The Other Side of the Door, Nicci French [new reading .TXT] 📗

‘Not really.’

‘Who then?’

‘Neal’s doing it. And Amos and Sonia. I’ve roped in a pupil of mine. Well, an ex-pupil. And his father. And this other guy.’

‘Oh, yes, I’ve heard about him already,’ said Liza.

‘News travels fast! Who told you?’

‘Amos, as a matter of fact. A real musician. What’s he called?’

The mention of him set something off in me, a sense memory. Suddenly I could smell him, feel the texture of his skin, his hair. ‘Hayden. Hayden Booth. I think he just found himself with some free time.’

‘Bit of a handful, though.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘A real musician playing with a group of amateurs. It sounds like a recipe for conflict.’

‘There’s not going to be any conflict. Except the normal kind.’ I forced a smile. ‘Honestly, it’s a bit crazy. I just hope we can fake it on the night.’

There was a pause. Liza took a gulp of her wine and threw a few nuts after it. ‘I don’t just want to gossip about musicians, pleasurable as it is. You know I said I was going away?’

‘India.’

‘Close,’ said Liza. ‘Well, not very close. Thailand and Vietnam. Anyway, that’s irrelevant. What I wanted to say, or to ask, is that since, according to research I’ve conducted, you live closer to me than anybody else I know, I just wondered whether you could pop in every day, or every other day—every day would be much better—and water the plants, check the place isn’t burning down. Please, please, please, please. I’d be so grateful. I’d do anything for you in return.’

‘That’s fine,’ I said. ‘No problem at all.’

‘If you know anyone who’d like to stay here, that would be fine too.’

‘I’ll have a think.’

‘I’d have sorted it out myself but I never got around to it. Well, it’s an option. You’ll have the key.’

‘Just show me where the plants are and I’ll do it.’

‘And maybe stack any mail up there.’ She gestured to the pine table against the wall. On its surface stood a vase of flowers and a green tortoise pen-holder.

‘OK, will do.’

‘You could stay here yourself.’

‘I do actually have my own flat.’

‘You could stay here while it’s being done up.’

‘I’m doing it up myself.’

‘That’s what I meant.’

‘Liza, it’ll be fine. Your plants will be loved and cared for.’

After

‘That’ll do for today,’ I said.

‘You reckon?’ said Amos.

‘Is something wrong with that?’

‘I don’t think we got it right.’

‘Maybe we’re not in the right mood,’ I said.

‘It doesn’t work without Hayden,’ said Joakim. ‘That song’s built around his part.’

‘Where the bloody hell is he?’ said Guy. ‘Did he say anything to you, Bonnie?’

I hadn’t prepared myself properly for this. How much was I supposed to know? How angry was I supposed to be? I was the one who organized the rehearsals, who made sure everyone was available. Should I be baffled? Did I need to act hurt?

‘No,’ I said. ‘I suppose something came up.’

‘Maybe he just forgot,’ said Amos. ‘I don’t think we’re particularly high on his list of priorities.’

‘Could be.’

‘If he’s got some other project,’ said Guy, ‘it would be worth finding out and then we can get someone to replace him.’

‘Nobody can replace him,’ said Joakim.

‘Anybody can be replaced.’

‘We’d have to start again.’

‘We don’t have to think about that now,’ I said. ‘I’ll ring him and find out what’s going on.’

‘Do it now,’ said Amos.

‘OK.’

‘I mean right now.’

I took out my mobile and scrolled down to a number that I knew wasn’t operational and would never be operational again. I made a call to a phone that was now scattered in pieces in various parts of north London.

‘Hayden,’ I said. Was my voice trembling? This felt worse than almost anything, nearly worse than when the body had slid beneath the surface of the water. ‘Hayden. It’s Bonnie here, but where are you? We missed you at the rehearsal. Give me a call, OK?’

I snapped the phone shut.

‘Well, that’s not much use,’ said Guy.

‘He’ll call back,’ I said.

‘You should have been more assertive,’ said Amos.

As the instruments were put away, Sonia and I collected the mugs and took them through to the kitchen to wash up. I turned on the tap and faced her. She didn’t respond and I didn’t trust myself to speak. Then I felt a presence behind me, eyes burning into my back, and looked around. It was Neal.

‘How are you doing?’ he said quietly, leaning towards me.

I took a step backwards. ‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘What about you? Are you all right?’

‘I’m rather tired,’ he said, and he did look it, as if his skin was stretched tighter than usual. In spite of everything, I felt a spasm of guilty tenderness pass through me. He gave a small shrug. ‘I couldn’t sleep.’

‘Ah,’ I said uselessly.

‘It wasn’t the best rehearsal, was it?’

I looked at Sonia, who said bravely: ‘Things will get better, when Hayden’s back.’

‘Yes. Of course.’ Neal gave me an intense stare. ‘But remember, as Guy said, nobody’s irreplaceable.’

NEAL LEFT BEFORE anyone else and I watched him lope down the road, his head bowed. Then Guy and Joakim went off together, Joakim pasty and sullen, Guy still grim. Sonia asked if I wanted to go for a drink with her and Amos, but—unable to meet her eyes—I said I couldn’t. Sally rang me and said she’d love it if I could come round for an hour or so to look after Lola while she popped out on an errand. I told her I couldn’t: there was something I needed to do, and it was true. It had been sitting in my brain like an itch through the afternoon, growing more and more ungovernable as the rehearsal went on, so that by the end I thought I’d have to make an excuse to the rest of them and rush from the house.

I made myself wait until everyone had gone and then I double-locked the front door and posted the key back into the house. I walked, half jogging, to the Underground, pain jolting through my body with each step,