The Collared Collection (17 page)

‘It’s a bit odd, isn’t it?’ Robert asked. Something of an understatement, she thought.

‘I expect there’s a simple explanation,’ she blustered, feeling rather ill. Well actually there was; Balaclava Man had counted his chickens. ‘It’ll be a case of mistaken identity, or something like that, because the car was in my name.’ She accepted that was a rubbish statement but hoped he wouldn’t challenge her.

She turned a few pages to the obituaries. Her eye slid down to the ‘m’s; nothing yet for Ginny, so the notice she had placed hadn’t caught the press – but there was a joint entry for Delia and Giles Symonds. Jeez, she thought, as though it were a revelation, there’s death all around me; people are falling off the perch like flies. An involuntary shudder vibrated through her body, chattering her teeth.

David picked up on her discomfort. ‘Callie, I think we should be going.’

That suited her fine. But she didn’t immediately make a move; morbid fascination made her eyes drift back to the article Robert Wyatt had showed her – after all, not many people get to read a newspaper article (albeit a minute one, with her name spelt incorrectly), reporting their death.

So absorbed was she in comparing her curt entry to the gushing, proper eulogies for her fellow stiffs, that when something brushed against her ankle, she nearly shot through the ceiling with fright. A loud and long ‘meow’ announced Jasper’s arrival. She bent to scoop him up into her arms and squeeze and stroke him.

‘Jasper! Where have you been all this time, you silly cat?’ She nuzzled her face into his furry neck, which didn’t smell too sweet. ‘We’ve been so worried about you.’ He purred ecstatically and attempted to lick the skin from her hand with his rough tongue; she could feel he was very thin – his ribs were prominent.

She glared at Robert, her expression and raised eyebrows silently demanding an explanation. Was he going to confess to being a closet cat-napper, with Jasper his latest victim?

He had the good grace to look guilty. ‘Ah, that was the second thing I was going to show you … I found him in the garden last night, looking very sorry for himself. I think he’s probably been shut in somewhere for several days – he was ravenous and drank gallons of water when I brought him inside. I guessed it might be Jasper but thinking you had … err …’

She helped him out. ‘Died?’

‘Err … well … yes, I wasn’t sure what to do.’

She snapped, ‘Well, thank you for looking after him – Sam will be over the moon to have him back. We’d all pretty much given up hope of finding him – alive, at any rate.’

Anxious to get out of the stifling mausoleum as swiftly as possible, they left without further ado, though she did tersely thank Robert once again for returning Jasper. As they drove, the cat snuggled into her lap, making a noise like a traction engine and a pincushion of her thighs, kneading her with his claws. She called Sam to give him the good news and after he’d squealed deafening delight in her ear, he wanted to know when he could have him back.

She asked David, ‘Could you drop Jasper over at Dominic’s?’

‘Of course I can, but I thought you didn’t want to run the risk of leading Balaclava Man to where the boys are staying?’

‘True, that’s why I’m not seeing them today – but that doesn’t stop you from taxiing him over. You can deliver me to the pub – I’ll sit in the garden, surrounded by lots of people until you get back. I’ll be absolutely fine – it’ll only take you twenty minutes, max. What could possibly happen in that time?’

She could tell that David wasn’t happy with the plan, but she’d made up her mind.

Chapter Twenty-eight

David grudgingly let her out at one of the riverside pubs. From all the mithering he did, she was left in no doubt whatsoever that this was very much against his better judgement. But this was the new Callie; while she wasn’t intending to set herself up as a sitting duck, neither was she going to cower in a cupboard for evermore. She was confident Sam and Alex were perfectly safe with Dominic and, frankly, enough was enough. She hadn’t even found reading the report of her death to be particularly upsetting after the initial jolt, compared with other recent events – it was just a collection of printed words on a page and therefore couldn’t hurt her. Though having said that, she secretly hoped that when the time came, the real thing would laud her time on earth far more effusively.

She’d promised David she’d give Mike a ring to see if he could join her, only to hear her call go straight to his message service, so she joined in the six-deep scrum at the bar. Being ultra-careful not to spill her hard-won and outrageously expensive large glass of unidentified red wine, she shouldered her way into the garden to look for an empty seat. Her cunning plan had not taken into account that riverside pubs on hot Saturday afternoons tended to be heaving. Undeterred, and safe in the knowledge that David wouldn’t be much longer, she strolled toward the relative peace of the water’s edge.

In retrospect, she could see that was about as dumb as those daffy women in horror films, who enter a house – where they know it’s certain they will be pounced on by some form of flesh-eating mutant – without switching on the lights… In her defence, she could only reiterate that there were scores of people around and she had every justification to believe she would be perfectly safe. She strolled way too far along the towpath and stopped to watch a cricket match being played in a park that stretched down to the embankment opposite. Though not a great fan of the game and ignorant of the basic rules, these guys were actually whacking the ball and scoring runs, which caught her attention.

With the sun beating down on her bare head, grey matter simmering nicely, and her drink almost finished, a refill was tempting – next time she thought she’d opt for something refreshing, with ice. But she was in no hurry. She decided she’d watch the game for another few minutes to see if they could get out the incumbent batsman and then wander back to the bar. She was starting to wonder where David had got to – he’d been gone at least half an hour, possibly more.

Relating the sorry tale afterwards, even Callie found it hard to believe she had been so breathtakingly naive – maybe she hadn’t eaten enough brain food for breakfast that morning. Whatever the reason, she’d walked so far along the towpath that she was alone, or so she thought, slotted between murky water in front and a thickly wooded area behind. In mitigation, she could only plead that she was seduced by a rare moment of peace and solitude, and the traditional thwack of leather on willow. She held her breath when it seemed the batsman would be run out.

A hard blow to the middle of her back sent her slithering without warning down ten feet or so of angled concrete, toward the large jagged rocks that formed the man-made shore line below. By sheer fluke and frantic windmilling of arms, she managed to remain upright and instinctively bent forward in an effort to slow her descent. But the thin leather soles of her old sandals couldn’t find purchase on the smooth surface, and she was slipping down with some speed – any minute now, she’d smash into the rocks below to join her shattered wine glass, slivers of which were catching sunlight and winking up at her.

Resigned to a very painful landing and a selection of nasty injuries, it took her several seconds to register that she was no longer travelling south – her descent stopped by someone who had taken hold of the back of her shirt. She swivelled her head around to see Susan Williams. The strain of holding onto Callie was obvious in the contortion of her face and the beads of sweat pinging up on her brow. She knew she must weigh a lot more than Susan.

‘Here,’ she gasped, ‘grab hold of my hand and turn around.’

Slowly, she managed to do so. Susan wore trainers with thick rubber soles – which gripped the stone surface and enabled her to clamber back up the slope, literally inch by inch, using one hand to steady herself, while pulling Callie up behind with the other – luckily, she was much stronger than she appeared.

‘Boy, am I glad to see you,’ Callie wheezed, as they both flopped onto a grassy bank to recover. Apart from a grazed knee when she’d lost her footing whilst scaling the wall, she was shaken not stirred.

When she got her breath back, Susan asked, ‘Who was the guy? You must have really pissed him off.’

‘Guy, what guy?’

Susan regarded her as one would the village idiot’s less-intellectually-inclined sister. ‘Young guy, tall – why did he push you? Lover’s tiff?’

‘Err … no, long story – um, indulge a stupid question, would you, Susan?’ She nodded uncertainly. ‘Was he dressed all in black, wearing a balaclava?’ She was guessing the one that Giles ripped off as a souvenir had been replaced. In fact, BM probably had a whole drawer full of spares.

Susan screwed up her faced in disbelief. ‘A balaclava – in this heat? Are you mad? Come on, I think we could both do with a drink. And you’d better sit in the shade.’

They helped each other up and Susan strolled, while Callie limped, back to the bar. The sight of blood freely flowing down her leg earned them a table instantly.

‘What are you doing here?’ Susan asked when they were both recovered, cooling off under the shade of an umbrella.

‘Waiting for a friend – he went to make a delivery. I can’t think what’s keeping him.’ Sadness gate crashed the party. ‘Actually, Susan, I was going to ring you this weekend, before you came back to work … I … err … I’m afraid I have some awful news.’ She felt her lip tremble.

Susan put down her pint of lager. ‘Ginny?’

‘Yes – you already know?’

Nodding, she said, ‘George rang me this morning – I’d only just walked in the door when the phone rang. It’s hard to take in, isn’t it – such an awful, freak accident. I can’t believe she’s dead.’

Callie chose not to correct her about the accident bit. ‘I’m not sure I really believe it myself yet … perhaps when we have the funeral …’

‘Have you made arrangements? I’d be happy to help in any way I can.’

‘Thanks, Susan, that’s very good of you, but Elizabeth is Ginny’s executrix and we are working through everything together. We have an appointment with the undertaker on Wednesday.’

‘Flanagan’s? They’re the best, or so I hear.’

‘Yes, that’s the one – they came highly recommended by Bernard.’

‘Oh, right – and on a happier note, I understand congratulations are in order,’ she raised her glass, ‘you are our new boss?’

‘Yes, well senior partner. That came as a shock too – I’ve no idea what I’m going to do about that.’

‘Take your time, Callie, there’s no hurry.’ She jumped up, wobbling the table, ‘I’ll tell you what, you wait here – I’m going to buy a bottle of shampoo so we can drink a toast to Ginny.’ She would have been happy to toast with her white wine spritzer, but it was a nice thought.

As Susan hot-footed it to the bar, she saw David coming through in the opposite direction, looking very hot and bothered. ‘What’s happened to your leg?’ he asked. ‘I can’t leave you alone for five minutes, can I?’

She chose discretion. ‘Hello to you too! No need to fuss, David – I slipped, that’s all. You’ve been a long time, is everything alright?’

‘Yes, just the traffic is horrendous – and then I stayed and played with Sam and Jasper for a while. He’s so happy to have him back.’

‘I can imagine; one very grateful little boy. I couldn’t get hold of Mike, by the way, but I met Susan Williams here – you know, she’s one of the barristers at Montague’s.’ She made an executive decision that David would be happier not knowing the exact sequence of events.

‘I remember – the one who’s been in Paris. I don’t think I met her at Bernard’s bash, did I?’ He sipped his beer, got froth on his nose.

‘No, she’d already left by the time you arrived. That’s her coming now, carrying the champagne – we’re going to toast Ginny.’

‘Oh, OK … no, she doesn’t look familiar. So she’s only just found out about Ginny?’

‘Yes, this morning when she got home – George rang her.’

David stood, extended his hand to Susan, ‘Hi, I’m David Bennett, a friend of Callie’s – pleased to meet you, Susan.’

She had to put down glasses and bottle to respond, ‘Likewise, David – let me get another glass and you can join us in our toast.’

He shook his head, ‘No, please don’t worry, I’m not too keen on champagne and I’m driving anyway, so just the one drink for me. Ginny knew I was a Philistine, she’ll understand.’ He grabbed another chair as people vacated a neighbouring table.

Susan giggled. ‘If you’re sure?’

‘I’m sure, but I’ll gladly join you in your toast.’

Susan poured and handed Callie a glass. ‘To Ginny,’ she said, looking wistful, ‘the best friend and colleague anyone could wish for. We’ll miss her terribly.’

David and Callie together said, ‘To Ginny,’ then drank.

Susan’s eyes scanned the crowd.

‘Are you meant to be meeting someone?’ Callie asked, having no idea about her personal life, whether she was in a relationship or not.

‘Oh, I told my brother, Peter, I might come along for a drink and something to eat. But I took an earlier Eurostar than I originally planned, so he’s probably not expecting me to be home yet. He’ll turn up, or not – it really doesn’t matter.’

‘Callie and I are staying for a meal, perhaps you’d like to join us – and your brother, if he arrives,’ David said.

Susan flushed attractively. ‘Thank you, that would be very nice – if you’re sure I wouldn’t be intruding?’

‘That’s settled then,’ David grinned. ‘The more the merrier.’

Chapter Twenty-nine

On the Sunday, David and Callie lounged in bed all morning, reading the papers, eating buttered crumpets, and lazily making love. In the afternoon, they took a picnic to the botanical gardens.

He frowned, ‘You look a bit glum, what’s the matter?’

‘Nothing, really … I miss the boys, that’s all. If they were here, we’d be kicking a ball around and they’d have scoffed all the food by now, and be hassling for ice creams. It’s horribly quiet without them.’

He put his arm around her shoulder. ‘It’s not for ever, Callie, you want them to be safe, don’t you?’

She snapped, ‘Duh! That’s a stupid question! Of course I do, but it doesn’t stop me missing them like mad.’