In The Frame Page 2

  I tried to protest, but she was insistent.

  “There’s one thing you could do for me, though, if you don’t mind,” she said, as the car approached. “I hate to ask, but I can’t see me getting in tomorrow.”

  “Anything you need, it’s yours.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment, and leaned against the wall. Todd stopped beside us, hazard lights flashing. I held her arm and waited for her to speak.

  “Go on,” I said when she didn’t say any more.

  “Sorry. You’ll hate me, but I’ve got some books and files in my locker. If I give you my key, could you pick them up for me on the way back tonight? I’m going to need them tomorrow. Stick them in a bag. There should be an empty rucksack in there. Sam’s on security, I think. He’ll let you in if you smile at him, but if not, don’t worry.”

  “Of course, no problem. Give me the key and I’m on it.”

  She managed a smile.

  “Thank you. That’ll save my life. Drop them off when you get back if that’s okay. I may be asleep, but if not I’ll leave my door slightly open. I may still be up.”

  I went inside to get her coat. She told me the number of her locker and gave me the key, then Todd helped her into the car.

  “There’s not much point in me coming back,” he said. “You’ll be nearly finished. I’ll drop Sophie and head off home. I’ll call you tomorrow, though, and see how she is.” He gave me a kiss and then got back behind the wheel.

  I watched them disappear round the corner and headed back inside. I didn’t realise just how much trouble doing a favour could cause.

  3

  ALMOST two hours later, just as I was getting a bit anxious about the time, the waiter finally cleared our plates away and we asked for the bill. Sara and Amelia sorted out the maths side of things, and we all put a ten pound note into the middle. It was close enough, by the time we’d factored in all of the drinks.

  We emerged onto the street, slightly the worse for wear, feeling the chill and drizzle of the late November evening.

  “What now?” asked Amelia. “Club? Or last orders and reggae at the bar?”

  “Either. Lead the way,” said Allen.

  “Not for me,” I said. “It’s almost half ten already. I’ve got a busy day tomorrow. Essays to write. I’m heading back.”

  Sara and Meirion looked at each other, then Sara spoke.

  “We’ll come with you,” she said, turning to me. “Let’s get a cab. We need to check in on Sophie.”

  That reminded me.

  “Actually, do you mind if we go via the Poly on the way? She asked me to pick some books up.”

  “Of course, least we can do.”

  It was a short walk from the restaurant to our Polytechnic building, near Oxford Circus. Sara and Meirion said they’d shelter outside while I tried to sweet-talk Sam, the night security man, into letting me in. It was actually easier than I anticipated, although the pay-off was ten minutes of small talk. I think he was glad of the company.

  Once I finally managed to extract myself, I walked through the deserted corridors to the lockers. It was spooky at night. It’s such a lively place during the day, but at night, with dim lighting and virtually complete silence, I couldn’t wait to get out.

  I stopped off briefly at the toilets. Lots of wine was taking its toll. I splashed my face with water to try to wake myself up, then found Sophie’s locker. As she’d mentioned, there were two bags inside. One contained clothes, which I took to be gym kit. The other was a small, empty rucksack. I loaded all of the books and files into it, headed back to reception, said goodnight to Sam and caught up with the others outside.

  “Sorry about that,” I said.

  “What kept you?” asked Sara, flicking a cigarette away. Her breath was catching in the cold night air.

  “I couldn’t get away from reception. Anyway, it’s all done.” I indicated the bag.

  We walked down to Oxford Street. It didn’t take long before we saw a taxi with a yellow light. Sara hailed it, and within ten minutes we were pulling up outside the hall. As we emerged from the lift on our floor, the other two said they’d go to make coffee in the communal kitchen. Sophie’s door was still slightly ajar, so I tapped before edging it open. She was in bed, but not looking very well at all.

  “Brilliant, thank you so much,” she said when I showed her the bag. I put it on her desk in front of the window.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Not good. I’ve thrown up twice. You should get off before you catch the bug.”

  “If you’re sure. Give me a knock if you need anything.”

  I said goodnight, and pulled her door closed, then poked my head into the kitchen and said goodnight to the others.

  “I’m heading to bed,” I said. “I’m knackered. Thanks for inviting me. It was a great night.”

  I gave them a quick update on Sophie and then returned to my room, unlocked the door and got ready for bed. I didn’t see anyone else until morning. It was the last night before my world fell apart.

  4

  Tuesday, November 21st, 1989

  I WAS still half-asleep when the police came to see me. When they mentioned the theft from the Polytechnic equipment store, I assumed they were consulting me as a possible witness, but by the time they dragged me down to Holborn police station I was under no illusion that I was anything but the prime - in fact the only - suspect.

  None of it made sense, but I couldn’t explain why two horrendously-expensive Hasselblad cameras were hidden in my room. Sam maintained I’d been the only visitor that night, and no, he hadn’t checked the bag he’d seen me leave with. I called for Sara and Meirion to back me up, but they just said I’d been in there longer than they’d thought I’d need, if I was just visiting a locker. Sophie confirmed that I’d dropped the rucksack off with her, but couldn’t say for certain that I hadn’t been back to my room first. And that all made the situation worse.

  By the time I’d been interviewed under caution and warned that they were investigating a list of other potential crimes, all of which bore similar hallmarks, I was almost ready to sign a confession. It was surreal. Even if I could protest that somebody else must have got into the Polytechnic unnoticed, I couldn’t explain away the physical evidence in the bottom of my wardrobe.

  I half-expected to be locked in a cell immediately, but thankfully they let me go. I was left under no illusion that it would be unwise to stray too far, and that official charges would inevitably follow. I wasn’t perceived as a danger to society, but equally, once they’d compiled the rest of the necessary evidence, they’d be back. And by then there’d be no escape.

  I couldn’t face going home. I felt confused and scared and overwhelmed with thoughts and theories that didn’t stack up. So I headed to the subsidised Student Union bar in a basement in Bolsover Street to lose myself in loud music and cheap alcohol. It was still early, so relatively empty, although an indie disco was building in volume. The place would be rocking later.

  I was sitting at the bar, trying to ignore a Stone Roses record and wondering if my second Martini and lemonade was such a good idea on an empty stomach, when I noticed him standing beside me.

  “Hi,” he said. I just groaned. The last thing I needed was somebody hitting on me, even if he did have the look of a floppy-fringed rock star.

  I took a sip of my drink and then turned towards him.

  “Not a good time,” I said. But he didn’t leave.

  “Are you okay?”

  I just laughed.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone,” he said.

  “If you don’t mind.” But still he didn’t go.

  “Obviously I’ve got to get a drink in first. What’s up?” he asked. “Bad day?”

  “That’s one way of putting it.” I looked at him properly for the first time. He seemed a nice guy, and I liked his soft northern accent. It wasn’t his fault that I wasn’t in the mood. The barmaid came, and he ordered a can of Red Stripe, o
n promotion. When the drink arrived he looked like he was going to leave, but instead he spoke again.

  “I’m Danny. If you need a shoulder to cry on, or just someone to shout at, I’ll be in the corner.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I’ll bear it in mind.”

  “And you are?”

  “Me? I’m... Well, completely fucked, if you really want to know.”

  “I meant your name.”

  “I know. God. I’m sorry. It’s Anna. But yes, a very bad day so not really interested in being chatted up if it’s all the same to you.”

  He smiled.

  “I’m not chatting you up,” he said. “I’ve got a girlfriend.” There was something in the way he said it that conveyed a joyful innocence.

  “So what, then?”

  “Nothing really. I’ve just seen you here off and on, and you always seem like you’re in the middle of things. But today you’re on your own so I thought I’d say hello. I’m sorry if it’s a bad time.”

  I downed my drink in one. I hoped things would start feeling better soon.

  “If you want to make yourself useful, see if you can work your magic and get the barmaid back,” I said. He nodded.

  “What are you drinking?” he asked.

  “I’m not asking you to get me a drink.”

  “I know, but I’d like to, if you’d let me.”

  I shrugged. I knew I should show gratitude, but fear had taken hold of my manners.

  “Go on then,” I said. “Martini and lemonade.”

  “Double?”

  “At a minimum.”

  “Shit, you are having a bad day.”

  When the drink was poured, he passed it to me.

  “So?” he said.

  “So what?”

  “So are you going to tell me what’s the matter? I may be able to help.”

  “Oh, I very much doubt that.”

  “Try me.”

  I took a deep breath.

  “Do you want me to summarise?”

  “Go on then.”

  I didn’t know quite where to start. I thought for a moment. There was something nice about talking to a stranger. My so-called friends hadn’t exactly backed me up.

  “Okay, well, I’ve been arrested. I’m going to get thrown off my course and I expect I’m going to end up in prison.”

  “Wow, that’s good going. What on earth have you done?”

  “What have I done? Fuck all. That’s the point.”

  “Sorry, that doesn’t make sense.”

  “Exactly.”

  He was frowning.

  “Are you being serious?” he asked eventually.

  “I wish I wasn’t.”

  “Shit.”

  There was an awkward silence. Surely I’d done enough to scare him off.

  “Should we get a table?” he said. He picked up my drink, and I had no option but to follow.

  The music wasn’t quite as loud in the corner, so I explained everything. Danny listened. He was very good at that.

  “So, that’s basically it,” I said when I finished.

  “But you didn’t actually do it,” he said.

  “I know that, but try telling anyone. All the evidence suggests I did. You can’t argue with the evidence.”

  “How did the police know to search your room?”

  I sighed.

  “The bloke who runs the storeroom, Anish, reported the theft when he got to work. Sam the security guard confirmed I was the only person with access to the building.”

  “And you’re sure the cameras weren’t already in the bag when you picked it up?”

  “Positive. The bag was empty. I put the books in myself. But it doesn’t matter. The point is how they ended up in my wardrobe.”

  “Could somebody have got into your room while you were at the restaurant?”

  “Possibly, but not without a key, and I had the only one with me. There was no sign of a break-in.”

  “I’m baffled then.”

  “I know. Me too. It would be fascinating if it wasn’t so bloody serious. My entire future’s at stake over this.”

  “Stay there. I’ll get us another drink.”

  He left to go to the bar. I half expected him to make a run for it altogether. Thankfully he didn’t, and he was back within a few minutes.

  “So what now?” he asked, when he was seated.

  “I think getting pissed is top of the agenda. And then, who knows? I’m never going to make anyone believe me.”

  He shrugged.

  “I believe you,” he said.

  I laughed again. The alcohol was working its magic. “Why, though?”

  “Because I trust you.”

  “You trust me? Are you mad? You don’t even know me.”

  He rubbed his chin in a thoughtful manner. I assumed it was done ironically.

  “Fair point. But, oh, I don’t know. I kind of feel like I do.”

  “You’ve only just met me.”

  His face softened.

  “Arguably, but I’ve noticed you. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve seen you in here. I always admired you. You’re usually in a big group but you always seem like the coolest person in here. We did once stand next to each other at a Michelle Shocked gig.”

  “When was that?”

  “Last year. Actually, not technically next to each other. You were behind me. I felt sorry for you because it didn’t look like you could see much, so I let you stand in front.”

  “Yes! Was that you? I remember that.”

  “Well there you go then.” He laughed. “Anyway, for what it’s worth, I trust you.”

  “It’s lovely that somebody does, but I still think you’re mad, and it still doesn’t change anything.”

  Before he had a chance to say anything else, I saw Todd come into the bar, looking around. I stood up without any real semblance of balance, and waved. He saw me and headed over. If I was expecting a supportive hug, I was about to be disappointed.

  “I thought you were working tonight,” I said, reaching out towards him.

  “I am,” he said, “but I’m going to be late now. I thought I’d find you here. What the fuck have you done?” Then he noticed my companion. “And more to the point, who the fuck is this?”

  “I haven’t done anything, and this is Danny. Danny, meet Todd, my boyfriend.”

  Danny stood up and offered a handshake but Todd ignored him.

  “That’s not what I’ve heard. Jesus, Anna. Stealing from your own fucking department. How stupid can you be?”

  “I haven’t stolen anything. I’m innocent!”

  “Right. And you’re pissed.”

  “A bit tipsy, but come on, you’ve got to believe me.”

  “I don’t know what to believe. Especially when I find you in the corner with some bastard the minute my back’s turned. I’m not discussing this in front of him. Outside. Now.”

  I turned to Danny and apologised, mortified.

  “Back in a moment,” I said, then turned and unsteadily followed Todd up the stairs and out onto the street outside. I wasn’t in the mood for this.

  5

  TO say we had a row would be an understatement. I don’t like arguments at the best of times, but I wasn’t going to stand in silence, getting rained on, when the one person who should have been the most supportive started shouting at me instead. Eventually, after providing improvised real-life street theatre for a couple of pedestrians, Todd stormed off, and I went back down to the basement to apologise again to Danny.

  To my utter dismay, he was no longer there. The bar had been steadily filling up and getting noisier. Two girls were now at our table, and Danny was nowhere to be seen.

  I swore to myself, aware that the room was spinning, feeling increasingly desperate, and ever more alone in the world. I didn’t know what to do. Have another drink or just go home and cry myself to sleep? I was deciding to be sensible and choose the latter when I saw him, walking towards me.

  “Sorry abo
ut that,” he said. “Two cans. I couldn’t hold it in any longer.” That, at least, made me smile. “So that was Todd. How did it go?”

  “Christ, don’t ask. Listen, do you want to go somewhere else?”

  “Yeah, if you like. What time do you have to get back?”

  I thought for a moment.

  “That’s a good point, actually. I should be heading back soon. Maybe one more somewhere quieter, though?”

  “How far away do you live? Don’t worry, before you start. I’m not inviting myself in, but I’d head back with you. I’d just like to know you got there safely. You’ve had enough go wrong already.”

  I was momentarily taken aback by the thoughtfulness, but as the idea sank in, it seemed ever more appealing.

  “It’s about half an hour’s walk. Only if you’re sure, though. It’s raining a bit. If we see a good pub we can stop on the way. Although I think I’ll switch to Britvic 55s”

  “Good plan,” said Danny. He led the way upstairs and then to the door, holding it open for me to pass.

  Thankfully, there was no sign of Todd outside on Bolsover Street, and I made sure we took a route that didn’t go anywhere near the bar where he worked. I was pleased, as well, that the rain had eased to a light drizzle. It was still cold though.

  As we walked, I gave Danny a summary of the confrontation. He was taller than me - who isn’t? - but it felt good walking alongside him. Less of a mismatch than my boyfriend, and hence less of the irrational urge to raise my voice to ensure it carried all the way up to his ears.

  As we relaxed in each other’s company, we started chatting about our respective backgrounds. I mentioned growing up just outside Manchester, and how London had been such a culture shock - especially when everyone on my course seemed older and much more experienced. I told him about a freelance commission I’d undertaken, photographing bowls of fruit for a supermarket, and how I’d recently started spending my spare time helping out at a commercial studio, run by the fashion photographer Mark Colby.

  In return, Danny told me about how he’d grown up in Sunderland and was inspired to follow a career in journalism when he saw a news item on TV.