Radio Gaga (15 page)

“Lark, get your butt into the studio, ASAP.”

My eyes were still closed but it definitely wasn’t daylight yet. I had obviously woken in the middle of a nightmare. I could have sworn I’d heard Merv’s voice yelling at me.

“Lark!
Flaming heck, have you gone back to sleep? Get in here now. Steph’s sick and you’ll have to do the morning show.”

I unglued my eyes. It was Merv. I must have answered my mobile while I was still half asleep.

“'K, on my way.”
I rolled out of bed and snagged the nearest clothes I could find from the pile on the floor. A tug of the brush through my hair and I was in the car on my way to the radio station.

The nearer I got to the studio the more awake I became. By the time I pulled onto the almost deserted car park my adrenaline had well and truly kicked in. What was wrong with Steph? And how come Merv had asked me to cover for the morning show? I would have thought I was probably at the bottom of the list of cover staff, especially as Steph hated me.

Gail, the producer let me in through a side door. “You’ve got thirty minutes till airtime.”

I followed behind as she scurried down the darkened corridor towards studio one. My tongue had glued itself to the roof of my mouth and I was desperate for a cup of tea.

“What’s happened to Steph? Where’s Merv?” I almost trod on Gail when she stopped suddenly just inside the studio.

“No idea. Merv called to say Steph was out sick and you were standing in. That’s as much as I know.” She clicked on the lights over the decks and began her prep work. “You look rough.” She peered at me as if suddenly realising that I wasn’t my usual perky self. “I’ll get you some tea.”

I managed a grateful smile as she vanished back into the corridor. I popped on a headset and started to familiarise myself with everything. The interviews I’d prepped from yesterday were there. Gail came back bearing a large steaming mug of tea and, joy of joys, two chocolate Hobnob biscuits. With five minutes to airtime I was pretty well set.

I’d stood in before on various shows. Usually, since Steph had started, I ended up doing the midnight-'til-two a.m. slot. The only people listening then were insomniacs, taxi drivers and shift workers. The last time I’d done the breakfast show had been shortly before Steph had joined the station, when the previous incumbent’s liver had rebelled due to his excessive alcohol consumption and he’d been carted off to hospital.

The sugar boost supplied by the tea and biscuits started to kick in along with a huge dose of nerves. I’d been okay while I’d been waking up and getting everything ready. Now, as the seconds counted down and I listened to the news coming through my headset as the other studio prepared to switch across I wanted to throw up.

* * *

Before I knew what had happened the show had ended and it was time to sign off. I flipped the switch and placed the headset down on the desk with shaking fingers. I’d done it. I’d presented the breakfast show again. Much as I disliked Steph I didn’t really want her to have plague or something. Though I couldn’t help but hope she might be ill for a while longer.

Merv was in reception as I went through. At least, now I’d already got my day in, I could go for my interview with the TV people with a clear conscience.

“Same time tomorrow, Lark.”

A ‘well done Chloe, thank you so much for doing the show, it was fab’ wouldn’t have gone amiss. However Merv being Merv, that was never going to happen. I wanted to ask about Steph but Tracey was gently shaking her head in the background. I’d have to ask her later when he wasn’t around to find out what was going on. Maybe Steph was pregnant and morning sickness had kicked in with a vengeance or it could have something to do with the fights she’d been having with Merv.

I signed out and headed to my car. A single long-stemmed red rose was jammed under the front wipers complete with a note. My fingers trembled as I tore the envelope open. The car park had filled up since my early morning arrival but I couldn’t see anyone behaving oddly.

‘Loved the show.
Good to see you take what is rightfully yours.’

A shiver ran down my spine. Had my stalker done something to Steph? Was that why I’d been asked to do the show? Tracey had said Steph had received some very nasty death threats. It looked as if I would have to make yet another trip to the police station. Not that it would do any good as again there was no threat contained in the note. It was simply a congratulatory message which could be from a fan.

I checked my phone once I was inside my car and the doors were locked. Congratulation messages from Shelly and Bhangra Bob on a good show.
Nothing from Ben.

All my excitement and pleasure at having finally done the breakfast show fizzled away to nothing. It had taken a big hit when I’d read the stalker note but Ben’s continuing silence killed it stone dead. I’d thought, hoped he would have messaged me with a ‘well done’ or ‘you were great’.

I sent replies to Bob and Shelly then took off for the police station. My train to London was only a couple of hours away and I needed to report the note, go home, shower, change and make myself look like a TV presenter in that time.

It took forever at the police station. I almost wished I hadn’t bothered, and they wouldn’t tell me anything about the progress of the case. They didn’t seem very interested in my latest note and rose. I was no clearer when I came away about whether an arrest was imminent or if something bad had happened to Steph.

There was barely time for me to shower and change before I had to belt off to the station. I ended up chucking my make-up into my bag along with my gas powered curling tongs. I’d have to try and fix my hair and my face on the way to the interview.

Luckily the train was on time for once so at least I didn’t have to stand around on the platform for ages. In my haste to get ready I hadn’t eaten anything since the biscuits Gail had given me. It was no surprise that my stomach was so empty I thought I might actually pass out. I ended up parting with a small fortune for a sandwich, some crisps and a rather stale doughnut from the buffet car.

The doughnut threatened to reappear as I made my way via taxi to the address I’d been given. For one thing the driver was obviously a frustrated grand prix wannabe and the second was that I was so nervous I could barely remember my own name by the time I arrived.

The TV company offices were housed in a genteel Victorian villa. The building didn’t look very prepossessing from the outside. Only a discreet silver coloured plaque on the wall outside next to the door intercom confirmed that I was in the right place. I wished Shelly could have taken the time from work to come with me. Unfortunately she was still in the doghouse with her employer from when she’d accompanied me to the hospital after the abseil incident.

I pressed the buzzer and announced my name to the disembodied metallic robot enquirer. The box on the wall crackled something inaudible back at me and the door opened. I found myself in a modern open plan space totally at odds with the exterior of the building.

A very polished-looking blonde haired woman scrutinised me from behind a pale ash wood and chrome desk.

“Um, I’m Chloe Lark, here for an interview about a programme.”

“Oh yes, sign in and then take a seat. Vera will be down shortly.” She graciously inclined her head towards a clipboard on the desk.

I did as I was told and then waited for the mysterious Vera to come and collect me. I didn’t recall Vera as the person I’d spoken to on the phone but then again I hadn’t taken much in at the time. I shifted uncomfortably on my hyper modern steel chair and wished they had some magazines to read.

“Cleo Laine?” A woman of about my mother’s age arrived in front of me in a swirl of colourful batik fabric and a tinkle of bracelets.

“Chloe Lark.”

She peered at me over the top of her glasses. “Oh, so you aren’t a jazz singer?” Her mouth drooped with disappointment as I shook my head. “Oh, that’s too bad.”

“I was asked to come for talks about a new programme. I’m Chloe Lark, from Live it
Up
radio.
The girl with the snake?”
Maybe I should have worn my ghastly yellow sweater and cap.

The woman frowned and squinted at me. “Oh yes, silly me, I remember now. Follow me.”

She led the way through a set of glass doors. I’m sure I saw the receptionist roll her eyes heavenwards as we left. I trailed behind as the woman swished her way up the stairs in front of me.

“I can’t think what made me think that you were Cleo Laine, dear me. I did want to ask you all about Johnnie Dankworth though. I’m terribly fond of jazz.” She stopped suddenly in front of a glass door.

Peering over her shoulder I saw two men and a couple of empty seats all grouped around a table. A bubble of nervous laughter began to build in the back of my throat. I hoped they didn’t think I was Cleo Laine as well. I swallowed my nerves back down. I had a horrid feeling this would be like the Blue Peter audition all over again.

I was ushered inside and commanded to sit by my escort who promptly took the other vacant chair.

“Chloe, we’re delighted you could come today. That clip of you on You Tube with that snake.” The older man of the two shook his head, a big grin on his face. “Honey, I nearly peed myself laughing. Then, when I read about that abseil thing?” He shook his head again.

His male companion laughed as if the older man had said something witty. I managed a weak smile and hoped I didn’t repeat my abseil performance of throwing up on his shoes before passing out. Personally, I didn’t think anything that had happened to me had been that hilarious.

Vera, who my mystery escort turned out to be, informed them that I wasn’t Cleo Laine. At that point the whole meeting took on a crazily surreal feeling. Vera was banished to make coffee and herbal tea while my companions discussed what they might do with me, TV-wise, of course. I attempted to comment a few times and ask questions but they ignored anything I said and carried on as if I hadn’t spoken.

In the end I sipped my nasty-tasting ginger and redcurrant tea and gave up. Eventually it appeared they wanted me to do a short series of programmes based on my Challenge Chloe slot. They intended to try for interest in a pilot with the intention of it leading up to becoming a series.

I vaguely remembered agreeing to them sending me a contract before I shook hands all around and exited the building. I’d never been so glad to escape from somewhere in my life. It had been even worse than Blue Peter and that was saying something, considering after that audition I’d been rushed off to casualty covered in red weal’s and itching like crazy.

They’d asked about my agent and I’d given them Shelly’s name and address telling them she was new to the business. She did work for a law company after all and maybe I’d be able to get an agent when the contract materialised.
If the contract materialised.
I set off back towards the station thinking that Ben had been right when he’d tried to warn me about the downside of fame.

I checked my phone once more when I was on the train and sent a quick text to Shelly to warn her that she was now my agent. There was still nothing at all from Ben. I hesitated for a minute wondering what to do. I didn’t want to chase him but it seemed odd that he was simply blanking me. Finally I decided to send him a

‘U ok?’

If I didn’t hear anything then I’d know my beautiful love affair was over before it had properly begun.

Tiredness from my early start caught up with me as I left the station and set off for home. My stomach reminded me I had nothing for supper in the fridge so I made an unscheduled stop at Mr Hassan’s store. It was disconcerting to see unflattering images of myself illuminated by neon lighting all around the outside of the shop. It didn’t do much for my ego to see someone had marker-penned devil horns and a moustache on one of the pictures.

I collected a battered metal basket from by the door ready to trawl the shelves and hoped Imran wouldn’t be around. My last encounter with him had left me shaken. The shop was quiet and Mr Hassan stood at the till leafing through the evening paper.

“Chloe, you are back so soon. I listened to you this morning on the radio. You were very good.” He beamed at me and my spirits lifted.

“Thank you. I was called in at short notice.”

“Will you be spinning the discs again tomorrow?” He closed his paper and looked at me expectantly.

“Steph is still off so yes, it’s another early one for me.” Talking about the morning reminded me how tired I felt. Not that I needed much prompting, there.

“You are very good for business. Publicising the shop is the one good idea my useless nephew has had.” Mr Hassan sighed and shook his head. “That boy will be the death of me. He is always disappearing. I only took him on to please my wife’s sister. I warned him when he came, any funny business like before when you were at your father’s office and I’ll send you home.”

A chill crept along my spine and I feigned an interest in some cans of tomato soup.

“Um, what kind of funny business?”

Mr Hassan stroked his moustache and considered his reply. “He was infatuated with some woman who worked at his father’s office. My wife’s sister says the girl took advantage and the boy was simply being foolish the way boys are these days. Anyway this girl was upset and complained and so his father says he must work somewhere else.”

My hand shook as I selected a can of spaghetti hoops and dropped it into my basket. I wanted to drop my shopping and run out of the store as fast as my legs could carry me. If Imran had previous for crazy behaviour towards women then maybe it was him and not Kevin I needed to be worried about.

“Oh dear.”
I didn’t know what else to say. I grabbed some chocolate and biscuits and headed back to the till.

“I don’t know where he has gone tonight. He was supposed to be working in the stockroom but again he has disappeared and his phone is on voicemail.” Mr Hassan grumbled as he rang up my purchases.

I fidgeted as he took his time placing my groceries into a bag. I was desperate to get out before 'Imran the Weird' came back.

“Have a good show tomorrow, Chloe. What is it you showbiz people say? Break a leg.” He looked pleased with himself for having remembered the saying.

I resisted the urge to snatch my shopping from him. Instead I pasted a smile on my face and hoped I sounded normal as I thanked him and said goodnight.

Once I was safely inside my car I locked the doors and headed straight back to my flat. The sooner I was indoors with everything locked and bolted the happier I would be. I screeched into my parking spot next to the front door. Ben’s car was missing again and I wondered where he’d gone. Even if he wasn’t answering my texts, just knowing someone else was in the building made me feel safer.

I was about to get out of the car to scuttle to the front door when something made me stop mid-movement. The blind covering my kitchen window was half down and I never ever left it like that. I always pulled it right up in the morning and rolled it down at night so I could look through the slats. I tried to remember if in my early start I’d followed my usual routine.

My heart leapt into my mouth and I fumbled in my bag for my phone, keeping my gaze on the window. To my horror my kitchen light came on. Someone was in my flat. The phone slipped through my fingers and onto the floor of the car. I ducked down in my seat frantically trying to find it while hoping the intruder wouldn’t glance outside and see me in the car.

I tried to peer through the side window to see who was in my kitchen but I couldn’t see anyone. My hand located the shiny hard case of my phone and I closed my fingers around it. I’d barely lifted it from the floor when it rang out in my hand. I thought I was about to have a heart attack as I pressed the button to silence the music.

“Chloe, what are you doing messing about outside in the dark?” My mother’s autocratic tones sounded in my ear.

I waited for a second for my heart to resume beating. My mother was inside my flat? What was she doing here and why hadn’t she told me she was coming? I rang off without answering her and grabbed my shopping.

The shake in my hand as I unlocked my door was caused by anger. I’d been frightened half to death when I’d realised someone was in my kitchen. I’d completely forgotten that she had a spare key.

She turned to face me as I stormed into the lounge. “I thought you would have been home before now. I’d started to worry.”

“What are you doing here? Why didn’t you call? Do you realise you scared the living daylights out of me? I thought I’d got burglars. You’re lucky I didn’t call the police.”

She seemed unfazed by my outburst. “I thought it would be a nice surprise if I came up early. I’ve got a couple of days free and thought we could get some of the shopping done for the wedding. You need to try on the dress I’ve picked out.”

“In case you forgot, Mother, I have a job. I can’t take days off willy-nilly.” I started to unpack my groceries, slamming the packets and tins into the cupboard.

She followed me into the kitchen and paused in the doorway. “There was a young man here earlier asking for you.”

“Here?” My knees went weak. For a brief wild moment I thought it might be Ben before reality told me that if it had been him then my mother would have said so.

“Yes, someone called Kevin, a rather scruffy boy in a hoodie. He left a message for you that Fred was ill and not to worry about going to the allotment.”

I let out a breath. “Thanks.” Relief flooded through me that it wasn’t Imran that had called. Although knowing Kevin had been to my flat didn’t make me feel that great either.

“He really isn’t your type,
Chloe,
I do hope you aren’t thinking of taking up with him. He would be most unsuitable.”

“Mum, my love life is no business of yours. Thanks to you I had Neil here the other day.” I dropped two slices of bread into the toaster and set about attacking a tin of spaghetti with a can opener.

“Oh?” My mother looked hopefully at me.

“I threw him out.” I waved the can opener in her direction. “I never want to hear from him or see him ever again.”

Her face fell.
“Poor Neil.
That was rather harsh, Chloe. Although there’s always Ben I suppose,” she suggested. Her expression implied she thought Neil was the better option.

I resisted the urge to scream. “Stay out of my private life!”

“Angus and I were talking, and there’s plenty of room for you if you wanted to give this place up and move to
Scotland
to live with us. You’d soon find a better job and-”

“Mother, I am not giving up my flat. I like my job. How many times do I have to ask you to stop trying to organise my life!” I was holding on to my temper by a shred. My jaw physically ached from biting down on my desire to make a retort that I knew I’d regret later.

“I know my remarrying came as a shock and Angus and I feel you may be threatened by his daughter’s success. I’ve studied some very helpful books on the effects of divorce on children. Low self-esteem and inadequacy are common issues.”

The toast popped up in the toaster. My appetite for food had completely vanished. I didn’t know why I was even bothering to have this conversation with my mother. It would end the way all our conversations ended. I would feel guilty and she would remain convinced that she was right.

“You know what Mum? I don’t care about Angus or his daughter. I’m pleased, no, delighted, that you’ve managed to find someone else. I’m actually very happy in my career choice and in my flat and with my friends.” I abandoned the spaghetti hoops and picked up my toast buttering my thumb in my haste to escape to my room. The odious Angus must have spent ages conferring with my mother about my terrible, unsuccessful life. I was under no illusions that was why she’d come down to visit again.

“Oh Chloe, now I’ve upset you again. Angus thought you and I should do some mother and daughter bonding over the wedding shopping. It would give us the opportunity to explore the issues between us so you’d feel included.” An all too familiar bewildered expression clouded her eyes.

“I’m up early in the morning. I’m going to bed.” I scooped up my buttery toast and walked past her. There was no way I could handle this kind of conversation right now. I’d just made it into the lounge when the doorbell buzzed.

Balancing my plate of toast with one hand I slipped the security chain on the door with the other. I opened the door a crack and peeped out. Ben stood on my doormat. My body heated at the sight of him. A day's growth of beard shadowed his chin and there were strain lines around his mouth.

“Ben, are you okay?” I fumbled to open the door; aware my mother had followed me into the hall and was hovering a few feet away.

“We need to talk.” His gaze locked with mine and I forgot I was cross that he hadn’t replied to any of my texts. Something was wrong, very wrong.

“What’s the matter?” I opened the door wider and stepped back waiting for him to come inside.

He glanced over my shoulder and I turned to see my mother peering at us. “I didn’t realise you had company.”

“Give me a minute.” I left my toast on the hall table and scooped up my keys. “I’ll come up to your place.”

I closed the front door and hurried up the stairs behind Ben. As soon as he opened the front door I was in his arms. He kissed me hard, his stubble grazing my cheek and his mouth almost bruising mine. I clung onto him, my head in a whirl as I responded to the raw energy of his kiss.

Breathless, I broke apart and ran my hand down his cheek. “I was starting to worry. You didn’t answer any of my texts.” My heart pounded against my ribs.

Ben raked his hand through his hair. “I was the same about you. It’s been hellish. There’s a lot I need to tell you, come and sit down.”

He took my hand and led me into the lounge. I cuddled up to him on the sofa and waited for him to explain. I had a horrible sense of doom that I couldn’t shake off. Ben was always so calm and orderly. Something bad must have happened to shake him up so much.

“Chloe, please, please promise me you’re going to be very careful. Somebody tried to run Tash down yesterday.” His voice shook with emotion.

“You mean on purpose or it was an accident? Is she hurt?” Concern for Tash mingled with bewilderment. What had a car accident involving Ben’s sister got to do with me being careful?

“On purpose.
It was a stolen car, the police found it abandoned a few miles away. She managed to jump out of the way but she sprained her ankle and it left her shaken up and covered in scrapes and bruises.”

“And she’s sure it was on purpose?” Why on earth anyone would try and hurt Tash I couldn’t imagine.

Ben released a shaky sigh and scrubbed at his chin. “She’d had a text supposedly from me to meet her. Whoever sent it said it was urgent and that I was in
trouble.
So she answered and went.”

I stared at him. “What? I mean how?”

“My phone’s been stolen and whoever took it sent the message to Tash and then tried to kill her or at least scare her. They left another text while we were at the hospital getting her ankle x-rayed.”

“That’s awful.”

“The next one said unless she stayed away from me she’d die. They couldn’t have worked out that she was my sister. All I can think is that whoever sent it thought I was two-timing you with her.”

I was suddenly glad I hadn’t had my supper. “But if that was the case then wouldn’t they be pleased if you and I broke up over another woman? Or do you think it’s the same whacko that’s made Steph ill? Have you been to the police?”

“Of course, not that I think it’ll do any good. That was when I found out that you’d been down there too. I had no way of getting in touch with you to warn you. If someone is that mad then I wasn’t sure if he was keeping track on your phone or your car. Whoever is behind this is stark raving bonkers. There’s no logic to any of his actions.” He leaned back against the sofa. “I was so relieved when I saw your light on tonight.”

“This is crazy.
Crazy and sick.”

“I know.” His voice sounded weary.

“I’m sorry I seem to have dragged you into my madness.
Poor Tash.”
I couldn’t quite take it all in. Surely the police had to do something now.

“Tash has gone back to stay at the parents. From now on, until the police get this guy, whoever he is, I’m sticking to you like glue. There’s no way of knowing what’s likely to happen next and the police don’t appear to be very on the ball with it.”

I swallowed. “Okay.” I wasn’t in any frame of mind to argue. It sounded as if I needed a bodyguard.