Guilty Feet (6 page)

I’m
just
your
average
CD
-
buying
customer
who
knows
what
she
likes
and
what
she
likes
keeps
changing
.
The
music
magazines
aren’t
mine
,
I’m
afraid
.
They
belong
to
my
flatmate
—

I planned to keep my ‘flatmate’ fairly anonymous. It could get just too complicated if I had to make up too many new identities—

I
just
happen
to
pick
them
up
occasionally
.

I was aware that this was a risky admission. That I might lose his interest with comments like that, but on balance it seemed the less dangerous route.

Looks
like
your
mother’s
music
had
an
effect
on
you
whether
you
like
it
or
not
.

He’d never mentioned that he remembered a line from ‘Careless Whisper’ to me, and it seemed odd to have learned something new about Dan through a stranger—a stranger to him, anyway. But then that wasn’t all I’d learnt about Dan today, I thought, fuming again at his possible deceit.

And finally my trump card. Something to connect Dan with Sarah and make certain that he replied again.

And
,
talking
of
lines
from
songs
...

I quoted a lyric and cheekily asked if he had any idea where it came from.

Of course he’d know where it came from. He absolutely loved Coldplay—had been one of the first music writers to draw the public to their attention.

I sent the e-mail gleefully, and then wondered about spending the rest of my hour searching for jobs. However, because I am all too easily distracted from anything that seems remotely chore-like, I happened to glance at my elderly neighbour and saw that she was still laboriously copying stuff down from the screen. Because I didn’t feel quite so new anymore, I opened my mouth to explain about the printer when my attention was further drawn to something beyond her grey head.

Between my neighbour and the stairs that led up to the reference part of the library was a glass partition, and through the partition I could clearly see Dan, hurrying up the stairs. My heart did one of those flip things and I automatically ducked behind the old lady, pretending to get something out of my bag.

When I finally glanced up again the staircase was empty, but my heart was still in top gear and racing and I knew I would have to leave the old lady to her long-winded ways. I had to get out of the place, and I had to get out of there fast.

***

Libby hauled the cardboard box full of vinyl out of her wardrobe and carried it into the living room, ready for Dan to inspect at the weekend.

From the moment she’d learnt what he did for a living she’d felt a connection to him through the collection. It had felt like a sign, and despite the fact that he lived with Joanna she’d sensed it was only a matter of time. She’d heard their arguments and guessed—rightly, as it duly turned out—that their relationship was very much on the rocks.

She was trying to decide if she should call on him now or whether it might be better to leave it tonight. She was certain she was making good progress. Six weeks ago she had hardly spoken to him, and now they were sharing food and wine in his flat. Even so, he was proving to be harder work than she’d expected, which was why she had invented a new boyfriend for Jo. It was obvious Dan wasn’t completely over her yet, but if he believed that she had moved on then Libby very much hoped he would feel able to as well.

She made a sudden decision and switched on the TV. It would not do, she considered, to come on too strong at this stage. Dan needed time for the knowledge that Jo was now out of reach to sink in before making her next move. She mustn’t wait
too
long, of course. Not with Aisling hanging around. But since she was away at the moment Libby felt she could well afford to hold on for another day.

She’d just flopped into her armchair when the telephone rang and she reached to answer it. She allowed herself to hope it was Dan and turned the sound of the TV down with the remote control. He was one of the few people she’d given her number to, just in case he needed her to get something for him while he was busy writing his book. She’d had to be careful about making friends since arriving in Leeds. Apart from Dan, the only other people who had her number were her office (and they hardly ever rang her at home), and... And then she sighed. And Joanna—

Damn.

‘Hello? Libby?’

Despite her disappointment she had a role to play, so she arranged her features into a smile.

‘Joanna!’ she said, sounding oh so pleased to hear from her. ‘How are things?’

Things must be bad if she was still bothering to ring, Libby thought. Joanna had never shown any interest in her while she was living with Dan. The only reason they were in touch now was because Jo wanted information. She was upset because Dan hadn’t bothered to call, stupid cow, and because Libby was afraid that she might contact him the lie about Aisling had just sort of slipped out.

‘Oh, you know, not bad,’ she said. There was a momentary pause. ‘Well, since you ask, that’s not entirely true. The company I worked for folded yesterday, so I’m sort of jobless at the moment.’

‘That’s awful,’ Libby managed. ‘But last time we spoke you did say things weren’t going too well.’

‘I know, and it’s not too bad I suppose because I’ve got a fill-in job with a friend at the Italian. It’s a pasta place in Carlton Lane—do you know it?’

Libby didn’t—not yet anyway.

‘Well, that’s good at least.’

‘How about you?’ Jo asked her then.

‘Things aren’t going too well where I work at the moment either.’ She didn’t usually talk about herself, but tonight she was in the mood for a moan.

‘I’m sorry,’ Jo said, sounding surprised. ‘I didn’t realise. Where is it you work anyway?’

They’d been talking on the phone for nearly two months and she’d never bothered to ask before.

‘Bennett Associates,’ Libby said, trying not to sound resentful. ‘You know—the tech recruitment firm that Pisus used occasionally.’

‘Is that the same recruitment firm where Nicola Dick is a partner?’

‘As a matter of fact I’ve just moved into her department. Is she a friend of yours?’ Libby added guardedly.

‘Not exactly,’ Joanna said. ‘Just someone I knew at school. I never really liked her much, if I’m honest.’

‘That’s OK, then, because I can’t stand her myself.’

‘I heard she’d gone all religious lately,’ Joanna said.

‘She’s wearing a crucifix, if that’s what you mean, but the word is she’s only doing it because her fiancé’s parents are very devout. I don’t believe she’s serious about it for a moment.’

‘That explains a lot,’ Joanna said with a hint of a chuckle in her voice.

Then she finally got round to the real reason for her call.

‘How’s Dan?’ she asked, trying her best to sound casual.

‘Fine, I think. Working hard on his book, you know.’

‘And, er, Aisling? Are they still together?’

‘Fraid so,’ she said with a sigh, as she twisted the cord of the phone round her fingers.

‘Are you sure, Libby? It’s just that I saw Dan today and he looked a bit, well—sorry for himself, I suppose.’

‘That’s just wishful thinking,’ Libby answered quickly. Then a worrying thought struck her. ‘You didn’t speak to him, did you?’

‘No. I just got a glimpse of him in the library.’

Libby was greatly relieved. It certainly wouldn’t do for the two of them to accidentally meet. She wouldn’t want either of them finding out about the little fairy tale she had been spinning. She softened her tone and decided to take the tale up a gear.

‘I didn’t really want to tell you this,’ she said gently, ‘but I think Dan’s taking her to meet his mother at the weekend.’ There was a groan at the other end of the line.

‘So it really is serious, then?’

‘Looks like it.’

‘Do you think he fancied her before I left?’ she eventually said, as if hardly daring to ask it. ‘He made out he didn’t, but I’m beginning to think he might have been lying.’

Libby enjoyed the enormous sense of power she felt at that moment. It was tempting to tell her what she did not want to hear, but she could afford to be generous under the circumstances.

‘No,’ Libby said firmly. ‘I’m pretty sure that he didn’t. But you know what Aisling is like, how pushy she is. I think he only caved in after considerable pressure.’

‘Well, that’s something, I suppose.’ Joanna said with a very relieved sigh indeed. ‘And thanks for everything, Libby. You’re a real friend.’

And Libby, who didn’t often hear those words, managed to hold back a satisfied smirk until she replaced the receiver.

Chapter Five

‘What on earth are you doing here?’ I grunted as I opened the front door to my mother. I’d had a terrible night, hardly slept at all, and I really could have done without her showing up at the flat at eleven-fifteen and finding me still in my nightwear.

‘What a lovely welcome from my only daughter,’ she said as she
almost
brushed my cheek with her brightly painted lips on her way past me to the kitchen. She was hauling a large leather shoulder bag onto the narrow work counter when I followed her in.

‘Lemon and ginger OK for you?’ she asked as she started filling the kettle. She was referring to the one of the variously flavoured teas that she carried around with her everywhere, and when she’d plugged in the kettle she took a small box of the stuff out of her bag.

‘I’d rather have coffee,’ I said, already resigned to the fact that any plans I might have had for the day were about to change. Not that I had any actual plans, but that wasn’t the point. It was her taking the matter for granted which bugged me. Then something occurred to me.

‘How come you knew that I wouldn’t be working?’

She got two mugs out of the cupboard, checked to see that they were up to her standard of cleanliness, crinkled her nose uncertainly, shrugged, and then turned round to face me.

‘I had a call from Barbara last night. Nicola told her what had happened at Pisus.’

‘How the hell does she know?’ I said, rattled.

‘There’s no need to be like that,’ my mother said calmly as she popped a teabag into one of the mugs. ‘She seemed most concerned about you. And it’s her business to know about that sort of thing. She used to supply some of the staff, don’t forget.’ She opened another cupboard and took out a jar of coffee.

I stared at her back as she busied herself in my kitchen and wondered if she really believed that Nicola was concerned about me or whether it was all part of the elaborate game she’d been playing with Barbara Dick for years. It was obvious to me that she disliked the woman as much as I disliked Nic, so why did she always try to make out that they were such lovely, caring people?

She turned back to me, gave my pyjama bottoms and crumpled T-shirt a critical once-over, and rolled her eyes when they came to rest on the orange rat’s maze on top of my head.

‘I have no idea where that hair of yours came from,’ she said unhappily. ‘I can’t even blame it on your father.’

I let it pass. She was always going on about my hair, suggesting that I had it cut, straightened, dyed... I was used to it. I was more interested in finding out what this visit was all about. I sensed that the big leather bag might be involved, and cast a curious eye over it.

‘What’s that for?’ I said.

‘Ah,’ she said mysteriously, ‘so you’ve noticed.’

‘I could hardly fail to.’

‘Family history,’ she said in a tone that usually accompanied a nod and a wink.

Just then the kettle clicked off and she poured water into my instant coffee.

Now, go and get showered and changed and I’ll tell you all about it when you’re ready. Oh, and put something smart on, darling. I’ve booked an appointment for us at the records office, but I thought we’d go somewhere nice for an early lunch on the way.’

‘The records office?’

‘Yes, darling,’ she said with a patient sigh. ‘The place where they keep all the old records of births and so forth.’

‘I know what it is,’ I said huffily. ‘I was just thinking that there might be better ways of spending the day.’

‘Nonsense,’ she said dismissively. ‘Now, off you go, and don’t forget to do something with that hair.’

I took my time, spending ages trying to straighten my hair. And because she would only get annoyed if I ignored her instructions about what to wear, I put on one of my expensive suits—navy blue with a fine pinstripe. Last time we’d been together it had ended in a big row, and as she was clearly making an effort it seemed only fair that I should too. I went to town with my make-up as well. I looked pale after my sleepless night, so I applied the blusher in bucket loads.

I knew I should have been pleased to learn that Aisling had had to work hard on Dan, but it was the idea of her meeting his mother that troubled me. It just made it all seem so final. And, yes, OK, so I’d been thinking about Marco as well, and that kiss, and that maybe I’d like a repeat performance, but it didn’t make me feel any less confused about Dan. It still felt like unfinished business.

‘At last!’ she said when I entered the sitting room to find her with a big blue folder opened up on her lap. She was wearing one of her Versace-style outfits, black with gold-coloured buttons. It looked exactly what it was—a cheap imitation—but nobody had the nerve to tell her that. It was all part of the new image she’d adopted a few months ago, after losing some weight at a slimming club and dyeing her hair a few shades lighter. I think she was aiming at an Ivana Trump look, but the outcome was more whorehouse madam.

‘You look nice, darling,’ she said, and I waited for the sting in the tail. ‘But why don’t you put on those lovely earrings I bought for your birthday?’

‘Because they make me look like a Christmas tree,’ I said, honest for once about her revolting present. I might have been making an effort to please, but I drew the line at being seen in Leeds with a pair of mini-chandeliers dangling from my lobes.

She shook her head, as if she despaired of my lack of good taste. She felt just the same way about my flat. She disapproved of the new minimalist approach I’d adopted since moving there, which was more about making some room in the place than any real statement in decor. She was a trinket sort of woman herself, with a particular penchant for porcelain figurines in period costume, and I think she pitied me for not sharing her sophistication. She patted the sofa next to her now. ‘Come and sit down,’ she said sympathetically.

I did as she told me and she stabbed a red fingernail at the open file.

‘I’ve joined the local Family History Society,’ she said importantly, ‘and these are the results of my research so far.’ She flicked through dozens of neat handwritten and photocopied pages of A4 paper and I’ll admit I was quite impressed. ‘You’ve never mentioned this before,’ I said.

‘I didn’t think you’d be interested, darling, and besides, I didn’t want to say anything until I found something worth mentioning.’

‘Where did you get all this stuff from anyway?’ I wanted to know.

‘Various libraries and records offices—oh, and of course the Internet. The Mormons are marvellous people, you know,’ I looked at her worriedly, thinking of Nicola Dick. ‘You’re not getting religious as well, are you?’

‘Don’t be silly, darling. They collect family history records and make them available to anyone who happens to be interested.’

‘And this is
your
family history, not Dad’s?’

‘Of course,’ she said tartly. ‘I knew your father’s parents, don’t forget. I can’t imagine there’d be anyone of any worth in
their
background. All thieves and vagabonds, I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘That’s not very nice,’ I said defensively. Both my dad’s parents had died before I was born, but he spoke of them kindly and they looked fairly normal to me in the photos I’d seen. And Dad and his brother—Uncle Bob, a ticket clerk on York’s railway station—seemed far too ordinary to have vagabond genes.

‘Well, maybe not thieves,’ she conceded, ‘but certainly peasant stock through and through.’

‘But the Thompsons are something special,’ I said with my tongue in my cheek. ‘Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Precisely. And don’t worry, darling. Don’t forget that you’re half Thompson too.’

I wasn’t sure that I should be so grateful for possessing genes that might have helped turn my mother into such a snob, but I’ll admit I was still vaguely curious.

‘So what’s this thing that’s worth mentioning now?’ I asked.

‘I’ll tell you all about it later,’ she said as she closed the folder.

‘There’s still some checking to do before we can be certain, which is why I’ve made the appointment for us.’ And then, as if she was bestowing on me the greatest possible favour, ‘I want
you
to help me unearth the missing piece to the puzzle.’

***

Dan had made it a rule not to answer the phone when he was working to a deadline, but when it rang and rang for ages, stopped and rang for ages again, he began to wonder if it might be urgent.

He’d been keeping his head down for the last day or so, fearing another knock at his door, another unwanted interruption. He’d been wondering if there was a polite way of asking Libby to stay away, but he hadn’t come up with anything yet. He really didn’t want to offend her, but he was pretty certain by now that her interest in him was more than just friendship. He kept seeing that look on her face after she’d kissed him and it was making him very uncomfortable.

He snatched up the phone to shut it up.

‘Dan Baxter.’

‘I’ve been ringing you all morning. What you been up to?’ Dan recognised the voice of his old friend Steve and sighed. He’d forgotten all about his e-mail.

‘Sorry, mate, I’m working to a very tight deadline.’

‘Which is why you didn’t answer my e-mail, I suppose?’

‘Forgot all about it, I’m afraid.’

‘Well, too late now. I’ve booked myself a seat on a train and will be with you around ten tonight.’

‘What if I’d been away?’

‘I’d have asked Jo to put me up.’

‘Ah, well, you’d have been in trouble, then, because she doesn’t live here anymore.’

A short silence, then, ‘You’re kidding me, right?’

‘I’m kidding you,
wrong
.
’

Dan ran his free hand through his overgrown hair that Jo always used to trim while he waited for Steve’s response.

‘Just as well I’m coming up, then,’ he said. ‘And I want all the gory details. Gotta go now. See you later, OK?’

‘OK. But I’ve got to work during the day while you’re here.’

Dan replaced the receiver and decided that having Steve around for a bit wouldn’t be so bad after all. At least he’d be there when Libby showed up with her vinyl collection.

He couldn’t believe it when two minutes later someone knocked at his door. He glanced at his watch, realised it couldn’t be Libby at this time of day and, since his concentration had already been broken, decided he might just as well see who it was.

‘Dan!’ Aisling said sweetly when he opened the door. ‘You’re not still mad with me, I hope?’

‘You’re back, then,’ he said, stating the obvious resignedly, letting her close the door behind him as she followed him into the kitchen.

‘I was just wondering whether to go into the office, but it doesn’t seem worth it now. It is Friday, after all.’

‘And it is almost midday,’ he said sarcastically. He held up a jar of instant coffee. ‘Would you like one, or will it keep you awake?’

‘Don’t mind if I do,’ Aisling said, ignoring the jibe as she looked around the tidy kitchen. ‘You had a cleaner in or something?’

‘Sort of,’ he said. He had no intention of telling her about Libby and her Mrs Mop guise.

She draped herself on one of the kitchen chairs and crossed her legs in a deliberately provocative manner. He couldn’t help smiling as he turned away and spooned coffee into a couple of mugs. At least things were completely out in the open between them these days. When Jo was here he genuinely hadn’t understood that Aisling fancied him. She couldn’t make it any clearer now, but she never took offence when he made it just as clear that she wasn’t his type.

‘How was the trip?’ he asked when he handed her a mug. ‘Oh, you know—the usual.’

‘Lots of celebrity parties?’ he said, and pretended to yawn as he pulled out the spare chair and sat down opposite her.

She sighed and shrugged at the same time. ‘It can all get a bit tedious at times.’

She was a bit of a posh bird, was Aisling, with a ‘Mummy and Daddy’ who despaired of their daughter for choosing to live in a part of Leeds that lacked the essentials in life, such as a nice little patisserie on the street corner. He felt quite relieved that she didn’t seem inclined to get into the latest A-list gatherings she had attended, but as she took on a far-off look in her eyes he noticed that there was something different about her.

‘What’s happened to your hair?’ he said, puzzled. Last time he’d seen her he could have sworn it was shoulder-length. Surely hair didn’t grow all that fast?

She picked up the ends of her breast-length hair and giggled.

‘Hair extensions, silly. Cost me a fortune, but worth it if they fooled you.’

He could see when he looked closely that the hair had an unnatural quality to it at the ends—a bit like doll’s hair. He decided it was probably best not to say this, though, and besides, it was time to get serious.

‘To answer your question...’ he began.

‘Which question?’

‘The one about being mad with you.’

‘Oh, that,’ she said, sounding bored. ‘I assumed you weren’t any more since you’ve made me some coffee.’