Page 59 of Not the Man I Thought We Was

The beginning of an idea comes to me. “You’re right,” I tell her. “I think I know what to do.”

“Attagirl!” she replies. “Good luck and keep me posted. Keep me posted on the job too!”

“I will,” I promise, and ring off.

A few minutes later I’m in Carphone Warehouse, buying the cheapest pay-as-you-go phone they have available. I did think about just getting another sim card, but the phone is only ten pounds and the idea of owning a ‘burner’ phone tickles me. It’s not a make I’ve heard of, the screen is tiny, and it has actual buttons for dialling numbers. It’s perfect. As soon as I get it home, I insert the sim and plug it in to charge. I start to put flesh on the rest of my plan while I wait.

By the time the charge symbol has got to fifty percent, my patience has run out. I unplug the phone and punch in Toby’s number. I realise my hands are shaking with excitement and my heart is in my mouth.

“Toby Roberts. How can I help you?”

It’s him. The rush of relief at hearing his voice nearly derails me, but I force myself to stick to the plan. He’ll probably hang up If he finds out it’s me, and I can’t risk that.

“Hello,” I say. I lower my voice so it hopefully doesn’t sound like me, and I’m trying to speak in what I think is an Eastern European accent.

“I vish to book photo shoot. Sexy photos, you know? As gift for boyfriend.”

“A boudoir shoot? Yes, I can certainly help you with that. What did you have in mind?”

“Must be vairy discreet. Boyfriend is, how you say, high profile. Must be vairy private. You haff back door? Nobody must see.” I’m really not sure about this accent, but he doesn’t appear to have twigged, and that’s the main point.

“All of our shoots are discreet, I can assure you. We do have a back door, so that’s no problem. It will just be you, me, and a chaperone that I trust.”

“No! No chaperone. Vairy private. Just you and me.”

“I’m sorry, but I have to insist. It’s for your protection as well as mine.” Damn. I need him on his own. I can’t do this with an audience.

“Vairy well. I vill bring this chaperone.” I won’t, but he doesn’t need to know that.

I can practically hear him thinking down the phone line. Eventually he replies.

“OK, that’s fine. When would you like to come?”

“Must be soon. Boyfriend is out of country on business. Ven he comes back, he does not like me to go away from him.” What is this gibberish that I’m spouting?

“I do have a slot free on Friday afternoon next week, from two until five. It’s a cancellation. After that the earliest slot I could give you would be…” I hear him flicking through the pages in his diary, “April the fifteenth.”

“Next Friday is good. I cannot wait until April.”

“Let’s get you booked in then. Can I take your name?”

“Name is Kristina.”

“And your surname?”

“Vot for you need my surname?” I ask, trying to sound angry. This accent is terrible, and I’m struggling not to laugh.

“I don’t technically need it. It’s just a detail I normally take, along with your address and email.”

“Surname is Olgatov. But no address. No email. Must be vairy discreet, I told you.”

“I normally email the studio address and a copy of the paperwork that needs to be signed.”

“Vot paperwork?” Shit, I didn’t consider that I might need to sign stuff.

“Because of the intimate nature of the shoot, I need proof that you’re over eighteen years of age, and written consent from you that you’re participating of your own free will.”

“But I can sign this on Friday, no? Ven I come? I can bring passport with me.”

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