Rosie puts her hand over the top of her glass. “I’m going to stick to water, I think.”
“Rosie D’Antonio and water,” says Derek. “Goes together like ski instructors and Jamaica.”
Rosie musters a smile. On the staircase, Eddie has disappeared. But she knows he will be here for a reason.
She needs to focus a little.
Because, while Rosie is busy protecting Amy, is anybody busy protecting her?
74
Amy and Steve are waiting outside The Brass Monkey.
Amy has to admit it has a certain charm. The white portico and thick oak door are garlanded with red and yellow flowers. Amy doesn’t know what kind of flowers they are. All flowers are roughly the same, aren’t they, apart from the colors? The summer air is slowing everything and everyone. Ponies chew on hanging baskets with a leisurely concentration, while human beings vape and gossip all around them. There is a burst of amber light and laughter each time the door opens.
“Happy to be back?” Amy asks.
Steve nods.
“Ever going to leave again?”
“Shouldn’t have thought so,” says Steve.
“Do we really have to do the quiz?” asks Amy.
“You’ll see,” says Steve. “What’s the point of vaping? Do you know?”
“No idea,” says Amy. “What flowers are these?”
“No idea,” says Steve.
“I’ve missed these chats,” says Amy, and Steve laughs. It’s true, though. Amy likes to hear about New Forest roadworks and missing postmen. She likes to hear about the normality of life, though she has no interest in living it.
Rosie is the first teammate to appear, carrying an overnight bag. Amy looks at her quizzically.
“Something wrong with The Pig?” she asks.
“It’s almost perfect,” says Rosie, putting down her bag by the picnic bench. “Food great, terrific barman, soft beds, the views, honestly, all you could ask for. If I have one gripe, it’s that there’s a hitman there.”
Rosie sits.
“Not Eddie?” Amy asks.
“Persistent little bugger,” says Rosie. “Staying on that subject, I wonder if we know whether Vasiliy Karpin is still trying to kill me? You seem to have forgotten him in all the excitement.”
“Uh—” starts Amy.
“Sorry to be all ‘me, me, me,’ ” says Rosie.
“Jeff was handling it,” says Amy.
“Jeff was handling it,” repeats Rosie. “That’s good, that’s put my mind at rest. Dead Jeff will protect me. The guy in the BMW full of bullet holes has got my back.”
“BMW Full of Bullet Holes is a good name for a b—”
“Not now, Stevie,” says Rosie.
“Whether Eddie is here to kill you, or me, we should probably go inside,” says Amy. Rosie is right, though. Amy should be thinking about Vasiliy Karpin. He’s still out there somewhere, and still, presumably, gunning for her client. “Client”? Funny to think how quickly Rosie turned from being her “client” to being something quite different. A friend? It’s not quite that. When Amy has more time on her hands, she will work out just what sort of relationship she and this woman old enough to be her grandmother have developed.
“You ever have a drive-by shooting in Axley?” Rosie asks Steve.
“Someone crashed a moped into a bollard once,” says Steve. “But that’s the worst we’ve had. Are you ready to quiz?”
“No, of course not,” says Rosie. “Before I go in, I need to know exactly who’s there, exactly what’s going to happen, and exactly how early I can leave.”
“My normal quiz team will be there,” says Steve. “John and Jyoti. They don’t know we’re coming, so my replacement, Martin, the loss-adjuster from Lymington, will be there, and apart from that it’s just us.”
There is an approaching voice. “What a time I have had of it this afternoon. Is there a sight more beguiling, I wonder, than an English churchyard? ‘The paths of glory lead but to the grave.’ That is your Thomas Gray, I believe. You will correct me if I’m wrong, but I do believe it is Gray?”
“And Henk,” says Steve. “Hello, Henk. You fancy a pint?”
“When in Rome,” says Henk. He looks at the flowers climbing across the entrance to the pub. “Ah, crocosmia, beautiful. You know they are South African originally?”
“Okay, Henk can be on our team too,” says Steve. “We all set?”
“Steve, I implore you to tell us what is going on,” says Henk. “I implore you.”
“Through this door,” says Steve, and leads his motley team into the pub.
