‘Well then – I guess I’ll get going.’
‘I think that’s a good idea. Nice to see you again, and goodbye!’ says Mags.
In another time, I might have smiled, but not now. I sag in my chair. ‘Oh, look. Please will you help me out?’
‘I can’t.’ Mags looks at her watch. ‘And I really do have to get going. Leo, I urge you to go home and speak to Emma. That’s the best I can offer.’ She throws me a stinging smile and then snaps her laptop shut.
There’s nothing for it.
‘Your husband,’ I say, as she places the laptop in a sleeve. ‘We have a stock obituary on file for him.’
She stops what she’s doing, but says nothing. Mags’ husband was the political editor for ITV for years. He hasn’t been an honourable sort of a man.
‘A mutual friend told me several things about him. I’m pretty sure I’m the only person they confided in, so none of it has made it to the stock yet.’
I jam my hands between my legs, where they dance and jitter. This had seemed like a good idea on the train, but I’m not that sort of hack. I never have been – it’s why I ended up in obits.
‘Oh, forget it,’ I mutter. ‘I’m sorry. That’s blackmail.’
Mags is watching me with disgust. She doesn’t say a word.
I scrape back the chair. ‘People do awful things when they’re desperate, don’t they? Just – forget I was here.’
‘For fuck’s sake,’ Mags snaps. She almost throws her laptop back onto her desk. ‘The reason the BBC—’
‘No,’ I say quickly. ‘Forget what I said about your husband. I’m not that kind of man. It’s OK.’
Mags bats me off. ‘I won’t have Emma tell everyone I got rid of her. It’s borderline libellous – in fact, I’ve half a mind to talk to our lawyer about it—’
‘Oh no, please don’t,’ I begin, but she’s not interested.
‘Listen, Leo.’ She waits for me to stop bleating. ‘The reason the BBC had to let Emma go is that someone informed them Emma had a criminal record. They investigated and it turned out to be true.’
After a pause, I lean forward. ‘I’m sorry. She had a what?’
‘You heard me.’
‘But – what for? I mean, what for?’
Mags purses her lips. ‘Stalking.’
I cradle my head in my hands. ‘What? Who? Who did she stalk?’
Mags Tenterden leans back in her chair, remembering that time. ‘She stalked Janice Rothschild.’ Her voice is quieter now, almost apologetic. ‘I know this isn’t easy to hear.’
‘It’s . . . not.’
‘It was Janice who tipped the BBC off. Emma resigned as my client because she didn’t want to put me in a difficult situation – Janice has been with this agency since she came out of RADA in the nineties.’
‘Oh, God.’
Mags watches me for a while.
‘Leo, I’m afraid I really do have somewhere to be. I’ll have my assistant show you out.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
LEO
I stand on our overgrown front path, imagining Ruby, full of stories about the ‘rarpoplane’ and what she ‘needs’ before bed （chocolate biscuits）。 I try to imagine the conversation Emma and I are going to have. Spokes of anxiety turn.