Countdown to Terror

Chapter Six

Chapter 6

 

 

It was Saturday 28th April and early evening. The Gent backed the green Saab out of the barn and enjoyed the few miles’ drive in the pale sunshine to Amelia’s cottage. She made drinks: Bombay Sapphire gin and tonic with ice and lime. She looked stunning in an azure-blue trouser suit over a pure white vest-top, and was quick to comment on his sartorial choice of a light beige Ted Baker suit with a maroon shirt worn open without a tie. They would look the part at Bannerman’s.

After enquiring about her sister – his ex – and receiving no untoward reply or significant update about her own personal life, she broached the purpose of their venture that evening.

‘So you’ve given me some info about this female golfing friend, but not why we need to go out clubbing and pretending to be an item. You don’t normally go out of your way to make your dates jealous; you just generally mess up, period.’

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence,’ he countered. ‘Actually, it’s her boyfriend I’m trying to suss out. She thinks he is behaving strangely and could be deep into something he can’t get out of.’

‘Well, why do you have to get involved anyway?’ Amelia shot back. ‘Unless of course you do really fancy her, it’s about time you found a girlfriend; you can’t sulk forever.’

‘Yes, yes, I know, you’re right, but the purpose tonight is to figure it out if she is letting her mind run away or if he really is up to something dodgy, in which case I would have to have a chat with someone else.’

Amelia responded with a withering look. ‘Someone else... you can be obtuse sometimes. It’s no wonder Mary divorced you.’

Picking up his jacket, he ended the conversation. ‘I just need to delve a little into his personality, that’s all. Let’s go, shall we?’

The drive over to Alderley Edge was uneventful, and they returned to their normal composure with the odd bout of good-humored banter. The car park was completely full when they arrived, with bouncers waving people away before they could even try to enter. Driving over the bridge into the village proper, they tried the first car park serving a supermarket and row of other retail outlets. That was also full. Eventually they found a place in a long-stay car park further up in the village.

Bannerman’s was heaving with the usual sprinkling of footballers and television celebrities. The music for the night was all Bee Gees, dedicated to Robin Gibb who had sadly died a few days earlier from cancer. Jenny was nowhere to be seen, so after purchasing drinks they fought their way through the scrum at the bar to a quieter corner where Amelia had a spotted a friend in a group of half a dozen revellers. The mood was jovial, and he soon became immersed in a conversation with Tim, a junior newsreader with the BBC at their new centre at Media City on Salford Quays, and Charlotte, a budding partner in a Manchester firm of chartered accountants. He kept up with the conversation through topics ranging from the Euro collapse and the sex scandals of Berlusconi, but could only nod sagely when the discussion drifted into which country would lose its triple A-rated Moody credit rating status.