show. As their eyes met again, they exchanged a moment of understanding at how awkward this was.

  ‘This is Anna. Anna, this is … everyone. Let’s do names later.’

  There was a desultory ripple of greeting. They all resumed their conversations, apart from a petite fair girl with a long bob and a girlish, open face. She continued staring at Anna with concentrated but not hostile fascination, with her owlish pale blue eyes. Anna thought: aha. I recognise that look. You have the obligatory crush on James. There was always going to be someone.

  James rubbed his hands together and blew into them, saying, ‘We still don’t know what we’re here for. Most bets are on our boss Jez having learned how to fire eat and unicycle at the same time. I for one would be happy to see him try.’

  ‘Attention please, guys!’ called a man with collar-length grey hair in a Crombie coat standing next to a strawberry-blonde woman in a fawn frock coat with a vast furry collar. They radiated monied self-satisfaction like an insulating glow.

  ‘It’s time for Fi and I to reveal how we’re kicking off the evening. Champagne ride on The Eye!’

  ‘The Eye?’ James muttered in disbelief. ‘Bloody hell. We’re actually going to be the first people from London to go on the London Eye.’

  He cast a rueful grin back at Anna and she returned it with a rictus grimace, her stomach in turmoil; turmoil that had nothing to do with James’s matinee idol appearance. She hadn’t even considered they might be going on the London Eye. Why hadn’t she thought of it?

  Giggling, chattering and clapping gloved hands together, the group moved down the South Bank. On arrival, the rich couple went into a huddle with The Eye staff.

  ‘This has got to be about getting a freebie from a client. Total cheapskates,’ James said to Anna, trying for conversation.

  Anna merely nodded and smiled tightly, trying to keep a lid on her panic. She felt trapped. If she said ‘I can’t do this,’ she made a spectacle of herself in front of all these scary people. As she vacillated, Crombie coat man called for attention again.

  ‘OK, OK so we have two capsules! It’s been pointed out that this night-time ride is very romantic. So instead of splitting you all into two groups, why don’t we let a couple ride on their own? Who fancies it?’

  The response was much murmuring and no volunteers. The strawberry-blonde woman whispered something to the Crombie coat man. Looking up, his eye fell on James. ‘James. How about you and your lady?’

  The group turned to look at them.

  ‘Oh. Sure?’ James looked to Anna for support and she did a terse nod to indicate her agreement. Oh my God oh my God oh my God … there was no getting out of it now.

  Mute, she followed him into the futuristic capsule. She was a matchstick figure in a bubble, about to be blown up into the air on a giant’s breath. Do Not Vomit Do Not Vomit Do Not Vomit … She made it to the wooden bench in the centre of the floor and tried to concentrate on the sensation of the furniture beneath her fingers. The door was shut and fastened behind them. To Anna it sounded like a jailer’s lock. Not that she wanted it to be loose. How long would this take? Forever.

  ‘Dear oh dear. A Ferris wheel for tourists. Sorry this is so lame. At least there’s drink,’ James said, picking champagne out of an ice bucket. ‘Want some?’

  Anna, who was briefly unable to reply, shook her head.

  ‘Are you alright?’

  She nodded, but she clearly wasn’t, and James kept staring.

  ‘I have a fear of heights,’ she said in a small voice, and winced as they jerked into movement.

  ‘Really? Why didn’t you say? If nothing else, it would have been a good excuse to get out of this.’

  ‘I didn’t want to make a fuss … I mean, I didn’t think we’d written fear of heights into this character I’m playing.’

  James looked nonplussed but gratified.

  ‘You have a lot of heroism.’ He studied her. ‘You’re not going to vom all over the place, are you?’

  41

  Anna kept her eyes closed as she felt the gentle ascent upwards and willed her gastric contents to stay where they were. When she opened them again, James was sipping from a full glass, looking concerned.

  ‘I feel so bad, Anna. You should’ve said.’

  ‘Look at the view, don’t worry. I’ll be fine,’ she squeaked, waving her arm.

  She watched as he carried his drink over to the curved window. They were quiet for a while.

  ‘You really can’t look at the view at all?’ James asked eventually. ‘I know I was cynical, but it’s fairly amazing. Maybe the champagne’s kicked in already.’

  ‘I wish I could, but no,’ Anna said, looking down at her grey-white knuckles.

  ‘Does it help if I talk? Or is it better if I shut up?’ James said.

  ‘Talk, definitely.’

  ‘When did you get your fear of heights?’

  ‘Oh take my mind off it, cheers!’

  They laughed.

  ‘It was going up the Leaning Tower of Pisa as a child.’

  Pause.

  ‘Is that true? You’re so dry sometimes, I can’t tell when you’re joking.’

  ‘Seriously. It sounds too Italian, doesn’t it? Like “I was blinded when I got hit in the eye by a big pizza pie.” Back in the day you were allowed up the Leaning Tower and it didn’t have any guard rails outside. This is way before the era of health and safety regs and ambulance chasers, obviously.

  ‘My dad was letting me go up the steps in front of him. When we were near the top, I charged out onto one of the balconies and nearly went right over the edge. It was only because I had long hair my dad was able to grab me and pull me back. I still remember that feeling of “oh NO!” as the drop loomed and I realised I was about to fall. And I knew it was going to be curtains for me if I did. As much as you can do at six or whatever. It’s not an age at which you should confront mortality. I haven’t been able to cope with heights since then. It’s like ongoing post-traumatic stress disorder. It triggers the memory.’

  ‘Crazy how one bad experience can reverberate down the years like that, isn’t it?’ James said. It was so painfully apposite that Anna thought he might know, except he added, ‘Like when my old firm persuaded
me to try a client’s fat-dissolving pills. What comes out of you is like margherita cheese. Papa John’s delivery never looked the same again.’

  Anna laughed. Another lapse in conversation.

  ‘How’s it going with the internet dating?’ James said, eventually.

  ‘Useless as ever.’

  ‘Is it possible your profile needs another look?’

  ‘Oh wow, cheers! “Is it possible it’s your fault”?!’

  ‘No!’ James said, though with a wide grin. Anna got the feeling not many women gave him the gyp she did, and he liked it.

  ‘Absolutely not. Actually the thought process was more that it can only be something like that. Hey, why not look over your profile? I work on the internet, I do some copywriting. I also listen to Laurence’s analysis of them often enough. Could help with the view from the other side?’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Take your mind off the height,’ James said, producing his phone and making an indulge me face.

  ‘Are you going to embarrass me?’ Anna said, feeling a constriction in her stomach muscles that was due to both the height and their history.

  ‘I promise I won’t. Come on, more embarrassing than the bollock I dropped at the exhibition?’

  Anna laughed and put her head on one side.

  ‘True …’

  She didn’t much like the thought of James reading her pitch to prospective partners. But she also wanted to know what he thought. OK, he was evil, but he was also bright and … attractive. Yes. She wanted the view from the other side.

  Anna gave him her name on the site and waited, tense, while James muttered about the 3G signal.

  ‘Oh-kay, here you are.’

  ‘No mockery!’

  ‘No mockery. Unless you’ve put “enjoys the finer things in life”. Now then. Nice picture. But only three of them?’