‘It isn’t a threat, it’s a warning!’ Derek snarled.
Annie became aware of people around them looking round, curious eyes, whispers.
‘Just shut up, will you?’ she muttered.
H
e lowered his voice, but wouldn’t give up. ‘I’m desperate, Annie. Have you forgotten how that feels? You were pretty desperate to raise money for that abortion and I came through with the money, didn’t I? I didn’t let you down. If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t be where you are today.’
She thought of her dead baby, of the years of pain and guilt, and tears burnt behind her eyes. Was he asking her for gratitude for all that? She looked at him bitterly.
‘You make me sick! Leave me alone, will you?’ She walked away towards Harriet, who gave her a frown of concern.
‘What’s going on? Were you and Derek having a row?’
‘He was on about money again, and got nasty when I refused to lend him any, or ask you to give him a rise.’
‘Gambling again?’ Harriet grimaced. ‘It’s getting worse, is it? What are we going to do about him? He is popular, can’t argue with that, but if the press pick up on his drinking and gambling that could change.’
Hesitantly Annie asked, ‘Could you wangle him a rise, Harriet?’
‘I’ll think about it. Has he got something on you, Annie?’ Harriet’s eyes were shrewd and very sharp. ‘Could he become a problem? Because if so I’m sure Billy could deal with him. You’re vital to the series. We don’t want a has-been like Derek making waves.’
Annie hesitated. She couldn’t face talking about the baby. The anguish welled up inside her just thinking about it; she turned her head away and closed her eyes, trying to calm herself.
Then she looked back at Harriet. ‘If I need help dealing with Derek, I’ll come to you,’ she promised.
Harriet eyed her, shrugged. ‘OK, do that.’ She raised her voice and yelled. ‘Derek, we’re waiting for you.’
Derek sauntered towards them looking sullen.
‘OK, on your marks,’ Harriet said. She walked off to join the cameraman and the lighting team, who were still moving bits of equipment about to improve the lighting on the set. They were rarely satisfied; if you left them to themselves they would be there for hours, fiddling with equipment.
Derek handed Annie a small white cardboard box. ‘Here, this is for you.’
She took it doubtfully. ‘What is it?’ The box had her name printed on it, but there was no postmark; it had not come through the post.
‘Open it and see.’
‘Is it from you?’
Before he could answer Harriet clapped her hands. ‘Ready, Annie? We’re all ready for you. Come on, we’re running out of time, let’s get going.’
Annie put the box into her handbag and moved to the chalk mark on which she had to stand.
When they were finished with the scene she walked over to Harriet and said, ‘You free this evening?’ And when Harriet nodded, said, ‘Will you come to dinner at my place? I want to talk to you.’
She had to talk to somebody.
Sean was in the bar of the Green Man pub dead on six that evening. Marty was ten minutes late. The dark oak-panelled bar was crowded, but he saw her at once when she came through the swing doors, wearing a black leather coat tightly belted at the waist, stilt-like shiny black high heels, her make-up heavy, her mouth the same predatory red as her long fingernails.
She looked around the bar, Sean waved and she came over, swaying sensuously, watched by half the men in the bar. One or two wolf-whistled. She gave them a smouldering sideways look, a half-smile of encouragement.
I’ve ordered steak and chips, but I thought we’d have a drink first,’ Sean said as she sat down opposite him. Sean pushed a glass of whisky towards her. ‘Whisky OK, or would you rather have something else?’
‘Whisky’s just what I need,’ she said, taking half of it down in one swallow. She put the glass back on the table and unbelted her coat; under it she was wearing a low-cut flame red dress; he could see her freckled pale breasts right down to the nipple. Watching Sean she said, ‘How far from here is your flat?’
‘Half a mile.’