I've Got Your Number (43 page)

T
his time I don’t have any trouble getting in to the building—there’s practically a reception committee waiting for me. Sam, Vicks, Robbie, Mark, and a couple more people I don’t recognize are standing by the glass doors, ready with a badge and handshakes and lots of explanations, which last all the way up in the lift and which I only half-follow as they keep interrupting one another. But the gist is as follows: The voice mails are 100 percent incriminating. Several members of the staff were pulled in for questioning. Justin lost his cool and practically admitted everything. Another senior staff member, Phil Stanbridge, is also involved, which everyone’s gobsmacked by. Ed Exton has disappeared off the radar. Lawyers are having meetings. No one’s sure yet whether criminal proceedings
will occur, but the point is, Sir Nicholas’s name is cleared. He’s over the moon. Sam’s over the moon.

ITN is slightly less over the moon, as the story has turned from
Government adviser is corrupt
into
Internal company problem is sorted
, but they’re still running a follow-up piece and claiming they were the ones who discovered everything.

“The whole company’s going to be shaken up by this,” Sam is saying enthusiastically as we stride along the corridor. “The lines are going to be redrawn.”

“So you’ve won,” I venture, and he comes to a halt, smiling as widely as I’ve ever seen him smile.

“Yup. We’ve won.” He resumes walking and ushers me in to his office. “Here she is! The girl herself. Poppy Wyatt.”

Two guys in jeans get up from the sofa, shake my hand, and introduce themselves as Ted and Marco.

“So, you’ve got the famous phone,” says Marco. “Might I take a look?”

“Of course.” I reach into my pocket, produce the phone, and hand it over. For a few moments the guys examine it, pressing buttons, squinting at it, passing it from one to the other.

There aren’t any more incriminating voice mails on there
, I feel like saying.
Believe me, I would have mentioned them
.

“You mind if we keep this?” Marco says at last, looking up.

“
Keep
it?” The dismay in my voice is so obvious, he double-takes.

“Sorry. It’s a company phone, so I assumed …”

“It’s not anymore,” says Sam, frowning. “I gave it to Poppy. It’s hers.”

“Oh.” Marco sucks air through his teeth. He seems a bit flummoxed. “Thing is, we’d like to do a thorough examination of it. Could take a while. I could say we’ll let you have it back afterward, but who knows how long that’ll be….” He glances at Sam for guidance. “I mean, I’m sure we can get you a replacement, top of the range, whatever you want.”

“Absolutely.” Sam nods. “Any budget.” He grins at me. “You can get the highest-tech phone available.”

I don’t want the highest-tech phone available. I want that phone.
Our
phone. I want to keep it safe, not give it up to be hacked about by technicians. But … what can I say?

“Sure.” I smile, even though there’s a little wrenching in my stomach. “Have it. It’s just a phone.”

“As for your messages, contacts, all the rest of it …” Marco exchanges doubtful looks with Ted. “What are we going to do about that?”

“I need my messages.” I’m alarmed at how shaky my voice is. I feel almost violated. But there’s nothing I can do. It would be unreasonable and unhelpful to refuse.

“We could print them out.” Ted brightens. “How’s that? We print everything out for you, then you’ve got a record.”

“Some of them are my messages,” points out Sam.

“Yes, some are his.”

“What?” Marco looks from me to Sam. “Sorry, I’m confused. Whose phone is this?”

“It’s his phone, really, but I’ve been using it—”

“We’ve both been using it,” explains Sam. “Jointly. Sharing.”

“Sharing?”
Marco and Ted both seem so appalled, I almost want to giggle.

“I’ve never come across anyone sharing a phone before,” says Marco flatly. “That’s sick.”

“Me neither.” Ted shudders. “I wouldn’t even share a phone with my girlfriend.”

“So … how did that work out for you?” says Marco, looking curiously from Sam to me.

“It had its moments,” says Sam, raising his eyebrows.

“There were definitely some moments.” I nod. “But, actually, I recommend it.”

“Me too. Everyone should try it at least once.” Sam grins at me, and I can’t helping smiling back.

“O-kay.” Marco sounds as though he’s realized he’s dealing with a pair of nutters. “Well, we’ll get to it. Come on, Ted.”

“How long will you be?” asks Sam, and Ted wrinkles his face.

“Could be a while. An hour?”

They disappear out of Sam’s office, and he closes the door. For a minute we just look at each other, and I notice a tiny nick on his cheek. He didn’t have that last night.

Last night
. In an instant I’m transported back to the forest. I’m standing in the dark, with the smell of the peaty ground in my nostrils, with woodland sounds in my ears, with his arms wrapped around me, with his mouth—

No.
Stop
it, Poppy.
Don’t
go there. Don’t remember, or wonder, or …

“What a day,” I say at last, groping for some nice bland words.

“You said it.” Sam ushers me to the sofa and I sit down awkwardly, feeling like someone who’s doing a job interview. “So. Now that we’re alone—how are you doing? What about the other stuff?”

“Nothing much to report.” I give a deliberately careless shrug. “Oh, except I’m calling my wedding off.”

As I say the words aloud, I feel slightly sick. How many times am I going to have to utter those words? How many times am I going to have to explain myself? How am I going to cope over the next few days?

Sam nods, wincing. “OK. That’s pretty grim.”

“Not brilliant.”

“You speak to him?”

“Wanda. I went to see her at her house. I said, ‘Wanda, do you really think I’m inferior, or is this just in my mind?’ “

“You didn’t!” exclaims Sam, looking delighted.

“Word for word.” I can’t help laughing at his expression, even though I half-want to cry too. “You would have been proud of me.”

“Go, Poppy!” He lifts a hand to high-five me. “I know that took guts. And what was the answer?”

“It was all in my head,” I admit. “She’s actually quite a sweetie. Shame about her son.”

There’s silence for a while. I feel so surreal. The wedding’s off. I’ve said it aloud, so it must be true. But it feels about as real as
Aliens have invaded
.

“What are your plans now?” Sam meets my gaze, and I think I can see another question in his eyes. A question about him and me.

“Dunno,” I say after a pause.

I’m trying to answer his question, silently—but I don’t know if my eyes are doing their job. I don’t know if Sam can understand. After a moment I can’t bear looking at him any longer and quickly lower my head. “Take things slowly, I guess. There’ll be a lot of crap to deal with.”

“I’m sure.” He hesitates. “Coffee?”

I’ve had so much coffee today I’m like a jumping bean, but, on the other hand, I can’t stand this heightened atmosphere. I can’t gauge anything. I can’t read Sam. I don’t know what I expect or want. We’re two people who were briefly thrown together by chance and are now conducting a business transaction. That’s all.

So why does my stomach lurch every time he opens his mouth to speak? What on earth am I expecting him to
say
?

“Coffee would be great, thanks. Do you have decaf?” I watch as Sam fiddles with the Nespresso machine on a counter at the side of his office, trying to get the milk frother to work. I think it’s a welcome distraction for both of us.

“Don’t worry,” I say at last, as he jiggles the frother, looking frustrated. “I can have it black.”

“You hate black coffee.”

“How do you know that?” I laugh in surprise.

“You told Lucinda once in an email.” He turns, his mouth twisting. “You think you were the only one who did a little spying?”

“You have a good memory.” I shrug. “What else do you remember?”

There’s silence. As his gaze meets mine, my heart starts a little drumbeat. His eyes are so rich and dark and serious. The more I stare at them, the more I
want
to stare at them. If he’s thinking what I’m thinking, then—

No. Stop it, Poppy. Of course he’s not. And I don’t even know what I’m thinking, not exactly….

“Actually, don’t worry about the coffee.” I get to my feet abruptly. “I’ll head out for a bit.”

“You sure?” Sam sounds taken aback.

“Yes, I don’t want to get in your way.” I avoid his eyes as I pass him. “I’ve got errands to run. See you in an hour.”

I don’t run any errands. I don’t have the impetus. My future’s been derailed, and I know I’m going to have to take some action—but at the moment I can’t face dealing with it. From Sam’s office I wander as far as St. Paul’s Cathedral. I sit on the steps in a shaft of sunshine, watching the tourists, pretending I’m on holiday from my own life. Then, at last, I make my way back.

Sam is on a call as I’m shown in to his office, and he nods at me, gesturing apologetically at the phone.

“Knock knock!” Ted’s head appears around the door, and I start. “All done. We had three operatives on it.” He comes into the room, holding a massive sheaf of A4 paper. “Only trouble is, we’ve had to print each text on a separate piece of paper. It’s like ruddy
War and Peace
.”

“Wow.” I can’t believe how many pieces of paper he’s holding. I surely can’t have sent
that
many texts and emails? I mean, I’ve only had the phone for a matter of days.

“So.” Ted puts the sheets down on the table with a businesslike air and separates them into three bundles. “One of the lads has been sorting them as we’ve gone along. These are all Sam’s. Business emails, so forth. In-box, out-box, drafts, everything. Sam, here you go.” He holds them out as Sam gets up from his desk.

“Great, thanks,” says Sam, flipping through them.

“We’ve printed out the attachments as well. They should all be on your computer too, Sam, but just in case…. And these are yours, Poppy.” He pats a second bundle. “Everything should be there.”

“Right. Thanks.” I leaf through the papers.

“Then there’s this third pile.” Ted wrinkles his brow as though in puzzlement. “We weren’t sure what to do about this. It’s … it’s both of yours.”

“What do you mean?” Sam looks up.

“It’s your correspondence to each other. All the texts and emails and whatnot that you sent backward and forward. In chronological order.” Ted shrugs. “I don’t know which of you wants it or whether we should chuck them—are they important at all?”

He puts the pile of papers down, and I stare at the top sheet in disbelief. It’s a grainy photograph of me in a mirror, holding the phone and making the Brownie sign. I’d forgotten I ever did that. I turn to the next page to find a single printed text from Sam:

I could send this to the police and have you arrested.

Then, on the following page, is my answer:

I really, really appreciate it. Thx

That feels like a million years ago now. When Sam was just a stranger at the other end of a phone line. When I’d never met him, had no idea what he was like … I sense a movement at my shoulder. Sam has come over to look too.

“Strange, seeing it all printed out,” he says.

“I know.” I nod.

I come to a picture of manky teeth and we simultaneously snort with laughter.

“Quite a few pictures of teeth, aren’t there?” says Ted, eyeing us curiously. “We wondered what that was all about. In dental care, are you, Poppy?”

“Not exactly.” I leaf through the pages, mesmerized. It’s everything we said to each other. Page after page of messages, back and forth, like a book of the last few days.

WHAIZLED. Use the D from OUTSTEPPED. Triple word score, plus 50-point bonus.

Have u booked dentist yet? U will get manky teeth!!!

What are you doing up so late?

My life ends tomorrow.

I can see how that might keep you up. Why does it end?

Your tie’s crooked.

I didn’t know your name was on my invitation.

Just stopped by to collect your goody bag for you. All part of the service. No need to thank me.

How did Vicks react?

As I reach the texts from last night, I catch my breath. Seeing those words, it’s as though I’m back there.

I don’t dare look at Sam or give away any hint of emotion, so I calmly leaf through as though I’m really not bothered, catching just the odd text here and there.

Anyone know you’re texting me?

Don’t think so. Yet.

My new rule for life. Don’t go into spooky dark woods on your own.

You’re not on your own.

I’m glad it was your phone I picked up.

So am I.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

You’re nowhere near.