Dead Heat - By Dick Francis & Felix Francis Page 0,87

this didn’t seem like an unreasonable request to me, but it took me more than an hour to achieve it and involved me having to raise my voice on several occasions, something I was not used to doing.

For a start, she kept asking if I had the SIM card from the phone and I tried to explain to her that my phone, along with the damn SIM card, was no more. I told her that it had been melted away into a puddle of silicon, solder and plastic. ‘You shouldn’t have put the phone battery in a fire,’ she said. ‘It’s not good for the environment.’ Only a semblance of remaining decency prevented me from strangling her at this point. Finally we neared the end of this tortuous affair. I had the phone in my hand, as yet uncharged, and I had my stack of notes ready and available for payment. ‘Do you have any form of identification?’ she asked, somewhat belatedly to my mind. I proudly flourished my passport. ‘That won’t do,’ she said. ‘I need something with your address on it. Do you have a utility bill?’

I stared at her. ‘Have you listened to anything I have told you?’

‘Yes,’ she replied.

‘Then how would I have a utility bill if my house has been completely burnt to a crisp?’ I said. ‘At the time, I hadn’t exactly thought that a utility bill was something I needed to save from the inferno along with my life.’ My voice rose in a crescendo. But I somehow managed not to boil over completely. ‘Sorry,’ I said more calmly. ‘No, I don’t have a utility bill.’

‘Then I’m sorry, sir. I must have something to confirm your address.’

We were getting nowhere.

‘Can you please produce a duplicate of my last month’s phone bill?’ I asked her, back to my usual calm tone.

‘Certainly, sir,’ she said. I gave her my mobile phone number and, unbelievably, she also wanted the first line of my address, for security reasons. I told her. A printer under the counter whirred and she handed over a copy of my bill, complete with my full address printed in the top right-hand corner.

‘There,’ I said, handing it back to her. ‘One utility bill.’

She didn’t bat a thickly mascaraed eyelid.

‘Thank you, sir,’ she said, and processed my order. Hallelujah!

‘Can I leave the phone here to charge for an hour?’ I asked her.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘You will have to do that at home.’

I sighed. Never mind, I thought, I’ll try elsewhere.

In the end, I bought an in-car charger from her, and again sat in the Mondeo now with my new phone connected to the cigarette-lighter socket. Progress had been slow. I looked at my wrist. No watch. It had been on my bedside table. The car clock told me it was half past eleven. Half past five in the morning in Chicago. Still too early to call Caroline, even if I knew the number. I was sure she would call me when she woke. I hoped my phone would be sufficiently charged by then.

I left it charging while I went for a coffee. I sat in the window of a café with the car parked right outside. I had needed to leave the car unlocked with the keys in the ignition in order for the charger to work so I kept a close eye on it. I didn’t fancy the prospect of having to go back to the young woman to explain that my new phone had been stolen before I had even had a chance to use it.

I next went into a luggage shop and bought myself a suitcase, which, during the following hour and a half, I proceeded to fill with new pants and socks, five new shirts, three new pairs of chinos, a navy blue blazer, two tweed jackets and a tie. fortunately, my work clothes, the sets of specially designed Max Moreton embroidered tunics and the large check trousers, were safe at the restaurant. I never wore them home as they went every morning with the tablecloths to a commercial laundry. But, I thought, I would look a bit stupid wearing a chef’s tunic to the Cadogan Hall next week.

Caroline called around two o’clock and was appropriately horrified to hear my news about the cottage.

‘But are you all right?’ she asked for the umpteenth time.

I assured her that I was fine. I told her that I was staying with Carl for a couple of days and I would find myself some