Agnes turned away, looked back at the flames. ‘I can’t believe I was wrong,’ she murmured. ‘Stubborn. How much do I owe you?’
‘I can send you a bill.’
‘I’d rather settle it now.’
‘There’s only really the doctors’ visits, a bit of research. Fifty pounds will cover it.’
She left the room. Came back with the cash. I took the bills and folded them into my bag. ‘Thank you.’ I wanted to apologise but I didn’t know what for.
On the doorstep she laid her hand on my arm. ‘Thank you. For listening. It didn’t turn out as I hoped but it helped to have someone taking it seriously.’
‘Take care,’ I said. ‘If anything else crops up you know where I am.’
As I walked away disappointment tightened my throat. If only it could’ve turned out differently. I thought it was all over then.
And we all know what thought did.
It was only ten forty-five and Tuesday was one of the days that Jimmy Achebe had asked me to watch Tina. I drove back to the office, checked my answerphone and mail and collected the camera. I’d invested in a powerful zoom lens which meant I could get shots of people without being under their noses. Nevertheless I still felt completely exposed whenever I used it. It was beyond me how anyone could fail to spot the strange woman parked in the car snapping away with a funny-looking camera. But to date no one had come up and knocked on the window to ask me my business. The zoom meant I could furnish my clients with the proof they wanted of lies told and trust betrayed.
Before leaving I rang Jimmy Achebe’s home number. No point in staking out an empty house. Tina answered the phone.
‘Hello,’ I said, ‘is that the travel agent’s?’
‘You’ve got the wrong number.’
‘Oh, sorry.’
I stopped to buy a trendy sandwich and a drink on the way across to the Achebes’. Levenshulme – where the biscuit factory sweetens the air. I drove past the address Jimmy had given me. An ordinary terrace. Door leading straight on to the street. A quiet road. One where a strange car parked too long would have the nets twitching. I parked up on the main road where I could see down the length of their street if Tina appeared.
I’d finished my posh butties (avocado, cream cheese and chives) and my drink. I was parked near the Antique Hypermarket, full of stalls dealing in furniture, fixtures and fittings. The sort of place you could get original fireplaces like Agnes’ among the Victorian hatstands and chaise longues. I’d tagged along when my friend Diana had got old chimney pots there for her back yard. I divided my attention between Tina’s street and the comings and goings of the antique dealers.