Don't panic.
Then I see Luke Brandon on the other side of the tent. His head jerks up as he sees me, and he starts heading towards me. Oh God, quick. Quick. I've got to find somebody to talk to.
Right, how about this couple standing together? The guy's middle-aged, the woman's quite a lot younger, and they don't look as if they know too many people, either. Thank God. Whoever they are, I'll just ask them how they're enjoying the Personal Finance Fair and whether they're finding it useful, and pretend I'm making notes for my article. And when Luke Brandon arrives, I'll be too engrossed in conversation even to notice him. OK, go.
I take a gulp of champagne, approach the man and smile brightly.
'Hi there,' I say. 'Rebecca Bloomwood, Successful Saving.'
'Hello,' he says, turning towards me and extends his hand. 'Derek Smeath from Endwich Bank. And this is my assistant, Erica.'
Oh my God.
I can't speak. I can't shake his hand. I can't run. My whole body's paralysed.
'Hi!' says Erica, giving me a friendly smile. 'I'm Erica Parnell.'
'Yes,' I say, after a huge pause. 'Yes, hi.'
Please don't recognize my name. Please don't recognize my name.
'Are you a journalist, then?' she says, looking at my name badge and frowning. 'Your name seems quite familiar.'
'Yes,' I manage. 'Yes, you… you might have read some of my articles.'
'I expect I have,' she says, and takes an unconcerned sip of champagne. 'We get all the financial mags in the office. Quite good, some of them.'
Slowly the circulation is returning to my body. It's going to be OK, I tell myself. They don't have a clue who I am.
'You journalists have to be expert on everything, I suppose,' says Derek, who has given up trying to shake my hand and is swigging his champagne instead.
'Yes, we do really,' I reply, and risk a smile. 'We get to know all areas of personal finance – from banking to unit trusts to life assurance.'
'And how do you acquire all this knowledge?'
'Oh, we just pick it up along the way,' I say smoothly.
You know what? This is quite fun, now that I've relaxed. You don't know who I am! I feel like chanting. You don't know who I am! And Derek Smeath isn't at all scary in the flesh. In fact he's rather cosy and friendly, like some nice sitcom uncle.
'I've often thought,' says Erica Parnell, 'that they should do a fly-on-the-wall documentary about a bank.' She gives me an expectant look and I nod vigorously.
'Good idea!' I say. 'I think that would be fascinating.'
'You should see some of the characters we get in! People who have absolutely no idea about their finances. Don't we, Derek?'
'You'd be amazed,' says Derek. 'Utterly amazed. The lengths people go to, just to avoid paying off their overdrafts! Or even talking to us!'
'Really?' I say, as though astonished.
'You wouldn't believe it!' says Erica. 'I sometimes wonder-'
'Rebecca!' A voice booms behind me and I turn round in shock to see Philip, clutching a glass of champagne and grinning at me. What's he doing here?
'Hi,' he says. 'Marketing cancelled the meeting, so I thought I'd pop along after all. How's it all going?'
'Oh, great!' I say, and take a gulp of champagne.
'This is Derek, and Erica… this is my editor, Philip
'Endwich Bank, eh?' says Philip, looking at Derek Smeath's name badge. 'You must know Martin Gollinger, then.'
'We're not head office, I'm afraid,' says Derek, giving a little laugh. 'I'm the manager of our Fulham branch.'
'Fulham!' says Philip. 'Trendy Fulham.'
And suddenly a warning bell goes off in my head. Dong-dong-dong! I've got to do something. I've got to say something; change the subject. But it's too late. I'm the spectator on the mountain, watching the trains collide in the valley below.
'Rebecca lives in Fulham,' Philip's saying. 'Who do you bank with, Rebecca? You're probably one of Derek's customers!' He laughs loudly at his own joke, and Derek laughs politely, too.
But I can't laugh. I'm frozen to the spot, watching Erica Parnell's face as it changes. As realization slowly dawns. She meets my eye, and I feel something icy drip down my spine.
'Rebecca Bloomwood,' she says, in quite a different voice. 'I thought I knew that name. Do you live in Burney Road, Rebecca?'
'That's clever!' says Philip. 'How did you know that?' And he takes another swig of champagne.
Shut up, Philip, I think frantically. Shut up.
'So you do?' Her voice is sweet but sharp. Oh God, now Philip's looking at me, waiting for me to answer.
'Yes,' I say, in a strangled voice, aware that my cheeks are flaming.
'Derek, have you realized who this is?' says Erica pleasantly. 'This is Rebecca Bloomwood, one of our customers. I think you spoke to her the other day. Remember?' Her voice hardens. 'The one with the dead dog?'
There's silence. I don't dare look at Derek Smeath's face. I don't dare look at anything except the floor.
'Well, there's a coincidence!' says Philip. 'More champagne, anyone?'
'Rebecca Bloomwood,' says Derek Smeath. He sounds quite faint. 'I don't believe it.'
'Yes!' I say, desperately slugging back the last of my champagne. 'Hahaha! It's a village. Well, I must be off and interview some more-'
'Wait!' says Erica, her voice like a dagger. 'We were hoping to have a little meeting with you, Rebecca. Weren't we, Derek?'
'Indeed we were, says Derek Smeath. I look up and meet his gaze – and feel a sudden trickle of fear. This man isn't like a cosy sitcom uncle any more. He's like a scary exam invigilator, who's just caught you cheating.
'That is,' he adds, pointedly, 'assuming your legs are both intact and you aren't suffering from any dreaded lurgy?'
'What's this?' says Philip cheerfully.
'How is the leg, by the way?' says Erica sweetly.
'Fine,' I mumble. 'Fine, thanks.' Stupid bitch.
'Good,' says Derek Smeath. 'So we'll say Monday at 9.30, shall we?' He looks at Philip. 'You don't mind if Rebecca joins us for a quick meeting on Monday morning, do you?'
'Of course not!' says Philip.
'And if she doesn't turn up,' says Derek Smeath, 'we'll know where to find her, won't we?' He gives me a sharp look, and I feel my stomach contract in fright.
'Rebecca'll turn up!' says Philip. 'Or if she doesn't, there'll be trouble!' He gives me a joky grin, lifts his glass and wanders off. Oh God, I think in panic. Don't leave me alone with them.
'Well, I'll look forward to seeing you,' says Derek Smeath. He pauses, and gives me a beady look. 'And if I remember rightly from our telephone conversation the other day, you'll be coming into some funds by then.'
Oh shit. I thought he'd have forgotten about that.
'That's right,' I say after a pause. 'Absolutely. My aunt's money. Well remembered! My aunt left me some money recently,' I explain to Erica Parnell.
Erica Parnell doesn't look impressed.
'Good,' says Derek Smeath. 'Then I'll expect you on Monday.'
'Fine,' I say, and smile even more confidently at him. 'Looking forward to it already!'
Financial Services Department
8th floor
Tower House
London Road
3nchester SO44 3DR
Ms Rebecca Blomwood
Charge Card Number 7854 4567
Flat 2
4 Burney Rd
London SW6 8FD
20 March 2000
Dear Ms Blomwood
FINAL REMINDER
Further to my letter of 3rd March, there is still an Outstanding balance of ?245.57 on your Octagon Charge Card. Should payment not arrive within the next seven days, your account will be frozen and further action will be taken.
I was glad to hear that you have found the Lord and accepted Jesus Christ as your saviour; unfortunately this has no bearing on the matter.