What was this, a joke? Lenny loved practical jokes while she hated them. Was this his doing?

‘We are here to talk to Mr Leonard Axelford,’ said one.

Angel turned her head to where Lenny was standing – or he had been. Now, he wasn’t there. There was a commotion at the far side of the marquee and suddenly the two policemen were shoving her out of the way and tearing inside. The two men holding the cake were knocked sideways. With a sickening lurch the cake swayed and then they dropped it. All four tiers splattered onto the hard laminate floor the marquee erectors had laid with such care only yesterday. Angel staggered sideways and one of her heels stabbed through the marzipan Mercedes.

‘What the fuck,’ she demanded, enraged.

Over on the other side of the marquee, she saw Lenny being piled into by the two burly policemen. They were shoving him to the ground. He was shouting abuse at them. The happy revellers stood frozen in disbelief.

Lenny was being nicked.

Angel was trying to free her heel from the cake decoration. It wouldn’t come. Giving up, she kicked off the shoes and stormed across the tent, barefoot.

‘What the hell’s going on?’ she yelled.

Nobody answered her.

One of the coppers said: ‘Mr Leonard Axelford, you are under arrest. Customs and Excise.’

Now they were reading Lenny his rights.

Lenny looked up at Angel as she stood there in shock.

‘I didn’t do it,’ he said.

123

Regular as clockwork, Fiona Maguire was back for her weekly visit. Farmer sighed as he watched her come in, watched Paddy do the business, paying careful attention to everything she said. This process usually took about half an hour, but this time was different; Fiona seemed on a knife edge, her eyes flicking sideways again and again, fastening on Farmer tucked away in his office.

Farmer kept his head down, made calls, read statements, concentrated on what he was doing but it was getting increasingly difficult to do that because there was shouting coming from out in the main office. He had to look up. Fiona was on her feet, yelling at Paddy, who was still seated. She looked crazy. Her mouth was foam-flecked, spittle flying as she shouted at him. Then her head turned and it was as if a switch had been flicked. She stared at Farmer with rage in her eyes. Then she picked up her chair.

Paddy lunged to his feet. Other people too were starting toward Fiona, arms outstretched. Fiona ignored them all. She tore at Farmer’s half-glassed office door with the chair held above her head and smashed the chair into it.

Farmer ducked as glass shattered. Shards flew all over him and his desk. Out in the main office, Fiona dropped the chair and started scrabbling at the door to his office, her face a mask of frenzy. Instead of turning the handle, she grabbed at the rim where the glass had been and was trying to scramble through it. Horrified, Farmer saw blood start to ooze from her hands but she seemed not to even notice.