I've Got Your Number

It’s been a long time. I think of you often, wondering what you’re up to, and would love to chat sometime. Did you ever get any of my phone messages? Don’t worry, I know you’re a busy fellow.

If you are ever in the neighborhood, you know you can always stop by. There is a little matter I’d like to raise with you—quite exciting, actually—but as I say, no hurry.

Yours ever,

Dad

As I get to the end I feel a bit shocked. I know this guy is a stranger and this is none of my business. But honestly. You’d think he could reply to his own father’s phone messages. How hard is it to spare half an hour for a chat? And his dad sounds so sweet and humble. Poor old man, having to email his own son’s PA. I feel like replying to him myself. I feel like visiting him, in his little cottage.²¹

Anyway. Whatever. Not my life. I press forward and the email goes zooming off, with all the others. A moment later Beyoncé starts singing. It’s Sam again.

“When exactly did Sir Nicholas Murray text Violet?” he says abruptly.

“Er … ” I peer at the phone. “About four hours ago.” The first few words of the text are displayed on the screen, so there’s no great harm in clicking on it and reading the rest, is there? Not that it’s very interesting.

Violet, please ask Sam to call me. His phone is switched off. Best, Nicholas.

“Shit. Shit.” Sam’s silent for a moment. “OK, if he texts again, you let me know straightaway, OK? Ring me.”

I open my mouth automatically to say, “What about your dad? Why don’t you ever ring him?” Then I close it again. No, Poppy. Bad idea.

“Ooh, there was a phone message earlier,” I say, suddenly remembering. “About liposuction or something, I think. That wasn’t for you?”

“Liposuction?” he echoes incredulously. “Not that I’m aware of.”

He doesn’t need to sound so scoffing. I was only asking. It must have been for Violet. Not that she’s likely to need liposuction, if she’s off modeling.

“So … we’re on? We have a deal?”

For a while he doesn’t reply, and I have an image of him glowering at his cell phone. I don’t exactly get the feeling he’s relishing this arrangement. But then, what choice does he have?

“I’ll get the PA email address transferred back to my inbox,” he says grouchily, almost to himself. “I’ll speak to the tech guys tomorrow. But the texts will keep coming to you. If I miss any of them—”

“You won’t! Look, I know this isn’t ideal,” I say, trying to mollify him. “And I’m sorry. But I’m really desperate. All the hotel staff have this number … all the cleaners … it’s my only hope. Just for a couple of days. And I promise I’ll send every single message on. Brownie’s honor.”

“Brownie’s what?” He sounds mystified.

“Honor! Brownie Guides? Like Scouts? You hold up one hand and you make the sign and you swear an oath … Hang on, I’ll show you… .” I disconnect the phone.

There’s a sheet of grimy mirror opposite me on the bus. I pose in front of it, holding the phone in one hand, making the Brownie sign with the other, and wearing my best “I’m a sane person’ smile. I take a picture and text it at once to Sam Mobile.

Five seconds later a text message pings back.

I could send this to the police and have you arrested.

I feel a little whoosh of relief. Could. That means he’s not going to.

I really, really appreciate it, I text back. Thx

But there’s no reply.

7 The Lion King. Natasha got free tickets. I thought it would be some lame kids’ thing, but it was brilliant.

8 Which I think you can.

9 I’ve never been quite sure what that means.

10 Maybe not a pervert, then.

11 OK, not just like Beyoncé. Like me imitating Beyoncé.

12 Not books with plots, by the way. Books with footnotes. Books about subjects, like history and anthropology and cultural relativism in Turkmenistan.

13 I wonder if they all take fish oil. I must remember to ask.

14 Don’t ask me. I listened really carefully and I still couldn’t work out how they disagreed. I don’t think the presenter could follow either.

15 Magnus said afterward he was joking. But it didn’t sound like a joke.

16 I’ve never even read any Proust. I don’t know why I had to bring him up.

17 I know. I’ve told him, a million times.

18 Not ponytail long, which would be gross. Just on the long side.

19 I don’t think Annalise’s ever forgiven me. In her head, if she hadn’t switched appointments, she’d be marrying him now.

20 You see? It’s all about the footnotes.

21 Assuming he lives in a little cottage. He sounds like he does. All alone, with maybe just a faithful dog for company.

3

The next morning I wake abruptly to see the phone flashing with a new text from the Berrow Hotel and feel so relieved I almost want to cry. They’ve found it! They’ve found it!

My fingers are fumbling as I unlock the phone, my mind galloping ahead. An early-morning cleaner found the ring clogging up a Hoover … discovered it in the ladies’ room … saw a glint on the carpet … now securely locked in the hotel safe …

Dear Guest,

Summer breaks, half price.