“But we need to talk about your mother!” Aunt Cam said as Fred hurriedly pulled on her coat and boots.
“I’m going to find her! I’m going to find Mum and make it right. Then I’m going to find Ryan and make that right. And then just basically apologize to anyone I see, until I’ve made everything all right!” she called, shutting the door behind her and ending the conversation. She rang her mum as she fumbled with her car keys, but it went straight to voicemail.
Once inside the car, she called Warren while she waited for the windows to demist. She put her phone on loudspeaker, and after a few rings Warren’s smug voice bounced around the interior of her small car.
“Fredricka,” he said.
For a moment she was so angry she couldn’t speak.
“Fredricka? You saw the article.” There wasn’t a hint of remorse in his voice.
“That wasn’t an article, Warren, it was an annihilation of livelihoods.”
“Don’t overreact.”
“Did you think for one second about what your lies would do to those people? How could you write those things?”
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? They were collateral damage. You knew I was going after Tenbury’s column, and thanks to this piece I’ve sealed the deal. It was nothing personal.”
“Nothing personal?” She winced at the screech in her own voice. “It seemed pretty personal to Mrs. Doukas when she was sobbing down the phone. I expect it felt personal to the Campbell family, too, and every other business you screwed over in that overwritten diatribe you put your name to.”
“Overwritten?”
“Is that all you took from what I just said? You could’ve ruined their businesses!”
“Relax! You’ve worked in advertising; you know that no publicity is bad publicity.” He sounded less sure of himself, but followed up with a belligerent, “I’ve put them on the map!”
“You think your article is going to have people rushing to book tables at these restaurants? Who in their right mind is going to book somewhere that’s gone viral for serving bad food?”
“Plenty of people; people are perverse, they love to hate. I bet they’ll be inundated with bookings. It’s the Gordon RamsayKitchen Nightmareseffect, isn’t it? People love a car crash.”
“Oh my god, you are such a wanker!”
“You told me I needed a hook to get people interested. This is my hook.”
“You are vile.” She was shaking with rage.
“That’s a bit strong.”
“And what about the things you said about Coast Roast? Thatwaspersonal.”
There was a pause before he said, “Yeah, you got me on that one.”
Fred wanted to stick her fingers down the phone and poke him in both eyes.
“Listen, we both got what we wanted. I assume you did get with Ryan?”
“Oh, shut the fuck up, Warren!”
She cut him off to stop him having the last word, because she knew it would rankle him, then she hit the horn to drown out the sound of her screaming. Her phone lit up with a call from him, his picture grinning out at her. “I can’t believe I kissed you!” she shouted at it, while it continued to ring.Note to self: buy tongue scraper!Then she blocked his number.
She tried her mum again and then Ryan. Nothing and nothing.
All the car parks in town were full because of the market. In desperation she pulled into the loading bay behind Frost Hardware, hoping that there was still enough goodwill between them that Martha or Diggory wouldn’t have her car towed. Although, after what Warren had written about Coast Roast, she was likely as popular as food poisoning with the Frosts.
24
The cold was like needlespricking her skin as she weaved past shoppers enjoying the festive atmosphere, but the chill was a welcome diversion from the dread swirling in her stomach. She headed straight for the Hallow-Hart hut but it was locked up, and when she peered through a gap in the wood there was no sign of her mum inside. The unresolved words between them were a thicket of brambles growing in her chest, knotted and thorny. She hurried on down the high street to Liam’s hut but that, too, was padlocked shut.Mum, where are you?
