‘I got to know him quite well, actually. He used to come round to the house a lot, especially after Mum died.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
The atmosphere between them has shifted, and Reubyn immediately regrets mentioning his mother. ‘It’s okay. I was pretty young when it happened – I’ve had a long time to come to terms with it.’
Her face is crumpled in sympathy. Reubyn wants it to beam back to life, so he turns the conversation back to Meadows. ‘Tony was exactly like he was on TV – a mile a minute, never stopped talking. He and Dad were really close, and he even babysat for me, sometimes, when he needed a break.’
‘Tony Meadows was yourbabysitter? That’s insane. You guys come from a different planet, I swear.’
Reubyn shifts his chair a little closer. The music seems to be getting incrementally louder as the bar fills up, and now they can barely hear each other over the booming bass and thrum of voices. ‘It was a strange time, that’s for sure,’ Reubyn says. ‘I did work experience onDealbreaker, as a runner – stuff like that. But it became clear pretty quickly that there wasn’t going to be a career path for me.’
‘Why?’ Faith asks, glancing at him briefly before turning her head so Reubyn can speak directly into her ear.
‘That whole industry has changed. About ten years ago, Dad’s work all started drying up. And if there was any work, he had to travel to Belfast or Scotland or something, for weeks at a time. It’s got to the point now where he’s in the middle of his career and he’s barely working. It’s stressful. He’s got no income. I’m not signing up for that.’
‘But, why? I mean, why is there suddenly no work? He was the producer onDealbreaker– surely he’s in demand?’
‘It’s because these TV shows just aren’t getting made anymore.’ Seeing her lips pressed in confusion, he explains: ‘Some programmes are getting made, of course, the really high-budget shows, stuff for the big apps, but all those light-entertainment shows that used to be on TV all the time, likeDealbreaker– the demand for all that has fallen away. Think about it: everyone is on the streamers, listening to podcasts, watching social media shorts—’
‘Watching YouTube.’
‘Exactly. When I told Dad I wanted to start a YouTube channel, he encouraged me, because he could see what was happening. He helped me get started, sorted me out with the lighting and microphones and background set-up. I’ve got him to thank, really.’
‘You’re too modest. You’re good at it. I watched another of your videos this morning. They’re great. You’re amazing.’
Faith stands, and as she leaves the table, she places her fingers on Reubyn’s forearm and a bolt of electricity shoots through him. She smiles and then swishes off towards the bar.
Reubyn takes deep breaths.You’re amazing. What did she mean by that? Is she amazed by his videos, or could it simply be that she finds him, Reubyn Carmichael,amazing?
Don’t get carried away, he tells himself. She’s being friendly because she wants to get started in the business and needs Reubyn’s advice – that is still the most plausible explanation for what’s going on here. But he’s helpless as his heart and mind are carried off on a wave of hope. He watches as she disappears into a queue at the bar, then glances around. The volume of the music has split the table: Polly and Jessie are huddled in conversation, and Elis is barking something in Miles’s ear.
Reubyn’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He unlocks the screen and finds a new message in their WhatsApp group.
George: I think I’ve got him.
Miles must be reading it too because his eyes widen and then he slips his phone back into his pocket, all casual. A few seconds later, he takes the phone out and taps with his thumb. A new message appears.
Miles: OK. What now?
George is typing . . .
George: We wait. Act normally.
George is typing . . .
George: When I say now, Miles you come and meet me by the bar. Straight away, no delays. Understood?
Miles: Got it.
Miles’s lips twitch as he stares into his drink. It’s clearly taking a lot of effort to prevent himself from becoming visibly alert and searching the room. If he’s nervous, it’s understandable. Reubyn didn’t expect George’s surveillance to actually lead anywhere, and he suspects Miles was doubtful, too. So, what’s going to happen now? Whoever this stalker is, he could be dangerous. Armed, even. Will they follow him? Front him up? The only thing Reubyn knows for sure is: he’s not getting involved. If it was up to him, they would lie low until the police have time to investigate. But he knows they won’t wait. George is reckless and impatient, and Miles’s desire to know who’s following him has become all-consuming.
Faith is oblivious to the tension as she arrives with a tray of drinks. She hands them out and resumes her chat with Reubyn. As their talk continues, Reubyn keeps an eye on Miles. He’s no longer talking to Elis; instead, he stares at the phone in his hand, no doubt waiting for George to say the word.
Reubyn and Faith chat about all manner of things that his friends would normally find too boring to discuss: posting schedules, lighting equipment, SEO, editing, analytics.
More drinks arrive at their table. And then more. For a short while, Reubyn is so wrapped up in his conversation that he forgets about George and his plan.
And then, just after midnight, it finally happens – Reubyn feels his phone vibrate. Miles is already up on his feet before Reubyn has time to open the app and see George’s message. As promised, he’s only written one word:Now.
