Behaving Badly Read online

  ‘Thank you,’ I managed to say.

  ‘I must say, though, I think you were very brave,’ she went on, with another sip of champagne.

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Well,’ she said, her eyes widening. ‘He told me about the things you used to get up to.’ I stared at her, my heart banging against my ribcage. ‘When you were in Brighton. He said you were quite…naughty,’ she grinned. ‘Mind you, I think spraying graffiti on a fur shop’s rather heroic, actually. Good for you, Miranda! I wish I’d had the guts to do that kind of thing, but my father would’ve cut me off like a shot!’

  ‘Caroline—’ I said.

  ‘Oh, there you are, Miranda!’ It was David. ‘Sorry about that.’ He peered at me. ‘Are you all right? You look rather flushed. I guess it is a bit claustrophobic in here. We’ll go and eat now. He suddenly noticed Caroline. ‘Hi, I’m David White,’ he said, extending his hand. I saw her glance at his scars, then she looked back at his face.

  ‘I’m Caroline Mulholland,’ she replied with a smile. ‘Very nice to meet you. Anyway, it was lovely to see you, Miranda. I really hope we meet again.’ I gave her a faint smile.

  ‘Shall we go then?’ David asked.

  I nodded. ‘Goodbye, Caroline,’ I managed to say.

  ‘Who was that?’ David enquired as we left the gallery. It’s the wife of the man who’s responsible for your disfigurement. ‘The name “Mulholland” rings bells with me for some reason,’ he added, as we turned right.

  ‘Oh, she’s just a client of mine.’

  ‘Isn’t there a politician called Mulholland?’

  ‘Yes, I…think there is. But she had a very difficult… Weimaraner, you see.’

  ‘What was the problem?’

  ‘It was a total bastard.’

  ‘It was what?’

  ‘I mean…to her other dogs. It was very…domineering, and basically it needed to have its status reduced.’

  ‘Did it work?’

  ‘Apparently it did. She was just telling me about it.’

  As we crossed Charing Cross Road, I worked out why Jimmy had told Caroline what he had. Yes, she had seen us talking at the house, and yes, she must have wondered—especially as she’d had no idea we’d ever met. But what Jimmy had done wasn’t just to cover himself against her spousal suspicions. He had launched a pre-emptive strike. By telling her that I’d been ‘infatuated’ with him, and that I’d been ‘naughty’—he’d effectively discredited me, in case I blabbed. His pretence that he’d been protecting me from embarrassment by not telling her that he had once known me, filled me with rage.

  ‘Do you like Chinese?’ I heard David say as we walked down Cranbourn Street.

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘Because there’s a good one I know in Lisle Street.’ It was dusk by now and I saw a cloud of starlings zig-zag across the darkening sky. As we turned into Leicester Square we heard music. On the east side was a funfair, with an old-fashioned carousel and a white-knuckle ride. We looked up at its huge Meccano arms, spinning and oscillating with their shrieking human cargo, heads thrown back, hair flying.

  ‘EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!’ we heard above the music.

  ‘AAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!!’

  ‘CONFESS YOUR SINS AND BE SAVED!!’ Standing a few feet away was a man in a bomber jacket clutching a powerful microphone. A small crowd had gathered in a semi-circle and were listening to him in a desultory way. ‘CONFESS YOUR SINS AND BE SAVED!!’ he boomed. ‘FOR DOES IT NOT SAY IN EZEKIEL, CHAPTER EIGHTEEN, VERSE THIRTY, “REPENT AND TURN AWAY FROM ALL YOUR TRANSGRESSIONS. LET INIQUITY BE YOUR RUIN!!”’

  ‘Come on,’ said David. He grabbed my hand. ‘We can do without the fire and brimstone.’

  ‘FOR GOD REJOICES IN THOSE WHO REPENT,’ the man roared. ‘FOR, AS IT IS WRITTEN IN LUKE, CHAPTER FIFTEEN, VERSE SEVEN, “I TELL YOU THERE SHALL BE MORE JOY IN HEAVEN OVER ONE SINNER WHO REPENTS THAN OVER NINETY-NINE RIGHTEOUS PERSONS WHO NEED NO REPENTANCE”!!’

  ‘Still, it’s a free country, I suppose,’ David muttered.

  ‘SO I SAY TO YOU AGAIN, MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS, CONFESS YOUR SINS AND REPENT!!’

  I must confess to David, I thought bitterly, as we walked through Leicester Place. There was no longer any excuse for me not to have done so. At the beginning I could reasonably argue that I didn’t know him well enough; but we’d met four times now, so that was no longer the case. I would tell him. This evening. I would finally do it.

  ‘Here we are,’ he said. We’d stopped outside a restaurant called the Feng Shing. ‘They do good lobster noodles here. Is seafood out of the question for you?’

  ‘No. I eat it occasionally.’ We were shown to a table at the back.

  ‘I’m starving,’ David said. ‘Fried squid?’ I nodded. ‘Scallops in black bean sauce?’

  ‘Fine by me.’

  ‘Do you mind if I have chicken?’

  ‘No—as you said, it’s a free country.’

  ‘And we’ll have some stir-fried vegetables with bamboo shoots.’ He waved at the waiter and placed the order. ‘And we’d like some mixed starters, some crispy seaweed, and a couple of Tsinhao beers?’ I nodded. ‘Great,’ he said. ‘You’re easy to please.’ He suddenly smiled at me, and I noticed his tiny scar disappear. ‘It’s so nice to see you again—Miss Behaviour.’ If you knew precisely how I’d misbehaved, you wouldn’t say that. He snapped open his chopsticks, then smiled again. ‘I think I’m getting used to you.’

  ‘Are you?’ I smiled back. ‘So what have you been up to?’

  ‘I went to Glasgow for a couple of days to take some pictures for Action on Addiction, then I’ve been in the dark room quite a bit; I’ve got so many films to catch up on before I go to Stockholm.’

  ‘And what will you be doing there?’

  ‘A shoot to illustrate a piece about Ethiopian asylum seekers for Newsweek.’

  ‘Ethiopians in Stockholm? That’s somehow hard to imagine.’

  ‘Well, it’s a global village now. Then I’ve got to take some photos of the Nobel Foundation. And what about you?’

  I told him about the puppy party, and about my mother’s llama psychotherapy—that made him laugh—and about my ruse to get her to talk to my dad.

  ‘So she has no idea that it’s him?’

  ‘No. She thinks it’s “Lawrence Darwin”, a supposed friend of mine, so she’s going to get a bit of a shock. But if I have to practise a minor deception to get her to be civilized to my dad, then so be it.’ The waiter arrived with our drinks.

  ‘Do you think your dad still likes your mum?’ David asked, as we sipped our beer.

  ‘I think he does. I’m sure that’s why he went to live in the States when she remarried. He couldn’t take it.’

  ‘But he never married again?’

  I shook my head. ‘He had girlfriends. They were always rather glamorous and very keen to impress me. There was Sheryl, I remember—she gave me a silver bracelet—I’ve still got it. Then there was Nancy, a tennis coach. I liked her a lot. She took me to Seaworld at San Diego one weekend when Dad was working—she seemed to be nuts about him.

  But none of them ever became a permanent fixture, so I suspect he was still holding a candle for my mother.’

  ‘How do you think she’ll react when he turns up?’

  ‘She’ll be livid. It may make the situation worse, but I thought it was worth a try. I mean, you’re friends with your ex-wife, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes. Inasmuch as we’re able to talk from time to time, and there are no hard feelings. Just because she decided she didn’t want to be my wife any more doesn’t mean I have to hate her for the rest of my life.’

  ‘So you forgive her?’

  ‘For leaving me? Yes. I made her unhappy so why should she stay?’

  ‘But you said that you couldn’t forgive the person who…hurt you?’

  ‘I said I didn’t think I could. But it’s entirely academic as I don’t know that person—or people—and how can you forgive someone you’v
e never met? And as I’m extremely unlikely ever to do so, the question is irrelevant. I’m never going to find out who did it,’ he said. ‘I accepted that a long time ago and moved on. It’s very sweet of you to be so concerned about it, Miranda, but I actually got over it years ago.’

  ‘David,’ I said faintly. ‘There’s something I want to tell you.’

  He looked at me and smiled. ‘Here we go again. Confession time.’ I stared at him. ‘You don’t really want to eat any seafood—is that it?’

  I shook my head. ‘You wanted something completely vegetarian instead?’

  ‘No, no. It’s something serious, actually… I…’

  Suddenly the waiter appeared with our starters but he’d forgotten the seaweed, so that had to be rectified before our conversation could continue, and by that time the moment was lost.

  ‘David,’ I tried again, as I fiddled with my chopsticks. ‘Before you tell me whatever it is you want to say, can I say something serious to you?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘I wondered whether you’d come away with me in a fortnight’s time.’ My heart did a swallow dive. ‘I know we haven’t known each other that long yet.’ He was fiddling with his glass. ‘But I thought it would be…nice.’

  I looked at him. ‘Where?’

  ‘West Sussex. I’ve got to take photos of Petworth and Arundel for the English Tourist Board. They’ve booked me into this gorgeous hotel and I just thought it would be fun if you were there too. They allow small dogs—’ he went on before I could answer, ‘—so there’d be no problem with Herman. And you could come along with me while I work or you could just stay in the hotel and read. I don’t want to put any pressure on you,’ he added, without looking at me. ‘But I’m travelling quite a bit at the moment, so I thought that if you felt like coming along that weekend, it would give us a bit of time together. But you don’t have to say now. You could see how you feel.’ He was fiddling with his chopstick rest. ‘You could even make up your mind on the day.’

  ‘I’d love to come,’ I said.

  He looked at me. ‘Really?’ His face was suffused with surprise.

  ‘Yes. I can’t think of anything nicer.’

  He smiled. ‘Well, that’s good. In fact, that’s…great.’ He reached across the table for my left hand and stroked it.

  ‘But would it be okay if we had separate rooms? I’d just feel more…comfortable with that.’

  He nodded slowly.

  ‘I understand. That’s fine. I guess you’re still getting over Alexander.’ In some ways, but that’s not the real reason. ‘So, tell me,’ he added quietly. ‘What was the “serious” thing you wanted to say?’

  ‘Oh…’ I clutched my napkin.

  ‘Well…’

  ‘Come on. What’s on your mind this time?’

  ‘Well, it’s just that…’ I took a deep breath, then felt my courage trickle away, like sand through an hourglass. ‘I… I…wondered whether you’d like to come to a birthday party with me on Saturday?’

  ‘Is that all?’ he laughed.

  ‘That’s all.’

  ‘You are funny. Well, thanks.’ He reached across and kissed me. ‘I would.’

  CHAPTER 10

  ‘He’s asked you to go away for the weekend,’ gasped Daisy the following day. I was in Stroud, filming a cat that had adopted two orphaned rabbits which its owner had found in a hedge. We filmed the cat suckling them as peacefully as if she’d given birth to them. I’d then done a piece to camera on other examples of inter-species adoption—a sheepdog which had nursed four piglets, the lioness which had ‘mothered’ a baby gazelle, the Alsatian which had suckled two fox cubs, and the donkey which had adopted a lamb. Then, while the crew were packing up, I’d called Daisy.

  ‘A weekend away?’ she reiterated as I sat in the parked car with Herman. ‘Gosh. Things are hotting up. So when’s that happening?’

  ‘The weekend after Nigel’s party. David’s in Stockholm this week, then he comes back for three days, then he goes to Paris for a few days. But the idea is that we’ll drive down to Petworth on Friday the eighth.’

  ‘So you’re going away with David?’

  I felt myself smile. ‘I’m going away with David. That’s right.’

  ‘And did something happen last night—to prompt this?’ she enquired with a giggle.

  ‘No. He saw me into a cab, then went home.’

  ‘Poor bloke,’ she breathed. ‘He clearly fancies you to bits—he must be gagging for it.’

  ‘I think he is,’ I said ruefully. ‘But he’s not pushing it. He’s nice. In any case he had to catch an early plane this morning.’

  ‘But don’t you want to…take things further?’

  I stared through the windscreen. ‘Yes, actually, I do. I’m so attracted to him.’

  ‘Then why don’t you?’

  ‘Because I can’t possibly get involved with him, unless he knows who I really am.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be right, Daisy. I’ve given it a lot of thought.’

  ‘I understand. But it does rather put the brakes on things.’

  ‘Well, it’s a huge complication, so yes. But at least the whole thing with Alexander buys me time.’

  ‘Maybe you could tell him when you go away for that weekend.’

  I felt my entrails twist with anxiety. ‘That’s what I’ve decided to do. I’ll have known him for six weeks by then. I can’t delay it any longer. No more prevarication. Anyway, how was the class?’

  ‘It was wonderful,’ she replied. ‘We did a number of assault scenarios. Did you know that if someone grabs you from behind you shouldn’t step forward to try and escape them; you should step backwards, and jab them hard with your elbows, or drive your heel into their shin. We practised that on Marcus. He was all padded up and he “attacked” us and we had to defend ourselves. It was huge fun.’

  ‘I hope you didn’t hurt him.’

  ‘Oh, no. Marcus is indestructible, Miranda. He’s such a solid person. The things he’s survived! We were asking him about his work in the pub afterwards.’

  ‘I just hope you never have to use what he’s taught you for real.’

  ‘I hope so too—but simply knowing how to defend myself makes me feel more confident. Do you promise you’ll come next week?’

  ‘I solemnly promise. And what are you doing this weekend? Are you seeing Nigel?’

  ‘I’m not…sure,’ she said vaguely. ‘He’s working all day tomorrow, then I’ve got to be at one of my parties in the evening. I’ll probably have to stay there till at least ten, so I’ll probably just go home and crash.’

  ‘What’s happening on Sunday? Maybe we could meet for tea?’

  ‘Sorry, but I won’t be around.’

  ‘You’ll be with Nigel, of course. Don’t worry. You need to spend some time with him as you’ve both been so busy lately.’

  ‘Oh no, it’s not that. I’m going microlighting.’

  ‘Microlighting?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve never done it before. It’s basically a big kite with a motorbike engine. Apparently it brings back the romance of the early days of aviation as you go phut, phut, phut around the sky. And recently I…got offered the opportunity to try it, so I thought, why not give it a go? I mean, life’s so short, Miranda,’ she went on expansively. ‘I feel you should take every chance you get. And what are you doing this weekend?’ she went on quickly.

  ‘Well, not very much. I’ve got a couple of clients on Saturday, then I’m looking forward to a relaxing Sunday.’

  But this wasn’t to be.

  It started quietly enough. I had breakfast at Primrose Patisserie, and was sitting outside in the sunshine, reading the paper, when I saw Natalie float down the road. She looked as fragile and delicate as her glass jewellery. That seemed to be why Marcus liked her so much. Now she stopped, pulled up a chair at the next table, and ordered a cup of cranberry tea. I gave her a brief smile of semi-recognition but she seemed not to know me. Suddenly he
r mobile trilled out.

  ‘Oh hi, Marcus,’ she said. No doubt he was coming to meet her. ‘How’s Bedfordshire?’ No—he wasn’t. ‘Oh good. Excellent conditions? No, I don’t mind at all… I know I could have come. But I didn’t want to. It sounds horribly dangerous… This evening? Okay. But don’t book anywhere where they allow smoking. You know I can’t stand it… Well, I can’t… I don’t care if it’s a tall order, Marcus, I’m not having people smoking within fifty feet of me. I’m very asthmatic… Yes, I have told you that… Well, that’s their problem, isn’t it?’ And I was just wondering what Marcus was doing in Bedfordshire that was so ‘horribly dangerous’, when my phone rang. I’d diverted my calls.

  ‘Is that Miranda Sweet?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘My name’s Keith Bigley, and I’m calling from Oxford about my rescue cat, Ali.’

  ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘Well, basically, we think he’s insane. My wife and I are quite worried about him actually, and we saw you on that Animal Crackers, and we know it’s the weekend and everything, but we wondered if you’d come out.’ So much for my relaxing Sunday, I thought ruefully. Still, the money would be handy. I paid for my breakfast and left.

  Keith had said that the cat ‘kept playing with water’. It had a ‘fatal attraction’ to it, he claimed. I had an inkling why this might be, but I had to see it to be certain. So I put Herman in the car, and set off.

  ‘Thank God you’re here,’ said Keith, as he opened the door an hour and a half later. ‘This cat is really freaking us out.’ We shut Herman in the dining room, then I followed Keith through to the kitchen, where his wife was washing up. Standing on the draining board, trying to dip its head under the stream of water, was a large ginger and white cat.