Three's a Crowd by Simon Booker

Author:Simon Booker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster UK
Published: 2021-08-24T00:00:00+00:00

RICHARD

Harriet did a great job on that first show. (The Evening Standard would later call her debut ‘brilliant, a promising start to a glittering new career’.) No gaffes, no slips of the tongue, no awkward moments. Jennifer was beaming as we came off-air at nine o’clock, high-fiving the two of us on her way into a budgets meeting. Pam was pleased too, in her own low-key way, telling us we’d made ‘a good start’.

Sitting opposite Harriet in one of Soho’s few remaining greasy spoons (her choice not mine) I was glad I’d waited until we were alone before giving her her ‘congratulations’ gift. Her eyes widened as I pushed the distinctive turquoise box across the table and placed a muffin on top.

‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s,’ I said.

Smiling, she untied the white ribbon and removed the lid from the box. Then she parted the tissue paper and gasped as she saw the silver bracelet nestling inside.

‘Wow…’

She picked it up and examined the inscription I’d had engraved. Nothing romantic (or, God forbid, suggestive), just today’s date. Her first broadcast.

‘I hope today is one you’ll remember as a red letter day,’ I said.

Okay, I sounded pompous but I had a sense that we were making memories. Finding the right words wasn’t easy.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she said. Her face darkened. ‘But I can’t accept it. It’s too much. Besides, I haven’t got anything for you.’

I waved her protest away.

‘It’s your big day, not mine.’

She chewed on her lip, a tic I was finding increasingly charming, along with her way of looping strands of hair behind her pink, perfect ear.

‘Can I at least pay for breakfast?’ she said.

‘It’s a deal.’

She slipped the bracelet onto her wrist.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘For everything.’

I reached into my pocket and drew out an envelope addressed to Harriet.

‘I meant to give you this earlier,’ I lied. ‘It’s from Tom. I recognize his handwriting.’ That part, at least, was true.

She opened the envelope. Inside was a Hallmark card. I took a sip of coffee and looked away as she read it. I knew precisely what my son had written because I’d steamed open the envelope the day before. (I know I should have felt ashamed but I didn’t – merely a frisson of triumph.) I did my best to strike a casual tone.

‘What does he say?’

‘ “Break a leg. I’ll be listening.” ’ She sighed. ‘Sweet.’

It seemed clear she was underwhelmed, which I found reassuring. I’d been right to give her the bracelet before handing over Tom’s card. The contrast between myself and the lad spoke for itself.

Our food arrived but we didn’t eat much. To tell you the truth, ever since Harriet Brown breezed into my life I seemed to have little appetite. Meanwhile, she was still on a post-show high, dissecting our debut in detail. Like any actress, she was eager to know what I thought of her performance. Had she been professional? Did she sound warm enough? Should she talk more slowly? Did our banter strike the right balance? Was her laugh infectious or annoying? I reassured her on all counts.

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