The Dead Dog Day (26 page)

‘Well, we could …' Benjamin said slowly. ‘But we wouldn't have nearly so much fun …'

Nicole snorted, and even Rosie, who was stone-cold sober, started sniggering again.

Cora sighed theatrically. ‘Well, I'm going to the loo. Maybe you could all pull yourselves together while I'm gone?'

‘No, no, I'm coming too!' Nicole banged her glass down on the table, sloshing a healthy quantity of cider onto Benjamin's hand. He exchanged amused glances with Cora.

‘And me. For only the seventeenth time tonight. Got to love pregnancy.' Rosie stood up warily, grabbing Cora's arm to steady herself.

‘Right, it seems we're all going to the ladies, then. Back in a moment, Benj … after we've talked about you, of course!'

‘I'd expect no less. I'll get the drinks in,' he replied, and Cora waved her thanks as she led her friends towards the toilets.

‘So – what do you think?' she said eagerly as soon as the door shut behind them. Rosie dived into a cubicle and slammed it shut, sighing with relief.

‘Well, I like him,' she announced from behind the door. ‘He's not nearly as showbiz and arrogant as he seems on telly. AND he's flipping lovely to look at. Nice one, Cora.'

‘Nicole?' Cora turned to the mirror where Nicole was reapplying lip gloss with a slightly unsteady hand.

‘Yeah, agreed. He's alright.' She staggered backwards slightly, then leaned forward, frowning as she scrutinised her handiwork.

‘Only alright?' Cora reached into her handbag for an eyeliner.

‘Alright is good. I thought he'd be a dick.'

‘What? Did you really? You never said that before!'

The toilet flushed and Rosie emerged. ‘Well, obviously she never said it. But we both thought it a bit, Cora. Just because he's such a big star, and we don't know any telly types apart from you, and you don't count …'

‘Thanks!'

‘And even though we could see he was extremely good looking, and rich and all that, and we were excited that you were dating him, we didn't really think he'd be proper boyfriend material, if you know what I mean …'

‘But we shtand corrected,' Nicole interrupted. ‘Well, Rosie shtands corrected. I'm sort of shwaying corrected at the moment …' She lurched forward, grabbing at Rosie's cardigan to steady herself.

‘Crikey. How many have you
had
?'

‘Erm … about twelfteen I reckon,' Nicole slurred happily.

‘OK, twelfteen isn't actually a word. I think it might be time to get you in a taxi, my love.' Rosie peeled Nicole's hands off her top and turned her round firmly. She tottered to the door and held on to it. Cora laughed and went to her aid.

‘And they say people in the media are big drinkers! Remember that night not long after I started at
Morning Live
, when the senior director was telling us all how he hardly drank any more, and then got up and walked straight into a wall? I'd hate to be at a vet's night out …'

Nicole planted a sloppy kiss on Cora's forehead. ‘Shut up and help me walk.'

As they weaved their way back to their corner, Cora smiled happily to herself. A big test for Benjamin tonight, and he seemed to have passed it with flying colours – that called for several more drinks!

That decision seemed less of a good one when she woke at 2 a.m. with a dry mouth and the beginnings of a pounding headache. Leaving Benjamin snoring gently, she slipped out of bed in search of water and paracetamol. As she headed back to the bedroom clutching a pint glass, she paused for a moment at the lounge window, glancing quickly up and down the quiet road. Suddenly her stomach lurched. Directly opposite her building, leaning against a lamppost and quite clearly visible, stood a figure, bundled up in a Puffa jacket and with a hood pulled around its face. He (if it was a he?) was looking down at his hands, seemingly engrossed in something he was holding – a phone? As Cora stood there, frozen to the spot, the person looked up suddenly, as if aware he was being watched. She caught a glimpse of a pale face – then, like a ghost, the figure melted backwards into the shadows of the long hedge that ran across the front of the apartment block opposite. Shaking, Cora rubbed her eyes and peered into the darkness. She stood there for another full minute, but the street was empty.

BEEP. She nearly jumped out of her skin as her mobile phone sprang into life, sounding as loud as a foghorn in the still, dark room. What the hell? It was 2 a.m.!

Trembling, she located the phone on the dining table and opened her Twitter messages. It was Justin.

@a-friend
@CoraBaxterMLive Cora, I'm deadly serious. Be very, very careful. Trust nobody.

Her heart pounding so fast she felt faint, Cora tapped out a reply.

@CoraBaxterMLive
@a-friend Justin – please tell me what's going on? Be careful of what? I'm scared.

She waited, trying to breathe deeply. Moments later, a reply flashed up.

@a-friend
@CoraBaxterMLive Just watch your back. I can't explain properly, but I will soon. I'll be in touch.

She stared at the screen, trying to work out what was going on. A man – she thought it
was
a man, now – outside her house at 2 a.m. Doing something on a phone. And then, moments later, a message from Justin telling her to be careful. Was that him then, outside? Was he back in the UK? All she'd seen was the pale outline of a face in the moonlight. It could have been him, certainly – the height looked about right. But if so, why was he lurking around, watching her, and then sending these scary warning messages? Or did he somehow know she was being stalked by someone else, and was trying to warn her? But how would he know, if he was abroad? It made no sense.

Shivering with fear and cold, she stumbled back into the bedroom and pressed her body against Benjamin's. He stirred slightly, automatically throwing his arm across her without waking. She entwined her fingers in his, her mind racing. There was no doubt now. She was clearly in some sort of danger. And she had no idea what to do about it.

38

Wednesday 28
^th
February

‘And Cora's at the scene for us now … good morning, Cora!'

The sickly sweet sound of Alice Lomas's TV voice filled Cora's ear. Ugh, she thought.

‘Good morning to you, Alice. Yes I'm here at … at … er …'

Horror suddenly gripped her as her mind went blank. Where on earth was she? Was it Wiltshire? Or Somerset? She had absolutely no idea. None.

‘Er … well I'm somewhere, where last night farmers barricaded the dairy here behind me in protest at falling milk prices …'

She cringed inwardly as she launched into the story, aware that Nathan was grinning widely behind the camera and Rodney's shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter.

As she handed back to the studio, her soundman dropped his boom pole and chortled with delight. Nathan switched the camera off and stepped out from behind it, sniggering, and even Scott popped his head out of the truck with a big smile.

‘Made my morning, that did, Cora!' he announced, and disappeared back inside.

‘Aargh, what an
idiot
I am!' Cora slapped her hands over her face. The stress of what was going on with Justin and her stalker was definitely getting to her.

‘We're in Taunton, Somerset. Just for future reference,' Nathan cackled.

‘Thanks. Can't believe I did that. Alice will be loving it, can you imagine?'

‘Ah, don't worry about her. Come on, let's grab a cuppa.' Rodney slung his arm, today clad in a startling pink anorak, around her shoulders, and led her towards the truck. Nathan trailed behind them, giggling like a teenage girl.

‘What with Cora's memory, and that jacket, Rodney, we look like a right group of nutters today. Where'd you get that – nick it from Katie Price's washing line?'

Despite herself, Cora smirked.

‘I bought it in a rather expensive outdoor pursuits shop, actually,' said Rodney in his most dignified voice.

‘But it's bright
pink
. Why would you buy a
pink
one?'

‘It was on sale. And I'm secure in my sexuality, Nathan.' Rodney sat down primly on his usual space on the floor, and accepted the mug of tea Scott was holding out.

‘I give up, I really do.' Nathan picked up his tea and spooned two large sugars into it.

‘So Cora – what happened? Not like you, luv.' There was genuine concern in Scott's face, despite the smiles, and Cora was touched. He seemed happier today, which made a pleasant change.

‘I'm just a bit tense, I think. You know, with this weird stalker business …'

They all nodded. The boys, like all her friends, now knew about all the strange happenings, although she was more determined than ever now not to mention Justin's unsettling messages to anyone. Trust nobody, he had said. Why had he said that?

‘And still nothing the cops can do?' Rodney's question interrupted her thoughts. He put his mug carefully down on the floor next to him and reached for the packet of chocolate fingers on Scott's shelf.

‘No. Spoke to them again on Monday. Adam said that unless I was actually physically threatened, no crime's been committed. And I haven't been. The stalker hasn't actually done anything. I'm just scared he might, at some point.'

‘Bloody peculiar. I'd just go up and ask him, next time you see him. Probably just an obsessed fan, Cora. If you asked him to stop, go away, he might listen?'

‘Maybe.' Cora fished the teabag out of her Earl Grey. Maybe she should ask Benjamin to have a word, she thought. Her boyfriend had been livid when she'd filled him in about the stalker outside her house, especially as he'd dismissed her previous sightings as paps, or possibly as Cora's imagination. Now, he was vowing to ‘break the guy's neck' if he popped up again. Cora doubted he actually would – Benjamin, for all his strength and size, was more of a gentle giant than a fighter, she suspected. But it was sweet that he'd been so angry.

The boys started chatting among themselves about some intermittent technical problem with the truck, and her thoughts drifted obsessively back to Justin. She was beginning to feel she would actually go mad if she didn't get to the bottom of it all very soon. She was now increasingly of the opinion that Justin somehow knew someone was following her and was trying to warn her. How he knew, she couldn't figure out. But the prospect of her stalker actually
being
Justin seemed ludicrous in the cold light of day. Why would he stalk her himself, and also send her messages warning her to watch her back? Despite everything, he was a good man. Whatever was going on, she knew he couldn't hurt anyone. She just needed to be careful, and maybe whoever it was would get bored and give up …

‘TWO MINUTES, CORA!' The director's voice rumbled through the satellite van's speakers, startling her out of her reverie.

‘Taunton, Somerset. Taunton, Somerset,' she muttered as she clambered out into the cold, Rodney and Nathan hot on her tail. They both laughed, and she joined in. Thank goodness for her job. Nothing like a spot of live telly to distract you from your worries!

Two hours later, with work done for the day, Cora felt a little calmer. She had to get this into perspective, she told herself firmly as she sped homewards. If somebody was watching her, fine. Let them. Plenty of people had stalkers, and few actually got hurt. She refused to let this weirdo upset her.

She pulled out to overtake a lorry, suddenly realising that she was starving. Spotting a Shell garage up ahead, she indicated left and parked on the forecourt, then wandered around the shop, picking up bits and pieces to keep her going. A big bottle of water, an all-day breakfast sandwich packed with bacon, sausage, and boiled egg, an apple, and a bag of cheese and onion crisps – that should do it. She yawned as she handed a tenner to a bored-looking cashier with straw-coloured hair and dodgy blue eyeshadow.

‘There you go, luv – three ten change,' said the cashier, looking up at Cora for the first time. Cora saw a flash of recognition in the woman's eye, but hastily muttered her thanks and scooted out of the shop. The woman stared after her, scratching her bleached head.

Cora unlocked her car and got in, tossing the bag of food on the seat beside her. Despite the fact that the
Morning Live
press officers did little to raise the profile of the on-screen reporters, concentrating their efforts on the studio presenters, the job still meant she got recognised nearly every day. People were mostly nice, but she was too tired to get into a conversation about her work this morning. Yawning, she eased the car back into the traffic, glancing in her rear-view mirror as another car followed her off the forecourt. It was dark blue, navy. She looked again, suddenly remembering the navy car she'd briefly thought had been following her the first day she'd had coffee with Adam and Harry. She slowed her car a little, wanting it to overtake, but the navy car slowed too, staying about three vehicle lengths behind.

Cora squinted in her mirror, trying to see the driver, but the car was too far away. She breathed deeply, trying to quash the anxiety that was once again starting to take a grip. Come on, girl. There are thousands of dark blue cars on the road. You're imagining it, she told herself, and dragged her eyes away from the mirror.

Resolutely staring at the road in front of her, she spotted a parking area up ahead and indicated left. As she pulled in, the navy car slowed a little then sailed past, disappearing out of view within seconds. Cora sighed with relief. What an idiot she was. Grinning to herself, she reached over and pulled the sandwich out of the bag. She was about to take the first bite when a text message flashed onto her phone. She reluctantly put the sandwich down again and retrieved her mobile from the passenger seat. It was from Scott, and a chill ran through Cora as she read it.