Page 151 of Love ad Lib
‘Are you in immediate physical danger?’
‘No,’ she gulped.
‘Has anyone died?’
‘No, it’s, it’s worse than that.’
‘Okay, take a big breath, in and out. Come on, Libby, you’ve got this. Tell Auntie Claire what the fuck is going on.’
In between heaving sobs she told Claire what Lucas had said. She expected her best friend’s response to be volcanic, but it was the opposite.
‘Libby, you need to contact the police.’
‘What? Why?’
‘He’s blackmailing you. I think he’s been inhaling too many paint fumes. That or he’s started eating it from the tubes. The man’s lost his fucking mind and you cannot do what he says.’
‘But if he sent a picture like that to Henry—’
‘And you need to tell him as well.’
‘Tell who?’
‘Henry. He needs to know.’
‘No, Claire. I can’t. No way.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because compared to him, I’m a total fuck-up at life. If I told him about Lucas, I’d have to tell himeverythingabout Lucas. Henry’s got his shit together. He’s got a good job, he owns a flat in Canary Wharf for chrissakes and he’s a fucking Lord! I’m just plain old Libby Fletcher. I’ve given away what little money I had to an arsehole, and I can’t even find work on my own. Why the hell he’s still with me, god only knows.’
‘He loves you.’
‘Yeah right. The moment he goes back to work and his normal life, the scales will fall from his eyes and he’ll see me for who I really am. It’ll be just like Giles all over again.’
‘Bullshit!’ Claire shouted. ‘Giles was a tosser. Henry loves you, and rightly so. You’re fucking amazing.’
‘I don’t feel particularly amazing right now.’
‘I know, love, but we’ll get you through this, I promise. Message Lucas and say you need to meet up in a couple of days to work out the best plan. Then you’re going to record him and take it to the police. Okay?’
‘That sounds risky.’
‘It’s either that or tell the police now.’
‘But I have to work out what to say, or won’t it be seen as entrapment?’
‘Don’t worry about it. In between throwing up, I’ll do the research.’
‘Oh my god, are you still sick?’
‘Yeah, it sucks but it’s usually only once a day, so when it’s done, I feel better.’
‘Have you been to the doctor?’
‘Nah, waiting lists are two weeks plus. I’ll ring them if it doesn’t go by the weekend and make an appointment.’
Libby drewon all her reserves to make it through the evening’s performance. Brandon didn’t pry, instead channelling his energy into the ukulele, playing it as if he was rocking out at Madison Square Garden. She felt a stab of guilt that she wasn’t more grateful for him. After the show she thanked him profusely then checked her phone.
