Scarlett shrugged and turned away from the rail. ‘Let’s go and play bingo.’ I followed her back down the pier to a bingo stall. ‘She knew she was on borrowed time anyway. After I got my diagnosis, there was nothing for her to do in terms of impersonating me. I told her if I made it out the other side of the treatment, I’d put it about that I was changing my lifestyle to stay healthy. So the writing was on the wall.’ We sat down on the padded vinyl stools and the stallholder immediately recognised Scarlett. There was the usual flurry of autographs and shots with camera phones before we could settle down for a game of bingo.
‘Did Leanne go quietly in the end?’ I said when we were alone again.
‘Yeah, she knew she’d crossed a line. I think she quite fancies the weather, to be honest. And where she is, it’s nice. It’s not like
‘So, big changes all round.’
As we spoke, we were cancelling the numbers being called. I was always a beat behind, but Scarlett was sharp as a gull’s beak, clicking off the numbers on her card the second they were announced. ‘Yeah,’ she said without a pause in her play. ‘The only thing that doesn’t change is the paparazzi always on my case. I thought the brand-new me would have been too boring for them. But they can’t wait for me to screw up. You’d think I was Princess Diana the way they chase me around. It’s totally out of hand.’
‘I couldn’t handle it,’ I admitted.
Scarlett grinned. ‘Yeah, but you’re a ghost.’ Then she grew serious again. ‘I had that Madison Owen on the show the other day. You know, that Welsh kid that got her West End start from
I snorted incredulously. ‘You’re kidding? How could anybody do that? And why would they want to? It’s not like she’s a big star or anything.’
Scarlett let her sunglasses slide down her nose and gave me a knowing look over the rim. ‘She’s not. But the geezer she’s having an affair with is.’
‘Really? Who?’
She pushed her glasses up and turned down the corners of her mouth. ‘She wouldn’t tell me. Only that he’s a household name who makes a mega deal out of being the perfect family man. Anyway, she says that she hasn’t told a living soul who he is. Not even her best mate. And obviously the boyfriend’s not talking. They were supposed to get together last weekend. He’d borrowed a cottage in the Cotswolds from a mate of his. She was all set to meet him there. Except, when she arrives, there’s a car parked in the lane. And she recognises the guy in the passenger seat because she’d seen him interviewing one of the judges on that stupid bloody TV talent show she won. She puts her foot down and shoots past. Only when she drives round the bend, she sees another guy in a field with a long lens pointing back towards the cottage. So she had to high-tail it out of there and text the boyfriend to tell him they were busted.’
‘Maybe they were following the boyfriend? Maybe they’d had a tip-off?’
‘She says he wasn’t followed. He’s sure about that. He’s paranoid because of his wife and his reputation. Maddie says the only way anyone could have known about the arrangement was if somebody listened to her voicemail messages.’
It sounded to me like a tale that had the makings of an urban myth. Another case of a C-list celebrity who overestimated her importance. With my professional hat on, I’d heard a lot about the media’s dirty tricks – eavesdropping on mobile phone calls with a scanner, for example – but this was a new one on me. I was dubious, to say the least. And not just because it would be illegal. Mostly I couldn’t believe anyone could be arsed to hack the voicemail of people like Madison Owen on the off-chance of finding something more significant than, ‘Hi, it’s me, call me back when you get the chance.’
‘I bet there’s another explanation,’ I said. ‘This all sounds too far-fetched.’
‘House!’ Scarlett waved her hand in the air, all thoughts of invasion of privacy gone now she’d won.
The stallholder bustled over, delighted that she’d got a celebrity winner. ‘You’re supposed to get anything on the bottom shelf,’ she said confidentially after she’d checked Scarlett’s card. ‘But since it’s you, go on and have the pick of the stall. You deserve a treat after what you’ve been through.’
Scarlett gave her the hundred-watt smile. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ she said. ‘You’ve got a living to make. I’ll take one of those dolphins down the bottom. For my boy,’ she added as the stallholder handed her a small stuffed toy in white and royal blue. ‘He loves dolphins. He went swimming with them last year in the Bahamas.’
We slid off the stools and headed back into town. ‘I’ve had a brilliant time,’ she said when we turned into my street. ‘Next time, I’ll bring Jimmy again. When are you coming up to town again?’
I had an editorial meeting with a publisher the following week so we arranged to have dinner afterwards. I was glad that things seemed to be settling into an easy routine between us and when the day of our dinner rolled around, I made sure the meeting didn’t overrun. Turning down the offer of a drink I knew would roll into the early evening, I took the tube to Hyde Park Corner and walked up Park Lane to the Dorchester. Once Scarlett had discovered there was such a thing as posh Chinese food, there had been no stopping her. Tonight, we had reservations at China Tang in the Dorchester where the food makes me want to lay my head on the table and weep. In the best possible way. I was already salivating at the thought of it. Unusually, everything had run according to time and I was half an hour early for our reservation. So I took a deep breath, mentally checked my bank balance and walked into the cocktail bar. There’s a section of the bar that’s cordoned off for private parties and I glanced in as I walked down the steps.
I nearly missed my footing, only just saving myself from a mortifying sprawl at the feet of the cocktail waiter. Scarlett was raising a glass of fizz to her lips and smiling at the person opposite her. None other than Dr Simon Graham, clutching the matching glass and gazing into Scarlett’s eyes in an extremely non-medical way.
I carried on all the way down the bar and straight out the street door, much to the confusion of the waiter. I needed a drink, but definitely not in the Dorchester cocktail bar. I crossed the forecourt and headed round the corner to the tall redbrick building that houses the University Women’s Club. It’s the only women-only members club in the country and it’s my haven in central London. I first joined when I moved there and needed somewhere other than my horrible flat in Stepney to have meetings. Maggie recommended it and I was nervous at the thought of posh women with grand voices and even grander degrees looking down on me. But I couldn’t have been more wrong. I warmed to it the first time I crossed the threshold and it’s been my home from home in London ever since.
As soon as I walked in, I could feel my shoulders dropping in relief. I found a quiet corner and subsided in a comfortable wing chair with a Pimm’s. The first welcome mouthful did the trick of calming me down.
Which indicated that, whatever I thought I’d seen, I’d been mistaken. It was nothing more than two friends having a quiet drink together, enjoying each other’s company. I was her dinner date, after all. It wasn’t like they were making a night of it. What was wrong with me? Was I jealous of Scarlett having other friends? How old was I, for heaven’s sake?
I took my time over my drink, then headed back to the hotel, walking into the restaurant precisely on time. Scarlett was already at the table, waving to me as I approached. She stood up to hug me in a waft of Scarlett Smile. ‘Great to see you, you look fab, is that a new dress?’ It came out in a rush and we both burst out laughing. ‘Anyone would think we hadn’t seen each other for months,’ she said, settling back into her seat. ‘Speaking of not seeing people for ages, guess who I just ran into?’
I shook my head, feeling irrationally relieved. ‘No idea. That dishy cop?’
‘Nick the Greek? You’re blushing, Steph. You totally need to get stuck in there, girl. Give him a call.’
‘I don’t think so. Come on then, tell me who you bumped into.’
‘Simon. Simon Graham. He was coming out as I was coming in, we chased each other round the revolving doors a couple of times. The doormen looked totally offended. Like, you don’t do that kind of thing here.’ She giggled. ‘Anyway, he had time for a quick drink. I tried to persuade him to stay and have dinner with us, but he’s meeting friends.’
‘Small world.’
