“Beautiful house, if I may be so bold, ma’am.”
“Far too big for me really, but I can’t face the upheaval of moving.”
He drew up outside the porch. “I’ll get your bag.”
After he had helped her out, she handed him the ten.
“That isn’t necessary, ma’am. The company pays me.”
“And I’m recognising exceptional service. Please accept it, Gerald. I insist.”
He thanked her. “If I may be so bold, ma’am, I don’t think Viv Swift would be as generous as this.”
She laughed. “Viv Swift would put a gun against your head and steal your car.” She had her house key ready. “Good night, then.”
“Where would you like the bag?” He had a way of clearing his throat before suggesting anything extra. “I can carry it upstairs if you wish.”
Heavens, no, she thought. No, no, no. He thinks I’m Viv, ever on the lookout for a stud. “How kind, but just inside the door will do. I can manage perfectly well now.”
After he’d gone, Daisy closed and bolted the door top and bottom. Ten to one he was safe to be with, but you can never be sure what thoughts are in their heads. She made herself hot chocolate and added a dash of brandy. Her nightcap. Viv would have knocked back a neat vodka. Or three.
The holdall was still by the door where she’d left it. She’d sort the washing in the morning.
She poured herself a glass of cold water and swallowed the aspirin Dr. Patel had suggested she took each night. She was about to switch off the downstairs lights when a floorboard creaked upstairs.
Her skin prickled.
Be sensible, she told herself. It’s something to do with the central heating, with pipes and loose floorboards. But being sensible wasn’t any help because she’d been sensible enough to turn the heating off while she was away. The creak had come from another cause.
Panicky thoughts bombarded her. What if someone had got in and was ransacking her bedroom, thinking she was away in Bristol? She’d seen no evidence of a break-in, but she knew from the TV series that modern burglars had clever ways of forcing doors and windows.
For the next twenty minutes she sat in the kitchen drumming her fingers on the table, too nervous to go upstairs. How stupid is this? she told herself several times over. I can’t spend the night down here, a prisoner in my own home. It’s almost one in the morning, I’m tired and I need my sleep.
Another ten minutes went by before she thought of a solution. She would think herself into her role as Viv Swift. True, she wouldn’t have the makeup, the heels or the fire-engine-red suit with the strong shoulders, but she would summon up the inner strength she possessed when she was in character. Playing Viv was transformative.
She did have one confidence-giver. In the drawer of the kitchen table was the dummy revolver she’d used to practise the gun-spinning. She opened the drawer, gripped the gun and immediately felt stronger. She stood up and gave it a twirl. When the butt came to rest in her palm she was Vivienne Swift. The adrenalin coursed through her veins.
She turned the light off and crossed the hall. Her actions now were confident and deliberate. If you’re up there, buddy, prepare to be scared shitless. She was up those stairs faster than she would have thought possible. On the landing she paused to listen.
Nothing.
Gripping the gun with both hands and with her shoulder to the wall, she moved towards her bedroom door. It was partially open. She gave it a kick and said in Viv’s ball-breaking voice, “I know you’re there. Face the wall with your hands against it. I’m armed and coming in.”
There was no going back. She stepped inside, gun levelled in the shooter’s stance. There was enough light from the streetlamp outside to give a clear view as she swept her aim through a slow arc.
Nobody.
She crossed to the en suite and made quite sure.
Almost a disappointment, she was so hyped up.
She sighed, switched on the light, threw the gun on the bed and became herself again. Shaking her head at her own idiocy, she pulled the curtains and started thinking about the few things she needed to do before climbing into bed. Her night cream was downstairs in the holdall and so was her toothbrush, but she didn’t intend to go down for them. She’d shower and do her teeth in the morning. A quick splash at the hand basin would do for now.
She had a fresh nightie hanging in the wardrobe. She slid the door back and had the worst shock of her life. She was eye to eye with someone in a hideous grinning Guy Fawkes mask.
She drew in a huge, gasping breath and felt a blast of pain across her chest and into her neck and arms, a sensation she knew was the cardiac arrest she dreaded.
For Daisy it was truly a wrap.
2
The top-rated TV crime series Swift has been hit once again by the sudden death of one of its stars. Last Thursday night, Daisy Summerfield, the veteran actor who plays Caitlin Swift’s mother Vivienne, suffered a fatal heart attack when she discovered an intruder in her bedroom at Richmond upon Thames. This is the third tragic incident involving a cast member in the past two years. The show’s award-winning creator and producer, Mary Wroxeter, died suddenly while series five was being filmed. Dan Burbage, who had the part of the clever Sergeant Monaghan, fell while climbing in Snowdonia in January and suffered brain damage that put a premature end to his acting career.
The show’s producer, Greg Deans, last night dismissed suggestions that the series is jinxed, but admitted that Swift has been dogged by misfortune ever since it was launched in 2013. “Right now we’re focusing our thoughts on Daisy,” he said. “She was a regular in the series since it started and a favourite of our TV audience as well as the cast and crew. We’ll miss her dreadfully.” Others connected with the show said what a warm-hearted person Daisy was in real life, totally unlike the tough, hard-drinking character she played. Several also expressed concern about the run of bad luck. “It seems like a hoodoo,” said one actor who didn’t wish to be named. “Hardly a month goes by without some new setback.” A cameraman who has been a crew member since the start said, “Personally, I’m being ultra-careful. I can’t help wondering whose turn is next.”
Undeniably, the chain of disruptive incidents is troubling. Even before filming of the first series began, the unnamed actor originally chosen to play Swift had a crisis of confidence and had to be replaced. During the filming of the pilot episode, there was a fire in a van containing sound equipment and an engineer was seriously burnt trying to save valuable items. Soon after the series was commissioned six months later, a stunt involving a rooftop chase went badly wrong and two stuntmen ended up in hospital. And a strange event occurred during the shooting of the third season, when Dave Tudor, the assistant producer, went missing on the second day of shooting and has not been seen since.
Despite all these setbacks, Swift was an immediate success with viewers and has remained high in the ratings, as well as picking up a clutch of Emmy awards in its first two seasons. The show’s main star, Sabine San Sebastian, who plays Swift, was last night unavailable for comment.
Bath’s most senior detective was not impressed. “What am I supposed to say about this?” Peter Diamond asked.
“Whatever you want,” his partner, Paloma Kean, said, well used to his bluntness. They had eaten supper on trays in front of the TV.
“Swift. That’s the one set in the West Country, isn’t it? I watched one episode and switched over. Policing isn’t like that.”