6.00pm Saturday 21st December
Jane sat stiffly in the pub alone, sipping an orange juice and checking the time. The others were late, which she couldn’t abide. It had been over a week since Dennis’s murder and the future of their jobs were still on the line. Understandably Mrs Wade, who was now the owner of the shop, hadn’t given much thought to what she wanted to do with the premises. Jane understood that she should be given time and space to grieve, but in the meantime a number of people were left in limbo not knowing whether they still had employment or not.
It had been Jane’s idea to call a meeting with her colleagues to discuss their predicament. She had also invited Marcus, the company accountant, along, hoping that he might be able to apply some gentle pressure on the Wade family. She suspected he was Dennis’s executor and that, therefore, he had the power to help.
Jane had not been able to reach Tilly, not for lack of trying, but had spoken to Marcus, Steven, Amber, Myleene and Aiden, all of whom had agreed a meeting to discuss their predicament was a good idea. The only thing Jane hadn’t been able to control was where they met. She’d suggested a coffee house but after receiving a number of emails suggesting a pub instead, she had given in and agreed to go to The Maypole pub close to Jesus Green. Jane had quietly noted that three of the employees were happy to meet to grumble about their jobs being on the line but had not bothered to get involved with the wreath she had organised earlier in the week. Some people could be so selfish.
The Maypole, which stood in a quiet corner of the city, was a local institution. It was frequented by students and locals alike and remained undiscovered by most of the tourists who visited the city. It was well loved but mostly as a result of the great Italian food it served and the vast choice of gins and ales. Jane wasn’t a big drinker and would have felt more at home in the coffee shop she had originally proposed.
She sat with her back facing the rest of the room and the other punters and watched out the window, waiting for her colleagues to arrive. The first to appear was Marcus, sauntering along the pavement trying to avoid the slush with his pointed leather shoes. Around his neck was a tightly woven, extremely expensive, cashmere scarf.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ Marcus said, kissing the air on either side of Jane’s cheeks, which was something she loathed, ‘traffic is awful. May I get you another drink?’ He looked at her half full glass of juice.
‘No thank you,’ she replied curtly and sat down to watch for the others.
Marcus headed for the bar where a young man who had a large handlebar moustache welcomed him.
‘A glass of Chablis.’ Marcus’ eyes widened, enjoying the handsome man in his vision.
By six twenty everyone had arrived and the six of them crowed round the small pub table.
Myleene and Amber nattered quietly among themselves, both occasionally glancing up at the attractive barman and giggling. Steven and Aiden chatted about the latest football scores while sipping their pints, leaving Jane and Marcus sitting in an uncomfortable silence.
Detesting the relaxed atmosphere around the table, Jane cleared her throat loudly until everyone fell silent. ‘Thank you for coming. I think we should discuss the reason we are all here.’ Her wild hair shone orange beneath the dimmed artificial light. ‘Would anyone like to start?’
Marcus twiddled with the edge of his scarf, looking around the table at the others who all remained quiet.
‘Very well.’ Jane was secretly pleased she had a platform. ‘I’ll begin.’ Worried about Aiden’s pint glass falling, despite the fact it was a good few inches from the edge, she pushed it into the centre of the table. ‘We have all been upset by the recent events at the bookshop.’
‘And everything that has happened since,’ Marcus gently reminded her, not wanting the brutal murder of Wendy Matlock to be brushed under the carpet.
‘Yes, and the rest.’
‘Yes,’ Myleene chirped up with her broad Cambridgeshire accident. ‘Did you all see that stuff on the Internet?’
The group shook their heads.
‘Well, today…’ She leant in, fiddling with the blond plait which fell across her shoulder. ‘I was on Facebook, you know just messaging friends and the like, and it came up on my news feed.’ Myleene’s big blue eyes looked like glass marbles, reflecting the street light from the lamp outside the window. ‘Some local paper guy got sent some human fingers in the post.’ She sat back triumphantly, looking almost titillated by the revelation.
‘My dear,’ Marcus said with a fake smile, ‘what has that got to do with this?’
‘Oh yeah, well the fingers were taken from the people being killed round here.’
It took Marcus a moment or two for the words to sink in.
‘You mean Dennis?’ The horror was tattooed on his face.
‘Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. The paper said there were three fingers in a box or something. Grim huh?’
The table remained silent for a few moments.
‘Some sicko is really having a field day.’ Aiden frowned.
‘That’s bad,’ Amber piped up. Until then, she’d only spoken to Myleene.
‘Yeah, that’s what I thought,’ Myleene said taking a gulp of her coke.
‘Three fingers?’ Aiden asked. ‘I thought only two people had died?’
‘No one died,’ Marcus suddenly hissed, ‘they were murdered.’
‘Blimey.’ Steven picked up his pint and drained the dregs. ‘Poor old Dennis.’
‘I’d say,’ said Aiden nodding in agreement.
‘This isn’t right, talking about these people like this. We should leave the police to their job and concentrate on ours for a moment.’ Jane’s lack of humanity stunned the table.
‘Right, so back to business then?’ Steven said with a smirk.
‘I don’t like your tone.’ Jane turned to him with a cold stare.
‘And I don’t much like yours.’ Marcus stroked the stem on his wine glass and looked at Jane.
‘Gossiping about the gruesome details of the murders won’t get us anywhere. I can’t stand to think about it. We’d be better off talking about the future of our employment, which was the entire reason I arranged this meeting.’ Jane still appeared unmoved by the discovery.
‘Fine,’ Aiden sighed, ‘let’s get on with it. Say what you want to say Jane.’
‘I would like to ask Marcus if he knows what will happen to the shop.’ The snide expression on her face was there for them all to see.
‘Veronica Wade is the sole beneficiary. I think it is far too soon for me to put pressure on her to make a decision about the future of the shop.’ Marcus was enjoying dangling this over Jane, although he had no desire to irritate the rest of them.
‘Are you still involved in that charity? What was it, the one for young homeless men?’ Jane held her head high on her long neck and allowed a small smile to settle in the corners of her mouth.
‘What does that have to do with anything?’ Marcus snipped back.
‘Wasn’t Dennis involved too?’ She cocked her head.
‘Briefly.’ Marcus straightened in his seat and readjusted his scarf.
‘I was sure he said something about leaving a substantial sum in his will. He was very proud of the work he’d done,’ she sneered.
‘He was. Dennis had a good heart.’ The implication was clear that Jane did not.
‘Do you know how long the shop is going to be shut for?’ Myleene asked.
‘That is police business. There is no reason they would inform me. I suspect they will be in touch with Veronica Wade in due course.’ Marcus stood, announcing he was ready to leave. ‘If that’s all…’
‘So you’re unable to tell us if we still have employment?’ Jane also stood blocking the exit.
‘As I have already confirmed, this is a matter for the police and Mrs Wade.’ Marcus took a step left and slid behind Aiden’s chair, making his escape.
‘I have a mortgage to pay. I can’t wait to see if my job is still available in a month’s time. Besides, are we even getting paid this month? We deserve answers.’
‘I’m sure Mrs Wade will deal with this in due course,’ Marcus sighed.
‘Well you may not need a regular income but I do,’ Myleene said what the rest of them had been thinking.
‘If it will help, I will speak to Veronica. I’m sure you will be paid at the end of the month as usual.’ He was beginning to think that agreeing to come to the pub had been a very bad idea.
‘And after that?’ Jane’s voice screeched as Marcus ignored her question before slipping out into the cold.
‘Let him go,’ Steven said getting up to go over to the bar for another pint. ‘It’s not really his fault.’
‘Don’t you care about your job?’ Jane asked trying to mask her disgust.
‘Not really, Jane.’ He turned and shrugged. ‘What will be will be.’
‘Well I care deeply about mine.’ She removed her woollen cape from the back of her chair and flung it around her tall slender body. The fabric was a similar shade to her hair. ‘I think you should be ashamed of yourselves,’ Jane told the rest of the table before flouncing out.
‘You know Mrs Wade’s son was arrested? He’s in prison,’ Aiden added, stroking his ginger beard as Steven returned carrying a tray of drinks for them all.
‘Yeah, I saw that on the news,’ Myleene confirmed with a grimace.
‘Mrs Wade must be very sad,’ Amber said quietly, picking a piece of fluff from her cream jumper off her skinny black jeans.
‘Poor sod.’ Steven shook his head while bringing a pint of rich coloured bitter to his lips. ‘Some people seem to be born with bad luck.’