Page 8 of Mercury Rising
Her stern glare at Madeline suggested she didn’t believe a word of what she was saying.
“Thank you,” Madeline said. “Have you got enough to tell the rest of the neighbours?”
“Ms Morrison, it is not the idle tongues of Queens Crescent you should be worrying about. Then I expect you have a team of people handling the impact this will have on you.”
Madeline nodded and swept off toward their house. Mercury smiled at Mrs Wimpole.
“She’s taken it quite badly.”
“I’ve always been so admiring of how your mother never shies away from letting us all know how things affect her,” Mrs Wimpole said with a glint in her eye. “Don’t forget my offer. I think you’d rather enjoy it.”
The prospect of digging through Mrs Wimpole’s past did have its attractions.
“I would love it.”
“Mercury,” Madeline shouted. “Time is ticking.”
“Off you pop,” Mrs Wimpole said. “The last thing you need to finish today is a night in the cells. Now that is a terrible experience. So very dull.”
Mercury’s jaw dropped. “You?”
“My dear, I was around in the sixties. A stay in the Westminster police station was a badge of honour.”
He didn’t quite believe what he had heard.
“Best not share that one with your mother,” Mrs Wimpole continued.
“I should go. Thank you, Mrs Wimpole.”
Mercury left his surprising neighbour and ran up the steps to their house. Madeline stood in the doorway.
“She is such a nosey old biddy,” Madeline muttered, slamming the door behind Mercury.
“She meant well.”
“Pah,” Madeline said, stalking through into the kitchen. “I need a drink before I get ready.”
Mercury followed her. “Ready? Are you going out?”
“Dinner with my new director. Gorgeous too.”
“Oh, right. I thought we might spend the evening together.”
He didn’t fancy a night on his own, avoiding the temptation to doomscroll on his social media to find out which sanctimonious commenters had slagged him off. He’d tried his best to ignore it but it was easier said than done. Surely his own mother would understand that.
But Madeline spun around, her eyes flashing. “Mercury. This incident has fucked my schedule. I am supposed to be in Cyprus right now. I’m lucky they rearranged the shoot for the London scenes instead. I can hardly tell him I have to miss dinner to tuck my twenty-eight-year-old criminal son into bed, can I?”
Mercury looked down. “No, of course not.”
She sighed. “Darling, I’m sorry. I know I’m being hard on you. I can’t help it. This has really worried me.”
Every fibre in him wanted to scream in her face that he didn’t do it. Yet, he’d tried that on so many occasions in the last month, he had run out of energy.
“I promise I’ll do the time at Bodhi House without fuss.”
Madeline stroked his cheek before tucking a stray strand of his raven brown hair behind his ear.
“I know you will. I think I’ve played the stonehearted mother enough now. How about I race through dinner and we can watch a movie together.”
