‘Giles?’ Chalkie spluttered. ‘What do you want that prick for?’
Holding up a finger for silence, I called Waldemar on his walkie-talkie. ‘It’s Rachel. Can you come to room seven?’
‘What’s going on?’ Chalkie demanded. ‘I’m telling you, Rachel, I –’
A knock on the door announced Giles, Waldemar hot on his heels.
‘Giles,’ I said. ‘Chalkie needs your help –’
‘– I fucking don’t!’
‘Waldemar, have you the keys to the gate? And the shed? Yes? Okay, boys, let’s go.’
Walking speedily – after all, I had an appointment for a Carboxy Gun Facial I didn’t want to miss – the three men scrambled to keep up as I led the way out into the grounds.
Waldemar unlocked the gate to the threadbare pitch and led us into the shed.
‘Good Lord!’ Giles said. ‘It’s a gym.’
Ah, it wasn’t really. But a giant punchbag hung from the ceiling and a crate overflowed with boxing gloves, tennis balls, skipping ropes and other basic keep-fit paraphernalia.
‘What you need?’ Waldemar asked me.
‘Tennis rackets and balls.’
‘Tennis?’ Chalkie was incredulous. ‘I’m not playing fucking tennis. Especially not with him.’
‘Come now,’ Giles said. ‘Who would miss an opportunity to – how did you put it – prance around and yelp, “Deuce”。’
I wished he hadn’t said that. Chalkie was dangerously volatile – this was risky as fuck.
Briskly, I took a racket from Waldemar and put it in Chalkie’s hand. ‘Go out there and hit that ball. Giles will show you how. Do it until you’re exhausted. Do it until the anger is gone.’
‘I fucking won’t.’
Tightly, I grasped his wrist. ‘Do. It. The anger will come back, it’ll keep coming back. When it does, you tell Waldemar or Florian and they’ll set you up with the punchbag, or Giles will play more tennis with you – isn’t that right, Giles?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘It’s Friday.’ I was intent on Chalkie. ‘I’m leaving now, but when I come back on Monday morning, you’d better still be here.’
Absolutely furious, he glared at me.
‘Okay?’
Still, he wouldn’t talk.
‘If you’re gone,’ I promised him, ‘I will find you and I will kill you.’
‘She hev very particular set of skill,’ Waldemar said.
I flinched. This was no time for jokes. But Chalkie hadn’t shoved Giles or made for the gate, so I decided to be hopeful.
Back at the house, I told the weekend staff to keep an extra-careful eye on Chalkie, also on Trassa, Harlie, Dennis and Ella – it had been a big week – then left for my facial.
Laughter and squealing sounds met me as I opened my front door. Devin must be here. Unless Kate had started talking to herself. And considering she came from the Walsh gene pool, anything was possible.
No, there they both were, in the kitchen, making something.
‘Rachel, hey!’ Kate looked so happy.
‘Hey!’ Devin stuck his head around her.
‘Hey.’ I smiled into his eyes, thinking, I don’t mind hearing your orgasm noises at ALL.
‘We’ve made dinner,’ Kate said. ‘It just needs to go in the oven for an hour now. You’ll eat with us?’
‘Sure. Lovely. Thanks.’ Shite.
‘Meanwhile, a favour? Granny’s surprise party – can I borrow something of yours?’
‘Sure! Like, if you can find anything.’ I didn’t have much call for party frocks.
‘Can I look at the vintage stuff in the spare room?’
Calling it vintage was a stretch. They were just old clothes I hadn’t worn in years but still had an emotional attachment to. ‘There might be something in there.’
‘Cool! We take a look?’ Kate touched Devin and both of them scampered up the stairs.
Not long afterwards, Kate called, ‘Rachel? Could you come here?’
In the tiny bedroom, her face was radiant with delight. ‘This one!’ She held up a vintage cocktail dress in midnight blue – and it actually was vintage, from 1980. The boned bodice was strapless and embroidered with metallic planets, the skirt a tulle explosion. ‘Can I try it on?’ She bent to pull off her leggings – then, prim and pink-cheeked, she ordered Devin, ‘Look away.’
‘Now you’re shy?’ With a slow smile, he moved to face the window.