‘Well, I’m sorry you had to be there to hear it. It’s never happened before.’
‘You have nothing to be sorry for. Gail, I’ve been exactly where you are now. It was only after I left my husband when I truly understood how emotionally abusive he was …’
Gail shook her head. ‘You’ve got it wrong. Anthony isn’t like that. I’m the problem, not him. He’s a good man, a good father …’
‘No matter how subtly he plays it, I’ve heard the condescending way he speaks to you. He makes it sound like whatever’s going on between you is all your fault. I know how he operates because it’s what Daniel did to me—’
‘Please, stop,’ Gail interrupted. ‘Just because your marriage failed doesn’t mean I’ll allow mine to do the same.’
There was an animosity in Gail’s words that Sinéad hadn’t heard before. She glanced at Gail’s hands. Her nails were bitten down to the quick and the skin around them was mottled. Still, Sinéad pressed on.
‘You can’t change someone who doesn’t want to change. Think of Taylor. Do you want her to be raised by a bully?’ Gail’s cheeks reddened. ‘Please take it from somebody who knows. A friend once told me there was a life to be had away from my husband, and I found it. You need to find yours away from Anthony or he will grind you down to nothing.’
As Gail nodded slowly, Sinéad felt a wave of relief washing over her. Perhaps she had succeeded where so many of her former friends had failed. Maybe Gail needed someone like Sinéad to spell it out to her.
Gail raked her hand through her curls and turned to face Sinéad as she stood up and released the brake from the pushchair. ‘I will tell you this one time only. Keep your fucking nose out of my business and stay away from me.’
Chapter 43
FLICK, ALDEBURGH, SUFFOLK
As pre-dusk fell, Flick couldn’t wipe the grin from her face as she made her way home from Elijah’s. She thought back to the programme and how she had voluntarily agreed to a contraceptive implant that made it impossible to fall pregnant. It was also supposed to diminish her sexual desires. However, the latter had failed at the first hurdle. For much of the afternoon and early evening, her urges had spilled out across Elijah’s studio floor along with her clothes.
She was relieved the B&B was empty on her return as she wasn’t ready for Grace’s interrogation. Flick chose to sit outside on the patio, the final moments of the sun’s rays warming her smiling lips as music played on the radio. The feeling of not having a care in the world lasted for approximately two minutes before her calm was shattered by the news headlines.
‘A top-ranking government adviser has been killed in a boating accident,’ the newsreader began. ‘Edward Karczewski’s body was discovered washed up on the shore of Switzerland’s Petit Lac by locals in the early hours of this morning. Mr Karczewski, known to friends as Ted, was reported missing after fishermen found his speedboat empty and drifting. Investigators are not treating his death as suspicious.’
Flick froze; the only part of her to move was the frantic pounding of her heart. She hurried to the radio but failed to find any other news channels that repeated the story. Conflicted, she grabbed Grace’s tablet from the work surface. Use of devices was strictly against the rules but the exceptional circumstances justified her trawling the internet for more details. Moving as quickly as possible to leave a minimal online presence, she located a website featuring video footage of Karczewski’s body being zipped up inside in a black body bag and carried into a waiting ambulance.
She continued her search until she stumbled across amateur footage taken from an alternative angle, a close-up of his face and head. It was definitely her handler. But it was his crown that caught her attention. The ultra-high-definition footage made it possible to zoom in closer to a parting of his wet hair. It revealed a solitary wound to his skull.
Flick desperately wanted to give its positioning the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps it was an injury resulting from Karczewski’s body hitting rocks before washing up ashore. But it was too much of a coincidence for the man who ran the programme to have died of an injury in exactly the same position where the Minders’ data had been implanted.
She was convinced it was a message. If Karczewski could be compromised, then so could she.
Chapter 44
CHARLIE, MANCHESTER
‘The taxi’s here,’ shouted Milo from the front door of his house.
Behind him, his friends slipped on their coats and made their way towards the waiting vehicle.
‘Vicky’s messaged to say they’ll meet us in town for a quick one before they go home,’ said Andrew, holding his phone to his ear and recounting a voice note to Charlie. ‘Apparently Alix is “very much looking forward to seeing you again”. How many dates will this be?’
‘I’m not counting,’ Charlie replied. But he was. It would be the third time they had seen one another alone since their double date with Andrew and Vicky. Their first date had been at the Manchester Art Gallery, taking in an installation inspired by world religions. It fascinated Alix, but Charlie, less so.
‘Do you believe in God?’ she had asked him and he shook his head. ‘Are you atheist or agnostic?’
‘I’m not sure I know what the difference is,’ he replied.
‘Atheism is about what you don’t believe and being an agnostic is about what you don’t know.’
‘Then neither,’ he replied, a little too quickly. But inside his head he knew a truth about deities, religions and belief systems and couldn’t share it with anyone.
‘What do you believe in then?’ Alix pursued.
Charlie thought on his feet. ‘I believe in the inherent good in people, I believe in hoping that things will get better for our fractured world, I believe you don’t need a shared piece of DNA to fall in love with someone … and of course, I believe in Father Christmas.’ He put the conversation to bed with a kiss.
