JEN
I hear Penelope call from the stairs. She’s on her way up. There’s no time to look through the papers inside the file, but it’s clear that she’s been doing some digging into Bex’s background. I think about hiding the documents back where I’d found them, but I’m so angry with her. I’d put up with Penelope’s meddling in the past, but this is a step too far, even for her. I grab the papers and wait for her at the top of the stairs. I’m in the mood to shout down the stairway so that the others can hear, but I force myself to stay silently fuming until I see her.
‘What do you call this?’ I ask, holding the file in the air.
‘Oh, I’m pleased you’ve found that,’ she says as she eases herself up onto the final step and to the top landing. ‘It’s something I want to talk to you about. It doesn’t make for pleasant reading, I’m afraid. A chap I used—’
‘You put a private detective on Bex? How could you?’
‘Thank goodness I did. Now, I can see you’re upset, but—’
‘Upset? I think that’s the understatement of the year.’
‘Jen, let’s go into the study, where we can talk in private. You probably don’t want all this to come out like this.’
‘What?’ I lower my voice. ‘You don’t want Ayesha to know what methods you used to find out about her job. By the way, I didn’t mention what you told me. I didn’t want to stoop to your level.’
Penelope raises her eyebrows and lifts her hands in the air as if to say, ‘That’s too bad – your loss’. She takes a step closer to me. ‘Jen, at the risk of sounding melodramatic I’m afraid you may be in danger.’
‘Are you out of your mind?’
‘Look – the other day when you were here, it was obvious there was something troubling you, even though you denied it. You told me it was the worry of doing the interviews, and although I know there’s a certain level of stress involved, I knew there was something else going on.’
‘What are trying to tell me?’
‘You may have a perfectly innocent explanation for what I found, but what are you doing with a map of the Heath, showing the areas covered and, most importantly, not covered by CCTV?’
The question hits me like a bullet to the stomach.
‘You went through my pockets?’
‘It was only because I knew you weren’t telling me the truth and—’
‘Jesus, Penelope. You’ve really shown your true colours now.’
‘I know, I know, it sounds bad – it is bad. But thank goodness I did. Because there’s something going on you’re not telling me. And my guess is that it’s got something to do with Bex. Listen, some of my best stories have come from nothing more than a hunch. And since you first introduced me to Bex I had an uncomfortable feeling that something wasn’t right. And so I started to do a bit of a background check on her. If you’d only read the file, you’d see that—’
I push the file towards her so that she has no choice but to take it. The action forces Penelope to take a step back, nearer to the top of the marble stairs. She tries to grasp the file, but the movement unbalances her. A wrong step and she could lose her footing. Although I’m cross with her, I don’t want her to hurt herself.
‘Watch out!’ I say and instinctively reach out to stop her from falling.
As I grab hold of her, she stretches out her right arm and steadies herself on the curve of the bannister. But as she does so she drops a couple of pages from the file, pages which flutter down the stairwell.
‘Jesus Christ, Penelope. You had me worried for a second.’
Penelope ignores the fact that I saved her from a nasty fall. But instead of thanking me, she continues to carp on about Bex.
‘How much do you really know about her?’
‘Listen, I don’t know what you think Bex has said or done, but I don’t care. She’s been the best of friends to me. And now is not the time to go and start accusing her of—’
‘I need to warn you about something. You see—’
‘I’ve just had enough of this, Penelope.’
‘And the CCTV map in your pocket?’
‘What about it?’
‘I don’t know what’s going on in your life right now, Jen. But I’m worried that Bex has something to do with it, that she’s trying to control or manipulate you in some way. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it would fit the pattern. You see—’
Just then Julia walks up the top flight of stairs, face flushed, glass in hand. How much of the argument has she heard?
‘Sorry, hope I’m not interrupting, Jen. It’s just that I wondered if you wanted to finish the interview. I’ve just had a call – they need me back at my office soon.’
‘Yes, of course,’ I say. ‘And don’t worry, you’re not interrupting. Penelope was just about to go back downstairs to ask if anyone else needed any more food.’
We stare at each other in a silent battle of wills. Finally, Penelope smiles and tells me that she will talk to me once the interview with Julia is over. She grips the file of documents close to her chest and nods as she passes Julia. In turn, Julia apologises to me for taking so long. She tells me about her craving for cigarettes, a habit she thought she’d kicked years back, and we take our places in the study. I switch on the tape recorder again and we pick up where we left off. She tells me more about the nightmares, about Harry, about how much she misses him, about how the death of her son created an ocean of grief between her and her first husband, but as she talks I realise I’m not listening. All I can think about are Penelope’s words of warning and the possible contents of that green file.
Once it’s over, I lead Julia back downstairs. Everyone has breathed a collective sigh of relief: the interviews are over. The group, their spirits lifted by the champagne, discuss the seemingly never-ending drama of the current political situation, where things seem to change by the hour, but luckily the conversation doesn’t descend into unpleasant Brexit bickering. As Penelope glides around her large kitchen, offering coffee, I’m conscious of her watching me. I know she’s just waiting for everyone to leave so she can talk to me again. But I’m not going to hang around.
I still can’t forgive her for rifling through my coat pocket the other day. So what if she’d found that marked-up map of the Heath? It told her nothing. I could easily be writing a feature about the presence and absence of security in public places. And how could she say those things about Bex? There was no way I’d let my friend call here now. She’s vulnerable enough as it is without an interrogation from Penelope Frasier. I take out my phone and text Bex to say that the interviews are overrunning and it’ll be best if I meet her back at the flat.
I make an effort to go around and thank everyone in person – Jamie, Julia, Ayesha, Steven – and reassure them that what they’ve told me will be handled sensitively. People start to say their goodbyes. I don’t want a scene with Penelope – it would be awful if any of the interviewees saw that – and so I move towards the door. I latch onto Julia and suggest we walk across the Heath together. She’s going back to her office, she tells me, but I go through the motions of leaving with her just so I don’t get drawn back into the house. But just as we near the front door Penelope calls out.
‘Jennifer? I need to talk to you about something. Do you remember?’
‘I’m just leaving with Julia.’
‘Don’t worry about me,’ says Julia. ‘I’m going into town now. You’re very welcome to a lift, but I thought you said you were going—’
‘That’s very kind of you, but I’m meeting a friend,’ I shout back in an overly-polite manner so that Penelope can hear.
‘It won’t take a moment,’ says Penelope. ‘But it is important. It’s something to do with—’
There’s actual distress if not an edge of panic in Penelope’s voice now, but I say I’m sorry, that I’ll call her, and I slip out of the door.