He became aware that his head was aching, perhaps in protest against having too much to think about. Preoccupied, not looking where he was going, he almost collided with a woman heading in the opposite direction.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Oh — it’s you.’
Since her tearful departure from the Blue Moon, Sophie had conquered the shock of the bomb blast and her skilfully made-up face had regained its customary composure. He detected no trace of pleasure to see him. In her mind he had obviously become a lost cause: a friend of Finbar Rogan.
‘The police insisted on talking to me,’ she said, as if it were Harry’s fault.
‘Inevitable, Sophie. Nothing more than a routine check.’
She wagged a long finger at him. Whilst she would not admit it, he guessed she was glad of the opportunity to vent her anger about her disastrous afternoon affair.
‘I never dreamed when I agreed to go with Finbar bloody Rogan how things would finish up.’
‘Surely with Finbar you didn’t expect to live happily ever after?’
‘I expect you think I deserved what I got, missing death by a whisker and having to suffer the third degree, do you? But remember, he’s your client and you’ve always known he’s bad news. I just thought he was a good-looking feller with a gift of the gab — not that he was some kind of terrorist.’
‘Come on now, Sophie. Finbar has many faults, but he’s not mixed up with terrorism. You must realise that.’
She uttered a sharp bark of laughter. ‘Oh yes? Do you have many clients who have their businesses burned down and their cars bombed? Wake up, Harry. The man’s made serious enemies, and you can add me to the list. It’s taken me years to get where I am now with Radio Liverpool. And if Nick sacks me because he finds out I was screwing a tattooist when I should have been at work, Finbar will be safer with the I.R. bloody A. than with me. I’ll murder him myself.’
‘Folley is bound to find out sooner or later. People are already talking about you and Finbar.’
‘Shit! I only told Penny, and that was in confidence when I got back to the station. I was only looking for a shoulder to cry on — just goes to show you can’t trust anyone these days.’
‘If you’ll take my advice, you’ll tell Folley fast, before someone else does. Limit the damage.’
She stared at him. ‘Take your advice? You must be joking. Save your words of wisdom for Finbar. He’ll certainly need something if he’s planning to stay alive.’ And with a vigorous shake of her red mane, she stalked off. Looking back, Harry saw her pause when she reached the radio station’s stand and slip her arm in that of someone whose back was turned to him.
‘Was that the lovely Sophie I saw you chatting up?’
Harry spun round. ‘Finbar! I want a word with you. Did you realise Sophie’s gunning for you now, like everyone else? I was trying to persuade her to confess to Folley about her fling with you, before Penny Newland lets the cat well and truly out of the bag.’
‘Penny?’ Finbar frowned. ‘What does she know?’
‘Sophie told her she was with you at the Blue Moon.’
Finbar swore. ‘She’s a darling girl, is Penny, but she ought to know the value of discretion. Don’t fret, I’ll have a word with her. Make sure she buttons her mouth.’
‘You’ll be lucky. She only has eyes for Baz and I don’t think she’s susceptible to anyone else’s silver tongue. In any case, you can’t hope to contain gossip so easily. Let me see if I have more luck getting you to listen to me than Sophie. Are you listening? Tell Melissa about the Blue Moon right now. Explain it was a one-off. Promise it won’t happen again — especially if you mean it.’
‘Ah, Harry,’ said Finbar with a sigh, ‘you really think everyone is as straight as you. But women aren’t like that. They like their truth in soft focus. It’s the romantic glow they go for, not the hard details.’
‘You underestimate Melissa. I’m sure she’s a realist.’
‘Oh, sweet Jases, you really believe that, don’t you? Harry, you could hardly be more wrong. Mel’s a lovely girl, I care for her deeply, but compared to her Walter Mitty had his feet on the ground. She’s had treatment, don’t you know, for the troubles she’s been through?’
‘Treatment?’
‘Wipe off your worried frown, it’s bad for business, specially in the midst of all these well-heeled folk, they’re potential clients. Yeah, the poor girl — suffers with her nerves, let’s say. She had a spell in hospital and she’s been on drugs and stuff. Now do you understand why she takes a fancy to me? You always reckoned a woman must need her head examined to swallow my chat — well, for once you were right.’ He gave a bleak smile. ‘Folley ditched her soon enough. I didn’t steal her from him, he was more than ready and willing to step aside. You could say I’m a sort of social service. Y’know, I think there’s something about the neurotic types that appeals to me. Maybe it’s because they’re so anxious to be good in the sack.’
Harry grimaced. Finbar’s candour was repellent, though he was sublimely unaware of the fact. He genuinely believed himself to be misunderstood, a kind of sensual do-gooder who didn’t get the appreciation he deserved.
‘So you see, mate, there’s naught to be gained by telling the lady what she doesn’t want to hear. Too much honesty is bad for the soul. Come on, why don’t you come over and say hello?’
He walked off towards the Radio Liverpool stand. Harry hesitated for a moment, then chased after him.
‘Listen, you bugger, I need to talk to you about the bomb. I’ve heard about Eileen…’
Finbar kept going but a shadow passed across his face. ‘For Heaven’s sake, this isn’t the time or the place,’ he said under his breath. ‘I told you I don’t want to talk about Eileen. Leave it alone, can’t you?’
They could both see Melissa now. She had turned up at the stand and was on the edge of the group of people standing around it, talking idly to Tracey Liggett and the engineer.
Raising his voice as he approached, Finbar called out, ‘Melissa, look who we’ve got here! Our very own legal eagle! A professional bird of prey, come to pay us a visit!’
Melissa moved towards them. ‘You bastard, Finbar,’ she said in a soft but distinct murmur. ‘You fucking bastard.’
Two businessmen close by heard what she said. One of them, to judge by his breath and bloodshot eyes, had spent all evening at the bar, and he whistled derisively at Finbar. ‘Upset the little lady have you, pal?’ he whooped. ‘Oh, dearie me!’
Heads began to turn. Harry looked round in despair for the exit.
Finbar ignored the drunk. ‘Don’t listen to tittle-tattle, darling,’ he said to Melissa. ‘Let’s have a talk about things, just you and — ’
‘Talk!’ she hissed. ‘You do nothing but! Except when you’re carrying on with that bloody red-haired prostitute…’
‘Who are you calling a prostitute?’
Sophie’s voice came loud and clear. The drunk seemed to appreciate her intervention; he uttered a long, ‘Oooooooh!’ before stumbling over his own feet and having to clutch at his embarrassed companion for support.
Suddenly, Harry became aware of someone elbowing past him.
‘Stop it! Both of you! Or you’re both finished!’
Nick Folley’s face was crimson with fury. Harry could tell he was about to let his temper rip.
‘Oh shit!’ said Sophie.
Melissa spat at her, but Folley prevented retaliation by grabbing hold of Sophie’s arm and thrusting her to one side.
‘That’s enough, Melissa. You’re fired. Instant dismissal for gross misconduct, do you hear me? Now sod off home. Your P45 and the money we owe you will come through the post.’
The words hit her with more force than a slap in the face. She blanched and clutched at Folley’s sleeve.
‘Nick! You can’t mean that! You know how much I need…’
Folley pushed her arm away. ‘You should have thought about that before making a scene.’
‘Now wait a minute,’ said Finbar. He sounded moderate: the voice of reason, keeping a cool head when all around were losing theirs. But as the words passed his lips, Harry glanced at Folley and realised his client’s timing could not have been worse.