Читать книгу Perfect Death: The gripping new crime book you won’t be able to put down! - Helen Fields - Страница 20

Cordelia Muir was feeling under the weather, which was infuriating given the meeting she was due to have that morning. A large corporation was looking for a charity to sponsor and Crystal was on the shortlist for potential recipients. Those sorts of donations were invaluable. Smaller scale fundraising was a wonderful, personal way of people changing the world, but it was the big money that made a substantial difference on the ground. She hadn’t slept well now for a few days, waking up sweating and feeling nauseous although she’d stopped short of actually being sick. Things had improved slightly over the weekend, but the meeting was scheduled for 3pm and with only an hour to go, she had a headache that was proving unresponsive to painkillers.

The new volunteer, Jeremy, knocked then put his head around her door. ‘I’ll be off shortly,’ he said. ‘Is there anything I can do before I go?’

‘Could you get the conference room ready for the meeting, please?’ Cordelia asked weakly.

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Are you all right?’ Cordelia was known at the office for never asking anyone else to do jobs she had time to do herself, no matter how humble.

‘Thumping headache,’ she said. ‘I’d do it myself, only …’

‘No w-worries,’ Jeremy said. ‘Happy to help.’

‘Thank you. I don’t suppose I could push my luck and ask for a cup of tea as well? I’m so thirsty.’ Cordelia took a handkerchief from her bag and dabbed her face with it.

‘Sure. Shall I have Liam cancel the meeting?’ Jeremy asked.

‘No! Gosh, it’s too important for that. I’ll be all right.’ She pushed her hair back from a damp semi-circle across her forehead. ‘Maybe I should try to eat.’

Jeremy disappeared off to the kettle, watching as Liam Hood got up from his seat to go and speak to Cordelia. Jeremy had decided he didn’t much like Liam. He was the sort of person who listened to your conversations whilst pretending to be busy, who would read emails over your shoulder. Jeremy had only been volunteering there a week, but he could see the good the charity was doing. Since Crystal had opened its doors eight years earlier, the initiative had provided clean drinking water to vast areas of Africa, village by village. Cordelia Muir was a woman with vision and spirit. Jeremy admired her.

‘I can take the meeting for you, Cordelia,’ Liam was saying as Jeremy took the tea in. ‘I’m from a corporate background so I understand how these people think and what they want to hear. Why don’t you go home? You obviously aren’t well.’