False Report by Veronica Heley Page A

And her hair . . . and she was sure her lipstick had long since vanished. ‘Five minutes.’
    â€˜Ten,’ said CJ, handing the bouquet to Maggie, who was still burdened with the tray holding Jeremy’s snack. ‘Not a minute more.’
    Bea’s mobile phone rang. As she ran down the stairs to find it in her handbag, CJ followed her, saying, ‘Tell them to ring back later.’
    Bea fished it out of her handbag, feeling irritated. It was her first husband, Piers. ‘Look, Piers; I’m just about to go out. Can I ring you—?’
    â€˜This is urgent, Bea. I’ve found someone, you’d never guess, but you’ll have to hear it for yourself. Can you get to the studio about ten tomorrow?’
    â€˜Well, I . . .’ There was so much going on at the moment, she couldn’t think how she was fixed for tomorrow morning. And Ianthe—
    â€˜It really ought to be tonight; the shock may have worn off if we leave it—’
    â€˜What are you talking about?’
    CJ strolled into sight, gesturing to his watch.
    â€˜The Badger Game,’ said Piers.
    â€˜Oh,’ said Bea. ‘Right. I’ll be there.’ She clicked off her phone.
    CJ said, ‘Haven’t you a copy of today’s Times ? I’ve nearly finished the crossword, but . . . I did say ten minutes, didn’t I?’
    Bea nodded and made her way to the door. What should she change into? How much time did she have?
    And then she stopped in her tracks. CJ had asked her out for the evening, but not given her a time at which she should be ready. How like a man to assume you can drop everything and fall in with his timetable!
    Bea could see Maggie in the kitchen, finding a vase in which to put CJ’s bouquet of flowers. Maggie was not coping well with what was happening. Maggie had been in tears earlier that week, and Bea hadn’t stopped to talk to her about it.
    Well, she’d talk to Maggie tomorrow . . . after she’d been to see Piers.
    Bea put her foot on the first step of the stairs and hesitated. Dear Lord above, surely it won’t hurt to leave it another day?
    Yes, it would.
    Which was more important: trying to sort Maggie out, or falling in line with CJ’s idea of punctuality?
    Bea took her foot off the step and went into the kitchen. ‘Maggie, I hate seeing you so miserable. I’m miserable, too. Can’t we talk about it?’
    Maggie gave a little sob, but continued to slot the flowers one by one into the vase. ‘It’s all right, honest. I’ve always known I’d have to move on sometime.’
    â€˜I don’t want you to go.’
    â€˜Yes, but that’s the way it’s got to be, isn’t it? I’ll manage. You don’t have to worry about me at all. Or Oliver.’
    â€˜Is Oliver angry with me? He hasn’t been in touch, and I desperately need his advice.’
    Maggie twisted round to look at Bea. ‘But he said . . . He tried for days but you never replied to his emails.’
    Bea blinked. ‘What? But . . . Maggie, I’ve looked every day for emails from him, and . . . do you think that the new computer system is deleting his emails?’
    â€˜But he tried texting you and ringing your new mobile number—’
    â€˜What new mobile number? I haven’t changed . . . On the other hand, Ianthe seems to have been dialling a wrong number and—’
    CJ’s voice cut her off. ‘Ten minutes, Bea?’
    â€˜This is important, CJ. Maggie . . .?’
    â€˜You mean . . .?’
    Bea could hear her voice rise. ‘Maggie, if you really want to move out, I’ll understand and help all I can. But I don’t want to lose you, too.’
    â€˜But—’
    â€˜I did say ten minutes, didn’t I?’ CJ was getting sharp.
    Maggie abandoned the flowers to wring her hands. ‘Max said you were selling up and giving me some money for a deposit on a flat of my