‘Oh, leave her alone,’ said Jenna. ‘She’s entitled to a private life, you know.’
Jason concentrated on his tea.
‘Yeah,’ he said after swallowing a big mouthful. ‘Maybe I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have real privacy. I had to shout at some daft beggar who was trying to take a picture of me gardening. Clinging on to the top of the wall, he was, camera at the ready. He fell off when I saw him.’
Jenna leant her head on his shoulder, then thought better of it when her cheek came into close quarters with her lover’s grimy T-shirt.
‘They’ll tire of us eventually,’ she said, but she didn’t sound convinced. ‘If only Deano would bugger off, it might happen sooner.’
‘Maybe,’ said Kayley tentatively, and Jenna gave her a sharp stare, intrigued by her tone. ‘Maybe if you went along with him about the documentary … then he’d have to move on once it was done. I mean, all this stalling is just making him dig his heels in. If you just said yes, I’ll do a couple of quick interviews or sound-bites or whatever, then he’d have nothing to pester you about.’
‘Oh yes?’ said Jenna. ‘And where exactly have you gleaned this in-depth knowledge of Mr Diamond’s personality and motivations?’
Kayley looked back down into her cup. ‘Nowhere,’ she mumbled. ‘It’s just a thought. Bit of, like, psychology, or whatever.’
‘Maybe she’s got a point,’ said Jason. ‘And you wouldn’t have to see him, necessarily. Do your bits of the film, then leave him to it.’
Jenna gave each of them a hard stare.
‘Has he been paying you?’ she said, then she laughed. ‘God. Listen to me. Paranoia central. OK, maybe you do have a point. Let me think about it. Once I’ve been to Nottingham and looked into this Harville thing.’
They finished their tea, chatting generally about the weather forecast, the plans for the gala and the satanic alliance of Lawrence Harville and Deano Diamond, until there was a ring at the doorbell.
‘It’ll be some journalist,’ said Jenna. ‘Leave it. I’m not expecting anyone.’
But a flurry of noisy activity from outside drew her to the window to peek at the visitor.
‘What?’
Her strangulated cry of outrage brought Jason and Kayley over to join her.
Deano Diamond stood on the doorstep, suave in a tight long-sleeved black T-shirt and skinny jeans in a Prince of Wales check.
‘Oh God,’ moaned Kayley, when he caught sight of them and gave Kayley a beaming smile and big wave.
When he beckoned her to the door, she left Jenna’s silent outrage behind her and went to speak to him.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ she hissed through gritted teeth, opening the front door a crack.
‘You put the phone down on me!’ he cried. ‘What did you think I was going to do? We weren’t finished.’
By this time, Jenna and Jason were hovering behind her.
‘What does he mean?’ demanded Jenna. ‘What do you mean?’ She referred the same question to Deano.
‘Kayley here invited me for a cup of tea,’ he said with a sharky smile. ‘But she got cut off. So I thought I’d come over anyway and make sure she was OK. You are OK, aren’t you, Kayley?’
‘Fine,’ she muttered, wanting to get behind one of the new big urns on either side of the door and hide there until the storm was past. ‘But I didn’t invite you.’
‘Did I misunderstand?’ he asked. ‘Oh dear, I’m really sorry about that. But I’ve come all this way, and …’ He turned to indicate the pack of press photographers, hanging on every second of this exchange. ‘If you don’t want another front page …’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ fumed Jenna. ‘Come in then. But you’re not staying.’
Deano smiled more widely still as Kayley opened the door enough for his slender frame to ease through into the hall.
‘Nice outfit,’ he said glibly, eyeing Jason’s dirty jeans and T-shirt combo. ‘Wouldn’t have recognised you from the other night.’
‘What do you want?’ said Jason, with barely suppressed menace.