Her face crumpled. ‘You’re not?’
‘Well, I don’t know . . . I mean, we want our family and friends there, don’t we?’ Cherry got off his lap. ‘Oh God, sorry. I didn’t realize . . . I thought we were just messing about.’ He followed her to the kitchen and took the plate from her hands and put it in the dishwasher. Then he laced his fingers with hers. ‘Is this because you think my mum’s going to ruin it?’
‘She’s not going to be thrilled. No doubt she’ll try and stop it.’
‘How’s she going to do that?’
It irritated her, the way he wasn’t taking it seriously, and she pulled away.
‘Cherry, stop. Sorry. It’s just . . . you know I love you. We’re what’s important now. This thing that’s going on with my mum . . . well, I’m sure it’ll get sorted out. We’ve got three months.’
‘She’ll try and put you off me.’
‘Let her try.’
‘She’ll make up some story again. Tell you about things I’ve supposedly done.’
‘I don’t think she will, you know’ – Cherry frowned – ‘but if she does, I’ll put her right.’
She mulled over his words, wanting to be mollified. ‘You know, I’ve also been working on my business plan today. It’s coming along well. Just in case you were thinking—’
He drew her to him. ‘Shush. I do not think you are with me because of my money, despite what my mother may say.’
She gazed at him, checking for genuineness, then wrapped her arms around his neck and gently kissed him on the lips.
FORTY-SEVEN
Monday 26 October
She sometimes thought she was going mad. She was mad. How had she got caught up in this? Laura couldn’t see a way out. Fear followed her everywhere. She would sit in the evenings trying to watch television but unable fully to concentrate, as a mix of anxiety and loneliness would settle on the sofa next to her. She hated being able to see through to the hallway, dark and silent from where she perched on the sofa, and started to leave all the downstairs lights blazing so there was something to welcome her when she got up to get another drink or just wander into the kitchen wondering whether she could be bothered to make something to eat. At night, she was more conscious than she ever thought possible of Howard’s absence and her lone presence in the house. She’d started bolting the front door top and bottom, at first just when she went to bed, then as soon as she got in from work. She rarely walked anywhere as she preferred the safe capsule of the cab. She was afraid of being followed. She was afraid of not knowing for certain if she had been followed.
She walked up the stairs to her office now, the drizzly Monday morning clawing at the windows outside. Willow went to make her a filter coffee from the machine in the kitchen. Laura went into her office, switched on her laptop and looked to see if the latest draft for the end of the series was in. Her writer had promised it for today, but writers often promised things and didn’t always stick to deadlines. In a few weeks, they would start shooting and she was grateful for the distraction that would bring. Her mobile rang and she looked at the name on the screen, then picked up.
‘Alison.’
‘Hello, Laura.’
‘How are you?’
‘Not great.’
Alert, she sat up straight.
‘I’ve had our lead on the phone.’
Laura was instantly wary. Why was Julie calling the channel and not her?
‘I’m afraid I’ve got some pretty bad news. She’s been sent a package, from you, the note said. It arrived this morning.’
Cold fingers of dread walked down Laura’s spine. ‘What was it?’
Alison sighed. ‘I don’t quite know how to say this. It was a dead puppy.’
‘What?’ she whispered.
‘In some sort of box. The note also said something about her solving her first crime.’
‘Christ!’
‘She was hysterical. Still could be, all things considered.’
‘I’ll call her.’
‘No.’
‘But I need to—’
‘Laura, she doesn’t want to talk to you. To anyone, in fact. She’s walked.’
‘What?’
‘We need to stand everyone down.’
Willow appeared at the door with the coffee, but Laura furiously waved her away and she cowered out.
‘Now, just a minute . . . she can’t just walk off the production!’
‘We can sue her if we want, but I think she’ll have a pretty good case given she’s been receiving threatening parcels in the post.’
‘We’ll recast.’
‘Who? You know funding was subject to casting. The Americans won’t go for it.’
‘So you’re cancelling the show?’
‘Laura, we don’t have a lead actress. We don’t have a show.’
She started to panic. ‘You have to let me talk to her. I’m going to call her now.’
‘She won’t answer – she’s switched off her phone. Thinks there’s a possibility someone’s got the number . . .’ Alison tailed off, leaving a heavy silence in the air.
‘Alison, you know this has nothing to do with me, don’t you?’
‘Of course, but that’s not the point. Someone’s got it in for her. Do you know who?’
She thought about lying, but considering the destruction, realized she had to give a sufficiently worthy explanation.
‘They haven’t got it in for Julie. I think it might . . . It’s me. There’s a girl, a stupid girl who’s on some fantasized vendetta.’
‘I see. Are you calling the police?’
Laura paused. ‘Are you?’
‘Julie wants it hushed up. Nothing to the press either, obviously. I don’t think we’ll need the police in order to get the insurance.’ She paused. ‘Laura, how did this girl get Julie’s address?’
Laura went cold, glanced guiltily around her office. ‘I have no idea.’
She held her breath, waited for Alison to say something more and for a moment thought she was going to, then: ‘Right. I’m sorry, Laura. It seems like a sad end. The lawyers will be in touch. We’ll have to catch up again when all this has blown over.’
When would that be? Months, years, probably never. And ITV wouldn’t be the only door slammed in her face. The abrupt end of such a high-profile show would be around town in a matter of days. Out of the office window, she saw Willow rise from her desk, and then seeing her, sit down again.