Day 99

“A toast!” Sophie picked up her beer. Her eyes were glinting and her lips were smirking, like a fox lounging beyond the chicken pen and just noticing that the farmer has not closed the catch.

Pat lifted her glass and they clinked. “To what?”

“Well, to the man who made all this possible. Win-win! To Mr Patrick Jones. The late Mr Jones.” Sophie grinned and swigged back the golden beer in one go.

A brief picture of Patrick flashed across Pat’s eyes. That short dark hair and far away look. He was far away now.

“So, ‘widow’ (she emphasised and laughed) of the late Mr Jones dear, where will you go? Oh, and by the way don’t start flashing the cash straight away. Always best to hole up somewhere before moving into the area you have chosen to live – get the story right. Practise the lines. Be sure of your ground. Some people are too bloody nosey by half.”

“I don’t know. I’m going to Scotland for a couple of weeks. Then I’ll decide, once the money has cleared.”

“Good idea. Lie low. Stay out of circulation, don’t do anything rash. Re-invent yourself. Pick a better name than Pat Jones!” Sophie laughed as she carefully folded the cheque and kissed it.

Pat nodded and picked up her cheque and stared at the noughts.

“So, that’s it then. This is goodbye. Only three people know that you were never married to the lovely Mr Jones and should not get this money – and one of them is dead!” Sophie laughed but Pat scowled. Sophie or Nicky – that was in bad taste. Patrick crossed her mind again and she felt a twinge of guilt.