Stephen Leather - Take Two

‘Seb’s gay?” said Jenny. Her jaw dropped. ‘No bloody way he’s a pillow-biter.’

Terry laughed and slapped his knee. ‘Darling, you can’t go around using words like that.’

‘I’m Australian,’ said Jenny. ‘We speak our minds.’

‘Yes, well, this is England and here you can end up in court for speaking ill of the gay.’ He looked over at Richards. ‘The thing is, the TV world is funny like that. You can be over the top gay like Graham Norton or Alan Carr but if you’re an actor, especially one playing a soap opera leading man, being gay can be the kiss of death, career-wise.’ He shrugged. ‘I know, it doesn’t make sense, but that’s the way it is.’

Richards grinned. ‘What, all those moist housewives would switch off if they knew that Seb preferred the dance of the chocolate chutney?’

Jenny was drinking and she almost choked on her champagne. She pointed at him accusingly. ‘Terry, are you going to let him say that?’

Richards grinned. ‘I was joking,’ he said.

Anita came over with a glass and he poured Cristal into it. He topped up their glasses and then waved the empty bottle at Anita. ‘Get me another, darling. The 2004 if we’ve got any left.’

‘It’s actually a real problem for guys like Seb,’ said Terry as Anita went over to the bar. ‘I kid you not. If the tabloids were to get a picture of him in a clinch with one of his young boyfriends, the network would probably let him go. They wouldn’t admit the real reason, of course. They’d say his character had completed its arc or some bollocks like that.’

‘You are serious, Seb’s gay?’ asked Jenny.

‘As a nine-bob note,’ said Terry.

‘He kept looking at my tits,’ said Jenny.

‘He likes to look,’ said Terry. ‘And he loves to flirt. But, trust me, his interests lie elsewhere.’

Richards sipped his champagne as he looked over at Jenny. ‘I can’t get over how much you look like Carolyn,’ he said.

‘That’s the thing about twins,’ laughed Jenny.

‘No, it’s not just the physical thing. It’s the way you sit, the way you hold yourself. If it wasn’t for the accent, you’d be identical.’

Terry shook his head. ‘Nah, I’d be able to tell them apart, no matter what,’ he said.

‘How?’ asked Jenny.

Terry shook his head. ‘You’ll get offended.’

‘Nonsense.’

‘You will. Trust me.’

Jenny grinned. ‘Now I’m intrigued,’ she said. ‘Come on, I won’t get mad, cross my legs and hope to die.’

Terry leaned forward. ‘Carolyn is a star. And stars have a quality about them. Something that sets them apart from other people. An aura, if you like. A presence. When Carolyn walks into a room, everyone looks at her. People are drawn to her, like moths to a flame. It’s not because she’s on TV. She had that quality long before she was on the show. It’s the star quality that made her a star, not the other way around.’

‘And I don’t have it? I don’t have star quality?’

‘You see, you’re offended.’

Jenny sat back and pouted.

‘I think you’ve got star quality,’ said Richards.

‘I don’t need patronizing,’ said Jenny, crossing her legs.

‘I’m serious,’ said Richards. ‘I was watching on the CCTV as you walked through the club. Heads were turning.’

‘Because they thought I was Carolyn.’

‘Maybe. But they didn’t look at you and look away. You’ve got the same quality that she had.’

‘Had?’ said Jenny, frowning. ‘Past tense.’

‘I meant when I saw her with other people, heads turned. Terry’s right, there is such a thing as star quality and you’ve got it.’ He held her look, smiling, knowing that he had made a big mistake referring to Carolyn in the past tense but hoping that he’d covered for it. He raised his glass to her. ‘Here’s to star quality,’ he said.

‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Terry, holding up his glass.

‘I’ll drink to anything,’ said Jenny, laughing. She leaned over and clinked her glass against theirs.

The Porsche pulled up in front of Carolyn’s house. Anita from the VIP room had driven Richards and Jenny from the club. Jenny looked over at the darkened windows. ‘Every time I get here I expect to see her,’ she said. ‘I wonder where the hell she is?’

‘Have you spoken to the police?’ asked Richards.

‘The TV people say not to,’ said Jenny. ‘They don’t want the bad publicity.’ She sighed. ‘Fancy a nightcap?’

‘I’d go for a coffee,’ said Richards.

‘I can do that,’ she said.

‘What about you, Anita? Coffee?’

Anita looked over her shoulder at Richards, trying to work out if it was okay with him. ‘Come on Anita, it’ll perk you up.’ He said.

‘It is four in the morning, boss.’

‘Oh bloody hell,’ said Jenny. ‘I’ve got to be up at half six.’

‘You might as well stay up,’ said Richards. ‘That’s what Seb usually does.’

‘I suppose they can cover the dark patches with make-up,’ said Jenny. She opened the door. ‘Come on, then.’

She walked unsteadily down the path to the front door.

‘Are you sure about this, boss?’ whispered Anita.

‘Sure about what?’

‘I don’t want to queer your pitch,’ said Anita. ‘Don’t want to be a third wheel.’

‘I’m not going to hit on the girl when she’s in that condition,’ said Richards. ‘She’s as high as a kite. And, anyway, I don’t think there’s any pitch to be queered. I think coffee is all she has in mind.’

They got out of the car and followed Jenny along the path. It took her several attempts to get her key in the lock and then she had trouble working out which way to turn it.

‘Let me,’ said Richards. She stepped to the side and he opened the door. He gave her a mock bow and grinned. ‘After you, my lady.’

They followed Jenny down the hallway to the kitchen. Anita closed the front door behind them. ‘I can offer you espresso, cappuccino, or latte,’ said Jenny.

‘I’m impressed,’ said Richards.

‘No need to be,’ laughed Jenny. ‘Carolyn has one of those hi-tech gizmos that uses capsules. You just pop in the right capsule and press a button.’

‘Espresso for me,’ said Richards. ‘Is there a loo I can use?’

‘Down the hall on the left,’ said Jenny, opening a cupboard.

Richards left Jenny and Anita in the kitchen and headed down the hallway. Jenny had left her bag on a table under a large mirror. He stopped and turned. He heard voices in the kitchen but couldn’t tell who was talking. He unzipped the bag and looked inside. He saw a blue passport and pulled it out. He opened it and turned to the page with the photograph. It was Jenny, all right. Jenny Hall. He put the passport on the table, took out his phone and tapped in her date of birth so he wouldn’t forget it. He put the passport back in the bag and took out a Louis Vitton purse. He rifled through it. There were three credit cards, one was American Express and the other two were from Australian banks. There was an Australian driving licence. It had the same date of birth as the driving licence and an address in Brisbane. He tapped the address into his phone then put the driving licence into the purse and the purse into the bag.

‘Are you okay, Warwick?’

Richards jumped and his hands jerked away from the bag as if he’d been stung. He looked around and then relaxed as he saw it was Anita.

‘Just making sure I look good,’ said Richards, tidying his hair in the mirror.

‘Always,’ said Anita. She walked up to him and lowered her voice. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to push off?’ she whispered. ‘She definitely likes you.’