The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1679 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I tried to call James’ mobile but it was switched off. I suppose if he’s investigating the demon lawyer, then he’s hardly likely to be available for little chats, is he? I went off to make some tea. As I was doing so the phone rang and I took the call.

“Hello?”

“Cathy?”

“Hello, James, how’s it going?”

“I’ve been arrested.”

“I’ll get you a lawyer.”

“I’ve already phoned mine, he’s on his way.”

“Who’s that?”

“A Jeremy Kite.”

“You’re joking?”

“So can you tell Mum I might be unavailable for a couple of days.”

“Is that a code?”

“No, sis.”

“Sis, are you pretending you’re calling me to so I can pretend to tell your mother?”

“I knew you would, sis.”

“Is there anything you want me to do?”

“Just tell Mum.”

“You’re mother’s dead, isn’t she?”

“No. Go and see her.”

I heard a voice telling him to end the call.

“Tell her, I’ll email as soon as I can. Bye, sis.” The line went dead.

I rushed off and checked my emails there was one from James. ‘Hi Cathy, my mum is, Lydia Beck, Snowdrop Cottage, King Alfred Road, Heath’s Copse, Winchester. It’s near the Royal Winchester Golf Club. She’s a golf nut, so call before you go, she may be out on the course. Ask her to give you the envelope she received today. J.’

I called the number he gave and very educated female voice said, “Hello?”

“Hello, could I speak with Mrs Lydia Beck.”

“Who shall I say is calling?”

“Cathy Cameron.”

“And in what context are you calling, Lady Beck?”

“Lady Beck?” I gasped.

“Yes, Lady Beck, now what d’you want?”

“I’d like to speak with her, in person. I’m a friend of James, her son.”

“Um, will she want to speak with you though?” I heard muttered before, “What was your name again?” Cameron, the Lady Catherine, should I repeat it for you?”

“I see, can I take your number and I’ll call you back.”

“Just who are you?” I asked using my snottiest voice.

“Siobhan Erskine, her secretary, why?”

“I just wondered.”

“Lady and Sir Richard are very busy people you know?”

“So I believe, if you’re her secretary then you’ll know her engagements for the next day or two, won’t you?”

“Naturally.”

“Good, is she in tonight? I need to see her urgently.”

“She’s hosting a dinner party at eight.”

“I’ll be there at seven, do tell her won’t you?” I put the phone down before she could reply.

I asked Julie to organise the evening meal and after changing into a more affluent outfit, a skirt suit and boots, I got in my car and set off for Winchester. It was six o’clock and still raining.

I found Winchester easily enough and navigated my way across the city towards the golf courses on the western side and soon found the Stockbridge Road and the golf course, surely she wasn’t playing today? It had rained in Portsmouth most of the day and it looked much the same here.

After a bit of checking with the sat nav, I found the house and discovered it was better fortified than ginger wine. A high brick wall with railings atop seemed to stretch forever and I drove until I found an entrance with the inevitable CCTV and electronic gate entrance. I pressed the call button and a voice asked who I was.

I told them and they asked for proof of identity. I nearly exploded. “I’m the Lady Catherine Cameron. I don’t carry ID around with me, just open this stupid gate.”

I half expected them to tell me to go home and get it.

“Please stand outside your car.”

“It’s pissing down, and this suit is an Yves Saint Laurent, so go take a running jump.”

“If you’re not who you purport to be, the police will be called.”

“Fine, call them now, I wish to report an escaped lunatic–now open the gate you idiot.”

The gates opened and I gunned the Jaguar down the drive, it was quite impressive. Sir Richard and Lady Beck, obviously enjoyed a very comfortable lifestyle. However, I’m not impressed by money, and probably have access to more than they could dream of, so it leaves me cold.

I pulled up outside the front door and dashed from the car to the porch and the door opened. The door wasn’t the sort you can get in Jewsons, neither was the oak panelled entrance hall with flagstones and hand sculpted mats.

“Lady Cameron, I presume?” said a haughty female voice.

“I am.”

“Do come in,” she invited me into a small reception room which was obviously a study of some sort, lined with books and in the one corner stood a small desk with a computer on it.
“Why do you need to see me so urgently?”

“James asked me to come.”

“He hasn’t made you pregnant has he?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, it happened once before, and she was...never mind. What d’you want? Money, I suppose?”

I began to see why James hadn’t mentioned his parents before.

“I have enough money, thank you.”

“No one ever has enough.”

“I do, and my husband has quite a bit more.”

“I see, so what d’you want?”

“James told me an envelope was delivered here today.”

“Lady Cameron, if that’s who you really are, there was no post today, it’s a bank holiday.”

“James asked me to collect the envelope, I’m sure he knew what he was saying.”

“How d’you know my son?”

“I’m one of his clients.”

“In which case I think you’d better leave. I’ll have nothing to do with his sordid world of petty crime or the malefactors who employ him.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m not petty, sordid or a malefactor, and I have better things to do than piss about on a golf course much of my life. You know exactly what I mean by the envelope so I’d be grateful if you’d get it for me.”

“How dare you?”

“Oh I’ve dared much greater things than a slanging match with some old fart who has ideas above her station.”

“Just who do you think you are?”

“A damned sight more important than you, and bloody sight better mannered, no I’ll thank you to give me the envelope so I can go home and look after my children and you can entertain your assorted group of social climbers and toadies.”

“I’d have thought , Henry’s daughter in law would have a nanny,” she muttered as she opened a drawer of the desk and passed me the large envelope. “This is what you wanted.”

“Thank you.”

“James said you were feisty, I just wanted to see how feisty.”

“That was all for your amusement?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I’m sorry but I don’t find it so.”

“Ah because you’re not used to having to demand what you want.”

“No, I find asking politely usually gets it for me, but I can slog it out with the best of them.”

“I know, James has spoken of you, and we’ve seen bits in the paper occasionally. Actress, peer’s wife, teacher, film maker, public speaker and crime fighter.”

I glanced at my watch, “Your guests will be here anytime.”

“There are no guests.”

“Your secretary told me you were entertaining tonight?”

“Yes, you, or should that be you entertained me.”

“You have a strange sense of humour, Lady Beck.”

“So they tell me.”

“I have to go, goodnight to you.”

“Goodnight, Lady Cameron, I look forward to seeing you again.”

“The pleasure’s all yours,” I fired back as I dashed from the porch out to my car and started it. This time the gates let me through with no hindrance and I sped home. Once there, I examined the envelope, it was addressed, ‘Lady Cameron, to be collected.’ I nearly exploded at that woman’s nonsense, just wait until I see that James again, I’ll shoot him.