Zero History

translucently ancient waxed cotton jacket over the tweed Hollis remembered from
yesterday, more holes than fabric, the platonic opposite of Inchmale’s Japanese Gore-Tex.
“You told me you didn’t know how to contact her,” Hollis said. “And you certainly
didn’t indicate that she was in London.”
“I didn’t know, either one,” Meredith said. “Inchmale. Clammy was giving me the
gears, at the studio, because you’d promised to get him fresh kit if he helped you find
her.”
Hollis had forgotten about that. “I did,” she said.
“Inchmale was working on one of those charts he makes, the ones around the bottom
of a paper coffee cup, for each song. Is that simply more of his rubbish, or is it real?”
“Real.”
“And of course he was concentrating, or pretending to. And suddenly he said, ‘I know
her husband.’ Said he was another producer, very good, based in Chicago. He’d worked
with him. Said a name.”
“What name?”
Meredith looked her even more firmly in the eye. “I’d have to let her tell you that.”
“What else did Reg say?”
“Nothing. Not a word. Went back to his colored felts and his paper cup. But as soon as
I got my hands on a computer, I Googled the name. There he was. Image search, three
pages in, there she was, with him. That was only a few hours after I saw you, here.”
“That turned into quite an evening,” said Hollis.
“Did you quit?”
“I didn’t get a chance, but my position on quitting remains the same. Stronger, if
anything. I’m right off Bigend, if you could say I was ever on him. A lot’s happened.”
“I’ve mostly been on the phone, myself. Trying to reach her, through her husband.
Couldn’t reach him. Threw myself on Inchmale’s mercy. Had George put it to him,
actually.”
“And?”
“She called me. She’s here. She’s been here for a few weeks. East Midlands,
Northampton, looking at shoe factories. Doing a boot,” and suddenly Meredith was
smiling, then not. “On her way back now.”
Hollis was about to ask where to, but didn’t.
“I can take you to her now,” Meredith said. “That’s what she wants.”
“Why would—”
“Better she tells you. Are you coming or not? She’s leaving tomorrow.”
“Is it far?”
“Soho. Clammy has a car.”
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