'Sit down, dear,' she commanded, sinking into a rose-printed armchair and waving me into its pair.

She said, 'I've thought all night about whether I should tell you these things. Well, half the night. Several hours. William always trusted me not to repeat what he told me, and I never have. But now... I don't really know if he would say I should be silent for ever, but things are different now. Someone blew up his beloved racecourse, and you saved the race meeting yesterday and I think... I really do think that, like you said, you can't finish the job for him unless you know what you're up against, so, well, I don't think he'd mind.' She drank some gin. 'I'll tell you about Forsyth first, and then we'll see.'

'All right,' I said.

She sighed deeply and began, gathering ease and momentum gradually as she went along.

'Forsyth,' she said, 'set out to defraud an insurance company, and the family had to come up with the whole payoff or visit him behind bars for G.o.d knows how many years.'

'I thought,' I said slowly, 'it might be something like that.'

'William said...' She paused, still a little inhibited; uncertain, despite her decision. 'It seems odd to be telling you these things.'

I nodded.

'I wouldn't say a word if he were alive, but I don't care so much for his family. I often told him he ought to let them suffer properly for their criminal actions, but he wouldn't hear of it. Keeping the Stratton name clean... a sort of obsession.'

'Yes.'

'Well,' she took a deep breath, 'about a year ago, Forsyth borrowed a fortune from the bank, guaranteed by Ivan his father on the security of the garden centre, and he started buying and selling radio-controlled lawn mowers. Ivan's no great businessman, but at least he listens to his manager and goes to Conrad or William... used to go, poor lamb... for advice, and has proper audits... but that know-it-all Forsyth, he went his own way and wouldn't listen to anybody and he bought a huge warehouse on a mortgage and thousands of lawn mowers that were supposed to cut the gra.s.s while you sat and watched, but they were already going out-of-date when he signed a contract for them, and also they kept breaking down. The people who sold them to him must have been laughing themselves sick, William said. William said Forsyth talked about "cornering the market", which no one can ever do, William said, in anything. It's a short cut to bankruptcy. So there is Forsyth with this vast stock he has contracted to buy but can't sell, paying a huge mortgage he can't afford, with the bank bouncing his cheques and Ivan facing having to cover this enormous bank loan... and you can guess what happened.' She paid attention to her drink.

'A little fire?' I suggested, swirling the ice round in my own gla.s.s.

'Little! Half an acre of it. Warehouse, mowers, radio controls, all cinders. William said everyone took it for granted it was arson. The insurance company sent investigators. The police were all over the place. Forsyth went to pieces and confessed to William in private.' Half an acre of it. Warehouse, mowers, radio controls, all cinders. William said everyone took it for granted it was arson. The insurance company sent investigators. The police were all over the place. Forsyth went to pieces and confessed to William in private.'

She paused, sighing.

'So, what happened?' I asked.

'Nothing.'

'Nothing?'

'No. It's not a crime to set fire to your own property. William paid it all off. He didn't claim the insurance. He paid off the warehouse mortgage with penalties and sold the land it had stood on. Paid off all the contracts for the rotten mowers, to avoid lawsuits. Repaid the money the bank had lent, plus all the interest, to save Ivan losing the garden centre to the guarantee. It all cost an enormous enormous amount. William told all the family that they would each inherit a good deal less from him because of Forsyth's business venture and criminal folly. None of them would speak to Forsyth after that. He whined to William about it and William told him it was Coventry or jail, and to be grateful. Forsyth said Keith had told him to burn the warehouse. Keith said Forsyth was lying. But William told me it was probably true. He said Keith always said you could get rid of things by burning them.' amount. William told all the family that they would each inherit a good deal less from him because of Forsyth's business venture and criminal folly. None of them would speak to Forsyth after that. He whined to William about it and William told him it was Coventry or jail, and to be grateful. Forsyth said Keith had told him to burn the warehouse. Keith said Forsyth was lying. But William told me it was probably true. He said Keith always said you could get rid of things by burning them.'

Like fences at open ditches, I thought. And grandstands, by blowing them up?

'There!' she said, as if surprised at herself for the ease of the telling, 'I've told you! I can't feel William standing at my shoulder telling me to shut up. In fact... it's the other way round. I think he approves approves, dear, wherever he is.'

I wasn't going to question that feeling. I said, 'At least Forsyth's was a straightforward fraud. No rapes or drugs involved.'

'Yes, dear, much much harder to cover those up.' harder to cover those up.'

Some nuance in her voice, a quiet amus.e.m.e.nt, made me ask, 'But not impossible?'

'You're encouraging me to be wicked!'

Once started, however, she'd been enjoying the saga.

'I won't tell them,' I said. 'I'll be like you, with William's secrets.'

I don't know if she believed me. I don't know that I meant what I said. It encouraged her, all the same, to go on.

'Well... there was Hannah...'

'What about her?' I prompted, when she paused.

'She grew up so bitter.'

'Yes, I know.'

'No self-esteem, you see, dear.'

'No.'

'Keith never let her forget she'd been abandoned by her mother. By Madeline, poor dear. Madeline used to cry and tell me she'd give anything for a miscarriage, but we were both young then and we didn't know how to get her an abortion... you had to know know someone in those days as you'd never get a family doctor to help you. No one would ever help a young married woman get rid of her first child. Keith got to hear she'd been someone in those days as you'd never get a family doctor to help you. No one would ever help a young married woman get rid of her first child. Keith got to hear she'd been asking asking about it and he flew into a terrible rage and knocked two of her teeth out.' She drank deeply of gin at the memory. 'William told me that Keith told Hannah her mother had wanted to abort her. Can you believe it? Keith had always been cruel, but saying that to your own daughter! He wanted Hannah to hate Madeline, and she did. William said he tried for Madeline's sake to love Hannah and bring her up properly, but Keith was there, poisoning her mind, and she was never a sweet little girl, William said, but always sullen and spiteful.' about it and he flew into a terrible rage and knocked two of her teeth out.' She drank deeply of gin at the memory. 'William told me that Keith told Hannah her mother had wanted to abort her. Can you believe it? Keith had always been cruel, but saying that to your own daughter! He wanted Hannah to hate Madeline, and she did. William said he tried for Madeline's sake to love Hannah and bring her up properly, but Keith was there, poisoning her mind, and she was never a sweet little girl, William said, but always sullen and spiteful.'

'Poor Hannah.'

'Anyway, she grew up very pretty in a sharp sort of way, but William said young men were put off when they got to know her and she felt more and more rejected and hated everybody, and then she fell for this gypsy and let him have s.e.x with her.' Perdita shrugged, sighing. 'William said he wasn't even a proper Romany, just a rough wanderer with a police record for thieving. William said he couldn't understand Hannah, but it was low self-esteem, dear. Low self-esteem.'

'Yes.'

'Well, she got pregnant, of course. And this gypsy, he knew a good thing when it was shoved under his nose. He turned up on Keith's doorstep demanding money, else he'd go round the village telling everyone how he'd got Keith's posh daughter in the family way, and Keith knocked him down and kicked him and burst one of his kidneys.'

h.e.l.l, I thought, I'd been lucky.

'Keith told William. Those three boys always loaded their troubles onto their father. William paid off the gypsy, and it cost ten times as much as the gypsy had been asking from Keith in the first place.'

'Dire,' I said.

'So Jack was born, and he didn't have much chance either of growing up decent. Hannah dotes on him. William, of course, paid and paid for his upbringing.'

'William told you all this?'

'Oh yes, dear. Not all at once, like I told you. In little bits. Sort of squeezed out of him, over the years. He would come to me very tired of them all, and unburden some of his thoughts, and we'd have a little gin and if he felt like it, well, you know you know, dear and he'd say he felt better, and go off home She sighed deeply for times past.

'Conrad,' she said surprisingly, 'years ago, he got addicted to heroin.'

'Can't believe it!'

Perdita nodded. 'When he was young. Kids nowadays, they know they face terrible dangers all the time from drugs. When Conrad was twenty, he thought it a great adventure, William said. He was at university. He was with another young man, both of them injecting themselves, and his friend had too much, and died. William said there was a terrible stink, but he got Conrad out and hushed it all up and sent him to a very private and expensive clinic for treatment. He got Conrad to write him a letter describing his drug experiences, what he felt and saw when he was high. William didn't show me what Conrad wrote, but he still had the letter. He said Conrad had been cured, and he was proud of him. Conrad didn't go back to university, though. William kept him at home on the estate.'

Ah, I thought, that that was Marjorie's hammer-lock. Even after so many years, Conrad wouldn't want his youthful indiscretion made public. was Marjorie's hammer-lock. Even after so many years, Conrad wouldn't want his youthful indiscretion made public.

Perdita finished her gin and poured some more. 'Freshen your gla.s.s?' she asked me.

'No, I'm fine. Do go on, I'm riveted.'

She laughed, talking easily now. 'When Keith was about that age, when he was young and handsome and before all these really bad things, he spanked the daughter of one of the farm workers. Pulled down her knickers and spanked her. She hadn't done anything wrong. He said he wanted to know what it felt like. William paid her father a fortune for those days to keep him from going to the police. It wasn't a case of rape, though.'

'Bad enough.'

'Keith learned his lesson, William said. After that he only beat and raped his wives. You couldn't get done for it, then.'

The fun went out of her face abruptly, and no doubt out of mine.

'Sorry, dear,' she said. 'I loved Madeline, but it was all forty years ago. And she did get out, and marry again and have you. William said Keith never forgave her for despising him.'

Perhaps because I couldn't help having it on my mind, I said, 'Keith said yesterday that he's going to kill me. Forty years on, he's trying to get even.'

She stared. 'Did he mean it?'

'He meant it when he said it.'

'But dear, you have to take him seriously. He's a violent man. What are you going to do about it?'

I saw that she was basically more interested than anxious, but then it wasn't her life or death problem.

'It's the sight of me that enrages him,' I said. 'I could simply go away. Go home. Trust to luck he wouldn't follow me.'

'I must say, dear, you take it very calmly.'

I'd spent my own semi-wakeful night thinking about it, but I answered her casually. 'It's probably because it seems so unreal. I mean, it's not exactly routine to be discussing the possibility of one's own murder.'

'I do see that,' she agreed. 'So... are you going?'

I couldn't answer her, because I still didn't know. I had the five children to consider, and for their sakes I thought I should avoid any further confrontations as much as possible. The manic quality of Keith's hatred for me had been all too evident in the ferocity of his kicks and now he also had the justification for an attack in his eyes because of my involvement in the uncovering of Harold Quest and the delivery of Quest's confession to Marjorie. I had thrown him at her feet: he would kill me for it. I did deep down believe he would try and, although I didn't want to, I feared him.

I could probably ensure the boys a live father by leaving the arena.

I could... run away.

It was unrealistic, as I'd told Toby, to expect to be steadfast every day of the week. It would be prudent prudent to go. to go.

The trouble was that though I might long to, the part of me that ultimately decided things couldn't couldn't go. go.

'I wish,' I said fervently, 'that I were able to do as the Strattons do, and blackmail blackmail Keith into leaving me alone.' Keith into leaving me alone.'

'What a thought, dear!'

'No chance, though.'

She put her head on one side, looking at my face and thinking on my behalf.

'I don't know if it's of much help, dear,' she said slowly, 'but Conrad might have something like that.'

'What sort of thing? What do you mean?'

'I never knew exactly what it was,' she said, 'but William did have a way of keeping Keith in order during the past few years. Only, for once he didn't tell me everything. I'd have said he was too ashamed ashamed of Keith, that time. He sort of winced away from his name, even. Then one day he said there were things he didn't want people to know, not even after he died, and he thought he would have to give the knowledge to Conrad, his of Keith, that time. He sort of winced away from his name, even. Then one day he said there were things he didn't want people to know, not even after he died, and he thought he would have to give the knowledge to Conrad, his heir heir, you see, dear, so that Conrad could use it if he had to. I'd never seen him so troubled as he was that day. I asked him about it the next time he came to see me, but he still didn't want to talk about it much. He just said he would give a sealed packet to Conrad with very strict instructions about when or if ever it should be opened, and he said he had always done the best he could for his family. The very best.'

She stopped, overcome. 'He was such a dear dear, you know.'

'Yes.'

The secrets were out. Perdita wept a few tears of fondness and felt clearly at peace. I stood up, kissed her cheek, and went downstairs to collect my newly-shorn children.

They looked great. Penelope's pleased professionalism liquified my senses. The boys laughed with her, loving her easily, and I, who ached for her body, paid for their haircuts (despite her protestations) and thanked her, and took my sons painfully away.

'Can we go back there, Dad?' they asked.

'I promised, 'Yes, one day,' and wondered 'Why not?' and 'Perhaps she would love me' and thought that the children liked her anyway, and fell into a hopeless jumble of self-justification, and was ready to dump my unsatisfactory marriage, which so recently, on the train, I had prayed to preserve.

The Gardners picked us up and took the clean clothes, the apples, the new trainers and the haircuts back to the racecourse and ordinary life.

In the evening we telephoned Amanda. At eight o'clock, she sounded languorously sleepy.

'I spent a long night unhappily, thinking both of my own obligations and desires, but also of Keith and whatever he might be plotting. I searched for ways to defeat him. I thought of fear and the need for courage, and felt unready and inadequate.

CHAPTER 14.

By Wednesday morning Henry had gone home in his last truck, leaving everything so far accomplished ready for next time, and promising future improvements.

On Tuesday the flags over the big top had been furled into storage bags by ropes and pulleys and winches. The lights and the fans were switched off. The caterers' side-tents were laced tight, giving no casual access. The fire extinguishers remained in place, scarlet sentinels, unused. Henry's man and some of the groundsmen had scrubbed the tramp of a few thousand feet off the flooring with brooms and hoses.

On Wednesday morning Roger and I walked down the centre aisle, desultorily checking the big empty rooms to each side. No chairs, no tables; a few plastic crates. The only light was daylight from outside, filtering through canvas and the peach roofing, and changing from dull to bright and to dull again as slow clouds crossed the sun.

'Quiet, isn't it?' Roger said.

A flap of canvas somewhere rattled in the wind but all else was silent.

'Hard to believe,' I agreed, 'how it all looked on Monday.'

'We had the final gate figures yesterday afternoon,' Roger said. 'The attendance was eleven per cent up on last year. Eleven per cent! And in spite of the stands being wrecked.'

'Because of them,' I said. 'Because of the television coverage.'

'Yes, I suppose so.' He was cheerful. 'Did you see the papers yesterday? 'Plucky Stratton Park.' Goo like that. Couldn't be better!'

'The Strattons,' I said, 'said they were holding a meeting this morning. Do you know where?'

'Not here, as far as I've heard. There's only the office,' he said doubtfully, 'and it's really too small. Surely they'll tell you where, if they're meeting.'