‘Ladies,gentlemen and members of Her Majesty’s armed forces, could I please have yourattention for one moment.’ The lounge was packed solid and, standing ontip-toe, Morton could just catch a glimpse of his father, standing on a leatherpouffe in the bay window with an arm tightly around Jeremy’s shoulder.
The room fellsilent.
‘Thankyou. I won’t keep you long, I know you’ve all got plenty of food to eatand beer to drink. I just wanted to say how proud I am of Jeremy; asentiment that I’m sure would be shared by his late mother, Maureen. Ittakes a lot of courage to join the army in these unpredictable and unstabletimes that we’re in today. I know there are others in the room who willalso be joining my son, so I just wanted to wish you all the best of luck andmay God’s good grace keep you all safe out in Cyprus.’
The assembledcrowd murmured their agreement, with glasses being raised and hands beingclapped.
Morton wasconfused. ‘Cyprus?’ he said loudly, to no-one in particular.
A beefy man infront of him turned. ‘Yeah, we’re off to Cyprus for a tour of duty.’
‘I didn’t knowwe were at war with Cyprus.’
The large manfrowned and said something but Morton wasn’t listening. For no apparentreason, an image of Peter Coldrick being blasted in the head at close rangeappeared in full clarity in his mind and at that moment his stomach decided toshow the world what semi-digested vol-au-vents, tuna sandwich and beer looklike. All over the hallway carpet.
Chapter Six
Sunday
The memory of the previous evening madeMorton’s eyes ping open involuntarily. Though his brain was suspended inwhat felt like a thick, mucous-like sludge, he could still remember hisvociferous protestations that the beers he’d consumed weren’t the reasonthat he’d thrown up all over his father’s fancy cream carpet. He hadtried to explain (particularly to the beefy man whose shoes had been caught inthe blast) that he was working for a dead man who had shot himself in thehead. That was the moment that Juliette had shot through the crowd like araging bull and bundled him straight out the front door. Noquestions. No goodbyes. No explanations. Just draggedunceremoniously from the house and shoved into the back of the car.
Morton touchedhis left bicep – the arm that Juliette had used to lever him out of the house –it was bruised and aching: a reasonable punishment, he supposed. Probablybest not to complain about it.
‘Morning,’Juliette said from beside him, her voice flat and emotionless. She wassitting upright in bed reading and Morton wondered what she was thinking. He rolled over and placed his arm across the top of her thighs. ‘Don’teven think about it,’ she warned.
‘What?’
‘Trying tosidle up to me,’ she said, without taking her eyes from the page. ‘You’vegot a lot of grovelling to do today, Morton Farrier.’
Ah, thoseprecious, wonderful words: Morton Farrier. She only used his name likethat when she was faking displeasure. She wasn’t reallyannoyed. Maybe just a tiny bit. It wouldn’t take him too long toget back on her good side.
‘I know. Sorry,’ he said, hauling himself up and hoping that his brain wouldn’t fallout. ‘Breakfast in bed?’ he asked. It was the single last thing onearth that he wanted to do and he hoped desperately that she would say no, orthat she’d had her breakfast hours ago. What was the time? He looked at the clock: ten twenty.
‘Yes, please,that would be a good start,’ she answered. ‘The full works.’
Morton had towork hard to restrain the whimpering cry in his larynx as he twisted his bodyand placed his feet on the floor. He hadn’t collapsed or died yet. That was achievement enough. With a deep breath and a concerted effort,Morton hauled himself up and waited for the room to stop merry-go-rounding infront of him before trudging to the kitchen like a decrepit old man in need ofa hip replacement or two. He was grateful to have made it all the way tothe kitchen without succumbing to death, and poured himself a welcome glass oforange juice. Someone had once told him that drinking orange juice afteralcohol lessens the severity of a hangover. Well, it was better late thannever, he guessed, as he sunk the glass much too quickly and then promptlyregretted it.
A while laterMorton carried a tray of scrambled eggs on toast, glass of orange juice and mugof filter coffee through to Juliette. She set down her trashy romancenovel and smiled.
‘Perfect,’ shesaid, fiercely attacking the breakfast. ‘Are you not having any?’
‘I had a bit ofdry toast, it was all my poor stomach could cope with,’ Morton said, lying downat her feet with a groan, hoping for a little sympathy.
‘It’s your ownstupid fault.’
Morton made astrange whining noise in agreement.
Two hours later, Juliette was sporting athick fluffy white dressing gown that they each owned after ‘stealing’ themduring a long weekend in Gleneagles last summer, a treat after Juliette hadbeen accepted to become a PCSO. They liked to tell people they’d stolenthe dressing gowns but actually the hotel had added the cost of them, sixtyquid each, onto their credit card bill, which Morton only discovered thefollowing month. In hindsight it wasn’t the best start to a career in lawenforcement.
‘So what haveyou got planned for today?’ Juliette asked.
‘First thingsfirst is to make sure that money cleared,’ Morton said, fully dressed,showered, breakfasted and ready to go. The hangover had at last lifted,like a thick fog leaving his brain.
‘Well, I’mgoing to spend the day in my dressing gown watching my backlog of EastEnders,’she announced, curling up prone on the sofa and switching on the television.
‘Enjoy,’ Mortonsaid, making his way upstairs to the study. He dialled the bank andwaited while his 0845 call was routed half way around the world.
Finally, asullen voice at the bank confirmed that his balance now stood at fiftythousand, two hundred and twenty-two pounds. Morton took the newssurprisingly morosely. He’d never had such a huge amount in his life, butthe money came in tandem with Peter Coldrick’s death. His thoughts wereinterrupted by a loud beep from the fax machine, heralding that the seldom-usedmachine was about to spring to life.
Morton waitedpatiently
