Chapter 20
‘Look what I found.’ Flint was standing in the living room of Bee’s cottage, triumphantly holding aloft a small mobile phone.
Lol threw down her slice of pizza and grabbed it from his hands. ‘That’s Bee’s phone,’ she cried, ‘where did you find it?’
‘In the storage compartment under the seat of her bike.’
‘God – I can’t believe she’d just have left it there – she was addicted to this sodding thing.
’ She started tapping numbers into the phone until it beeped and lit up.
‘It’s still got some juice,’ she said, ‘let’s have a little look, shall we?
’ She sat back down and Ana slid across the sofa to peer over her shoulder.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m just checking through her directory, to see if there are any names I don’t recognize … Aha!’ she exclaimed. ‘Who’s ET? ET home? 0208 341 6565–isn’t that Highgate? It is, isn’t it? Did Bee know anyone in Highgate, Flint?’
Flint shrugged. ‘Not that I’m aware of.’
‘OK, what about ET work? 0207 786 2218 – that’s the West End, in’t it? Soho? Well – there’s only one way to find out who they belong to.’ She started tapping in some more numbers and then straightened her back and cleared her throat.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m phoning it, doofus-features, what’ you think I’m doing?’
‘Yeah – but what are you going to say, exactly?’
‘I dunno,’ she said, ‘I’ll wing it, I guess.’
‘OK,’ said Ana, wedging herself between the two of them before they started bickering again, ‘we should really decide which number to dial first and what we’re going to say.’
‘Right,’ agreed Lol, switching off the phone. ‘It’s a Sunday and the Soho number’s probably an office number, so let’s call the Highgate number. OK?’
Flint and Ana nodded.
‘And what are you going to say?’
Lol shrugged. ‘I dunno. What d’you think I should say, Ana?’
‘How about just being plain, you know? Just saying who you are and how you found the number and why you’re calling.’
‘Brilliant!’ she beamed, before handing it over to Ana. ‘You do it,’ she said, ‘people respond better to a posh accent.’
‘I’m not posh,’ exclaimed Ana.
‘No – but you know what I mean.’
Ana shrugged and took the phone. ‘OK,’ she said, before dialling the number. ‘It’s ringing.’
She took a deep breath while she waited for the phone to be picked up.
This could be it, she thought. Finally. After all this wild-goose chasing and all these dead-ends, at last they were going to talk to someone who might have some idea what exactly Bee had been up to for the last three years of her life.
A man picked up. ‘Hello.’
Ana widened her eyes at Flint and Lol to indicate that she’d got through.
‘Oh. Er. Hi,’ she began.
‘Hello.’
‘Hi. Erm. My name’s Ana Wills. I don’t know if you’ve heard of me.’
‘No,’ he said, bluntly.
‘Well, I’m the sister of – well, half-sister, to be accurate – of Bee? Bee Bearhorn?’
‘Oh.’
‘And, well, this is her mobile phone I’m calling from.’
‘Right. Good.’
There was something very disconcerting about this man’s manner. ‘Yes – and your number comes up as the last number to phone her on this, er, number.’ Ana took another deep breath before she ended up saying ‘number’ again.
‘OK.’
Jesus – this was possibly the most monosyllabic person Ana had ever encountered. ‘And that’s why we’re calling you. Just to … er … we wanted to … er … I mean, we wanted – who are you?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘No. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so blunt. I just meant, well – who are you in relation to Bee? Exactly?’
‘Well. Yes. I see. I could probably make it, yes.’
Ana scrunched up her face in confusion. What on earth was he talking about? ‘I know it sounds weird, but we really need to know who you are. I mean – obviously you might just be her plumber, or something. Are you?’
‘What?’
‘Nothing. Sorry. I just need to … who are you?’ she asked again in desperation, thinking what an awkward tool of communication the phone could be sometimes.
‘Yes,’ said the deadpan man, ‘tomorrow would be fine. How about midday?’
‘What?’
‘At my office. Yes. Do you have my office address?’
‘Er – no.’
‘52 Poland Street. Uh-huh. The bell says Tewkesbury. Ed Tewkesbury Productions.’
‘PEN!’ Ana mouthed urgently at Lol, who threw her one. ‘52 Poland Street?’ she repeated back to him.
‘That’s right.’
‘Ed Tewkesbury Productions?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Midday tomorrow?’
‘Yup.’
‘So you want to meet me, tomorrow, at midday, at your office?’
‘Yes, please. That would be great.’
‘And your name is?’
‘Ed Tewkesbury Productions. Yes. That’s right.’
‘So you’re Ed?’
‘That’s correct, yes.’
‘And how exactly did you know my sister?’
‘Great. That’s great, then. I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye.’
‘No – hold on – wait a minute!’ But he’d gone. Hung up.
‘Jesus,’ said Ana, switching off the phone and flopping backwards into the sofa. ‘That was officially the weirdest person I’ve ever had a conversation with.’
‘What’ he say? What’ he say?’ squealed Lol.
Ana shrugged. ‘Absolutely nothing. Just to meet him at his office tomorrow. At midday.’
‘And he didn’t say who he was?’
‘Ed Tewkesbury?’
Flint and Lol both looked at each other and then turned back to Ana and shook their heads. ‘Never heard of him,’ said Lol.
‘Me neither,’ said Flint.
‘Well,’ sighed Ana, ‘we will have by this time tomorrow.’