Laura looked up.
“I’ve got her PA on the phone. She says there’s nothing in the diary.”
“What?”
“Alison’s out of the office.”
“When’s she back?”
“Not until this afternoon.”
It was ten in the morning. “But I have a meeting—”
The receptionist held up a finger and listened to something through her headpiece. “Her PA’s coming down.”
Laura moved aside for the throng behind her and checked her diary. She had the right time, so Alison must have forgotten. And it was supposed to be urgent. She watched the screens broadcasting a mix of the news and the morning’s property program and wondered, irritated, when she’d be able to fit Alison in. This afternoon was already full and she wanted to get back home early to talk to Daniel.
Rachel, the PA, came through the revolving doors. “Laura,there seems to be some mistake. We don’t have an appointment for you this morning.”
“But you rang Willow. Yesterday afternoon.”
She frowned. “No, I didn’t.”
“She spoke to you. Something about casting?”
“I promise you, I didn’t.”
Something clicked in Laura’s brain, and with it, a growing sense of foreboding. She knew who was behind this. “My apologies, I’ll talk to Willow. She must have been mistaken,” she said, and quickly left the building.
Once outside, she tried to still her racing heart. Someone had a camera set on a tripod outside, pointing at the main entrance, right where she stood. It unnerved her, as if Cherry could somehow be watching on a screen somewhere, the all-seeing eye.How had she found out?Laura quickly moved away from the lens of the camera.
That question had gone round and round in her head last night, but she couldn’t work it out. There was one thing she was sure of, though—Cherry was behind this stunt. But why would she do something so silly, so juvenile, as to send her on a wild-goose chase, a meeting that didn’t exist? It was harmless in itself, unless she’d been deliberately placed out of the way.
Jesus. Daniel.
* * *
Laura walked into her ominously quiet house and knew almost instantly that Cherry had been there before her. There was a lingering sense of dread as she made her way through the empty rooms. The note was left on the kitchen worktop and said simply:Seen Cherry. Decided to move back to the flat, after all. Think it just makes things easier all round. Time I stood on my own two feet and got a little independence anyway. Dan.
The last sentence had been an add-on, she could tell. Something to soften the blow. She laid the note down and sat heavily. What had Cherry told him? How had she painted it? Whatever way served her best, she knew.
She pulled out her phone and was about to call Daniel, thenhad an image of Cherry there, listening at his ear. No, this was a conversation that had to be between just the two of them. She sent him a text instead:Daniel, I know you’re probably and justifiably upset and furious at me, but, please, will you let me explain? Can we meet later?
The response was swift:Tomorrow. Five at the flat. But I only have an hour.
It wasn’t quite what she’d wanted to hear, and her heart sank. At least, Howard was away on a work trip, so she wouldn’t have to explain why their son had suddenly left home.
Moses came in from the garden, delighted to see her at such an unusually early hour. He leapt up onto the worktop and rubbed his face against her knuckles, her hands propping her head up in despair. She scratched him behind the ears. “Oh, Moses, I’ve done something really . . . awful.” She had. She’d started this by telling that monstrous lie.
40
Wednesday, September 16
CHERRY SAT ON THE SEAT ON THE PLATFORM AT NOTTING HILL TUBEstation and waited for her watch to reach seven minutes past four. Then she stood. It was time to start heading up to the street. Daniel, she knew, was prompt, so it was just late enough to make him hope she was still coming. She bounded up the steps, so as to get just a little out of breath, and then ran out of the entrance. There he was, standing outside an upmarket sandwich establishment, trying not to look as if he might have been stood up.
“Sorry I’m a bit late,” she said, “tube was held up at South Ken,” and he smiled, all doubts melting away.
“No problem.” They stood self-consciously, both smiling awkwardly at each other, feeling like they were on a first date. Strangely, it seemed a bit premature for kisses—even though just over a year ago, they were sleeping together. This afternoon was a movie date, a mutual appreciation for Steven Soderbergh. Once they’d both admitted they were still single, the next most natural thing was to arrange to go out. Cherry had had to think of something low-key to ease them in, something that wouldn’t feel too strange, something innocuous that wouldn’t make him question whether he was doing the right thing. The film was about to leave the theaters and she’d said how it would be a shame to miss it; he agreed,and she said she was thinking of going that afternoon, so if he needed a break from his studies? He didn’t think about it long and they made a plan to meet later. Cherry went home to shower and change. She wanted to look her absolute best, as she had big intentions for the afternoon. They walked along the street toward the Gate cinema; at the curb, he put his hand out protectively as a car came flying around a left turn. Cherry felt a rush of warmth, a fuzzy sense of attachment.
