The Woman Who Died a Lot (Thursday Next 7)

“She’s always been feisty,” said Dad with a warm smile. “Do you remember that trip we took to the Atlas Mountains when your mother tried to smuggle a live goat across the border, wrapped up in a carpet?”

“No,” I said.

“Joffy?”

“No.”

“Damn,” said my father. “All those memories, and none of them shared.”

11.

Monday: Evening

The sound cannon was one of Tuesday’s notable inventions, a device that used a low-frequency/high-amplitude resampling of Van Halen’s “Eruption” that could cause momentary unconsciousness. The device had not actually been designed as an intruder deterrent but was one of Tuesday’s attempts to adapt hard rock for domestic use in the kitchen. She had been attempting to use Led Zeppelin’s “I Can’t Quit You Baby” to whisk egg whites when she overmodulated the bass and punched a two-foot-wide hole in the fridge.

Gordon Von Squid, Tuesday Next: The Early Notions

We had coffee in the living room. Tuesday went off to jot down an idea she’d had for a device to make yourself aware when sleeping so you’d enjoy it more, and Friday just wandered off. Joffy, Landen, Miles and I talked for a while until Joffy’s assistant called at the door to say that it was time for him to leave. He had to take the Gravitube to Dubai for a meeting in the morning.

“It was good to see you,” I said, giving him a hug. “And you,” he replied. “My time is not my own these days. I’ll be back in Swindon for the smiting on Friday. If there’s anything you can do to help Tuesday find a way to make the anti-smite tower operational, I’d be grateful.”

I hugged Miles, too, and they were soon gone, the five-car motorcade vanishing off into the darkness.

“I wouldn’t have Joffy’s job for anything,” said Landen as we watched them go. “Trying to demand the question of existence from an all-knowing omniscient supreme being takes negotiating to a whole new level.”

Once the outer gates had shut, the WingCo went to check on security arrangements. There was a high perimeter fence all the way around the house, with razor wire and proximity alarms linked to searchlights and sound cannon, and aside from the odd false alarm, the whole arrangement seemed to function quite well. Once the Wingco had checked that all was well, I walked through the quiet house and found Landen in the office, where he was trying to stay ahead of the paperwork generated by Tuesday’s many patent-licensing deals. We had a business manager and a team of lawyers, but Landen liked to read through most things so he knew what was going on.

“ Hispano-Fiat is interested in bringing Tuesday’s microkinetic battery system to market in under six years,” said Landen.

“I’m not surprised. Has she agreed to it?”

“With the usual nonmilitary rider. Do you want some chocolate? I’ve got a bar hidden at the back of the fridge.”

He didn’t need to ask twice. “I’ll go,” I said.

I got up and went though to the kitchen, where the fridge door had been open, something that Friday tended to do these days. I also noticed that he had made himself a sandwich and left it half eaten on the kitchen table. I put it in a Tupperware box, found the bar of chocolate and walked back to the living room.

“Did Joffy tell you what the ‘alternative plan’ to the Anti-Smite Shield was?” I asked.

“He only mentioned there was one—no details. Who were you talking to?”

“No one.”

“And why do you have a cut above your eye?”

I touched my hand to my eyebrow and regarded the blood on my fingertips with confusion. “I don’t know.”

He looked at me for a moment, then put the papers down and went into the kitchen. I heard him say something to somebody, and then I heard a crash as some pots and pans fell to the floor, so I shuffled through to join him. I found him staring into the cupboard where we kept the tins. He turned around and looked at me, mildly confused.

“What did I come in here for?” he asked.

“You thought you heard me talking to someone.”

He looked around. “I did?”

“Yes. But then I heard you talking to someone.”

The door swung shut, and it made us both jump.