Page 88 of Cover Story

Bel started laughing again. Connor loved how it felt to make her laugh. He remembered when she thought he was carved from a block of ice.

‘His poor wife …’ Bel said. ‘Imagine how controlling he is with her?’

‘Awful, but she’s beyond your help and probably wouldn’t want it if you offered it,’ Connor said.

‘Yeah.’

‘Anyway, if you feel safe now, you have a weekend to have. I should get off,’ Connor stood up. ‘I’ve sent the video to your number and to your email.’

‘Oh, thank you so much,’ Bel said, standing up too.

Connor had no ‘things’ to get so he picked up his tuxedo jacket and said: ‘High-end walk of shame look here.’

Bel smiled.

‘Connor. I hate asking for this, on top of everything else. In fact, I hate asking for it full stop.’

‘Yes?’

‘Can I hug you for a second? I need to be reminded of sanity, friends and allies existing right now. Not that cuddling the intern is bloody sane.’

Connor grinned and put his arms round her.

‘You’re using me as your Emotional Support animal? My exit interview from Manchester is going to be lurid.’

‘Exactly,’ Bel giggled, weakly.

Connor felt the heroic-protector glow return. That Bel had historically been so spiky, and had so little real need of him, made it all the more rewarding. Oh God, he hoped that wasn’t AnthonyBrain thinking. Some straight men really did ruin being a straight man for everyone else.

He was so pleased for Bel that her elegant takedown of Anthony had worked, at no cost to her. Had it gone awry, Connor had been entirely willing to, in Aaron’s parlance, twat the fucker.

‘Tell me Ant’s stopped now? My peace of mind is going to take a while to come back,’ Bel mumbled into his lapel.

‘Put it this way, if he doesn’t, your version of events is now unassailable. He’ll be blowing up his own life, not yours.’

Bel looked up at Connor, eyes cartoon-cat large.

‘I can’t bear people finding out I was stupid enough to suck him off, though.’

They both shook with laughter again. Connor couldn’t bear the thought of it either.

‘I hate to undermine your main character syndrome, but getting involved with someone and later not knowing what the fuck you were thinking, is a pretty common experience.’

Bel squeezed her eyes closed and Connor smoothed her hair, the way he had during the bedroom storm. They had come a long way for sure. He wasn’t certain they were friends, exactly, Bel’s word ‘allies’ was more accurate. They trusted each other.

‘You know what Ant and Glenn Bailey have in common?’ Bel said, quietly.

‘Stamina?’

‘They both think the cover story about themselves is so convincing that no one would ever believe there’s a whole other version that they’re inflicting on unsuspecting women. Ant saying I’d end up looking like the problem if we both went to the police was probably right. They think they’ve pre-invalidated complaints.’

‘One down, one to go,’ Connor said.

‘Yep,’ Bel replied, but she sounded uncertain, and Connor didn’t blame her.

50

‘My plant’s here!’ Bel said, childlike delighted at the colossal paper box blocking the stairwell. Toby had agreed the décor budget could stretch. She wrestled with the cardboard to free a potted palm in an earthenware urn. It turned out to be too heavy for her to move. After some comic straining noises and managing to wheel it an inch, the leaves shaking violently, Connor got up and moved it to the corner of Bel’s choice.

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