Free Freeing Grace by Charity Norman Page B

in Basingstoke with a wife and kids and a sofa to think about.’ I shivered. ‘Might as well be dead.’
    The kettle was hissing merrily away on the stove. Lucy and Perry exchanged a glance, and I had a nasty feeling I’d said the wrong thing again. Perhaps Perry was born and bred in Basingstoke.
    ‘This chicken thing is great,’ I burbled.
    ‘Thank you. It’s very easy.’
    I smiled. ‘You sound like my mother. She always swears things are easy, then spurts out a recipe you’d need a degree in catering to understand. It’s a funny thing though, because she hates cooking. She told me once: she hates cooking and gardening and sewing, and she always has. But she’s done nothing else her whole life.’
    Perry seemed to be deep in thought. Matt filled up his plate and started refuelling all over again: probably had the munchies, after that whacky baccy.
    All of a sudden, Perry stirred. ‘You know, Jake, I believe you could do me a service.’
    ‘Er . . . ?’
    He trickled another couple of inches into my glass. ‘Yes, you could. I have a small difficulty, and I think you can help. It’ll be . . . entertaining for you.’
    ‘Sure. What’s the problem?’ I imagined that, perhaps, the light bulb in the bathroom had blown, and Perry didn’t like to climb the stepladder.
    ‘Lucy will have mentioned my wife, Deborah?’
    Mrs Harrison, the harridan? ‘Um, a bit. All good.’
    Matt guffawed before making a grab for thirds. His father ignored him.
    ‘Deborah was last heard of in Mombasa, but she hasn’t made contact for some time. That in itself isn’t so very surprising. She’ll be busy, and communication can be tricky in these remote areas. But we need to find her. Urgently.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Do you mind if I don’t tell you that? It’s a private, family thing.’
    ‘Is someone ill?’ It seemed the most likely explanation.
    Perry held up his hands and shook his head. ‘You could be in Mombasa within days. It’s not a large community; I’m sure you’ll pick up her trail.’
    ‘Why don’t you go, then?’
    Matt laughed again, until he choked. Lucy glared at him as though wishing she had a remote control button with which to turn him off. No one answered me, so I tried again.
    ‘Seriously, why don’t you go, Perry? I mean, isn’t it a bit unusual, sending a total stranger to look for your wife?’
    He got to his feet and started collecting the plates, and I stood up to help. I really thought he might be joking. Matt was still chortling away to himself.
    Eventually, Perry shut the dishwasher and leaned against the stove. His cheeks were quite sunken, I thought, and he stared with a little too much intensity. It was a bit creepy, to be honest. But then he smiled, and his eyes looked wearier than ever, and somehow he had me on his side. For the first time, I could imagine him loping across the desert: the exhausted, charismatic officer whose men would follow him anywhere.
    ‘I’d like to go myself, Jake, but I simply can’t afford the time. I’ve several deadlines coming up. I also have Matt at home.’
    I was shaking my head, trying to make it work properly. It was spinning a bit. I felt as though I’d been dropped into a play but didn’t know the lines.
    The telephone rang, and Perry exited stage left to answer it. Once he’d gone, Lucy leaned towards me over the back of her chair.
    ‘Please, Jake. I know it’s a lot to ask, but you’ve absolutely nothing better to do.’
    ‘Thanks.’
    ‘Well, you haven’t.’
    I pondered for a moment. ‘I thought you said this was typical of your stepmother, and you hoped a lion had got her in the Serengeti?’
    ‘You know damned well I wasn’t serious about the lion.’
    ‘No, I don’t know. Have you tried the Kenyan police?’
    She gestured impatiently. ‘Do try to be realistic.’
    ‘It’s not me that’s unrealistic. It’s you lot. You’re off your bloody trolleys. This is why you got me down here, isn’t it?’ The penny had finally