The One You Love (33 page)

‘Maybe he’s watching us right now.’ Will moved over to the window and looked down at the street.

‘Don’t,’ Emma said. ‘It gives me the creeps.’

‘It’s not the same as before though,’ Will said. ‘This guy isn’t crazy, like Stephen Myers – he’s just doing his job.’

‘That’s what Guy Roberts said, but it’s still stalking, whatever the motivation.’

‘True,’ agreed Will. ‘And you still want to meet this man?’

‘Yes. The way I see it, I haven’t got a choice.’

***

‘This is the house,’ Emma said, standing in front of the door.

They had travelled across London, over the river. Ironically, it wasn’t far from Stuart’s flat, although the environment was very different – the wealth showed in the selection of executive cars parked in and around the streets, and the newly built homes contrasted with the grim dwellings just a few streets away.

‘One last chance to change your mind,’ Will said.

Emma knocked.

‘Can I help?’ A young, pretty woman answered. She was carrying a tiny baby over her shoulder and patted his back as she stood there, rocking gently.

‘We’re here to see David,’ Emma said.

‘You’re a client?’

‘Yes,’ Emma lied.

‘Hang on a minute,’ she said, turning around and shouting upstairs. ‘David, door for you.’

They heard a toilet flushing and then the sound of someone bounding down the stairs.

When David Sherborn appeared, sporting a designer shirt, Emma had to catch her breath.

It was Eric.

60

‘I built this studio onto the back of the house, two years ago,’ David Sherborn said, shepherding them in through the door, around the back of the house. ‘Thought that it would be nice to be able to work from home, but not be at home, if you know what I mean.’

Emma stepped inside onto the wooden flooring. The studio was nicely done, with each wall decorated with stunning photographs, some of panoramic mountain views, and others black-and-white art-house style close ups of faces. In the centre of the room were a stylish black leather sofa and a glass table with several large photo albums. The room smelt of perfume.

‘Please, take a seat,’ said David. ‘Can I get you anything to drink?’

‘I’m okay,’ Emma said, sitting down.

‘Me too,’ Will said, taking a seat next to her.

The man nodded, before pulling up a stool.

‘This was always my dream,’ he said, looking around the room. ‘My dad bought me a camera when I was ten, and ever since that’s all I ever wanted to do. It’s not a bad life either. That photo over there,’ he said, gesturing towards a photo of a desert landscape, drenched in red, ‘was taken in Australia. I got paid to fly out over there, working for the Australian Tourist Commission. They were trying to promote the country in the UK and wanted an English photographer.’

‘It’s beautiful,’ Emma said, turning back to look at him. He looked older now, dressed smartly, and talking more eloquently and authoritatively. Despite his baby face, she’d now place him at least six or seven years older than her original estimate. ‘This is all a bit different from your more recent work.’

‘Yes,’ David said, looking distinctly uncomfortable. ‘That Australian trip seems like a long time ago now. Things have changed since then.’

‘You’re now spying on people,’ Emma said. ‘And selling your photos to downmarket newspapers.’

‘I am,’ he said, looking her in the eye. ‘That’s exactly what I’m doing. I never dreamt that I ever would, but sometimes things don’t turn out the way you planned, do they?’

‘No. Sometimes they don’t.’

‘I fell into it, really,’ David continued. ‘My other work started drying up, I was getting fewer and fewer commissions, and suddenly I was struggling to pay the mortgage on this. I had taken out a hefty loan to build this studio. Then Claire, my wife, found out she was pregnant, and I knew that I had to do something. I met a guy at a conference and he suggested celebrity photojournalism. It’s not easy, but it can pay well if you get the right photo.’

‘Like the photo of Stuart being carried into an ambulance?’

David averted his gaze. ‘I’m not particularly proud of some of the things I do. I know it sounds like a copout, but this is all for my family.’

‘You pretended to be someone you’re not,’ Emma pressed. ‘You lied to me, just to get photographs.’

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘All that business about you being warned off by Dan, it was all a lie. When you were crying outside the museum?’

‘It was all an act. I played the part of Eric so that I could get close to you. I’m sorry.’

‘You’re just sorry you got found out.’

‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘Maybe I’m just embarrassed of what I do. Not many people know that I do this – not even Claire. She thinks the money is still coming in from my preferred work.’

‘I can’t say I’m happy about what you’ve done,’ Emma said, ‘but that’s not why we’re here. We were hoping you might be able to help.’

‘Go on,’ he said.

‘You obviously know all about our situation. You know that Stuart died, and that they still haven’t found my fiancé.’

‘Yes. I know. I hope they find him.’

‘But you’ve not just been following me,’ Emma said. ‘You must have been following Stuart too – otherwise you wouldn’t have got those photographs outside his flat.’

‘I was following him that day, yes,’ he confirmed. ‘But I swear, I didn’t realise he was going to do what he did.’

‘Did you follow Stuart a lot?’

‘On occasions. Mostly when he was with you, though.’

‘Did you see him do anything suspicious?’ Emma said. ‘Did you see him go anywhere? Somewhere he might have been keeping Dan?’

‘I’m really sorry, Emma. I didn’t. If I had, I would have gone straight to the police. I’m not that much of a mercenary.’

‘Anything?’ Emma tried. ‘It could be something that seemed innocuous at the time but might be really important. It could help us find Dan.’

‘I saw nothing suspicious,’ he reaffirmed. ‘I’d love to help, I really would. At least then I might start feeling a little better about myself. I didn’t want to get into this situation. I wish I’d never been asked to…’

He stopped dead and the silence hung in the air.

‘You were asked to follow me and take those photos,’ Emma stated. ‘That’s what you were about to say, isn’t it?’

He looked away.

‘Who asked you to do this?’ Emma pressed. ‘Please, tell me. It could be important.’

‘It isn’t. It won’t help you find your fiancé.’

‘You don’t know that,’ said Emma, trying to control her anger and frustration.

‘I can’t tell you. I think you’d better go.’

‘Tell me, or I’ll tell your wife exactly how you earn your money.’

‘It won’t help you, knowing the name,’ he insisted.

‘I’ll tell her,’ Emma said again.

‘She’ll understand.’ But he didn’t sound completely convinced. ‘She’ll understand why I do what I do.’

‘She probably will.’

David pressed his hands around his nose, closing his eyes. ‘Okay. If I tell you, promise you won’t tell my wife.’

‘I promise.’

He hunched forward, playing with his bottom lip. ‘Oh, sod it,’ he said, taking a breath. ‘I was commissioned to do this – to follow you and take pictures.’

‘Go on,’ Emma said.

‘You know him,’ he said. ‘It was Guy Roberts.’

61

‘Why did you do it?’ Emma said, as Guy had barely had a chance to open the front door.

Guy looked at Emma and then at Will before walking back into the house, leaving the door ajar as an invitation. They followed him through into the lounge.

‘I can understand why you’re angry,’ said Guy, who had obviously been pre-warned by David Sherborn, ‘but just hear me out.’

‘You paid that man to follow me, take photographs and sell them to the newspapers,’ Emma said. ‘You exploited this whole situation, for money. How much did you get for those photographs?’

‘Nothing,’ Guy replied. ‘I didn’t receive a single penny for any of them.’

‘You expect me to believe that,’ Emma responded.

‘You can believe whatever you want to believe, Emma,’ Guy said, taking a more confrontational tone. ‘But the only money paid for those photographs went straight to David Sherborn – not to me.’

‘Then why? Why commission him to do it?’

‘You really don’t know much about the entertainment business, do you?’ Guy smiled wryly.

‘I don’t understand,’ Emma said.

‘The movie business, Emma, is a fickle industry. In my career I’ve been involved in countless films – some successes, some failures. Often the films you think will really do well just don’t. Sometimes it works like that.’

‘I still don’t see what this has got to do with everything.’

‘What I’m trying to say, is that making a movie is a risky business. As an actress or an actor, being involved in a commercial flop is, how should I say it? Undesirable. But they can just move on, put it down to a bad decision on their part. For the investors though, it’s more serious: a lot more serious. They have the financial risk.’

‘I understand all that, but…’

‘As an investor,’ Guy interrupted, ‘they want to see their movie generate interest. And I don’t just mean interest when it opens to hopefully rave reviews. Often it’s too late by that stage. The big Hollywood studios trail their films up to a year in advance. The stars do the chat shows all around the world, generating interest in the movie well before the release date. The studios know what they’re doing – they throw a lot of money at generating this interest. They can. But people like us, making a movie on a shoestring budget, can’t afford to do even a quarter as much as that. We have to be more creative in how we generate interest in our movie. Now are you beginning to understand?’

‘It was all to publicise the movie,’ Emma stated. ‘To generate interest in the film, even before we had started shooting.’

‘Yes,’ Guy said. ‘That’s exactly it. And I must say, the strategy was more effective than we hoped for.’

‘We?’ queried Emma.

‘The investors, the director, producer, me,’ he expanded. ‘Everyone is very happy at the way things have gone.’

Emma shook her head in disbelief. ‘You exploited us all. My fiancé might be dead, Stuart is dead, and all you could think about was getting column inches in a newspaper?’

‘Try to understand things from our perspective, Emma.’

‘You’re unbelievable.’

‘This is the life you’d better get used to. If you want all the rewards that come with being an actor, then you’ll have to accept that sacrifices have to be made.’

‘When you found out Stuart was dead, were you really sorry?’ Emma asked. ‘Or did you just see it as another headline?’

‘That’s not fair,’ said Guy, wagging a finger at her. ‘The last thing I wanted was for that to happen.’

‘You said he called you just before he died,’ Emma said. ‘Did he ask for help? Did you ignore him and let him kill himself?’

‘No,’ Guy said. ‘I told you that I didn’t know.’

‘And this morning, when you told me that you thought Stuart hadn’t taken Dan – is that just a way of keeping the story going? You make out that someone is still out there, needing to be caught, when all along Stuart did do it.’

‘I truly believe that Stuart did not take your fiancé.’

‘It suits your purpose,’ Emma said accusingly.

‘You’d better leave,’ Guy said, ‘before you say something that might jeopardise your big break.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Emma replied, understanding the threat. ‘I don’t want anything else to do with your film. I’ve got more important things to think about. C’mon,’ she said, turning to Will, who looked quite stunned. ‘Let’s go.’

***

‘You sure you did the right thing back there?’ Will asked, as they walked back towards the tube.

‘Yeah,’ Emma replied. ‘I’m sure.’

‘But you’ve wanted to be in a film ever since I can remember.’

‘I know. But I don’t regret what I just did. Sometimes you just have to do what you think is right, and to hell with the consequences.’

Will smiled. ‘You know, Em,’ he said, putting an arm around her, ‘I really admire you. I wish I could be as brave.’

‘Hey, you’re here supporting me,’ Emma said. ‘You shouldn’t put yourself down all the time.’

‘Maybe.’

Emma’s mobile rang just as they entered the tube station – the number was coming up as unrecognised. She doubled back away from the ticket machines and headed back outside, with Will in tow. ‘Hello?’

‘Em, it’s me, Richard.’ His voice was shaking with emotion.