Under His Influence

“Yes, you are. I probably shouldn’t tell you this…”

“Another secret?”

“It’s cheeky, I know, but I booked the Hampstead Register Office for three weeks today. I can cancel, of course.”

“Three weeks! Three weeks today!”

“Why wait? Give me one good reason.”

“I…” Anna, breathless, head spinning, tried to pin one down, but all she could think of were trivial objections like needing dress alterations or booking big venues or having a particular seasonal bouquet. It shouldn’t be about the wedding, should it? It should be about John, her and John, making their vows, being together. “I can’t.”

“Good. So you should hand in your notice at work. You don’t need to go there, ever again. Think—no more having to face those idiots you were trying to escape when we met. Freedom.”

Chapter Six

Liam McGlynn saw his job in the telemarketing department of the Recorder as a stopgap. He was marking time until he figured out exactly what it was he wanted to do with his life. The problem was, all the things he wanted to do were far too popular and competitive, and he lacked the killer instinct or the ambition to pursue them. Snowboarding instructor, superstar DJ, film critic—every young dude about town was after the same few gigs. Liam was good-looking, he was personable, he was popular, but he wasn’t bothered. Botherance was for other people, as far as he was concerned. Just give him a pint of premium cider and an Xbox marathon at the end of the day, and he was content with his lot.

A woman as well, perhaps. Getting women was easy enough, but they were so demanding once they were got. He had never found one who would just let him be. What did that Mars-Venus geezer say? Men had to go into their cave. Why didn’t the women get this, especially since they were the only people who had ever read the stupid book? He was pondering this—amidst the regrets of the previous night, during which a wannabe model called Kasha had accused him of commitment phobia after their second date—as he booted up his computer on a sunny Tuesday morning. He was checking his list of “Leads f

or Following Up” when the formidable figure of Mimi Leblanc loomed up behind him.

“Mimi,” he said, greeting her with some complicated finger-origami that ended in a square point at her bosom. “How ya doing, babe?”

“I’m not your babe. And I’m doing badly. You’re going to be a man down here for the next few days.”

“A man down?” Liam peered around the office, thinking vaguely that somebody must have been shot.

“Just had a message from Anna. She’s about to call Worthington to hand in her notice.”

“Oh, no way! Anna’s leaving? Why?”

“Well, she didn’t want to talk to me, for some reason, but according to the message, she’s getting married.”

“She’s fucking what?”

“Yeah. That’s what I said.”

“She hasn’t even got a boyfriend, has she? Oh, that guy she met the other day, I suppose. Not him?”

“Yes. Him.”

Liam allowed a moment for the full import of the information to filter through.

“That’s bad,” was his final verdict.

“I’m glad you said that.” Mimi swooped down so that she was leaning over Liam’s shoulder, her tone urgent and impassioned now. “Because we’re Anna’s friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course.”

“And we aren’t going to abandon her in her hour of need, are we?”

“What…do you mean?” Liam’s gaze came slowly to rest on Mimi.

“I think she’s making the worst mistake of her life. I think he is…There’s something going on. I want to know what it is. I want to fillet out every last little sliver of information on Mr. John Stone until I find the thing that explains all this.”

“Oh. Right.”

“I have those skills, Liam. I’m a journalist. But I might need a little help. A little muscle. Perhaps the odd bit of looking-out. Are you in?”