by Lynda Renham
‘I don’t believe this,’ she mumbles, turning the taps off. ‘Isn’t there a bell you can pull to get that Cedric guy up here? He can tell us where we can find a bank.’
‘This isn’t Upstairs Downstairs you know,’ I quip, picking up the phone and dialling the kitchen.
‘Yes Miss Harriet?’ Cedric answers.
‘I need to get some money. Is there a bank near here?’
‘There is one in the village, not far from here Miss Harriet. Should I ask James to come round with the car?’
I sigh with relief.
‘That would be wonderful Cedric, thank you. I have to go with Fiona to sort out some things and sign some boring papers,’ I say with a forced yawn.
‘Yes, of course Miss Harriet. I’ll be sure to have Emily ready for when you return, to dress you for the shoot.’
Oh shit, I’d happily forgotten about the bloody clay pigeon thing.
‘Let’s go,’ I say briskly.
Fiona looks longingly at the bath. Mumbles something about things being too good to be true and pulls out the bath plug.
Chapter Eighteen
Fortunately the bank isn’t that far away. I drag Fiona to the cash machine, whip out my debit card, punch in the numbers and withdraw three hundred pounds. I hold the notes tightly in my hand and wonder if I will actually be able to part with them when the time comes. I silently curse Julian and turn to Fiona who is fumbling in her purse.
‘It’s here somewhere,’ she mutters. I try hard not to sigh, and yank her glasses from her handbag.
She reluctantly puts them on and finally pulls out a debit card. A small queue is beginning to form behind us and I urge her to hurry up.
‘Damn,’ she mumbles.
I follow her gaze to the machine’s screen.
Incorrect pin, please try again.
I put my head in my hands.
‘How can you not know your pin number?’ I say accusingly.
She runs her hand through her hair.
‘Okay, don’t nag me. I just have to think. Debit card, debit card,’ she mumbles. ‘I’ve not used the thing for about a year. Right, if it’s not my birthday then it must be Alistair’s. I’ll try that.’
I cross my fingers and hold my breath as she punches in the numbers and groans when the message flags up again.
‘Oh God Fi, this is your last chance,’ I say panic punching me in the stomach. Jack Diamond is already decidedly pissed off with me. I somehow don’t think he will take kindly to me telling him I don’t have the money because Fiona couldn’t remember her pin number.
‘Jesus, the pressure,’ she groans, biting her nails.
‘Think,’ I say, adding to the pressure. ‘What numbers do you usually use for these things?’
‘Well obviously they’re all different aren’t they? That’s what they tell you to do isn’t it? Have different passwords and things, so you don’t get hacked.’
‘Someone will get hacked alright, if we don’t give them the money.’
Her face lights up.
‘I remember now. It’s the date Alistair and I met.’
I scoff.
‘No wonder you couldn’t remember it.’
‘You’re cruel sometimes, do you know that?’ she says in a hurt voice.
I decide only to apologise if it accepts the number. She taps it in and hallelujah, she gets it right.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say.
‘Oh God,’ says Fiona.
I look reluctantly at the screen, ‘Your withdrawal has been declined due to insufficient funds.’
‘I take that apology back. How can you have insufficient funds?’ I say accusingly.
She stamps her foot angrily.
‘Okay, so I don’t have enough. You’re a fine one to talk. You’ve not always been so flush, remember. I’ll take out a hundred on this and the rest on my credit card.’
A man behind us grunts and we pretend not to hear him. She tries again and manages successfully to withdraw one hundred pounds.
‘Right, that gives us four hundred,’ she says gleefully.
‘Keep your voice down,’ I whisper.
She fumbles through a wad of cards. She must have at least twenty of the things
‘Hau much longer will yer be,’ asks a woman behind us. ‘I’ve got wee bairns.’
‘Sorry,’ I say politely.
‘Hurry up,’ I say not so politely to Fiona. ‘The lady’s got wee burns.’
Fiona turns to glance at the woman.
‘How do you get those?’ she whispers.
‘How the hell do I know, now hurry up for God’s sake.’
‘Okay, okay, I have to think this through. The Barclaycard Gold is no good. I’m up to the limit on that. My standard Halifax has been blocked. I lost it, well at least I thought I’d lost it but then I found it in my make-up bag, but I’d cancelled it by then and the new one hasn’t come yet.’
‘Fiona, you’re giving me a migraine.’
‘Okay, sorry, I’ll try my other Halifax card I should be able to get fifty on that.’
‘You’ve got two?’
‘It’s a long story, and I don’t think …’
‘No, you’re right. Just do it Fi.’
Jesus, we’re going to be here all night and I don’t even have a mobile to let Hamilton know I may be late back for the shoot. See what happens when you try to deceive people. It all comes back on you in the end. The Halifax card gives us another fifty with still another one hundred and fifty to go. I’m thinking it would be easier and quicker to mug someone.
‘Bugger it,’ sighs Fiona rummaging through her bag and spilling half the contents.
‘I’ve got a Creation card somewhere. I know the pin for that one and I have credit. I feel sure I have,’ she says desperately.
I look behind at the queue and give everyone an apologetic smile as I diplomatically retrieve her spare undies that have attached themselves to someone’s leg.
‘Are yer leaving anything in that there machine lass?’ asks one woman.
‘Got it,’ Fi shouts, and everyone applauds.
God, this is dead embarrassing. The machine accepts her pin and surprisingly allows her to withdraw another one hundred.
‘Shit, we still need fifty,’ I say.
Fiona begins another bag search and I hear a group sigh from the queue behind us.
‘Whit if we all gie ‘em a fiver?’ calls someone. ‘I’m already saxty sieven. I don’t want to still be standing here when I’m saxty aicht.’
‘What did he say?’ asks Fiona.
‘A’m already late for the bairns, I’ll gie a fiver.’
‘If it means we don’t see her knickers again, I’m happy to give a fiver.’
‘It’s okay,’ says Fiona nicely. ‘I have another one I can use.’
There is a groan as she pushes yet another card into the machine only to get the pin number wrong again.
‘Why don’t you know the pin numbers,’ I say, so exasperated at this point that I could scream.
‘Because I don’t usually use these cards for buying things,’ she retorts.
‘What the hell do you use them for then?’
‘Scraping her windscreen probably,’ someone quips.
‘I pay off my Barclaycard with them. So I don’t need a pin when I pay over the phone.’
I can’t believe she is an accountant. When it comes to her own money she is as useless. The second try results in another decline and with a shaking hand she taps into her Blackberry to search for the pin number.
‘I’m sure I put it in here under Creation or something.’
‘It’s most likely under pin,’ I say cynically.
A few more grunts from the queue and she hiccups back a little sob.
‘I can’t find anything. I’ll just have to try again.’
A last ditch effort and a small hissing sound from the machine tells us it has swallowed the card.
‘Oh no,’ she cries. ‘It will all be my fault if they ch
op something off. I feel so guilty.’
She begins to sob. I grab her and pull her towards the limo.
‘Thank you for your patience,’ I say politely as we pass the long line of people.
‘Well a’ll be foocked,’ I hear one say as James opens the door for us.
‘They say those with money are the worst,’ mumbles the burns woman.
‘I’ll try and borrow it from Hamilton,’ I say, knowing full well I won’t. There is no way he will give me any more money. I’ll just have to write a little apologetic note to the Jacks explaining the pay-off is short by fifty quid. I’m sure they’ll understand.
‘Oh yeah, sure they will,’ says Fiona when I tell her my plan. ‘And that’s a pig I just saw fly by. We’re foocked.’
I think she means I’m foocked.
* * *
Diamond waltzes past me in the hallway, panting tuna fish breath as she goes. I have left Fiona to her luxurious bath and have quickly changed. I decide to take a stroll to work off my frustration, or I’ll end up shooting a lot more than bloody clay pigeons. The grounds are immaculate and I pass the gardener tending a flower bed.
‘The gardens are lovely,’ I say casually. ‘I don’t have a garden where I live. Well, you can’t really can you, not when you’re on the third floor. I tried to grow some hyacinths once but they just kept sort of flopping, do you know what I mean?’
God, I must be seriously losing the plot if I’m discussing my hyacinths with the gardener. I see Melanie watching me from a window and continue walking. I think of my little flat at Marlborough Mansions. If only I was there now and none of this had ever happened. I could be poring over my study books while the spag bol bubbled away nicely. Okay, so we never had champagne, and there wasn’t much luxury and I slapped on Aldi’s cheap face cream, but I was happy wasn’t I? The Clinique is doing bugger all. I’ve aged overnight from all the stress anyway. I didn’t mind cheap plonk. It fact, if you ask me it tastes better than the posh stuff we have here. Okay, so I mixed it with lemonade but so what. Just goes to show I’m not meant for this kind of life am I? I have to constantly remind myself not to add lemonade to the wine. My mind wanders to the Jacks and my heart sinks. I look around expecting to see them pop up from behind a rhododendron bush any minute. How could I be fifty quid short? Diamond will go bananas. It occurs to me I could kidnap Diamond, not Jack Diamond, of course, I’m not that daft. Diamond the cat obviously. Margarita would no doubt pay a small fortune to get her back. I’d only have to hold the little demon for a few hours and then I could miraculously find her and claim the reward. I sigh. No, that wouldn’t work. I don’t imagine for one second the reward will be more than a thousand. Oh, if only a thousand was all I needed. Mind you, fifty pounds right now would be good. Jesus, the thought of having a shotgun in my hand shortly is a bit disconcerting. I’m seriously beginning to feel I could mow everyone down. How could Julian have abandoned me like this? He must have been deceiving me the whole time we had been together, and because of him my future has been shot to pieces. As you can see I’m trying to stay in shooting mode. The Jacks are going to bleed us dry, or should I say bleed me dry. I wonder if Julian has tried to call.
‘Penny for your thoughts.’
I look up to see Brice Edmunds walking towards me. I sigh. Wanky tit basket, this is all I need.
‘Make it fifty quid and I’ll consider it,’ I say wryly.
He gives me a quizzical look. Actually, on reflection maybe it is time I gave him a piece of my mind and a large piece at that. He’s wearing a brown Lambswool pullover with a zip-neck. Beneath it I can just see a checked green shirt. His hair is tousled from where the wind has blown it. He approaches with a smile; I return it with a scowl. I’ve had as much as I can take from him. He is carrying a waterproof jacket and wears wellingtons over his corduroys. I march towards him feeling my face flush with anger. Ahead, in the distance, I can see Stalkers Lodge, and the memory of his hand on mine when we were treating the tramp floods into my mind.
‘How dare you judge me,’ I say angrily, feeling my jaw tighten. ‘You know nothing about me, nothing at all. You’re arrogant, rude, and disrespectful.’
He stops smiling and bites his lip. God, what’s happening to me? I’m getting aroused just by watching him biting his lip. Christ, I’ve been too long without sex, that’s my problem. It wasn’t a case of not wanting it with Julian you understand. It was more a case of staying awake to have it. I actually didn’t, in fact, stay awake that is. I fell asleep in the middle. How embarrassing is that? I look at Brice Edmunds and find myself thinking no way would I fall asleep in the middle of anything with you.
‘I apologise for earlier. You’re quite right, I was rude,’ he says quietly.
‘Oh,’ I say, taken aback.
‘You’re very attractive when you’re angry,’ he smiles. ‘You have a very open face. Your eyes blaze when you’re angry and you lower them when you’re hiding something.’
I feel my jaw tighten.
‘How dare …’
‘And your nose gives a little twitch when you feel uncomfortable.’
Christ, what is he doing, some kind of human study on me? I’ll also show him how quickly my knee can jerk in a minute if he’s not careful.
‘Or maybe it just twitches when I’m casting a spell,’ I say, ‘so be careful I don’t turn you into a frog.’
He smiles.
‘I presume you’re not clay shooting in that outfit, as nice as it is.’
I look down at my silk shirt and jeans and pull my cardigan together.
‘Of course not,’ I snap.
‘Marcus sorted you out a nice little outfit did he? Oh yes, of course,’ he says, tapping his head. ‘I remember now, didn’t he say something about being grateful you didn’t have a shotgun in your hand, that the riding crop had been quite an ordeal. Odd thing to say don’t you think, to someone’s who’s an expert?’
‘I’m rather wishing I had the riding crop in my hand at this moment.’
He gives me a smile so sensual and says in a voice that I’m sure would bring most women to orgasm,
‘I didn’t have you down as the kinky type. You’re full of nice surprises.’
I struggle to control my breathing.
‘Look, I know you don’t like me …’
He raises his eyebrows.
‘I never said that. I’ve actually always liked you.’
My heart dances in my chest and the words tell him, tell him now shout in my head. But I can’t. I can’t tell him that Hamilton has paid me a lot of money to lie to his grandmother can I? Well I can, but then I’d have to explain about Julian and the Jacks, and then he’ll know how poor I really am and that I only work in a laundrette and he’ll then hate me. At least he actually likes me at the moment. Go on take a chance, whispers a voice in my head, what is the worst that can happen? Well actually the worst that can happen is that Hamilton will demand the money back, which means the Jacks won’t get their monkey short of fifty quid, and they will burn down the restaurant, which in turn means Julian won’t get his backer and that of course means Julian will be toast, that is if he isn’t already. But seeing as I don’t know if he is toast I can’t take the risk can I? God, my head is spinning.
‘I’m thinking you might like to come for a boat trip across the loch with me tomorrow,’ he says casually.
‘And what on earth do you think would possess me to go on a boat trip across the loch with you?’ I say disdainfully while thinking what a lovely, if not dangerous, idea it is.
‘Because I’m presuming you may prefer it to the stag stalk my grandmother has planned for tomorrow. You don’t look much like a stag stalker to me. Personally I detest it.’
Oh dear God, stag stalking. I hate killing anything but to kill a poor little deer would be awful. I try to hide the distaste from my face but fail miserably.
‘That’s settled then. I’ll be leaving at ten.’
He turns and strides away from me.
&nb
sp; ‘No, hang on a minute. I’ll just stay at the house and …’ I say, following like a power walker.
He smirks.
‘And you think Grandmother will fall for that? You’ll have a convenient migraine will you? I should tell you, Grandmother doesn’t warm to women with failing health. Far better if you say you had agreed to come on the trip with me to see something of the estate. At least that way I’ll know the family silver is safe while everyone is out.’
I gape at him. What a wanking, pissing, bastard.
‘That’s slander,’ I snap, pushing past him.
‘So take me to court.’
‘Go to hell,’ I say viciously and march to the house almost falling over Diamond in the process.
‘Bollocking cat,’ I mumble and stomp up the stairs. Fiona meets me on the landing, dressed in shooting gear. She tips her cap.
‘Where have you been? Emily has been waiting to dress you. What do you think?’ she asks gaily, giving a twirl.
‘Fiona, have you forgotten why we are here? Where did you get that? And if you think I am letting you near a gun without contacts then forget it. Murder at the manor we do not need.’
‘Christ,’ she grumbles, ‘who rattled your cage?’
Emily greets me with a wide smile.
‘Oh Miss Harriet, it’s good you are here, I have everything laid out for you. The shoot is about to start and Cedric is setting everything up. Now, how shall we dress you?’
I think I shall have to give up trying to get her to call me just plain Harriet. A tray of oatcakes sits on the table with a pot of tea. I stare at them with a feeling of doom.
‘How do you usually dress the condemned?’ I mumble.
‘Bloody hell you’re cheerful,’ says Fiona. ‘Here,’ she passes me an oatcake, ‘your last supper madam.’
‘Are you coming down for the shoot?’ Calls Hamilton in that whiney voice that makes me cringe.
‘We’re coming,’ shouts Fiona.
Oh well, I’ve only got to fire a gun at a stupid clay pigeon. That can’t be too hard can it? So let’s get it over with.