Guilty Feet (12 page)

‘Oh?’

Libby nodded. ‘She works in the Italian—you know, that café on Carlton Lane.’

Nicola pondered this for a moment. ‘Still quite a come-down, though,’ she said.

Libby shared a falsely pitying smile with Nicola and hoped very much that she would go away now. But she had miscalculated.

‘Well,’ Nicola said, changing the subject abruptly, ‘I’ve spoken to everyone else, and I’m satisfied with what most of them have achieved today. Can you tell me about these new leads of yours?’

But Libby couldn’t, of course. Normally she would have been able to bluff her way out of tight spot, but her mind at that moment went blank.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, backtracking now, ‘but I don’t think I had a very good list to work from.’

‘Your list was no different from anyone else’s,’ Nicola answered coolly. She stood now, and with her arms still folded peered down at Libby. ‘Then I’m afraid that you’ll have to leave,’ she added with a heavy but insincere sigh.

Despite everything, Libby was genuinely shocked. ‘You’re sacking me?’

‘Shall we say a month’s notice? We can’t afford to carry dead weight, and you have been under-performing for quite some time now. Today, in effect, was your last chance.’

‘You can’t do that,’ Libby answered hotly.

‘Oh, yes, I can. And that’s another thing,’ she said. ‘Your attitude. It sometimes borders on rudeness. I’m afraid I will have to mention that in your reference.’

There was silence suddenly in the office that Libby shared with four other consultants. Everyone had stopped talking on the phone, stopped tapping on their computer keyboards.

‘And yours,’ Libby responded, icily now, ‘borders on the ridiculous. Do you know how stupid you look with that thing round your neck? Pretending to be such a good Christian when everyone knows what a bitch you really are!’ She glanced around the office as if hoping for back-up, but no one looked up from their desks.

Nicola’s small eyes were as wide as they’d go now, with indignation.

‘How dare you?’ she screeched. Then, because she must have realised how crazed she appeared, she lowered her voice. ‘There can be no comfortable working relationship between us now that you have made your feelings about me so clear,’ she said. ‘I must therefore ask you to clear your desk immediately.’

‘Suits me fine,’ Libby said with a shrug. She stood up and glared back at Nicola so hard that her boss actually flinched and stepped back. ‘But expect to hear from my solicitor very soon.’

With that she gathered up her bag, gave Nicola one final withering look, and with as much dignity as she could muster strode purposefully out of the office.

***

‘She left a couple of months ago and I’ve been feeding you bullshit ever since.’

Dan was on the phone to his mother again, and Jo had come up in the conversation as usual. For some reason he had decided that the time had come to tell her the truth.

‘I guessed that something was up,’ she said. ‘But I’m not sure why you felt you had to do that. Feed me bullshit, I mean.’

‘I was hoping that she’d come back, I suppose.’

There was a short silence at the other end of the line. ‘Did you try and get her back?’

‘It was her decision, Mum.’

‘Honestly, Dan. I thought I’d done a better job on you, I really did.’

‘Are you saying I should have done the Stone Age thing and dragged her back to my cave?’

‘More or less, yes. A woman needs to feel that she’s wanted passionately.’

Dan wasn’t sure that he liked the sound of that very much. For some reason he didn’t care to think of his mother as a passionate woman. It conjured up all sorts of things he preferred not to contemplate.

‘And don’t be such a prude,’ she said, apparently reading his mind. ‘I might be your mother but I’m a woman as well. And anyway,’ she went on quickly, ‘what went wrong? What did you do to make her leave in the first place?’

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence,’ he said. ‘What makes you think it was all my fault?’

‘I expect it was both your faults,’ she replied with a sigh, ‘but something must have happened to make her actually leave.’

Dan turned and looked out of his bedroom window. On the other side of the street was a row of Victorian houses just like the one he was in, but beyond them, out of sight from the window, was Finchling Park, a place where he and Jo had often been for a stroll on summer evenings. He thought again about what Sarah had said of her former boyfriend.
He
upset
me
with
something
he
said
. But, although Dan had been racking his brains ever since, he couldn’t think of anything he had said that could possibly have upset Jo so much.

‘It isn’t as simple as that,’ he finally said. ‘I don’t think there was one particular incident that made her leave. And anyway, she’s seeing someone else now.’

There was a short silence, then, ‘And what about you? Have you been seeing anyone else?’

Dan hesitated. He picked up a pencil and started rolling it around in his free hand.

‘Well, there is someone who lives in one of the other flats, but...’

‘But what?’

He regretted it immediately. He had been going to give her the full rundown on his problems with Libby, but since his mother already seemed to have a low enough opinion of him he left it at that.

‘But nothing,’ he said.

***

My heart sank when I got home and saw the state of my formally pristine kitchen. My father was oblivious to the mess he’d made, creating what was without any doubt the most disgusting mess that had ever been set before me. He called it chilli con carne, but it could just as easily have been a dish of reheated, two-day-old vomit.

He made me sit down the moment I entered the kitchen, and was so pleased with his efforts that I hid my dismay as he spooned the revolting concoction onto two plates. Until I tried forking a red kidney bean, that is.

‘Er, Dad?’ I said as he beamed at me over the table. ‘Did you get the beans from a packet, by any chance?’

Still wearing a flower-patterned oven mitt on each of his hands, he nodded happily. ‘They’re organic,’ he said. ‘A bit more expensive, but much better for us.’

‘Well, I’m sorry, Dad, but you’re supposed to soak dried kidney beans overnight before you use them for cooking.’

‘I thought they were a bit hard,’ he said, determinedly cheerful, ‘but then I remembered you liked things a bit crunchy.’

If only he hadn’t been serious—

‘Vegetables, maybe,’ I said with a sigh, ‘but these beans are so hard it could cost a fortune in dental repair work.’ And that wasn’t even the worst of the problem. ‘And I’m sorry, but they can be dangerous if they’re not cooked properly.’

He looked completely bewildered as he removed his oven mitts. ‘Are you telling me that this meal is inedible?’

‘I’m afraid so.’ I was tempted to tell him he should have read the packet, but I didn’t want to rub his nose in it. ‘And I really am sorry,’ I added instead, ‘because it looks so good and you’ve obviously gone to such a lot of trouble.’ I glanced round at the bombsite that was my kitchen and wondered how long it was going to take me to clear the place up.

He looked despondently at the mess on his plate. ‘What if we pick the beans out?’ he suggested, without much enthusiasm.

I shook my head firmly. ‘If there is a problem with the beans it might have affected the rest,’ I said, unsure of my facts but not willing to take a risk even to please him.

He stared a bit longer at his efforts and then looked up at me with a wry grin. ‘Can’t say I fancied it anyway. It does look a bit like sick.’

‘Minus the carrots,’ I said, and we managed a weak laugh together.

‘How about I do the cooking in future?’ I said as we washed up together. ‘And you just chip in for the food.’

‘Fine by me,’ he said, plainly relieved. ‘And thanks for not biting my head off. If that had been your mother she’d have gone crazy.’

I’d have gone crazy myself if it had been Dan, I thought, remembering how often I’d trashed his culinary efforts. And he was a far better cook than my father ever could be.

‘Which reminds me,’ I said. ‘I think I should call her this evening and tell her what’s happening. If she finds out from someone else she’ll just think we’re being sneaky.’

We ate the last of my old standby, Marmite with toast, and when Dad took up my suggestion to have a long soak in the bath I rang my mother—but she wasn’t in. I noticed she’d already changed the answer-phone message. It was no longer ‘Mary and Andrew’ who couldn’t take the call at the moment, but just ‘Mary’, and she sounded so pleased with her new single status that it made my stomach churn up a bit. Nevertheless, I was pretty relieved that I wasn’t required to speak to her directly.

I kept my message brief. ‘Just ringing to let you know that Dad’s staying with me for a bit. We thought it made sense till you sort things out.’

I made Dad’s bed up on the sofa and took myself off to bed at about eleven o’clock. I was very tired, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to get to sleep till I checked to see if Dan had got round to replying to my last message.

He had.

Dear
Sarah

Why
didn’t
I go
after
Jo
when
she
left?

I felt queasy when I saw my name there. It was OK when it was Dan’s anonymous girlfriend we were talking about, but now it was beginning to feel very strange. The message went on.

Funny
,
but
someone
else
asked
me
that
same
question
today,
and
I
guess
the
answer
is
that
old
demon
called
pride.

So
what
do
you
really
look
like,
Sarah
Daly?

Dan

PS
Do
you
ever
visit
this
friend
of
yours
in
Leeds?

I had some thinking to do about the first part of the e-mail, but I felt quite excited by the PS—especially now that I knew he was free. Was it a hint that he’d like to meet Sarah? And, if so, was I completely crazy in wishing for a moment that I really
were
Sarah Daly? Some artist in London who might just be about to embark on a brand-new relationship with a gorgeous man, without any of the luggage that Dan and Jo had acquired? Probably. But the thought really did only last for a moment.

I decided to keep my reply brief and light-hearted in the end. It had all got a bit heavy of late, and I wanted to restore some flirty sparkle.

Dear
Dan

It’s
hard
to
describe
yourself
honestly
,
so
the
best
I
can
say
is
that
I’m
averagely
gorgeous!

Sarah

And then, just to prove that some of my mental health was restored...

PS
No
current
plans
to
visit
Leeds
.

Chapter Eleven

Libby had spent part of the morning with an Armani-clad lawyer whose office was above a discount shoe shop in one of the seedier parts of Leeds. Specialising in unfair dismissal and personal injury claims, the aptly named Nigel Leach was not at the most reputable end of the legal profession, but his confidence made up for his shortfalls. He seemed to think there would be no problem at all in obtaining an acceptable settlement from her former employers and agreed to act on a no win, no fee basis. In other words she had nothing whatever to lose.

‘They usually fall at the first fence,’ Nigel Leach assured Libby glibly, ‘so long as we’re not too greedy, that is.’

Despite the rundown state of his office, it was clear from his suit that he was relatively successful—though Libby judged this to be based more on volume of business rather than the level of compensation he managed to obtain for individual clients. But the fact was that Libby didn’t really care how much she got. This was a matter of principle. The Nicola Dicks of this world couldn’t go around getting rid of people just because it suited them, using any old excuse that happened to take their fancy. And the point was, while dealing with a compensation claim might be a commonplace inconvenience for some people, Libby had good reason to suspect that it would affect Nicola more than most.

‘Quick results are more important to me,’ she told him coolly. ‘I’ve got a feeling the company might be in trouble, so the sooner we get moving the better.’

‘We invariably win because employers usually want to avoid bad publicity,’ he said with a satisfied nod, ‘and the shakier the business the more likely this is the case.’

Nigel Leach was not unattractive, as it happened—not as far as Libby was concerned anyway. He was tall, sturdy, and handsome in an obvious don’t-I-know-it, let’s-pile-on-the-hair-gel sort of way, but she quite liked that. He wasn’t in Dan’s league, of course, but then she wasn’t very happy with him at the moment.

She’d gone round to see him last night after work, and he wouldn’t let her in his flat.

‘Sorry, Lib,’ he said, looking harassed as he stood there in the frame of his doorway. ‘I’ve got to keep working, I’m afraid.’

She’d wanted to tell him about losing her job, but she held it back and mentioned a more pressing matter instead.

‘I’ve had a call from Baz,’ she told him quickly. ‘He’s had an offer for one of the rarer albums, but it’s a lot less than the asking price. Do you think I should take it or hold out longer?’

Dan shook his head firmly. ‘You’re going to have to make that decision yourself, I’m afraid. I don’t want it on my conscience if you’re disappointed.’

She’d felt hurt by that, and he must have seen it because then his manner softened a little.

‘Why don’t you come round for a drink tomorrow night?’ he said. ‘I think that we need to talk.’

Which had quite cheered her up at the time, but since she’d had a chance to think about it she’d decided those words had an ominous ring.

Nigel Leach shook her hand warmly and promised to be in touch very soon.

When she got back to the flat there was another telephone message waiting from Baz—more news, he said, about her collection. He asked her to call him back, and when she did he informed her that he might have found a buyer for most of the records.

‘Only he seems quite keen to meet the seller,’ he said. ‘He’s the cautious type, and he wants to be sure that everything is above board, so to speak.’

But there was nobody more cautious than Libby, and she didn’t like the sound of this one little bit.

‘I thought I’d made myself clear about that,’ she told him. ‘And anyway, isn’t it a bit
irregular
?’ A bit fishy, she meant, but she could hardly say that.

‘Not when there isn’t any proof of ownership. It’s up to you, of course, but I don’t think you’ll get a better offer.’

‘What’s this would-be buyer’s name?’ she asked carefully. She could hear the sound of papers being shuffled, pictured Baz’s disordered desk.

‘Waites,’ he came back. ‘Michael Waites. He’s from Manchester, apparently.’

It sounded OK, but she still wasn’t sure.

‘I need to think about it and ring you back.’

She’d just made herself a pot of freshly brewed strong coffee when she heard a knock on her door.

As was often the case, it looked as if Aisling was off to some fancy dress party. She was wearing a netted green satin skirt with a violent pink cardigan, and this on a Wednesday, midday in November. The hair extensions were currently gathered into a Fifties ponytail, with some of the false hair wrapped round the elastic.

‘I saw you come in a while ago and I wondered if everything was OK?’ she said.

‘You’re not ill or anything, are you?’

It was quite hard not to like Aisling, even if she did look and sound ridiculous, and seeing her now had triggered off the beginning of an idea in Libby’s head.

‘Come in,’ she said.

As she poured an extra mug of coffee for Aisling, she told her that she had been made redundant.

‘Which means the quicker I sell that vinyl now, the better.’

Aisling knew all about Libby’s collection after the other night, and she nodded her head sympathetically. They took the mugs back to the plainly decorated sitting room and sat side by side on Libby’s stripe-patterned sofa.

‘In fact you could be a great help to me, if you wouldn’t mind.’

Aisling looked at her with wide-eyed surprise. ‘I’d love to help if I can.’

Libby smiled warmly at her. ‘Well,’ she began, ‘it’s like this...’

***

On Sid’s instructions, I made a few follow-up calls to my old clients on my mobile during a half-hour break that Giovanna insisted I take when I told her about Sid’s plans for Pisus. She was very excited for us and left me alone to make the calls from the back room. It seemed a bit odd, ringing important clients from the kitchen of an Italian café, but the responses I got were quite encouraging. Five out of the seven on my list had agreed to meetings with Sid over the next couple of days, and the others said that they would get back to me later.

One of the clients had been particularly pleased to hear from me. Tim Bailey, who owned a chain of camera shops, had always made it clear that he liked me. He’d known I was living with someone, though, and had never come on really strong, but he’d clearly given me to understand that there was an opening in his affections if my circumstances ever altered.

‘So,’ he said, when he took my call, ‘any other changes I should know about?’

I could hear the smile in his voice and I knew that he meant changes of a
personal
nature. I was tempted to tell him about Dan and me, but I thought it was best to stick to business.

‘Only good ones,’ I said. ‘I honestly believe that with Sid in charge the management of your website can only improve.’

He chuckled at that. ‘Are you going to be there at the meeting?’ he said.

‘I’m afraid not. I’ve got prior engagements for the rest of the week,’ I said as I stirred pasta sauce with my free hand.

‘Well, hopefully see you very soon,’ he said. ‘Oh, and good luck. I admire your enterprise.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, and I felt a little flutter of pleasure at being taken so seriously as a fledgling businesswoman.

Sid seemed quite pleased with me as well, when I called to tell him the news.

‘We’ll need someone else to help get things off the ground,’ he said. ‘A good all-rounder who’s not afraid of hard work. Know anyone like that?’

I thought of all the people I’d worked with at Pisus, but none of them fitted that description. They were either very afraid of hard work or they had very specific job descriptions.

‘I do know someone like that,’ I said, suddenly inspired, ‘the only problem is that she isn’t much of a risk-taker.’ And joining Sid and me in trying to revive a company that had already gone bust seemed a heck of a risk for someone who cared about job security as much as Cass did.

‘Try her anyway,’ Sid instructed, very much in boss mode, ‘and if she really is any good I’ll definitely make it worth her while.’

And then later, just when I thought I’d got used to the idea of people seeing me serving behind the counter of the Italian, Nicola Dick made an appearance and I was back to square one—self-conscious and insecure.

‘I heard you were working in here,’ she said, down her nose, ‘but I just had to see it for myself.’

I was glad Giovanna had just popped out to Boots for a while. I don’t think she’d have taken too kindly to someone sneering at her café the way Nicola was so obviously doing.

‘Imagine,’ she went on smugly before I could get a word in, ‘a descendant of the aristocracy reduced to serving up spaghetti and cappuccinos.’

Oh, no, I thought, cringing inside. That foolishly misguided mother of mine had gone right ahead and told everyone that ridiculous story about the Fothershaws. But the important thing, I told myself, was not to make things worse by taking the bait...

‘Did you want something?’ I said, in a dignified if frosty manner.

She ordered a double espresso and I’m ashamed to say that I was seriously tempted to spit in it. Fortunately for her I controlled the temptation, but unfortunately for me there were no other customers waiting to be served, so she did not feel obliged to move to a table.

‘I was talking to a friend of yours recently,’ she said, and I wondered what was coming now. ‘And she tells me that you’re still pining after Dan.’

She could only mean Libby, and either Nic was putting an unpleasant spin on an innocent comment made by her, or Libby wasn’t the genuine sort of person I’d taken her for.

‘I wouldn’t call Libby a friend exactly,’ I said, smiling tightly. ‘And I’ve no intention of discussing my feelings for anyone with you.’

Nicola looked a bit thwarted, uncertain now how to respond.

‘I understand that congratulations are in order,’ I went on pleasantly, moving my eyes to the rather modest engagement ring on her left hand.

She began to smile, pleased that I’d provided the opening for some serious one-upmanship. Only I didn’t give her the chance. ‘And I also hear that you’ve found God,’ I said, allowing my eyes to linger on the ostentatious gold crucifix in the V of her neckline. ‘Do you feel that it’s made you a better person? Do you forgive me now for stealing your boyfriend when I was seventeen?’

The static given off by her anger was like an aura, and if it hadn’t been for the arrival of two fairly good-looking businessmen at the counter who knows where it might have led? As it was, she gave me a superior look, eyed the businessmen speculatively, and departed the café without even having touched her spit-free double espresso.

I was really annoyed with my dad when he came to the café again. He said that he’d thought it might be nice if we walked back to the flat together, maybe get some shopping on the way home. I might have accepted it at face value if he’d been able to keep his eyes off Giovanna as he was talking.

She wasn’t any better either. Like some blushing teenager, she was practically tongue-tied in his company. And I didn’t think anything was capable of tying up Giovanna’s tongue.

Then he really went for it as we were taking our leave. ‘I’ve got an idea,’ he said, bold as brass. ‘Since Marco’s away at the moment, and Giovanna is all on her own...’

Yes, he invited her round to the flat for a meal on Friday night.

And she, very coyly, accepted.

I was furious with him, especially since I’d already arranged to meet Cass on Friday night. I wanted to talk about the job and I’d decided to ask Sid along as well. She’d never trust my word that Pisus was about to rise from the ashes, but I had an idea that Sid might be more successful. I’d called her quickly on my mobile while Giovanna was still shopping at Boots. And that was another odd thing, come to think of it. She’d come back laden with smelly things—bubble bath and perfume—and some make-up as well. She’d said it was time she treated herself, but after that weird exchange with my dad the first time they met I was a little bit suspicious even then.

Now I was more than a little bit.

I gave Dad a rollicking as we walked home in the darkness. I reminded him that he was still a married man, but he was completely dismissive.

‘I think you’re overreacting, Jo,’ he said, eerily calm. ‘I just thought it would be nice to get to know your employer. She seems a very nice lady.’

Oh, yes, she was a very nice lady all right. And gorgeous as well, for her age, despite her moustache.

‘And how was I to know that you’d made plans for Friday night?’

‘Because that’s what people who are twenty-six and single do, Dad. And what about Mum?’ I persisted. ‘What would she think of you “getting to know” my employer?’

He turned to me now and his expression under the streetlights was serious.

‘I know I told you that it was me who’d left, but the truth is your mother threw me out.’

That shut me up for a bit.

‘You know what she’s like, though.’ I eventually started up again. ‘She has a sharp tongue, but she loves you. I’m sure.’ But was I? I’d seen the way she treated my dad, humiliating him in front of friends, making fun of his Yorkshire accent.