chapter thirty-four

 

Guernsey 2011

 

Fiona didn’t go straight home. Instead, she made the short journey to Bordeaux to sit in the car and weep. With her head balanced on the steering wheel, she may have looked as if she was taking a nap. Either way, no-one bothered her. She’d managed to stay in control while discussing the Order of Service, flowers and cars with Angela, but knew she couldn’t face Michael yet. Or anyone else.

Anguish ripped through her, leaving her limp and exhausted. Slowly, the tears dried and she wiped her face and eyes, catching a glimpse of red, puffy eyes and a red nose in the mirror. She stared out over the sea towards Herm, remembering the time she spent there a week ago. A lifetime. So much had happened since, it was no wonder her emotions were all over the place, she thought. Grieving had taken second place to tracing and then meeting Leo’s family and since then carrying out the scary plan to catch Duncan. And then there was Michael’s effect on her.

Telling herself she’d go mad if she dwelt on it anymore, Fiona slid out of the car and ordered a large coffee from the kiosk. The barista stared at her as she handed over the drink. Fiona, her head down, almost ran back to the car, collapsing into the seat. As the hot double-strength liquid fizzled through her body, she felt more in control and stepped out of the car to take deep breaths of salty sea air. Ozone and caffeine, that’s what she needed. Twenty minutes walking on the beach and she was ready to return home.

 

The rest of the afternoon dragged on, neither Fiona nor Michael finding it easy to settle. John phoned to check they were all right and to say Duncan had been into St Peter Port for a spot of shopping.

‘The tail said he looked totally at ease and not like someone being watched, which is good. He did draw some cash from an ATM giving out UK notes so could be he’s planning on leaving soon. My gut feeling still says he’ll try tonight. Are you ready?’

Fiona had the mobile on speakerphone and Michael, after catching her eye, said they were.

‘Good. Let’s hope it’s all over soon. Talk later.’

She began pacing around the kitchen, her nerves even more on edge after John’s comments. The worst part was not knowing if Duncan would break in or boldly ring the doorbell. Either way, it wasn’t easy to plan their response. Michael had to stay out of sight as long as possible, which meant she would be on her own for the crucial first minutes. Oh dear God, what had she let herself in for!

Michael put a hand out to stop her.

‘Hey, take it easy. I know it’s hard, and I’d gladly swap places with you, but we both know that’s not going to work. Just remember, he needs you alive and conscious, so is likely to threaten rather than hurt you. I’ll be seconds away if he starts anything, even if we don’t get the admission we want, I’ll step in. The police could still do him with breaking in or forced entry or whatever.’ His gentle voice soothed her and, without thinking, she moved towards him and his arms folded around her. It was good to be held again, and they remained embraced for a couple of minutes before Fiona drew back.

‘Thanks, you’re right. I’m…I’m a bit emotional after…seeing Nigel and everything.’ She forced a smile, moved to the sink and filled a glass of water. Propped against the worktop, she took a deep gulp. Michael, his arms folded across his chest, stood watching her with narrowed eyes.

‘I’m not surprised. You’re a remarkable woman, Fiona. You’ve had to deal with so much without any family to support you, and now you’re involved in a real-life game of cops and robbers! You have my utmost admiration.’ He smiled his warm, lazy smile and she felt the heat rise in her face and turned away, ostensibly to refill her glass but to want to hide the flush. Another gulp of water and she turned around.

‘That’s kind of you to say. But you just have to get on with it, don’t you? And although I don’t have a family, I do have wonderful friends, and that includes you. I’m grateful for what you’re doing.’ There, she’d said it. She did count him as a friend and hoped they’d remain so when he returned home.

‘We seem to have formed a mutual admiration society,’ he said, laughing. She joined in, glad to ease the serious mood.

‘Are you still up for cooking, tonight? I’d be happy to take over if you’re not in the mood.’

‘No, I’ll cook, I’d rather keep busy, and I bought some local beef steaks which are particularly tasty.’ She glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was nearly seven. ‘I’ll start now if you want to have a drink in the garden.’

Michael nodded, taking a lager out of the fridge and went outside while she gathered the ingredients for the meal. It seemed ages since she’d cooked, the last time being a dinner with Nigel before she’d flown to London. Biting her lip, she concentrated on preparing and chopping mushrooms, tomatoes, green beans and new potatoes while allowing the steaks to marinate in red wine. She thought a glass with the meal wouldn’t hurt and might help her nerves.

Fiona set the table in the dining room and called Michael to say it was ready. He helped her carry the food in and poured the wine.

‘This looks and smells delicious,’ he said, filling his plate. ‘Fresh air and exercise does wonders for the appetite, doesn’t it?’ He grinned at her.

‘Yes, and thanks for your hard work with the garden, it’s looking loads better.’ As she sat down and picked up her knife and fork, it suddenly hit her that in a few hours she might be facing a violent Duncan, at his mercy, for a few moments at least. And her hands shook.

‘You okay?’ Michael asked, reaching to grab one of her hands.

‘Not really. Thinking about Duncan…’ she trailed off and, removing her hand from his, took a swallow of wine.

‘It’s hard, I know. If you want to pull out–’

‘No! I’ll do it. Can’t let everyone down. Just my nerves. Honestly.’ Fiona forced herself to take a bite of the steak, taking her time to chew it, savour it. Focusing on the food would help take her mind off – later.

‘As long as you’re sure?’

She nodded.

‘Right. We’ll get through this, remember we’re a team. You’re not alone.’ He patted her hand and started to eat. ‘By the way, this is good. You’re not a bad cook,’ he said, with a smile.

‘Thanks.’ Fiona continued eating even though her throat was tight from fear. She’d be no good to anyone if she fainted from lack of food at a crucial moment. They both continued eating in silence, aware of the elephant in the room, by the name of Duncan and neither of them was able to dismiss it. Once they’d finished the main course, Fiona served a fresh fruit salad with a jug of thick Guernsey cream.

Michael emptied his bowl, saying, ‘Thank you, that was a great meal. Shall I make us some coffee?’

‘Please. You do that while I load the dishwasher.’ She wouldn’t normally be keen on coffee in the evening, but it could be a long night. They’d agreed to stay up as long as would be normal, about eleven, and would then go to their bedrooms but try and stay awake as long as possible. The coffee made, they headed for the sitting room to watch television. Fortunately, there was a good choice of programmes that evening to keep them entertained, although Fiona sensed the build-up of tension in her neck and shoulders as the sky darkened. Inspector Woods had emailed her a photo of Duncan taken the previous day and his face floated in and out of her mind. Square, close-cropped head, piggy eyes and leathery, lined skin and thin lips. Once seen, never forgotten kind of face. Glancing at Michael, sprawled on the sofa, he appeared absorbed, his eyes glued to the television, only the tapping of his fingers on his leg giving him away. With an inward sigh, she forced herself to focus on the programme, a sitcom she didn’t normally watch but had some funny moments. Time dragged on, and it was nearly eleven when her phone rang. Immediately her heart leapt into her throat as she picked it up.

‘Hi Fiona, he’s on the move so best put on the cameras. I’ll ring back in a few minutes to confirm if he’s heading this way. Remember, I’ll be outside in the van with a couple of officers.’

‘Okay, thanks, John.’

Michael sat up, and she relayed John’s message before leaving the room to switch on the cameras. She had to stay calm; she had to stay calm, the mantra ran through her head as she moved around, clutching her mobile. Minutes later, John called back.

‘He’s in Trinity Square, so we’re on full alert. An officer’s coming in now. You okay?’

‘Yes. Just letting him in. Bye.’

She opened the door, and an armed policeman slipped in, nodding at her as she led the way to the door into the garden. Leaving him outside, she returned to find Michael clearing away any signs of his presence in the sitting room, and she quickly checked the kitchen. Nothing showed she had a visitor. He came in and gave her a hug.

‘You’ll be fine. We’ve got you covered as they say in the movies. I’ll go to my hidey-hole when he arrives. Okay?’ She nodded, unable to speak. The hidey-hole was the cupboard under the stairs, cleared to make space for him to stand in without too much discomfort. He had his mobile on silent so John could call him if necessary. Her mobile, also on silent, now vibrated in her hand.

‘He’s parked down the street and is walking towards the house. It looks as if he’ll come to the front door, not carrying any tools. Good luck.’

Michael got ready to enter the cupboard while Fiona returned to the sitting room, where the television entertained an empty room. She just had time to take another gulp of wine when the doorbell rang. Taking deep breaths, she returned to the hall, noting Michael had disappeared under the stairs before opening the door.

She was faced with a large man in dark clothing, wearing a balaclava and pointing a gun at her chest.