Page 7 of Mercury Rising
“Good afternoon, dear,” Mrs Wimpole replied, out of breath. She had closed the distance between their houses at an alarming rate. “I wanted to pledge my support to you. I saw on the internet that you got quite the tough sentence, young man.”
“Thank you, Mrs Wimpole,” Mercury muttered.
The whole thing reminded him of being a teenager. Mrs Wimpole would regularly interrogate him on his school progress. In fact, when he’d passed his exams, she had been the second person he’d wanted to tell.
“Mrs Wimpole,” Madeline said. “We’ve had a very long day.”
“Of course you have,” Mrs Wimpole replied. “I expect you’ll want to go and get into something a little comfier.”
She gave Madeline’s suit a hard stare.
“You did look marvellous on the television footage.”
Mercury stifled a laugh. It had taken Madeline’s stylist many tries to find her the best suit for the occasion.
“Thank you,” Madeline said through gritted teeth.
“Now, Mercury,” Mrs Wimpole said, taking hold of his hand. “This curfew. Is it within the boundaries of your property or the whole of Queens Crescent?”
“The house. But only at night. I can do what I like in the day. Within reason.”
“Gosh, that is very harsh. I had intended on inviting you over one night for supper. I know a young man like you likes to be out and about. However, my photograph collection is in a terrible state and I thought I might seize the moment. So to speak.”
Mercury frowned. “I’m not sure how I can help.”
“Nonsense, you have a wonderful eye,” Mrs Wimpole replied. “Your help refining things down to a more manageable level would be most appreciated. If you find yourself at a loose end, I’ll be round with Parkin like a shot.”
He knew what she was doing and was so very grateful. Mrs Wimpole would never approve of lawbreaking, yet she had thrown him an olive branch.
“Thank you, Mrs Wimpole,” Mercury said. “Once I get settled into my community service, I’m sure we can arrange something.”
Mrs Wimpole folded her arms. “Ah yes, what have they got you doing? I hope it’s nothing dangerous.”
“It’s a youth project,” Mercury replied.
In the car, his mother had made it clear she didn’t want to talk so he’d started his research. It didn’t seem all that bad.
“And where is this place?”
“Somewhere nearly Bromley.”
Mrs Wimpole shuddered. “South London? Goodness.””
“We really have to go,” Madeline said. “I don’t want him to break his curfew on the first day.”
“Ah yes,” Mrs Wimpole said. “Have they fitted something to your ankle? The Professor said they would have done. I can’t fathom how?”
Mercury nodded. “I’m afraid the Professor is right.”
Mrs Wimpole’s eyes widened. “May I see?”
Mercury raised his trouser leg to reveal the plastic manacle that would destroy his life for the next four weeks. Mrs Wimpole stooped to get a better look.
“Whatever next?”
For the hundredth time that day, shame burnt through Mercury’s system. Mrs Wimpole might be forthright yet she had always been decent to him. Even if she and Madeline very rarely saw eye to eye.
“This time will fly by and you will have a very useful life experience to show for it,” Mrs Wimpole said. “I’ll let you go. I’m sure your mother wants to pamper you a little after the horrid day you’ve had.”
