Step Back in Time (18 page)

‘What’d you do that for?’ Ellie asks after Lucy has gone. ‘I’d have thought you’d have wanted to be well shot of here if that sort of thing is going on.’

‘If Ringo
is
running that kind of game, Ellie, he’ll be making an absolute mint, so I think we should sting him for all we can. He deserves it. Besides,’ I say taking a sideways glance at Lucy at the bar, ‘there are a few things in here I’d like to investigate a little bit further.’

The evening continues to flow, as do the drinks to our table. After our bottle of very fine champagne, Ellie’s now moved on to Malibu and Coke, which seem to keep appearing just as Ellie empties the last drop from her previous glass.

‘Steady on,’ I warn her at one stage, ‘I don’t want to have to carry you home tonight.’

‘Ah, I’m fine,’ she says, waving her hand casually in my face. ‘You just stick with ya boring old wine, and leave the exciting stuff to me.’

Lucy waited on us brilliantly all evening, and when sensible conversation with Ellie started to become nigh on impossible, I managed to have a few quick chats with Lucy in between rounds. She seemed like a bright, intelligent girl, and I couldn’t quite figure out why she was working in a place like this.

‘How do you put up with this, night after night?’ I ask her, after I’ve witnessed a particularly bad bout of her trying to avoid her bum being pinched, and having her chest constantly ogled. Just watching it from a distance is bad enough.

She shrugs. ‘Beats being stuck at home on my own, I guess.’

‘Don’t you have any friends?’ I ask. ‘Any family?’

‘Not really. I work two jobs, see, this one at night and another in a packing department in the day. No time for mates, and my family… well, they live far away now.’

I feel a bit sorry for her. ‘After the way you’ve looked after us tonight, Ellie and I are certainly your friends from now on if you’ll have us.’

Lucy looks at Ellie gently swaying next to me on the plush sofa we’re sitting on. ‘Do I have to prop her up?’ she asks, grinning.

I laugh. ‘Sometimes, but she’s so small you’ll hardly notice.’

‘Deal then,’ Lucy says, winking at me. Then she hurries off across the club as another table requires her services.

Suddenly there’s a kerfuffle at one of the tables across the room, and a few of the people around it push back their chairs and stand up.

‘What’s going on there?’ I ask Ellie, trying to lean around her so I can see better.

‘I dunno, probably one of them don’t know how to hold his drink – talking of which, I think I might just need to visit the ladies’ room meself.’ Ellie leaps to her feet and hurries in the direction of the ladies’ toilet.

I watch her go, and then turn my attention back to the other table. Several of the occupants are looking panicky now and keep looking anxiously around them as if to try and summon help. But I still can’t see properly what’s going on because the people standing around it keep masking the table.

Ringo appears to find out what’s going on, and he emerges from the huddle that’s building around the table looking fearful.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he calls, ‘do we have a doctor in the house at all?’ He looks desperately around him. ‘Lucy, call an ambulance!’ he shouts at Lucy, who’s standing by the bar about to collect another round of drinks. ‘And tell them to make it snappy!’

One of the men who’s been blocking my view moves out of the way and as he stands back to loosen his tie and get some air, I see another man still sitting at the table being comforted by a woman in a sparkling turquoise green dress. Except the man doesn’t look very comforted at all; he looks extremely
un
comfortable, and as if he’s having difficulty breathing. His face seems to be swelling up and he’s holding his throat.

I leap to my feet and rush over to the table.

‘What did he eat?’ I demand, looking at the others standing helplessly around the distressed man.

They shrug, and look back at me with furrowed brows and puzzled expressions as if I’m asking the most complicated question in the world.

‘Did he eat some of these?’ I demand of them again, lifting a half-empty bowl of peanuts from the table.

‘Yes,’ the woman in the green dress says. ‘Yes, he did, just a handful, though. But Rocky didn’t choke or anything, he was talking to me for a few minutes after.’

‘He’s allergic,’ I say, my outer voice belying my inner feelings of panic as I see Rocky’s having even more trouble breathing. He’s beginning to turn more of a burgundy colour now, rather than simply tomato red. ‘He has a nut allergy, that’s what’s causing this reaction.’

‘You’re the one with the nut problem,’ one of the men says. ‘Nutcase, that’s what you are! Never heard such a lot of shite.’

‘It’s not shite! I’ve seen it before because someone in my office has the same thing. Has anyone got an EpiPen?’ I ask them, then realise that it’s probably too early for such a thing when they look at me with even more derision. I think hard. ‘What about an anti-allergy medication, then? Like hay fever tablets?’

They all just stare at me like I’m mad.

‘I’ve got medicine,’ a voice suddenly pipes up. ‘I take it because I’m allergic to animal fur.’

I look around at Lucy. ‘Perfect. Have you got it here by any chance?’

She nods. ‘In my locker. I’ll run and get it!’

Lucy dashes off, and is replaced in the circle now gathering around Rocky and I by Ellie.

‘What are you doing, Jo-Jo?’ she hisses. ‘Let the ambulance people do their job when they get here.’

‘If we wait for them,’ I say, looking at Rocky, ‘he might not make it.’

‘Here,’ Lucy says, returning with a bottle of medicine, ‘what should I do?’

‘Loosen his tie,’ I tell her, sliding on to the seat next to a now almost-blue Rocky. ‘Could you move over, please?’ I ask green dress woman. ‘This just might save his life.’

While Lucy loosens Rocky’s bow tie and shirt, I shake up the bottle. There’s no time to find a spoon. So I simply remove the lid.

‘I know this is going to be difficult for you,’ I tell him, lifting the bottle so it’s right in front of his face, ‘but I need you to drink some of this. It will help, I promise.’

At least I hope it will. We have a girl in the office back home who is allergic to peanuts and she carries an EpiPen everywhere now. She discovered her allergy one Christmas when she had an attack during an office lunch. Some bright spark realised what her problem was and dashed along to the local chemist and bought a bottle of Benadryl to calm her throat, which was just beginning to tighten. It was so successful she didn’t even need to go to hospital, but simply made an appointment to see her doctor the next morning.

Rocky manages a weak nod. By the look of him he doesn’t usually do anything weakly. He’s a big, broad man. Not fat, but not slim. Muscly, I’m guessing, by the way his white shirt is pulling across his chest right now, but that might be more to do with him gasping for each and every breath.

I lift the bottle of medicine to his lips and he weakly attempts to sip from it.

‘That’s it,’ I encourage him, ‘nice and gently.’

Very slowly, in tiny drips, he manages to swallow some of the liquid down.

‘Where’s that bloody ambulance?’ I hear Ringo call behind me. ‘I can see me getting sued here for every penny I own, if this goes wrong.’

But as Rocky sips more and more of the allergy medication, his breathing starts to become easier, and then his swollen face begins to reduce in size.

‘It’s working!’ green-dress woman shouts. ‘Look, my Rocky’s getting better.’

‘She’s right,’ one of the men agrees. ‘I think the girl has done it.’

Two paramedics arrive then, and I’m pleased to see that’s what they are, not just ambulance drivers as they might have been in my previous re-incarnations.

‘Everyone stand back,’ they call. ‘We’ll take over now.’

They look with horror at me still feeding Rocky medicine. ‘What have you been giving him?’ the older of the two men demands.

‘It’s an antihistamine medication,’ I explain quickly. ‘I think Rocky may have had an allergic reaction to nuts.’ I gesture towards the peanut bowl.

The paramedic stares at me for a moment. ‘We’ll be the judge of that,’ he says as I stand up and move out of the way to let him deal with Rocky.

‘Are you all right?’ Ellie asks as I walk slowly back over towards her. ‘You look very white.’

‘Yeah, I’m fine. It was a bit stressful for a few minutes back then, that’s all.’

‘Saving lives usually is!’ Ellie says and she winks. ‘You did great, babe. How’d you know all that stuff?’

‘Someone at my – my old work suffered in the same way. When she had an attack we treated her with the same type of medicine.’

‘Who’d have thought peanuts could be so dangerous,’ Ellie says, wrinkling up her nose. ‘What with this and your toilet story earlier, I’m never touching them again!’

The younger paramedic comes over towards us. ‘You probably saved his life, you know,’ he says, nodding at me approvingly. ‘That was quick thinking – the antihistamine medication.’

‘Thanks, just pleased I could help.’

‘But how did you know? I’ve only seen a few cases like that, and that’s doing the job I do.’

‘I bet you’re gonna see a whole lot more over the next few years,’ I say knowingly as I spy Ringo heading this way now. ‘You’d better get prepared.’

‘Jo-Jo!’ he says, beaming at me, his shark-like teeth fully on display. ‘It seems I owe you a big favour. You appear to have saved the life of one of my most important clients.’

‘It’s fine, Ringo, really, you don’t owe me anything,’ I reply as I watch Rocky being wheeled away with an oxygen mask over his face.

‘Yes, I do,’ Ringo continues. ‘Anything I can do for you and Ellie
ever
, you just let me know, OK?’

‘Sure, Ringo,’ I say, but I’m distracted by Rocky who is attempting to pull the oxygen mask away from his face. He whispers to the paramedic on his right, who then beckons me over.

‘He wants to thank you,’ the paramedic says as I arrive by their side.

Rocky pulls the mask away again. ‘Rocky owes you,’ he says in a raspy voice. ‘Anything you want, you just come and see Rocky, OK?’

I nod at him. And, happy I’ve understood the gratitude his message implies, he allows the mask to return to his face, and the paramedics to escort him and his lady out of the club to the waiting ambulance.

‘I have to give it to you,’ Ellie says, coming up to me. ‘You country girls are quick workers.’

‘What do you mean?’ I ask, taking the glass of wine Ellie is holding out for me, and gulping a large mouthful of it.

‘In one evening you’ve managed to not only get the owner of one of the trendiest clubs this side of London eating out of your hand, but one of the biggest gangsters, too. You’ve only been here five minutes, Jo-Jo, what are you gonna get up to next?’

The next morning, fresh from my exploits at the club, I’m standing in front of the mirror in the ladies’ toilet at the office of the newspaper where Ellie and I work – apparently as ‘showbiz’ reporters, although from what I gather, it appears our job description may delve a bit deeper into the realms of generalised gossip-mongering.

‘Ready to rumble?’ Ellie asks as she emerges from the toilet cubicle and begins washing her hands at the sink.

‘Yes, but are you sure about this so-called tip-off?’

Ellie shakes her hands and pulls some green paper towel from a container. ‘Of course – Zak is one of my best sources.’

‘If you’re sure – but something doesn’t feel right about it.’

‘What’s up?’ Ellie asks, tossing the paper towel into the bin. ‘You still bothered about rogue Rigby’s reputation?’

‘No,’ I insist as we leave the toilets. ‘I just don’t want to storm in accusing someone of something if it’s not true, that’s all.’

‘We’re not going to storm in anywhere. Far from it. We need to find out what’s going on first, then we can break the story…’

As I ride along on the back of Ellie’s bike, I think about what Zak, Ellie’s source, has told her. He said he suspected Harry was involved in trafficking drugs. There was a ‘strong rumour’, he said, from those in the know, that Harry was using his record company as a cover to ship and supply all sorts of illegal substances to the UK, and that was how he’d made his money. It seemed that Harry was catering to the public’s tastes, but it wasn’t exactly their ears that were benefiting from his shipments.

I couldn’t believe that any of this was true. It just didn’t sound like Harry at all. Well, not the Harry I knew. But how could this version of him be so different from the others? Had something happened to him to make him this way?

Eventually we pull up outside a large modern building situated behind some black railings. There’s a security guard sitting in a wooden booth at the gates.

‘Now what do we do?’ I whisper to Ellie as we park the bike and remove our helmets. ‘We have no reason to be here, he’s not going to just let us in.’

‘Use your initiative!’ Ellie hisses. ‘Didn’t you learn anything in Norwich?’

‘Hello…’ I sidle up to the booth and smile sweetly at the security guard. ‘I’m here to see Mr Rigby.’

‘Name,’ he demands flatly.

‘Jo-Jo,’ I say without thinking.

‘Surname?’

‘McKenzie.’

The security guard scans the list in front of him. ‘Your name isn’t on the list,’ he says, looking up at me expressionless.

‘That’s because I don’t
have
an appointment,’ I point out, to his immediate annoyance. ‘I just wondered if I could see him.’

‘Mr Rigby is a very busy man,’ the security guard sighs. ‘He doesn’t see just anyone at the drop of a hat.’ He looks me up and down.
Especially the likes of you
, he may as well have added.

I look across at Ellie and pull a ‘help me’ face.

‘But Jo-Jo isn’t just
anyone
,’ Ellie says, emerging from the side of the wooden booth, so the security guard can see her beneath his hatch. ‘Mr Rigby virtually saved her life the other day down on the King’s Road. He’ll want to see her, I’m sure of it.’

The security guard looks suspiciously at Ellie.

‘Honestly!’ Ellie insists. ‘Didn’t he, Jo-Jo?’

‘In a way, I guess…’

‘There you go! So hadn’t you better check, just to be on the safe side?’ Ellie insists.

The security guard, more to get a peaceful life than to help us, I think, decides to pick up his phone and call through to the main building.

‘Harry won’t let us in if the guard tells him that story,’ I whisper to Ellie. ‘Why did you say that?’

‘It’s not that far from the truth, and if you don’t ask you don’t get. Plus we
need
to get inside that building!’

‘Mr Rigby will see you,’ the guard suddenly announces.

‘What? I mean, that’s great. Thank you,’ I say, smiling gratefully at him, as Ellie spins jubilantly around next to me.

‘You’ll need these,’ the guard says, handing us two lanyards with visitor passes dangling at the bottom of them. ‘Wear them at all times, and report to reception when you get inside.’

‘Thank you!’ Ellie calls to the guard, as she hangs the pass around her neck. ‘You’ve been fandabbydozy!’

I stare after Ellie as she rushes through the opening electronic gates. Of course! It’s the eighties, The Krankies would be big right now. Well, as big as the little one was ever going to get.

‘Come on, Jo-Jo!’ she calls. ‘Stop daydreaming and get your ass in here!’

We rush across the car park to the main building and into reception.

‘Just sign in here, ladies, please,’ the receptionist says. ‘You’re expected.’

We quickly sign our names and the receptionist asks us to wait on some red leather settees while she informs Harry we’re here.

I have to smile as I look around the reception area of Beat Music – the décor is just so eighties! It’s all red, black and chrome – just like I’ve seen in interior magazines when they’ve talked about going retro. It’s very harsh and unforgiving, I guess a bit like the times. It’s all about money now, isn’t it? And lots of it.

‘When he gets here you distract him and I’ll slip away and go in search of some evidence with my camera,’ Ellie says, patting her bag.

‘What do you mean distract him?’ I ask in horror. ‘How?’

Ellie nods at my legs. I’m wearing a short red batwing sleeve dress and opaque black tights. ‘Use what God gave you!’ she suggests.

‘Yeah, like that will work,’ I laugh.

‘You’d be surprised!’ she says, winking. ‘Plus it’s all we’ve got right now!’

‘Jo-Jo,’ Harry says as he enters the reception area. ‘What a pleasant surprise to see you so soon. What can I do for you?’

Oops, we haven’t thought of a reason to be here yet. We really are useless at this. Well, I am.

‘Hello, Harry,’ I say, suddenly feeling a little shy. ‘Can I introduce my colleague, Ellie Williams?’

‘Good morning, Mr Rigby,’ Ellie says confidently, standing up to greet him. She walks over to shake his hand in a very accomplished, non-Ellie way. I’d wondered why she’d toned down the Madonna look today, and had erred more towards the Maggie Thatcher in a two-piece blue suit. She has more pearls slung round her neck and wrists than I’m sure Maggie owns, but it’s a very fine attempt on Ellie’s part to look sleek and sophisticated. ‘It’s a professional visit, I’m afraid.’

‘Is it now?’ Harry asks, looking amused. ‘And please, call me Harry.’

‘Certainly,’ Ellie gushes. ‘Well, Harry, Jo-Jo is writing a feature on the most eligible bachelors in the music industry, and we’d like to do a feature on you.’

Harry’s amusement turns to shock. He looks as surprised by this news as I am. ‘I – I’m sure we could arrange an interview some time,’ he stutters. ‘If you’d like, you can make an appointment with my secretary.’

‘Why not now?’ Ellie demands. ‘Since we’re here. It won’t take long. Jo-Jo can ask you a few questions and I’ll just take a few snaps, if that’s OK? Some of you and then some of your office, that kind of thing?’

Harry, looking flustered, glances at his watch. ‘I guess I could give you half an hour or so…’ he says hesitantly.

‘Great!’ Ellie says, grabbing her chance. ‘Let’s go!’

Harry leads us up to his office. Unlike the reception area and foyer, it’s not at all flash and modern. It’s very warm and quite cosy, with a large walnut desk and soft brown leather seats.

‘Would you like a drink?’ he asks as we sit down on two of the leather seats in front of his desk. ‘Tea, coffee?’

‘I’m fine, thanks, Harry,’ Ellie says as she begins unpacking her camera from her bag. ‘You two just carry on and I’ll start snapping some casual shots.’

‘Jo-Jo?’ Harry asks. ‘Can I get you anything? We have a very good coffee machine here. Top of the range.’

As Harry stands there in his grey suit, crisp white shirt and red and grey striped tie, I have a sudden flash of him as his former self with blue hair, and I’m distracted.

‘Ooh, I could murder a caramel macchiato right now, if it does one?’

Harry stares at me. ‘Er, I don’t think I’ve come across that one before…’

‘Oh sorry, I went on holiday to Italy recently, they’re quite advanced with their coffee over there. Sometimes I forget.’

‘Fancy,’ Harry says, eyeing me suspiciously. ‘Sorry, we just have plain filter here, but it is good. Will a cup of that do?’

‘Yes, of course. That would be lovely.’

Harry presses a buzzer on his desk, speaks to his secretary and asks for two coffees.

‘Now,’ he says, sitting down behind his desk and giving Ellie a pained glance as she darts round his desk, flashing her camera in his face. ‘What would you like to ask me?’

‘Ah, yes…’ I root about in my bag and, in amongst all the other junk I seem to carry around, I find a notebook and pen. I take it out and carefully turn to a new page.

Harry watches me do this with an impatient expression on his face.

‘So, Harry, have you had many girlfriends?’ I ask him.

Ellie, who happens to be standing behind Harry’s desk, grins in amusement.

‘A few, thank you,’ Harry says, leaning back in his leather chair; he casually links his hands together in his lap.

‘Good, good, and did you think any of them would ever make good wives?’

Ellie makes a snorting noise, which she swiftly turns into a cough.

I glare at her.
What was I supposed to ask?

‘Maybe you’d like to go and take some photos around the building, Ellie?’ Harry suggests, turning around to look at her. ‘I’m sure Michelle will be delighted to show you around when she brings our coffees.’

‘Yes, Ellie,’ I agree, ‘perhaps you should go for a while.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I get it, you two – three’s a crowd and all that!’

‘Hardly,’ Harry mutters. ‘I’m just sick of you flashing that thing in my face.’

Ellie struggles to bite her tongue as Harry’s secretary appears through the door with two cups of coffee on a glass tray.

‘Thank you, Michelle,’ Harry says, smiling at her. ‘Would you be good enough to show Ellie around the offices? She’d like to flash somewhere else other than at me for a while.’

Ellie and Harry give each other similar looks of disdain as Ellie leaves the office with Michelle.

Harry watches them go and then turns his attention to me.

‘So, what are you really doing here?’ he asks, looking directly at me with his deep blue eyes, which never change, however much the rest of him does.

‘A story…’ I respond weakly, holding up my pad as if it’s evidence.

‘Oh really?’

‘Yes, really.’

‘Go on then,’ he says, sitting back in his high-backed leather chair, sipping casually on his coffee. ‘Ask away.’

I think for a moment.

‘Do you think being a rich, successful businessman helps or hinders you in your love life?’ I ask a bit bluntly.

Harry nods. ‘Good question. Direct. I like that.’ He thinks now. ‘That depends,’ he says.

‘On?’

‘On whether I’m looking for a permanent relationship or just a bit of fun?’

‘Define your answer,’ I say, trying to keep it short and to the point. I’m sensing he prefers this approach.

‘Do I need to?’ He raises an eyebrow again, but in a suggestive way this time instead of a cross one.

‘What do you prefer, then?’ I try to do the same. But I fear all I look like is someone with a nervous tic.

‘Well, I’m not wearing a gold band,’ he says, holding up his left hand.

‘I see…’ I pretend to scribble something down on my pad. Is he flirting with me? I
knew
I should have worn a longer skirt. Harry as an office boy and a teenager I could cope with, but this Harry just seems much more… dangerous.

‘And neither are you,’ he continues, ‘so perhaps you prefer the same?’

I pull awkwardly at the hem of my dress. Now I feel like a gawky teenager. My cheeks are flushing too, I notice, as I feel them begin to burn.

Harry just watches me steadily as I suffer under his intense gaze.

‘But we’re here to discuss your availability as a bachelor, not mine,’ I recover eventually, ‘so, sadly, that information must remain under wraps for now.’

‘For now, eh?’ Harry says, smiling at me. ‘That suggests I’m going to see you again, Jo-Jo.’

I turn over the pages of my pad, even though I’ve only scribbled a couple of words down so far, and in my haste knock it to the floor.

‘Perhaps,’ I respond, as I pick it up again. ‘It depends on how well you answer my questions today, doesn’t it?’

Harry grins now. ‘I’m only winding you up. The truth is I’m pretty rubbish at relationships, actually. That’s why I don’t have a ring yet. Always too busy working.’

Now that sounds more like a scenario I’m familiar with.
 

I’m about to ask him another question but I’m prevented by an urgent hammering on Harry’s office door. Suddenly it’s thrust open and Michelle bursts through.

‘I’m so sorry to disturb you,’ she says to Harry, her eyes flickering in an irritated fashion in my direction. ‘But the other girl seems to have gone missing.’

‘What do you mean, missing?’ Harry asks, standing up behind his desk. He looks suspiciously at me.

‘She was with me for a while,’ Michelle explains, ‘and then she asked to go to the toilet. I waited for a bit while she visited the ladies’. But when she’d been in there over five minutes I thought I’d better check on her.’

‘And?’ Harry asks impatiently.

‘And she was gone. No one was in there. I’ve looked for her everywhere, but I simply can’t find her. I’m terribly sorry, Harry.’

I like how Harry’s staff call him by his first name; it’s very friendly and informal. But I don’t like how Harry is looking at me now.

‘Do you know anything about this?’ he demands.

‘Me? No, why would I?’

‘She’s your colleague.’

‘Ellie is a law unto herself. I can’t be held accountable for her actions.’ I rearrange my pad and pen in my lap.

‘Really?’ Harry says, still looking at me doubtfully. ‘You’d better inform security, Michelle, and when they find her, tell them to remove her from the building immediately.’