Finders Keepers Edie Baylis (phonics readers .TXT) 📖

Dizziness suddenly overwhelmed her. Oh, shit. No! This was them, wasn’t it? This beast of a man was something to do with those people who had broken into Dulcie’s house and killed Helen. Her eyes darted towards the massive bull-headed man with an iron grip of her arm. He wasn’t the one she’d fleetingly seen that night – she’d have recognised him, but this one was part of it. He had to be.

Teagan glanced to her right. Could she make a run for it? She hadn’t even got her phone, but she had to get away from this man and these people, whoever they were.

Continuing along the path, Teagan’s head span with unfeasible ways of changing the dreadful unfolding situation, but all hope of getting away evaporated when she realised they were heading towards a black car.

Twenty Two

LENA INSPECTED HER FRESHLY PAINTED NAILS and sipped from the bottle of vodka kept in the back compartment of her bag, wishing her nails would hurry up and dry. Gwen was on a late lunch and planned on popping to the stationers afterwards, so there was plenty of time to relax, as well as make a couple of phone calls.

Lena scowled. The swimming costume underneath her clothes had shifted right up her backside, making it more uncomfortable by the second, but she could hardly readjust it whilst her nails were still tacky. Bloody thing. She wasn’t smudging the varnish for that, despite the irritation. This whole swimming costume thing was driving her up the wall. Wearing lycra all day made her sweat like a pig, not to mention the straps chafing into her bloody shoulders all the time.

She glanced down at the ‘bump’ under the knitted jersey of her light pink dress and prodded it irritably. That was driving her nuts too and she’d have to add another layer of kitchen roll next week to keep things on track. Soon everyone would notice, not just the people she wanted to notice.

Taking another big mouthful of vodka, Lena scowled. She was gasping for a smoke, but she’d never get away with it in here – unless she said one of the dancers had been in to discuss the rotas? Yeah, sod it. That’s what she’d do.

Pulling the cigarettes and lighter from her handbag, Lena lit up and exhaled the smoke gratefully. Doing a quick mental calculation, her face fell. The wedding was still six weeks away. Christ, by that time she would supposedly be around 15 or 16 weeks’ pregnant. She’d never get away with it for that long, let alone having to abstain from having a shag.

Jonah would bound to be frustrated by that point, despite her going out of her way to ensure he was pleasured at least once a day, but he was a very hands-on man and would expect to get those hands of his on her sooner rather than later. But how could she allow that to happen whilst this was in situ?

She glared at the kitchen roll padding once again.

No, she’d most definitely have to do something about it.

Pulling her purse from her handbag, Lena extracted a small key and unlocked the bottom drawer of her desk. At least working here she had somewhere that certain things could be safely stored. Not like at home, in case Jonah came across them.

Pulling at the envelope containing the paperwork for the registry office, Lena scanned the documents for the telephone number and quickly stabbed the digits into her mobile, taking care not to catch her nails.

As the call connected, Lena glanced up at the door as a double precaution, perpetually on edge in case someone came in.

‘Hello? Hi, I’m hoping you can help me. My wedding’s booked with you for the 20th August... Yes, that’s right, this year... I was wondering if you had any cancellations? I was hoping for a sooner one... Yes, I’ll hold...’ Come on, come on. Please have a cancellation...

Lena drummed her fingers on the desk as she waited, hoping her nail varnish would withstand it. ‘Hello? Yes, I’m still here... I’d really appreciate it if you could swing something... A-A family member is unwell and we really want him to be able to see us get married and... Oh, you have?’

Lena’s heart beat frantically as she scribbled down the date, now not caring if her varnish got smudged. ‘That’s fantastic! Thank you so much!’ Her face split into a wide smile. ‘Yes, yes of course. It’s Jonah Anthony Powell and Lena Margaret O’Hara. Yes, O’Hara... that’s correct... Brilliant! Is there anything else I need to do? We don’t need to sign any more forms? Ok... No, that’s fine. Thanks again. Bye.’

Ending the call, Lena sat back in the chair. What a bit of luck. That made everything so much more palatable. It might make juggling around the venue and caterers a bit of hassle, but it shouldn’t be impossible being as money wasn’t an object.

Gleefully, she took a long celebratory swig of vodka and scrolled through her contact list. She might as well tell Uncle Ron the good news while she had the chance.

‘Hello?’ Lena cried excitedly. ‘Yes, I know! Looks the part, doesn’t it? But I’m not ringing about that. There’s been a change of plans... No, no – in a good way! The wedding’s been brought forward...’

She happily swirled around in her chair. ‘Guess when it is now... Go on, guess... No, the 20th July! Two and a half weeks’ time...! I know, it couldn’t be better... No, he doesn’t yet, but I’ll tell him tonight... You’ll still be able to come won’t you? I’ll let you know when and where as soon as everything’s confirmed ... Yes, you too... Can’t wait! Bye.’

Before Lena could spin her chair back to face the right way, Gwen made sure she quickly stepped away from the glass-panelled office door before she was spotted.

EVERY FIBRE IN TEAGAN’S BODY screamed against getting into the