I shouted the last bit, which I didn't want to do — but I was getting desperate. I didn't want Flanker on my back in addition to everything else that was going on.
'Of course,' croaked Drabb, 'I take full responsibility for my failure.'
'Good,' I said, straightening up. 'Tomorrow you are to search the Australian Writers' Guild in Wootton Bassett.'
Drabb dabbed his brow and made another salute.
'As you say, Miss Next.'
I tried to drive past the mixed bag of journalists and TV news crews but they were more than insistent so I stopped to say a few words.
'Miss Next,' said a reporter from ToadSports, jostling with the five or six other TV crews trying to get the best angle, 'what is your reaction to the news that five of the Mallets have withdrawn from the side following death threats?'
This was news to me but I didn't show it.
'We are in the process of signing new players to the team—'
'Miss Manager, with only five players in your team, don't you think it better just to withdraw?'
'We'll be playing, I assure you.'
'What is your response to the rumour that the Reading Whackers have signed ace player "Bonecrusher" McSneed to play forward hoop?'
'The same as always — the Superhoop will be a momentous victory for Swindon.'
'And what about the news that you have been declared "unfit to manage" given your highly controversial decision to put
Biffo in defence?'
'Positions on the field are yet to be decided and are up to Mr Jambe. Now if you'll excuse me . . .'
I started the engine again and drove away from the SpecOps building, the news crews still shouting questions after me. I was big news again, and I didn't like it.
I arrived home just in time to rescue Mother from having to make more tea for Friday.
'Eight fish fingers!' she muttered, shocked by his greed. 'Eight!'
'That's nothing,' I replied, putting my pay cheque into a novelty teapot and tickling Friday on the ear. 'You wait until you see how many beans he can put away.'
'The phone's been ringing all day. Aubrey somebody or other about death threats or something?'
'I'll call him. How was the zoo?'
'Ooh!' she cooed, touched her hair and tripped out of the kitchen. I waited until she was gone then knelt down close to Friday.
'Did Bismarck and Gran . . . kiss?'
'Tempor incididunt ut labors,' he replied enigmatically, 'et dolore magna aliqua.'
'I hope that's a "definitely not", darling,' I murmured, filling up his beaker. As I did so I caught my wedding ring on the lip of the cup, and I stared at it in a resigned manner. Landen was back again. I clasped it tightly and picked up the phone and dialled.
'Hello?' came Landen's voice.
'It's Thursday.'
'Thursday!' he said with a mixture of relief and alarm. 'What happened to you? I was waiting for you in the bedroom and then I heard the front door close! Did I do something wrong?'
'No, Land, nothing. You were eradicated again.'