A Bitter Feast(73)

Kerry had come to respect Gemma’s professionalism and instincts on the job, and often wished she had her on her own team. So when Gemma had given her a brief rundown of the events in Lower Slaughter, Kerry said, “Trust you to run smack into one, if not two, possible murders. So what can I do for you?” She’d jotted down Gemma’s requests and said she’d get back to her as soon as she could.

Now, she studied her notes and did a quick Internet search. Colm Finlay, the restaurateur, would have to wait until the morning, as she could find only a corporate contact number. But she might be able to work in taking a look at the flat in Chelsea that afternoon while she was shopping for her daughter’s birthday.





Chapter Twenty

September 2007

On a night in the first week in September, Viv checked her mobile at the end of service and found she’d missed half a dozen calls from her dad. That was unnerving, but worse, there were no messages. She ran up the back stairs and out into Margretta Terrace in her whites, her heart pounding. Alone in the street, she pressed her dad’s number. When he answered, his usually hearty voice was almost unrecognizable.

“Dad? What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“It’s your—” He broke off, and she thought she heard him choke back a sob before he said, “Darling, it’s your mum. She went into hospital yesterday. A cut on her knee had got infected. By the time I got her to agree to see the GP, they said it had gone septic and that she needed an emergency operation—”

“What? Why didn’t you call me?”

“It all happened so fast, love. They said she just needed to stay in hospital for a couple of days, for the antibiotics, and we didn’t see any reason to worry you.” Her father made that small choking sound again. “But she’s got worse. They say the first drugs aren’t working. They can’t get the infection under control.”

It was a moment before Viv could gather enough breath to say, “What hospital, Dad? Where is she?”

“Redditch. The Alexandra.”

“Is she—” Viv swallowed hard. “How bad is it, Dad?”

“They’re trying a new round of antibiotics. But—they say it could be touch and go. She—she’s asking for you. Can you come, Viv?”

“Of course. Of course I’ll come.” Viv tried to work out the logistics. It was already almost eleven—she’d have to manage with what she had in her locker. “I can get the train to Birmingham and from there to Redditch, but it’ll be a god-awful hour of the morning before I get in.”

“That’s fine. Not going anywhere,” her dad said, and she could hear the effort he put into that bit of humor.

“What about Adam?” Her younger brother was still at university in Bristol.

“He’s borrowing a car from a friend. He should be here by breakfast.”

“Okay, I’ll ring you from the station.” Pausing, she tried to steady her voice. “Dad, I love you. Tell Mum, too, okay? And tell her she’s going to be fine.” She rang off before she completely lost it. Scrubbing at her wet cheeks with her apron, she checked the train times before she went back down to the kitchen. If she hurried, she could just make the 22:57, which, with a change in Birmingham, would get her into Redditch at 6:41 in the morning.

The crew was almost through with the scrub down. Fergus, who was bent over cleaning the gas rings, frowned as he looked up at her. “Where have you been? We’re almost done here.” Nothing was more reviled in the kitchen than slacking off on your part of the cleanup.

As Viv saw the expectant faces turn towards her, no doubt looking forward to watching a bollocking, she realized she couldn’t get through this in front of the whole crew. “Fergus. Can I have a word? In your office?”

“Can’t it wait until we’ve finished here?”

“No.”

For the first time, he seemed to realize something was wrong. “Okay.” Handing his scrub rag to John, he said, “Finish this for me, will you, mate?” and followed Viv into the tiny office cubicle. “What is it?” he asked when he’d closed the door.

“My mum. She’s really ill. I have to go.”

“What do you mean, go?” He seemed perplexed. “We were going to work on the duck liver parfait after service.”

“No. I mean I have to go to Redditch. Tonight. She’s in hospital there.”

Fergus still looked blank. “But you can’t. We’re rolling out the crispy duck leg on the menu tomorrow. I need you here.”

“Fergus, it’s my mum.” She wanted to shake him. “Don’t you understand? She might—” Viv couldn’t say it. She shook her head. “Ibby can take over my station. He’ll be fine. My mum needs me.”

“I need you,” Fergus said, but his face had lost its impatient tightness. He reached out, cupping her cheek with a moth-light touch, something he only did when they were alone.

“Ring me when you get there, all right?” he said, but she had seen the distance in his eyes.

Melody sank down on the front step. She was too shocked even to cry. What had just happened? Had Andy really broken up with her? Her little blue car was parked to the side of the garage, and for a moment she thought about going after him. She could catch him before he reached the village. But what could she say that she hadn’t already said? And she couldn’t face his rejection again.