February 2020, Edinburgh
The first official meeting of the Save Cyril Operation (SCO – code named Contrail) was in a boutique hotel, tucked away in a side street in Edinburgh’s West End. Jeremy had sent out the invitation via the new WhatsApp group. Bessie had told Jeremy, inadvertently replying to all, that it wasn’t happening in HER room. Jeremy, also replying to all, had noted that he had already booked the PRIVATE dining room and there was no need to shout. Janet hadn’t dared to reply to any of the messages until she had checked with Katherine on how WhatsApp worked and would the police be able to monitor their conversations?
Janet was the last to arrive. She sat down at the round table and took a peppermint from the bowl, unwrapped it, put the wrapper in her jacket pocket, and popping the clear sweet into her mouth. She poured herself a glass of water, took a sip, and rolled the slap of the cold liquid and fresh menthol over her tongue. She hadn’t been in a private dining room since she’d retired. They hadn’t changed. The trolley by the door had two black thermoses, a plate of individually wrapped shortbreads, and a bowl of half-hearted oranges. No one ever took the oranges in meeting rooms. Presumably, thought Janet, because it was impossible to peel and eat one without spraying orange juice over oneself and the other participants.
The room was windowless, deep grey, and tarted up with maroon and teal furnishings. It wasn’t a colour combination she would have chosen. It made her nauseous.
‘When you’re ready, Janet,’ Jeremy said. Bessie gave Jeremy a sharp look.
‘She’s on time,’ Katherine said. Jeremy flicked open his iPad. Katherine wrote something at the top of her blank notebook. Janet picked up her pen and rolled it between her fingers. She was underdressed. That is, if Jeremy was the standard. Jeremy’s white shirt was fresh, his lilac tie unstained, and his cufflinks chinked in just the right place above his wrist bones. Bessie had also made an effort. A long loose sky blue dress with dungaree straps. A silky crimson shirt. Thick silver bangles that jangled every time she moved. Janet hitched her chair closer to the table. Her tights were suddenly too brown, her skirt too tweedy, and her functional flat shoes an abomination.
‘I assume,’ said Jeremy, ‘that you’ve all heard the police aren’t following up the theft in Glasgow.’
‘The kidnapping you mean,’ Bessie said.
‘So I’ve made contact with the owners.’ Jeremy slid a finger across the iPad. Janet, facing him, couldn’t see the screen. Katherine stopped writing and looked up at him.
‘That wasn’t your decision to make,’ Katherine said.
Jeremy continued, ‘they want to stay out of it, in the background, but they’re happy to contribute funds as and when needed.’
‘Funds?’ Janet said.
‘Yes,’ Bessie replied. ‘We may need to hire someone. You know. An investigator. I mean the police aren’t going to do anything which is why we’re here and Jeremy has experience using experts. He has a whole network and he’s written so many contracts. There are several in Edinburgh. We should get a great price.’ Katherine interrupted her.
‘I said I would go undercover. Why are we hiring investigators? Janet hasn’t got much money.’ Janet stared at Katherine. What did she know about her financial status?
‘I am in the room,’ Janet said. All three looked at her. ‘And it’s my cloud. My Cyril. Why are you all taking over?’ She stopped, not knowing what to say next.
‘Of course,’ Bessie said. ‘We’re all here to help you, Janet. I’m sure Katherine was just being thoughtful. Anyway, we’ve got the money issue covered. There’s nothing to worry about on that front.’
‘I’m not a charity, Bessie.’ Janet’s cheeks were hot. She put a hand to her face, trying to cover them. How had she let them get to this stage? She was perfectly capable of dealing with it. She’d managed much worse successfully. What had happened to her? Was this age? They were treating her like a child. Worse. Same as her mother. She took another mint, straightened her back and looked at each of them in turn for several seconds. Jeremy nodded at her. Bessie twisted her bangles. Katherine blushed and wrote something down on her pad.
‘Let’s get back on track, shall we.’ Jeremy tapped the table with a slender white finger. ‘I’ve done a bit of research. That pair, Dan and Amy…’
‘I’d already done that. We know who they are. Animal rights activists. Can we just get on with it.’ Katherine’s lips were tight.
‘If you’d stop interrupting me I would get on with it. So, Amy and Dan are part of a group operating across the UK called Animal Rights and Protection League. ARPL for short. The others that were with them were probably satellite members – extra cover but not the brains behind the operation.’ He slid a finger across the screen again. ‘It seems they are well funded, and have effective legal support. They’ve been charged three times, been through the judicial system, and found not guilty each time.’
Jeremy carried on talking. Janet worked her way through the mints. Why were men so pompous? Katherine got up and made herself a cup of tea from the thermoses. She interrupted Jeremy every few minutes. Bessie looked across at Janet several times, smiling and jangling. Then there was silence. They were waiting for her to say something.
‘Sorry?’ she said. ‘Could you repeat that?’
‘We have a plan, ‘Katherine said. ‘We need you to agree to it.’ Janet scratched an itch on her elbow. What was wrong with her? She seemed to have lost several minutes. She leant back in her chair.
‘Could you just summarise it’ said Janet. ‘I’m fed up with you all arguing. Jeremy,’ she looked at him, ‘you didn’t do your research on me.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Jeremy.
‘I’m a lawyer,’ Janet said. ‘Retired, but a lawyer.’ Jeremy studied his cufflinks. He didn’t reply. ‘So, go through the plan again and make sure we all understand. And agree. We’re wasting time. Cyril could be anywhere.’ She got up and walked over to the tea trolley. Poured herself a black coffee and took two of the biscuits. ‘And,’ she continued as got back to her chair, ‘Katherine is going undercover and no decisions involving money will be made without checking with me first. But you can hire an investigator. And it has to be a woman.’
To be continued.
SANDERLINGS 