‘Umm, okaay.’ Kelsey pulled a face.
‘Come on, seems like they’re busy, let’s go for a walk and nip back later?’ Mirren suggested.
‘I’ve met him before,’ Kelsey said as they stepped out into the cool breeze.
‘Who?’
‘That guy. He was at theExamineroffices when I was going to meet Mr Ferdinand. He was the first person to warn me I might not get paid and heworksfor the guy. I really should have listened.’
‘I’min town now, I could help you try to get your cash.’
Kelsey’s eyes widened. ‘Really?’
‘Oh, didn’t you know? I’m Mirren Imrie, slayer of badly behaved journos. Come on, I’ve a lot to fill you in on.’
‘Two tickets, please,’ Kelsey asked the woman at the cash register.
‘A butterfly house? Really?’ Mirren glanced around the souvenir shop.
‘Why not? You’re on holiday, aren’t you?’
‘OK, but I’m paying,’ Mirren insisted.
After a long argument in increasingly broad Scottish accents with lots of purse slapping andno,I’ll pays, Mirren inevitably won, paid for the tickets and the friends passed through the plastic curtain into the lush warmth of the big heated greenhouse.
‘Ahh, it’s like summer all over again,’ said Mirren, while forcing her purse back into the little zip on her suitcase.
Struggling out of their coats, they took in their new surroundings. The humid air was heavy with the zesty scent of tropical vegetation and alive with fluttering wings of every colour. Great blousy blooms neither of them could name adorned every green thing and great palm fronds reached up to the glass roof.
A pale blue butterfly settled on Kelsey’s sapphire jumper and she froze to the spot smiling down at it. ‘What do I do now?’
‘Just stay put,’ Mirren said, instantly lifting her phone and snapping a picture.
‘You could have warned me, Mirr.’
‘It’s beautiful, look.’ Mirren turned the screen.
Kelsey grimaced even though the picture was nice. ‘The thing about being a photographer is people stop taking your picture. I’m not used to it anymore. Do you mind sending it to me?’ She’d forward it to Jonathan later. He’d like that. ‘Not that I’m takinganypictures of anyone at the moment,’ she added glumly.
‘Let’s sit.’ Mirren perched on a wrought-iron bench and slipped on glamorous dark sunglasses, looking as though she were in a beachside bar in Saint Tropez and not a centrally heated greenhouse in Warwickshire, beautiful though it was. Kelsey joined her, bringing her butterfly friend along for the ride.
Mirren had filled Kelsey in on her mic-drop resignation on their walk across the old bridge over the Avon towards the butterfly house. Kelsey didn’t want to complain too much about her own work problems in light of her friend’s joblessness, so she said brightly, ‘So, it’s been, what? Six days? Have you looked into finding something new?’
‘I’ve already messaged my friends at other papers. I’m sure they’ll have some leads, but it’s best to let the dust settle first, get out of Edinburgh for a while. I’ll keep using my contacts. I’ll find something… with any luck.’ Mirren fell quiet.
It was hard for Kelsey to see what was going on behind the dark shades but she knew when her friend was acting bluff and bold but feeling small. She reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze, being careful not to disturb the butterfly which was slowly flexing its blue wings open and closed on her chest.
‘Do some of these contacts include the women you know at theChronical?’
‘That’s right. There’s Lucy in the advertising team and Aurora in editorial, they said they’d keep an ear to the ground and let me know.’
‘There you are then. Do they know what happened?’
‘They’d heard about it before I even rang them,’ Mirren said with a wry laugh. ‘If a job ever does come up there it would give me the perfect excuse to ask them about Jamesey and why he had to leave theChronicfive years ago. Not that the details would help exactly but it would be good to know if there was anyone else on the receiving end of his sleaze so we could at least compare notes and commiserate.’ Mirren seemed to think for a moment and they both watched the delicate insects flitting to and fro in the heat haze. ‘Ididmake quite a sweary exit, so I guess word’s got round all the newsrooms in Scotland by now. I might not be thebestprospect on the market… but I can always try freelancing?’
Kelsey was determined to rally her spirits. ‘Think of your Brexit piece. That went viralandyou got shortlisted for an award. That means you’re basically famous for your writing, and now you’re famous for taking a stand. It’s admirable.’
Mirren squirmed. If only she could have maintained the dignity and swagger she’d felt as she let Mr Angus feel her wits-end wrath. All she felt now was the same recoiling shame and burning resentment she’d experienced time and again as a child when she’d tried to stand up for herself at home and been met with laughter or dismissal in return for her bravery.
