‘That was quick. Thank you so much. Berry Bros are a total lifesaver.’
‘Who’s Berry Bros?’
Amy frowned. ‘You’re not from the vintner’s?’
‘No, miss. I’m Gerald, from the post room. Josie came and got me at the pub. Said you needed a parcel that was down there. Sorry if it’s caused any bother, only we tend to knock off at six.’
‘No, that’s fine, Gerald,’ said Amy, too happy to see the package to care about the whys and wherefores. ‘Can you help me to get it open?’
Gerald instantly produced a Stanley knife and expertly slit the cardboard. Amy pushed aside the packing material and pulled out a polished wooden box.
Gosh, that’s lovely, she thought. You didn’t need to know anything about woodwork to appreciate that it was a thing of exquisite beauty, the walnut panels positively glowing, the inlaid country scene – she recognised William’s house from the one occasion she and David had been invited to a party there – elegant and stylish. Amy had never smoked a cigar in her life, but she thought she might consider taking it up if it meant you got to own heirlooms like this.
When she looked up, Gerald had already disappeared, taking the cardboard with him. Clearly Douglas had guessed what had happened, because he was already tapping a pen against the side of his glass and shushing the room to silence. ‘I think it was Gandhi who once said . . .’
Douglas’s speech was mercifully short, William’s heartfelt and funny. The presentation of the humidor brought tears to the old man’s eyes, which he covered by generously announcing that champagne was on him, causing an unseemly rush to the bar. Until that point it had only been free wine and soft drinks, thanks to a decree from Denton Scoles.
‘How on earth did you do it?’ asked Amy, clapping as William stepped off the makeshift podium.
Josie shrugged modestly. ‘Well, I’ve spent a lot of time in the post room the past week, dropping things off for Janice or picking them up for the beauty department, and the post boys are pretty friendly. Anyway, one of them told me they don’t mix with the writers in the Printroom; instead they drink in the Wellington on Cole Street, so I ran around there and grabbed Gerald.’ She smiled to herself.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘Oh, he didn’t want to come. He said . . .’ She paused, then looked at Amy. ‘Well, he said some rude things about Genesis management.’
‘So how did you get him to do it?’
‘I think I told him that you’d crush his nuts, then stuff his pension down the toilet.’
Amy burst out laughing. ‘Now that’s initiative.’
Josie smiled shyly for a moment, then looked over Amy’s shoulder, mouthing, ‘Wow!’ Amy smiled: Carlo, it had to be.
‘Miss Shepherd,’ said the tall Italian, walking towards her carrying a wicker basket. ‘I cannot find Juliet, but I know this matter is urgent.’
Amy put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. ‘The crisis has been averted, Carlo. My assistant helped locate William’s original present.’
‘That is good news,’ he said, looking crestfallen.
‘But I’d love to see what treasures you have brought us,’ she added.
Carlo laughed, placed the basket on a table and opened it with a flourish, pleased that his efforts were at least about to be recognised.
‘For your consideration,’ he said, picking out the items one by one. ‘For the wine and spirits connoisseur, a Pol Roger Cuvée Sir Winston Churchill and this bottle of twenty-five-year-old malt. For the recent retiree, I have a cashmere blanket in a soft putty shade, perfect for lounging around the house on winter days. And finally – and my favourite, I will admit – a wristwatch. Swiss-made. One of the standout pieces at the Baselworld jewellery fair . . .’
He shut the basket and his face fell in disappointment.
‘What a shame none of it will be finding a good home tonight.’
‘You have excelled yourself, Carlo, and I know William would have loved everything here,’ Amy said, smiling. ‘However, you are wrong about none of it finding a good home. I’d love to take the champagne.’
Carlo looked delighted as he handed over the bottle, which Amy insisted on paying for.
‘This is for you,’ she said, giving it to Josie as the Italian disappeared into the crowd. ‘Thank you for being such a star.’
Chapter 5
Note to self, thought Amy, gripping the white leather arm rests. Injections hurt.