The Whiskerly Sisters (30 page)

In fairness, Blisters Munro had done his best to remain impartial through the proceedings. He had been informed that there would have to be an enquiry and that he would have the opportunity to defend himself but, in the interim, Blisters had told him that he had no choice but to suspend him on full pay pending investigation and possible future tribunal. He had then had to suffer the added humiliation of being escorted to his cubicle and asked to remove his personal belongings. Blisters himself had escorted him to his car where he had told him not to return without written permission. It was suggested that he might like to have Union representation, but he would be left to organise that for himself.

Bryn covered his face with his hands and groaned inwardly. With considerable effort, he pulled himself together and started the car. “
What the hell
,” he decided suddenly. He would look upon the whole thing as a few weeks’ unexpected paid leave. He drove out of the car park in the direction of the golf course.
May as well enjoy my bloody self
, he thought sagely.

Try as he might to remain positive, the worry stayed with him. Like an invisible piece of chewing gum stuck to his shoe, it seemed to follow him wherever he went, causing him to lose his normal jaunty step and walk carefully as if there were danger everywhere. He felt he was being treated very unfairly. He couldn’t believe that anyone with half a brain would waste their valuable time on such a load of crap. However, it seemed that sexual misconduct was being taken very seriously in the Fire Brigade these days and, unfortunately for Bryn, Commander Jones had decided to focus his very considerable and sharp brain on the matter.

Over the next few weeks, one question continued to haunt him. What the hell had he done to deserve this?

Meanwhile the Whiskerlies were beside themselves. Everything had come together with magical precision. Over the previous few months, each of the girls had attended one of Fat Taff’s lectures. At the end, they had made a point of waiting behind for him to finish packing up and then asking an incidental question about his presentation or about fire precaution in general. They had been careful to keep to the back of any queue so that the hall had usually emptied by the time their turn came. If he even showed the slightest interest in them, they flirted with him coquettishly and then hurried home to write a different version of events.

The final coup had been to coax the young janitor at one of the local village halls to make a statement saying he had seen Fat Taff touch Izza inappropriately. It had been fortunate that Jax and Izza had turned up early enough to witness the fireman giving the youth a piece of his mind about the state of the hall. It had not been difficult for the very lovely Izza to leave her seat at the back to go into the kitchen and begin a conversation with the lad whilst Fat Taff droned on about combustibles. The pair had hit it off immediately so that when the not-as-shy-as-he-looks caretaker asked for her number, Izza didn’t hesitate.

At the end of the evening, Izza waited until the very last minute before shyly approaching the trainer with a question about fire blankets. Making certain that Fat Taff was facing the front of the hall, she was able to pick the exact moment to make her move. As Jax appeared from the side room at the back of the hall with the unwitting witness a few paces behind, Izza suddenly slapped the Welshman very hard across the side of his face, pushed him away from her and fled down the aisle into the arms of her mother. She even managed to throw the word ‘pervert’ over her shoulder at the confused man as she legged it down the hall.

There followed a mumbled apology from the very puzzled trainer, a little awkward laughter and a smoothing over of the whole incident. It was agreed that there might have been a bit of a misunderstanding. Bryn had been at a loss to know what he had done wrong, but the young girl had looked so distressed that even he came to believe that he must have unwittingly alarmed her somehow. He apologised as best he could, but then made the mistake of trying to pat her hand consolingly. Jax had snatched it away and told him fiercely to leave her daughter alone. Chagrined, he had grabbed his stuff and left as fast as his rotund body would let him. The whole sorry incident had been watched with a great deal of interest and no small measure of spite by young Callum, the hall caretaker, still steaming from his earlier dressing down. It had not been hard to convince the boy to make a statement about something he had not actually seen. One look into Izza’s enormously sad, melting dark brown eyes and he was more than happy to kick the fat bastard’s arse into another universe. In fact, to his surprise, he found that he was ready to do anything at all for her so Izza graciously let him. From her point of view, it was a double whammy. Not only had she helped deal with Tiff’s tormentor, she had pulled, for Christ’s sake. It was high fives all round at the next meeting of the Whiskerlies.

Even so, the girls had not finished with Fat Taff.

Everyone agreed that the second part of Operation Swansea would take a considerable bit of planning and a certain amount of careful interrogation of the increasingly malleable Malcolm. There would need to be a dry run, together with the competent use of stopwatches and mobile phones. With a bit of luck, they might even be able to attack on one front while teeing up another. The girls congratulated themselves on their ability to multi-task and opened another bottle of wine in celebration.

It was agreed that Tiff would borrow the right gear from Charley and, because she was the only other member of the group with the appropriate outfit, it was decided that Jax would accompany her to the killing ground.

“Scratching post might be a better turn of phrase,” Bex suggested wittily to the amusement of everyone present.

Fresna would park in a convenient spot outside the perimeter fence and act as a link to Charley, who would park in a lay-by a few hundred yards to the south. It was agreed not to involve either Bex or Izza in this sting since both had a high chance of being recognised. Izza was delighted since it meant another date with the handsome Callum. For her part, Bex promised to try to think positive thoughts throughout the day, but the chances of that were slim since, amazingly, Malcolm had agreed to go out with the Boys from the Beemer Club that very same day so naturally she would be taking advantage of his absence to spend the day with David.

Towards the close of the meeting, Charley asked if anyone had seen or heard from Sly. He had not been to class for over a month and he was not answering his mobile. The group shook their heads and spent several minutes wondering if anything was wrong. In the end, they decided he was an adult and would be in touch when he was good and ready. Charley frowned, feeling the decision was wrong. He was a close friend and she felt instinctively that something was very amiss. She decided to take it upon herself to seek him out, but right now, there was work to do.

At ten o’clock on the appointed Sunday morning, the girls swung into action. Despite the fact that the dummy run had gone well, it had thrown up a couple of glitches that would need to be dealt with on the spot. Tiff’s hands were clammy and shaking slightly as she waited for Jax to pick her up. If things went wrong, she had a lot to lose. Given her position, if she was caught, they would no doubt throw the book at her, rip of her regalia and kick her out of the force. Still, she had faced disaster before so she was prepared to face it again. However, this time, she was buoyed up by her friends, who had no intention of letting her fail.

For the third time in as many minutes, she checked that the corkscrew was in its rightful place in her back pocket and tried to breathe steadily. She jumped at a sudden noise and then realised it was her friend sounding the horn. Grabbing hold of her bag, she took a gulp of air and ran out of the door. It was time to face her nemesis.

Well nearly!

The first part of the operation was easy. All they had to do was follow the herd and try not to lag too far behind. They did not want to attract any unwanted attention so, until they got where they wanted to be, they played as quiet a game as their inexperience would allow. The fun would start once they reached hole number seven, which bordered the car park. As they approached the tee, they would be in full view of Fresna, who would alert Charley to get into position. They would have fifteen minutes in which to strike.

Four hundred yards to the south, Charley was listening to Classic FM whilst leafing through the current edition of Cosmopolitan. She felt relaxed and comfortable about her part in the proceedings. Over the past few months, she had become something of an expert at this and had no misgivings about what she was about to do. She had dressed carefully, managing to look both classically elegant yet slightly sluttish at one and the same time. Her clothes were expensive, her heels high and her skirt short. Her mobile rang three times, signalling the off. It was time to rev up her car and get on with it.

Smoothly, she put the car into gear and drove towards the golf club, bringing her car neatly to a stop across the entrance to the car park, immediately gaining the attention of the young guard on duty. Getting out of the car, she took care to show more than a glimpse of sleek, silk clad thigh. She straightened up, flicking her long chestnut hair carelessly over her neat, lightly muscled shoulders, thus creating a look of subtle abandon. Knowing she was being watched by the astonished young man in the booth in front of her, she smiled winningly and walked almost casually towards him and yet with all the cunning of a cat stalking a mouse. Fixing her eyes on her prey, she shrugged helplessly. She was lost, she explained, her seductive looks continuing to engage his interest. The young man followed her willingly to her car where together they discussed the failed technology of her satnav, hunted for the right page on the roadmap she kept in the net behind the front passenger seat and debated the potential routes she might take. In all, she kept the poor boy talking for just over fifteen minutes, all of the time acutely aware of her body language and his and making sure to show him just enough cleavage, just enough curve and just enough leg to keep him totally engrossed. At no time did she look into the car park spread before her. At no time did she allow the attendant’s attention on her to wander. Her goal was to keep his eyes glued on her and she did it with sickening ease. Just as she had come to the decision that she had given her partners in crime more than enough time to carry out their part of the plan, there was a noise behind her as some punter tried to access the car park. The man concerned gave two short blasts of his horn. She turned, frowning, swiftly assessing the situation. Deciding her next move almost immediately, she acknowledged the driver with a helpless gesture, thanked the lust-struck young car park attendant, got quickly into her car, reversed carefully and drove away. Almost in a world of his own, and believing himself half in love, the smitten young man returned to his booth where he sat fantasising about the possibility of repeatedly screwing the fabulous older woman that had been sent by the Gods to brighten his miserable day. As a consequence, he was completely oblivious to all that had been happening behind his back.

For their part, Tiffany and Jax had reached the car park slightly later than planned due to some idiot in front of them landing in a bunker and spending too much time trying to decide which club he wanted to use to chip himself out.

“I’ll give him a flaming club in a minute,” fumed the impatient Tiff, waiting to tee off. “Right over the top of his damn skull. Bloody get on with it, man,” she muttered.

When they finally reached the seventh hole, matters improved. Jax mistimed her swing to perfection, causing it to drop into the rough just short of the north end of a row of cars lining the car park. Tiff fared no better. As the seemingly hopeless pair of golfers headed off in search of their balls, they took a little time to scan the course. The foursome ahead had almost reached the next green several hundred yards away. They were too intent on their game to look back. There was a gap behind them since no one had yet reached the sixth hole. The two women walked causally towards the cars, swinging their clubs as if looking for Tiff’s lost ball. They dropped down into the car park and spotted the right vehicle almost at once.

There was no time to be lost. Tiff crossed the car park quickly and dropped out of sight behind a magnificent black Porsche. As she did so, she heard a car horn blast impatiently from the other end of the car park. It was swiftly followed by another blast. Tiff looked back towards Jax crouching in the rough at the edge of the car park. She signalled frantically at her friend to get out of sight and then backed away. Cautiously, Tiff peered over the boot of the Porsche towards the front of the car park where Charley was taking her time reversing across its entrance to make way for the impatient driver of a white BMW.

“Shit,” she thought, trying to stamp out the panic that was flaring in her chest. She looked frantically around her for an escape but there was none. Of all the rotten timing! What was she supposed to do now?

With the white car beginning to make its way into the car park, Tiff took the only course of action available to her. She simply dived beneath the body of the Porsche and froze. She hardly dared breathe as the car pulled up beside her. She watched as a pair of brogues got out of the driver’s side and made its way to the back of the car. She heard the boot open. Presumably, whoever it was, was removing his clubs. There was a slamming sound and then the retreating crunch of gravel underfoot as the golfer strode off in the direction of the clubhouse. Tiff waited another long five minutes before carefully poking her face out from beneath the car. She checked around her. She saw Jax giving her the thumbs up and assumed the all clear. She hauled herself from under the car and squatted beside the driver’s door. For a few seconds, she hung her head in relief and brought her breathing back to normal.

Taking the corkscrew from her back pocket, she scratched a large heart across the entire width of the driver’s door. What Fat Taff would think of the strange message, and the tiny drawing of cat’s whiskers inscribed within the heart and sent to him on behalf of the Whiskerly Sisters, she would never know and she didn’t care.