‘You are, aren’t you?’ said the man, hot-footing it after her, ‘youareBee Bearhorn?’
‘Please – leave me alone.’
‘I was a fan. Please – stop …’
Bee ignored him and kept on striding.
She needed a fag. Now.
Her fags were in her bag. In Dr Chan’s office.
Fuck.
‘D’you smoke?’ she said, spinning round on her heel to face to him.
‘Er – yeah.’
‘Can I have one?’
‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘sure.’ He began feeling his shirt pockets. ‘You can’t smoke in here though. You’ll have to go outside. There’s a balcony just through here.’ He steered her down another corridor.
On the balcony he passed her a cigarette and watched her closely while he lit it for her. Her hands were shaking as she took the cigarette from her lips to exhale.
‘Fuck,’ she exclaimed, leaning against the railings of the balcony and staring out into the distance. ‘Fuck. That was a nightmare. What a cunt that kid is.’
‘That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it? He’s only a child.’
‘No he’s not. He’s a demon. He’s Rosemary’s fucking Baby.’
‘And who are you then – Rosemary?’
‘No I am not. I am not that little fucker’s mother, all right.’
The man put his hands up in surrender. ‘Sorry. Right.Not another word. But you are Bee Bearhorn, right? I’d recognize you anywhere. I was a great fan, really. I even bought your third single.’
Bee exhaled and turned to smile at him. ‘Ah,’ she said, ‘So it wasyou,was it?’
He grinned and shrugged. ‘What can I say? I was a huge fan. I wanted to single-handedly revive your career.’
‘What a mug,’ she said, grinning at him.
‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘I guess. I’m Ed by the way. Ed Tewkesbury.’
‘Hi, Ed.’ She turned and shook his hand. He had small, cool hands.
‘Hi, Bee. Wow,’ he grinned, ‘I’m a bit starstruck. This is amazing, I mean …’
‘Look. Ed. All that stuff in there just now’ – she indicated the general direction of Zander’s room – ‘you won’t, you know? … I mean, that was all really personal stuff and I don’t want …’
Ed put a finger to his lips. ‘It will go no farther than this balcony. I swear.’
‘Really?’
‘Uh-huh. Do you honestly think that I would dob Bee Bearhorn in it? No way. Nuh-huh. My lips are superglued.’ He sealed them with his fingers. ‘And just to prove it,’ he said, reaching into his pockets and fishing out a small card which he passed to her, ‘here’s my number. And my address. And if you ever see any evidence anywhere that I’ve spilled a word of this to anyone, you have my express permission to come round and chop out some of my vital organs. OK?’
She took it from him and smiled again. ‘OK. And I would, you know? I’d enjoy it, too.’
‘Oh, no doubt … no doubt. Look. I’d better get back in there. I’m only here for a day and my team’s waiting for me. Good luck, Bee Bearhorn. With everything. It’s been an absolute honour meeting you.’