Forty-five
“Who was that man?” said the hospital receptionist, as a dark figure ran by the desk and out of sight.
“Goodness knows,” said her colleague sitting next to her. She was a volunteer worker who helped visitors find their way around the vast hospital complex.
“He looked in a hurry! Maybe he was late for meeting somebody. Hey, listen, there’s alarm bells ringing somewhere. Do you think it could be him?”
“I don’t remember him coming in, though he could have, while I went to the shop for tissues. I expect you were busy with someone else.”
They then had a conversation about security in general, and agreed that they should stay at their post, in case someone else tried to get out unseen. “Doesn’t matter however many measures are put in by the authorities, there’ll always be ways of getting in and out without being noticed,” said one.
“Like that man over there, walking straight past us! Hi! Come back here.”
She stood up and gestured to the man, who returned to the desk.
“So sorry, sir,” said the first receptionist. “My colleague obviously did not recognise you. Please carry on.”
“So what was that all about? I thought we agreed—”
“It was the new consultant, you dope! Don’t tell me you’ve never seen him before? He’s famous.”
“Not to me, he’s not. It would have been polite, at least, to check in with us at the desk.”
*
It was getting dark, and Justin walked round to the entrance to his flat, but then thought that before he went up, he should check there were no lingering telltale signs of the shrews’ occupancy. It had been dark when Betsy collected them. The shed key was on his ring, and he unlocked and looked around. He could see that much of it had been cleared. No signs of a cage or food. Betsy must have taken them all.
He looked around, and wondered what he could do with the space, now he had decided not to handle any more illegal animals. Derek had obviously taken what he wanted to keep, and stored it in the old pigsty at the bottom of the vegetable garden. And recently Josie had said Justin could do what he liked with the neglected patch. She had grown things there when she lived over the shop, but now had no spare time, and so it was not used.
He quite fancied growing a few things there. It would make him feel more rooted to something permanent, with a few gooseberry bushes and maybe cabbages and lettuces. It would be good exercise, too, digging over the plot, ready to do some planting.
He began to whistle, and went upstairs to the flat feeling much more cheerful. He would ask to borrow some gardening tools this afternoon and make a start.
As he unpacked all the things he had so recently taken away, he felt a fool. He really would like to go and have a word with Josie, but she had said that her mother had told her about his rudeness, and she wanted no more to do with him on a personal level. He must use his own entrance, and as long as he paid the rent on time, and kept no wild animals—or tame ones, for that matter—he could stay.
He dialled his mother’s mobile, and sat down in a comfortable chair. “Hi, Mother. How are you? And how’s Vera? Hope you’re not getting up to mischief, the pair of you. No, of course I’m not! I’m still in the flat. Planning to do some gardening soon. Yes, fine, thank you. Now you take care, and I’ll be up to see you as soon as possible.”
The kettle was boiling, and he made himself a cup of coffee. Then he unwrapped the sandwich he had bought in Tresham, and began to eat.
*
In town, Dot Nimmo came out of her house and locked the door. She was about to get into the car when she saw Betsy Brierley come out into the street. She looks a bit wild, thought Dot, and waited to see what would happen next. She enjoyed a good marital punch-up, as a viewer of course, and was pleased to see Ted Brierley follow Betsy along the pavement. He caught up with her after a few yards, and grabbed her arm. This was going to be good, thought Dot.
Ted pulled Betsy to a halt, and she turned on him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing!?” she shouted, slapping him round the face. He recoiled, and then went in again on the attack. But Betsy had had enough. “Get back indoors, and I’ll explain one more time!!” she shouted, and then turned to look at Dot. “And you can mind your own business, Dottie Nimmo!” she yelled. “There’s a thing or two I could teach you, you boring old fart!”
Dot roared with laughter. “Very good, Betsy,” she called. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. Come and have a cuppa with me when I get back. Shouldn’t be more than an hour.”