If This is Paradise, I Want My Money Back by Carroll Claudia

Author:Carroll, Claudia [Carroll, Claudia]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harper Collins, Inc.
Published: 2011-10-18T05:00:00+00:00

Disaster Number Three

With impeccable timing, two particularly vicious-looking Dobermanns come around out of the house, sniffing for trouble.

‘Ah, here’s the lads,’ says Sir William, probably delighted with the distraction, as he takes a fistful of posh finger biscuits and waves them at the dogs. ‘Who’s been my good little fellas, then? Who wants a little treat?’

With that, the pair of mutts are over to him, licking his hand and gobbling down the biscuits.

‘Jesus Christ,’ I half-scream, ‘James, get rid of them!’

I’m actually standing on a chair now, terrified. And, true to form, they smell the fear.

Honestly, if it wasn’t so frightening it would be funny. Me on a chair, screaming for all I’m worth to get them away from me, James rocking back and forth, massaging his temples with the sweat pumping out of him, and the two Dobermanns at my feet, snapping and growling, completely sensing that I’m there.

The rest is a blur. I remember the following in no particular order. Sir William trying to coax the mutts away, unable to understand why they’re barking at thin air. James gulping back water, trembling and shaking and generally acting like he should be in an intensive-care unit and not the garden of a county mansion. Declan frantically gathering up all his files and folders and telling Sir William that they have lots of other ideas they could discuss in the future? Down the line? Maybe? If he’s still interested? Please and pretty please with knobs attached? ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ Sir William says non-committally. ‘We’ll all have dinner sometime,’ I remember him saying, dismissing them off-handedly. But you’d need to be a right thicko not to pick up on the clear, underlying implication.

Dinner for you and a CAT scan for your mate.

Next thing, I’m back in the car, safe from dogs and with James at the wheel beside me, clasping on to it for dear life. Trembling, shaking, breathing deeply, in for two, out for four.

‘Are you sure you’re going to be OK?’ asks Declan through the passenger window beside me. James just nods. He can’t even answer him, he’s that shell-shocked. Like he’s going to turn around at any minute and ask, ‘When, oh when, will the lambs be silent?’

‘Well, I’ll drive behind you, just in case.’ Poor old Declan, always so concerned.

Just then his phone beep-beeps as a text comes through.

‘Oh, it’s from Sir William,’ says Declan, holding out his phone, so I’m conveniently able to see it but James can’t.

It reads thus:

HOPE YOUR MATE IS OK. I CAN GET YOU NAME OF TOP HEAD SHRINK IN COUNTRY IF YOU WANT. SUGGEST HE SEES SOMEONE ASAP.

NOT NORMAL BEHAVIOUR.

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