Chapter 48
The recent storms had brought down most of the leaves in Tara’s garden and she was raking them when the call from an unknown number came in.
Heart sinking – it would be another journalist at best, an estate agent at worst – she knew there was nothing to be gained from sticking her head in the sand.
Or a pile of autumn leaves. And so, she answered it.
‘My name’s Holly,’ a young female voice said. ‘I’m sitting on a bench outside Barker, Momen and Dodds in Exeter.’
A sudden gust sent a flurry of fresh leaf fall skimming around Tara. She said, ‘How did you get my number?’
‘It wasn’t hard. It said on the news that you’re a glass artist. I googled all the glass artists in Cornwall until I found a Tara.’
It was windy in Exeter too, judging by the whistling in the background. If Exeter was indeed where this Holly was calling from.
‘I didn’t think of that,’ Tara admitted. ‘What can I do for you, Holly?’
A moment’s silence, then, ‘I got one too.’ Holly’s voice had dropped. ‘I’ve just had my appointment with Joe Caiger.’
Suppressing the jolt of excitement, Tara told herself to take nothing on face value.
‘I’m surprised you’re not surrounded by journalists,’ she said. ‘Maybe you are.’
A soft laugh. ‘No, I’m kind of in disguise.’
‘What’s your second name?’
Another moment of silence and then, ‘Do you mind if I don’t say for now? It’s just, I’ve seen the way you and the other lady, Sabri Carter, are being hounded and I have a young son. He wouldn’t cope with that very well. He wouldn’t cope at all.’
‘How are you coping?’ Something in the young woman’s tone as she spoke about her son was inclining Tara to trust her.
A heavy sigh, then, ‘Tara, I wouldn’t know where to start. I mean, it’s all completely bonkers. Logan Quick’s fortune? Fuck!’
Tara walked to a nearby bench and sat down. It felt damp, even through her jeans. She said, ‘Tell me about it.’
‘My son’s so excited. It will kill him if it’s not real.’
‘Oh, it’s real all right,’ Tara said, hearing her voice sounding almost angry. If she tried to pin-point the moment she’d started believing it, it would probably be when she heard the raw fury in Amanda Holt’s voice. ‘What I’m not sure about is whether it’s a good thing or the exact opposite.’
Amanda Holt hadn’t sounded like the sort of woman who’d let her former husband’s fortune go to strangers without a fight.
‘I know,’ Holly replied. ‘There are times this last week when I’ve been terrified. I keep thinking, what if someone breaks into the house and tries to hurt Charlie.’
Well, the girl sounded genuine. All the same …
‘Holly, your token has a number on it. A number in triple figures. Can you tell me what it is?’
‘Hold on.’
Tara waited. It would be the easiest thing in the world to make a number up. Somehow, though, she doubted the number of tokens ran to triple figures.
‘I can’t see three digits,’ Holly said after several seconds. ‘There’s what appears to be a number seven, but it’s very small. Is that significant?’
‘Possibly,’ Tara replied, thinking, so, at least seven of us.
‘I met a man who had one too,’ Holly was saying. ‘His appointment finished as I was going in. I didn’t see a number on his token, I didn’t have time, but it looked exactly the same as mine. He lives in Bodmin.’
A man? Not all women then. ‘Do you have his details?’
‘He gave me a business card.’
Tara made up her mind. ‘I’m glad you phoned me, Holly. I’ve been in touch with the woman in St Austell who you may have seen on the news. She’s called Cheryl. Got a dragon of a mother.’
‘I’ve seen her,’ Holly admitted. ‘Is she for real? They’re claiming their token was lost.’
‘Hard to say. But she sounded credible on the phone. Nervous, though. I’m meeting her tomorrow in her local library. I think she suggested it to get away from her mother. So, with your chap in Bodmin, that makes five of us. Although the number on your token suggests seven.’
‘I guess.’
‘We should stay in touch. What about a WhatsApp group? Would you be up for that? And I’ve started work on a spreadsheet.’
‘A spreadsheet?’
‘I’ve been trying to identify things that Sabri and I have in common. We’re both roughly the same age, mid-fifties, and we both have an NHS background. We’ve both got children, as do you. Mind you, she’s happily married and I’m in the process of a divorce.’
‘The man I met, Robin, he looked to be that sort of age. I’m only thirty, though.’
‘Well, that’s the sort of thing we need to know.’
Silence on the line for several seconds, then, ‘That’s actually a good idea.’
Tara found herself smiling. ‘I’ve been known to have one or two. Holly, if we all put our heads together, maybe we can figure this out.’