shot up as he lowered his voice. ‘Mafia?’
‘Sorry?’
‘They’ve hired you as a hitwoman and the letter is details of your mark.’
‘You watch far too many gangster films,’ Harri laughed.
‘My Uncle Jez says the Mafia has a base in Birmingham,’ Tom retorted. ‘It’s common knowledge.’
‘Oh, and your Uncle Jez is such a trusted authority on that kind of information, isn’t he? I mean, wasn’t it Uncle Jez who was convinced that the Ku Klux Klan were holding secret meetings in Ellingsgate last summer?’
Tom looked away. ‘He saw them meeting in that field.’
‘Hmm, yes, and when he called the police, what did they find?’
Tom’s greasy cheeks flushed scarlet. ‘Beekeepers,’ he muttered. ‘Exactly. Ellingsgate Beekeeping Society. So I don’t think we need to listen to your Uncle Jez, do we?’
‘So what is it you’re doing for a friend, then?’ Tom shot back grumpily.
Harri grimaced. ‘Something he might not thank me for.’
‘OK – interests. Um, travel, photography, dining out, cinema . . . Anything I’ve forgotten?’
‘Bugging people. Alex is particularly interested in that,’ Stella replied, emptying two sachets of sugar into her takeaway coffee cup.
Harri looked up from the form spread before her on the weathered wooden picnic table at which they both sat. ‘Be serious, Stel.’
Stella picked up the flimsy plastic stirrer and stirred her coffee with intense irritation. ‘I’m deadly serious. This is a bad idea. Alex is going to kill you,’ she added for the umpteenth time since Harri had first mentioned Viv’s Big Idea. This had become her mantra, destined to accompany every conversation.
‘You’re not helping, Stel.’
‘I wasn’t trying to. Can we talk about something else, please?’ Harri groaned and shoved the form back into her rucksack. ‘Fine. I’ll finish it later, when I won’t annoy anyone.’ She looked out across the country park at families enjoying the unseasonably mild March Saturday. Vale Edge Park was one of her favourite local places – a large area of woodland around a high sandstone hill about twenty minutes’ drive from Stone Yardley. Here she had spent most Sunday afternoons with her parents during childhood summers, riding bikes, having picnics and playing games. It was a popular destination for families, mountain bikers and dog-walkers, its trails offering something for everyone. Many of her first dates had taken place here; shyly holding hands by the lake or stealing kisses along the woodland paths through carpets of bluebells and bracken. In the early days, this had been the scene of countless laughter-filled walks with Rob, Harri pointing out wildflowers or birds and Rob identifying them with that confident, completely gorgeous smile of his.
In their more adventurous moments, Stella and Harri ventured here to walk up onto Vale Edge, before returning to the welcome retreat of the tiny log cabin that served as a refreshment kiosk. This afternoon, however, any thoughts of such exertions had been banished by Stella’s ‘urgent cake and caffeine craving’.
‘This chocolate cake is a- mazing , H. Are you sure you don’t want to try some?’
‘I wouldn’t dream of parting you from it,’ Harri replied, popping a piece of buttery flapjack into her mouth.
‘You know, I hoped you were going to say that.’
‘I thought as much.’ They exchanged smiles. ‘Look, Stel, I know this magazine column is a daft idea, but it might just work. Stranger things have happened.’
‘You honestly think it might bring Alex the woman of his dreams?’
Harri did her best to look convincing. ‘It might . . .’
‘I don’t know why you’re doing this if you aren’t one hundred per cent sure about it,’ Stella said, taking a long sip of coffee.
‘Because maybe Viv’s right that Alex needs help,’ Harri said, smoothing down a strand of red hair that the wind had worked loose from her ponytail. ‘I’d just like to see him
‘Sorry?’
‘They’ve hired you as a hitwoman and the letter is details of your mark.’
‘You watch far too many gangster films,’ Harri laughed.
‘My Uncle Jez says the Mafia has a base in Birmingham,’ Tom retorted. ‘It’s common knowledge.’
‘Oh, and your Uncle Jez is such a trusted authority on that kind of information, isn’t he? I mean, wasn’t it Uncle Jez who was convinced that the Ku Klux Klan were holding secret meetings in Ellingsgate last summer?’
Tom looked away. ‘He saw them meeting in that field.’
‘Hmm, yes, and when he called the police, what did they find?’
Tom’s greasy cheeks flushed scarlet. ‘Beekeepers,’ he muttered. ‘Exactly. Ellingsgate Beekeeping Society. So I don’t think we need to listen to your Uncle Jez, do we?’
‘So what is it you’re doing for a friend, then?’ Tom shot back grumpily.
Harri grimaced. ‘Something he might not thank me for.’
‘OK – interests. Um, travel, photography, dining out, cinema . . . Anything I’ve forgotten?’
‘Bugging people. Alex is particularly interested in that,’ Stella replied, emptying two sachets of sugar into her takeaway coffee cup.
Harri looked up from the form spread before her on the weathered wooden picnic table at which they both sat. ‘Be serious, Stel.’
Stella picked up the flimsy plastic stirrer and stirred her coffee with intense irritation. ‘I’m deadly serious. This is a bad idea. Alex is going to kill you,’ she added for the umpteenth time since Harri had first mentioned Viv’s Big Idea. This had become her mantra, destined to accompany every conversation.
‘You’re not helping, Stel.’
‘I wasn’t trying to. Can we talk about something else, please?’ Harri groaned and shoved the form back into her rucksack. ‘Fine. I’ll finish it later, when I won’t annoy anyone.’ She looked out across the country park at families enjoying the unseasonably mild March Saturday. Vale Edge Park was one of her favourite local places – a large area of woodland around a high sandstone hill about twenty minutes’ drive from Stone Yardley. Here she had spent most Sunday afternoons with her parents during childhood summers, riding bikes, having picnics and playing games. It was a popular destination for families, mountain bikers and dog-walkers, its trails offering something for everyone. Many of her first dates had taken place here; shyly holding hands by the lake or stealing kisses along the woodland paths through carpets of bluebells and bracken. In the early days, this had been the scene of countless laughter-filled walks with Rob, Harri pointing out wildflowers or birds and Rob identifying them with that confident, completely gorgeous smile of his.
In their more adventurous moments, Stella and Harri ventured here to walk up onto Vale Edge, before returning to the welcome retreat of the tiny log cabin that served as a refreshment kiosk. This afternoon, however, any thoughts of such exertions had been banished by Stella’s ‘urgent cake and caffeine craving’.
‘This chocolate cake is a- mazing , H. Are you sure you don’t want to try some?’
‘I wouldn’t dream of parting you from it,’ Harri replied, popping a piece of buttery flapjack into her mouth.
‘You know, I hoped you were going to say that.’
‘I thought as much.’ They exchanged smiles. ‘Look, Stel, I know this magazine column is a daft idea, but it might just work. Stranger things have happened.’
‘You honestly think it might bring Alex the woman of his dreams?’
Harri did her best to look convincing. ‘It might . . .’
‘I don’t know why you’re doing this if you aren’t one hundred per cent sure about it,’ Stella said, taking a long sip of coffee.
‘Because maybe Viv’s right that Alex needs help,’ Harri said, smoothing down a strand of red hair that the wind had worked loose from her ponytail. ‘I’d just like to see him
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