Page 35 of Blow Down (The Plumber's Mate)
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s Frith.”
I frowned. “That sounds familiar, somehow.”
Cherry beamed. “You’re thinking of the Scottish divination system, aren’t you? It’s quite fascinating to compare it with what you do, although it was much more ritualistic, of course.” She paused. “You know, you really ought to experiment. Try taking your shoes off next time you use your thing.”
“Uh . . . What? And seriously, what? Sis, for me to be thinking of your Scottish wotsit, I’d have to have heard of it at some point in my life, yeah? And what the hell have my shoes got to do with anything?”
“You know, most people would do some reading around their subject,” Cherry said severely.
I’d never quite got around to telling her about the whole dowsing club fiasco. Partly ’cos she’d already left home when it happened and we hadn’t been on all that good terms anyhow. But mostly ’cos it wasn’t an experience I fancied reliving anytime soon.
“Oi, I read around it on Saturday. Much bloody good it did me.” Reading. That sparked a thought . . . “Got it—Frith was the name of the bunnies’ god in Watership Down, wasn’t it? I remember you reading me that when I was little. You got your knickers in a twist ’cos I laughed at that bit where the rabbit tells Frith to bless his bottom.”
“Well, trust you to reduce the favourite book of my childhood to its lowest common denominator.”
“Anytime, Sis. Anytime.” Funny, though. I’d had no idea I remembered that. God knows how old I’d been, although I reckoned it’d been before we’d moved out of London, so I couldn’t have been more than eight. “I liked that book,” I said, as it started coming back to me. “Fiver, the little one, he was the most important, wasn’t he? Had all these weird visions and stuff that saved all their lives.”
“I can’t imagine why he was your favourite,” Cherry said drily. “Although, come to think of it, I’d have thought you’d like Bigwig too.”
I grinned. “Any similarities between my fiancé and a hulking big bruiser of a bunny rabbit are . . . probably best left unmentioned when he’s around.”
“Probably best left unmentioned when I’m around too.” Cherry refilled our glasses.
When Phil got in around eleven, he found us both half-asleep in front of the telly, Cherry wearing an old pair of my pyjamas that looked almost as bad on her as they did on me. Although I s’pose Greg, if he’d been here, might have begged to differ. The wine bottle, needless to say, was empty.
Cherry twisted round in her seat to beam up at him. “Oh, hello, Phil. You missed a lovely meal.”
“Save me any leftovers?” he asked, looking amused.
“Nah, sorry.” If he’d wanted feeding, he should have said he was coming over. Not that I wasn’t glad to see him. “Fish stir-fry thing. Wouldn’t have kept. There’s bacon and eggs in the fridge, though, if you’re hungry.” I shifted my legs.
“Don’t get up. I’ll just grab a sandwich.” He disappeared, presumably to the kitchen. Unless he had some secret sandwich stash elsewhere in the house I was unaware of, which was pretty bloody unlikely on several different levels.
Cherry unwound her legs, stood up, and stretched. “I should head to bed.”
“Big day tomorrow?”
She shrugged. “Just a day. Still, at least I won’t have to get up so early, staying here,” she added, brightening.
“Oi, no getting any ideas about moving in.” It’d be the kiss of death for my sex life. “And don’t forget to take your stuff out the machine.” We’d bunged her work shirt in for a quick wash, together with any other bits and bobs she’d wanted to add—I’d carefully not paid too much attention.
Sis nodded and padded off. I heard her saying good night to Phil, then he appeared with a couple of beers in one hand and a plateful of cheese sarnies in the other, and plonked himself down next to me on the sofa.
I grabbed a sarnie. Well, it was only polite to keep him company, wasn’t it?
“Cheers,” I said, and took a bite.
Phil gave me a look that was darkly amused. “One of these days I’ll add Tabasco sauce to the top one. That’ll stop you.”
“Nah, you love me too much.” I was fairly certain he’d made extra on purpose anyway. He knew me pretty well by now. “So go on, what’ve you found out about dear departed Amelia?”
“Amelia Fenchurch-Majors was in business as a freelance events organiser, in partnership with Lance Frith.”
“Yeah, Cherry was telling me about him. You met him?”
“Not yet. Got an appointment tomorrow.” Phil hesitated. “He wants to meet you.”
“Me? Why?”
