Countdown to Terror

Chapter 24

It was Wednesday, and Jenny was at her lady improver’s class at Forest View Golf Club. There were only six that morning, and the pro Billy Wills was able to give each plenty of time. Her play around the green had come on in leaps and bounds since purchasing the lob wedge. The major problem now was a slice to the right, the scourge of many golfers, caused mostly by an out to in-swing. Billy was in full flow, enjoying the limelight surrounded by six adoring females hanging on his every word.

‘Reduce the back swing, keep the right arm in, make sure you follow through and don’t move your head,’ he prattled.

Jenny wasn’t sure if was a lecture or a sermon, but even when she remembered, it never seemed to work. Her drives off the tee were all a bit of a lottery, and the video she had been given basically confirmed it was practice, practice and more practice that was required. The golf joke ascribed to an old pro as to why he was so good came to mind: I’m just lucky, I guess, but the more I practise the luckier I get.

Coffee and biscuits were included in the cost of the lesson, and she chatted aimlessly with two other girls, Heidi and Sarah, dressed in matching golf gear from Golfino of Wilmslow. They always had plenty of time for golf and didn’t seem to work. Perhaps they were WAGs.

Heidi was nosey, ‘Jenny, what’s happened to that nice fella who used to coach you a bit? I’ve not seen him around for a while. I thought you and he seemed to be getting on, a bit old-fashioned but such a gentleman.’

‘Oh, he’s had a lot of business to attend these last few weeks, but I’m sure he’ll be back soon, and you know I’ll keep you up to date.’

Heidi got the message and the conversation turned to Harvey Nichols’s Manchester half-price sale.

Jenny had taken the day off work, and in the afternoon she was due to see Samir’s parents again. Driving back to Wilmslow, she was apprehensive about her reception. As far as she knew, there had been no news about Samir, which was now appearing strange after all the time that had elapsed. The murder of Sulamain, Mansoor’s brother, would have further added to their tragedy.

After showering, she changed out of her golf outfit, opting for jeans and a jumper. Not feeling hungry after the coffee and biscuits at the golf club, she skipped lunch and munched on a banana whilst driving over to the Khan house in Wilmslow.

Aisha opened the door and ushered her inside. Although smartly dressed in a traditional sari, she looked tired and wan. Going into the lounge, Mansoor had obviously not worked that morning dressed as he was, wearing a checked shirt, jeans and loafers. Touching cheeks, she could smell whisky. A little early, she determined.

Where to begin? Jenny thought, but fortunately Mansoor was the first to speak.

‘Do you have any news for us?’ he enquired.

‘No, I’m afraid not,’ Jenny responded. ‘I’m very sorry to hear about your brother Sulamain.’

Aisha began to wail, ‘First Samir is missing; now Sulamain has been murdered. What is the world coming to?’