Best Served Cold

by Limey Lady

  She had a sip from her flimsy, vending machine cup before taking a last look at her company mobile. Nothing important missed so off with that until morning. And fuck it; on with her personal one instead. No missed calls but half a dozen texts, one of them leaping straight out and slapping her face. It was from the estate agents in Bristol.

  Please ring before eight. It’s urgent.

  A tremor of excitement hit her tummy. She hadn’t felt anything like this in ages. Not since . . .

  Never mind that, girl. Ring them.

  She did, impressed by the quick pick-up and the way she was immediately put through to her contact, Alyssa.

  ‘Ms Dwyer, hi there and thank you so much for calling back.’

  ‘It’s my pleasure. I’m only surprised you’re still there at this time. I thought it was only workaholics like me who kept such hours.’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s my turn for the graveyard shift. But never mind all the woes. I have some good news, I hope.’

  An even bigger tremor hit DeeDee’s tummy.

  ‘Go on,’ she said, completely unaware she was holding her breath.

  ‘You’ve had an offer on your apartment.’

  ‘At last . . . and hallelujah,’ DeeDee said. Then she hesitated, hardly daring to ask. After ages without an offer, any offer had to be good.

  ‘Don’t you want to know how much?’

  The other woman’s tone gave it away. This wasn’t a timewasting offer. Oh no.

  ‘Okay, Alyssa. Sock it to me.’

  ‘It’s the full asking price.’

  DeeDee squealed. Her self-control was normally first class, but right now she couldn’t help it.

  ‘There is one condition . . .’

  ‘Oh rats.’

  ‘The buyer is desperate for an early completion date. Would you mind pulling out all the stops?’

  DeeDee squealed again before detaching herself from the ceiling and forcing herself to be calm and professional.

  ‘I accept,’ she said. ‘And I’ll complete tomorrow, if that’s early enough for them. Assuming everyone else can manage the paperwork.’

  After hanging up she danced a wild celebratory jig in her stockinged feet.

  ‘Oh yes,’ she cried, bumping and grinding her lower body in an orgasmic sort of a way in front of the window. ‘Oh . . . fucking . . . well . . . yes!

  ’

  Then a thought struck her and she made a bolt for the card in her handbag. Two minutes later she was dialling out on her mobile and a polite voice was answering.

  ‘Good evening, Walker and Smith, Bingley office.’

  ‘Good evening. It’s Debra Dwyer. You’re selling a property for me in East Morton.’

  ‘That’s right. I think we had someone asking about it this afternoon. If you can just hold on a couple of seconds . . .’

  ‘No! No I can’t. Tell whoever was asking to forget it. I’m taking it off the market.’

  There was a brief pause at the other end of the line. Then the polite voice resumed earnestly: ‘I do hope we haven’t done something to upset you. Properties are moving very slowly at the moment. Can’t you sleep on your decision, perhaps drop in and speak to us in the morning . . .’

  ‘No, no. You don’t understand. I’m not cutting you adrift. You’re selling next door to my mum’s as well, aren’t you?’

  A moment’s silence ensued. Then: ‘Number Eight. That’s right.’

  ‘So there isn’t a problem. I just don’t want to be a seller anymore. I want to be a buyer . . .’

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  (Wednesday 24th September 2008)

  At first Heather thought she'd have to track Uncle Rick to the canteen or coffee shop, but she saw him as soon as she left Dad's bay. He'd only got as far as the nurses' station, where he was lingering, doing his best to charm the lady with the tea trolley, angling for a free cuppa.

  ‘Two sugars,’ she said as the tea lady capitulated. ‘How unhealthy is that!’

  Rick smiled as the trolley moved on. ‘A bit of sugar’s nothing to worry about. I'll soon burn it off.’

  He stood aside to let her pass but Heather wasn't having that for one moment.

  ‘You must be Uncle Rick. Penny told me you were dangerously attractive.’

  This time his smile was even warmer. ‘Please,’ he said, ‘call me Rick. I get enough ageism at work.’

  ‘Rick it is then. Pleased to meet you. I'm Heather. My dad's in the next bed to Geoff.’

  ‘Heather Hunter. A film star name to go with your film star looks.’

  She blinked. ‘How do you know my name?’

  Rick gave her the grown up version of Jamie’s grin, making her knees go weak.

  ‘I'm a trained observer. And your dad's got a big sign by his bed saying JOHN HUNTER. I suppose I just guessed the rest.’

  ‘You must be a trained sneaky observer. I never noticed you looking our way.’

  ‘Does that mean you kept sneaking looks our way too?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I've got a massive crush on Jamie. I'm fighting it as hard as I can, but it might be a losing battle.’

  ‘Ouch.’ Tiny lines scrunched up by Rick's eyes as he pretended to wince. ‘I suppose I deserved that.’ Then, grinning again: ‘Do you want me to fix you up a date with him?’

  ‘No thanks. He's spoken for. You'll have to find me someone who isn't.’

  ‘Someone who’s dangerously attractive, you mean?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said automatically, ‘why not?’

  ‘All right, then. I have to give the youngster a lift home and then I'm all yours.’

  That was nice and easy, Heather thought. Then she frowned as she remembered her social diary.

  Drat! Why do there always have to be obstacles?

  ‘I appreciate the offer,’ she said reluctantly. ‘But I can’t do tonight. I'm already due to meet someone.’ There was a brief hesitation before her next two-footed lunge. Knickers to playing hard to get. She’d play it wrong if she tried that, anyway. ‘I can probably do tomorrow, after Visiting.’

  ‘Only probably?’

  ‘Make it definitely. I’ll reshuffle my other commitments in the morning.’

  ‘I’m honoured.’

  ‘Glad to hear it. I wouldn’t dream of reshuffling if you weren’t so heroically defending our country.’

  ‘Now I really am honoured.’

  ‘Good. Shall we go straight from here? Or will you be taxi-driving Jamie first?’

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, and genuinely looked it. ‘It’s tonight or not anytime soon. I have to be back at base for eighteen hundred tomorrow.’

  ‘Don't they let you out after dark?’ Heather was surprised by the depth of her disappointment.

  ‘Yeah, but I'll be a long way away at the end of Visiting.’ He seemed to be calculating in his head. ‘It would be midnight before I could get here. And I would more or less have to turn straight round and go back again. I'm away overseas early on Friday.’

  They stared at each other a moment. Heather hadn’t a clue where “base” was, but could tell it was a long way away. She could also tell Rick was seriously considering his chances of coming back to see her.

  ‘Midnight’s a bit late to be going out,’ she said. ‘I suppose I could order takeaways. Entertain you at my place.’

  ‘That sounds good to me.’

  ‘Mmmm, it does to me too . . . apart from the going straight back bit. Can’t you get here any sooner?’

  ‘It’s a longish trip. I’d have to break speed limits to make it for midnight; unless I borrow a helicopter.’

  ‘Like royalty?’

  ‘Like very covertly,’ said Rick. ‘There’s been a clampdown on borrowing Chinooks . . . but I can’t think why.’

  ‘What would happen if you got caught?’

  ‘Nothing compared to what’ll happen if I blob on Friday morning.’

  They exchanged another lingering stare.

  ‘I can’t let you do anything silly on my behalf,’ s
he said eventually. ‘Not for one shared biryani.’

  ‘We could share a couple of hot Madras as well.’

  Heather couldn’t stop herself smiling. ‘I’m sure we could share all sorts. But I’m not going to let you be court-martialled for just a few minutes. Besides, the parking’s terrible where I live. I struggle with slots for my Mini. You’d never be able to leave your Chinook without getting a ticket.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll listen to the voice of reason for once. So what are you doing later on tonight?’

  ‘I’m afraid tonight’s date is on a promise. I’ll be with her until the small hours.’

  ‘Her?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Mr Perfect blinked at that: ‘Would that be as in . . . her?’

  ‘Don’t say you have a problem with that?’

  ‘Only by being jealous that she’s ahead of me in the queue.’

  ‘Correct answer.’ Heather’s smile widened. ‘Consider yourself now on a promise as well.’

  ‘Consider me determined to hold you to it.’

  ‘What about one night next week?’

  ‘I’m not going to be back in Blighty for quite a while.’

  ‘Would that be weeks rather than days?’

  ‘Months rather than weeks, worst luck. The Powers That Be don’t seem to want to keep me too long in the UK, for some strange reason.’

  Heather could feel her smile fading. The temptation to have Rick tonight was enormous. But she had promised to stay over at Nina's. And she never broke sex-promises. Not ever.

  ‘That is a shame,’ she said. ‘I think we would have had fun. Maybe our paths will cross again, God willing and all that.’

  She set off to leave. This time he was the one not having it.

  ‘Not so fast. At least give me your phone number.’

  ‘What? So you can pass it around all the squaddies?’

  ‘Do I look like a squaddie? And do you think I'd waste your number on a bunch of spotty kids?’

  He didn't look like a squaddie; he looked very grown up. He also looked very sincere.

  ‘Okay,’ she said, her heart starting to beat as though she was about to commit to something lots more major. And her tummy felt funny. Vic’s old butterflies, she thought, the sexily fluttering ones; the ones with a lousy sense of timing.

  They swapped numbers then stood uncertainly, looking at each other.

  ‘I'd better get back grovelling to Geoff,’ he said finally.

  ‘And I better get off to my unbreakable date. Er . . . what happens now? Should I expect a call from Afghanistan sometime?’

  ‘Not from Afghanistan. I'm headed somewhere else.’

  ‘Go on, tell me where.’

  ‘I can't say. If I told you, I'd have to take you along, so word doesn't get out.’

  ‘That sounds exciting. Like some kinky kidnapping game. Would you have to chain me up by day and ravish me at night?’

  ‘Don’t tempt me. Much more and I might give it a go.’

  She laughed with him, sharing the joke . . . wondering if it really was a joke. And wondering why she so badly wanted him to ravish her. Chained or not.

  ‘When are you back?’

  ‘It will be early in November. And you are going to be the first person I ring.’

  ‘But you will call before then?’

  ‘Yes. I'll call you before I leave, if that's okay.’

  ‘It’s very okay,’ she said. ‘Make it tomorrow night, pretty late on, when you won’t be disturbed. Let’s say around midnight. I’ll be alone and ready for you.’

  ‘That sounds good to me. Will I get to find out what happens on one of your promises?’

  Heather grinned. ‘You’ll find out in the finest detail, Rick. Be prepared to blush.’

  *****

  ‘Okay,' said Harry. 'Give me the full update.'

  Jonjo had a cautious look around, satisfying himself it was safe to talk. The Noble Comb was not the sort of place they would normally be in; that was why they were there. Nobody they knew would ever set foot in a busy, kiddie-friendly pub like this.

  ‘As we already know,' he began, 'our friend's a nutter. He comes out with all sorts, although I don't believe everything he tells me.'

  ‘Are we wasting our time?'

  ‘No, we are definitely not. Most of what he says is crap, but there are things we can use.'

  ‘Go on then, summarize.'

  ‘Our friend has taken to dealing like a duck to water. According to him he has, anyway. He thinks he's taking over the world, never mind half Bingley, so that bit’s going to plan. When I asked if he needed any back-up he got all manly with me. He reckons he can handle it himself.'

  ‘The sort of way he handled Jacko?'

  ‘Yeah; like I said, he's a fucking nutter. He even told me to keep away from his patch.'

  Harry's eyes gleamed as he grinned, stretching the scar on his cheek. 'Bet you wanted to twat him.'

  ‘I restrained myself.' Jonjo returned his boss’ grin. 'Fuck knows how. Anyway, he can’t be totally thick, because he backed off after that; gave me some names. He doesn't want us bothering the dealers, but he would be delighted if we whacked a few smugglers.'

  ‘Do you mean Dwyer’s booze smugglers? Why would we do that?'

  ‘I don't know. Maybe he thinks we’d do it because they're there, like Mount Everest.'

  ‘We’re wasting our time.'

  ‘No, listen. I've had someone checking that other name he gave me. That guy from Burnley.'

  ‘Do you mean Dwyer's cracksman?'

  ‘Yeah,' Jonjo had another cautious look around. Despite them being in the quietest corner there was still a chance they would be overheard. So far so good, though. 'We've found him. He is what our friend says he is. And his gaffer is bum-chums with Dwyer. It all ties in.'

  ‘I don't suppose you can put him in Joey's warehouse?'

  ‘Not without getting hold of someone else who was there. And there could only be one end to that conversation, couldn't there?'

  ‘True. And we're no more ready for that than we are for whacking dozens of smugglers.'

  ‘For what it's worth,' said Jonjo, 'I'm convinced he was there. And he's piss-easy to follow. I've got his routine already.'

  ‘Not sure how much I blame the hired help.'

  ‘It would shock Dwyer if something happened to the bastard, even after all this time.'

  ‘Leave it with me, I need to consider. Is there anything else?'

  ‘Remember Dwyer's nick-to-order?'

  ‘How could I ever forget?'

  ‘He does it with cars too.'

  ‘What, clapped-out heaps for that car lot of his?'

  No, he targets better class stuff, including top of the range. He's hooked up with some other outfit who sell them on. I'm not sure where they’re based. They’re from Leeds, probably, or maybe Manchester. He’s always done business with Mancs.'

  ‘And . . .'

  ‘Our friend reckons Dwyer's scared of these guys, whoever they are. On the face of it, they re-spray, switch to left-hand drive and export. Bog standard stuff. But Dwyer won't let anyone else anywhere near.'

  ‘What are you suggesting?'

  I don't know; not yet. But Dwyer obviously doesn't want to upset these guys. Maybe we can stir it up somehow? If we upset them enough and they're that scary, they might even top him.'

  ‘That'd be a shame,' said Harry, laughing. 'I always wanted to be the one who did that.'

  *****

  As Heather walked to her car she tried to work out exactly why she was excited. Physically, Rick ticked all the right boxes and he was charming enough, without doubt. If it hadn't been for Nina she would definitely have taken him to bed, broken her duck with absolutely new willies . . .

  But so what? He may seem to be capable of slaking her lust for a while, but that certainly didn't mean they had anything in common. And face it: he was the guy who hadn't turned up for his own dad's funeral; that hardly made him reliable. He wasn’t going to be the one
begetting Dad’s grandchildren.