Authors: Paul Pilkington
Tags: #Suspense, #Mystery, #Mystery & Suspense Fiction
‘You know,’ Emma said, ‘I thought he’d learnt his lesson after what happened. But he hasn’t changed. He hasn’t changed at all.’
‘He’s under a lot of pressure,’ Dan said. ‘It’s not an excuse for running off, but maybe he just had to get away for a bit – like we tried to do by going to Cornwall.’
Emma shook her head. ‘The trouble with my dad is that he won’t talk to anyone. He doesn’t even let his closest family get close enough to understand how he is feeling. He wasn’t always like that. Before Mum got sick, he wasn’t like that at all. He was open, caring. He was never the same after she died. The dad I used to know would never have done the kind of things he’s done in the past few weeks.’
‘Have you tried his phone again?’
‘Still switched off.’
‘Maybe you’ll have better luck in the morning. He’s probably checked into a hotel. Give him a night to think things over and he’ll probably be in touch tomorrow.’
‘Maybe,’ Emma replied, not particularly believing it. It was equally possible that her father intended the break to be permanent. He could be on the road, getting as far away from them all as possible, driving without any particular destination in mind.
She had an unsettling feeling that she had seen the last of him.
10
‘Impressed?’ Lizzy arrived at the flat right on time. It was early Wednesday morning, just before nine, the day Emma had arranged to meet the agent, Diana Saunders. It was also Dan’s first day back in the office, and there was an important team meeting about a new multinational client, so Lizzy had offered to accompany Emma. After what had happened at the deli café, where someone had obviously been watching her, they all thought it increasingly important that Emma shouldn’t be alone.
‘Come in,’ Emma said. ‘Dan’s just left.’
As Emma boiled the kettle, Lizzy jumped right in. ‘Have you told him about the letter?’
Emma dropped a tea bag into the pot. ‘No, not yet.’ She wasn’t certain that she was ever going to tell Dan about the letter from Stuart Harris. ‘I’m still not sure that I’m actually going to read it.’ Since Monday, the letter had remained buried in the bottom of her sock drawer.
Lizzy let the topic drop. ‘Did you have a nice day yesterday?’
‘Pretty good, under the circumstances.’ Dan had suggested a day out in Windsor. The forecast had been good, and it was their last day on holiday, so they’d taken the train and spent the day touring the sights, including the castle and Eton College. She hadn’t been there since she was a little child, and although she didn’t tell Dan, the place really reminded her of her parents – which, with her father still missing, wasn’t necessarily a good thing. But still, they had enjoyed the day, and in places, it was a great distraction from other concerns.
Lizzy seemed to read Emma’s mind. ‘No word from your dad?’
Emma shook her head. ‘Nothing. Miranda called again last night, checking whether he’d been in touch.’
‘And no news from David Sherborn?’
‘No.’
They were due to meet with him later that day, to see whether he had managed to identify anyone who was following her. Emma doubted whether he would come up with anything. ‘To be honest, I’m starting to wonder whether he’s actually been doing what he promised.’
‘Really?’
‘Well, I haven’t heard or seen him at all since our meeting on Monday. He’s never replied to the texts I sent, letting him know where I was.’
‘I guess he didn’t really need to reply. He just needed to read your text and go to that location.’
Emma shrugged. ‘I would have thought I’d see him, maybe not a lot, but occasionally. For instance, yesterday in Windsor, I looked around quite a bit, but there was no sign of him.’
‘Maybe he’s got better at staying out of sight.’
‘Yeah, maybe I’m underestimating him.’
***
Emma and Lizzy got off the tube at Piccadilly Circus, glad to be out into the relatively fresher air at street level – the underground network was a great resource, but it could really do with air-conditioning, especially during warmer spells. The agency was situated just a few minutes from the station, in the heart of the capital. This was prime real-estate territory, and rent on the two-storey, glass-fronted building that housed the EXCEL-ENT media agency must have been astronomical. The agency was just a few years old, having been set up by a breakaway group of agents from a traditional agency, following a fall-out over company direction in the new digital age. It had a reputation of pushing the boundaries in maximising opportunities and income for their clients (and in turn, the agents themselves), and it covered all fields of media, including publishing, television, film, music, and digital. The agency now represented some of the biggest stars in the entertainment industry.
That’s why it had seemed such an honour to receive the unsolicited invite from Diana Saunders. She was a company director, and one of the founding members. She was also leading new developments with the company. From what Emma had heard, most of Diana’s working week was now spent flying between the UK and the United States, where the agency had just set up a New York office. So the fact she was prepared to take time to meet with Emma was a huge compliment.
‘Well,’ Lizzy said, looking up at the building. ‘Good luck. Just give me a call when you’re finished. I’ll be in the swanky clothes shops, just around the corner.’
‘Thanks.’ Emma felt nervous as she reported to reception. She was led into the waiting lift, and emerged into an open-plan office.
A girl, smiling broadly, approached and proffered a hand. ‘Emma, pleased to meet you. I’m Cathy, Diana’s assistant. She’ll be with you in a minute. She’s just finishing a call. Please, just take a seat through there.’ She gestured towards an office to the left. ‘Can I get you a tea, coffee?’
‘Just water would be great.’
Emma perched on the edge of the chair, sipping the water, as Diana breezed in to the room.
‘Diana Saunders. Sorry for that,’ she said, flipping her trademark dark-rimmed glasses up into her hairline. She was wearing a dark 1980s-style power suit, and her jet-black hair was pulled tightly back. ‘Important call.’
‘It’s really nice to meet you,’ Emma said, feeling somewhat in awe of this woman whom she’d heard so much about.
‘And you, and you.’ Diana seemed distracted. She had pulled out her mobile phone, and was scrolling through the display. ‘I have an email here, somewhere. Somewhere here… yes, here it is.’ She placed the phone on the desk without any explanation And finally looked at Emma properly. ‘Yes, really nice to meet you, Emma.’
Emma smiled back, not quite knowing what to say next. ‘I was surprised when you got in touch.’
‘Good, good. I like to surprise people. Tell me, Emma, what’s the most captivating plot you’ve been involved in so far?’ She replaced her glasses and sat back.
‘Well, erm…’ This was an unexpected first question. Emma tried to think through some of the many plots that had occurred during her time on the soap opera
Up My Street
. Okay, they were often outlandish, but they were nearly always captivating. Some people viewed soaps as a low form of entertainment, but in fact they were one of the highest forms, knowing just how to draw people in and keep their attention on what happened next – which was why millions of viewers tuned in to every episode. ‘Maybe the episode with the fire in the nightclub,’ she said. That had been one of the most expensive episodes in the show’s history, and Emma had played a starring role. She was very proud of that one.
‘Wrong!’ Diana said. ‘Absolutely, totally wrong.’
Emma flushed red. ‘I don‘t under...’.
‘Your real life,’ Diana said, ‘
that’s
the most captivating plot.’
‘But… I thought you meant…’
‘Fiction?’ she smiled. ‘Fact, fiction, it’s all the same to me.’
‘I’m afraid I don’t understand.’
Diana picked up the mobile phone. ‘Have you heard of Firework Films?’
Emma shook her head.
‘They’re a relatively new production company. Ambitious, boundary-pushers – the kind of people I like to work with. You might have seen some of their work –
The Shortest Girl on Earth, Married to my Pet, Life of a Junkie, Skidrow Rehab
.’
Warning bells sounded. Emma had certainly heard of these programmes; every one of them had made headlines because of their controversial topics and the voyeuristic (some argued, exploitative) approach taken by the makers. To Emma, it was reality TV at its very worst.
‘I’ve heard of them, yes.’
‘Good. Well, they have an offer for you. An offer I’m sure you’ll agree represents a fantastic opportunity. They would like to produce a dramatization of what happened to you, Emma. The programme would feature actors playing the parts of you, your family, and others. But they would also want to feature cut-away mini-interviews with the real players in the plot. As such, it would be a complementary mix of approaches, giving the viewer a real insight into what happened. I think it would be dynamite.’
‘No,’ Emma said. ‘I’m not interested.’ She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. So this is why the great Diana Saunders had called her in – because she thought there was a done deal she could persuade Emma to take.
Diana looked unmoved, as if she hadn’t even computed Emma’s response. ‘And depending on the ratings, they would then like to make another show, focussing on your return to acting. They would accompany you on your journey as you seek to make it back to the top.’
Emma nearly laughed with disbelief, but actually she felt incredibly angry. Her life and the lives of her friends and family were being touted as cheap, throwaway entertainment. All that pain and anguish, the deaths, the fear – that was to be served up to satisfy viewers? No way would she ever be a part of it. ‘What would you say if I turned this down? Would you still be interested in taking me on as a client?’
Diana’s hesitation confirmed what Emma already thought. ‘I think you’d be crazy to turn down this opportunity.’
Emma stood up. ‘I think I’d better go.’
Now Diana did look shocked. Clearly she wasn’t used to rejection. ‘Do you really think you’ve got a future in acting?’
Her sudden, abrasive tone stopped Emma dead.
Diana smiled cruelly. ‘You turned down the biggest opportunity in your life a few weeks ago. And by pulling out you caused a lot of problems for the people making that film. Everyone in the business knows now that you can’t rely on Emma Holden. She may just walk away, decide that she doesn’t want to do it anymore, and to hell with the consequences. Do you
really
think there will be people queuing up to employ you?’
‘If it means not having to work with people like you, then I really don’t care,’ Emma replied, exiting the office.
Emma leant back on the wall of the neighbouring building, trying to control her breathing. That had been one of the worst experiences of her career. But at least she had stood up to that woman, and it felt good. She called Lizzy, who arrived within minutes. Just as Emma was in the middle of explaining the situation, her mobile rang.
‘Emma, it’s David Sherborn.’
‘Oh, hi, are you still okay for meeting later?’
‘Sure am. In fact, we can meet earlier if you like.’
‘Fine by me, I’m out with Lizzy at the moment, we’re…’
‘In a side street just off Piccadilly Circus.’
Emma looked around. She spotted him off towards their left, next to a post box. He held up a hand. ‘Now, then?’
‘Perfect,’ he said. ‘I’ve got something really interesting to show you.’
PART THREE
11
‘Let me get those,’ David said, as they ordered their coffees. Emma and Lizzy took their drinks to a free table in the quiet coffee shop and David joined them shortly afterwards, pulling a brown envelope from his jacket pocket.
‘I’ve got to admit, I was obviously really hesitant about doing this when you first asked me,’ he began. ‘But to be honest, I’ve really enjoyed the past few days. Maybe I should look to change career, and go into surveillance full time.’
Emma and Lizzy smiled politely, but wanted to find out what he knew. Having convinced herself that he wouldn’t come up with anything, Emma’s hopes had now risen dramatically.
He seemed to read their impatience, and pulled out a photograph from the envelope, laying it on the table. He placed a finger on the image. ‘This guy I spotted pretty much straight away. Monday, in fact, shortly after I started to follow you – he was pretty obvious.’
Emma was disappointed. ‘Adrian Spencer.’
David was surprised. ‘You know him?’
‘He’s a reporter for the
Daily Post
,’ Lizzy explained. ‘He’s been pestering us for quotes about what happened to us for the past few weeks.’
‘Right. Well, this guy was definitely following you for quite some time on Monday. I also saw him taking photographs, and making notes.’