An Almost Perfect Moon. Jamie Holland

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       CHAPTER THREE Flin receives a shock

      When Harry asked Tiffany about Flin’s great plans to move out, she admitted they had come to very little.

      Harry laughed. ‘I had a feeling they wouldn’t.’

      ‘I’ve worked out a very simple way of dealing with Flin’s sudden impulses and new crazes,’ Tiffany told him. ‘I go along with it initially, then throw in a word of caution and wait for his enthusiasm to trail off.’

      ‘And that always works?’

      ‘So far,’ she grinned.

      Flin returned with more drinks. ‘What are you lot laughing about?’ he asked suspiciously.

      ‘Nothing,’ said Harry. ‘So when are you moving out to the country then?’ Sniggers from around the table.

      ‘You may laugh,’ Flin told them, ‘but it will happen.’

      ‘You’ve only mentioned it twice this week though, honey. That’s an eighty per cent drop on last week. And that was a fifty per cent drop on the week before,’ said Tiffany. The others laughed outright.

      ‘The Flin enthusiasm barometer is definitely dropping,’ added Harry.

      Flin looked sheepish. Perhaps the sense of urgency had waned somewhat, but, as he pointed out to them, the idea had far from gone away. He did still think about all the wonderful things they would do once they moved to the country; and he did still gaze wistfully at passing Land-Rovers. He’d even reread all his H. E. Bates novels and bought Country Living.

      ‘But you haven’t actually done anything about it though, have you, baby?’ said Tiffany. Well, no, that was true. But he would, and soon.

      Privately though, Flin found there always seemed to be something holding him back. It was a very busy time of year at work. There were big films coming out, with PR he was already committed to. Furthermore, his assistant had left too, and he considered it a bit churlish to leave before he’d found a new person and helped him or her settle in. Then there were the big summer blockbusters to prepare for, as well as all the normal day-to-day work to be done. And anyway, moving out wasn’t something they needed to rush. Waiting a few months for everything to quieten down at work wouldn’t make any difference in the long run.

      Then one evening something happened to Flin which was to change this attitude irrevocably.

      The day started brightly, with clear early April skies and the promise of warm, mild weather to come, and Flin set off for work feeling cheerful and fairly content with his life. There was nothing especially exciting happening that day, although he’d arranged to meet Ben for lunch and was going to a screening of a new film in the evening. It meant he would be home late, but that didn’t bother him; it was a film he wanted to see and an aspect of his work he’d always enjoyed.

      In fact, lunch with Ben took nearly an hour and a half out of his day, but he returned to the office thinking more positively about his job than he had in ages. Really, he thought, when he thought about Ben, he was very lucky. There was no one watching his every move. The working hours could be very intense and busy at times, but on the whole were fairly relaxed – compared to Ben’s at any rate; he met interesting people, even if egos sometimes got in the way, and he could wear whatever he liked. And he was paid to watch films he would have paid to go and see anyway.

      That afternoon he managed to secure a weekend magazine front cover for one of the films he was working on, spoke to Tiffany four times and made plans to visit Geordie in Wiltshire the following weekend. The film in the evening was even better than he’d hoped and, after loitering at the end for a few drinks with some journalists, he set off for home feeling even more cheerful and sanguine than he had that morning.

      He jumped on a bus at Piccadilly. Usually he cycled to work. He enjoyed cycling, although there was a more practical advantage to it too: it was the only way he felt he could get around London without being constantly late; but if he was going to be late getting home, or if the weather looked ominous, he was perfectly happy to allow a bit more time and take the bus. That way he avoided the Underground and could still see the streets of London as he travelled to work. Furthermore, the bus he took was one of the old-fashioned variety: an open step-on at the back, and seats facing each other towards the rear. This was important to Flin. He was tall and it meant he could sit there without feeling cramped, and see the faces of the people opposite, which he liked.

      By the time he reached Olympia, the weather had changed dramatically. Rain poured down, and he wasn’t wearing a coat. Cursing, he shoved his hands into his pockets, hunched up his shoulders and set off. The road between the exhibition halls and the railway was always well lit, but behind it, the way suddenly darkened. This had never bothered Flin. Ever since he’d moved to London, no one had so much as shouted at him. He’d never seen a mugging, a fight, or even a traffic accident. Nor had he ever been burgled. If that was just good luck on his part, he’d never bothered to think about it. Instead, a confidence in his own security steadily grew, so that he thought nothing of walking down dark ill-lit streets late at night or chaining his bicycle with nothing but a cursory shackle between frame and railing.

      He’d seen the four youths sheltering under a delivery bay to the rear of the halls, but had barely given them a thought. Had he been more alert to the possible dangers, he might have thought it odd that four people should be hanging about in such a place at such an hour on such a night, and briskly walked to the other side of the road. Or even run. But he didn’t. It wasn’t until he’d already passed them that he realized one of them had given a nod СКАЧАТЬ