The Collared Collection (21 page)

‘Will she be OK?’ she asked the male paramedic, who didn’t seem to be wearing any form of identification.

‘There is obvious tissue damage,’ he said quietly, ‘which could have been a lot worse, if you hadn’t acted as quickly you did – it really depends on how much, if any, harm has been done to nerve endings. They’ll be able to tell you a lot more when they’ve given her the once over in hospital; best to wait and see. Are you in much pain?’

‘Oh no, I’m absolutely fine,’ she declared. Which wasn’t true, but she felt the need to suffer a little of what Elizabeth had to endure.

She was most reluctant to leave Elizabeth at the hospital, but was persuaded by a lovely nurse that she could do nothing more for her and the patient needed to rest. The pain relief was making her groggy anyway and she had been poked around by a succession of ‘ologists’, including a dermatologist and an ophthalmologist. The two constables who had come to take a report of the incident had by then returned to other duties and David was waiting in stony silence to take Callie home. She could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

‘What were you thinking, Callie?’ he demanded, as he dropped into the driver’s seat beside her. The set of his jaw declared his anger.

‘Please don’t make a fuss, David – I’m tired and I feel so dreadful about what happened to Elizabeth. I honestly didn’t think I’d be putting either of us at risk by popping into the pub for a quick one. That’s not where we were attacked, anyway.’

He banged the steering wheel with his fists – she feared the rust bucket might fall apart with shock. ‘I know that, but you promised me you would go straight to the funeral director’s and straight back – you didn’t.’

She really didn’t need this. ‘What’s your point? Should I have anticipated Balaclava Man’s attempt to cause death by Domestos in a crowded street?’

‘You have to be on your guard twenty-four hours a day, until this guy is caught – he seems to know your every movement, unless he follows you all the time … Which could be a possibility.’

Automatically, she scanned the road to see if they were being tailed. ‘It’s like we were saying before, this attack was malicious – I wasn’t going to die from it and as it turned out, poor Elizabeth bore the brunt of it. I’m now more sure than ever that we are dealing with a nutcase. He’s long ago forgotten that he started trying to rub me out of the picture because he thought I could identify him – now he’s just attacking me willy-nilly in any way that takes his fancy. He’ll be placing buckets of water on top of doors next.’

He glowered at her. ‘You shouldn’t make light of this type of attack, Callie – that would be a grave mistake. You could have been blinded today.’

‘I know that!’

He seethed for a few moments more before making a visible effort to sound more victim-friendly. ‘One good piece of news today, the coroner has released Ginny’s body for burial, so you can finalise arrangements.’

She said absently, ‘That’s good,’ then remembering the not-so-charming Herbie, added, ‘Though I think I might do that over the phone.’

‘The inquest will be a formality – I advise you not to go. But then, when have you ever taken any notice of my opinion?’

‘Oh shut up.’ She did, however, silently take heed.

A prickly silence rode along with them for several minutes, separating them like the referee at a boxing match, before she asked, ‘I was wondering, David – do you think I should go into hiding until this is all over? I really don’t want anyone else to be maimed – or worse – because of me.’

He didn’t hesitate, ‘No, I don’t think that would achieve anything … But you must make sure that I’m with you, if you need to leave the office during the day.’

It seemed prudent to agree – despite her uncomfortable suspicion that he needed her to continue in her role as a sitting target, if the police were to stand any chance at all of apprehending Balaclava Man.

Chapter Thirty-four

The scheduled Friday morning meeting for everyone at Montague’s was to go ahead, despite the absence of Elizabeth. And Callie was mighty nervous about what might evolve. Now that she was principal shareholder, she needed to sound out the opinions of the other partners and ancillary staff on a number of issues, not least whether she should stay on – and if so, in what capacity. In a way, it was good to have something chewy to occupy her mind, to take it off the tension that zapped between her and David like an electric force whenever they were together, ever since she’d dared to flout his authority. She knew he was deeply concerned about her safety and had only her best interests at heart, but he was being a claustrophobic pain in the bum and she really couldn’t cope with that sort of pressure, on top of everything else.

She was in early, sitting at her desk doodling, while she mulled over what she was going to say to her colleagues. Unusually, Bernard hadn’t beaten her through the door.

Susan came in, struggling with a weekend bag that bulged at the seams. ‘Morning, Callie, how was Elizabeth when you saw her last night?’

‘Hi, Susan – pretty good, considering. She looked a bit like the Invisible Man, with her face swathed in dressings, but she was quite chirpy – and itching to get out of there. She’s going stir crazy in a room by herself.’

‘Poor thing, any improvement in her eye function?’

‘Too early to say, according to her doctor – there’s still so much swelling they aren’t able to give a proper prognosis as yet.’

‘Mm … are we still on for the meeting at 10.30?’

‘Yes, she insists we go ahead without her, so that everyone knows where they stand. She’ll abide by any decisions we make.’

‘OK, that’s good. Listen, I want to get away after lunch – if you have no objections?’

She laughed, embarrassed. ‘Of course I don’t! Are you going somewhere exotic?’

‘Yes, the West Country – they do have palm trees … I’m hoping to do some diving and surfing. It’s been a while.’

‘With your brother?’

She snorted. ‘No … we’re not joined at the hip. I’ll be staying with friends, near Newquay.’

‘Lovely area, I hope you have a good time – are you back in on Monday?’

‘Yes – I’m at the Bailey first thing.’

Ronan stormed in, flapping his newspaper and a mini carrier from a takeaway sandwich company.

Callie asked a question she knew she’d regret. ‘What’s up, Ronan?’

He huffed and puffed, his fat cheeks scarlet, ‘Some friggin’ eejit left their rucksack on the train, caused a full-scale security alert.’

‘Come on, now, you can’t be too careful nowadays,’ said Susan, reasonably.

‘To be sure, but why did it have to be on my fecking train?’

Callie went to get him a coffee to calm his nerves. ‘There you go,’ she said, handing him a mug.

‘Holy Mother, if you aren’t an angel sent from Heaven above.’

She sighed, ‘Less of the blarney, Ronan – it’s only a coffee.’

‘Witnesses have been bought for less,’ chirped Susan. She turned at the sound of the door swinging, ‘Oh hi, Simon – OK?’ He didn’t look it.

‘Fine, thanks,’ he snapped, and went to sit at his desk, looking seriously hungover.

‘Ooo-ooh! Someone tied one on last night.’

‘Piss off, dear heart.’ He downed a handful of aspirins with long swigs from a bottle of mineral water. ‘Meeting a-OK for this morning, Callie?’ he croaked.

‘Oh yes – everyone who’s anyone’s will be there.’ She spoke with a forced jollity – nerves perhaps – and felt like a complete tosser the minute the words had left her lips.

‘For God’s sake …’ he grumbled, carefully shaking his head.

Tinker/Harry and George, striding as always in tandem, arrived when nobody in the office was talking – they all had their heads bent over their desks and Simon may have been dozing.

George boomed, without a trace of irony, ‘Cheer up, everybody – it’s like a bloody morgue in here. Go on, Harry, tell them that joke you’ve just told me.’

Harry was reluctant; he blushed and looked extremely youthful. ‘Maybe later?’

‘Nonsense, no time like the present – pupil does as master bids, remember?’

Backed into a corner, he said, ‘Oh alright … what do you get when you throw a bomb into a French kitchen?’

Ronan blustered, ‘Saints preserve us! It would be a friggin’ bomb joke.’

‘Shut up,’ hissed Susan.

Simon sighed, disturbed by the noise, ‘Tell us Harry, dear heart, the suspense is absolutely killing me.’ He yawned theatrically.

Harry obviously wished he were somewhere else. ‘Linoleum Blownapart.’

George laughed loudly and alone, while his pupil scurried away to hide behind the pile of law books on his desk. ‘Any news on Elizabeth?’ he asked Callie.

‘I was just telling Susan, I went to visit her last night and she seems fine in herself …’

Bernard bounded through the door, on what would be his last day, interrupting the flow of Callie’s report. He looked exhausted and thoroughly flustered. ‘Sorry, everyone! Bomb scare … had to walk a lot of the way.’ He fell into his chair and took out a snowy white handkerchief to wipe beads of sweat from his forehead.

‘Probably someone’s abandoned lunch,’ Simon growled.

‘Calm down, Bernard,’ said Callie, fearing he was about to have a seizure, ‘let me get you a cup of tea.’

Bernard smiled his gratitude. If all else failed, she thought, she’d be able to get a job as a tea lady. A copy of the local paper on Bernard’s desk caught her eye – she noticed fuzzy photographs of Dee and Giles on the front page under the headline
Tragic couple to be buried together
.

‘May I have a quick look, please?’ she asked.

‘Be my guest,’ he smiled again, looking slightly less taut.

Her eyes skimmed through the article, picking out phrases like ‘Mrs Symonds’, apparent suicide’, and ‘husband’s death from a heart attack’, before she came to ‘bizarre accident involving their son Thomas’. Her heart leapt into her mouth, but as she read on she was relieved to learn that he had sustained a non-serious leg injury, when he was knocked off his bike by a hit and run driver. She wondered if David knew about this – and if so, why hadn’t he mentioned it? And how had it got into the paper anyway, when the family were so shrouded in secrecy? Surely this couldn’t be the work of the omnipotent Balaclava Man? She had an overwhelming urge to call Alex and Sam, just to make sure they were alright, but when she checked the time, she realised they’d already be in school and have their phones turned off. She’d just have to wait.

It was standing room only in the interview lounge, which was stuffy even with all the windows open; they’d had to draw some of the heavy brocade drapes to offset blinding by sunlight.

Everyone, including their very own Colander Girls (real names Doris and May) had squashed themselves in there for the meeting. Latecomers, including Callie, who’d been psyching herself up in the Ladies’ for at least half an hour beforehand, were lucky to find enough room to breathe, let alone sit. Like her father before her, Ginny had not seen the need for anything resembling a Board Room, which would have been far too formal, hierarchical, and sedate for their liking.

At 10.32 a.m., she was about to call the meeting to order, when the door opened once more, hitting Simon Stirling squarely on his well-padded back.

Callie was dumbfounded to see who had joined them. ‘Elizabeth!’

‘Sorry, Bunter,’ she said to Simon, ‘I didn’t realise anyone was standing there.’

May stood up. ‘’Ere, Miss, you come and sit yerself down – it’s really nice to see you looking so well.’

‘Thanks, May,’ said Elizabeth, gratefully taking up the space she’d been offered on one of the sofas, ‘I am feeling a bit wobbly.’

‘When did they let you out?’ Callie asked, realising too late she’d used an unfortunate turn of phrase.

‘I wasn’t in prison, I discharged myself. One can only take so much pampering and bed rest.’

‘I must say, that’s a very fetching eye patch you’re sporting,’ George joked. ‘Does it come in other colours, apart from pirate noir?’

Elizabeth said wearily, ‘Do shut up, George,’ She fingered the eye patch, which pinned a thick cushion of dressing in place. The left side of her face was also covered and her hand bandaged – she moved it with great care. Apart from her well-tailored clothes, she looked like a refugee from a war-ravaged country.

‘Can I get you something? A glass of water, perhaps?’ asked Doris, slotting effortlessly into her capacity as mother hen.

‘I’m alright, thanks – perhaps I’ll have coffee with the rest of you later.’

‘Right,’ Callie began, ‘thank you all for arranging to be here – especially you, Elizabeth. Above and beyond the call of duty, I think.’ Elizabeth waved her good hand in acknowledgement. ‘Firstly, if any of you haven’t yet heard, Ginny’s funeral will be next Tuesday at the crematorium, 2 p.m. I do hope everyone will be able to make it. Just a reminder – at her specific request, no one should wear black and the service is to be a celebration of her life, rather than a mournful occasion. There will be drinks and food afterwards at a venue to be advised – that is, when I’ve managed to make suitable arrangements. I haven’t been able to find anywhere available at such short notice that can accommodate the large numbers who will wish to attend.’

Susan raised her hand, ‘I may be able to help you out there – I live very near the crem …’

‘Quiet neighbours?’ asked Simon.

Susan speared him with a withering look and continued, ‘You can all come back to my place and overspill into the garden if necessary, then there won’t be a problem.’

‘Thanks, Susan, that’s really good of you. We’ll have a chat about catering and booze later?’ she asked.

She nodded, ‘Sure.’

Doris piped up, ‘May and me would be happy to do the grub, wouldn’t we May?’

May beamed, showing off brand new dentures. ‘Yes, of course we would. Just let us know what you’d like and how many it’s for. I’ll get my daughter-in-law to help out – she’s very good at all them fancy bits and bobs and what have you.’

Blushing, Harry offered, ‘My uncle owns a pub, he’ll do us a sale or return deal on booze.’

George spluttered, ‘You have a publican in the family and I haven’t yet been introduced?’ He eyed Harry with mock anger and his chins folded in on themselves. The hapless boy turned a livid shade of crimson.