Chapter 20
20
‘I bought chicken yesterday that was labelled Space To Thrive,’ Aaron announced into thin air, the following Friday afternoon.
He could not encounter an extended silence without throwing a leading non sequitur into it, it seemed.
Bel had been trying to concentrate on a lead about the regeneration of Holt Town last week when Aaron had informed her: Strawberry Fanta is a devotional offering in Thai Buddhism, you know.
‘My drumsticks and thighs have had a better life than we’re having,’ Aaron continued, casting his eyes up at the stained ceiling. ‘Can any of us say we’re thriving, in our allotted space?’
‘But then again our captivity will hopefully not end up with us coated in Aaron Parry’s special spicy marinade,’ Bel said.
‘You’d be lucky, darling,’ Aaron said, and Bel caught Connor making a blurgh face. She wondered if his repulsion was at Aaron being lascivious, or lascivious towards her specifically, and felt quite sure it was both.
Connor’s girlfriend in his desk photograph was not merely attractive, as you’d expect, but a sort of luxury car advert, haughty beautiful. Bel could well imagine what he privately thought of the bad taste of slumming it undercover as Mr Bel. She had a sixth sense he’d reconcile his girlfriend to it by stressing Bel was a bag lady.
No point sweating about all that now, it was happening. They’d sat on her picnic blanket, Googled him and combed through all social media together, ascertaining Connor’s Instagram and Facebook accounts were locked down as private. The visible bios had no contradictory information and girlfriend-free profile pics. As a great piece of luck, an out-of-date LinkedIn had him still working in finance.
‘I’m not sure if we give them your real surname,’ Bel had said. ‘I’m in two minds, because if neither of us appear to exist online that’s unusual enough to be a flag. If you can be on there but say you never check your accounts and are forgetful in accepting new follow requests, that might work better.’
‘What’s your explanation for why you’ve got no presence?’ Connor had asked her. ‘It’s quite unlikely for a girl about town?’
‘I’m going to tell a lurid tale about a stalker ex in York provoking me to delete it all,’ Bel said. ‘Might pay ongoing dividends in getting out of being in photos, being tagged and so on. I already told Amber I was paranoid enough to turn NameDrop off, will keep that going. Plus nightmare exes are dynamite bonding material.’
Connor had nodded and she saw no hint he might’ve twigged it was her real biography.
Bel snapped back to the present and saw an Anthony The Stalker email arrive. Usually she swiped to mark it as opened and saved the bilious detail for later. This time, she could see the line in preview was designed to spike her blood pressure and make her respond.
Hello Isabel, thought you should know I’m in Manchester today for an interview. The Ed has asked me to stop by your office and introduce myself later, in the spirit of Fourth Estate cooperation & connection. I’m letting you know in advance, so you can’t claim I ambushed you. As usual, despite continually speaking into the yawning chasm of your petulant silence, I hope you are well. Ax
Her breathing became shallower. She knew Anthony had manipulated this: both the putative reason for the journey, and calling in. She could see him, faux-casual, loitering as he left the editor’s office: isn’t Isabel Macauley there now? Wonder how that outpost project is faring? Shall I put my head round the door?
She rationalised: he can only pull this once, maybe two times, maximum. You can’t Royal visit another newspaper’s office every few weeks, using an alibi.
Why had he warned her, and given her the chance of escape? She supposed because 1. He wanted her to panic and fret and fire off a heated reply telling him that he couldn’t, and 2. Had he surprised her, she might’ve exclaimed GET LOST! and as much as Anthony wanted to humiliate her, that might’ve humiliated him too. For all he knew she’d clued her colleagues in here– he’d know there was only a couple of them. Yep, this was why she’d got this feigned courtesy.
That Ant had to have war-gamed all this stuff out carefully was really quite frightening. It was a long way from normal. Had there always been a minority subculture of men like this that she was unaware of? Would he stop if she met someone else? Bel wondered at a world where you needed men to protect you against other men, patriarchy as Mafia racket.
Bel ground her teeth, palms sweaty. If she bolted home for the rest of the day, then she’d let him chase her out. Anthony would chalk that up as a qualified win and know he could simply try again. She felt sure he’d say so. Well, Isabel, what bad luck not to catch you, I’ll hope to be luckier next time … It was better if he tried this and encountered some form of resistance.
But how, without either facing him down herself– a major win for Anthony, it was what he was hoping for– or tipping her colleagues off that this man was someone from Her Past?
She messaged Shilpa her worries.
Shilpa
He’s issuing threats, isn’t he? I mean this is harassing you at your place of work? Can’t you tell your bosses you want him barred, like in a pub?
Bel
I know how he operates: he’ll have a real interview here, he will have suggested calling in to the editor. If I go nuts saying he’s stalking me, I will end up looking nuts. And have to tell everyone what happened with my married ultra-creep boss.
Shilpa
Is it not insane that he’s the married one and he’s got you acting like you don’t want this found out?
Bel
Honestly, it amazes me. I guess the thing is, if I made a formal complaint, it would be discovered by everyone we worked with in both cities, but not necessarily his wife. She never came to the office the whole time I was there, or any do. So 360 degree shame for me and probably nothing but a brag for him.
Shilpa
Ugh! I want him to get his arse served to him for this SO BADLY– who the fuck does he think he is?? OK, let’s lock in: what’s the goal, to stop him entering the office?
Bel
Ideally. Thought of getting in here makes me itch. All he’s doing is demonstrating I can’t have any space that’s safe from him.
She imagined his gloating, oily manner, the sense of danger, the skin crawl of him standing over her desk and Bel being forced to exchange pleasantries. Anthony doing whatever he could to hint at a special connection between them, while getting eyes on her co-workers for future email kompromat. Aaron twigging there was a story here, Connor’s silent disapproval.
Shilpa
If you’re using Aaron or Connor to get rid of him, tell them a lie about Anthony that motivates them to keep him out? You say journalists are always worried of getting scooped? Say he’s a rob dog?
Bel
That is GOOD. Thank you. X
Bel cleared her throat.
‘Erm, we’re going to get a caller downstairs in a bit, Ant from the Yorkshire Post . Says he’s coming here to “introduce himself”. Except I already know him. Can one of you two get it, and tell him that a major incident’s kicked off and we’re too busy? He’s a proper snake. Always pinching ideas and passing them off as his own. He even got a reporter sacked once for following his suggestions then denying it.’
Bel indicated the whiteboard on the wall, covered in scrawls about the current story leads (the ones that could be freely shared) and helpful hints from Aaron like: DI CARTWRIGHT: RINSES YOU FOR KFC BUCKETS, BUT WON’T TELL YOU SHIT, AVOID.
‘He’ll be slyly ripping things from that or snitching its gossip, too.’
‘What’s he even coming in here for?’ Aaron said.
‘Classic Anthony move. Friendly hello pretext cos he knows me from somewhere else. Like letting a vampire over the threshold.’
‘Aye, well they have to be invited, don’t they? And I’m not inviting him.’
Bel had an ignoble notion that it wouldn’t hurt to present it as a little white knight quest for Aaron.
‘Exactly. Please block that cock. If you’re able– he’s extremely persistent.’
‘No worries. Consider it done, princess.’
She sensed Connor’s eyes on her and avoided his gaze.
When the buzzer went two hours later, Bel felt legitimately sick. Anthony was one floor away, and she had only Aaron’s willingness to oblige Bel standing between her and an encounter with Anthony, with witnesses.
‘This’ll be that wrong ’un,’ Aaron said, ‘Allow me.’
Bel pretended to be absorbed in her laptop screen in the silence that followed.
‘Was any of that true?’ Connor said, eventually.
‘What?’ Bel said, startled.
‘Your description of this man to Aaron.’
‘Yes,’ said Bel, flushing with indignance. ‘I don’t make things up?’
A bit of a ripe claim in light of Operation Get Bailey.
‘It’s not like you to delegate a confrontation, that’s all.’
‘Meaning what, I’m an aggro fishwife?’ Bel said.
‘No,’ Connor paused. It occurred to Bel he could be more antagonistic now she was relying on his help. ‘Why do you twist everything I say into the worst possible interpretation?’
‘Well, what else did you mean?’
‘Exactly what I said: you fight your own fights. I generally say what I think, I don’t do snide double meanings.’
‘Nor do I.’
‘Wait,’ Connor said, in a lower register, ‘when you said there was someone back in York who made you—’
Footsteps thundered on the stairs and Aaron burst into the room. Bel felt twofold gratitude: firstly at Connor’s revelation being interrupted, and secondly at Aaron being alone.
‘Fuck me what a tedious muppet!’ he said, ‘You weren’t kidding. Just let me say hi to Isabel and I’ll be out of your hair … No mate. Not falling for it. Back to Button Moon in your bean can.’
Connor and Bel shared a look that said Connor knew he was right.
‘Superb work, Parry, well done,’ Bel said. ‘I owe you a pint.’
‘You’re on, let’s head down at half five,’ Aaron said, checking the wall clock. A pause. ‘Connor, want to join?’
‘Thanks, but my girlfriend’s visiting,’ Connor said, Bel felt sure, with relief.
‘Ah, that’s nice. What’s her name?’
‘Jennifer.’
‘Ah, the lady from your photograph.’ Aaron pointed with his pen. ‘Gonna show her the local sights?’
‘Yep, full tour of the Coronation Street set booked.’
‘Really?’ Aaron said.
‘No, not really,’ Connor replied, as Bel laughed.
Half an hour later, it was Pub o’ Clock.
‘Have fun with Jennifer! Have a good weekend,’ Aaron called, and Connor muttered thanks and you before departing, with barely a nod in Bel’s direction. She couldn’t fault her undercover boyfriend for maintaining the persona on this side of the bargain, that was for sure.
When the door downstairs slammed, Aaron said: ‘That fuckin’ guy is about as entertaining as the fireplace channel.’
‘Without the illusion of warmth.’
Bel saw she had another email from Anthony. This time it was one line and made her even more nauseous than before.
If you’re going to play games with me, Isabel, then expect me to play back.