heâll take the heat off you. And turn it on Sweet, where it belongs.â He laughed. âI must say, Jacqui, I donât care for your boy-friendâs methods.â
Jacqui laughed too, a weak giggle of relief. âYes, he can be a bastard. You think itâll be all right?â
âJust as soon as I can get to see him. I mean, I donât know about the emotional thingâthatâs between the two of youâbut Iâm sure heâll stop the rough stuff.â
There was a pause. Jacqui breathed deeply. âOh, it really hurts. My throat, from all that crying.â
âYes, of course it does. Youâre exhausted. Tell you what, Iâll get you pleasantly drunk, tuck you up in bed, youâll sleep the sleep of the dead. And in the morning nothingâll seem so bad.â
âBut my flat . . .â
âIâll help you tidy it up, when weâve got this sorted out.
âOh, Charles, you are great. I donât know what Iâd do without you, honest.â
âSâall right.â He took her hand and gripped it, embarrassed, like a father with his grown-up daughter. Then suddenly, brisk. âRight, Iâm hungry. Have you had anything to eat?â
âNo, I . . . Iâve felt sick. Iââ
âHavenât got anything here, butââ
âI couldnât go out.â
âDonât you worry. It was for just such occasions that fish and chips were invented.â
âOh no. Iâd be sick.â
âDonât you believe it. Nice bit of rock salmon, bag of chips, lots of vinegar, youâll feel on top of the world.â
âUgh.â
Itâs strange how fish and chip newspapers, out of date and greasy, are always much more interesting than current ones. Itâs like other peopleâs papers in crowded tubes. You canât wait to buy a copy and read some intriguing article you glimpse over a strap-hanging shoulder. Itâs always disappointing.
In the fish and chip shop Charles noticed that his order was wrapped in a copy of the Sun . On the front page was the tantalizing headline, âVirginity Auctionâsee page 11â. The fascination of page 11 grew as he walked home. Who was auctioning whose virginity to whom? And where?
This thought preoccupied him as he entered his room. Jacqui was lying on the bed, fast asleep. Curled up in a ball on the candlewick, she looked about three years old.
He made no attempt to wake her. In her state sleep was more important than food. The Virginity Auctionâhe settled down in front of the fire to find out all about it. He slipped a hot crumbling piece of fish into his mouth, placed the warm bag of chips on his knees and turned to page 11.
Bugger. Heâd only got pages 1 to 8, and the corresponding ones at the back. Heâd never know where virginities were knocked down, or how one bidded. A pleasant thought of nubile young girls being displayed at Sothebyâs crossed his mind.
There wasnât much else in the paper. It was the last Wednesdayâsâall bloody petrol crisis. The titty girl on page 3âs midriff was stained and transparent with grease from the fish and chips. It looked rather obscene, particularly as the word âComeâ showed through backwards from the other side of the page.
Charles turned over and stopped dead. There was a photograph on the page that was ominously familiar. He had last seen it on a dresser, surrounded by brass souvenirs.
Fiercely calm, he read the accompanying article.
M4 MURDER VICTIM IDENTIFIED
The man whose body was found early on Monday morning by the M4 exit road at Theale, Berks, has been identified as 44-year-old William Sweet, a photographer from Paddington, London. Sweet was found shot through the head at the roadside beside his grey Ford Escort, which appeared to have run out of petrol.
Interviewed at his Paddington studios, Sweetâs wife, Audrey, could suggest no
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