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Good evening, Mr Rees, they intoned, one after
the other, and walked out.
Silence crashed into place. I blinked stupidly
twice before my reactions flooded me.
I was furious and not ashamed to admit I was
scared as well. This was not the stupidly frivolous
nonsense I d longed for. Those men meant business.I
trailed a few metres behind them to make sure they
49
didn t hang around, and as soon as they climbed
into a large black Mercedes with tinted windows
and drove off, I made a beeline for the tack room and
the copper. I reassured myself that Adam was safe
and sound, then stalked back to the cottage.
Fox had set me up. He d had all yesterday to pump
my brother, all last night to poke around the cottage
and outbuildings, though he obviously hadn t found
Adam, hence the twenty-four hour deadline from the
Tweedles. I wondered if he d have the brass neck to
come back, but I doubted he d appear again. After
all, he d done his dirty work and what were a few
items of second-hand clothing to someone with over
a hundred quid on him -including, I remembered,
my tenner.
In spite of my terror, I fumed. I swore. Talk about
adding insult to injury. Something had to be done.
I picked up the phone, but froze with my fingers
poised over the number pad. Calling the police
-prompted by my law-abiding Rees genes - was my
first instinct. My second instinct came from the less
socially acceptable side of my ancestry. I needed to
know a hell of a lot more about what was going on
before I made a decision about contacting the cops.
Besides, I d have to explain about Our George and
the panels, not to mention the cash that went into
the Thatch Fund was mostly undeclared.Everything
the police might demand answers for would drop
Dad right in the shit.
I was so tangled up in my thoughts that the growl
of an approaching engine gave me a distinct shock,
then I realised that it sounded more like a lawn
50
mower than the Big Beast. Beau and his infernal fire
screen. Damndamndamn.
* * *
Getting the rather plump Beau and the fire screen
out of his antiquated Citroen 2CV and into the
cottage - without the rain touching either of them
- involved a sequence of masterful manoeuvrings
on my part. I, of course, was soaked through. The
screen could stay safe and dry in the living room
until the rain stopped and I could get it across to the
workshop.
The frame was an instant distraction for
me.Fashioned in beautifully turned rosewood, it had
a delicate flower design in mother of pearl and ivory
inlay, though some of it was beginning to lift. The
embroidery was very nice, too. And in pretty good
condition. I gave it a thorough inspection while
Beau revived himself on Dad s sherry and made
himself comfortable in the wing chair. Robbie-love,
you re a lifesaver, he fluted, patting my hand. How
soon, dear boy? Personally, I ve always thought he
overdid the gay stereotype thing. In comparison, he
made me look as butch as your average lumberjack.
Come off it, Beau, it isn t a rush job and you
know it, I said. Not if you want it done properly
and we don t work any other way. Would you like
some coffee?
Oh, yes, please, but only a little brandy in it,
dear. I m driving, you know.
Dad hasn t got any, I lied. So sue me. You ll
have whisky and like it. He simpered at me coyly.
51
Beau thinks he s a real charmer, but he s also a good
friend as long as I keep my backside and crotch out
of reach. He likes patting things. Because he s a
friend, I put the percolator on instead of the kettle,
and took out the porcelain cups in his honour.
As I came back into the living-room the hissing
bellow of a dinosaur began to grow in the distance.
How on earth could I have mistaken any other engine
for her? And he was travelling! Why the howling hell
had he come back? To make sure I handed over the
panel? I d sooner hand over Uncle Joe. I d lull Fox
into a false security, I decided, and wait for him to
make a mistake.
Hmph, Beau sniffed. One of Mike s odd
friends, by the sound of it. Are they staying with
Alan again?
Well, uh, I stalled. It s a long story.
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