of his. That’s what I want.’
‘How you going to do that?’ Bert asked. He’d never seen Martha so furious.
‘Him and that Rottecombe bitch get up to some strange things, I can tell you,’ she said darkly.
‘What sort of things?’
‘Sex,’ said Mrs Meadows. ‘Unnatural sex. Like him being tied up and…Well, Bert, I don’t like to say. But what I do say is I’ve seen the things they use. Whips and hoods and handcuffs. He keeps them locked away along of the magazines. Pornography and pictures of little boys and worse. Horrible.’
‘Little boys? He could go to prison for that.’
‘Best place for him.’
‘But how come you’ve seen them if they’re locked away?’
‘Cos he was so drunk one morning he was dead to the world in the old General’s dressing room and the cupboard was open and the key still in the lock. And I know where he keeps his keys, like the spare ones. He don’t know I do but I found them. On a beam over the old tractor in the barn he don’t ever use and can’t cos it’s broken. Shoves them up there where no one would think of looking. I seen him from the kitchen window. Keys of the back and front doors, key of his study and his Range Rover and the key of that cupboard with all that filth in it. Right, now here’s what I want you to do. That is if you’re prepared to, like.’
‘I’d do anything for you, Aunt Martha. You knows that.’
By the time he left Bert knew exactly what he had to do.
‘And don’t you come in your car,’ Martha told him. ‘I don’t want you getting into trouble. You hire one or something. I’ll give you the money.’
Bert shook his head.
‘Don’t need to. I’ve got enough and I know where I can get something to use, never you worry,’ he said and drove off happily, filled with admiration for his auntie. She was a sly one, Auntie Martha was. Thursday, she’d said.
‘Unless I phones you otherwise. And I’ll use a public phone. I’ve heard they can trace calls from homes and suchlike, the police can. Can’t be too careful. I’ll say…’ She looked at the calendar with the kitten on the wall. ‘I’ll say Thursday 7th or 14th or whatever Thursday you’re to do it. And that’s all.’
‘Why Thursday?’ Bert asked.
‘Cos that’s when they play bridge at the Country Club till after midnight and he gets so drunk she can do what she likes with him and she don’t go home till 4 or 5 in the morning. You’ll have time enough to do what I told you.’
Bert drove past the Manor House, checked the lane behind it and then drove north with the map Martha Meadows had given him. He paused for a moment outside the Rottecombes’ house, Leyline Lodge, and decided to come down again and make sure he knew exactly where to go. He’d borrow a friend’s car for that trip too. He’d learnt a lot from Martha and he didn’t want to get her into trouble.
Chapter 8
Eva was not having a wonderful time. What she was going through was keeping her wide awake with worry half the night. After the effusive greetings at the airport from Uncle Wally and Auntie Joan and their delight at seeing the quads again, they had driven out to the private jet bearing the logo of Immelmann Enterprises and had climbed aboard. The jet had been cleared for take-off and presently they were flying west towards Wilma. Below them the landscape was dotted with lakes and rivers and after a while they were over woods and hills, with signs of habitation few and far between. The quads peered out of the
