On the way home, we stopped for lunch. Simon decided to have a curry, hoping it would neutralise his transmitter—from the smell of it, he might have been right. However, the last time he had one he ended up Vindaloo half the night.
I wasn’t very hungry so just had some salad.
“I was astonished to see you charging off after that gunman, last night,” he said breaking up a poppadam.
“If I’d known it wasn’t Myrtle, I’d have run the other way.”
“I think you looked better in that dress than he did.”
“Oh, I don’t know, I think he looked sweet.”
“If he gets a chance, he won’t miss next time.”
“I’m hoping by then we’ll have sorted this nonsense. I mean, Austin Powers would have made a better job of it than Ambrose is.”
“Who’s Ambrose?” asked Simon.
“That’s Bill’s real name.”
“Ah, I think I can see why he calls himself, Bill.”
“I’m still making my mind up about whether or not I want to kill Bill.”
“Didn’t someone make a film with that as a stupid title?”
“Martin Scorcese, I think, with Uma Thurman.”
“Oh, Emma Peel, maybe it’s not such a dumb film after all.”
“There is only one Emma Peel and that was Diana Rigg.” I felt very hot all of a sudden.
“No, I feel very strange.” I got up and lurched out to the ladies, where I was violently sick, followed a couple of minutes later with the most awful stomach pains and diarrhoea. I only just made it to the loo in time—well changing ends and pulling down knickers---too much information.
I sat there my bum smarting and a horrible taste in my mouth. I really needed to clean my teeth, but my toothbrush was in my bag in the car. I managed to stand on wobbly legs and tidy myself up, then looking down into the pan spotted the capsule floating in amongst the...you know. I pulled the flush and watched while it disappeared down the hole. Hopefully there weren’t any more bugs on my car, so we—well, me, was free of MI-whatever tracking me.
I washed and went back out to Simon, who looked quite concerned. He stood and helped me back into my chair. “Are you sure you’re alright, you look very washed out?”
“I’ve been sick and cleaned out the other end—oh and Bill’s little pill floated away with it.”
“You were sick, it’s not radiation sickness or swine flu?”
“I think food poisoning from that sandwich is much more likely.”
“Could be, are you going to be okay to drive home?”
“Yes, I’ll be okay, but I’d really like to clean my teeth.”
“Where’s your toothbrush?”
“In my sponge bag in my case.”
“Don’t tell me, in your car?”
“Yes,” I smiled weakly.
“I suppose you’d like me to get it for you?”
“That would be very kind of you, Simon.” I smiled again and passed him my car keys.
He rose from the table and went out to the car park. I got a glass of water from the bar.
“I couldn’t be bothered to hunt for it, so I brought your case in.”
“Careful, my lappy’s in there.”
He had just placed my case on the floor when there was a terrific ‘BOOM' from outside and glass from one of the windows showered the room. Fortunately, we were standing away from it, although a couple who were near it ended up with multiple cuts. It took a moment to adjust to the shock, and I realised I was sitting on the floor and Simon had fallen over a dislodged chair. Thankfully, he wasn’t hurt.
“What the %$#k was that?” he said extricating himself from the furniture.
People were dusting themselves off. “Stay here, if it’s gas there could be another one,” I cautioned.
“Jesus,” said a male voice, “that car just exploded. It’s taken out a couple of others too.” We both rushed to the door, the remnants of my lovely VW were all over the car park and the Mondeo was damaged as well.
“Oh no,” I said as I swooned and Simon just managed to catch me. I came to, lying on a bed in a strange room. “Where am I?”
“You’re okay, Babes, I decided to rent a room for the night.”
“Your car blew up, the police are still out there. Sadly the Mondeo is a write-off too.”
“That was my daddy’s car,” I said and burst into tears.
“I know, Babes, but at least we saved your laptop.”
“Yeah,” I sobbed, “but Paddington was in my car.”
“But you weren’t. I can get you another bear.”
“I would have been dead if my tummy hadn’t played up.”
“Looks like.” He said and hugged me while I trembled in shock.
The rest of the day was spent sleeping or talking to police. It was on the verge of being considered a terrorist attack, and I had a nice chap from Special Branch come to interview me. We told him the whole story. He knew of Myrtle and wondered why she had been so unpleasant. I told him that I didn’t want to see any of them ever again, but I wanted my family back. He told me he’d make some enquiries and see if he could speed things up.
When I talked it over with Simon, neither of us could decide who’d planted the bomb and whether it had been there for some time or done while we were in the pub. We were stranded for the night and normally, we might have taken advantage of a hotel room, but that night neither of us felt much like anything at all. How James Bond and his heroines can sh@g after he’s just killed all the baddies, I don’t know.
“I called Dad while you were asleep, he’s sending transport for us tomorrow, he’s also organising some cars for you and Tom.”
“Thanks, I’m not sure I want to drive one again—did you see what was left of the driver’s seat.”
“I don’t remember seeing the driver’s seat,” he said.
“Exactly, there wasn’t one, it was completely destroyed with the blast.”
“Goodness, your arse would have been sore then.”
“Soaring, I think, in orbit around the moon.”
“I shall never be able to look at the moon in the same light again,” he said and as he held me I started to snigger.
“You silly fool,” I said quietly cuddling into him, and he laughed.
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