Fullepub 
Chapter 26
26
I wait for Cooper by his car, pulling my phone out and googling “gala etiquette” in the hopes of gleaning some tips.
“Delphie.”
I look up to see Cooper in front of me. He’s dressed in a perfectly cut black tuxedo, his usually messy hair neat and shiny. He now looks like if Timothée Chalamet had an extremely tall, extremely brooding, extremely easy-on-the-eye asshole of a brother. His eyes widen and flicker across my dress and then slowly over my face. He licks his lips slightly. I think he’s about to pay me a compliment, but instead he runs a hand over his jaw and says, “I thought in the nineteen twenties the feathers were worn in the headdress, not on the shoulders?”
“Alright, Miranda Priestly.”
“Who’s Miranda Priestly?”
I roll my eyes.
“Nice tuxedo,” I say, ignoring his question. “I’m surprised and impressed you managed to hire one to fit you at such late notice.” We climb into the car, and I see that the pens and bottles that littered the interior the other night have now disappeared. There’s a brand-new air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror. The scent is called Clean Tuscan Leather. I lean forward to sniff it. Not bad. Rather pleasant, in fact.
Cooper pulls a face. “I already had a tux,” he says, as if of course every man has a tuxedo on hand for any occasion.
“Oh, sorry. Forgot you’re a fancy writer who probably goes to loads of fancy author events where they all blow smoke up your bum and give you awards.”
“Your entire view of the life of an author is madly skewed. Mostly it was sitting alone in front of a computer, worrying and occasionally stopping to answer the door or make another hot drink that I didn’t really want.”
“So pretty much the life you have now? But without any book to show for it?”
“You have a way of cutting right to the meanest comment you could possibly make in any given situation.”
I shrug, adjusting my shoulder sleeves because one of the feathers is poking into my skin. “You know how when someone says something horrid to you and at the time you never have the appropriate comeback prepared? Like, you think of something withering in the middle of the night and then fixate on it, getting more and more annoyed at yourself for not saying it in the moment?”
“Of course.”
“Yeah, well, I spent the entirety of my high school career doing that, pretty much. And soon enough I cultivated the skill of actually being able to respond immediately when someone annoyed me. And you annoy me such a lot. It’s been good to get the field practice in.”
“It’s quite a skill,” Cooper says, switching gears as we leave the city behind.
“I should put it on my CV.”
“Ten GCSE’s. Three A levels, diploma in searing on-the-spot ripostes.”
“Master’s in being a gigantic bitch,” I chuckle. “Seriously, though. Aled was so excited to meet you. I think if I’d managed to do something that made other people that giddy about me, I’d never want to stop doing it. Don’t you miss it?”
“I miss it very much.”
“So why don’t you—”
“Why are all the boxes of paints in your flat unopened?”
He shoots me a look and I get the hint. I clamp my mouth shut.
As we continue to drive, I notice that to the left of me there’s a field filled with cows and sheep. “Cows and sheep!” I coo.
“Have you never left the city?”
“I once went to Barnet…”
“You mean my parents’ house the other night? That’s seriously the only time you’ve left central?”
“I went on a solo trip to Greece once. But other than that, I’ve never had much desire to venture out. Bayswater has everything I could ever need.”
“You didn’t ever go abroad with your family? Travel with your friends?”
“My mum lives in Marfa,” I tell him. “Haven’t seen her in years.”
“Marfa? Where’s that?”
“It’s a desert town in Texas. She lives there with her boyfriend, Gerard.”
“What does she do there?”
“She’s an artist.”
“That’s cool. Do you visit much?”
I shake my head. When Mum left for Marfa, she said that after I’d finished my exams she’d arrange a plane ticket over there so I could see what I thought, maybe consider moving there too. But when I finished school, Mum suggested that it might be more useful for me to look after the flat in London, and that anyway, the weather in Marfa was way too hot for me and that all the other residents of the commune were over forty so I would probably feel awkward and out of place.
“I’ve never been,” I say. “Far too hot for me.”
There must be something in my voice, because Cooper glances over, a flash of sympathy in his eyes.
“No big deal,” I say brightly. “She’s happy and that’s a good thing. A really good thing. Anyway! Let’s not talk about that. Totally boring.”
Cooper clears his throat. “Okay. So you had no gap year jaunts then? Hen parties? Weddings in Italy?”
“Weddings in Italy? Ha!” I shake my head. “Was never interested in any of that. I find weddings to be a bit dull, and traveling seems to be a waste of money.” I don’t mention that I’ve never actually been to a wedding, let alone one in Italy.
I say it with as much conviction as I can, but even to my own ears it sounds thin. Which is odd because I actively planned a life cocooned in my home with no-one else to bother me. So why does disappointment prickle my chest?
“There’s so much out there to see,” Cooper murmurs. “So much experience to be had.”
“Yeah, thanks for the feedback, Michael Palin. Shall we put on some music?”
I don’t wait for an answer before switching on London Pop FM and turning it all the way up.
Duckett’s Edge looks exactly like one of those picturesque villages in Murder in the Pretty Village. The houses are huge, with thatched roofs and doors painted in glossy heritage colours. The roads are winding and dotted with plant boxes stuffed with colourful blooms. Cooper pulls into the car park of a pub called The Bee and Bonnet and turns off the engine.
“Have you been here before?” I ask, getting out of the car and stretching my back. The sun is now lower in the sky, casting a soft golden glow over the pair of us. I fuss about with the dress so that it doesn’t look quite so crumpled. Then I fluff my feathers and reach into the little silk purse Leanne lent me, taking out a powder compact and dabbing extra carefully at my forehead and the sides of my nose.
“No.” Cooper locks the car door and brushes down his tux trousers. “But I did do an online map search and this pub is conveniently located only a fifteen-minute walk from Derwent Manor.”
“Fifteen minutes?” I screw up my face, eyeing the slightly too small heels that Leanne smushed me into. “I’m not sure you noticed, but I don’t ever wear heels. Never. And it’s boiling. And I look as close to perfect as it’s possible for me to be right now. If I get sweaty I will not look perfect anymore.”
“It’s fifteen minutes, not fifteen miles. And you have that little powder thingy in your purse for the sweat.”
He doesn’t say anything about me looking perfect or otherwise. In fact, when I met him in the lobby earlier he said absolutely zero about how I looked, even though I know that I have never ever looked better than this.
I take my phone from my purse. There’s a text from the Italian restaurant on Kensington Park Road letting me know that Mr. Yoon’s order has been delivered. Fab. Then I notice the time.
“Wait—another fifteen minutes and we’ll be late! I thought you said we’d be inconspicuous? The two of us rocking up after it’s all started will totally draw attention to our lack of invitation!”
“My plan involves us being fifteen minutes late.”
“Oh?”
“While you got much wrong about the life of an author earlier on, you did not stray too far from the truth when it came to awards. I have won two Daggers.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“It means I write books about heists that have won respect and admiration from my peers. Getting into a charity gala without a ticket is not going to be a problem for me.”
Hmm. I’m not sure I believe him.
“We’ll be there in no time,” he says confidently as we set off across the pub car park.
The back of my heel is bleeding. We’re on what looks to be a never-ending country lane being followed by a lone sheep who baas at us every so often as if to tell us we are going totally the wrong way.
“Are you sure this is the right direction?” I ask, not for the first time.
Cooper stops walking and rubs his hand across his jaw. “I beg of you to stop asking. I have checked and double-checked. Christ, I spent almost the entirety of yesterday making sure that this would work.”
“You did?” I ask in surprise. “The entirety of yesterday?”
“I did,” he returns, exasperated. “I said I would. This is the only way to get to the back of Derwent Manor without being seen. And then I will tell you the remainder of the plan.”
“I don’t understand why you won’t tell me now, though. What if it’s not a good plan and I need to make adjustments? I need you to understand how important it is that this works!”
He takes a step towards me, his nose a mere inch from mine. I notice that his dark green eyes are flecked with tiny splashes of olive green. They glint, making me think of a flinted emerald. “Because, Delphie,” he says, his voice low, “you make cynical remarks at every possible opportunity and ask far, far too many questions.” His eyes travel over my face. “Have you ever planned a heist?”
“Well, no,” I say, noticing then that he has shaved, the usual scruffy stubble shorter and neater.
“I have planned many.” He tugs at his bow tie.
“Fictional, though. Not real ones.”
“Can’t you have a little fucking faith?”
I blink.
Faith. Huh.
In the absence of a suitably cynical response, I nod my head.
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
His eyes linger on mine for a moment longer before he turns on his heel and continues to stride down the country lane, me hobbling after him, the errant sheep trotting away after me.
Soon enough we turn a corner and the rear of Derwent Manor comes into view. It is vast and even grander than it looks in the pictures online.
“Whoa,” I breathe. “It’s blummin’ gorgeous. And so old! I wonder if it’s haunted. I wonder if Lady Derwent sleeps in a four-poster bed. Ooh, do you think there’s a scullery?”
Cooper ignores me, purposefully striding towards a tall black cast-iron fence enclosing the whole back of the building. I’m about to ask Cooper how the hell he figures we’re going to get over the fence, but before I can, he starts quietly counting the iron bars. “There should be a small lock about one hundred and fifty railings to the left,” he murmurs to himself.
We start counting the bars together and, just as he said, there’s a lock at number one hundred and fifty. The railings here are slightly thicker, and in the middle of one of them is a small rusting space for a key.
“A secret gate!” I breathe, straight-up enchanted. I think this is what having fun feels like.
Cooper reaches into his inside jacket pocket and pulls out a Swiss Army knife, inserting one of the fittings deftly into the keyhole and wiggling it from side to side, his tongue poking slightly between his teeth.
“Picking a lock!” I exclaim, impressed despite myself.
“You going to narrate this whole thing?” He flashes me a look before giving the lock one last firm yank. The hinges squeak open with a noise that suggests it’s not been touched in perhaps a century.
“We have to leave you here,” I say to the sheep lingering behind us. “We’d take you with us but it’s too dangerous.”
Cooper turns to the sheep. “Thank you for helping us to get this far,” he adds, straight-faced and earnest. “But your stench would arouse too much suspicion.”
“We will never forget you.” I reach out to pat the sheep on the head but decide against it because Cooper is right about the stench and sheep is not a good bouquet on anyone trying to attract the man of their dreams.
“Goodbye, Special Agent Balthazar.” Cooper says with a solemn bow of the head.
Special Agent Balthazar?
I bark out a laugh so loud it shocks me and makes the sheep literally shit on the grass beneath him.
“Come on, Delphie,” Cooper scolds, as if he weren’t the one just fooling about. “This ruse is a long way from over.” His eyes glint excitedly, cheeks lightly flushed. Is…is he enjoying himself?
We clamber up to a small grass verge until we reach some sort of outhouse connected to the main building.
Cooper reaches into his inside pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper, opening it up to reveal a printout of an architectural plan or something.
“Is that Derwent Manor?” I gasp. “You printed out plans?”
“Of course. How else would I know there was an outhouse?”
He hands me the paper and hops up a step to peer through the window of the outhouse. “I need a rock.”
A task for me at last. I search for the best rock I can find. I pick up two and discard them, settling on a large round one that’s heavier than the others.
“Good rock.” Cooper nods his approval, bounding back down off the step and passing it between both of his hands. “Next, I’m going to throw this through that window.” He points at the outhouse window. “According to the most recent fire safety report of Derwent Manor, there’s a fire alarm just to the left of the window. I’m going to set it off. Everyone will be brought outside for a count, at which point we will slip into the crowd. I’m betting that guests will be irritated enough by the interruption that no-one will ask to see tickets for a second time. And you and I? We will smoothly saunter back in with everyone else. Just like we’d always been there.”
I grin. “I’m impressed, Cooper.”
“We can’t rest until we have that first glass of champagne in our hands. That’s when we’ll know we have successfully infiltrated the event.”
“And I can finally, finally find Jonah!”
He nods, face suddenly serious again. Then he steps back, and with much more force than I personally believe is necessary, he chucks the rock through the outhouse window.
