Page 54 of Not The Man I Thought He Was

‘Are you still there?’ Charley asks.

‘Yes, sorry, just thinking. Do you know what, I don’t think I have?’

‘Have what?’

‘I don’t think I’ve ever been in love. I’ve been in “like”, and I’ve been in “lust”, but I’ve never felt the way I do now about any man, ever.’

‘That’s love.’

‘Fuck.’

‘Yep. Question is, what are you going to do about it if he won’t take your calls?’

‘I need a way to get him to answer,’ I say to her. ‘In fact, I need more than that, because what I really need is to talk to him face to face. I know! You could ring him for me, and tell him he has to meet me.’

‘Oh no. Leave me out of this.’

‘But I went and got Ed for you!’

‘Yes, and you’ll never know how grateful I am, but the difference is that you did that behind my back. I never asked you to get involved and, if I had, I’m pretty sure you would have been just as robust with me as I’m trying to be with you. Come on, Mads. Where’s all that resourcefulness you normally have?’

I have the beginning of an idea. ‘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 rather than a touchscreen. 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 indicator has got to 50 per cent, 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!’ I practically bark. ‘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?

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