The Hidden Man - Charles Cumming [10]
‘I just mentioned it to a colleague over lunch,’ she said, as if this small detail did not in itself imply a breach of trust. ‘Next thing I know, the news editor is demanding that I hand over the interview so that he can farm it for quotes.’
Ben noticed that she had stopped trying to reach Andy’s mobile phone.
‘So why didn’t you just refuse?’ he asked. ‘Why didn’t you just tell him you’d made a deal with the girl?’
‘It doesn’t worklike that.’
Of course it doesn’t. ‘Why not?’ he said.
‘Look, if you’re just going to be difficult about this we might as well -‘
‘Why am I being difficult? I’m just trying to find out -‘
‘Did you pickup my dry cleaning for the party?’
The inevitable change of subject.
‘Did I what?’
‘Did you pickup my dry cleaning for the party?’
‘Alice, I’m not your fucking PA. I’ve been busy in the studio all day. If I have time, I’ll get it tomorrow.’
‘Great.’ And she was on her feet, sighing. ‘Too busy doing what? To walkfive hundred metres to the main road?’
‘No. Too busy working.’
‘Working?’
‘Is that where we’re going with this?’ Ben pointed towards the attic. ‘Painting isn’t work? There’s no such thing as a busy day when you’re an artist?’
Alice tookoff her earrings and put them on a table.
‘Was that her?’ she asked, trying a different tack. ‘The one at the bottom of the stairs?’
‘Jenny? Yes, when you came in. Of course it was.’
‘And is she nice?’
‘Nice?’
‘Do you get on with her?’
A pause.
‘We get on fine, yes. She just lies down and I start painting. It’s not really about “getting on”.’
‘What is it about then?’
‘So you’re now picking a fight with me about a model?’
Alice turned her backon him.
‘It’s just that I thought you were painting older people nowadays. Isn’t that the idea for the new show?’
‘No. Why would you thinkthat? It’s just nudes. Age doesn’t come into it.’
‘So you still hire a girl purely on the basis of looks?’
Ben stood up from the sofa and decided to get away. He would go backup stairs to the studio, put on a record and wait until Alice had calmed down.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘you’ve had a bad day at work. Somebody fucked you over. Try not to take it out on everyone else.’ Alice stubbed out her cigarette and said nothing. ‘Why don’t we start again later? Mark’s arriving in less than an hour. Have a bath and chill out.’
‘Don’t tell me to “chill out”. Just give me a straight answer to my question.’
Ben had to stop and turn.
‘To what question?’
And Alice reacted as if he were deliberately concealing something.
‘Fine,’ she said, and pointedly looked at her watch. ‘What time does the dry cleaner close?’
‘How the fuck should I know?’
‘Well, I’m just wondering what I’m going to wear to this party tomorrow night, now that you haven’t picked up my dress.’
‘So go and get it. You’re a big girl.’
‘Well, I don’t have much choice, do I?’
And Ben was halfway upstairs, heading backto the studio, when he heard the front door slam behind him.
6
Stephen Taploe called the waitress over with an impatient wave of his hand and asked for the bill. It had become necessary to conduct the rest of the conversation outside the cafe, because there were now three men standing idly behind Keen’s chair, sucking on bottles of Mexican lager. The bill came to a little under nine pounds and Taploe put the receipt carefully in his wallet. He was very exact when it came to filing for expenses.
The two men crossed the road and turned towards Brook Green, a steady head-on wind blowing dried leaves and litter along the pavement. Choosing his moment with care, Taploe said, ‘What do you know about a man called Sebastian Roth?’
The question took Keen by surprise. His first thought was that someone inside Divisar had breached client confidentiality.
‘Why don’t you tell me what you know about a man called Sebastian Roth and I’ll see if I can be of any assistance?’ he said. ‘Sort of fill in the blanks.’
Taploe had anticipated that Keen would be evasive; it bought him time.
‘I know what any person can read in the papers. Roth is thirty-six years old, an entrepreneur,