Free Staging Death by Judith Cutler

thumb pointed to his sanctum.
    ‘Maybe his premium bond came up.’ Mine wouldn’t, since I’d had to sell them all years ago, during my sherry period. So I applied myself to work, tapping the number Greg had given me. This time the phone rang loud and clear.
    ‘Yes?’
    I ignored the unwelcoming tone of the stony syllable and put my brightest smile into my voice. ‘Mr Gunter? Vena here, from Burford’s Estate Agents. I’m just making a courtesy call withregard to the properties—’ I hated the jargon but Greg insisted on it, and since his office door had opened a smidgen I’d better do as I was told.
    With a few brief and effective syllables, Gunter cut the call. Rolling my eyes and dropping my jaw, I held up the handset to Claire and pointed. I replaced it quietly.
    ‘Not the right moment?’ she asked.
    ‘From what he said, I don’t think any moment is the right one. Wow.’ I mouthed the foul expletives, as if not saying them aloud somehow sanitised them.
    ‘I wish it didn’t feel so personal when someone swears like that,’ she said. ‘Though I suppose it’s different for you, being an actress.’
    I puzzled over the logic for a second, and then shook my head. ‘You mean I’m used to having people yell foul things at me on stage? It doesn’t quite work like that.’ I raised a shaking hand. ‘See, it’s still upsetting.’
    ‘What’s upsetting?’ Greg materialised, unable to hide a grin as big as the Cheshire Cat’s all over his face.
    ‘Being sworn at big time when you’re just trying to do your job,’ I said, with a sniffle I freely admit derived more from RADA than Gunter’s obscenities. There was no point in playing the stoic when Greg was around. He took everything at face value, and if I’d told him I was fine, he wouldn’thave thought I was being brave, he’d simply have believed I was indeed fine. ‘I told you I thought there was something dodgy,’ I said, swallowing hard enough for the movement to be seen from the back of the gallery. ‘Normal people don’t speak to other normal people like that, do they?’
    Claire rubbed her thumb against her fingers. ‘Very rich people sometimes do.’ She stopped short, no doubt fearing that Greg might take it as a criticism.
    I didn’t argue, thinking of Allyn’s non-appearance the night before. That had told me how she rated me as clearly as if she’d dictated a memo for her secretary to send me.
    Greg’s smile, which had made a token disappearance, now returned in all its majesty. ‘Some very rich people do nice things,’ he said. ‘They buy a house that’s been on our books since Noah sailed his boat up the cut!’
    Delight and incomprehension battled it out on Claire’s face. I was too busy throwing my arms round Greg’s neck to explain that in moments of emotion he lapsed into Black Country idiom, as well as accent.
    ‘Which one?’ I asked, when my sisterly duty had been done.
    ‘The Grove. Only the bloody Grove.’
    ‘That’s been hanging round for over a year,’ Claire observed.
    ‘That’s what I just said, wench! Any road up, this bloke’s just put in an offer, on the basis of seeing it on our website.’
    ‘Which bloke?’ I asked. I didn’t think such words passed Claire’s lips.
    ‘Some fancy pop singer mate of your Toby Frensham,’ he said. ‘Cash. Just like that. The owner’s practically had his hand off, I tell you. He’ll move out next week! This guy Rivers’ lawyers have phoned me, they’ve faxed me a contract and, before you ask, Vee, the deposit has just arrived in the bank. So I think it’s time for a drop of this, don’t you?’ He dived into the kitchen and produced the bubbly and some cheap glasses we used on birthdays, at Christmas, and on days we had a sale like this.
    ‘Don’t they even want a search and survey?’ Claire asked.
    ‘I got the vendors to update their HIP, and it’s in a conservation area. His solicitor says Rivers’ll deal with any structural and other problems.