THE HEART OF DANGER Read Free Page B

the bloom was not quite opened and the stem was wrapped in
    tinfoil. She craned forward and looked through the porthole window
    and
    saw the low grey cloud and the puddles on the tarmac and made a small
    joke about the weather. The hostess offered a hand in help and her
    eyes showed her sympathy. Again the smile, as if the concern of the
    hostess were quite unnecessary, out of place and not required, and
    she
    stood and shrugged into her raincoat. She looked behind her, once
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    and
    briefly, to make sure she had left nothing. She laid the scarf over
    her head, then loosely knotted it under her chin. She had the rose.
    It
    was a small gesture, but she laid her hand quickly on the hostess's
    sun-coloured arm, to show her gratitude. She could cope, no problem,
    but the concern was appreciated.

    She was led by the hostess down the length of the aisle to the cabin
    door.

    The pilot, coming from the cockpit, ducked his head to her in
    embarrassment.

    The purser shook her hand, said something into his chest that she
    could
    not understand, but she smiled back at him warmly, the sham smile.

    There was an official from the Airport Authority at the hatch of the
    aircraft. She thought that he had probably done it before. He had
    no
    smile for her and no handshake, and no anodyne small talk. He took
    her
    grip bag. He unlocked an outside door at the start of the extended
    tunnel from the aircraft and gestured that she should follow him.
    The
    rain and the wind caught her, trapped her skirt against her thighs
    and
    billowed her raincoat. She followed him down the steep staircase,
    skipping the last step onto the apron. The handlers had already
    started to unload the baggage from the cargo hatch, and they took
    the
    suitcases and string-tied cardboard boxes from the hatch and threw
    them
    carelessly onto the open trailer. There was a young woman from
    Customs
    edging towards her, unsure, and pushing the documentation under her
    nose. She signed with the pen she was offered and the ink ran as
    the
    rain dripped on the paper. Two men in black suits, the one working
    his
    jaw round spent chewing gum and the other cradling in the palm of
    his
    hand a dead briar pipe, waited statuejstill beside the hearse. There
    were no more suitcases, no more cardboard boxes coming from the hatch.
    The men from the hearse moved forward as if to a signal. She heard
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    the
    noise of the scraping from inside the cargo hold.

    The coffin was of grey sheet metal and it was heavy and awkward to
    manoeuvre in the confined space.

    The pipe was pocketed, the chewing gum was spat out.

    The coffin was lifted clear. She stepped forward. She laid the
    single
    rose on the coffin's lid beside the documentation that was fastened
    to
    it with adhesive tape. The wind seemed to come fiercer off the tarmac
    and she walked beside the coffin with her fingers steadying the rose
    until they were sheltered by the length of the hearse. The back door
    closed on the coffin and she could see her rose through the
    rain-blurred windows. It was driven away.

    Was she being met? No, she had her own car ... Did she need a lift?
    Yes, that would be very kind, to the long-stay car park .. .

    Mary Braddock had brought her daughter, her Dorrie, home.

    "I said we could go out and get something in a pub. I said I'd have a
    go at knocking something up. She wouldn't hear of it. Said
    something
    about being too tired to go out, and something about me needing a
    proper meal. She was into her kitchen and putting it all together."

    "She's so strong, she's a grand woman."

    "Sorry, Arnold, but it's a facade. It was all over her face, she'd been weeping, the poor darling, all the way home. I couldn't go with
    her, you see. Well, you know that .. . The contract is eleven million
    sterling, it's got to be in day after tomorrow. She said, anyway,
    quite definite, that she was going and going alone. Damn the little
    bitch ... I married Mary, not her bloody daughter ... You'll