Liar Liar

73

Emilia Garanita jogged up and down, trying to keep warm. The temperature was dropping fast and, despite the many layers she’d put on, she was frozen to the bone. She had always felt the cold – a legacy perhaps of her Portuguese heritage – and had never acclimatized to the raw winter winds that swept up the Solent into Southampton.

This was the part of the job she enjoyed least. Hanging out in doorways, on street corners, outside police stations and courtrooms, waiting and hoping for the story to come to her. Sometimes you got lucky, most of the time you did not. The knowledge that her siblings – all seven of them – were currently at home tucking into a takeaway in front of Gogglebox only made matters worse. She would give anything to be there with them now, enjoying the warmth and banter of a family evening in, rather than here, freezing her arse off in the vain hope of a break.

She would give it another hour or so. Her friendly PC had told her to expect developments but so far there had been no signs of movement. She had been posted in a doorway opposite the discreet back entrance of Southampton Central for nearly three hours now. For the first two of those she’d managed to amuse herself tweeting and surfing for info on Richard Ford. But his Facebook page had been shut down – his lawyer’s work no doubt – and the rest of his digital footprint was very limited indeed. This was a guy who seemed to exist in his own world and was thus a journalist’s worst nightmare. No easy copy, no creepy photos to use, no easy inferences to make and no way to damn him with his own words. Garanita hoped he was guilty just for the trouble he was causing her.

A sound made her look up and suddenly her heart beat a little faster. There was his lawyer, Hannah Shapiro. Normally she would stride out the front, bold as brass. If she was coming out the back, it could only mean…

There he was. He was hard to miss, the severe buzz cut failing to hide the fierce orange tone to his hair. If Ed Sheeran joined the army this is what he’d look like, Emilia chuckled to herself as she raised her camera. To her frustration, Shapiro’s blonde bob popped into view, blocking her shot. Nothing for it, Emilia thought, but the direct approach.

Striding towards him, she called out:

‘Richard? Richard Ford?’

He turned quickly, confused and alarmed by her sudden intrusion. Immediately Emilia fired off three shots. To her surprise, Ford now started marching directly towards her. She backed off, but was too slow – now he was grabbing at her, trying to tear the camera from her. She lashed out with the heel of her boot and prepared to defend herself, but suddenly Ford lurched backwards, dragged away by his irate lawyer.

‘You use any of those and we’ll sue,’ she shouted as she marched her client away to safety.

Like hell you will, Emilia thought to herself, smiling. She had every right to be here and she was very glad she had been.

She had been hoping to hang Richard Ford out to dry and now she had exactly the pictures she needed to do just that.