Page 50 of Cover Story

‘That’d have to be you– I don’t have the seniority to pull tactical sickies,’ Connor said.

‘Tell you what, I’ll run the problem for both of us past Toby. I feel I already know what he’s going to pick regarding “establishing the paper’s presence with Manchester’s finest” versus “Bel’s wacky caper he’s humouring”, however.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Interesting the shagger thing is now fully Out There in the gossip sphere, isn’t it? I always trusted my source but it’s still good to get it countersigned,’ Bel said.

‘Yes, though as Aaron points out, you need aggravating factors to make it reportable.’

‘I feel sure they’re there. This isn’t about a high sex drive, he’s a callous Jekyll and Hyde.’

‘Agreed.’

They worked on in a comfortable enough silence, Bel concentrating until she disconcertingly saw a WhatsApp arrive from her ex, Tim. He had her new number, but she’d given itto him as a courtesy, and it had only rated a thumb-up reply. This would need to be special circumstances. She opened it with apprehension.

Hi. Thought you should know I had a weird message from an Anthony Barr at theYorkshire Post.Asking for your mobile number. Said you were friends at the paper and he couldn’t get you to answer an email and tell him your new one. I pointed out he could call your office number, and he said oh yeah and went away. Amazing skills for a journalist. Whole thing felt off.

Bel began shivering like a cold dog while simultaneously almost levitating with rage. Anthony contacting Tim, who didn’t know they’d been together the night before she and Tim separated? A tanks-on-lawn move and it was a taunt to Bel. It was sadistic towards Tim, wide-eyed asking for fake assistance from the unwitting man whose ex-girlfriend he’d wooed. And getting her mobile number, without her consent? It was bait, but it was bait she couldn’t ignore.

Cheers, appreciate you passing that on, useful to know– I’ll sort. Hope you’re well. Bx

No worries.

‘Everything OK?’ Connor said.

‘Yes, why?’ Bel said.

‘You look like George W Bush on 9/11 when he was interrupted readingMy Pet Goat.’

‘Oh, got to make a call to my bloody internet provider, is all,’ she said, shoving her sunglasses on and marching out, gripping her iPhone like it was a stun grenade she was about to use in combat.

Downstairs, pacing the pavement, she pressed to call theYorkshire Postreception.

She knew she had to use this anger, surf on its superpower.

‘Hi, can I speak to Anthony Barr please?’

She simmered some more while she listened to the hold music.

‘Bel, how are you!’ Anthony said, deliberately loud, upbeat. The ‘I’m broadcasting this on the newsroom floor, your approach to me has been made known’ volume. With a strong note of triumph. He’d finally done something sufficiently provocative that he got contact.

‘Can you explain why my ex-boyfriend has had a message from you, asking for my mobile number?’

‘Oh, is he your ex? I wasn’t sure. Apologies.’

Bel bit down the one syllable, hard consonants word she wanted to throw at him for this. He knew perfectly well– she’d told him the day the split occurred. But telling bare-faced untruths was one of Ant’s ‘exhaust your opponent’ tactics.

Bel had learned that if someone is prepared to swear black is white, knowing you know they’re lying and not caring you both know this, you have nowhere to go.

29

‘I had an interesting tale for you about the John Rylands Library and thought it’d be great to chat it through with a Manchester publication.’

‘You could’ve called the office number here?’ Bel said.

‘Assumed you’d not want the story nabbed by whoever answered.’

‘Because you weren’t capable of asking for me specifically?’

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