Warhol's Prophecy (19 page)

The office they now stood in was huge. It contained an enormous desk, a leather sofa, a glass coffee table and two other high-backed leather chairs. There were even more flowers in vases set on either side of the large picture window that overlooked the car park fronting the building.

Hailey walked back and forth, gazing out of the window, while Marsh took a seat behind her desk.

‘It’s good to have you back, Hailey,’ he said finally. ‘I know it won’t be
just
like it used to be, with you being part-time now, but I hope it’ll do for you.’

‘It’s good to
be
back, Jim. Thanks for keeping my old office for me.’

‘I knew you’d be back eventually. You were made for this job.’

She smiled and leant on the window sill, pulling down her skirt slightly.

‘Things haven’t changed much around here,’ he told her. ‘A lick of paint, a few new faces. That’s about it.’

‘You never did like change, did you, Jim?’

‘Mr Predictable, that’s me. Anyway,
I’m
not the one who’s changed – it’s
you.
What’s it like being a mum?’

‘Tiring.’ She smiled.

‘How
are
your family?’

‘Fine.’ She kept the fixed smile in place.

‘Rob didn’t mind you coming back to work for me?’

‘Not at all,’ she lied.

Very convincing.

‘I’m delighted you agreed to come back,’ he told her. ‘I’ve tried other girls here, but they just haven’t got it.’

‘Got what?’

‘What
you’ve
got?’

‘And what’s that?’

‘It’s indefinable,’ he chuckled, getting to his feet. ‘I had one girl here a while ago. Lovely girl, long blonde hair, good-looking, legs up to her armpits. You get the picture?’

‘Decorative.’ Hailey smiled.

‘I even paid for a boob job for her. Five bloody grand.’

‘Jim, for God’s sake,’ she laughed.

‘She
looked
great, but she didn’t have it up here.’ He tapped his temple.

‘You sexist pig,’ chuckled Hailey.

‘No, don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean she was thick. Like I say, she
looked
great. Wherever we went together, she turned heads. I took her to Rome, New York, you name it. But she couldn’t do the job. Not like
you
used to do it.’

‘Did she become another notch on the Marsh bedpost?’

‘What’s that got to do with it?’ he wanted to know.

‘Oh, come on, Jim. You don’t usually employ your PAs for their typing skills.’

‘You’re still the only one who’s had it all, Hailey. Looks, brains,
and
the same sort of work ethic as me. You get the job done.’

‘Jim, you can stop the bullshit now. I’m back, OK?’ She sat down behind her desk after he stood up and moved to the other side of the room. ‘Just don’t forget: it’s only part-time. No more trips away. No more working until midnight.’

He held up his hands. ‘I hear you.’

‘So, what’s first on the agenda?’

‘Well, I thought I’d give you a few hours to settle in, get the feel of the place again. You might have become a bit rusty.’

She raised an eyebrow.

Marsh smiled. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘here’s the deal. Have you heard of a band called Waterhole? They’ve just released an album called
Playing with Andy Warhol
, whatever the hell that means. Advance sales are huge.’

‘I’d have to have been living in a cave on the moon
not
to have heard of them.’

‘Right. Well, as you know, in less than a month it’s the twenty-fifth anniversary of the founding of SuperSounds, and I’ve managed to negotiate a deal with Waterhole to play a gig locally in celebration. They use only our gear.’ He sat down in one of the high-backed chairs, after pulling it closer to her desk. ‘That’s high-profile. The advance ticket sales are over ten thousand already, and they’ll be double that by the time the gig takes place. All the proceeds go to charity.’

‘So where do
I
come into all this?’ Hailey wanted to know.

‘They’re a big band, Hailey. About the biggest there is at the moment. The only problem is they’re arseholes. I know they haven’t exactly got the monopoly on that in the music business, but these guys have raised being pricks into an art form.’

‘Yes, I’ve read all about them. Didn’t one of them get arrested last week?’

‘For decking a journalist at some showbiz party. The guy was just taking pictures and the guitarist got the hump and broke his nose.’ Marsh shrugged. ‘I think that dozy slag he’s going out with objected to the intrusion.’ He shook his head.

‘They’re in Canada at the moment, aren’t they?’

‘They fly back tomorrow. They’ve been in trouble out there, too: mouthing off about the Royals and shit like that. Very original. They want to be the new wild men of rock, but they’re only
playing
at it. Sticking two fingers up at cameramen and spitting at your own fans doesn’t make you the new Sex Pistols. Try biting the heads off a few bats, driving cars into swimming pools, or lobbing TVs out of hotel windows – that’s more like it.’ He grinned.

‘So what do
I
do with them?’ she wanted to know.

‘You liaise with their press office and their record company, make sure this gig goes off without any hitches. With all the proceeds going to charity, I’ve managed to get some local big nobs involved too. The local MP is going to attend. And we’ve got a big party lined up too, after the gig. Yours truly gets to present the cheque to the heads of the chosen charities. I need you to work closely with
them
, too.’

She nodded.

‘So, let me get started,’ she said. ‘By the way, Jim, what about getting one of the guitarists from Waterhole to donate a signed guitar after the gig, for auction? You could raffle it at this party you’re having. I’m sure those local dignitaries would be only too happy to fork out for it. Especially as the money
is
going to charity. It’ll make whoever buys it look good too, won’t it?’

‘And you wonder why I wanted you back?’ Marsh grinned.

He turned and headed towards the door.

‘All the info you need is on the computer,’ he added. ‘Any problems, give me a shout.’ He paused at the entrance. ‘Thanks again, Hailey.’

‘Thank me when it’s all over,’ she said, smiling.

He closed the door, leaving her alone in the office.

T
HE PUBLIC BAR
of the Tawny Owl was relatively empty for a lunchtime. The smell of liquor mingled with the odours of food; the sound of a dozen conversations competed with music from the jukebox.

Rob Gibson sat back in his seat, glancing around, tapping one finger on the table as he listened to the music.

‘
. . . I’m all out of faith, this is how I feel . . .
’

He saw Frank Burnside paying for the drinks, then make his way carefully back through the light crowd of customers towards their table.

‘
. . . I’m cold and I am shamed, lying naked on the floor . . .
’

Burnside set down the two glasses of Jameson’s, and seated himself opposite his partner.

‘
. . . Illusion never changed, into something real . . .
’

‘Maggie would go mad if she could see me drinking.’ Burnside smiled.

‘Oh, come on, Frank,’ Rob protested. ‘If you can’t have a drink to celebrate becoming a father, when
can
you?’

‘I suppose you’re right.’

‘Of course I’m right. Get it down you. And congratulations. When’s it due again?’

‘November. I didn’t want to say anything until we were sure this time – after Maggie lost the last one. And neither of us is getting any younger.’

‘Cheers,
Dad
,’ chuckled Rob, raising his glass in salute.

The two men drank.

‘I remember when Hailey got pregnant,’ Rob mused. ‘I felt like a kid with a new toy. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy. She moaned because I wouldn’t touch her, but I was scared of hurting the baby. And when Becky was born . . .’ He allowed the sentence to trail off. ‘She was born by Caesarean. I was the first one to hold her. I couldn’t believe it. Hailey and I just looked at each other and burst into tears. When I was ringing people afterwards, I kept crying too. I think it’s relief as much as anything. You know that they’re all right, they’re healthy. It’s like the wait’s been worth it.’

‘How
are
things between the two of you now?’ Burnside wanted to know. ‘If you don’t mind me asking?’

‘It’s still difficult,’ said Rob. ‘It’s been worse since I got back from Manchester. She started work again today, too.’

‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’

The look on Rob’s face told Burnside that it wasn’t.

‘She claims it’s only part-time, but I know what she’s like. She loved that job. If Marsh asks her to put in a few extra hours, she’ll do it.’

‘What’s the problem?’

‘I don’t want her working too many hours. I don’t want her with
him
any more than she needs to be.’ He sipped his Jameson’s.

‘Why?’

‘He fancies her – I’m not stupid. When they used to go away together on business, I reckon he had a crack at her. He might even have fucked her.’

‘Come on, Rob, don’t you trust her? Hailey wouldn’t do anything like that.’

‘How do
you
know, Frank?’

Burnside looked at him evenly, then took a sip of his own drink.

‘She might feel that she wants to get back at me now, especially after what happened with Sandy. If Marsh comes on to her again, she might just go for it. Just to get back at me.’

‘How old’s the guy? I thought he was in his fifties.’

‘So what?’

‘Give Hailey a bit of credit, Rob. If she really wanted to get back at you, I’m sure she could find some other way.’

‘Yeah, maybe. But then she doesn’t know what happened while I was in Manchester, does she?’

‘Meaning?’

‘Sandy came up.’

‘For Christ’s sake, Rob. I thought that was over.’

‘It
is.
I didn’t fucking plan it. She turned up at the hotel. She spent the night.’

‘You fucked her?

‘She put it on a plate, Frank.’

‘I don’t understand you . . .’

‘Don’t come over all sanctimonious on me. It doesn’t suit you,’ Rob snarled.

‘As long as she’s around, it’ll never be over, will it?’

Rob drained what was left in his glass.

‘Are you in love with her?’ Burnside continued.

‘How many times do I have to tell you?
No!
I told you before, this
never
had anything to do with love.’

Burnside, too, finished his drink. ‘I’m going back to work,’ he said.

‘What’s wrong, Frank? Are you disgusted? Do I offend your sensibilities? Your morals?’

‘I told you, I just don’t know what’s going on inside your head.’

‘Well, that makes two of us.’

Rob got to his feet and headed for the bar.

‘I’ll see you in a while,’ he said. ‘I need another drink.’

Burnside opened his mouth to say something, then realized it would be pointless.

When Rob turned around again he saw his partner disappearing out of the door.

He held the Jameson’s in his hand for long moments, then downed it in two huge swallows.

H
AILEY WAS BEGINNING
to wonder if she’d lost her touch.

Either that or it was going to take her longer to ease back into this job than she’d originally thought.

Or maybe it was just the people she was dealing with.

Yes, that was it. It was the people she was dealing with.

She looked at the computer screen before her, then at the phone. Only seconds before she had been speaking to one of the girls

(
well, be fair, she didn’t sound much older than about twenty
)

in Waterhole’s press office.
Her
name had been Catrina

(
with a ‘C’, she’d stressed, not a ‘K’
)

and she’d informed Hailey that she really needed to speak to someone called Trudi

(
without the ‘e’
)

who was out of the office for the time being. So, Hailey thanked Catrina with a ‘C’, and asked her to get Trudi,
without
an ‘e’, to call her as soon as she came back into the office.

The screen showed the names, addresses and phone numbers of everyone relevant, ranging from Waterhole and their record company, press office and management office, to the local MP and
his
offices, both at Westminster and locally. There were also the names of numerous other local dignitaries that Marsh wanted present at the after-gig party.