This Book Is Full of Bodies by Rick Wood

Author:Rick Wood [Wood, Rick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rick Wood Publishing
Published: 2019-11-03T16:00:00+00:00

22

I stop off at a hidden away, high-class restaurant named Gustuchio’s, a few miles off junction seven of the M5.

I engage in a rather triumphant mackerel with pesto and garlic and herbs. It may not sound delightful, but believe me, it is.

I send my empty plate away and request a dessert menu just as my mobile phone rings. Normally I would not answer it, but on this occasion, it is Flora’s school and my mind begins to race.

Did they see me loitering around the other day?

Have they linked me with Mark’s disappearance?

Or, God forbid, (even though I am not a believer in an omnipotent, higher being fabricated from unintelligent human minds, I feel this is an appropriate turn of phrase in this scenario), has Flora told them?

Has she betrayed my trust?

But if she had, why ever would they call me?

Unless it was some kind of trap. A setup I will step into believing that I am unfounded only to be led away in handcuffs, disgraced before I am fully able to enjoy the benefits of my wealth.

Realising the phone is about to ring out, I put it to my ear and, despite how much I detest people talking on their phones in restaurants, I answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is that Mr Brittle?” asks a stern female voice that I imagine being attached to a stern overweight black woman.

“Yes…”

“This is Flora’s school calling. We have been unable to get hold of Flora’s mother, so we’ve called you, I hope that’s okay.”

No, you haven’t.

And it doesn’t sound like you know why.

“Yes, that is absolutely fine. How can I be of service?”

It’s best to remain jovial and not force yourself to presumptions in situations like these.

“Well, Flora has been a little… off, today. Her behaviour has been unacceptable and a little alarming, to say the least.”

“How so?”

“It is best if we speak face to face. I have Flora working in isolation with me, are you able to come in now?”

Oh, what has that dreadful girl done now? All I have done for her and she repays me with futile distractions.

“Is it really necessary?” I ask.

“Oh, I’m afraid so, Mr Brittle.”

Oh balls.

“Fine, I will leave now.”

“I appreciate that, we will see you soon.”

I hang up without saying goodbye and look over an exquisite dessert menu that has just been handed to me.

Crème Brule, Tia Mesu, profiteroles draped in chocolate and honey…

There is even an option to have a tray selection of desserts, a smaller portion of each rather than having to choose one in particular.

I curse this menu for temptation, for showing me what I am now unable to have. I do not hide my irritation as I hand the menu back and request the bill.

“Are the options not to your satisfactory, sir?”

Oh, stop calling me sir, I hate it. It’s such nonsense. I am no more a sir than you are a madam; you only call me this because you get paid to do so rather than any kind of real formal respect. Just talk to me normally and be done with it.

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