Chapter 30
‘This isn’t working, is it,’ I say exasperatedly. Although we haven’t managed to have a teatime catch-up every day, we have managed to meet quite a few times over the last couple of weeks. On screen, Finn’s face is concerned.
‘If I’m going to be brutally honest with you, I don’t think it is. Sorry. It seemed like such a good idea to begin with.’
I sigh. ‘So what now? Chuck it all in the bin? It feels like a waste, having come so far.’
‘Can I make a suggestion?’
‘Yes, anything.’
‘You could limp on, trying to make this work, but I can sense your heart isn’t in it. I get that you’ve invested a lot, but deep down you know this isn’t going to make you happy. So yes, painful as it is, I’d scrap Claire attempting to murder the neighbour and focus on the PAYE evidence.’
‘There isn’t any. HMRC only keep five years.’
He smiles. ‘Actually, I did some research on that for you. They do have older records, but the process of obtaining them is much slower.’
‘Really?’
‘Yup. So maybe the neighbour caves under the pressure of a formal police interview and says she can’t be 100 per cent sure that Claire is the girlfriend, even if she did look familiar. But then the DC – what’s her name?’
‘DC Carpenter.’
‘Yes, her. She’s been tenacious and got the PAYE records linking Claire to the pub.’
‘That only links her to the Pig and Whistle though, not the murder scene.’
Finn laughs. ‘Am I writing this book, or are you? The point is that the timeline matches and it corroborates the neighbour’s evidence.’
I think for a moment. ‘I still think we’d need something more, but the PAYE records could unlock that too.’
‘Go on.’
‘They wouldn’t just link Claire to the pub, they’d provide a record of everyone else working there at the same time.’
‘Pauline?’
‘Bingo. Pauline would definitely recognise Claire, even twenty years on. She confirms that she was living with Darren and that’s the missing link. Have I ever told you that you’re a genius?’
Finn’s smile widens. ‘You may have said it once or twice. Before we wrap up, are you still on for tomorrow?’
‘Absolutely. Wild horses wouldn’t keep me away.’
‘OK. I’ll send you all the details. I’ll already be in the studio when you arrive, but the security people know they’re expecting you and will have a pass waiting for you. They’ll also call me to come and get you.’
‘I can’t wait.’
‘I just hope you aren’t bored rigid.’
‘I think that’s extremely unlikely.’
I’m awake long before the alarm goes off at six thirty the next morning and I’m relieved to see, on peering out of the curtains, that the weather has decided to be kind even though we’re heading into autumn.
I’ve given myself plenty of time to make sure I’m looking my best for today, but I have the kind of hair that frizzes into an unmanageable mess at the first sight of a raincloud, so the clear blue sky is welcome.
Liv and Donna are already fully dressed and sipping on cups of tea when I pad into the kitchen.
This isn’t a surprise; Liv has always been an early riser and generally gets to Maison Olivia shortly after seven, even though they don’t open until nine, and Donna has to do what she calls ‘the school run’, collecting dogs from the houses of those owners who’ve paid for the privilege.
‘All set for your big day?’ Liv asks. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Nervous, but in a good way this time.’
‘Explain.’
‘So, when we went to The Mermaid, I was nervous because I didn’t know if we’d have anything to talk about, or if the friendship we’d cultivated in France would translate back to the UK.’
‘You were anxious.’
‘Yes. Whereas now I’m nervous because I’m seeing Finn face to face, but also looking forward to it. I’m not worried because I know I’m going to have a good day.’
‘You’re excited.’
‘Exactly.’
‘You’ll have a blast,’ Donna assures me. ‘These places are amazing. Did I ever tell either of you about the time I was on Blankety-Blank?’
‘No,’ Liv tells her. ‘And it’ll have to wait, sorry. Laura’s got to get going.’ She turns to me. ‘Are we expecting you back for dinner?’
The question catches me completely by surprise. Finn hasn’t mentioned anything about dinner, but then again he hasn’t given any indication that the visit today is time limited.
‘I don’t know,’ I reply. ‘Can I text you?’
‘Of course. If I don’t hear, I’ll assume it’s good news and you’re not coming home.’
‘That’s a terrible idea,’ Donna counters. ‘If you don’t hear anything, it might be because Finn’s taken inspiration from one of her books, chopped her up and left her in a ditch.’
Liv grins. ‘I may only have met him for a couple of minutes, but I think that’s extremely unlikely. She’d be more likely to look the wrong way crossing the road and be mown down by a bus. Country mouse up in the big smoke and all that.’
‘One,’ I interject crossly, ‘I’m perfectly capable of crossing the road, thank you. And two…’
‘Yes?’ Liv asks when I dry up.
‘Actually, you might have a point there. I’m not exactly a country mouse but I’m certainly no city slicker. Shit, do you think everyone’s going to be looking at my outfit and judging me?’
‘No, and this is anxious Laura talking. I can guarantee you that nobody in London is even going to look at you, let alone give you enough mental processing to judge you. They’re all far too wrapped up in their own lives.’ She shudders. ‘I hate London, now I come to think about it.’
‘I’ve never heard such bollocks!’ Donna exclaims. ‘Honestly, Laura, you should have seen her when we were in Chinatown. She was like a pig in clover, snuffling out the best restaurants like truffles.’
‘Can you hear that?’ Liv asks her.
‘What?’
‘That sound. You need to listen carefully, but I’m pretty sure I know what it is. It’s the sound of similes screaming in pain.’
‘Oh, do shut up. I thought you were being serious there for a minute.’
Normally, I’d sit at the kitchen table and enjoy their good-natured banter, but Liv is right. I need to get going.
‘I’ll see you guys later. Thanks for taking Meg in today, Donna.’
‘It’s nothing,’ she replies. ‘Actually, scratch that. It’s not nothing. You’d normally be paying handsomely for the privilege, so make sure it’s worth my while, OK?’
I’ve been over this journey so many times using the planners that I think I could do it from memory, but I still consult my phone several times to double check I’m going the right way.
I may not be a country mouse, exactly, but it’s a long time since I’ve been to London and even longer since I’ve had to navigate around the place on my own.
I’ve decided to treat myself and go on the high-speed train to St Pancras, which gives me a fairly straightforward two-Tube trip to White City.
According to the map on my phone, the studio is just across the road from the station, so it shouldn’t be that hard to find.
While I may be prepared in terms of the route, I’d forgotten how hot, stuffy and crammed the London Underground system is.
By the time I step out into the fresh air at White City, my shirt is clinging to my back, my face feels uncomfortably flushed and I’m sure the combination of heat and humidity has undone all my careful work on my hair this morning.
Despite Liv’s predictions of doom, I make it across the road unscathed and even get through the ridiculous automated revolving door without trapping any limbs or my bag in it.
You know those alternate reality scenes in films, where a character steps through some kind of portal into a totally different world?
That’s what the studio lobby feels like.
Outside, it’s all heat, bustle and noise.
I can see it through the large windows. It takes me a moment to figure out what the lobby reminds me of before it comes to me.
It’s cool and quiet as a tomb, only one with lots of space, gleaming floors and really nice chandeliers.
I mean, it’s not totally silent; I can hear a phone ringing on the reception counter, but it’s so muted as to be barely audible.
Even the people are silent. There’s a faint clack-clack of heels on the floor as a woman crosses to the security gates, and a man is standing in the corner, having a whispered conversation on his mobile phone, but they’re both kind of swallowed by the overall silence.
For a moment, the rebellious streak in me fills me with the urge to shout, ‘Good morning, everyone!’ at the top of my lungs, just to prove to myself that I’m still alive.
Instead, I make my way over to the reception desk, where a blonde woman who doesn’t look old enough to have left school regards me with interest.
‘Hi,’ I say quietly. ‘I’m Laura Spalding, here to see Finn Robertson.’
‘Oh, yes,’ she replies. ‘We’re expecting you. I’ll give him a call and let him know you’re here. There are a couple of security things I need to do, but if I time it right, we’ll get those finished just as he arrives.’ She picks up the phone on the desk and presses a couple of buttons.
‘Can you tell Mr Robertson that his VIP guest has arrived?’ she says. ‘Thank you.’
‘VIP?’ I ask.
‘Oh, yes. He was very clear that we were to extend you every courtesy. Now, can you just look into the camera there for me for a second? Perfect.’
After a few keystrokes, the printer next to her quietly comes to life and spews out a card with my picture and a QR code on it. She folds it expertly and slots it into a plastic wallet attached to a gold lanyard with ‘VIP’ embroidered on it at regular intervals.
‘This will get you through security,’ she explains. ‘All you have to do is scan the QR code. When it comes to the lifts, you’ll need to scan it on the reader first. It will then allocate you a lift that’s going to the floors you’re authorised to visit. Any questions?’
‘Umm, no.’ To be honest, I didn’t understand a word of what she’s just said about the lifts, but hopefully Finn will be able to explain it better.
All I need now is for him to arrive.