Chapter 15
SCARLETT
As arranged, George meets me on the first carriage of the train at London Bridge. He dumps a rucksack on the rail above where I’m sitting and takes the seat beside me. The summer heat hasn’t let up, and he smells slightly of stale sweat.
A ball of unease is lodged in my throat.
Mum wanted us to spend my last day in Cambridge together.
I had to lie. I’m visiting an old uni friend in Brighton, I told her, because she couldn’t cope with the truth.
She once told me it’s OK to tell a white lie if it’s going to protect a person you love. I never agreed, until now.
‘So what’s the plan?’ I ask.
George shows me a picture of Daisy on his phone.
It was taken at Christmas in the snow. She’s laughing, pretending to lob a snowball at the camera.
Daisy at her best. ‘I thought I’d show this photo around,’ he says.
‘See if people recognise her from the June convention. But I’m not sure how big these conventions are.
Looks like they’re well attended, but how many people follow this guy around, I’m not quite sure. ’
I show him the photo of Daisy in the MOM baseball cap on my phone. ‘This might be a better one to use,’ I say. ‘Why don’t we split up? We can cover more ground.’
‘Yeah. Sounds like a plan, but I don’t think we should say she died, rather, she disappeared after the last festival and we’re trying to track her last known movements, because the police aren’t interested.’
More lies. ‘Why not tell the truth?’
‘Because if we mention she supposedly died of a drug overdose, we might not get as much sympathy. The founder of A Meeting of Minds, Marcus Aurelius, is speaking at 3 p.m. I’d quite like to see him, but I’ll need to leave by then.
’ He’s not travelling back with me as he’s going to a friend’s twenty-first birthday.
‘I’d like to see this guy, too. I’ve been listening to his podcasts. He’s pretty inspirational. I’ll feed back if I find anything out.’
‘You know what I said to you in Daisy’s flat. About her trying to live up to you. That came out all wrong. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, and I’m sorry.’
‘It’s fine. Brutal, but if that’s the way she felt, then that’s the way it is.’
‘Daisy was incredibly proud of you. She didn’t stop talking about you. Your work. Running your own business. All the triathlon stuff.’
‘You don’t need to say all this.’
‘You’re right. I don’t. But it’s true.’
I deflect the conversation before the tears that are threatening to fall get the better of me. We make small talk, chatting about Daisy, and his aspirations to become a lawyer like her.
‘You should’ve heard our late-night conversations.’ He smiles. ‘You would’ve only lasted a few minutes before falling asleep.’
‘I guess you must have so much information to absorb.’
‘Yeah. You kind of need to be a bit of a sponge.’ He looks out of the window of the moving train. ‘It’s all fallen by the wayside in recent weeks.’
‘You can’t let your work slip.’ My voice breaks. ‘Daisy wouldn’t have wanted that.’
‘Yeah. I know. Anyhow, I’m using my skills to dig deep into this lot.’ He points to the leaflet I have on the table in front of me. ‘I’m building quite a dossier.’
I study his face. I haven’t really noticed it before, but he’s an old head on young shoulders.
‘Tell me about your business,’ he says.
‘I mainly devise workout programmes for clients. Give personal training sessions. Nutrition advice. That kind of thing.’
‘Sounds fun. So, a bit like these dudes.’ He taps the leaflet again. ‘You help people get their lives back on track.’
‘That’s one way of putting it. I’m also a qualified Pilates teacher. Three evenings a week, I run online group sessions. Fifty to sixty people regularly attend, sometimes as many as one hundred.’
‘Daisy told me how much you charge these clients. One hundred pounds an hour for someone to put you through hell.’
‘I know. Can you imagine having the kind of money where you can pay a person that amount to keep you fit?’
‘Good on you. You’re obviously good at what you do.’
‘I like to think I am.’ I’m dedicated to all my clients and spend hours devising their training and nutrition plans. ‘I sometimes feel I’m taking money under false pretences, but I do work bloody hard.’
‘Talking of false pretences. How much did the ticket to this convention cost!’ One final tap of the leaflet. ‘That’s not including all the merch, and the private sessions. Let me tell you, these dudes are doing pretty flipping well. It’s a money-making machine.’