Chapter 46
Monday was Cheryl’s worst day since the token had arrived.
She hadn’t slept the night before. Every creak of the house had sounded like the first attempt to burgle it.
The locksmith Sheila had reluctantly agreed to engage was due first thing the following day so the house would be safe after that, but there was still one more night to get through and the only way she could secure the back door was by dragging the kitchen table up against it and piling it high with saucepans that would topple over and make a hell of a racket if disturbed.
And now she’d lied to the police. Sheila had insisted on calling them, and Cheryl had been forced to repeat her lie that she had no idea where the token was.
Lying to the police was probably a criminal offence in itself.
She’d felt genuinely ill by the time she’d managed to get Sheila upstairs and into bed.
Seriously into nicotine withdrawal, her mother had woken in a foul mood.
And then the broadcaster had arrived, complete with a full news crew.
The house had felt like it was bursting at the seams with camera men, lighting men, sound men, make-up girls.
Her mother had loved it. Jasmin had insisted on interviewing Cheryl about her attack of the night before, had dwelled for what felt like an unreasonable time on the fear the two women were living in, with the token still unaccounted for. And then worse was to come.
Sheila had made the phone call to Barker, Momen and Dodds, who’d refused to speak to her, insisting that only Cheryl herself could make the appointment.
Spitting feathers, Sheila had had no choice but to hand over the phone.
The camera had been inches from Cheryl’s face, the big microphone hovering close, waiting to hear every stammer, every slip-up.
She’d made an appointment for the Wednesday afternoon, nothing earlier had been available, and Sheila was refusing to accept that she wouldn’t be allowed into the meeting with her daughter.
She’d pressed close to Cheryl all the time she was speaking and still made her repeat every word of the conversation once it was over. The cameras had caught all of it.
By the end of Monday, Cheryl was beginning to wish the token really had been destroyed in the fire.