Page 33 of The Player

“Oh, erm.” I think of the order and the money for the business. “Yes, of course,” I say briskly. “We’dloveto.” Con makes a sound that suggests he’s not falling in line with this, so I add quickly, “Maybe we can discuss your order during it?”

“Lovely,” Jimmy says cheerfully. “Come on in.”

We follow his halting progress into a foyer with a black-and-white tiled floor. The ceiling rises high above us, lit by a huge chandelier. Doors are open off the foyer, and as we follow our host, I glimpse a big lounge, a music room filled with instruments, including a grand piano and with walls lined with gold discs, and a games room.

Con pulls me back. “How the fuck do you know him?” he whispers.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t mind admitting I’m completely mystified.”

“This way,” Jimmy calls back, and we hasten to catch up as he shows us into a library. It’s lined on three walls with floor-to-ceiling bookcases. Bi-folding doors offer a view of an immaculate lawn that stretches down to the river.

“Lucy would be thrilled with this garden,” I whisper.

Jimmy settles onto a large sofa that’s shaped like a pair of lips and gestures Con and me to a couple of carved iron chairs that look like they were last pressed into service during the Spanish Inquisition. I lower myself gingerly into one andwatch as Con settles his much taller frame onto the other. It creaks loudly, and we share alarmed looks. Business deals can falter when you break the customer’s furniture. I hold my breath as Con sits back safely and then snort as he shoots me a beleaguered glance.

I turn it into a cough and turn back to Jimmy. “What a lovely room. So many books.”

“Oh, they’re going,” he says carelessly. “I can’t stand them. I only moved in a few weeks ago. The builders are due to start work next week. I’m putting in a retro arcade where the bookcases are, and the other wall will be knocked out so I can put in a bowling lane that’ll run into the old dining room.”

“Lovely,” I say faintly. “Well, you never know when you’re going to be struck with the need to bowl. And who needs to sit down and eat anyway?”

Con coughs as if he’s got something stuck in his throat, and I shoot a glare at him. Luckily, Jimmy seems to be made of sunshine and rainbows because he laughs.

“You’re just as I remember you, Frankie.”

I blink. “And we’ve met, have we?” I say tentatively, aware of Con leaning forwards and listening intently.

“I don’t expect you’d remember,” Jimmy says. “I was with my first band. We were called Tension. We were all only sixteen and at an industry party for the first time. It was at Bob Mitchell’s house. Do you remember him?”

I exchange a confused look with Con and turn back to Jimmy.

“Yes, of course, I remember him. He was Con’s band manager for a while before he went to work for the record company. He ended up running the UK division.”

He was also a wanker, but I’m not mentioning that. I shoot Con a quelling look, and he rolls his eyes.

“So, you were at the party too,” I say wonderingly. “It’s a small world.”

“Yes. You probably don’t recognise me because I had long dark hair then and fewer tattoos.”

I stare at him, and a faint memory stirs. “Idoremember you.” I turn to Con. “Con, it was Bob’s summer party. Do you remember?”

He nods, and Jimmy leans forward. “You were very kind to us all at the party, Frankie.”

“I was? That doesn’t sound like me.”

“It sounds exactly like you,” Con says firmly.

Jimmy shrugs. “You talked to us normally. We were all wearing the same clothes. Our manager insisted on it because who doesn’t want a load of young men who appear to bulk buy at H&M.” I laugh, and he smiles. “When someone was rude about it, you told him to fuck off and that it hadn’t done the Von Trapp family any harm.” He furrows his brow. “I always meant to ask. Were they a group in your day?”

“Myday?” I say blankly, and Con can’t help his laughter this time.

Jimmy nods. “Well, you must be in your late thirties now.”

“I’m twenty-eight,” I say, outraged. “I’m hardly ready for my pension.”

He pats my arm. “I like an older man,” he says with an enthusiastic leer.

“Which is fine if you’re talking about Tom Selleck but not me.”

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