Chloe's Rescue Mission (18 page)

We were at the theatre, one evening, to interview a few old locals. Evan thought it would be a warm way of adding to the Joshua Steele story, finding out about the man of the people. Ken ‘Teddy’ Edwards was a gem. He’d grown up with Grandee which meant he knew him before he was famous. He was pretty doddery now and needed walking sticks, but his memory was still sharp – even if his hearing wasn’t.

‘A fine swimmer, as I recall,’ he rasped, his head nodding at the memory. ‘Saved me from a watery grave.’

‘Really?’ the producer asked. ‘Please could you explain.’

‘Eh?’

‘Start again, but this time could you expand a bit – say, “He saved me from a watery grave, when…” okay?’

‘When? Oh, must be eighty years ago now.’

It was going to be a long interview – all those memories locked in Teddy’s head. The producer would need patience and a lobster fork to prize them out.

Behind me, the door to the auditorium swished open. I turned to see our sponsor, Duncan, peering through it. I put a finger to my lips and beckoned him in.

He crept along the aisle and sat next to me.

We listened as Evan coaxed anecdotes from Teddy’s thin and wrinkled lips. ‘One of nature’s gentlemen, you might call him,’ he said, wafting a bent finger towards the camera. ‘Treated everyone well, he did. No airs and graces…well…except he got to be a bit of a dandy when he became famous – flash suits in the sixties with psychedelic shirts. We used to take the mickey out of him, we did. Said it was all “part of an actor’s image” he did.’

I’d seen photos of Grandee in those psychedelic shirts. Mum still had a couple in the attic, along with a velvet jacket and some silk cravats. Maybe we could auction them off.

Finally, when Evan called it a wrap, I turned to Duncan. ‘This is a nice surprise,’ I said, puzzled by this unscheduled visit.

‘Don’t look so worried, I’m not here to pull the rug on the programme.’

I smiled as my abdomen slumped with relief.

He held a document towards me. ‘I have a new contract for you.’

I looked at the papers in his hand. ‘Really? You mean there’s nothing standing in the way of us working with King Lloyd?’

The important point was, we might actually have the theatre finished by Christmas. I could feel a prickling in my nose, and tears threatened to spill from my eyes.

‘Not exactly.’ He was giving me an odd look. The kind of look people use when they need to break bad news. I sniffed as he continued. ‘I said I have a new contract for you. I’m afraid the original one still stands.’

‘Oh?’

‘You might want to read this.’

I reached out and took the document. It trembled in my hands. Unlike the previous contract, the cover page was not from Thorsen Leisure but from TTV – Duncan’s television production company. I opened it. The title read: TTV Proposal: Business Angel Challenge.

‘The idea was Gemma’s. I think it’s a good one,’ he said, now looking rather pleased with himself.

Visions of me in a Lycra cat-suit, scrambling up cliff-faces or hurtling down mountains came to mind. I just knew I wasn’t going to like it.

‘Well, go on, read it.’

I started to read. Part-way down the page I stopped. ‘Who’s Anneka Rice?’

He grinned. ‘You never watched Challenge Anneka when you were a kid?’

‘No.’

‘She had a TV programme, back in the nineties. Each week, she and her team were challenged to build something like an orphanage or a community play park. There was a deadline and they relied on people volunteering their time and materials to make it happen.’

A penny was dropping. I read on. Finally, I said, ‘So you’re giving me ten minutes, in each episode of Business Angel, to drum up support?’

‘Aye. Plus we’ll do a weekly round-up of your own. There’ll also be a slew of hype beforehand – banner ads on TV sites, another stint on the breakfast shows. I think Gemma’s really nailed it with this idea. It’ll be great coverage for any of the local businesses, and even ones from further afield.’

‘So, how will it work?’

‘Each week you’ll be at the top of the show, setting the week’s challenge, calling for volunteers and support. At the end of the programme we’ll get an update on who’s signed up to help. The following week, we’ll see how it’s progressing and ask for more help. Every one of those businesses will get free air-time courtesy of TTV’s Business Angel. And the bulk of your clips can be recorded and edited, so you don’t have to worry about doing it all live.’

I almost wept with relief. I clutched my hands in front of my chest to stop from hugging him. ‘So, can I just clarify…if this succeeds, we won’t have to work with King Lloyd?’

Duncan’s smile flattened. ‘Afraid not. Your friend Warren might be rather disappointed.’

‘Yessss!’ I punched the air.

‘Not so much of a friend, then?’

‘You don’t want to know.’ I was bouncing in my seat. ‘Duncan, this is the best news I’ve had in a long time.’

Bugger protocol, I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him hard.

‘I guess you’ll be signing this one, then?’ he said through a chuckle.

‘Yes.’ I pulled back from him. ‘Although, I’ll have to get Paul Rousseau to check it, first.’

‘Of course.’

‘Oh, wow. Do you really think it’ll work?’

‘Come on, Chloe. D’you think I’d carve up Business Angel on a whim?’

‘No. You’re much too smart for that.’

‘Smart, eh?’

I could feel a blush warming my cheeks.

‘So, Chloe, time for a celebratory drink?’ he asked. He was expecting, I think, a yes.

‘Aww, no can do. I promised to baby-sit for Tom tonight. I can manage a quick coffee over the road’

‘Away then.’

We sat in the café and ran through some ideas Gemma had suggested for my role in the show. It sounded like fun. Duncan suggested I hunt around on YouTube for clips of the old shows. ‘That way, you’ll understand where this all came from.’

Too soon, it was time for me to head off. ‘What are you doing, this evening?’ I asked as we crossed the road.

‘I’m heading down to my place in Bath for a couple of days.’

‘Golf?’

‘Nope.’

Very cagey. Was I being nosy? I was. I persisted, ‘Going for a rest?’

‘God, I hope so.’

‘Do you have an apartment or a house?’

‘Apartment. Georgian. Views over the city. Highly desirable, I’m told.’

‘So you have an apartment in London, another in Bath and hotel rooms all over the world.’

‘Yes, and a lot of housekeeping bills. I wouldn’t recommend it.’

‘You poor thing,’ I said with a smile, not feeling remotely sympathetic. He had the good grace to smile.

‘We successful entrepreneurs are a very misunderstood breed.’

‘I’m sure. All those staff to worry about; who’s counting your money; which prestigious invitation to accept.’

‘Correct. You could help me there. Which would you go for; Trixie Matthey’s twenty-first birthday shower and punting party or Dame Clara Boyd’s Summer Ball?’

‘Definitely the punting party. Sounds like gallons of pink champagne and hoards of drunken toffs. Lovely.’

‘Not unlike Clara’s Ball, to be fair. However, I’m on my way to Bath. Which has probably pissed them both off so I won’t be invited again…which is a blessing.’

‘Ooh. Not feeling very sociable then.’

‘No.’

There was a pause. ‘I, on the other hand, will be reading Spike Milligan’s
Silly Verse for Kids
and listening to Tom chuckle. I’m not sure he understands them but we always make lots of silly noises.’

Duncan started on the chorus of Spike’s
Sticky
song and I joined in.

‘We really know how to live it up in Barnworth, don’t we?’

As I watched him get into his car, I said. ‘Safe journey. And thanks again. I promise I’ll do my best. I don’t want you to regret putting us in the show.’

‘I know,’ he said, and started the engine.

I waved him off. ‘Put your arm down, Chloe,’ I muttered to myself, ‘he’s not family. He’s just a sponsor, and don’t you forget it.’

*

Duncan pulled away from the theatre with a smile on his face. He had to hand it to Chloe, she had a knack for pissing him off one minute but cheering him up so much more the next. He found himself humming
Sticky
all over again. He could just imagine her making little Tom gurgle with laughter over a silly poem.

He let out a satisfied sigh.

But what about King Lloyd Holdings and her friendship with Warren. Either she didn’t want to complicate a potential relationship with her old friend or maybe she was glad to see the back of him.

Interesting.

So, what should he do this evening? He could ring out for a take-away. He could sit in his high-ceilinged sitting room, in front of the empty, Adam-built fireplace with the Wedgwood tablet depicting dancing nymphs, and eat King Prawn Madras while he watched TV.

He could phone Amanda Holt and ask her to join him; snuggle up on the sofa, share a curry and have fairly functional sex that would get him to sleep. He hadn’t seen Amanda for weeks. In fact, he’d been avoiding her since she’d started taking a rather intense approach to their casual arrangement.

More than that – she didn’t appeal to him, any more.

*

It was only polite that we should meet King Lloyd Holdings and give them our decision, so Beth and I drove up to Birmingham. Mum was gutted, she wanted to give them the news but had lectures all day.

‘Darling, be very polite,’ she said. ‘Tell them, “Thank you but no.” And do it with dignity.’ She stuck her nose in the air and winked at us. ‘Then they can shove their contract where the sun won’t reach.’

Warren could barely hide his fury. His lips became tight and his eyebrows nearly met in the middle.

Before we left, he pulled me to one side, and said through slightly gritted teeth, ‘Listen, when it all goes tits up with Thorsen, I’ll still be here.’

‘I’m sorry you feel that way.’ And I was – extremely frigging sorry.

He smiled and touched my arm. ‘You need the money, Chloe. You could have had it – still could,’ he raised his eyebrows, in one last attempt to change my mind.

I shrugged. ‘We’ve already committed to Thorsen Leisure. I don’t go back on my word.’

He stared at me. I looked away and then, because he hadn’t moved, I looked back again. Finally, he said, ‘That’s good to know. But I think, as usual, you’re making a big mistake.’ Then he stepped away and strolled off down the corridor.

Beth reached out and clutched my hand. ‘Fancy a spliff?’ she asked quietly.

I rolled my eyes. I’d kicked that habit when I’d started dating Warren. I wasn’t about to take either of them up again.

Two weeks passed and no sign of Duncan. He was mentioned a lot – on the radio, in meetings, during filming sessions and he popped up twice in celebrity news, each time with a different woman on his arm – but no physical manifestation. He was either out of the country or busy.

Not that I minded.

Much.

The important thing was, we were managing to make a difference for the theatre.

Occasionally, in one of my few quiet moments, I would allow my mind to drift back to the thrill of dancing with him, and the out-of-this-world pleasure his kisses could deliver. Then I would sigh and resign myself to understanding how sometimes, that was how life went. You can spend a weekend in a luxury hotel, all the while knowing it’s a one-off experience to be savoured, because next weekend you’ll be back in your Mum’s old bedroom, staring at the ancient wallpaper and the continents of damp on the bedroom ceiling, and wondering when you might be back in your own little palace again.

Oh, how I wanted my life back on track.

Mum caught me in her spare room, one day, amongst my pile of possessions. I’d clambered around the boxes and chairs to sit on my sofa. My lovely, squishy, olive green, chenille sofa, which had gone so perfectly with the cream, grey and beige colour scheme in my sitting room. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine being back there, drinking fresh coffee from one of my chunky little Italian coffee cups, and gazing out across the balcony towards the river Severn.

Chloe’s place.

To give Warren his due, I might never have had it. He’d persuaded me to give up drama school and take the job in events. His friend owned the company and was looking for someone with confidence and presence. Considering Warren’s opinion on my stage work, it does seen rather ironic he’d suggested I go for it. ‘The money’s really good and, let’s face it, the prospects for getting work in the theatre are almost as rare as hen’s teeth,’ he’d said.

Of course, we were only nine months into our relationship then – and I hadn’t spotted the first signs of erosion on my self-esteem. So I left drama school in the middle of my second year and joined Severn Events. Grandee had also died that year, which gave me another excuse for coming home. Months later, Warren’s uncle showed me the apartment in an old warehouse he was converting, and I fell in love with it on sight. It was in one of the best positions, with views across the river valley. He gave me a modest discount – or at least, he said he had – by including all the kitchen appliances at no extra cost. The apartment was on the second floor, with a large balcony that wrapped around the corner to catch the daytime and evening sun. After living in Mum’s chaos for most of my life, it was paradise. Okay – so it only had one bedroom but it was mine, all mine.