Strictly Love (27 page)

‘She will be all right, won't she?’ Sam turned a tear-stained face towards Mark.

‘Of course,’ he said fiercely. ‘She's got to be.’

Chapter Thirty-five

 

Emily knocked on Mel's door. She felt incredibly nervous, and wondered how Mel would react to what she had to say.

‘I hope that you're not going to tell me there's a problem with the Symonds case,’ Mel drawled, looking as if Emily was something the cat had dragged in.

‘Yes, actually, I was,’ said Emily. ‘It's one of the witnesses – Kerry Matthews. It turns out her story is a pack of lies. It wasn't Mark who rang the papers, it was Kerry. She did it with Tony Cavendish. There is no case against Mark. It's entirely based on a lie.’

‘Holy shit!’ For once Mel looked truly rattled.

‘Yes,’ said Emily. ‘I have a revised statement from Kerry and she's kept all the text messages Tony sent her. If the papers get hold of them we're going to look ridiculous.’

‘And you're absolutely sure about this?’ Mel asked.

‘Absolutely,’ declared Emily. ‘And I feel fairly sure that the journalist who spilled the story about Mark Davies may have been involved in some kind of entrapment.’

‘God, this gets worse and worse.’ Emily was enjoying seeing Mel squirm.

‘Right, you find out what you can about this, and I'm going to do some damage limitation. If what you say is true I want this case dropped like a hot potato,’ Mel said. ‘Oh, and by the way, good work. I think you can safely say that promotion is in the bag.’

Emily left the room trying not to let out a roar of laughter. In all the time she'd worked here, Mel had never ever praised her. It felt great to have the upper hand for once. Right. Time for phase two. In her search of Andrew's files, she hadn't gone through his emails. Maybe there she might find something to incriminate the firm more. She'd have one last trawl through, and then she was going to go back and tell Mel where to stick her job.

Emily slipped quietly into Andrew's office and started the dull task of tracking back through emails, by a combination of checking those which had been printed and filed and cross referencing with the computer. She searched for Graham Harker's name and got nowhere, so she went back to all the emails he'd received from A-Listers. There were several from Ffion, who had clearly been flirting a lot with Andrew, which was rather amusing. Most of them weren't at all relevant, and then Emily found it. Indiscreet as ever, Ffion had given the game away. Andrew had scribbled a note on it – ‘
Check this out
’

– which was dated the day before he went on holiday. Presumably he hadn't had time to follow it up. It was from Ffion to one of her colleagues.

‘Just to let you know that story we talked about? It's gonna blow this weekend if Graham Harker does his bit properly. But remember he has nothing to do with us …’
Emily copied the email onto a memory stick, sent a copy to her home computer, and another to her hotmail account. Then she walked back to Mel's office. She stood in the doorway, and said loudly, so that as many people as possible in the office could hear:

‘I've had a think about your very kind offer, Mel, and quite frankly I don't think I could live with myself a moment longer if I have to perjure my soul any more than I already have. So you can take your job and put it where the sun shines. I'm out of here. And don't worry about escorting me off the premises. I'm gone.’

Mel sat at her desk, for once in her life speechless, and Emily walked out of her office for the very last time, her head held high, as the rest of the staff rose to their feet in unison and cheered her on her way.

‘Way to go,’ said John admiringly as she got to the end of the room. ‘I always said you were a babe.’

Emily took one last look at the office she had wasted so many years in, and felt an absurd lightening of heart for one whose finances were as precarious as hers were. It was over. A new future awaited her. Maybe, just maybe, now it could involve Mark.

‘What happened to your daughter, Mr Davies?’

Mark couldn't believe it. He and Sam had sat by Gemma's bedside all night. There was no change and he couldn't persuade Sam to leave, so Mark had promised to go to hers to pick up some clothes and check on Beth. He'd emerged into a dark, rainy December morning to discover the hospital was besieged by reporters. Didn't they have anything better to do?

‘No comment,’ said Mark shortly. He put his head down and marched towards his car.

‘Whose fault was it?’

‘Is she brain-damaged?’

Microphones were thrust in his face; cameras flashed. Mark felt like he was in a particularly vile sort of Hell. How could people do this job day in, day out? Didn't they have any heart?

‘Are you going to sue?’

Mark paused and looked at the reporter before him, a weasel-faced little man, with utter distaste.

‘Sue? Why would I sue? Who would I sue? What bloody good would that do?’

Mark pushed his way through the crowd and went to put his parking ticket in the machine. It spat out a number. He must be tired, he was sure it said he owed twenty quid. He looked again. It did say he owed twenty quid. Mark looked in his wallet. He
didn't actually have twenty quid. Mark leaned against the ticket machine and shut his eyes. The rain came pouring down through a gap in the shelter, and suddenly he wasn't sure if his cheeks were wet with tears or rainwater.

His daughter could be dying and some bastard at the hospital was going to charge him twenty quid for having his car in overnight. Suddenly Mark had had enough. He marched towards the ticket office and wrenched open the door to find a startled car park attendant sitting quietly with a cup of tea and a bacon buttie.

‘You want twenty quid for this ticket?’ he said.

‘You have the car in overnight, that's what it costs,’ the man answered.

‘Well, I haven't got twenty quid,’ said Mark. ‘I'm only here because my daughter is lying in a coma in there. I came straight down here last night and haven't been home yet. Don't you people have any conscience?’

‘I'm only doing my job,’ protested the man.

‘That's what they said at Nuremberg,’ said Mark. ‘Now are you going to raise this barrier or what?’

‘What will you do if I don't?’

‘I'll drive straight through it,’ said Mark. ‘Quite frankly, I've had enough. You are my last straw, and I'd advise you not to mess with me if you know what's good for you.’

‘Oh, right,’ said the man. ‘But I'll have to report you for threatening behaviour.’

‘Do I look like I care?’ Mark asked. ‘Report away, and I shall report that you are an obsequious obnoxious little jobsworth.’

‘You can't say that about me,’ said the man.

‘So sue me,’ said Mark, walking away. ‘Everyone else is.’

It was only when he got back to the car that he realised the utter futility of his actions. The car-park attendant wasn't going to raise the barrier and he still hadn't got twenty quid. He wondered where on earth the nearest cash point might be.

‘Do you need twenty quid?’ a voice said from behind his car. ‘Here, have it.’

To Mark's surprise, the weasel-faced reporter was standing by his car.

‘Are you sure?’ he said. ‘This isn't some kind of trick, is it?’

‘I've got kids too,’ said the reporter gruffly. ‘We're not completely heartless. Go on, hop it before the rest of the pack find out what you just did. They'll have a field day with that.’

‘Do you know,’ Mark said, ‘I couldn't bloody care less what they write. I've got more important things to worry about.’

‘So you keep saying,’ said the reporter. ‘And, having watched you for the last few months, I think, on balance, I'm inclined to believe you. Perhaps it's time people heard the other side of the story.’

Mark rubbed his eyes. This was getting more surreal by the minute.

‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘Only not now. I'm knackered. I need to get home, see my other daughter, pick up some things for my wife. When my life is less crazy perhaps I'll think about it.’

‘You don't want the record put straight?’ The reporter was incredulous.

Mark shrugged.

‘So much crap has been written about me in the last few months,’ he said. ‘I don't even entirely trust a version that's written in my favour. And, like I said, I have more important things to worry about.’

‘Is your daughter going to be all right?’

Mark flinched and looked away, not wishing to reveal the depths of his feelings. ‘I have no idea,’ he said. ‘I can only hope so.’

Katie opened the door to Emily.

‘Oh my god,’ said Emily. ‘I came as soon as I heard about Gemma. Do you know how she is?’

‘There's no change,’ said Katie. ‘I offered to have Beth for a few days, so that Mark and Sam can stay at the hospital. From what Rob's told me, they don't have much of a support system, and even though I don't know Sam at all, I felt I had to offer. Sorry, I've been meaning to ring you but it's been a bit mad. Who told you?’

‘Rob,’ said Emily. ‘I just went round to see Mark, because I've got some new information about his case. And to let him know that when I'm done, I'm going to hand my notice in. Rob was there. He told me what happened.’

‘Is he okay?’ Katie asked. ‘I haven't seen him since the day it happened, and he was in a terrible state.’

‘He didn't look great,’ said Emily. ‘He's blaming himself.’

‘It's not his fault,’ Katie insisted. ‘It sounds like Gemma just went off on a mad teenage spur-of-the-moment kind of thing. He told her to come back, but she wouldn't listen.’

‘She can be difficult,’ said Emily, ‘but jeez, how terrible. And just before Christmas as well. They're going to have a terrible time.’

‘I know,’ Katie shivered. ‘I can't stop thinking about how I'd feel if it was one of mine.’

There was a pause for a minute, neither of them knowing quite what to say, till Katie changed the subject. ‘Come on, this is really gloomy. We're not going to help Mark by sitting here feeling upset. Tell me about this information you've found out. Do you really think it might help him?’

‘It turns out Kerry was lying through her teeth,’ said Emily. ‘If I can only get the information to Mark's lawyers, then the case should collapse. He won't have a charge to answer.’

‘That's fantastic,’ said Katie.

‘It will be if my firm doesn't indulge in some damage limitation. I need more, really. I'm trying to track down this reporter. I think he may have spiked Mark's drink.’

‘Quite the super-sleuth, aren't you?’ said Katie.

‘I don't know about that,’ Emily replied. ‘I just hope I can find him.’

The doorbell rang again. This time it was Rob. Katie was shocked by his appearance. He looked as though he hadn't slept in a week.

‘Come in,’ she said. ‘Emily's here, planning how to pin down that reporter who stitched Mark up.’

‘Do you need any help?’ Rob asked. ‘I could be useful as muscle.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ said Emily. ‘I just need to track this man down first. I know, I'll ring Ffion. If I'm lucky she may not have found out that I've left work yet.’

Ten minutes later, Emily had the number she needed, and had arranged to see the unsuspecting Graham Harker.

Katie saw her and Rob to the door.

‘You won't do anything silly, will you?’ she said. She was slightly anxious about Rob's state of mind, which seemed incredibly fragile.

‘No, of course not,’ Emily replied. ‘Besides, with Rob to protect me I can't go wrong, can I?’

Emily paused in the entrance of the bar where they had arranged to meet Graham Harker. His face was easily recognisable from the TV – he was a small, squinty creature with protuberant eyes and rather alarming glasses, and he was sitting at a corner table pretending not to be noticed.

‘Graham,’ she said, extending a hand with a confidence she didn't feel. ‘So good of you to come. Now, I just wanted to go over your statement again, just in case we need to call you.’

‘Is this necessary,’ Graham said. ‘I thought I'd done my bit.’

‘You have,’ soothed Emily. ‘We're just a bit worried the defence may have got wind of, you know – that other business. They may want to call you again.’

‘Oh right.’ Graham had clearly bitten. ‘In that case, fire away.’

‘You met with Mr Davies at what time?’

‘Around nine, I think,’ said Graham.

‘And he was already drunk?’

‘As a skunk,’ said Graham.

‘So you plied him with more drinks and got him to spill the beans,’ said Emily, smiling sweetly.

‘No,’ said Graham, but he looked a little edgy. ‘I didn't do anything. He kept ordering double whiskies. Like I said in my article, he was a disgrace to his profession.’

‘Now that's very interesting,’ said Emily. ‘Because that's not what I heard. I heard that he was sober until he met you. And that you dropped something in his drink.’

‘You don't know that,’ said Graham with some alarm.

‘Oh, I do,’ said Emily. ‘The information I have makes for very interesting reading. I should think Mr Davies will have a field day when he finds out. Entrapment; drugging a member of the public. Does your paper know what you get up to in your spare time?’

‘I work freelance,’ said Graham in rising panic. ‘You can't prove any of this.’

‘I think you just did,’ said Emily. ‘Plus, I have a witness.’

Rob got up from behind the table where they were sitting.

‘If I were you, mate,’ he said, ‘I'd listen very hard to what my friend has to say.’

Half an hour later, Rob and Emily left the bar in hysterics, with a written statement to the effect that Graham Harker had not witnessed Mark Davies drinking but that his behaviour was consistent with someone whose drinks had been spiked by persons unknown. Emily would have preferred a full-on con fession, but it was better than nothing. And she had a feeling that Mark would be so relieved to be out of it, he wouldn't care about pursuing the matter.

‘Thanks for your help, Rob,’ said Emily. ‘Do you think Mark
would mind me popping into the hospital tomorrow to tell him the good news?’

‘It was the least I could do,’ said Rob. ‘And I'm sure Mark would be delighted.’