‘Bloody hell,’ said Henry.
‘Yeah, he was in a real state — and so was Charlotte.’
‘I can imagine. . yet she came riding?’
‘I thought it best. She enjoys it and it stops her dwelling on it for a while.’
‘She did look unhappy,’ Henry recalled.
‘She was — is — but I know the other girls will drag her out of it.’ Tara pulled a packet of cigarettes out of her pocket and offered one to Henry, who shook his head. Smoking was one of the few bad habits he did not have. She lit one and took a deep drag, exhaling the lungful of smoke with obvious relief. Henry watched her smoke. ‘It’s the third horse we’ve had mutilated.’
‘All in the stables overnight?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s your security like?’
‘Good. At least I thought so.’
‘Do you have staff at the stables?’
‘Yeah — but not on site.’
Henry suggested, ‘Have you upset anyone recently?’
‘Not that I know of.’ She shrugged and smoked some more. ‘I’ll pay you if you come and investigate for us. A grand up front, even if all you do is come along and ask a few pertinent questions of different people. Then, if you stay longer charge me whatever you want to charge. I need to get this sorted and the local cops or our own security people don’t seem interested or capable.’
‘Your own security people?’
‘Mmm. . tossers.’
‘What do you mean, your own security people?’
‘My husband’s businesses need security on the sites he owns. We use them for the stables, too.’
‘What does your husband do?’
‘Mainly he’s a building contractor. Has other interests, too.’ She looked unimpressed as she spoke. ‘Haulage, import and export, all sorts of boring crap, building-site clearance. It’s the building sites that need security to stop pilfering.’
‘Who is your husband?’
‘John Lloyd Wickson.’
Now things made more sense to Henry. Pieces were slotting into place. He did not know Tara Wickson, but knew of John Lloyd Wickson, certainly by reputation.
Suddenly, interrupting his thoughts, came a burst of laughter as the three girls, Kelly, Charlotte and Leanne, appeared from the stables. They were red-faced, breathless and happy.
Quickly, Tara said, ‘If you come along and take a look at things, the payment will be discreet. Nothing official. Cash in hand. A grand, minimum.’
‘Dad! Dad!’ Leanne shouted, running towards him. ‘What about McDonald’s. . please, please, pleeeease!’ The other two girls were right behind her.
‘What about it, Mum?’ Charlotte said to Tara.
‘I don’t mind, but where’s Kelly’s mum or dad? I’ll take you all, then drop you all back off at home — if you don’t mind, Henry, and if Kelly’s parents don’t have a problem.’
‘Sure,’ said Henry. ‘No probs.’
‘Here’s my mum,’ Kelly exclaimed and ran off towards her. Charlotte and Leanne drifted away, chattering excitedly. Leaving Henry and Tara.
‘So. . will you do it?’ Her eyes pleaded with him and he went weak. Women did that to him: one look and he was hooked. He was a tart.
‘I really don’t think I can promise anything,’ he said with a new-found inner strength, which immediately wilted under Tara’s saddened gaze. ‘OK, OK, I’ll come and have a look round, but as much as I’d like a thousand pounds in my back pocket, I’ll have to forego any payment, thanks very much. It could make things a bit. . difficult,’ he said, screwing up his face. ‘These things are apt to get out.’
‘You are too honest for your own good,’ Tara smiled. She handed him a card with her phone numbers on it. ‘Mobile and home,’ she said, her eyes holding his again. She also described exactly where she lived and how to get to the house. ‘Maybe I could pay you in kind,’ she said mischievously.
So Henry was right after all. She did want to go to bed with him.
Two
‘Surprise visitors!’
Kate Christie sat up sharply and looked out of the front window. She and Henry were sat with trays on their laps, eating Sunday tea whilst watching the natural history segment on BBC2. This had become a ritual over the last couple of months. Just the two of them, no daughters. They always seemed to be out at friends. Henry had grown to appreciate this time with Kate — preparing the meal together, drinking wine as they did, then sitting side by side on the settee, usually in silence as they ate and watched nature in the raw. It was something he had never done before on a regular basis, chilling out with her, and he found himself to be slightly annoyed to be interrupted by the unexpected guests, whoever they were. He and Kate were actually divorced, but were back together and had been for some time. Things were going pretty well. One day soon, he would be asking her to re-marry him. He tore his eyes away from a pride of lions feasting on an unfortunate antelope.
From where Kate was sitting, she had the view out of the window to the drive at the front of the house. Henry had to crane his neck to see who had landed.
There was a massive four-wheel-drive monster in the driveway behind the family Mondeo.
Henry relaxed and smiled.
‘I wonder what they’re doing here,’ he said, rising and rushing with his tray into the kitchen, depositing it on a work surface, then striding down the hall to the front door, opening it just before the bell rang.
Two kids raced towards him, toddlers, and grabbed his legs affectionately, but with a force that nearly toppled him over. ‘Hey, hey,’ he warned, ‘steady on.’
Behind the children were the parents, the Donaldsons.
‘Well this is a turn-up for the books,’ Henry beamed.
‘In the area, just passing, thought we’d call in and say hi,’ said the big American, Karl Donaldson. He extended his huge paw, grabbed Henry’s tiny one, shook it, dragged Henry to him and encircled him with a bear hug. Henry had no choice but to succumb until, ribs almost broken, he was freed. Henry turned to Karen. They embraced with less pressure and kissed.
‘You look really well, all of you,’ Henry said, appraising them, bending down to kiddie level and rubbing the heads of both little boys.
‘Henry! Invite them in,’ Kate’s voice ordered behind him.
‘Kate!’ shrieked Karen, shouldering Henry aside and hurtling towards her.
Henry shrugged at Donaldson. ‘Maybe we should swap partners,’ he suggested. ‘You and me together and those two together. Life would be much simpler.’
‘I don’t really want to sleep with you,’ Donaldson admitted.
‘Oh, OK,’ Henry said, feigning disappointment. ‘You’d better come in then.’
How the two men managed to pull it off, neither was sure, but after rustling up some grub for the uninvited foursome, Henry and Donaldson were allowed out to the pub.
They were given one hour maximum.
The pub was on the outer edge of the housing estate on which Henry lived. It was a modern, soulless sort of place which made big-bucks from serving up food that Henry described as ‘pre-packaged crap’. In truth, the food was not that bad and he and Kate and the girls had had occasional meals there. It was called the Tram and Tower, references to two of Blackpool’s many delights. It was divided into two sections, restaurant and bar. Without exception the bar was always quiet, even when the restaurant was heaving.
Henry and Donaldson sat opposite the entrance, giving themselves a good wide-angled view of the happenings in and around the bar. Henry glanced at Donaldson as he gazed around the room, then he himself looked around to see that each woman in the place was getting an eyeful, either slyly or obviously, of the big, bronzed, good-looking bastard sat next to him. Henry had often contemplated, in a very sexist way, that he could have had a fantastic life for himself just feasting off Donaldson’s cast-offs. Henry believed that the American was one of the few men who, truly, could have the choice of any woman he wanted. Henry hated him deeply because of this.