‘Bloody Consuela just came into the study, yapping on about having trouble with the smart lock and saying I need to test it straight away because she wants to go shopping but there’s no way she’s going out if she can’t get back in. I mean, what am I, a security guard now? But you know what she’s like, all histrionic and Hispanic, so I agreed. There’s definitely something up with it though, because it’s not letting me back in. Every time I try it just beeps and a message appears on my phone screen saying access revoked.’
‘Hm,’ Gabriel replies. ‘That does seem odd. Let me check for you.’ He lets a few seconds pass before speaking again. ‘No, that looks right. Your access has been revoked, so it’s doing what it should.’
‘Look.’ Harvey sounds really cross now. ‘I don’t have time for games. I’ve got a lot of work to do. Just reset it, let me in and get back here, all right?’
‘No,’ Gabriel says firmly.
‘What?’
‘I’m not letting you back in until we’ve had a little chat. Like I said, I’m in town at the moment, in a meeting. Some interesting things have come to light that I need to ask you about.’
‘For fuck’s sake.’ Harvey is almost shouting now. ‘If you want to play twenty questions, we can do that when you’ve finished whatever the bloody hell it is you’re doing in town. In the meantime?—’
‘Do you remember Tori?’ Gabriel asks, cutting him off mid-flow.
‘Who?’
‘Tori, the woman who came with me to meet you at the airport in Jamaica.’
‘Vaguely. She’s the one you made all that song and dance about, isn’t she. Total waste of time that was, given that she buggered off at the first opportunity. What’s she got to do with anything?’
‘She buggered off?’ Gabriel repeats.
‘Yeah. I went to all that effort like you asked me to, and she just threw it back in your face, didn’t she. Couldn’t even be arsed to come to the after-show party and say thank you. To be honest, I wasn’t surprised. She was obviously just out for what she could get. You’re well shot of her.’
My mouth drops open in outrage, but Gabriel holds up his hand to stop me from speaking.
‘I was surprised,’ he says as if the idea had just come to him, ‘that she didn’t come to the party. You don’t think someone warned her off, did they?’
‘I have no idea,’ Harvey replies, a note of uncertainty coming into his voice for the first time. ‘My job is to manage your professional life, not worry about the motivation of some hanger-on.’
‘So you didn’t send her a letter, pretending to be me?’
‘Of course not!’ Harvey is sounding distinctly wary now.
‘Interesting,’ Gabriel replies smoothly. ‘See, I’ve learned that Tori received a letter from me, basically giving her the brush-off. Now, I know I didn’t write it, and I’m fairly certain she’s not making it up, so where on earth do you think it could have come from?’
There’s a pregnant pause.
‘When you say you’ve learned that Tori received a letter,’ Harvey begins carefully.
‘Oh, yes,’ Gabriel replies. ‘I should have mentioned that. Sorry, I forgot. Maybe I need to see Mr Harrison after all. She’s sitting with me. Say hello, Tori.’
‘Hello, Harvey,’ I say to the handset.
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ Harvey thunders, obviously trying to wrest back control of the narrative. ‘Is that what this is all about? Fine. Yes. I wrote the letter. I could see she was a bad influence on you, so I did what any responsible manager would do and got rid of her. I was doing you a favour. Are we done now? Can I get back to work?’
‘A bad influence?’ I interject before Gabriel can speak. ‘How on earth could you know what kind of influence I was? You barely spoke three words to me.’
‘I didn’t need to know you to see the effect you were having,’ Harvey replies, sounding more confident again. ‘You were distracting Gabriel.’
‘How?’
‘All that banging on about limos, champagne and fucking strawberries when he should have been concentrating on the rehearsals for starters,’ Harvey says furiously. ‘But thepièce de resistance, the point at which I knew absolutely that you had to be taken out of the picture, was the encore. What the hell even was that? Gabriel is a world-class pianist, but one flutter of your eyelashes and he’s playing Lady fucking Gaga? What’s next,finishing each concert with a Beatles singalong medley? I’m sure you’re a lovely person and everything, Torah?—’
‘Tori,’ I correct him.
‘Whatever. My point is that Gabriel didn’t get to be where he was by letting himself be distracted by air-headed women, however pretty. You’ve had your fun, and you’ll have a lovely story to tell your grandchildren one day about how you met this famous concert pianist once. But, in order for you to have that story to tell, I need to make sure Gabriel remains a famous concert pianist, and I won’t be able to do that if he’s dumbing himself down to playing God knows what.’
