The Glass Wall by Clare Curzon Page B

time to …adjust. Will you help me, Alyson? Is it too much to ask that you let me repay your hospitality? Perhaps we could have dinner one evening. If you could get free, of course. Drive out into the country to somewhere quiet?’
    He watched her face. ‘I’ll deliver you home safely. Straight after, I promise.’
    â€˜I don’t need your promises. I mean, I know …’
    â€˜You know me.’
    â€˜Yes.’

    â€˜Is that yes, you know me; or yes, you’ll come?’
    She looked at him evenly and made up her mind; whether for his or her own relief. ‘Yes for both. I think I can get someone to stand in for me with Emily. In a day or two.’
    â€˜Good. You need to get out and see a little life. I’ll leave it to you to arrange when. Sooner the better. Ring me, will you?’
    â€˜I will. But Keith, there’s a message from Dr Ashton.’
    â€˜I’ve seen her. She’s probably right to section Audrey. Is she still here?’
    â€˜Sedated. We’re just waiting for a porter to move her.’
    He nodded. There would no longer be any excuse now to drop into ITU, but Alyson had agreed to have dinner with him. And there was always Emily to visit and so keep seeing her.
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    On the way Markham had called in at the Stag to take aboard a couple of scotches to firm up his resolution, and then Baldrey had given him an overdose of much the same (but of a superior brand) after they’d concluded their discussion. The cramped little office was overheated, and as he stepped out into the street again the wind sliced through him, setting up a ringing between his ears. But he felt resilient. More than that. Jubilant.
    He’d put it over on them all. He was proud that the convincing way he’d slagged off the feebly-run courts had evinced just the right kind of response from Baldrey. It confirmed the debt recovery company’s experience of the judicial system’s shortcomings. At least a third of the cases the bailiffs dealt with concerned, basically, unpaid court fines.
    It hadn’t taken long before Baldrey had grunted, ‘I’m surprised you haven’t considered a change of profession before. Something like ours, for example.’ His little piggy eyes screwed up as he watched Markham’s feigned surprise at the new idea.
    â€˜I might even get around to doing that,’ he’d agreed.
    The money Baldrey then mentioned made his salary as usher look more like peanuts, although he wasn’t too happy about relying mainly on commission. Then a little more arsing around the subject and he’d allowed himself to be persuaded: he’d chuck in the usher’s job and join Baldrey here dunning the debtors. Of course, he’d always privately thought bailiffs were the lowest of
the low, lacking all the gravitas of his previous occupation; but someone had to lean on the defaulters. Repossession and eviction: they were the basis of effective law enforcement. He’d still be a presence to be feared and respected. Plenty of scope all round for satisfaction.
    Ernest Baldrey slid the bottle back into the bottom drawer of his kneehole desk and kicked it shut. ‘Fait ac- bloody -compli,’ he said with satisfaction. Receiving intelligence of the usher’s spat with his boss had been almost instant on the deed. Markham’s final fall from grace had been a long time coming and pleasurably anticipated in several quarters.
    His inclusion in the team would nicely square it up: Tam Godfrey to do the valuations and Markham to lean on the defaulters. If not ideal, at least balanced. The man would relish having more scope to throw his weight about. The kerfuffle over his loose mouth in the pub had been opportune, leaving the ex-usher in the right bullish mood to take on the new job with plenty of stored anger.
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    Despite the cutting edge of the wind, Markham’s step had taken on a distinct bounce. The lethargic,