Page 43 of Famous Last

Chapter Twelve

Late Thursday night, as the southbound Tube train pulled out of Colliers Wood station, Spencer was one of the few remaining passengers in the carriage. In the pocket of his duffle coat, his phone vibrated with a call. He pulled out the device and stared at the display.

Marshall.

With a snort, he thumbed the green accept button.

“Hey, you,” came the soft baritone voice before Spencer could speak. “It’s me.”

Spencer felt his grin stretch across his face. He had grown to enjoy Marshall’s voice and his gently teasing tone.

“Hello, me. How are things?”

Down the phone, Marshall breathed out a deep sigh.

“Oh, dear,” said Spencer, his smile slipping. “That bad?”

“Actually, no. Things are going unexpectedly well. I’ve just been horribly busy this week. Sorry I haven’t been able to phone since Tuesday, but Darcy’s had me running in circles all over town.”

“I know. Your televised statement to the press yesterday was brilliant, by the way. I’ve watched it about twenty times on YouTube. And there are some wonderfully supportive comments on Twitter, in case you haven’t seen them yet. A couple of trolls, too, but nobody pays them any heed.”

“Thanks for saying that, Spence. It means a lot. I’ve had thousands of messages from people—family, friends, colleagues, and people I don’t even know, offering words of support. We’vealso got a full-page story coming out at the end of this week in theSunday Chronicleby Damien Littlejohn. Does your mother read theChronicle?”

“She does now. I’ll make sure my brother buys a copy.”

“Are you on a train?”

“Congratulations. You have not lost any of your powers of perception.”

“Bit late for a school night, isn’t it? Where are you heading?”

“Home.”

“At ten-thirty? Don’t tell me you’re just getting back from work?”

“I’m doing two jobs now, Marshall, and have a ton of extra responsibilities. I need to put in the hours. And I can’t take work home with me, partly because of the lack of connectivity in the flat, but also in part due to the attention demands of a feline demon who is giving me a hard time since her new best friend abandoned her.”

Spencer had texted Marshall Tuesday lunchtime after he’d met with Muriel and he had phoned back almost immediately. They’d spoken for around an hour, initially about Spencer’s new position and Muriel deciding whether to go ahead with the interview. After that, Spencer had asked Marshall how he was coping and his strategy for dealing with the press. Even before the call ended, Spencer had decided to try the job out, to make his mark until Muriel decided who to appoint as Clarissa’s replacement. Marshall had essentially agreed with the idea as a stopgap until something better turned up.

“Tell the little princess that when things settle down this end, I promise to come over with some TLC.”

“Tender loving care?”

“Tasty little chewbits. They’re these cat treats I saw at the supermarket.”

“Funny man.”

“Hey, the reason for calling is to see if you’re still free tomorrow night?”

Spencer’s heart gave a tug of delight. He’d been hoping Marshall would ask him but hadn’t wanted to presume anything, especially with everything going on.

“Hold the line, caller. I need to check my insanely busy social calendar,” said Spencer, before pulling the phone away from his ear and, under his breath, counting to five. “Yes, I’m still free. I kept the evening blocked out in the hope you might be off the hook.”

“I am, and I’d like to see you. I’ll send you the address for a private bar around the back of Liverpool Street where we can meet. You’ll need to quote my membership number, so I’ll send that by text along with the address. Can you be there for six-thirty?”

“I can. I was going to work late again, but I’m sure a night off is in order.”

“Good. And would it be presumptuous if I asked you to bring an overnight bag?”

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