Here's Looking at You Page 25

  ‘Fi’s in London so she’s coming over at lunchtime to speak to you.’

  ‘Fine,’ James said, stalking back to his desk before Harris could enjoy himself further. After a minute or two of swirling confusion, apprehensiveness and fury he decided to call Anna and demand an explanation.

  He ducked out of the office and left a voicemail after two missed (almost certainly dropped) calls.

  Jeez. So much for apologising to her. Anna didn’t seem well balanced last weekend, but this was outer space monkey nuts. He didn’t think she’d be that spiteful. He clearly hadn’t got the measure of her at all.

  To think he’d thought she was nice? Woo-ee. From now on he’d trust his first impressions.

  James returned to his seat. As the minutes ticked by, conversation barely rose above a murmur. Eventually, Harris could take the exquisite tension of waiting for Fi no longer.

  ‘Hey, James. How are you feeling, knowing you’re going to be sacked like Rome?’ he sneered. ‘In the sack race, you’re taking first place. You’re back, SACK and cracked. You are in SACKcloth and ashes …’

  ‘Yeah, hilarious, Harris, you Lord of the Lols, you,’ James said. ‘Can I make it clear? When I said there were one or two exceptions to the dickhead rule, I definitely didn’t mean you.’

  A glimmer of light in his darkest hour: there was a surprising amount of laughter at this. Harris looked like a gnome smelling a fart.

  53

  People often used the term ‘throwing yourself into work’ as if it was a negative thing; a way to avoid tackling your problems. In Anna’s view though, throwing yourself into work was infinitely better than throwing yourself into a canal, under a bad man or turkey-gobbling Xanax.

  Speaking of bad men, there had been one surprise interaction with a newly sympathetic Laurence, who had wanted to tell her how sorry he was about the Mock Rock. Anna was pretty sure it would be the last interaction they ever had, if she was right about the only goal Laurence was pursuing.

  Michelle was right, she relished being her work-self again. Having given a pretty damn rousing lecture to her third years, she headed back across campus feeling buoyant for the first time in weeks. Torching her school diaries might’ve been ceremonial but it had the desired effect. She’d have cheerfully burned an effigy of James along with them.

  On the walk from lecture hall to office, she thought she heard her mobile pipping in her bag and investigated the caller ID as soon as she’d put her folders down. She pulled her phone out and was disconcerted to see it was James Fraser. A voicemail message winked at her.

  This was not good. Michelle might think James could find it in him to say sorry, but Anna didn’t think for a moment his pride would permit it. And if it did, he’d hardly be moved to do it in the middle of a Monday morning.

  She listened to the message.

  ‘Anna. I have no idea what the hell you’re playing at, but this attack really is shit behaviour on a grand scale. Can you call me back? And if you think you can dodge me by not answering my calls, I’ll come and sit in your reception until you see me. Looks like I’ll soon have the time on my hands to do it.’ Click. Dialling tone.

  Attack? Something was very, very wrong. Trying to summon up defiant courage instead of fear, she called his number. He answered on a later ring than she expected, then she sussed from the traffic in the background he’d belted out into the street.

  ‘Hello? You wanted to speak to me?’ she said. ‘I’m not dodg—’

  She didn’t manage to finish the sentence.

  ‘Yeah I did. Can you tell me why you think this is a proportionate response to something I did nearly two decades ago? To lose me my job? You know I have something we didn’t have when we were sixteen, called a mortgage? And bills?’

  ‘What’s a proportionate response?’

  ‘The email. With the recording.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Oh man, this is pitiful, insulting stuff. You’re actually going to go through the rigmarole of pretending it wasn’t you?’

  Anna pushed her chair back and stood up as her heart went off like a fire alarm.

  ‘I honestly have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.’

  She’d spoken with enough force that there was a beat of silence.

  ‘My company has been sent a file with a recording of me slagging off my job and the people I work with. It’s from when we met to do the Q and A session that time in the lecture theatre. I was angry and shouldn’t have said what I did to you, but I had no idea you’d recorded the whole thing.’

  Anna was dumbstruck and a trifle nauseous.

  ‘I didn’t know that existed. And I didn’t send it.’

  ‘What, so someone else at UCL bugged our meeting, and has it in for me, a week after we’ve had a barney? Are there other suspects? I don’t think Poirot would be rounding everyone up in the drawing room for this one.’

  ‘No,’ Anna paced her office and felt the heat of the phone on her ear. ‘I thought we only recorded the Q and A. I never even had the file. You say it was emailed?’

  ‘Yes. Marked as from UCL but from an anonymous Gmail account.’

  ‘If I was going to send it, why would I hide it was me? As you pointed out, everyone would think it was me anyway.’

  ‘Then who did?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  James exhaled. He didn’t sound much mollified and Anna could appreciate why. He was in no less trouble, but without the satisfaction of a clear-cut enemy.

  ‘Hang on …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The audio was set up by my colleague, Patrick. He’s the only person I told about our conversation. He took the opposite of a shine to you at the launch. It’s possible he heard the whole recording. I don’t know why he’d send the file though.’

  ‘Is he ginger?’

  ‘Fairly.’

  ‘I think I remember him. And he knew we’d had a bust-up?’

  ‘No … I didn’t tell him myself.’ Wait – Michelle said Patrick had wanted to know what was behind Anna’s absence? ‘My friend Michelle might have told him.’

  James sighed.

  ‘Marvellous. Well, I have been completely done over,’ James said, though slightly less angrily.

  ‘Are you in a lot of trouble?’

  ‘My boss Fi is coming in to deliver the bullet at lunchtime. I’ll be on monster.co.uk by tomorrow no doubt. If I’m not in the pub, with my head on the bar.’

  ‘If I speak to your boss, maybe I can help?’

  ‘You could try but it’s not going to do much when she’s got the recording. Not really a he said, she said thing, is it? More of a “Everyone Heard”.’

  ‘I’m sorry, James.’

  ‘Thanks. So am I. See you around.’ He rang off.

  54

  Anna had to steel herself before she could embark on the short journey down the corridor to Patrick’s office. She didn’t know quite what she was about to find, but she was fairly sure she wasn’t going to like it. Had Patrick done this? Why? How could he? And how was she going to accuse him without … accusing him?

  She rapped her knuckles on the wood and walked straight in when Patrick called, ‘Come in!’

  ‘Morning! Feeling better?’ Patrick said. Was she imagining he looked antsy?

  ‘Much, thank you. What’s new here?’

  Anna lowered herself into a chair, perching on the edge of her bum cheeks.

  ‘Same old, same old.’

  The lack of any cups of tea and the silence that stretched between them said that this was no normal morning visit, no comfy chat. Patrick’s clock on the mantel ticked heavily.

  ‘So I’ve just had a strange phone call,’ Anna said.

  ‘Ah,’ Patrick said.

  There remained no doubt in Anna’s mind that Patrick was behind sending the file to Parlez. ‘Ah,’ did not denote curiosity. It signalled guilt.

  ‘Perhaps I should say here that I know your illness w
as psychological, not physical.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Michelle told me of the dreadful, dreadful things that man said to you. I was disgusted …’ Patrick shook his head and moved his pen on his pad two inches to the right, adjusting the papers underneath, so all the pages were in line.

  ‘Why? You spoke to Michelle?’

  ‘I said you’d told me about this James Fraser and she divulged his latest antics.’

  Anna guessed what must’ve happened. Michelle had said Patrick was pestering her for the reason for her absence. Michelle wasn’t careless but she was naturally honest, and no doubt Patrick had made it seem he knew all about James’s backstory. Still, Patrick had no right to pry.

  Anna felt the anger inching up her by steady degrees, like the volume lights on a stereo.

  ‘And I felt someone needed to act on your behalf. No one takes care of you … and you are simply too selfless to properly take care of yourself.’

  Anna merely widened her eyes at this description of herself. Patrick seemed shaky.

  ‘… I had evidence of how he’d spoken to you on tape and I sent it to the digital agency. Let his foul behaviour impact on him and not the innocent, for once.’

  Anna didn’t know what fit of madness had possessed Patrick but it seemed that even he now couldn’t quite believe what he’d done. Anna cleared her throat.

  ‘You sent a secret recording of a personal conversation, without my permission or knowledge, to a professional contact, humiliated him, implicated me and cost him his job?’

  Patrick’s eyebrows shot up. ‘He’s been sacked?’

  Anna’s temper broke.

  ‘Yes! Or, he might be! Patrick, how could you do this? Everyone thinks I sent it!’

  ‘I’m sorry. I was incensed and gripped by a need to bloody do something for once.’

  Patrick jutted his chin out and tried the Wikileaks freedom fighter pose on for size.

  ‘Couldn’t you have asked me?’

  ‘You’d have considered all the ramifications, been too fair minded, and let him off the hook.’

  ‘If the aim was striking a blow for me against James Fraser, it couldn’t have backfired harder. I’ve had to apologise to him and vacate the moral high ground with immediate effect.’

  ‘Why apologise?! He’s the shit. Forgive me if I’m not going to dwell too much on any difficulties that might befall a man who once publicly crucified you.’

  ‘Argh,’ Anna put her hands to her face. ‘But don’t you think if anyone was going to take him to task for that, it should be me?’

  ‘As I understand it, you did. He abused you so badly you spent a week unable to leave your house.’

  Anna’s breath came in quick bursts.

  ‘I know you think you were sticking up for me, but trust me, this was not the way. I never wanted to see him again, now I’m going to have to try and sort this mess out to make up for what you’ve done.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’

  ‘Who else is going to do it?’

  ‘I mean, are you sure you never want to see him again? It seems from the outside that this man went from public enemy number one to somebody you were pretty pleased to spend time around.’

  ‘I promise you, there is nothing remotely romantic going on with James.’

  ‘What was he doing at your flat?’

  Anna flapped her hands. ‘Watching a documentary about Theodora. It wasn’t … dear God, it wasn’t a booty call. Is that why you overreacted, you thought he’d humped me and dumped me?’

  ‘No. That’s not why I overreacted.’

  Patrick swallowed, shuffling papers on his desk again, and a long silence stretched between them.

  ‘I’m in love with you.’

  Anna almost gasped.

  ‘No, you aren’t,’ she blurted dumbly, in shock.

  ‘I believe I’m allowed to know best how I feel,’ Patrick said, smiling a sad smile, full of regretful ennui.

  Anna asked herself if she’d known this was coming. At some level she’d had an inkling he fancied her, of course she had. The look that lasted a little too long. The interest in her love life that had been a shade too eager. She blamed herself for not realising feelings might be building. But what could you say? Please don’t like me that way? Please don’t like me so much?

  Anna rubbed her clammy hands on her dress.

  ‘Er. I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘I’m not telling you because I expect my feelings to be reciprocated,’ Patrick said, adjusting his specs. ‘I know this is unrequited.’

  Anna was silent, completely poleaxed.

  ‘I just thought we were friends,’ she said.

  ‘We are,’ Patrick said. ‘My word, you really are entirely unaware of your effect on men, aren’t you? I remember Roger saying as much at the cheese and wine do where I first met you. I thought he must be joking, you’re so exceptionally lovely. But, no. Male students invent reasons to have private audiences with you, do you realise? I’m not saying your accounts of Theodora aren’t spellbinding, but I know their game.

  ‘This is why I couldn’t stand by and watch this man mistreat and manipulate you, Anna. I always knew sooner or later, some flash Harry would come along and exploit your goodness and innocence. I won’t have it.’

  ‘I’m very flattered but I promise you, you’ve got this one wrong. There was never any risk of James trying to seduce me. Or succeeding. It’s not like that.’

  ‘Well, if he wants to know why I sent that file, he can see me. Tell him I’m in my study and ready to chat.’

  ‘Patrick, no!’

  ‘Why are you protecting him?’

  ‘I’m not protecting him, I’m trying to make you see I don’t need this battle fought for me.’

  Anna had a funny echo of Laurence, of Patrick being the benign version of Laurence. She was a prize, she was on a pedestal. But she wanted to be equal.

  Still, unlike Laurence, she felt for Patrick.

  ‘I don’t want this to change anything between us,’ she said, carefully.

  ‘Sadly, I’m sure it won’t,’ Patrick smiled. Anna writhed and thought they’d best give each other a wide berth for a while. Enough to let the weirdness subside, but not so much that Patrick felt shunned.

  ‘Promise me,’ Patrick said, as she made to leave, ‘Promise me something. Not him. Anyone but him. He’s not worthy of you.’

  Anna sighed. ‘I can’t make you promises about who I’ll date. I can promise you it’s vanishingly unlikely.’

  ‘You won’t rule him out?’

  ‘Only on principle.’

  Patrick shook his head.

  ‘You’ve told me all I need to know.’

  First James’s colleagues, now her colleagues, convinced she and James were an item. Comically far from the truth. She’d rather felch Hitler’s corpse, and she betted he would too.

  Anna escaped Patrick’s office and bumped straight into a queue of first years waiting for a tutorial, who’d heard every word.

  When she made it back to her office, her mobile had a missed call from her mother. She’d leave it till the end of the day. She could absolutely do without discussing coconut frosting and jam jar table centrepieces right now. Anna tossed her mobile in a drawer, and turned to her email.

  She couldn’t do much to sort this out, but she could do something.

  55

  Fi walked into Parlez at near-midday, by which time James thought the acid in his stomach would be enough to dissolve a dead body. She chatted with a few members of staff under her breath, leafed through some mail and then said, ‘James, would you join me for a coffee?’

  He swung out of his chair, tense with self-consciousness. He’d rather have been fired by Skype and never had to face any of them again. This was gruelling, but then, it was meant to be.

  ‘Are we OK to duck into Carluccios? I’ve got to be across town by one,’ Fi said, as James nodded and held the door for her.

  He regretted choosing the sea
t adjacent to the wall, as a tilted mirror above reflected his embattled reflection. He didn’t have much pleasure in looking at himself, these days.

  ‘Catch you on the tenth then, Tigs. Bye bye bye …’ Fi spoke these last words in a stage whisper, like an Absolutely Fabulous character. She often said things no one in real life said.

  ‘… Hugs, best girl.’

  Like that.

  Fi pushed her diamanté-encrusted sunglasses into her salon-blonded hair, as a part-time hairband.

  ‘Now then. I am here to demand answers.’

  ‘Uhm, yeah. I know what I said was … extremely bad. There was context …’

  ‘I know the context.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Yes. I had a good long chat with your – ex? – girlfriend and she supplied it all. And I was even more appalled at your utter idiocy by the end of our chinwag, let me tell you.’

  Oh holy hell. Game, set and match to you, Anna. She wanted to call Fi to dig him into an even deeper hole?

  ‘My principal question is this. What on EARTH are you doing letting this delicious dusky maiden get away?’

  Fi play-slapped him and James stared dumbly.

  Wait? What?

  If this was a new, advanced brutality type of sacking, where you put someone at their ease and then went in for the kill, he’d never encountered it before.

  ‘Let’s get dull worky stuff out of the way first. The British Museum exhibition. We’ve had a hero-gram about the app from the museum, from a Victoria someone at UCL. Safe to say, Jez and I are delighted with how you handled it.’

  ‘Oh! Great.’ James needed to shift gears here without giving away the fact he had 100 per cent expected this to be a Welcome to Sackville, Population: You.

  ‘I don’t need to tell you that “digital twattery” isn’t exactly how we’d like you to go around describing your occupation. However, who hasn’t said something reckless to impress a new partner? When I first met Jez, I told him my favourite position was the pile driver! Hahaha! Have you ever tried it?’