Page 84 of Cover Story

‘Thank fuck you don’t,’ Connor said.

Bel stirred her teaspoon in her cup.

‘Haha. It’s an insurance policy so that when he goes off the rails in private you can’t match it up with Public Anthony and he has all these defenders who’d refuse to believe it of him. He is “what if gaslighting was a man?”’

‘You know what this means, though?’ Connor said. ‘He has things to lose by his behaviour coming to light. Not only his marriage– his living with his kid, his salary. He has his reputation too. He’s been bluffing you. He’s doing this because he feels confident it’ll stay between you, and if not, his word counts. He’s been depending on your greater embarrassment.’

‘What are we going to do if he does turn up?’ Bel said.

‘I hold him up against the wall by his throat while talking like Batman to the Riddler, if he thinks he’s a Batman villain, that kind of thing? I’ll be honest, I hadn’t thought it through beyond thinking I might be useful.’

As much as Bel guilty-pleasure liked the idea of Anthony facing off with Connor, she felt it wasn’t the way.

‘He’d probably file an ABH charge against you. Imagine the police interviews and the official statements? Loads of exciting interacting, and with him roleplaying the wounded party.’

‘Wouldn’t that mean the background would come out and be bad for him?’ Connor said.

‘I think he’d get a kick out of my having to decide if I was going to talk about what brought him to my door. He’d give evidence at a mag’s court here in Manchester and pull favours at theYorkshire Postto not have it covered and his wife would never know. He’d make sure the office buzz was:hear that Bel Macauley mucked around with poor married bedazzled Ant and then when he had the temerity to ask why, got her new fella to lamp him? She’s not as butter wouldn’t melt as she seems.’

‘I refuse to believe he has this much power when he’s the one with more to lose,’ Connor said.

‘We’re journalists. What would we do with this story as journalists?’ Bel said.

All of a sudden, a plan came to her. It was simple and powerful and she couldn’t see a downside. She explained it to Connor, then they tested it out.

Connor said: ‘I have to admit this is better than hitting him. Its only flaw is it needs two people to execute it.’

‘For now, I have two people.’

As with many planned-for calamities, Anthony failed to show.

‘He’s our millennium bug,’ Connor said as Bel handed him a clean towel the following morning.

‘I’m still so grateful for you staying,’ Bel said.

She didn’t know how much Connor’s failed prophecy had been due to her winding things up and their being wankered, but it was incredibly considerate of him all the same. Also, she’dneeded to stop playing the Surely He Wouldn’t game. She was happy to lose this round, if this was losing.

Connor had a shower in the downstairs en suite while Bel made scrambled eggs on toast.

‘Apologies for no bacon, I didn’t expect to have a guest,’ she said, passing his plate over.

‘You mean you didn’t think you’d get lucky at the Northern Media Awards?’ Connor said.

‘That reminds me. I’ve had a text from Aaron wanting to know “where you and Adams got to?” We’re on the horns of a dilemma there.’

Connor paused, fork in eggs. ‘You mean …?’

‘I might tell him we’re working on a story. He’s going to be unbearable otherwise.’

As Bel got up to put the plates in the dishwasher, the doorbell rang. She went rigid and she and Connor stared at each other. Connor nodded at Bel and went to the sofa, where he was out of view of the doorway.

Bel steeled herself, counted to five before she walked over. After all that, it’d probably be a guy in a DHL tabard.

She yanked it open. It was Anthony. Standing there in a waterproof walking jacket with an expectant smile, like he was collecting for charity. She shouldn’t be surprised and yet she could scarcely believe it.

‘What the fuck are you doing here? Where did you get my address?’ she said.

‘Hah. Good morning to you too, Isabel,’ Anthony said, in a wry yet affectionate way, as if he was her father and she was a rebellious teenage daughter ruining the family brunch.To what do we owe the pleasure?

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