getting people to move, just a bit, Tim unfolded his arms.
“All right. I’ll do it. And you promise me you’ll keep talking to people, asking questions. If not for my bloody sake — then Dinah’s.”
Jack looked at Sarah. This was a decision for the two of them. She gave Jack a small nod.
“You got it.”
And with that, Bell followed Alan to his patrol car just as the fire engine did a tricky three-point turn and then headed slowly back down the street, siren off, fire ended.
Then Jack said …
“Guess you’d best get back for Chloe — didn’t you say she was home from London today?”
“God, yes — nearly forgot.”
“We’ll talk … plan later. Meanwhile, I need to take Riley for a long walk and do some thinking.”
“Great. Later then.”
And Sarah turned and walked down the still quiet street, the hot afternoon air relentless, so close and humid …
Not unlike the fire that exploded in front of Bell’s house.
A warning. A threat.
With — Sarah thought for sure — more to come.
11. The Conductor
It was lunchtime the next day before Sarah finally had time to meet Rik Chase.
She’d stayed up late with Chloe who had all kind of tales of her week staying with her father in London. Trips to the theatre, cinema, ballet, a “totally amazing” launch party at the Royal Opera House, lunch at The Ivy “Mum, you’ll never believe who was on the next table!”
Sarah had to work hard to hide her frustration that her ex-husband lived a life of conspicuous expense while she, Chloe, and Daniel survived by careful budgeting and foregoing holidays abroad.
Chloe had clearly been dazzled by that London life — just as Sarah had been when she’d left Cherringham to find her fortune years ago. And with a pang, Sarah realized that Chloe herself would be gone in just a few years’ time — to university, to work, to her own life as an adult …
So — late to bed, and a late start at the office: then a morning crammed with deadlines, phone calls, rushed meetings, and finally a little genuine design work at her screen.
And now, after a hurried sandwich, here she was in Cherringham’s only real “posh” street — Bradwell Crescent — looking for Rik Chase’s house.
Only a dozen houses sat tucked away in the crescent, which curved around a shared garden. Sarah walked slowly along the imposing line of tall Georgian houses, looking for number eight. She could only dream of living here.
If Cherringham had a pyramid, this was the top of it.
The imposing houses were identical and, through the windows, Sarah could see that though each interior might be decorated in a different style, the common denominator was wealth.
She climbed the steps to number eight and tapped the black lion’s-head knocker against the door.
It swung open immediately, surprising her. A man stood there, tall, dark hair, tanned. He grinned at her:
“Hi — Sarah?”
“Mr Chase?” said Sarah, taken aback.
“Rik — please,” he said, gesturing to her to enter. A big smile. “Come on in.”
She went through and stood in the hall while he shut the door. Then as he passed close by her she caught a note of expensive aftershave she recognized.
No shortage of money here, she thought. Or style …
“This way,” he said, pacing away from her down a corridor towards the back of the house. “Fancy a coffee? Just made one.”
“Thanks,” she said, and followed him.
Rik wasn’t what she’d imagined at all.
What she’d expected was a dusty old music teacher.
What she’d got was Italian film star in tailored white shirt, black skinny jeans, and loafers …
The corridor opened into a bright modern kitchen, the width of the house, with a big glass extension giving out onto a raised terrace and walled garden.
While Rik set off an espresso machine in the kitchen area, Sarah looked around the room.
Big bright canvases filled the walls, while three brown leather sofas surrounded a glass coffee table. And near the
“All right. I’ll do it. And you promise me you’ll keep talking to people, asking questions. If not for my bloody sake — then Dinah’s.”
Jack looked at Sarah. This was a decision for the two of them. She gave Jack a small nod.
“You got it.”
And with that, Bell followed Alan to his patrol car just as the fire engine did a tricky three-point turn and then headed slowly back down the street, siren off, fire ended.
Then Jack said …
“Guess you’d best get back for Chloe — didn’t you say she was home from London today?”
“God, yes — nearly forgot.”
“We’ll talk … plan later. Meanwhile, I need to take Riley for a long walk and do some thinking.”
“Great. Later then.”
And Sarah turned and walked down the still quiet street, the hot afternoon air relentless, so close and humid …
Not unlike the fire that exploded in front of Bell’s house.
A warning. A threat.
With — Sarah thought for sure — more to come.
11. The Conductor
It was lunchtime the next day before Sarah finally had time to meet Rik Chase.
She’d stayed up late with Chloe who had all kind of tales of her week staying with her father in London. Trips to the theatre, cinema, ballet, a “totally amazing” launch party at the Royal Opera House, lunch at The Ivy “Mum, you’ll never believe who was on the next table!”
Sarah had to work hard to hide her frustration that her ex-husband lived a life of conspicuous expense while she, Chloe, and Daniel survived by careful budgeting and foregoing holidays abroad.
Chloe had clearly been dazzled by that London life — just as Sarah had been when she’d left Cherringham to find her fortune years ago. And with a pang, Sarah realized that Chloe herself would be gone in just a few years’ time — to university, to work, to her own life as an adult …
So — late to bed, and a late start at the office: then a morning crammed with deadlines, phone calls, rushed meetings, and finally a little genuine design work at her screen.
And now, after a hurried sandwich, here she was in Cherringham’s only real “posh” street — Bradwell Crescent — looking for Rik Chase’s house.
Only a dozen houses sat tucked away in the crescent, which curved around a shared garden. Sarah walked slowly along the imposing line of tall Georgian houses, looking for number eight. She could only dream of living here.
If Cherringham had a pyramid, this was the top of it.
The imposing houses were identical and, through the windows, Sarah could see that though each interior might be decorated in a different style, the common denominator was wealth.
She climbed the steps to number eight and tapped the black lion’s-head knocker against the door.
It swung open immediately, surprising her. A man stood there, tall, dark hair, tanned. He grinned at her:
“Hi — Sarah?”
“Mr Chase?” said Sarah, taken aback.
“Rik — please,” he said, gesturing to her to enter. A big smile. “Come on in.”
She went through and stood in the hall while he shut the door. Then as he passed close by her she caught a note of expensive aftershave she recognized.
No shortage of money here, she thought. Or style …
“This way,” he said, pacing away from her down a corridor towards the back of the house. “Fancy a coffee? Just made one.”
“Thanks,” she said, and followed him.
Rik wasn’t what she’d imagined at all.
What she’d expected was a dusty old music teacher.
What she’d got was Italian film star in tailored white shirt, black skinny jeans, and loafers …
The corridor opened into a bright modern kitchen, the width of the house, with a big glass extension giving out onto a raised terrace and walled garden.
While Rik set off an espresso machine in the kitchen area, Sarah looked around the room.
Big bright canvases filled the walls, while three brown leather sofas surrounded a glass coffee table. And near the
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