recommended – ‘The Home Hostelries hospitality experience – graceful drinking and gourmet dining – both available in our personally selected character pubs. Special occasion, family celebration or just a friendly drink to unwind at the end of the day – whatever it is you’re looking for, you’ll find it in a Home Hostelries pub.’
But eventually they got to a home page for the company. Carole clicked on the ‘About Us’ tab and found a potted history of Home Hostelries. It was a tale of continuing growth over a relatively short period. Founded in Horsham by two young entrepreneurs who had bought up three West Sussex pubs in the early 1990s, they had continued to add to their portfolio at an accelerating rate. Soon it was not just individual premises they were buying up, but other small chains and breweries. Shona Nuttall had mentioned Snug Pubs and the Foaming Flagon Group, but they were only two of many. Though its headquarters remained in Horsham, the Home Hostelries brand had spread from West Sussex to adjacent counties, and was now expanding into the West Country and East Anglia. New purchases were even taking its reach north of London and into the Midlands. They were also moving away from their base of country pubs and into urban premises (of which presumably the Middy in Fratton was an example). The website left no doubt that Home Hostelries was rapidly becoming one of the country’s largest hospitality chains.
The names of the two successful entrepreneurs from Horsham who had set the whole thing in motion were unfamiliar to the two women crouched over the laptop. “Let’s see if we can find a list of directors somewhere,” said Carole.
It didn’t take long. Again, most of the names meant nothing. One did, though.
Richard Farrelly.
The real name of the comedian Dan Poke.
“Of course, the name under which he wrote his autobiography.” Carole sounded disappointed, illogic-ally feeling that she should have made the connection before. “But how’re we going to contact him? Through his agent?”
“I’ve got his number,” said Jude.
“How on earth have you got that?”
“When I first met him in the Crown and Anchor, he gave cards to me and Zosia.”
“Why?”
“I think the implication was that if either of us fancied him, we should give him a call and he would be generous enough not to kick us out of bed.”
“What?” Carole looked appalled. “Surely no men actually behave like that, do they?”
“Some do. The thick-skinned type who don’t care what people think of them. It’s partly a joke, partly trying it on. A persona they’re trying to project. Particularly in showbiz. There are a lot of women out there who’re…turned on by celebrity.” Jude had been going to use a less decorous phrase, but avoided it out of consideration for Carole’s sensibilities. “And men like that do get their offers taken up just often enough to make it worth their while. Happens a lot in the music world too…Encourages the bad-boy image. You know, there are still groupies out there looking to add a famous name to their list.”
“Are there?” Carole pondered this. “Erm…you’ve never been a groupie, have you?”
“Not exactly,” replied Jude, simply for the devilment of watching her neighbour’s reaction. And maybe adding one more to the manifold mysteries of her past.
Awkwardly, Carole moved the subject on. “Well, I find it most odd. I thought celebrities were meant to guard their privacy, not give out their home phone numbers to all and sundry.”
“The number I’ve got won’t be his landline. It’s probably a mobile he keeps just for the purpose of women ringing him. His totty hotline.”
That drew a predictable wince from Carole.
“Anyway,” Jude announced, “I’m going to ring him. See if he does want to meet.”
“Isn’t that rather dangerous…I mean, if he’s involved in the kind of thing we think he may be involved in?”
“I won’t agree to meet him anywhere except a public place of my choosing. Treat it like it was a blind date, you know, meeting someone through online dating.”
“Have you ever actually done that, Jude?” asked Carole, her eyes owlishly large behind the rimless glasses.
“Not very often,” came the mischievous reply.
“Oh. Well, I think you’ll be taking a big risk meeting Dan Poke – or Richard Farrelly or whatever he’s called. And if it’s sex he’s after, as you suggest, though he may agree to meet you in a pub, he’s not going to want to stay in the pub, is he? He’s going to want to take you back to his place.”
“Carole, I am quite capable of saying ‘No’ to men. It’s something in which I have had a lot of experience.”
“Have you?” said Carole rather wistfully. She had always felt that with most men her looks had said ‘No’ long before any verbal response had become necessary.
“Anyway, come on, Carole, we both want to get to the bottom of what’s been going on. We want to find out if there really has been an organized campaign of harassment against the Cat and Fiddle and the Crown and Anchor. We also want to know who killed Ray and Viggo. And do we have any other leads at the moment apart from talking to Dan Poke?”
Carole was forced to concede that they didn’t.
“Then I’ll call him.”
“Yes. Erm…Jude, you don’t think you should suggest that I should come and meet him as well, do you?”
“For the kind of encounter he’s envisaging, I don’t think he’d want a gooseberry there, no.”
Carole Seddon blushed.
¦
Dan Poke didn’t answer the phone, but he rang back later in response to the message. Yes, he remembered Jude. If she wanted to meet up with him – “That could be quite enjoyable.” He was starting ‘a little mini-tour of gigs’ on the Wednesday, but he would be free the next evening. He’d got a flat at Notting Hill. If she got out of the tube station and went along Pembridge Road –
Jude interrupted him and suggested they meet in a bar she knew just near the tube station. He came up with predictable lines about how difficult he found being in public places, how ordinary people regarded celebrities as common property. Jude insisted; they would meet in the bar or not at all. Dan Poke seemed eventually to be amused by what he took as a show of coyness on her part, but he did agree to meet her there at six-thirty the following evening.
As soon as she had finished that call, she rang through to the bar which was to be their rendezvous. It was a place she had often frequented in the company of an actor with whom she’d lived in Notting Hill for a couple of years. She was relieved when the phone was answered by a voice she recognized. Yes, it was Garcia, and he was still running the place. And of course he remembered Jude. Was she still with…? Silly man, said Garcia, always was rather immature, didn’t realize what he was giving up.
It would be wonderful to see her the following evening. Jude was always welcome at Garcia’s place. And yes, though they weren’t the same individuals, his bouncers were as tough as they had ever been.
Jude put the phone down, confident that her security was in place for the following evening’s meeting.
? The Poisoning in the Pub ?
Thirty-Four
Jude was going to catch the first cheap train up to Victoria the next morning. When she heard this plan, Carole had objected, “But you’re not meeting him till the evening.”
“No, but there’s some shopping I want to do.”
“What? Clothes?” In Carole’s view, it wouldn’t hurt if her neighbour bought some different clothes, to make herself look a bit less of a hippy. Though, mind you, she didn’t have to go up to London to do that. The Marks
But no, Jude said it wasn’t clothes. What then? It was with an impish grin that Jude revealed that there were some shops round Covent Garden she wanted to look at. They specialized in crystals.
