Crazy Paving Read Free Page A

have made a success of your life and have much to be proud of.
    He headed for the bank of telephones in the corner of the station, the ones tucked out of sight. There were some in the middle of the concourse, but he couldn’t risk being spotted by any
of his staff who might be running late. In the alcove, he took out his phonecard and a small book bound in plum coloured leather which he kept tucked in the inside pocket of his jacket. He had one
or two calls to make before he got to the office.
    The first person to greet him as he stepped out of the lift was his new surveyor, William Bennett.
    ‘Richard,’ William observed. Then stopped.
    ‘Yes?’ said Richard as he walked down the open-plan department, William in pursuit.
    ‘Sutton Street,’ said William. ‘Compulsory purchase order on Rosewood Cottage. Need to talk. Might be a problem.’
    Richard grunted. By now they had reached his office. He slung his briefcase on his desk, opened it and began unloading sheafs of paper.
    ‘Had to take the Sports Ground specs home over the weekend,’ he muttered. ‘No overtime in this job you know.’
    William looked a little frustrated. ‘I really do think we need to sort this out,’ he said. ‘I thought it would be straightforward after the Royal Assent. To be honest, Richard,
I’m not sure. I need some back-up.’
    William Bennett was twenty-seven. He had worked for Richard Leather for six weeks but had already surmised that the only way to get him to do anything was to appear helpless.
    Richard was looking pleased. He came round to William’s side of the desk and slapped a fatherly hand on his shoulder. ‘Don’t worry. We’ve got the project meeting on
Friday. It will all get sorted out then.’
    Annette stepped into the office swiftly and silently and placed a cup of freshly poured black coffee on Richard’s desk. Silently, she left.
    Richard was guiding William towards the door. ‘The thing to do is to move fast, before the other side have time to get organised. They haven’t employed a solicitor or anything, have
they?’
    ‘The old couple? No, I don’t think so.’
    ‘When are you going round?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘Well, I tell you what.’ Richard dropped his voice. ‘Pop round, next week maybe, after the meeting, do a few measurements and have a sniff about, okay?’
    By now they had reached the door. William looked at Richard, confused. Richard smiled, winked, and closed the door in his face.
    When Richard turned from the door, his smile had disappeared.
    It happened at eleven sixteen a.m. Annette knew because as soon as she heard the blast, she checked her watch. It was a deep, unmistakable boom, short but sonorous, as if a
roll of thunder had been compressed into a box and then burst free. The window next to her rattled. For a minute there was silence, then the sirens began. Opposite her Joan looked up, her gaze
questioning. Annette nodded, then reached for the phone.
    It rang twice before her mother answered. ‘Yes?’
    ‘Mum, it’s me. I thought I’d better ring. A bomb’s gone off. I’m fine.’
    ‘A bomb?’
    ‘Yes. There’s been an explosion. It rattled the windows of our office.’
    ‘Are you at work? Are you okay? How near was it?’
    ‘I don’t know. Whitehall, maybe. It’s hard to tell. It seemed quite distant.’
    ‘I’ll put the radio on. Did you get my note about the jumper?’
    ‘Mum I can’t talk now, I’m at work. I just wanted to let you know, so you wouldn’t hear it on the news and worry . . .’
    Raymond came round the corner. He was the senior surveyor and Richard’s deputy. He wore a bow-tie. He wrote his draft memos in green ink and complained to Annette that young surveyors
these days didn’t understand the past participle. ‘Was that what I thought it was?’ he asked.
    ‘Yes,’ replied Annette.
    ‘I’d hang them,’ spat Raymond. ‘They should all be hanged. Every one of them. Bloody Irish.’
    Annette returned to the Schedule of