Private Lives Part 30

Anna laughed. She would be sad to see Sid leave. She hadn't been at Donovan Pierce long enough to really bond with the girl, but she was one of the few employees who seemed human. Maybe that was why they were letting her go.

'I'm going in to get a drink. You want anything?'

Sid shook her head.

'I think I'll stay out here in the sun for a while. Make the most of it.'

Anna walked back inside, her heels tapping on the marble floor. She put a few coins into the vending machine and sat down on a bench in the atrium, gazing up at the sculptures and paintings, enjoying the calm.

'Anna Kennedy? Not working? Never thought I'd see the day.'

She looked up and frowned when she saw Blake Stanhope.

'Back in court, Blake? Who have you st.i.tched up this time?'

Blake pulled a look of mock hurt. 'Don't take that tone with me. I thought we were friends.'

'I wouldn't go that far.'

'Come on, Anna,' he said, more evenly. 'We're in the same game, aren't we?'

'Blake, you belong in jail.'

His shoulders slumped.

'I know you think I'm some sort of unprincipled rat, and maybe I have my moments, but believe me when I say I didn't leak that story. And I don't appreciate you quizzing every editor in town asking them if I shared the Sam Charles story with them.'

'You heard about that?' Maybe her discreet enquiries weren't so discreet.

He nodded.

Anna looked at him, trying to read his face.

'Well, someone did, and we only have two in the line-up: you and that girl Katie Grey. Or maybe someone in your office.'

Blake paused, looking up at the dark portrait of a rather forbidding-looking judge in ceremonial dress.

'It was no one in my office,' he said defensively. 'I was the only one who knew about it. As for Katie ... She's not a bad girl. Just a frustrated one. It's often the way with kiss-and-tell girls. It's not just about the money. Someone they slept with makes a heap of promises to them and then doesn't deliver. Speaking out is their way of las.h.i.+ng out. Katie felt rejected, hurt. But she understood the injunction had gagged her, and she wasn't going to break the law.'

'You all sound so moral.'

He took a seat beside her.

'Have you considered phone hacking?'

She had.

'We take every precaution. Our phones are swept regularly. We avoid leaving voicemail messages. Don't you?'

'Never been stung yet.'

'To your knowledge.'

'I'm careful. Besides, do you think the papers are going to take the risk of phone tapping after the last scandal?'

She downed her drink, deep in thought.

Silence rattled between them.

'Have you ever considered that the leak might have come from your end?' he said finally.

'Don't be ridiculous.'

'You don't think it's possible? One of Sam's staff, a driver, a PA? Or someone at your office. A temp. A cleaner.'

'Don't make ridiculous accusations just to get yourself off the hook.'

'For a smart girl, you're very trusting,' he said casually.

For a second Anna thought about Sid. Struggling for cash, with a job about to end. Or Josh, Sam's PA. Sam was convinced his young a.s.sistant didn't know the details of his indiscretions, but Josh had that smart competence that suggested he knew everything.

'I trust everyone on our team one hundred per cent,' she said defensively. 'We run a tight s.h.i.+p.'

'Just a little food for thought, some free advice between old friends,' said Blake playfully. 'You lawyers do rather think in straight lines, don't you? Maybe it's time to take off the blinkers. Who would benefit from leaking the Sam and Katie s.e.x story, if it wasn't Katie and it wasn't me?'

30

He was already there when Anna arrived, sitting alone at a table facing the street. The front windows of the bistro had been folded back to the evening air and she paused at the corner watching him, a gla.s.s of red wine in front of him, making a big show of tapping away at his BlackBerry; he was always so concerned about appearances, desperate to show he was busy and in demand. They had been here together once before she wondered if he remembered. Probably not; he would never have agreed to the meeting here, it would have been too loaded and intimate.

She looked at his face, so familiar yet so distant. He was tanned, his blond hair lighter than she remembered, his eyes more blue. It was strange how people could be such a big part of your life, how you could become accustomed to their habits and tics, their every crease and wrinkle like your own. And then, just like that, they could slip away completely.

'Anna,' he said, standing up as she walked over.

'How are you, Andy?' she said, sitting down, allowing him to push her chair in. In the early days, she had been charmed by his little old-world customs. She'd met plenty of people from Andrew's background at law school wealthy parents, public school, Oxbridge but none with his effortless polish. And yet he had been so normal in many ways: he liked football, Britpop, wore his s.h.i.+rts untucked. But every now and then there was a little reminder of the privileged upbringing a world away from the c.u.mbrian pub she had been brought up in.

The waiter brought her a gla.s.s and Andy poured her some wine from the open bottle. She noticed the menu face down on the table.

'You're not eating?'

He shook his head.

'Not hungry. Are you?'

'Not really,' she lied. She was actually starving, having been stuck in court all day, but Andy was clearly telling her he had no intention of staying longer than he had to.

'So how's things?' he said, carefully rearranging his two forks on the tablecloth.

'Don't you read the papers?' she said. It was meant to be a joke, but came out wrong.

He glanced at her.

'Of course. Always nice to see my fiancee half drowned. Honestly, Anna, what was all that c.r.a.p at the spa about?'

'If you ask me, she got off pretty lightly,' she said, standing her ground. 'I'm amazed the media haven't found out that we haven't spoken for two years. "Cosy cake-maker is home-wrecker" type thing.'

She'd had this conversation with Andy in her head a hundred times since they had split up their first proper sit-down discussion and she'd always been witty and cutting and amazingly beautiful, not bitter and sarcastic like this.

'Look, Anna, if you've just asked me here to rake over all that again, I've got better things to do with my time.'

'I don't want that either.'

She was being honest. She'd seen him a handful of times since That Night; she'd tried hard to avoid him, but it was difficult to do so in the worlds in which they moved. It was always awkward, but sitting opposite him today she felt strangely unmoved.

'Does she know we're meeting?' she asked.

He looked away.

'No.'

Anna felt a surge of triumph. Childish, pathetic even, but it made her feel better.

'I didn't know whether I should tell her,' said Andy. 'Although I've hardly seen her all week. She's been filming.'

'At the nurseries?'

'No, she was finding all that travelling too difficult. It's filmed in Notting Hill now.'

'That well-known rural idyl.'

He laughed. 'They're shooting in the most rustic central London location house they could find. Poured concrete floors, Aga, imported Provencal knick-knacks, you know the sort of thing.'

'Which will of course be pa.s.sed off as your own?'

'Well I wasn't having a b.l.o.o.d.y camera crew round at our place.'

Our place. Andrew and Anna had never had their own place. He had his bachelor pad in trendy Wapping. Sterile and manly, all black leather and chrome with damp towels left on the bathroom floor. Anna had tried to make her mark, but she was swimming against the tide, and with their long work hours, it was so much easier to go back to their respective homes. Another sign she had missed.

He sipped his wine.

'So what's this favour you need?'

'It's for a case I'm working on.'

'The Balon case? Did he get funded by those mobsters like they're saying?'

'As if I'd tell you, even if I did know.'

'You always were so secretive.'

'Secretive? Andy, this is my job. I get paid to keep secrets. And you're a journalist.'

'I was your partner, wasn't that more important?'

'You tell me,' she said, meeting his gaze.

It was no surprise to Anna that Andrew was now a.s.sociate editor at The Chronicle The Chronicle, effectively number three, within striking distance of the top job. He'd risen effortlessly from news reporter to business editor to his current position. Not bad for someone not yet thirty-five. They'd met at the Islington home of a senior BBC news executive. It had been his daughter's party, a law school friend of Anna's, while Andrew was a family friend. Anna had felt so grown up talking to a serious journalist in this high-ceilinged room, full of books and pictures, the sort of place she wanted for herself. They'd talked for hours, getting drunker and drunker on the fruit punch, until suddenly he'd taken her hand and pulled her outside, kissing her in the doorway of that tall white Georgian house. Their jobs had provided common ground; both workaholics and obsessed with current affairs. But the nature of her work, her clients' indiscretions to have to keep quiet, her battles against the papers, built a Chinese wall between them that had often made Andrew feel resentful.

'This isn't about Balon. It's about Gilbert Bryce, the MP. I need to talk to him.'

'What do you want to meet Gilbert for?' His expression clouded. Gilbert Bryce was a well-known womaniser but Anna didn't flatter herself it was jealousy.

'It's something I'm working on for a client. I can't tell you.' She had no idea how interested The Chronicle The Chronicle would be in the story of a lingerie model's death. Probably not very. They didn't usually go for stories about the Chinawhite set at the broadsheets. would be in the story of a lingerie model's death. Probably not very. They didn't usually go for stories about the Chinawhite set at the broadsheets.

'Of course not,' he said, not hiding his exasperation.

'Please, Andy, this could be important.'

'I'm not asking for any gory details, I just want to know what you want to speak to him about.'

'I can't tell you,' she said firmly.

'Then I can't introduce you. Gilbert is a contact; I have a relations.h.i.+p with these people. I can't just fix you two up without knowing what it's about.'

'Can't you? I'd have thought it was the least you could do.'

'Oh Anna ...' he said, shaking his head just enough to register his disappointment.

'Sophie told me how long you'd been having an affair. Before I caught you. Not quite the once or twice you claimed, was it?'

He looked down. She was sure she saw him colour with shame.

'What point was there in telling you the truth?'

'You made me look a fool by sleeping with Sophie. But you kept on making me look like a fool when you didn't tell me the truth.'

She hated the thought of Sophie and Andrew pitying her with the little secret they had carried between them. 'You owe me, Andy.'

'If I introduce you to Gilbert, will you come to the wedding?'

'Unbelievable,' she said scornfully.

'I want you to come to our wedding.' He shrugged. 'Why not? I do you a favour, you do us one.'

'Forget it,' she said taking a five-pound note out of her purse to pay for her drink. 'I thought you might want to do the decent thing and help me, I thought you might think you owed me something for the time we spent together at least, but obviously not.'