depositing them in a plastic basket. 'You can take these to the dry-cleaners on the way to work tomorrow.'
'Right,' said Wilt, and headed for the bathroom.
'You can't go in there yet. I'm still washing Samantha's hair and I'm not having you prancing around in the altogether...'
'Then I'll wear my pants in the shower,' said Wilt and was presently hidden behind the shower curtain listening to Penelope telling the world that female hamsters frequently bit the male's testicles after copulating.
'I wonder they bother to wait. Talk about having your cake and eating it,' muttered Wilt, and absentmindedly soaped his Y-fronts.
'I heard that,' said Eva and promptly turned the hot tap on in the bath. Behind the shower curtain Wilt juddered under a stream of cold water. With a grunt of despair, he wrenched at the cold tap and stepped from the shower.
'Daddy's foaming at his panties,' squealed the quads delightedly.
Wilt lurched at them rabidly. 'Not the only fucking place he'll be foaming if you don't get the hell out of here,' he shouted.
Eva turned the hot tap in the bath off. 'That's no way to set an example,' she said, 'talking like that. You should be ashamed of yourself.'
'Like hell I should. I've had a bloody awful day at the Tech and I've got to go out to the prison to teach that ghastly creature McCullum, and I no sooner step into the bosom of my menagerie than I'
The front doorbell rang loudly downstairs. That's bound to be Mr Leach next door come to complain again,' said Eva.
'Sod Mr Leach,' said Wilt and stepped back under the shower.
This time he learnt what it felt like to be scalded.
Chapter 5
Things were hotting up for other people in Ipford as well. The Principal for one. He had just arrived home and was opening the drinks cabinet in the hope of dulling his memory of a disastrous day, when the phone rang. It was the Vice-Principal. 'I'm afraid I've got some rather disturbing news,' he said with a lugubrious satisfaction the Principal recognized. He connected it with funerals. 'It's about that girl we were looking for...' The Principal reached for the gin bottle and missed the rest of the sentence. He got back in time to hear something about the boiler-room. 'Say that again,' he said, holding the bottle between his knees and trying to open it with one hand.
'I said the caretaker found her in the boiler-room.'
'In the boiler-room? What on earth was she doing there?'
'Dying,' said the Vice-Principal, affecting an even more sombre tone.
'Dying?' The Principal had the bottle open now and poured himself a large gin. This was even more awful than he expected.
'I'm afraid so.'
'Where is she now?' asked the Principal, trying to stave off the worst.
'Still in the boiler-room.'
'Still in the...But good God man, if she's in that condition, why the devil haven't you got her to hospital?'
'She isn't in that condition,' said the Vice-Principal and paused. He too had had a hard day. 'What I said was that she was dying. The fact of the matter is that she's dead.'
'Oh, my God,' said the Principal and swigged neat gin. It was better than nothing. 'You mean she died of an overdose?'
