CLOSE-UP & PERSONAL

#CHAPTER 10#

To my embarrassment my body betrays me. The words have an instant effect and I feel myself growing warm everywhere. I wonder if he knows. I blush furiously at the thought. But my mind is a sudden riot of images of just how James Berkeley might have had me on the stage.

"Think about my offer," he says, the stern tone returning to his voice. "I will be in contact tomorrow."

I shudder uncertainly to my feet. It feels as though I have pins and needles in my legs, and I lean for a moment on the table.

"Are you alright?" he asks, concern spiking in his voice.

"I'm fine," I say, righting myself. "I'm not used to such high heels."

"Just be careful around Ben Gracey," he says. His eyes are full of feeling suddenly. "I know more about him than you."

"Who I spend my time with is none of your business," I say.

Yet, gloats some evil voice in my mind. I dismiss it. I don't think I want to work for James Berkeley and that's that.

Turning from him I stalk with as much dignity as I can manage back to where Lorna has now amassed a bevy of male admirers.

But behind me I feel a pair of green eyes boring into my back.



The evening passes in a whirl as Lorna and Ben flirt, and I brood over James Berkeley's words. A part in a movie.

Then before I know it the lights have gone down, and we're in the scrum of people trying to get a black cab home.

"Come on," says Ben, tugging Lorna with him. Let's get a mini cab. Lorna has had a few glasses of Champagne too many, and totters uncertainly behind him.

"Wait," I say, "Isn't it dangerous to take an unlicensed car?"

Ben gives a lopsided smile, born of plenty of whisky.

"We'll be fine," he says, throwing out his arm to signal a car.

A battered-looking Ford slows, and the driver winds down his window, giving us a smile filled with gold-teeth.

"I'm not sure about this," I hiss to Ben. "We were always told to take a black cab. An unlicensed cab is like getting into a stranger's car."

I realise I'm quoting from the warning posters pasted all over London. I sound ridiculous. But I'm also anxious. This car doesn't look like the kind of vehicle which we should be riding home in.

"Relax Isabella," says Ben, and I realise from his eyes that he really has had a lot to drink. "You're with me."

"Wait!" I say, but he's already moving to the cab.

"Come on Issy," says Lorna, her eyes pleading with me not to make a fuss. She obviously likes Ben.

"Ok," I say, taking an uncertain step towards the car. Ben mutters a few words to the driver, then opens the door and slides into the front seat. Lorna opens the back door. Then suddenly it is slammed shut by another hand.

I turn around in shock.

James Berkeley is standing by the car. His palm is flat on the battered door where he's shut it, and I have never seen a man look so angry.

His fury is so intense that I take a step back. Even Lorna, who is un-phased by anything, and tipsy in any case, gives him a timid smile.

"Hey," she says, "you look familiar."

"What do you think you're doing?" says James. His voice is tight with fury. At first I think he is angry with me. And then I see his words are directed at Ben.

In the passenger seat Ben's drunk grin subsides a little.

"Berkeley," he says, "long time no see."

Long time no see. So they know each other. I log the fact against the earlier conversations.

"Do not tell me you were about to take these girls in this unlicensed death trap?" James is glowering. Ben's smile fades completely.

"I... It's not a big deal," he says, "we can't all have our own drivers," he adds, with something like bitterness in his voice.

"These girls are not getting in that car," says James. And without waiting for a response he steers Lorna and I to his own BMW, which I now see is pulled up behind on the street.

Before I have time to think it through he's delivered Lorna into the backseat and steers me by the waist behind her. Inside I see that Lorna is entering the sleepy phase of drunk. I sigh. Ok. Better to get in and get her home.

Berkeley closes the door softly on the leather interior and takes a seat in the front, even though there's plenty of room in the back.

There's a thick glass screen of blackened glass between us, but after a moment this slides down, and James and his driver are revealed on the other side.

"I... Um. We live in Chelsea," I manage, wondering about Ben left alone in the other cab.

"I know where you live," growls James.

He does?

"Promise me you won't ever consider getting in an unlicensed car again. No matter what the incentive," he adds, with a meaningful glance at Lorna, who is now dozing gently on my shoulder. "Terrible things happen to girls who look like you," he adds.

I nod, not knowing what else to do. And seeming satisfied with this Berkeley eases up the glass window, leaving us alone in the back.

When we pull up outside our apartment he helps us both out of the car.

"Will she be alright?" he asks, looking at Lorna, who has sobered up, but is blinking with the sleepiness of having just woken up.

"Yes," I say, "she'll be fine. I'll get her straight to bed. She's just tired."

"And what about you?" his green eyes are resting on mine. "Doesn't seem like much of a fun night out for you, babysitting your friend whilst she picks up unsuitable men."

I shrug. What can I say? I'm used to it.

He seems to read my answer from my expression.

"Alright then," he says. "If you're sure you don't need help getting in I won't intrude on your time further."

And with that, he's back in his car, and it pulls away.

"Hey," says Lorna, more awake now. "Didn't he look like James Berkeley?"