Page 16 of Cover Story

‘It onlysoundsfun and easy. If you do ‘full immersion’ stories there’s more pressure to justify it all at the end. I’ve recently worked on an abuse in care homes story that took five weeksand went nowhere. I can’t believe Mr If It Bleeds It Leads here would be loving it.’

As the waiter brought the bill, her phone rattled against her leg in her bag.

Shilpa

You out?

Bel

What’s this, the girl version of ‘you up’? You’re HERE again, aren’t you? Yes I am out, with the gentlemen from work *skull and crossbones emoji*

Shilpa

Got bored so came & worked in coffee shop here for the afternoon and then a sundowner called to me. Fancy a cocktail in Schofield’s? BRING THE MEN. I’m a people person.

Oh God, Bel shouldn’t have shown Shilpa that photo of monstrous Connor Adams. She should’ve told her he looked like Danny De Vito’s Penguin. Shilpa liked to insert herself into the narrative– in this case, hoping the narrative would insert itself into her.

Bel could slip away, but she saw Aaron and Connor look at her expectantly: Aaron with hopes of a second venue, and Connor with the cynicism of: let’s hear your awkward exit line.

‘My friend is out for a drink near here. Anyone want one for the road?’

Distressingly and unexpectedly, both of them claimed they did.

10

Shilpa had secured a high table in the chic, wood-panelled surrounds of Schofield’s, arranged on a mid-century leather stool with one leg wound elegantly round the other. She was in a black silk jumpsuit with Chinese dragon appliques, hair in long bunches, lips Ruby Woo red.

She’d beenworking in a coffee shop, had she? Bel pointed to the outfit and covertly flicked a couple of Vs at her, behind the men’s backs, as she introduced them all with courteous poise.

‘Verynice to meet you, Shilpa,’ Aaron said, reanimating in the presence of an attractive woman.

Aaron was thirty-one and Bel imagined the plan was to acquire a Mrs Aaron in a timely fashion and have some mini Aarons. For all the irreverent mockery, she sensed he was quite straight-laced traditional. Bel sensed a highly influential father in his background: often Aaron’s cadences and references were those of an older generation.

‘My round, what’s everyone having?’ Bel said.

‘Another Troublemaker, please,’ Shilpa said, with a head tilt smile, prompting Bel to shake her head and mouthyou …

‘Pint of … Guinness,’ Aaron said, wincing at the minimalrow of draught taps. He had northern thrift, he’d explained to Bel, andonly my nan drinks things with glacé cherries.

Connor flipped the menu on the table open. Shilpa gazed at his hair. Bel half expected her to plunge her face into it and inhale, Hannibal Lecter style.

‘Clover Club, if that’s OK, please,’ he said.

‘Good choice,’ Shilpa simpered.

‘Sure,’ Bel said, feeling pathetically grateful at the ten minutes’ peace this was now going to afford her at the bar, while they bashed fruit and swizzled mixtures with long metal implements.

‘Take a seat, I’ll come over,’ said a barman, as she approached, and Bel said a gritted-teeth thanks.

‘How long you known Bel, then, Shilpa?’ Aaron said, as they settled into their positions.

‘Since we were fifteen and both got detentions. Bel was writing letters to her French pen pal, Rodolphe, while pretending to take notes in biology and I defended her. I pointed out she was doing work, because she was writing inFrench.’

‘’Ow you say, le penis, j’taime, Rodders,’ Aaron said.

‘With this story, you know both our natures,’ Bel muttered, and saw the odious Connor Adams smirking.You don’t know me.

The bunch of chauvinism-based snap judgements Connor had made about Bel weren’t the same as insight. Was Connor posh? His modulated BBC newscaster voice said maybe, but Barking didn’t sound like an area with aristocrats.

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