I Remember You by Martin Edwards Page A

the Sandie Shaw song. Downstairs he had been struck by the casual atmosphere. Here, things were different. Sophie and the engineer swapped flip remarks but tension was as heavy in the air as approaching thunder. He felt the adrenalin pumping through his own system. No doubt about it, to appear on a live show was to rekindle long-forgotten childhood fears of public humiliation.
    Sophie sat astride a chair at the opposite end of the control panel to the engineer and spoke into an intercom which connected her with Baz. Harry found it disconcerting to see him mouthing his replies, yet to be unable to hear what he was saying. A jingle played and a phlegmatic Lancastrian voice began to extol the virtues of a chain of launderettes, whilst in the background a chorus of voices sang that listeners would be glad of that extra sheen that left their garments squeaky clean.
    â€˜You’ll be in the hot seat in five minutes,’ said Sophie. ‘Nothing to worry about. After all, you’re used to speaking in court: not like Finbar, and he turned out to be a natural broadcaster.’
    â€˜Somehow I can’t see him hosting Desert Island Discs or Yesterday In Parliament .’
    â€˜No, I mean it. He’s so warm, he has so much vitality - perfect for communicating with an audience. He comes over as a very attractive personality.’
    Thinking of the arson attack, of Sinead and of the man whom Finbar had been so anxious to avoid outside his office, Harry said sourly, ‘He’s not top of everyone’s popularity charts.’
    â€˜Oh, believe me, I can see why Melissa fell for him. Though I’ll admit Nick’s not his number one fan.’
    She giggled and added. ‘Nick did it deliberately, you know. Spilling the wine over Finbar, I mean.’
    Harry thought it politic to feign surprise. Sophie was not saying anything he hadn’t guessed the night before. But he was interested that she was frank enough to put conjecture into words.
    â€˜Finbar got up his nose, that’s what I mean.’ Sophie didn’t bother to hide her glee. ‘Nick’s a hunk and I love his bones, but he does like to be the centre of attention. And if something doesn’t suit him, he’s apt to fly off the handle. Maybe seeing his ex hang around a humble tattoo artist hurt his pride.’
    Yes, and Sophie’s egging-on of Finbar had stoked up the provocation, Harry thought. He contented himself with a wry smile.
    â€˜Not all that humble.’
    â€˜Perhaps not. Finbar can take most things in his stride, I guess. Which reminds me: I forgot to commiserate with him last night. I read in the paper about the fire at his studio. Arson, I gather.’
    â€˜The police are still investigating.’
    Sophie tapped him playfully on the shoulder. ‘You’re so guarded, Harry! A solicitor down to your socks. But it must be worrying for Finbar - to feel someone has burnt down his place on purpose.’
    â€˜He’ll survive.’
    â€˜I’m sure he will. Melissa will be in a state, all the same. I thought she looked peaky yesterday. Of course, she never has much colour, but even so she looked dreadful. And she can do without that sort of hassle after all the problems she’s had.’
    â€˜What problems?’
    Mischievous pleasure deepended the laughter lines round Sophie’s mouth and eyes. ‘Don’t you know? Oh, sorry. Perhaps I’d better not say any more. I simply thought that, as a friend, you...’
    A tiny girl in a pink tracksuit walked into the room, followed by a spotty young man wearing an Everton scarf. She looked to Harry as though she ought to be at school.
    â€˜Harry, this is Tracey Liggett, our weather girl,’ said Sophie. ‘And - Jason, isn’t it? - her boyfriend. He’s just here as a spectator. We keep open house on this programme, people drift in and out all the time, no wonder we call it Pop In . Tracey, meet Harry Devlin.