‘What’s she done now?’ Kate asked across Bella.
‘She’s completely obsessed with the man who runs this ethical bank we want to make a programme about. Now she’s threatening to dump me from production work altogether if I can’t fix up an interview with him!’
‘She can’t do that, can she?’
‘It’s such a small company, and so many people are desperate to work in television that she can pretty much do whatever she wants,’ said Phoebe despairingly. ‘Personally, I don’t see why we can’t just concentrate on the community projects which are the whole point of the bank, but Celia keeps banging on about the personal angle, and how this guy is the real story.
‘I’m afraid she wants to do one of those horrible, cynical hatchet jobs,’ she went on, opening and closing cupboard doors in search of the cafetière. ‘Her theory is that nobody could make that kind of money and be truly altruistic, so if this J.G. Grieve is setting up a bank, it’s because he’s getting something out of it for himself. So I not only have to arrange an interview with him, I also have to dig up any dirt I can find on him so that Celia can challenge him with it and make herself look like a fearless investigative reporter.’
‘Maybe there’s no dirt to dig up,’ said Gib lazily.
‘It’s beginning to look that way,’ Phoebe agreed. ‘All I’ve found out about him so far is that he goes climbing occasionally. It’s hardly the stuff of which award-winning documentaries are made, is it?’
She poked through the debris on the counter. ‘Where’s the coffee gone?’
‘In the fridge,’ said Bella before reverting to the problem in hand. ‘Maybe climbing is just the first clue you need to track him down,’ she suggested. ‘Mountaineering’s quite a small world, isn’t it, Josh? Someone might have come across him. These rich guys always need someone to nanny them when they do dangerous sports like that,’ she added authoritatively, as if she had years of experience of dealing with the rich and famous.
‘That’s a good point.’ Phoebe straightened from the fridge and turned back to the table. ‘You’re always running up and down mountains, Josh. Have you ever come across a J.G. Grieve?’
‘I can’t say the name means anything to me.’ Josh looked across the table at Gib. ‘What about you, Gib? You’ve done some climbing. Do you know anything about him.’
Tipping back in his chair, Gib pulled down the corners of his mouth. ‘Bankers aren’t the kind of guys I want to spend much time with,’ he said. ‘They’re usually pretty boring.’
‘Well, this guy can’t be that boring, or why would he refuse all interviews?’ Phoebe pointed out. ‘Most people in his position would do anything for publicity. The fact that he won’t even consider it does make it seem as if he’s got something to hide. Maybe Celia’s right about that.’
‘There might be lots of reasons why he doesn’t want to talk to journalists,’ objected Gib, still balanced precariously on his chair.
‘Yes, maybe he had a terrible accident that left him scarred for life,’ Kate put in. ‘His wife died in the same accident, and their only child, and probably their dog as well.’
‘Oh, no, not the dog as well!’ said Gib, much struck by the story unfolding.
Kate nodded firmly. ‘Yes, a little terrier. Called Ruffy,’ she added as an afterthought. ‘And you see that’s why he’s never been able to forgive himself. He’s shut himself away from the world ever since then, unable to face anyone.’
There was a moment’s silence, interrupted by Phoebe bringing the coffee back to the table.
‘Kate has a very rich fantasy life,’ she explained kindly to Gib. ‘You’ll get used to it.’
‘Well, she convinced me,’ he said. ‘I think you should leave the poor guy alone and stop hassling him for an interview!’
‘I wish I could,’ sighed Phoebe. ‘I’m sure that in reality he’s really dull and avoiding interviews is just a way to try and make himself interesting. I think I’ll tell Celia that I’m following leads, and hope that eventually she’ll forget him.’
She held up the cafetière. ‘Who’s for coffee?’
‘Any messages?’ Kate asked hopefully, dropping her bag onto the table. It was over a week since their welcoming dinner for Gib, and she had come home to find Phoebe and Bella draped over the armchairs and nursing a glass of wine each as they grumbled about their respective bosses.
‘No,’ said Phoebe. ‘And before you ask, yes, the phone is working! No post has been discovered under the doormat, there have been no emails or telegrams or bunches of flowers that accidentally got delivered to the wrong address six weeks ago. You’ve got to face it, Kate,’ she said more gently. ‘Seb’s not going to ring.’
‘But why is he being like this?’ wailed Kate.
‘Because he’s vile,’ said Bella firmly. ‘Phoebe’s right. Seb is never going to love anyone but himself. It suited him to string you along for a while, but he’s obviously found someone new to exploit.’
Kate slumped into the sofa with a sigh. ‘You don’t think he was knocked over by a bus and lost his memory?’
‘No.’
‘Or had to go to his grandmother’s funeral on a deserted island where all the phone lines are down and they’re cut off because of storms?’
‘What, for six weeks?’
‘Well, maybe he’s part of some top secret government programme where he’s not allowed to contact anyone and—’
‘No, Kate.’
She sighed again. ‘I know, I know, it’s probably not that. You’re right, he’s not going to call.’
Her eye fell on the cordless phone that was lying half buried under a pile of papers at the end of the sofa, and Phoebe and Bella both jerked upright as she reached for it.
‘Kate, you are not going to ring him!’
‘I’m just checking to see if anyone else called,’ she said with dignity, pressing 1471. She listened to the number on the recorded message and her mouth drooped. ‘No, it wasn’t Seb. Some Bristol number I think.’
Phoebe dropped her head back with a groan. ‘That’ll be my mother. She wants to talk to me about Ben’s wedding.’
‘You’re not really going to go to that, are you?’ asked Bella curiously.
‘I’ve got to,’ she said. ‘Ben’s family and mine are so close, it would be like his sister not being at his wedding.’
‘Still, they can’t expect you to celebrate your fiancé marrying somebody else,’ said Kate.
‘They don’t know it wasn’t a mutual decision to break up,’ Phoebe confessed. ‘They were all so happy when Ben and I got engaged, I just couldn’t bear to tell them. I love Penelope and Derek. Ben’s parents are closer than any of my own aunts and uncles. They would have been devastated if I hadn’t pretended that Ben and I had both agreed that it wasn’t going to work.’
‘They must have had a clue when he told them he was going to marry Lisa, surely?’
‘He didn’t tell them immediately. They might have suspected something, but I think they’d prefer to believe that I’m quite happy with the situation, so if I don’t turn up they’ll realise immediately that’s not exactly the case.’
Phoebe ran her fingers through her hair in a hopeless gesture. ‘Then they’d be upset, and it would spoil the wedding for them, and I can’t do that to them. As it is, Penelope