‘I see.’
They sank into silence as Rhona negotiated her way out of Heathrow, Netta using the time to privately cave in at the thought of having to meet Morrison Maplestone in person, her racing heart egged on by the sudden rush of nerves.
‘So,’ said Rhona, ‘how was the flight?’
‘I’ve only ever flown economy so I was pretty blown away,’ said Netta, grateful for the distraction. ‘I mean, the space! It was nice not to have to origami myself into a tiny seat or have to climb over a chronic snorer to get to the toilet.’
Rhona grimaced and opened her mouth to answer but was cut off by her phone ringing loudly through the car speakers. ‘You rang?’ she answered in a put-on posh accent.
‘You answered,’ came the deep reply.
Holy shit. It was him. Netta’s heart rate stepped up to a pace she was sure couldn’t possibly be healthy.
‘I’m just calling to make sure you picked up the right Australian woman from the airport.’
‘Very funny. You’re on speaker, so behave,’ said Rhona, her voice back to normal. ‘Netta’s here with me. We’re on our way to the hotel.’
There was a brief moment of silence before Morrison cleared his throat. ‘Netta, hi. How was the flight?’
‘Um, it was great. Thanks.’
‘Well, that’s good,’ he said, stiffly. ‘Thanks for coming. I know it must seem like madness, but … Well, I appreciate it.’
‘You’re welcome,’ Netta said, desperately resuscitating her composure. Her blood had pooled in her toes, far, far away from her brain. ‘The notebook is safe and sound.’
Morrison paused again. ‘Would it be okay if I collected it in the morning? I’ll let you rest tonight. It’ll be late by the time you get to the hotel and you must be exhausted. I’ll come past at eleven?’
The last drops of blood keeping Netta alive joined their mates in her toes and she felt her face blanch. She turned her head to look at Rhona, whose eyes were fixed on the road, her mouth battling a smile.
‘Ah, yep. Okay.’ Netta had never heard her voice so high-pitched in her life. Morrison Maplestone would be forgiven for thinking he was dealing with a chipmunk. She swallowed and willed her vocal cords to relax. ‘That would be fine.’ Now her voice was coming out weirdly deep. Brilliant.
‘Great, I’ll see you then,’ he said. ‘Rhona, I’ll chat to you soon. I need to talk to you about the gala.’
‘Oh, goodie,’ chirped Rhona, ‘are you going to tell me you’ve done what we talked about?’
‘Ah, no. Not exactly.’
Rhona sighed dramatically. ‘You’re a pain in my arse, Morrison Maplestone.’
‘I love you too, Rhona.’
‘Yeah, yeah. Just find someone. Please. The gala’s in five days, my friend. Five days! I’ve already told them you’ll be there plus one. Agoodone. As discussed! Comprende?’
‘I’m on it.’
The phone cut out and Netta closed her eyes briefly, regrouping. Taking a proper breath. Organising her thoughts. It would be fine! He’d just get the diary and go. It’d be over in a couple of minutes. Seconds maybe.
‘I love him dearly,’ said Rhona, ‘but he reallyisa pain in my arse.’
‘Have you been his manager for long?’
‘Long? I’ve been his manager forever!’ Rhona laughed. ‘I discovered him when he was twenty-three, busking at a Tube station. I heard his voice and knew straight away he was something special. He’s like family to me now.’
‘So,’ started Netta, ‘I’m not asking you to tell me what it is, but do you know why he’s so keen to have the diary back?’
Rhona glanced across at Netta, then back at the road. ‘You reallyhaven’tread it, have you?’
‘No! Of course not! I couldn’t. I’d die from the guilt of it. Especially knowing how much he wants it back.’
