Page 20 of Hooked On The One That Got Away (Miss Lovelock’s Agency for Broken Hearts #3)

Chapter Twenty

Monday came too fast, and then the rest of the week crawled by.

Willow and Charlie had agreed not to contact each other until Charlie gave the okay.

Willow decided she’d done her duty in the dead fish part of the river, so swam every morning in the stretch up to the lock.

Then she busied herself at work, while constantly refreshing her local news sites to see if anything came up that was to do with sewage dumping.

The closest she got was a dispute where one neighbour accused the other’s cat of crapping in their prize-winning marrow patch.

The headline was CAT-ASS-TROPHY and would not be in line for a Press Award.

Tuesday should have been pub night, but Maeve called in a rain check. She was cagey about it, too.

‘Have you got a date with that barman?’ Willow asked her straight out.

‘Not yet,’ said Maeve. ‘But I’m hot on the trail.’

Following the scent of brimstone. Willow wondered if her friend knew what she was doing and then decided that wasn’t fair.

Maeve trusted Willow and wanted her to be happy , so Willow should do the same.

Maeve could also wrap all of her advertising clients around her little finger without even trying, so a possibly demonic entity would prove a rare worthy challenge.

On Wednesday, Harvey sent her proofs of the quarterly magazine to check.

Willow had kept her word and not mentioned the subject of environmental activism again, despite being tempted to do so at least once a minute.

She even searched online for local people whose surnames could feasibly have something to do with pigs and found way too many people called Hogg, Hoggard, Piggott and even Piguet.

Willow, of course, image searched every single one, but with no luck.

No solid, ex-military type with a well-ironed shirt.

Thursday, she decided to return to her old swimming spot and see whether the swans still wanted to kill her.

She peered around the willow trunk but could see neither swans nor traces of a nest. Perhaps bloody Geillis had planted the birds there?

One day, Willow would summon the courage to ask her.

For now, she’d hide her car keys in the hollow and thankfully retire the pink swim buoy.

Friday, and Willow could stand it no longer. Charlie had said a week, and it was more than a week now! But what could she do – phone him and berate him for missing his deadline? She’d have to be patient. If it killed her. Which it felt like it might.

Four o’clock and Willow was half dead already. Then her phone pinged. A text from Maeve. BBC right now! SHIT HITTING FAN!

Willow fired up her browser and found the BBC site.

First story was under the headline: WATER COMPANY UNDER OFFICIAL SCRUTINY .

There was a video. Willow hit play. And saw Charlie, speaking on behalf of the water company as their external communications manager.

He looked handsome and amazingly calm, as he delivered the company’s official statement, which in words a weasel would find insincere said that the company had nothing to hide and would welcome the official regulator’s investigation into their practices.

The company, according to Charlie, expected to be fully exonerated.

Then the video cut to a representative of the regulator, who laid out the complaints against the company, and made it clear that this was one of the most egregious breaches of public trust in recent history.

Then it cut to a gleeful-looking reporter, who knew they’d just been handed a ratings bonanza on a plate.

Ping. Another text from Maeve. Hz Charlie really sold his soul?? A bit rich, thought Willow, coming from a demon fancier.

No! she texted back. But keep schtum!

Maeve sent back a GIF of someone zipping their mouth, with an actual zip. Then another GIF of Kermit the Frog waving frantically. Then a text: PUB NOW!!!????

Willow sighed. Clearly, Maeve would not rest until she knew all. Before she could reply, her phone pinged again, and Willow almost did a Kermit the Frog herself. Charlie!

His text read: Fell on sword & resigned. Need drink. And you xxx

Willow texted back: Oak and Whale in 15. Prepare 4 Maeve.

Fuck was Charlie’s succinct reply. Then: OK . Will buy armour on way.

Friday was the pub’s busiest night, but once again, Maeve had managed to grab their usual booth. Does she charm people into giving it up , Willow wondered? Or is she just ridiculously lucky?

Willow was glad she’d started making more of an effort with her clothes, though her pleated green midi-dress and matching sandals were no match for Maeve’s form-fitting shift in cream lace and orange kitten-heeled slingbacks.

Geillis was at the bar – and so was Maeve’s snake-hipped demon-bloke, Willow saw. But then, nothing should surprise her these days, should it?

‘His name’s Xander,’ said Maeve, with more than a hint of smugness. ‘His father’s a Lord.’

‘Of darkness?’ said Willow, amused.

‘Close,’ Maeve replied. ‘North Yorkshire.’

Then she leaned across the booth, and hissed, ‘Now, tell me about Charlie !’ in a stage whisper audible to the entire pub. ‘What gives ?’

Willow’s eye was caught by a man standing in the pub doorway, looking around the crowded room with the weary despair of someone who’d had a very long day. She waved until he finally, and with obvious relief, spotted her.

‘Why don’t you ask him yourself?’ Willow told Maeve.

‘ Char-leee !’

Maeve leapt to her feet and threw her arms around Charlie, who mouthed ‘Help’ over her shoulder at Willow.

‘Come! Sit!’ Maeve pulled him into the booth beside her, and said, ‘Now, what on earth are you doing shilling for those water-defiling scoundrels?’

Before Charlie could reply, Maeve’s bloke appeared. Judging by the expression on his face, Willow guessed he’d come to check that she and the handsome man Maeve had just enthusiastically hugged were nothing more than old friends.

‘Xander!’ said Maeve. ‘You know Willow. And this is Charlie!’

As usual, Xander paid Willow no attention, but fixed Charlie with a stare that went several miles beyond hostile.

‘You were on TV,’ Xander said to him. ‘Fucking hell, man, have you no shame?’

‘I don’t have to explain myself to you.’ Charlie sounded calm. Willow could tell he was anything but.

‘Oh, you don’t, do you?’ Xander was spoiling for a fight.

‘You don’t have to explain why your company has deliberately been dumping shit – actual shit – in our waterways for years.

And for the simple fucking reason that they chose to take money for upgrades and pay it out in fat bonuses, instead?

Sure, man, no need to explain any of that! ’

Xander all but spat on the table in front of Charlie. ‘If I were you, I couldn’t show my face around decent people again. If this was my pub, I’d kick you out on your corrupt, evil arse.’

Willow had had enough.

‘Shut up !’ she hissed at Xander. ‘Charlie’s not working for them, he’s working against them!

He’s the one who’s collected all the inside evidence!

It’s because of his courage and persistence that this investigation is happening at all !

Charlie’s a secret whistleblower, you self-righteous shithead! You should be thanking him!’

The stunned silence that followed her little speech was broken by Charlie himself.

‘Willow,’ he said. ‘How the fuck did you know?’