‘Your security cameras, have they not picked anything up?’ asked Madeleine.
‘Not since Anika delivered that framed picture in a hoody and dark clothing,’ replied Felix.
‘Nothing else?’ asked Emma.
‘No, we’ve checked,’ he answered, looking regretful. He so wanted to put things right, for Emma as much as himself. Adamant she wasn’t to miss the gig, he said, ‘Listen, I’ll escort you tonight and make sure you get home safely.’
‘But… you could be recognised, and—’
‘Non. I will drive the pair of you to Lancaster and book a taxi for your return,’ cut in Madeleine.
‘But, Mum—’ Felix tried to reason, really not liking the idea of his mother in this big house alone.
‘No buts!’ Madeleine’s hand came up in objection. ‘I insist. You two,’ she pointed at Felix then Emma, ‘are to go outtogetherto enjoy yourselves,’ she finished resolutely.
Emma watched her and not for the first time admired the lady’s spirit. She was right. Why should Anika Genness ruin things? The band’s gig was a big deal to her and the rest of its members. If she let them down at such short notice, they’d never forgive her. Well, perhaps they would if they knew an obsessive lunatic was after her; but this was theirGig,the final one of the year. There was no way she could gib out. No, the show must go on, she concluded.
‘You’re absolutely right, Madeleine, it’s business as usual,’ Emma stated, shoulders back.
Felix looked at her, approving her attitude. My God, she was beautiful when she was angry.
‘That’s my girl,’ smiled Madeleine, then turned to Felix, ‘and you, my boy, are to go out tonight and… how do you say, let your hair down.’ She nodded with conviction.
Bunty was at Perry’s cottage. They too were going to see Emma’s band at Red Rose Brewery that evening. Perry couldn’t wait to see his daughter perform; he’d so missed hearing her sing. Bunty smiled at his attire. A red silk waistcoat over a collarless shirt, complete with a neckerchief. He certainly had it. For a man of his years, Perry still cut quite a dash.
‘I know.’ He winked, noticing her admiring glance.
‘Know what?’ said Bunty.
‘How good I look,’ he replied, then broke into laughter.
‘And don’t you know it,’ replied Bunty, raising an eyebrow.
‘But nowhere as good as you,’ he said, then put an arm round her waist and kissed her cheek. True, Bunty did look great in her long denim dress and navy jacket. Together they made a very stylish older couple.
The sound of a horn outside interrupted them.
‘Come on, the taxi’s here,’ Perry ushered Bunty to the door. He fully intended to enjoy tonight’s gig and had no intention of driving or letting Bunty either. They, in his own words, were going to ‘get plastered’.
Alcohol was the last thing on Jasmine’s mind. A nauseous sensation kept drifting in and out of her stomach. Whilst she and Robin had made plans to go to the gig, her body really didn’t feel up to it. She felt tired, worn out. Although Jasmine had been working hard to meet various deadlines, this was alien to her. She was used to tight timetables and couldn’t fathom why the recent schedule had affected her so badly. But it had. Jasmine was washed out and had now started with a migraine.
‘Sorry, Robin, I don’t think I’ll make tonight,’ she said, reaching for the paracetamol tablets in the kitchen cupboard. She ran a glass of cold water and downed them. Robin looked at her pale white face and frowned.
‘You look awful, Jas,’ he said in concern.
‘Thanks.’ She gave a faint smile.
Robin got up and peered closely at her. ‘I think you should ring the doctor in the morning,’ he told her.
‘No, I’m just tired, that’s all,’ she dismissed.
‘Well, come on then, I’m tucking you into bed. You need sleep,’ Robin replied assertively.
Jasmine didn’t refuse. She didn’t have the energy. The thought of a nice, warm, comfy bed was too tempting. It wasn’t long before Robin was pulling up her bedcovers, after installing a hot-water bottle.
‘Now sleep.’ He bent down to kiss her on the lips. Jasmine closed her eyes and within minutes fell into a deep slumber. Robin hovered by the doorway, not wanting to leave her. He was worried. He suspected something was off kilter with Jasmine the other day when, even though she’d been pleased he’d brought them a lovely lunch and prosecco to her studio, she’d hardly touched it. He noticed her wince at the first sip of drink, which was far from her usual reaction. He remembered how Jasmine had thrown it back in London, enjoying every minute of the fizz he’d provided at their hotel, on The London Eye, then at dinner. He also recalled their unrestrained lovemaking… so wanton he’d not always been as careful as he should. A startling thought unexpectedly hit him hard.
His eyes fixed on Jasmine, softly breathing, her chest gently rising and falling. Then his eyes slid further down to her abdomen and he gulped.
