Page 47 of Cover Story

He cleared his throat. ‘The ad hominem stuff about loaded parents was especially over the line. Sorry.’

Bel thought he might’ve blushed.

‘From Aaron, I assume?’

‘Yes. He was being gossipy but not nasty. The weaponiser was me.’

‘Whatever backgrounds we’re from, let’s agree we both work hard and don’t want to get sacked?’ Bel said. ‘I’ve never asked about your upbringing. It’s got no bearing on anything.’

‘Agreed. That was the “chip on my shoulder” you identified, because being the intern aged thirty-four sometimes does a number on my self-worth.’

‘OK. Apology accepted, I guess,’ Bel said, stiffly. She had to accept it, given the grovelling. It was inconvenient to her prejudices that she thought it was sincere, too. ‘Sorry about your girlfriend. The photo you have at the office made me think you were very loved-up.’

‘Ah, that’s never been about her, really. My dog Maurice died at the end of last year and he was the love of my life. I know having pictures of late pets on display is somewhat open to ridicule, so it was a way of smuggling him in.’

‘Oh. Right.’

Bel was duly disarmed. Connor had now admitted to: being dramatically cucked, needing anti-depressants and mourning a dog as his true love. Bel conceded he had bared a fair amount of soul. He’d not expected to be forgiven with some stilted formalities or awarded points just for turning up, this was material she could use against him. The strategy underlying his approach was clear: he was showing he was willing to trust her, in return for being forgiven. He had judged it right: she’d not tell Aaron any of this.

Connor looked at his feet.

‘You might’ve already spoken to Toby, or Amber. Or you might not want to work with me anymore. But I’m willing to carry on with our couple charade, if you want me to.’

Bel’s mouth opened, and she said: ‘I’ve only confirmed to Amber that our dinner’s on, I’d not said anything about you.’

Connor smiled up from under his brow.

‘You are truly jazz freestyling, aren’t you? You’d confirmed it anyway?’

‘It was a placeholder ‘yes’ while I figured it out.’

‘Dare I ask how we’re throwing a dinner party? And where?I didn’t think letting them know where you lived was part of the plan.’

Bel found she was actually relieved to have someone else to brainstorm this with. She’d never wanted Connor involved, but it was a bonus to have someone in her corner.

‘I’ve fretted about this, but my rent comes up for renewal in eight weeks. I can always bounce on if I decide the Kendricks knowing where I live is too hairy.’

‘You’d do that? It’s pretty amazing,’ Connor said, looking round, then their eyes met as they mutually recalled last night’s take on that.

‘As you might’ve alluded to, it’s nice but it’s ruinously expensive so there would be an upside to being forced to relocate. I don’t see how else we could make somewhere else look inhabited for one night. Even if I got an Airbnb, she’s a Superhost. She might recognise the listing.’

‘Fair point.’

Bel folded her arms. ‘Shall I give you a quick tour, so you know your way around ahead of Saturday? Shilpa’s here, by the way. Shilpa, show yourself.’

‘Hi, Connor!’ Shilpa said, sitting up on the other side of the kitchen.

‘Oh, hello! Good to see you,’ Connor said, and Bel noticed he seemed authentically pleased at her presence, despite Shilpa obviously having overheard his climb-down. Was he fundamentally decent, or did he have a soft spot for her? Both felt unlikely– it was one or the other.

Bel walked Connor round the sitting room, the dining room, the ground-floor guest bedroom with en suite, then they clanked up the metal spiral staircase to the primary bedroom.

Bel was glad that Shilpa was downstairs, as showing Connor the king-size bed they were meant to share was a little disconcerting.Here’s where we don’t have the earthquake sex that you don’t know I boasted about– kill me now.

‘Very large en-suite bathroom back there,’ Bel pointed.

‘Man, this pisses all over my digs in Salford, I can tell you that much,’ Connor said, hands in pockets. He politely made no move to firsthand inspect the bathroom, which Bel was quite glad of given there was a box of heavy-flow Tampax on the loo cistern and tights, like shed snakeskin, on the floor.

‘Would you be all right to bring a few things for the bathroom and the wardrobe and so on, on Saturday? Theatrical props? We don’t need to go overboard but if they ask to look round, we’ll need some set dressing– a bottle of aftershave and a toothbrush.’

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