When in Rome... (25 page)

“It’s not David I’m worried about either,” Candy says, sniffing again.

“Surely you’re not worried about Mike?” It suddenly occurs to me that Candy must know about the whole David–Mike thing. Didn’t Mike say that Candy was the one who had told David how well Mike’s business was doing? Maybe David has also confided in her?

“So what’s the matter then?”

“I’m worried about me. Me and Mike.”

Candy and Mike. What on earth is she talking about?

“Candy, what are you talking about?” I say sharply. Honestly, I’ve been dealing with dodgy mergers and jealous boyfriends, and all Candy is worried about is her friendship with Mike!

“Georgie, don’t you know that Mike’s the father of my baby?” Candy says very softly.

“Sorry, Candy, I think I missed that. I thought you said that Mike is the father of your baby . . .”

Candy is silent for a while. “We’re getting married just as soon as we can,” she continues slowly. “He’s going to meet my parents and everything. Only he’s been acting oddly for the past few weeks and hasn’t come home quite a few nights, and I think he might be having an affair.”

Mike and Candy. I feel like I’ve been winded. Mike and Candy. How? When?

“Candy, what do you mean? Are you serious? Is this your idea of a joke, because if so it really isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking.” Candy is hardly audible.

“But . . . how long? I mean how long have you two . . .”

“Two years.”

Two years. So that means . . . But that’s impossible. That’s when Mike left me for the . . . Oh my God. Candy is the stick insect.

“You . . . you . . .” I am at a loss for words. I am beyond words. All those times she’d told me to leave him, to give him up, she’d wanted him for herself.

“How could you do that to me? I thought you were my friend.”

I’m having problems remembering to breathe in and out. All this time I thought Mike left me for some bimbo, and it was Candy. Candy whose shoulder I used to cry on—or lean on anyway. She’d get me off before I started crying in case I smeared whatever she was wearing.

“Georgie, you wouldn’t understand. I love Mike. I always have. We were meant to be getting together that night you met him—I had the bloody dinner party so I could seduce him. You stole him, and I just took him back, that’s all. And now we’re going to get married and we’re going to be really happy. I just . . . I just don’t know where he is right now . . .” Candy starts sobbing down the phone.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” I’m playing for time. I’m not ready to decide how I feel about all this yet.

“David said not to. He didn’t want you to be upset. He’s never really forgiven Mike for what he did to you, and when he found out I was pregnant, he got really funny. Kept asking if it was definitely Mike’s and stuff. Anyway, he made me promise not to tell you until he’d spoken to you himself. But I thought you might be . . . I thought Mike might be having an affair with you.”

So Davidknew ? Was he trying to protect me, or was he just pissed off because his plans for Mike would now affect Candy, too? I try desperately to organize my thoughts. So, Mike ran off with Candy. Well, that doesn’t sound like the “fling” he told me about. He also told me that he left me because I was too successful and he wanted to prove himself. And I’m supposed to think that Candy, with her great job and flat in Notting Hill isless successful than me? Less intimidating? The total and utter lying bastard. It was all a complete load of bollocks to convince me to help him out. And I fell for it. I actually believed him.

“Candy, I’m sure Mike isn’t having an affair,” I manage to say eventually. “Why don’t you talk to him later?”

“That’s the point. I don’t know if there’s going to be a later. I’ve been looking through his wardrobe and half his clothes are gone.”

Gone?

“Are you at his flat now?” There’s a pause.

“His flat? He doesn’t have a flat. He lives with me.”

“But what about his flat in St. John’s Wood?”

“Georgie, what are you talking about,” says Candy, sounding exasperated. “Why would Mike have a flat in St. John’s Wood? He lives in my flat in Notting Hill.”

Why would he indeed? Something tells me not to press the point on the flat. If Candy doesn’t know about it, there’s probably a good reason for it. And I’m not sure Candy is in any state to find out about it from me.

“Sorry Candy, I thought he said something about having a flat. I must have made a mistake. Look, I’m sure everything’s fine. Why would Mike have an affair?”

“I know, you’re right,” says Candy, her voice still breaking up every so often. “It’s just that he’s out all the time at the moment, and today there was a message on our phone confirming his flight to Malaga tomorrow, and he hasn’t said anything about us going on holiday. And anyway, he’s meant to be coming down to Hampshire this weekend to see Mummy and Daddy. To talk about the wedding and stuff. And Daddy keeps asking me about his stupid business and about his money and . . .” she breaks into sobs again.

“His money?”

“His investments. He’s one of the investors in Mike’s company.”

Of course he is. All Mike’s talk about how difficult it was to raise the money. How could I have believed that he’d be capable of getting investment on his own?

Much as I hate Candy for lying to me, I can’t help feeling sorry for her. And to be honest, I’m almost relieved that she and Mike are together. It means that our little trip to Rome is unlikely ever to get out—Mike would have too much to lose.

“Candy, I’m sure it’s a business trip, or they’ve got the dates wrong or something. Look, everything will be fine.” I want to end this conversation now. I can’t take in any more information, can’t issue any more platitudes.

“Georgie?”

“Yes?”

“You promise nothing happened between you and Mike?”

I pause. I could tell her that Mike was all over me like a rash, that her scheming to get him off me in the first place has backfired. But it wouldn’t make either of us feel much better.

“God no, nothing. We met for a couple of drinks, that’s all. Actually, we didn’t have much to say to each other.”

“Thanks.”

“Okay, look, I’ve got to go now. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” I hang up, take the phone off the hook, and lie back down on the sofa. Poor stupid Candy. And poor stupid me.

I want to speak to David. I want some reassuring words about how everything is going to be fine. I want him to tell me about the whole Mike fiasco so we can laugh about it and put it behind us. I want to bury my head in his shoulder.

I dial his office number and he picks up immediately.

“David Bradley.”

“Hi darling, it’s me. Still at work at this time?”

“Oh, Georgie, hi.” He sounds strained.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Mike and Candy?”

David sighs audibly. “How did you find out?”

“Candy just told me. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“I thought you’d be upset,” he says in a low voice. “I didn’t think you were still in touch with Candy, so I thought it didn’t matter.”

“Did you know that Candy’s father invested in Mike’s company?” As I say the words I realize how stupid I’m being; of course David will know. He probably knows everything about Mike’s company.

“He’s not the only one. Mike convinced half of our old schoolmasters to invest their pensions in his stupid company,” he says bitterly. “Look, I’m sorry Georgie, but I’m going to have to call you back, okay?”

“Okay, but I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me about Candy and M—”

“Georgie,” David interrupts. “I’m in the middle of something here.” His voice sounds strangled. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. Look, I need to talk to you, but not now. Can you meet me for lunch tomorrow? Langhan’s at one?”

I agree and he puts the phone down. David sounded terrible.

Usually he’s so calm and collected. I wonder what could have got him so rattled. He has never spoken so sharply to me; it’s as if he’s cross with me or something. Which is silly—I mean, why would he be? Unless . . . oh God, he must have just found out about me and Mike. Why else would he be so short with me? He probably thought it was a complete coincidence that I was in Rome when he was, and now Mike must have told him after all. Probably because I sent the disk instead of taking it round. My heart pounding, I turn on the television, scan a few channels, and then turn it off again. I need to concentrate. I pour myself a large glass of wine and try to focus. Somehow I’ve got to figure out what to say to David before oneP.M. tomorrow to make everything okay again. But how can I explain away a trip to Rome? How can I admit I’ve been lying to him?

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The menu is in front of David, but his eyes are darting around unable to focus on any one thing. I take his hand. I look around the packed West End restaurant, which is full of men in pin-striped suits talking loudly.

“Is everything okay?”

David looks at me, distracted. I am waiting for him to tell me that he knows all about Rome, all about my flirtation with Mike. I am waiting for him to ask why, so that I can answer and tell him how stupid I was and that I’ll never do it again, ever.

But instead we’re just sitting here in silence, his eyes darting around the room like he thinks he’s being followed or something. I want to reassure him, but what can I say?

“David, look, about the whole Candy and Mike thing. It’s really not a big deal. I know why you didn’t tell me: you were trying to protect me. But I’m so over Mike . . .”

David is looking at me as if I’m completely mad.

“Right, right, of course.”

Is he trying to make me suffer?

“David, what’s the matter?” I’ve never seen him like this. He walks everywhere purposefully, knows exactly what he thinks about everything. He doesn’t do stress or anxiety; he’s always the one who tells other people that everything will be okay.

He focuses on the menu for a minute, as if he’s trying to collect his thoughts, then looks up at me.

“I think I’m about to lose my job,” he says flatly. I’m filled with relief. So that’s all! David doesn’t know about me and Mike; it’s just a work thing. Maybe they’ve found out about the Mike saga being made up. Which is also bad, but not as bad as him finding out about Mike and me. I mean, there are other jobs.

I try to look concerned and surprised. “David, I’m sure it’s not that bad, is it?”

His eyes are darting around again.

“Georgie, if I tell you something, will you promise, and I mean really promise, not to tell another living soul?”

I nod. This is going to be great. David will confide in me, I can be all understanding and supportive and we’ll get through it together. It’ll just make us stronger as a couple. And one day we’ll look back and laugh at how serious it all seemed at the time.

“I’m working on a case that’s, well, a bit close to home. I didn’t want to do it, but I couldn’t get out of it.”

I’m not sure where he is going, but I squeeze his hand and wait for him to continue.

“It’s about Mike . . .” David looks up at me, as if he needs to check my reaction.

Here we go. I nod again, but inside I’m feeling quite excited. Just wait till I tell him that I know all about it and have totally saved his bacon!

“What about Mike?”

“He has been under surveillance for several months.”

David looks down and then up again. Like he can’t focus on anything, even me, for too long.

“He’s been defrauding his company’s investors and the bands he’s signed.”

I can’t help feeling disappointed. I thought David was going to tell me the truth, and instead he’s telling me the false story. Why can’t he just admit that he was jealous and that he screwed up?

“His investors,” I say with a sigh. “You mean Candy’s father?” I ask.

“And the rest. At least Candy’s father can probably afford it. Mike got people to invest their last penny in his bloody record label. He got people who should have known better investing their pensions—theirpensions , for crying out loud. He managed to get about a million together by convincing friends of his parents, friends of my parents, and people we both knew when we were growing up, to give him their last bit of cash.”

“But they’ll get their money back, won’t they? I mean the business is doing really well, isn’t it?” I’m a bit unsettled. This conversation isn’t going the way I thought it would.

“Get it back?” David laughs sarcastically. “Get what back? There’s nothing left. Mike took every last penny out of the company to buy himself a flat, and has been faking invoices to sell to a factoring company. He even got into some sort of money laundering for a gang in Rome. He is in very deep trouble. But not as much trouble as he’s going to be in with me for ripping off my parents’ friends. I am never going to let him get away with that.”

I’m really confused now. And maybe a little bit scared.

“We got a tip-off from one of his employees who gave us this disk with a lot of incriminating evidence on it,” continues David. “Apparently their salary checks have been bouncing, and none of the bands or DJs have been paid for the past four months. The employee in question got sacked soon after. Since then I’ve been gathering evidence . . .”

He looks at me and I can see his forehead twitch with tension. “That’s why I had to go to Rome—I was following Mike. He’s been moving funds into Spain via Italy and Switzerland. He took a whole load of money in with him to Rome, but we don’t know how; his bags were checked at the airport and nothing was found.”

David sighs, and carries on in a deadpan voice. “My contacts there confirmed his links with an organized crime group in Italy. He’s a fucking liability.

“Anyway,” he continues with a sigh, “we had enough evidence to swoop today. We’ve been working with the police and they were all ready to arrest him. Except that I was looking after the vital piece of evidence. And now it’s gone missing.”

Okay, this is not the way it was meant to go. I’m getting a really nasty feeling here. When is David going to admit that the whole thing was made up because he was jealous?