‘I found these,’ says Quinn, stepping into the bedroom. He is holding two cans of spray paint. His eyes fall on the mask. ‘Jesus H Christ!’

Chapter 40

40

IT’S ALMOST 3 P.M. AND Victoria Dunmore-Watson is the only one in the bloody office. Again! Stevie is still ‘off sick’, although she thinks the sickness is just him wallowing in a mire of self-pity at being dumped by his girlfriend, Charlotte. Victoria felt sorry for him but soon got over that when she realised she’d have to cover his workload. Her boyfriend, Hugo, seems to think this is hilarious and told her just now it will do her good to do a whole day’s work for once. She told him to fuck off and ended the call.

It’s all just so intolerable!

And Jamie doesn’t seem to mind one bit. He swanned off two hours ago to meet some new client, who she knows nothing about.

Doubly intolerable.

The trouble is that she needs to talk to him. There are details on the Harmony House deal with creepy Clive that she needs to sort out before tomorrow. She reckons it unlikely Jamie is meeting a client. It’s more likely he’s on a date with some fawning bint from Tinder, so he’ll probably ignore his phone, like he always does.

With her long, pale varnished fingernails, she taps the glossy dark red packet of Dunhill cigarettes sitting on top of her desk and tries to decide what to do. At that same moment her phone begins vibrating. She thinks it might be her twattish boyfriend phoning back to apologise, but it’s actually Jamie. She is relieved he’s called but also feels a twinge of irritation that it’s not Hugo.

She answers.

‘Jamie, thank God!’

‘Vics. Are you OK?’ His voice has an echo as if he is in a car.

‘I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m trying to finish this report for Clive.’

‘Oh my God, do my ears deceive me. Are you actually working?’

‘Yes, I am and it’s unbearable.’

‘Don’t worry about Clive. I’ve just spoken to him and he is happy to wait a few more days.’

‘Are you kidding me? Oh, I fucking hate him! He makes my life a misery demanding that I get this report ready by tomorrow. But then you talk to him and he’s all sweetness and light. Yes, Jamie. Of course, Jamie. I’d love to, Jamie. Fuck me up the arse sideways, Jamie.’

Jamie laughs. ‘For a posh girl you’ve got such a potty mouth.’

Victoria tips a cigarette from the packet and puts it between her lips as she continues to talk. ‘I only speak the truth,’ she garbles as she fishes for a lighter in her bag.

‘Have you got something in your mouth?’ asks Jamie. ‘I’m not disturbing you and Hugo, am I?’