Page 36 of The Question of Us (Fisher & Church #2)

It was a sobering thought. “Believe me, I know, although I think I’ve tried not to think about it.

Maybe I’ve tried too hard. I recall the exact moment I knew that if I didn’t get out of there fast, I might not survive.

” I looked between the two men. “And that’s why we have to agree to pull the plug if we get even the slightest inkling that something’s up.

No hanging around to see how things pan out.

No playing heroes.” That one was aimed at Nick.

“Neither of you will do that to me, do you understand? You will not leave me drowning in more guilt that could’ve been avoided. No bitching. No arguments. Agreed?”

Nick and Gazza shared a look, then answered in unison, “Agreed.”

Gazza pocketed his phone and opened his hands. “I propose that since tomorrow is going to be kind of a big day, how about we make sandwiches from what we have in the fridge and hit the sack early?”

No one disagreed, and we set about forming a reasonably efficient assembly line, producing whole-wheat chicken salad sandwiches with a side of healthy beetroot crisps from Gazza’s snack supply.

“What the fuck is a beetroot crisp?” Nick scrutinised the bag’s list of ingredients and made an unimpressed huff of disapproval. But to his credit, he said nothing, and as a reward, I added a little extra rotisserie chicken to his sandwich.

We were almost done when my phone buzzed with a call. I was reaching to pick it up when Nick’s went off as well. We shared a look, then held our phones out for the other to see. Shirley for me and Lizzie for Nick.

Gazza snorted. “Holy shit. Bags not to be either of you two sorry bastards.”

I caught Nick’s eye. “Didn’t take him long, did it?”

Nick grimaced. “I’m gonna kill that arsehole brother-in-law of mine.”

I huffed. “Yeah, I’m starting a line.”

Nick chuckled and took his phone to the next room while I stared at mine, still ringing in my hand.

Gazza regarded me with a shit-eating grin. “You gonna answer that?”

I shot him a pained look. “I’m still deciding. She’s old, right? She probably won’t remember why she called or even that she did.”

Gazza rolled his eyes. “Yeah, good luck with that. Suck it up, sunshine. May as well face the music now.” Something he looked far too happy about.

I blew out a breath and answered the call. “Aunt Shirley?—”

“Don’t you Aunt Shirley me, you double-crossing, fork-tongued, sad sack of a nephew. You’re lucky I don’t disinherit you on the spot.”

Whoa. “Ah... feel free to go ahead since I don’t need your money and I’m pretty sure you’ve left everything to the little ones in the family, anyway. But fork-tongued? Who the hell says that these days?”

She huffed. “Me. It fits. Duplicitous, deceiving, take your pick.”

Oh boy. “By omission only,” I tried.

“Save it for someone who cares” was her response. “My heart is too old to take this shit. Not only did you disappear on me without a word, now I hear you’re going to that arsehole’s party. I’m tempted to throw that first edition Poirot I’ve kept for you into the recycling bin.”

I gasped. “You bought a first edition Poirot? For me?”

The line fell silent for a long moment, which was all I needed to know just how upset she really was.

“Yes. But that was when I liked you. Things change. And okay, maybe I won’t throw it in the recycling, but that doesn’t make you any less of an arsehole for keeping me in the dark about this little rescue mission of yours.

I could die any day, you know?” She sounded genuinely hurt and I hated that I was responsible.

“That was unfair of me,” I agreed. “And I’m sorry. But I didn’t want to?—”

“If you say worry me,” she snapped, “I’ll tan your bare bottom like I used to.”

A disturbing image that took a moment to digest. “I’m fifty-five, Aunt Shirley. It’s been a long time since you laid eyes on my bare bum.”

“So what?” she retorted snippily. “I take it the thing is bonier and more wrinkled than it used to be, but so is my hand. They should get along well.”

I sighed. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but we wanted to at least try to help Lee. Do you think it’s a mistake?” I was surprised how nervous I felt about her answer. Aunt Shirley was nobody’s fool, and a more courageous woman I’d yet to meet.

“Of course it’s not a mistake to try and help that boy,” she huffed, sending relief rocketing through my body.

“I just wish you’d told me. There’s no more certain way to make an old woman feel really old than to leave her out of your plans.

I’m proud of you, son. You might get that first edition, after all, if you don’t get yourself killed before I can give it to you. I give it fifty-fifty.”

I chuckled. “I was hoping for better odds but thank you. And I am sorry. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Be sure that you don’t.” She paused and I waited. “And be careful. Please. You should know that I’m bunking down at Lizzie’s place tomorrow night. I’ve let Jerry know.”

I bit my tongue and cast a glance toward the darkened bedroom where Nick was still on his phone. “That’s really not necess?—”

“None of that sass,” Shirley cut me off. “Lizzie invited me so that we can worry together. We’ll expect a call and a debrief when it’s done and you’re all safe.”

“But it’ll be well after midnight, your time.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she countered. “Someone will call us, understand?”

I blew out a sigh. “Fine, we’ll call.”

I pictured her crafty smile as she preened and said, “Good. Then you can go. We’ll talk tomorrow.” And with that, she ended the call, leaving me feeling like someone had put me through a cheese grater.

“Wow.” Gazza smiled from his seat at the dining table behind three plates of sandwiches. “And I thought Samoan women took the prize for the most protective mama bears.”

I laughed mirthlessly and slumped into a chair. “I know very little about Samoan mamas, but I reckon a lesbian, Harley-Davidson-riding octogenarian with an ankle tattoo that says No Regrets might just hold her own in the same room.”

Gazza laughed. “I reckon you’re right, and on that terrifying note, I vote we never ever let them meet.” He raised his hand for a high five.

I obliged. “Agreed. I take it you haven’t told your mother then?”

Gazza’s face drained of all colour. “Are you serious? Of course I haven’t told her.

Half my family on my mother’s side live in Melbourne.

One whiff of what we’ve got planned and they’d all be here keeping an eye on me.

Or worse, trying to help. No way. My mother thinks I’ve gone to Fiji for the week. ”

I choked on a laugh. “Holy shit, are you in trouble when she finds out.”

He shot me a menacing glare. “She isn’t going to find out, is she? We’re going to do this and go home all in one piece, right?”

“My lips are sealed.” I made a zipping motion across my mouth just as Nick wandered back into the living area, looking pale and somewhat cowed. Our eyes met and he winced.

“Older women are so damn bossy and Lizzie is the worst,” he grumbled. “I felt like I was twelve all over again and she isn’t even my mother. You guys have it easy.”

Gazza and I shared a look and burst out laughing.

We finished our sandwiches and cleaned up, all the while discussing Samuel’s amendments to our strategy for the party.

Much to Nick’s disappointment, we couldn’t fault any of them.

Having said that, Samuel wasn’t aware that Nick intended to watch Gazza from the garden and not stay in the car as we’d insinuated.

What could go wrong?