Bad Friends. Claire Seeber

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СКАЧАТЬ she spat each syllable out like a small piece of dirt, ‘but I think we really need to know a little more about how tragedy affects the everyday life of our guests. How exactly do you drag yourself out of bed in the morning if you’ve lost the love of your life? Please give a huge round of applause to someone who can tell us – let’s welcome Lesley Quentin, widow of Stan, the brave driver who gave his life so heroically that night.’

      I didn’t think poor old Stan had had much of a chance to prove his heroism that night actually. Fay was staring at me with a beatific expression on her gorgeous little face. And it was starting to seriously unnerve me.

      In the final break they walked the face-transplant lady on, and the freak-show finally finished me off. Heart pounding, I gestured frantically at Charlie. He was busy eyeing up Transplant Lady’s glamorous sister on the sidelines.

      ‘I’m really not feeling that great,’ I muttered. ‘It’s all been a bit of a shock.’ I tried to sound reproachful, but he was impervious. ‘Do you still need me?’

      ‘For God’s sake, Maggie. There’s only another fifteen minutes to go. You need to pull the bloody stops out, okay? The reunion was fantastic, don’t let it go flat.’

      ‘Please, Charlie. I – I really do feel a little bit – queasy.’

      He frowned, stepped back quickly in his Gucci loafers, just in case… Then Fay beamed at him and I saw him drowning blissfully in her violet eyes. She wasn’t even his type.

      ‘Okay, Maggie. Go and take five in the green room.’ Baring his perfect teeth at Fay, he straightened his tie. ‘We’ll talk later.’

      I grabbed my crutches and hauled myself out of there before he could change his mind. Funnily enough, Renee didn’t bother with a goodbye.

      In the deserted green room I sloshed some more wine into a glass and downed it with a not-quite-steady hand. Then I poured myself a strong coffee and sat down to wait for Charlie. I wished I was anywhere but here. I thought desperately of Pendarlin, of the soft yellow light and the space and the clear, clean Cornish air. It calmed me a little.

      After interminable adverts about loo freshener and nappies, a multi-coloured Renee tripped girlishly through her titles and the show was back on air. She was at her best now with poor faceless Leonora. When Fay reached over and held the poor woman’s hand, the audience actually moaned with joy.

      ‘Abso-bloody-lutely sickening.’ I snapped the television off with the remote.

      ‘I have to say I agree, mate.’

      My coffee went hurtling across the horrible beige appliqué sofa.

      ‘Sorry.’ An East-End accent: the policeman. He was disentangling himself from the mike, fishing the lead out of his scruffy white shirt. ‘What a complete waste of time that was.’

      I delved around for a napkin. ‘Didn’t you get your chance to shine?’

      He grinned. ‘Got turfed off before I could make my mark. They ran out of time for me apparently. I’m relieved, to be honest.’

      ‘Oh?’ I made a pathetic attempt to wipe up the coffee with a soggy serviette.

      ‘Drummed in to do a bit of police PR, you know. Not really my cup of char. Give me a con over a celebrity any day. What shall I do with this, d’you think?’

      ‘Just shove it on the side.’ I gestured vaguely at the table of stale croissants.

      ‘You done this before then?’

      His direct gaze never left me.

      ‘I – I work for them, normally. When I’m not, you know –’ I tapped my leg again. ‘Not injured.’

      Did his grin fade just a little? ‘Oh right. I see.’

      I wasn’t sure I did. Since I’d been off sick I felt more out of place here than I ever had before.

      The policeman was switching his phone on, checking the time. ‘I’d better do one. Nice to meet you.’

      I smiled a half-hearted smile. ‘Likewise.’

      ‘Hope your foot’s better soon.’

      ‘Thanks. And you go get ’em, tiger,’ I said, a little groggily.

      This time he definitely did grin. Painkillers and booze were perhaps not the most sensible of partners, I reminded myself, as he dropped the mike onto a plate of egg and cress. And it was only as the door clattered behind him that I noticed the blond boy skulking in the shadows.

      ‘God! You frightened me,’ I said shakily as he stepped towards me, extending a long white hand from the sleeve of a tweed jacket. How long had he been there? My mind scrabbled like rodent claws on wood as I tried to remember what I’d just said. What I shouldn’t have said.

      ‘Sorry. I thought you’d seen me.’

      Tentatively I took the proffered hand. It was curiously limp, the rather dirty nails over-long.

      ‘Maggie Warren? Don’t you remember me? We met in the summer.’

       Chapter Three

      There were still quite a few things I didn’t remember about the summer, and more that I didn’t want to. It was a necessary blank that I’d apparently blocked as best I could.

      Last summer I had teetered on a precipice, following my wrung-out heart, and I almost didn’t make it back. It scared me now to be confronted with someone I had no memory of.

      I looked closer at him. He had a smooth, rather feminine face, a choirboy’s pallor, blond hair that fell over his eyes like a child’s, although he was dressed like he was fifty. He was swaying slightly. In fact, the whole room appeared to be swaying slightly. I really needed to go home now. I certainly didn’t need to be any more unsteady on my feet than I already was: I’d be rendered ‘Drunk in charge of a crutch’. I stifled a rather hysterical giggle. It was definitely time to leave.

      The boy looked a little nonplussed. ‘Don’t you remember me? Joseph Blake. I did some research for you in May. There was a couple of us. University placement.’

      ‘Oh God, yes, of course.’ I clapped a dramatic hand to my clammy brow. ‘How stupid of me.’ I had absolutely no memory of him whatsoever – and it frightened me. ‘Joseph – Joe, is it?’

      ‘No. Just Joseph.’ He was scowling now. ‘You don’t remember, do you?’

      ‘I do, Joseph, honestly. I’ve just had a bit of a morning of it. An early start, you know, and this –’ I wobbled my crutch around, ‘this doesn’t help my brainpower. How …’ I tried to focus on him properly, ‘how are you?’

      He relented, his smile lighting up his smooth round face. I relaxed a little.

      ‘I’m well, thanks. Oh, and thank you for the reference.’

      What was he on about now? ‘You’re СКАЧАТЬ