Chapter Six
It seemed like ages since Connor had had a Saturday night out.
He’d agreed to meet his friends in London, which meant catching the ten past six train from Haxford station, but now niggling doubts crept into his head.
Why were they keen to see him anyway? To offer him their fake sympathy while privately congratulating themselves that it wasn’t them caught in a tabloid feeding frenzy?
Well, at least he’d get to hear some of the gossip; he was fed up of being stuck here all day every day.
All he’d heard from Bonnie was a few abusive phone calls.
He wanted to know whether he was permanently exiled from The Grange and, if so, when he was going to get his money out from the production company.
And if his friends were prepared to buy him a few drinks to commiserate, all the better.
At least he’d be back with the old gang, and he’d learnt his lesson as far as photographers were concerned.
To avoid attracting any unwanted attention, Connor pulled a black hoodie over his dark green Lacoste shirt and before he left the flat, he tugged the hood as far down over his face as he could manage. On the train he kept his head down and checked his phone for directions.
In the good old days, evenings out with the production team were usually at a trendy restaurant, then a cool bar or club.
For last year’s Christmas bash, they had booked a table at Searcys at The Gherkin, and Bonnie had ordered so much champagne he’d wondered how they were going to get home again.
He hadn’t had to pay a penny towards it, and he had to admit she was generous with her cash to those who were in favour.
He wasn’t sure who had made the booking for this evening but it was unlikely to be quite so lavish.
However, for the return of the prodigal son, this would be as good a place as any, and when he got a bit nearer, he tugged off the rather old looking hoodie.
In lieu of a convenient rubbish bin, he donated it to the homeless guy sitting in a doorway at the end of the road.
The Fish and Dish was a fusion of microbrewery and seafood restaurant and fashion show, with the ambience of a rock concert. The delicious smell of food wafted over as he edged through the group mingling in the doorway, and as he spotted Ryan, he smiled confidently. Connor Forbes was back.
‘Hey, guys, how are you all?’
There was a round of handshakes, a few backslaps and some introductions to various people he hadn’t met before, including a rather opinionated man called Archie.
The man calling himself Troy appeared to be the organiser of the party and after they were seated, he held forth for ages about a programme he was commissioning.
It was something to do with garden makeovers and Connor was tempted to offer him his garden for their pilot programme.
He had a sudden image of Rosie looking thoroughly indignant as Troy and his team rocked up with a TV crew to take over the plot, and smiled inwardly.
‘So, what have you been up to since you went into hiding? Long time no see.’
Connor raised his glass to his old friend Barnaby, known to his friends as Bear. ‘Of course I wasn’t in hiding, just busy with this and that,’ he replied nonchalantly. ‘What about you?’
‘Oh no, you don’t get off that easily,’ shouted a brunette who was wearing a ruby engagement ring the size of a large pebble and whose name he had already forgotten. ‘We want all the gossip! Where’ve you been? Did Bonnie castrate you with the garlic press like she threatened to?’
Troy laughed and Connor felt his neck flush.
‘Has anyone seen anything of Stefania since…you-know-what?’ asked Bear.
‘I heard she’s been headhunted by a PR firm,’ said a dark-haired man wearing a red bowtie.
‘Never mind head hunting, Bonnie will be doing a bit of scalp hunting if she ever claps eyes on her again,’ added someone else.
There was a round of good-natured laughing and Connor made a point of joining in, just to show they were all pals and no offence taken.
After the waitress had arrived to take their orders, the conversation turned to winter holidays. Bowtie Man announced he was going on a three-week trip to South America, which included a visit to Easter Island. Connor felt a stab of envy.
‘So, what are your plans, Ryan? Last year you said you wanted to return to Italy to do that Umbrian wine-tasting tour we both had our eye on. I’m still up for it if you are?’
‘Sorry, mate, my holiday arrangements are already made. I’m going a bit further afield; although there will still be plenty of wine and sunshine,’ he added with a grin.
‘Dubrovnik?’
Ryan laughed. ‘Much further! Sarah and I are off to Oz.’
‘Who’s Sarah?’
Judging by the sudden lull in the conversation, Connor clearly wasn’t the only one who was interested in an answer to that question.
‘My girlfriend,’ replied Ryan, looking rather bashful.
This announcement sparked an immediate and predictable flurry of comments from around the table.
‘Ooh, you’ve kept that quiet!’
‘Where did you two meet?’
‘Is this the new girlfriend du jour?’
Ryan prodded Bear with a breadstick. ‘No, it isn’t, you cheeky sod! We’ve been seeing each other for a few months now.’
Connor tried to hide his surprise. Ryan had always been one of the lads. A bit of a player, like himself. Of course he was happy for his friend, but at the same time, he wished his own life wasn’t going so obviously in the wrong direction.
‘And what about you, Connor? What plans have you got?’
Given that everyone already knew, or could guess at, his current pecuniary position, this innocuous sounding question was likely to result in a disappointing answer.
He was already fed up of feeling like a loser.
Connor briefly considered inventing something utterly ridiculous like trekking to the Arctic, but opted for a blander response.
‘I’m keeping my options open. I know Bonnie will forgive me eventually if I grovel enough.’ Even though he was one hundred per cent sure he was the wronged party, he was prepared to sacrifice his dignity and do a bit of polite pleading. ‘Anyhow, I know there’s talk of a new series.’
That was a total stab in the dark as he knew nothing of the sort, but there was an immediate reaction around the table to his off-the-cuff comment. Several people exchanged nervous glances and the attractive brunette busied herself with her empty champagne glass.
‘Come on, spill the beans,’ said Connor, emboldened by drink.
‘Look, it’s not all finalised yet,’ began Bear.
‘Don’t piss around, Bear, he has a right to know.’
‘A right to know what?’ asked Connor with a slightly sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
‘Bonnie is already pitching for a new series; apparently it’s going to be called Bonnie’s Brigade.’
‘Why wasn’t I told? I’m part of the team, aren’t I?’ He looked over to Ryan for confirmation, but it was Bear who supplied the answer.
‘It’s a solo gig, sorry. People don’t want fancy dress and poshed up cookery shows anymore. Apparently it’s all about equality and tightening your belt these days, and everyone has to go on some sort of journey.’ Bear made little speech marks with his fingers.
‘So, what’s the new show about?’
‘Bonnie’s taking a group of unemployed kids and teaching them to cook.’
‘But Jamie Oliver did that years ago!’
‘And now Bonnie’s doing her take on it, Grange-style. They’re making a pilot programme first, but they’re confident it will be taken up.’
‘But I’m an investor in Grange Productions. Why wasn’t I told?’ Connor was aware that he was sounding like a petulant child, but a sense of outrage had temporarily overpowered any other sensibilities.
An embarrassed silence was punctuated by a few sympathetic noises. There had always been professional rivalries between them, but surely someone could have told him? Or maybe they were all waiting until the official announcement to avoid any awkward conversations.
The arrival of food broke the silence and gave everyone something else to comment on. Connor had lost his appetite but ate the scallops anyway. They were overcooked and rubbery. He refilled his wine glass again and downed it more swiftly than was sensible.
No way was he going to show how hurt he was by the knowledge that Bonnie had deliberately gone ahead with a new show and roped in the old gang, all behind his back.
He walked home from the station under cover of darkness.
He was desperate to drop into bed and suspected he had just voluntarily booked himself a whopping hangover in the morning.
However, first thing tomorrow he was going to find out exactly what Bonnie was up to; last year she had made him a co-director of Grange Productions so she couldn’t change the rules without his agreement, could she?