Three Way (6 page)

‘She didn’t know you were going to be there,’ I say.

‘So she tells you. I’m really not happy about this. If there’s a phrase to convey to you just how unhappy I am, then this would be the time I’d be saying it.’

‘I know you don’t like it but it won’t be for long.’ Paul comes back with the coffees.

‘How do you know that?’ Parker asks. The newsdesk phone starts ringing, I can feel Paul’s eyes boring into my head. It’s a personal call at work, not really allowed. I want to answer Parker’s question as honestly as I can but when I think about it, nothing comes out. ‘Exactly,’ he adds.

‘I’ve got to go mate.’

‘Yeah, okay,’ Parker replies.

‘Bye.’ I hang up. Shit, maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Parker’s really annoyed. Hope he doesn’t do anything dumb. Paul places the coffee in front of me, spilling a little on the desk.

‘Damnit,’ he says.

‘It’s okay, got some tissues here.’

‘Yeah right,’ he replies. I detect a hostile tone in his voice.

‘Everything okay?’

‘Not really. Just had my wife’s lawyer on the phone wanting to sort through the divorce. Really don’t need that at work.’

‘Shit. Sorry,’ I say, ‘is there anything I can do?’

‘No. It’s fine,’ he replies, sighing. The newsdesk phone is still ringing, Paul turns to me. ‘You could answer that phone though.’

‘Sorry,’ I reply, ‘newsdesk.’

‘There’s smoke coming out of Notting Hill tube station,’ the man on the other end says. Shit! I grab my pen.

‘Smoke?’

‘Yeah, I can see it now. The alarms going off and people are coming out.’ I’m writing down everything this guy says.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Brian. Brian Daring.’

‘Okay Brian, my name’s Ollie.’ I glance at the caller ID and write down Brian’s mobile number. ‘Can you take some photos or video of whatever you can see?’

‘Sure.’

‘I don’t want you to take any risks, just whatever you can get safely. If you send them to my email address which is Ollie dot Hayward at TBN dot com.’

‘Uh, okay. Yeah.’

‘I’m going to call the fire brigade. Can I call you back in a few minutes?’

‘Yep, do you want my number?’

‘I’ve got it here. Speak in a bit.’ I put the phone down, look down my list of available camera crews and call Dave Mostow. I tell him to get on his way to Notting Hill.

‘What’s going on?’ Paul asks.

‘Possible fire at Notting Hill tube. Can you call the police?’

‘Yep. Need to get a sat truck on its way as well.’

‘Yeah, I’m on it,’ I reply.

We spend maybe forty-five minutes checking out this story before we discover that it wasn’t a fire at all. A tube train had entered the station and knocked some building materials which in turn caused a big cloud of dust. People mistook it for smoke. None of it went to air and as quickly as it had begun, everything returned to normal. Just another day at the office.

I note the silence when I open the front door to the flat. I dump my bag in the hallway and open the door to the living room. Ashley lies on the sofa, a book open on her chest, fast asleep. She’s wearing dark-blue jeans, a tight white t-shirt and no socks. I glance around the room, nothing out of the ordinary, other than a switched off Playstation. I step inside and look at the book she’s been reading. The title reads ‘Conversations with God by Neale Donald Walsch.’ I smile and frown, confused at her choice. I quietly walk back to the hallway and see Parker’s closed door. As I walk up to it, I hear Coldplay coming from inside. I knock.

‘Fuck off,’ his muffled voice calls from inside.

‘It’s me,’ I reply.

‘Oh.’ A few seconds later, the door opens. Coldplay gets louder from his iPod dock.

‘You two becoming friends then?’ I say. He turns and goes back to his digital piano. He tinkers with the keys as we talk. ‘Can we try and make this work?’

‘You remember what she did, yeah? What you did?’

‘Yes I do, I’m sorry.’

‘I just don’t get why you would let her in like this. Risk our friendship.’

‘She’s got nowhere else.’

‘Everyone has somewhere el-’

‘She doesn’t, Parker. She really doesn’t. And her last boyfriend beat her up.’ He stops playing with the keys and turns to me.

‘Beat her up?’

‘Yeah, she’s got a proper bruise all up her neck.’ Parker thinks for a moment.

‘Shit,’ he says.

‘Look, I know how you feel but I can’t just kick her out onto the street, you know? You and I go way back. But, so do me and Ashley. We all do.’ He listens to me, saying nothing, considering what I’ve said.

‘Just feels like, I dunno, you’re rubbing my face in it, that’s all.’

‘I’m not, and neither is she.’

‘You gotta admit, it’s a pretty fucked up situation.’

‘Yeah but she’s our friend. Your friend too and we can’t just abandon her because of something that happened years ago.’ Parker turns his nose up.

‘Easy for you to say.’ Off my look he then says, ‘alright. I get it, I’m in a minority here. You’d better remember this though.’

‘You’re not an arsehole, even if you look like one,’ I say, smiling.

‘Why are you smiling when you say that? That’s not going to persuade me. See, you were getting somewhere and now you’ve just gone back to the beginning.’

‘Alright, alright. I get it.’ We glance at each other for a moment.

‘This guy seriously beat her up?’

‘Yeah,’ I reply. Parker thinks for a moment. ‘So, you want dinner?’ I ask.

‘You mean, what am I cooking?’

‘No. I’m cooking.’ Parker looks at me suspiciously.

‘You?’ he says.

‘Yeah.’

‘You’re cooking?’

‘Yes.’

‘Ollie, in the entire time we’ve been living here, I can count the times you’ve cooked on one hand.’

‘So? I can cook and stuff.’

‘Alright, give it your best shot,’ he says. I nod.

‘Thanks Parker,’ I say. ‘I mean it.’

‘Yeah, whatever.’

I wander out and back along the hall towards the kitchen. I hear a muffled conversation coming from the living room. Ashley is talking to someone on her mobile.

‘I don’t know…no, it was over when you started throwing things…I’m not going to…no, Gary, I said no. You call me again, I’m going to get my big, scary flatmate to fuck you up.’ Silence. Has she hung up or… I try to listen further. When there’s still no sound, I quickly turn as the door opens and Ashley comes out. She stops when she sees me standing in mid-sneak. ‘Oh…’ she says.

‘Uh…’ I reply, unable to hide a guilty smile.

‘Were you listening?’

‘Not really.’ She tilts her head. ‘I’m making some dinner and was going to ask you if you wanted any.’ She folds her arms, unimpressed. ‘Which big scary flatmate were you talking about just then? Because I can’t see Parker beating anyone up.’ She rolls her eyes and strides past me towards the toilet.

‘Dinner would be lovely Ollie, thank you,’ she says as she closes the toilet door. I shake my head. Okay, I shouldn’t have listened but come on. I know it was a private conversation but she was saying it loudly enough.

The awkwardness between Ashley and Parker continues throughout dinner. It’s my speciality, fish fingers, oven chips and beans. Hey, it’s hot and it’s not going to kill anyone. I try, as best I can, to make conversation but there is still mild sarcasm from Parker and he ends up leaving with an unfinished plate and heading back to his room. Of course, that could just be my cooking. I glance at Ashley who shrugs at me. She clears the plates away as I sit, lost in thought. I don’t know what to do about this.

Ashley walks back in and throws herself onto the sofa, yanking out her ‘Conversations with God’ book from underneath her and opens it at a folded page.

‘Are you seriously reading that?’ I ask. She lowers the book to reveal her face and stares at me.

‘Problem?’

‘No, just doesn’t seem very…you.’

‘Well contrary to popular belief, I’m not the same girl I was at twenty-one.’

‘No, you were like a child who’d down three Redbulls and then move onto a bag of Woolworth’s Pick ’N Mix,’ I say. She smiles, remembering.

‘Woolworths,’ she says.

‘Shame,’ I reply.

‘Yeah.’ Silence between us. I note that she hasn’t raised the book. What’s she waiting for? Maybe I should start a conversation. I go to say something but she beats me to it. ‘Thanks for letting me stay here, I really appreciate it.’

‘No problem. So, before on the phone…was that your ex?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What a dick.’

‘Yeah. Spent a long time putting up with his crap. I never used to be like this.’

‘Like what?’

‘This. Shy, nervous around people. I used to know where I was headed and nothing would stop me. Now look at me.’

‘Hey, at least you left him. That’s the important thing. You could still be there now. He could still be hitting you.’

‘Yeah, I guess.’

‘Took guts to do that. And coming here was pretty brave too.’

‘I’ve always trusted you Ollie. You were always…good news.’

‘Thanks. I think.’

‘I know what happened before between us. But that was then, and this is now.’ I nod slowly and smile.

‘I’m glad you came here,’ I say.

‘Me too.’

Tuesday. I’ve been at work for just over an hour and a half. Paul is reading the Daily Mail. It’s strangely quiet, hardly anyone speaking or shouting. Having just got the team a round of coffees, you’d think one of them would engage in conversation but no. Nothing. They all seem to be miles away. I check Facebook, nothing of note on my news feed. Just for the record, I don’t check Svetla’s news feed. Except…I do. Don’t know why I told you that just then. Sorry. I’m still friends with Svetla. Either she’s forgotten to delete me or she wants me to see that her life is perfect and ongoing. On the plus side, it doesn’t look like she’s found anyone else which is good. I am not a stalker.

My mobile rings, I glance at Paul, checking to make sure he hasn’t forgotten I’m sitting opposite him. He’s still engrossed in the newspaper. I look back to the phone, the display reads ‘Blocked.’

‘Hello?’ I say.

‘Is that Ollie?’

‘Yeah, who’s this?’

‘My name is Lauren, you came by last week to do an interview.’ Jesus, the stunner has called me. Right, just need to play it cool. My heart starts thumping like an African drum. I get up out of my chair and head to a quieter corner of the newsroom.

‘Hey Lauren, how’s it going? Did you see your interview go out?’

‘Yes, it was okay. I think I could have given a better answer.’

‘Rubbish, you gave some great clips. They were very happy.’

‘Well, I just hope it worked for you.’

‘Absolutely, really good.’

‘Good, oh hang on a second, someone’s here. Can I just put you on hold?’

‘Sure.’

‘Okay, sorry, two ticks.’ I can still hear her talking to someone in her office. She obviously didn’t press the button properly. ‘What…? Then just tell him if he doesn’t get Hockney to call me, the contract is void…I had the lawyer go over it with him yesterday…then keep pushing until we close it. I’m not throwing away two million on this arsehole. Greg, get it done, I won’t ask again.’ Jesus, sounds like she’s putting Greg’s balls through a blender. There’s a slight pause before she says,

‘Sorry, you still there?’

‘Uh yeah. You sound scary.’

‘Oh…you heard?’

‘Um, only a little bit. But you sounded like you were kicking arse.’

‘Yeah, it’s so boring but I just wish people would do their jobs. They’re paid well enough.’ Why is she calling me? That is the only question zipping through my mind. I opt to try to steer the conversation.

‘Was there something you needed?’ Professional to the last Ollie, even if it will destroy any chances you have, nice one.