I hadn’t even thought of this plan before speaking, yet was glad it cropped up, because big advantages often came to me by that method, if method it was. It was only when I thought hard that things went wrong.
Bill didn’t say anything for the next few miles, as if too busy following my directional instructions. At last he opened his mouth. “Is that what you think?”
“We’ll threaten to burn all that’s in the car if he doesn’t send two packets of thousand unforged fifty-pound notes within twenty-four hours.”
“Your plan sounds feasible, Michael, but it also seems fraught with numerous improbabilities. Why not just keep back one of the packets, and say the rest was all that came out of the Range Rovers? Let those fake cops take the blame. We could sell our packet in Manchester, and maybe get a bit more than the hundred thousand.”
I was happy at seeing the chimney of Upper Mayhem. “No, it would be safer and more realistic to be open and above board in our demands with Moggerhanger. He would think better of it than mere thievery, which he’d never forgive, and might kill us for. I know him by now, so it’s a matter of choosing between your hairbrained flight of fancy, which will cost you a long stretch in prison, if not your life. My perfect plan will net us fifty grand each, and your half share will tide you over for a carefree year or two in Runna-Runna. You wouldn’t have to spend all your time with a telescope on a hilltop looking for blokes in a speedboat coming to kill you then, either.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I opened two tins of Bogie as Dismal’s bonus for his help on the trip. Bill robbed the kitchen cupboard of Bakewell tarts, Swiss puddings and a tin of fancy biscuits. “As soon as you’ve eaten your little snack,” I said, putting the kettle on at his request, “you can stack those bundles of heroin by the levers in the signal box. Clegg’s up there, so he’ll help you. And stop thinking of Runna-Runna. If you take that option, it’ll be your funeral.”
“That’s not very encouraging, as a remark. Anyway, why do you suppose that subject is still on my mind?”
“Because you’re eating enough to get all that way without the necessity of inflight refuelling. But if you are still hankering for Runna-Runna, forget it. You might make it to the Hook, but you’d be taken prisoner at the first stop in Germany. Imagine being sent to a POW camp, when you’d avoided it all through the War. You’d never live it down. Nothing to eat except stuff from Red Cross parcels. You’d be so hungry you’d even swallow the plumb stone in the jam with the escape compass inside. So pass me one of those custard creams before they’re all gone. I didn’t even know we’d got any.”
Clegg came in at the kettle whistling. “Have you seen her?”
“Seen who? My mother and her girlfriend seem to have left.”
“They did — for London, an hour ago.”
I pitied Mabel and Blaskin, until wondering what he might get up to with Doris. “What are you on about, then?”
“Your current girlfriend arrived just after lunch, and woke me from my nap. She’s a lovely looking woman. Said you’d given her the address. She was so distressed though that I put her in your bed upstairs. Men are so bloody to their ladies these days. She told me her name was Sophie.”
I staggered, but only inwardly, and walked quietly upstairs, in case I disturbed her sleep, only wanting to gaze on her bewitching features. But she heard the door click. “Is that you, Michael?”
I knelt by the bed for a kiss. She turned towards me, to show a swollen eye, and a bruise on her cheek. “This is the most wonderful surprise, sweet sister, only tell me who knocked you about, so that I can slaughter him.”
“My husband and I quarrelled. He got angry when I said I didn’t care about him having a mistress. He went absolutely bananas, and threw me out of the house. So I came here, hoping you’ll let me stay until tomorrow, by which time he’ll have calmed down. Either that, or he’ll be away with his girlfriend. If he takes her to the house in Italy I’ll be all right.”
“I’ll look after you for as long as you like, dear sister.” Our kisses were so passionate we could have made love there and then, but I resisted, saying tea was on the go downstairs, and if she wanted me to bring a cup for her I would.
Was her arrival good luck, or Fate? Too happy to care, I took her tea and biscuits, then went back to the kitchen. “Cleggie,” I said, the three of us munching away. “I have a problem.”
He straightened his glasses. “You always have.”
“But this one’s special.” I told him of all we’d done that day, then reeled out our options with regard to what was in the Roller.
It took some time for him to pull his thoughts together under one roof. “I wouldn’t do either of those things. Get rid of the stuff as soon as you can. Take it all to Lord Moggerhanger, where it belongs. Honesty is the best policy, but since I realise you’re hell-bent on resolving matters in your own way, because you never were one to take good advice, I’ll say no more. If you try to blackmail your employer I wouldn’t like to think how it will turn out.”
I looked at Bill, who said: “I give in. No Runna-Runna. We’ll con Moggerhanger for fifty thousand each, though I’ll regret such a soft option till my dying day.”
“Things never did come cheap,” I said, “so I’ll give Moggerhanger a bell tomorrow, to explain the situation. If there’s no other objection to the proposal I’ll consider it settled, and after such a heavy day go upstairs to rest. You keep things going, Cleggie. Provide all the biscuits Bill can eat, and dish out unlimited Bogie for Dismal.”
Who could resist? I’d be the first one as ever did. After the first few kisses she said: “Strip off, Michael, darling. My breasts are aching for you. I need hardly mention about the other place.”
For those who have been gently brought up, if such there are anymore, let me say that going to bed with your half sister is the ultimate aphrodisiac. It was like being in love at thirteen but, not having anybody to make love to, and when you were about to burst, having a dark-haired princess who knew more about you than you know yourself come naked into your arms. Such joyful music I wanted to go on forever, freedom, guilt and the absolute pleasure of doing what we wanted with each other in the hope of finding a part of ourselves never come across before. Neither of us, we said, had experienced such a meltdown into mutually consuming love.
After a couple of hours I felt an irritating itch for a tasteful after-sex cigarette, but she wanted to stay under the sheet. “Don’t break the dream.”
I eased her away. “I won’t. But there’s the rest of our lives to get all we want.”
“I’ve never been so happy.”
“Nor me,” I had to say, but it was time to get up.
After another delaying kiss I pulled on my shirt, and told her I was going downstairs to arrange our wedding dinner. A bad mood was filtering in, proving me to be a member of the middle class at last, being afflicted with post coitum triste, or whatever it was. “There’s a bottle of champagne in the fridge, so we can start the meal with a toast.”