The Dead Dog Day (16 page)

‘So, Benjamin – which one is it to be?' she said out loud. Pulling each garment out in turn, she held them in front of her and studied herself critically in the mirror. Not the orange dress – why had she brought that? Too clingy, although she looked great in it on a thin day. But, no. She didn't want to look as though she was trying to emulate one of her date's usual model types.

The black shift? Possibly. Simple, classy. But a bit too plain, maybe, for a Friday night out in London? She threw the two dresses on a chair and grabbed a black pencil skirt with a full-length zip down the back, and a sleeveless print shirt. With her black killer heels, definitely a sexy look. But – maybe too ‘secretary'?

‘Aaagh, I just don't know!' Cora groaned, wishing one of her girlfriends was around. She sat on the bed and looked at the black dress. Justin had always loved her in that.

Justin. She thought about him for a minute, her continuing anxiety about the situation suddenly turning into a flash of irritation. He'd said in that last message that he'd be in touch – why on earth was he taking so long, and ignoring her repeated messages? She was still determined to somehow get an explanation for his weird behaviour outside TV Centre, and for his disappearing act, no matter how long it took. But there were limits to her patience, and she was definitely reaching them. She was about to go on a date with someone else, and she needed closure with Justin. So if messages begging him to contact her weren't working, what else could she do? An idea struck her and, impulsively, she picked up her phone and tapped out a Twitter direct message.

@CoraBaxterMLive
@a-friend Justin – get in touch. I haven't said anything to the police about you in the CCTV. But I might. IF YOU DON'T CALL ME.

Would that do it? It wasn't exactly a threat, but it might spur him into action. Satisfied, she put the phone down and reached for the wardrobe again. The final three outfits were a pretty, purple, one-shouldered dress, with one full-length sleeve – another possibility, thought Cora – a white knitted maxi-dress (quickly dismissed for being too ‘Snow Queen'), and a grey silk shift with a low-cut back.

Cora picked up the black, purple and grey dresses for a second time, laid them all out on the bed and gazed at them for a full minute. Then, still undecided, she sighed and went to run a deep, bubbly bath. A minute later, she returned to the bedroom, opened the mini-bar and grabbed a quarter-bottle of champagne. She looked at the dresses once more and made a snap decision.

‘I choose – you,' she said dramatically, pointing at the grey shift. Then she and her champagne headed off for a delicious soak.

An hour and a half later, she brushed on a final coat of mascara and checked her reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of the hotel room door. The soft grey silk skimmed her curves, the scooped back showing off her lightly bronzed skin (courtesy of a subtle spray tan expertly applied by Rosie two nights earlier). Her favourite, diamond cuff bracelet, grey skyscraper-high Vivienne Westwood heels, and a studded clutch bag completed the look. Satisfied, but feeling more than a little nervous despite the champagne, Cora grabbed her coat and headed off for her date with Benjamin Boland.

22

‘A
traffic
exhibition? Seriously? You're winding me up!'

Benjamin laughed, perfect teeth flashing, and Cora grinned back at him.

‘Seriously. There's loads of them. Road traffic technology. I had to do a live broadcast from the NEC with traffic cones and make them sound interesting, I kid you not. I get all the glamorous jobs, you know.'

Benjamin shook his head in amazement and held out his glass. ‘Well, cheers to you then, Miss Baxter. You're even more brilliant than I thought you were!'

They clinked glasses, and Benjamin gestured to a passing waiter for another bottle of champagne. Cora leaned back in her seat, relaxed and more cheerful than she'd felt in ages. Who would have thought it? Her date was actually incredibly good company – charming, funny, and intelligent, and a lot less arrogant than his TV persona suggested. Obviously a little vain, but she was starting to suspect he wasn't quite as outrageously confident as he seemed. He was quite sweet actually. Delighted that she'd agreed to go out with him, Cora sipped her drink happily as Benjamin told her about the antics of his crew on a recent filming trip to Lapland. Justin – Justin who?

They'd been swapping television tales for nearly two hours now, ensconced in a cosy booth with purple velvet sofas in the VIP area of a trendy hotel. It was actually the after-party of the latest Guy Ritchie film premiere, although they hadn't gone to the film itself. Instead, Benjamin had taken her for a delicious meal at Claridges, before suggesting they pop in at the party on the way home.

Cora had been amused and slightly horrified when they were papped on the red carpet on the way in – photographers didn't normally bother her when she was alone, but as Benjamin Boland's date she was suddenly, it seemed, fair game. Thankful she was wearing a nice dress, she'd pulled her stomach in and posed like a pro, Benjamin's arm protectively round her shoulder.

Once inside, he'd whizzed her round the room at breakneck speed, exchanging hearty handshakes and air kisses with supermodels, soap stars, and Premiership footballers, before whisking her into the VIP area. And there they'd sat, sipping Dom Pérignon and nibbling on arty finger food, oblivious to the wall-to-wall celebrities around them.

To his credit, Benjamin had waited until the date had been at least two hours old before he'd mentioned diarrhoea. Eyes sparkling mischievously, he'd leaned across the restaurant table and hissed: ‘So – any joy with that cleaning job then?'

Cora had stared at him, bemused.

‘Pardon? What cleaning job?'

‘You know – the one in the home. For the people with that awful incurable condition. The one you said you'd rather do than sleep with me.'

He'd grinned widely as Cora blushed beetroot red.

‘OK, OK, I suppose I owe you an explanation,' she'd muttered, mortified. And quickly, without going into too much gory detail, she'd explained about Justin and the baby thing.

‘It was just bad timing – and an unfortunate turn of phrase, you know, when you asked me to go and make babies. I didn't mean I don't want to sleep with you. Er, not that I'm suggesting I do, of course,' she stuttered, blushing furiously again.

‘Of course not,' he'd replied, raising an amused eyebrow.

Then to Cora's immense relief, he'd taken pity on her, stopped teasing, squeezed her hand and changed the subject.

Now, her embarrassment forgotten, she tried not to think about how incredibly attractive he was as they chatted, knees gently touching under the table in a way that kept making her stomach do little somersaults.

‘So – how did you get the
Morning Live
job in the first place? You said you started in regional news, right?'

Cora nodded. ‘Yep. Newspapers first, then local TV news. Then I saw a job ad for an overnight producer on the national breakfast show and got a six-month contract. I never really wanted to be a producer, but it seemed like a good way in. The night shifts were awful though – I hated them.'

Benjamin nodded sympathetically and topped up their glasses. Cora watched him, trying to ignore the young
East Enders
star and her pop singer boyfriend frantically making out in the next booth. She dragged her attention back to the conversation as the girl vanished under the table. Good grief!

‘Anyway …' she continued. ‘When a reporter job came up I applied and because Jeanette already knew me and – amazingly – sort of trusted me, she gave me the job. And here I am!'

‘You're here – but she isn't, eh? Weird, that murder thing, wasn't it?' Benjamin said. ‘Police got any ideas yet?'

Cora shook her head. ‘If they have, they're not telling us. I'm supposed to be doing regular updates for the programme, but there's been practically nothing to report so far. She wasn't exactly popular though – did you ever meet her?'

‘Several times.' Benjamin grinned. ‘She was definitely a ballbreaker. I could see straight away why she had such a bad reputation in the industry – no interpersonal skills at all, really quite unpleasant. She tried to get me involved in
Morning Live
a while back, did you know that? Wanted me to do holiday cover for Jeremy what's-his-name, said it would attract a younger female audience. Couldn't pay me enough though. I don't do getting up early, and I don't do sitting on sofas. That show would bore the pants off me. No offence.'

His eyes twinkled and Cora punched him gently on the arm. Wow, muscles, she thought, and then turned as there was a sudden commotion at the entrance to the VIP area. Tara Kilcoyne, the British acting sensation who'd just landed her first role in a Hollywood blockbuster, flounced in, her killer figure barely covered in a tiny sequinned minidress. She was flanked by three hugely tall men in black suits and, despite it being night time, indoors and dimly lit, dark sunglasses.

Strutting towards the bar, she spotted Benjamin, pouted and waved a skinny hand bearing an enormous emerald ring, then wiggled past.

‘You know her, then?' Cora looked down at her own modest dress, feeling a little inadequate.

‘Oh, not really. We had a snog once at some do. It was ages ago, before she hit the big time. She's gorgeous, but thick as a … thick thing. Anyway – what were we talking about?'

‘Er … career paths, I think! So what about you? How did you get to be TV's action hero?'

Benjamin shrugged modestly and gave her a quick summary of his journey from personal fitness trainer to TV star.

‘Right place, right time. Used to train this TV producer, and when she heard about this new travel show that wanted an unknown she suggested I audition. And the rest is history.'

Cora was right though. Benjamin Boland was, at thirty-five, becoming a bit of a British TV legend. Host for the past five years of the BBC's flagship adventure travel show,
Go!
, he revelled in the exhilarating and often perilous activities the show demanded of him. The prime-time programme had been launched as an antidote to the tired old travel show format in which presenters did nothing more exciting than wander along beaches and sip cocktails in glamorous locations.
Go!
was entirely different, with its team of presenters, led by Benjamin, travelling to some of the most remote destinations in the world. Five years on, he was rarely out of the papers or off the ‘Sexiest Man on TV' lists. Plus, with his fat fee – which he'd managed to re-negotiate
again
this year despite all the budget cuts in TV nowadays – as well as all the cash from guest appearances and celebrity magazine deals, he was making a small fortune. He was at the top of his game, and he was loving it.

‘It's peculiar though, isn't it, this fame thing,' Cora was saying.

‘I mean, I only get recognised a bit, but you must get it non-stop.'

Benjamin nodded. ‘I do. But I don't mind. It has lots of advantages. Good restaurant tables, party invitations, money … I'm not complaining.'

Cora swallowed a tiny parmesan biscuit with a quail's egg on top. Despite the large meal she'd had earlier, she was definitely starting to feel a little inebriated. She picked up another biscuit, hoping the nibbles would soak up the booze. Next door, the
East Enders
actress finally emerged from underneath the table grinning tipsily, wiping her mouth, hair in disarray and lipstick smeared. Her boyfriend, one hand doing up his trousers, high-fived her with the other, and the two of them burst into raucous laughter.

Cora dragged her eyes back to Benjamin and carried on talking. ‘For me, the worst is when people who don't know me ask what I do for a living. And then, when I say I'm on telly, they say “Well, I've never seen you!” in a really accusing sort of way, as if I'm making it up. So I say, “Well, do you watch
Morning Live?
” and they say “no”, so I say, “well if you don't actually watch the show that I work on, of course you haven't seen me”. It all gets very … er … tedious …'

Her voice tailed off as she suddenly realised Benjamin was looking very amused. ‘Sorry – I tend to go on a bit when I drink champagne,' she giggled.

Benjamin shook his head and laughed with her. ‘No, it's great just to have a normal conversation with somebody for a change. The women I usually date, well – they just want to know what sort of car I drive and who I can introduce them to. You're a breath of fresh air, honestly.'

Cora flushed. ‘I suppose when you're in the same business, it's different. You're not so easily impressed, because you know it's just a job really.'

‘And a tough job,' Benjamin said. ‘I've lost count of the number of times I've let my friends down, I'm always having to cancel plans at the last minute because of work – that's the downside I guess.'

‘You and me both!' Cora drained her glass. ‘But at least if you're both in the industry, you understand. Justin wasn't, and he ended up hating my job. Anyway, enough about him …'

‘Indeed.' Benjamin leaned forward, picked up Cora's hand and stroked it gently, and she responded by moving closer, her eyes soft.

‘So, Cora Baxter. Fancy going somewhere a little quieter? Get to know each other properly? And no baby-making, I promise.'

Cora paused, visions of Justin racing through her head. Then she took a deep breath and made up her mind.

‘I think that sounds like a very good idea, Mr Boland,' she whispered.

And without another word, they slipped out of the party, hailed a taxi and headed for the South Bank.

23

Saturday 13
^th
January

Trying to move as little as possible, Benjamin reached a hand from under the duvet, groped on his bedside table for a slim black remote control, and pressed a button. Almost silently, the white blinds on the huge window opposite started to open, the weak mid-morning sunshine brightening the big room.