Rosen looks anxious. ‘Look, can I ask why you emailed me, not one of her close friends?’
‘Because Emma and her close friends are as thick as thieves, and I thought they’d go straight to Emma and tell her I’m digging around. And I didn’t want to upset her with the news that I’ve been writing her obit when she’s only just got the all-clear.’
Rosen thinks about this for a while. Then: ‘Are you genuinely worried about her?’ he asks.
I nod.
‘OK,’ he says, slowly. ‘OK. Listen – my loyalty’s always going to be to Emma, but I’ve had my concerns about what was going on back then. If she was in some sort of trouble I’d never forgive myself for covering it up. Especially if it’s kicking off again.’
Especially if what’s kicking off again?
‘She had a visitor, one time. When we were filming in Northumberland, for the second series. I was up until the wee hours every night, photocopying shooting scripts and – well, on our last night I saw her talking to a man in the hotel bar. Late, when she thought we’d all gone to bed. And I saw them in a cafe in London a few weeks later. Near Broadcasting House.’
I sink my hands in my pocket. My fingers are shaking. ‘Do you know who the man was?’
There’s a long silence.
Then: ‘Jeremy Rothschild,’ he says quietly. ‘You know? The broadcaster?’
Recent memories replay at a screaming speed, while everything else becomes slow and silvered. A taxi pulls up at the edge of the road and my phone starts ringing.
He must be wrong. Emma has never met Rothschild. She speaks about him the same way she’d speak about Justin Webb or Mishal Husain, the otherTodaypresenters – she enjoys him slaughtering politicians, doesn’t rate his wife as an actress and that’s that. Unless – ? No. No.
I stare at the wet tarmac beneath my feet, trying to make sense of what he’s saying.
‘The only reason I’m telling you,’ he says, ‘is that she was always upset after his visits. Like, exhausted, blotchy face, as if she hadn’t slept all night. I don’t know what they were talking about, but it worried me. Especially the time I saw them in that cafe in London; Rothschild looked quite angry. Emma had only just found out she had cancer; she had a lot on her plate. I was concerned.’
I can’t speak.
‘I’ve sometimes wondered if it was Janice Rothschild who got Emma sacked. She was a big BBC name, she’d definitely have had the clout. She’s been one of their stars forever.’
His face changes: he’s worried he’s said too much. ‘Look, you mustn’t say this came from me,’ he begins, before I cut him off.
‘I won’t. I promise I won’t. But Robbie, I need to know more. Why would Janice get Emma sacked? What was going on with Emma and Jeremy Rothschild?’
He shrugs again, helplessly. ‘I really, truly don’t know. I guess Janice might have got wind of their meetings, and . . . ?’
‘I see.’
I don’t see. Emma and Jeremy Rothschild at a table together doesn’t even begin to make sense.
‘I’m only telling you because the whole thing worried me at the time. I had a nasty feeling about their relationship – whatever was going on between them, it wasn’t good for Emma at all. And now with Janice going missing, I really don’t like it. I know the police have said Jeremy Rothschild isn’t a suspect in his wife’s disappearance ... But you can’t help wondering, can you?’
A thin line of anxiety rises in me. This hadn’t crossed my mind.
‘He knocked out a pap once, a few years back,’ Rosen says. ‘Did you know that?’
‘I did.’ Robbie can’t have been much older than ten when it happened.
‘At the time everyone was, like, Jeremy was seriously provoked, yada yada, but if all of us lashed out when things got hard, the world would be a pretty violent place, wouldn’t it? I think he’s got a dark side.’
‘Food for thought,’ I say, forcing a smile. Then: ‘Look, thank you. I appreciate your honesty. Especially when I’ve been so dishonest with you.’
Rosen shrugs. The rain starts again.
‘One final thing. You wrote Emma a note – just a line about not wanting to miss out on saying goodbye to her – but she’s gone out of her way to keep it safe. Why do you think that is?’
I see a flash of pride, amid the unease.
